Act I: Time and Place

"Time drives everything before it, and can lead with good as well as evil, and evil as well as good."
- Niccolò Machiavelli

Chapter I: Nature Versus Nurture

The Crown Princess

Royal Vintage

The arrow flies through the air and right past the boss. Another miss. She grunts as she lowers the bow. "Relax, Your Highness. Breathe in, and focus more on maintaining your form than worrying about the target. That can come later."

She's irritated, but doesn't know if it's thanks to her continuous failure or his advice. She's aware that it is good advice, well-intentioned too; the man is a seasoned huntsman as well as an esteemed archery champion before the war. Still, that doesn't make hearing the very simple directions of 'Breathe' and 'Focus' feel any less demeaning. Regardless, none of that is his fault. Swallowing the frustration, she nods and smiles at him. "Of course. Thank you, Edgar."

He replies with a smile of his own that stretches his face and makes his already visible wrinkles all the more apparent. "My pleasure, Your Highness."

"You can just call me Sally."

"You honour me with such proposed familiarity."

His dancing around her request does not go unnoticed. "Very clever. But seriously, don't worry about it. I know my father has always been a stickler about titles and such, but I don't care. Really."

"A fine queen you'll make, Your Highness. Though, and forgive me for this, I must correct you."

"On what?"

"His Majesty was not always, as you say, 'A stickler about titles'... 'and such'."

"Is that so?"

"Yes. I learned this from the few times I met him before the war; all were thanks to my triumph in contests of marksmanship, of course."

"And as the victor, he personally awarded the prizes to you, right?"

"Correct. The first time, he interrupted me on account of my use of the proper address. He asked that I simply call him 'Max'. It was quite surreal, but then again so was the whole thing."

"And the second?"

"I remembered to not make the same mistake. As for the final time, he gifted me a fine vintage, dated back to the reign of Silvanus if I recall right. He said he would've liked to share a glass with me, but had to attend to some urgent business at the palace. I told him that I would keep it sealed until next we met. He smiled, and told me he'd hold me to that."

"Was it any good? The wine."

"I'm afraid we'll never know."

"Why? What happened?"

"The war. That same week, the declaration was broadcast over the radio, and only months later the Overlanders came marching right up to this city; their shelling followed soon after. I'll never forget that sound; that infernal howling and whistling. One of the shells landed right in my house and went off. Even now, I'm still not sure how I managed to survive, and with only scars on my back as well."

"You lost everything?"

"Not everything. I had, and still have, my life, my health, and my body unmarred, for the most part."

His words slide from his lips with such casualness, but their meaning still communicates the reality: He lost much. "I'm sorry, Edgar."

"As am I. To see such fine wine go to waste…"

The pair share a chuckle for a short moment. It's strange how some of the worst memories can bring about something as good as genuine laughter. "What did my father say when you told him about that? He was quite happy when he learnt you'd returned here, you know?"

"Yes, I'm aware. His Majesty was quite ecstatic when we met for the first time in, by the Source, it must've been almost eighteen years. He offered me another vintage with surprising switfness, this time from Sebastian's reign, and I thanked him for it. Then, I apologised for what had happened to the previous bottle, but he dismissed that out of hand, said that he should be the one apologising for offering something less aged than before."

"Did he make you use the proper address?"

"No, he did not. But I had, and have, the privilege of knowing him personally back when he was younger, even if only minimally. I am aware that those not so blest have a different experience when speaking with him."

"Yeah. What do you think happened? What changed?"

"Your Highness, what hasn't changed? This city itself, for example, is practically an entirely novel creation. Very little of the old remains, and what does is either meshed and merged with the new or sectioned away into some select areas. The palace appears to be a strange mixture of both, in a way; at least I believe so. I cannot claim great acquaintance with it, after all."

"Pretty much the same for me as well. I only have vague memories as a child, and most of the time something insane was happening. Hard to focus on décor when you're listening to the daily salvo."

"Indeed, it is. But enough of that, we should get back to it. Remember, deep breaths and consistency."

He gives her a tender shake on the shoulder and her eyes are now back on the boss. Circle of black, then circle of blue, then circle of red, and finally, in the centre, the golden core. She resets her posture, grabs an arrow, knocks it, takes a deep breath, draws, and then looses it. The arrow slides through the air, only to once again zoom right past the boss. Another miss; this time to the left rather than the right. "Grh!"

For forty minutes she's been at this, and not one arrow has even made it onto the boss, let alone the bullseye. It's not the failure itself that's frustrating her, well at least it's not the core of her frustration. Rather, it's the lack of understanding. She's fired off plenty of guns before, had to aim at small, distant, and moving targets, use only her eyes, and make the shot under some of the most stressful conditions she can imagine. And she made them, more often than not. But this? The simple bow and arrow, with a still target, in a peaceful garden? This eludes her. That doesn't make any sense, and she hates that. He still hasn't said anything. "I think that's enough for one day. Thank you, Edgar."

"Of course, Your Highness. Tell His Majesty that I send my regards."

"Will do. And sorry for wasting your time."

"No such thing, Your Highness. We'll pick this up another day, when you've put some distance between now and then."

She gives a nod to that as he departs, but is unsure of whether she means it or not. An expected courtesy has manifested without her knowing if it's true or not. A few years ago, that almost never happened; now it seems to happen multiple times every day. She's not sure why or when it started, but it's here. in another section of the gardens, she happens across a servant and gestures for him to come over. "Could you bring this to my quarters?"

The servant gives obeisance before taking hold of the bow and quiver. "At once, Your Royal Highness."

With him heading off, she's now alone. She seats herself on a white stone bench and the rock is cool to the touch; a welcome reprieve from the humid warmth of her surroundings. Autumn may be in full swing, but the gardens remain frozen in eternal summer and spring. Sunlight enters in from above, passing through the glass roof and walls which traps the heat. Bird songs sound off in the distance as she lays across the bench's length, out of sight but not out of mind.

Right now, nothing is happening in her presence. Nothing bad, but nothing good either. From here, she feels as if the world has stopped, time has frozen, and an eternity has settled itself into an instant. The first thought to come into her head is that this is what peace feels like. It feels like that's the right answer, despite how weird it seems and sounds. That might be more on her than on peace itself though. "Not like I've known much of it anyways."

There's something about right now that she's struggling to put her finger on. It itches the back of her head. In truth, it's been itching for a while now; months, maybe even a year or two. Or three. And she's been trying to scratch it, but to no avail. Until now. The answer is simple, and as such proves rather disappointing once arrived at. All the same, it's the truth. She doesn't like this feeling.

Even stranger, she thinks she already misses practicing with the bow. Despite the persistent failure, it was engaging. She was in motion, doing something, anything, moving along. Goal, obstacle, action. Right now, she has none of that. "Guh…."

She sits up and gets off the bench. Spinning wheels here will get her nowhere, but time with Nicole will make everything alright. Yes, that's it. She exits the gardens and makes her way through the palace. Winding hallways lead to rooms of stone and steel, with lightbulbs and candles illuminating whatever parts of the castle that the Sun can't. This is her home once again, though it hardly has the feel of one in her eyes. Days and nights bleed and blend together, and there's a fluid, mist-like sense to it all. Even the walls look like they'll give in with but a push, eager to vanish come the waking of the morning.

They never do.

An array of servants, workers, courtiers, guards, and even the occasional knight or rarer noble passes by her. Each and every one of them recites that same polite greeting, which forces her to recite her own right back. The monotony of it all makes even this simple walk a drain of sorts. That smile is still on her face though. Because that's what's expected of her. It's been that way ever since she was a girl.

At last, she arrives at the royal laboratories and punches the 12 digit password into the keypad. '1-4-1-3-0-7-0-2-3-1-7-3'. The whole sequence is etched into memory and flows without thought; the inspiration to learn it comes from the many times she's spent waiting at this door for a scientist to pass by and let her in. Why Charles made that the password is lost on her, though she's certain he has some reason. Once inside the hermetically sealed chamber, the door behind shuts before jet nozzles spray her down then dry her up in swift succession.

Once the decontamination process is complete, the door in front of her opens up to the labs. A quick look around reveals that Charles is nowhere to be seen. Her search for the old hedgehog in the maze of machines and monitors proves about as fruitful. While looking, she spots another Mobian and walks up to him for help. He turns at the sound of the approach and instantly realises that it's her. "Oh, Your Royal Highness! So good to see you. The labs are made brighter by your presence."

The smile is still there. The urge to raise a finger and shut him up in a desperate attempt to avoid hearing that same greeting yet again is also there, but she keeps it caged away. Being annoyed is no excuse to act rude. "Thank you."

"I guess you're looking for the Lord Empirical, right?"

"That I am."

"He's not here. But don't worry, your AI still is. He told me you'd come looking for it soon enough. It's right over there." he says while pointing to Charles' office. "He also said you'd find it no problem, but I feel like it can't hurt to say where."

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it, Your Highness."

A smile is still on her face as she leaves him, but it's one borne out of training more than anything else. The doors of Charles' office open with a simple push. Now at his desk, a holographic lynx materialises, or rather appears, from a device small enough to fit in her hand. Her friend smiles at her, and she returns it while grabbing the device. "Hey, Nikki."

"Hello, Sally. You're back early. How did practice with Edgar go?"

She looks away at nothing in particular. "Not well."

"What's wrong? Did something happen?"

"More like nothing happened. I didn't land a single shot. Not one."

"What was the issue?"

"I-..." she starts to say, but comes to an abrupt stop upon realising that the answer to that question is beyond her. "…don't know."

"Hm, well I'm sure you'll get the hang of it with time."

"Yeah…"

"Or maybe it's better for you to cut your losses. Perhaps archery just isn't for you."

"Who knows? By the way, where's Charles?"

"You didn't hear? There's a meeting going on right now."

This isn't good. She came to talk with Nicole to help her feel better, not worse. "Oh..."

"Sorry to be the bearer of bad news."

The prospect of sitting down to attend yet another meeting of the Privy Council is not one she looks forward to. It's expected of her, but that doesn't make it any more attractive. An idea presents itself to her though. "Only bad news if I end up in it."

Nicole tilts her head, a mannerism she picked up after forming a body; it appears to have followed the lynx back into hologram form, and that little detail brings some warmth to her heart. "What do you mean?"

"What if I just didn't go? What if instead I mount one of the steeds and ride off into the sunset with you in tow, and leave all this business concerning king and kingdom's fate to them?"

Nicole smiles and looks at herself for a second, but shakes her head afterward. "You know it's important."

"C'mon, it'll be just like old times."

"Well we're not in those anymore. And I'm glad we aren't."

She sighs and plops down into Charles' chair, and its leather gives way under her weight; no doubt this seat has been depressed and worn down by Charles. Nicole is right about the meeting, she knows that; her being right doesn't make it any more desirable though. Her eyes look out at the lab and all its cold complexity from the warm simpleness of Charles' office. The former, with all its metal surfaces, electric wires, and sterile white lights, is a world apart from the latter, which consists of hearty oak planks, orange lamps, and photos stretching back almost half a century. She examines them, all filled with familiar faces, though some faces aren't so. She grabs the first one to catch her attention. In the frame, a young, two-tailed fox kneels before an old hedgehog as the latter touches both of the former's shoulders with the Sceptre of the Empiricist. She returns to that day; if only she could remain in it. "You were so happy…"

The ceremonial object pulses softly with electricity, and everyone besides her father looks so proud to see the boy come so far. And no one is prouder than her, other than Charles maybe. Tails is shaking, and she's sure it's as much due to the subtle shocks from the sceptre as from his anxiety. When all is said and done, he rises a proud vassal now.

And now he's gone.

Her boy has disappeared, her friend is stuck as a hologram, and everyone else is very different now, including herself. Somewhere, sometime, she slowly stopped being Sally and started being the Princess. She doesn't know when or why that was. "How did we get here, Nicole? I mean we saved the world, and made it through all together as one, didn't we?"

"We did."

"So then how'd we get to this point? What went wrong?"

"It doesn't matter. Despite what it's cost me, what it's cost us, I'm happier with where things are now than where they were then."

"So you don't know?"

"No, I don't."

She sets down the photo and picks up another. This one shows her father along with her mother and brother. She doesn't have a single memory of either of them. He's smiling in a way she's never seen him smile. It's like all the years have been washed off him here. She wishes she could see him like that again, even if only once. The flow of time appears to have worn him down, as has everything he's been through. "They say ignorance is bliss, you know?"

"Too bad we're not in bliss then."

Sometimes, she imagines what would've happened had Elias not been sent off. Not Alicia as well, just Elias. To think about how different her life might've been. All the responsibility, all the expectations, all the eyeballs, and all the pressure on someone else's back. Never does she think about what she'd say to her brother if she could speak to him, just how happy she'd be for him to take her place. To think like this is wrong, obviously, but that doesn't make it any less fascinating.

"Now come on, put me back down and go. I'll be right here when you're done."

Looking back at Nicole, she thinks about what to say. They both know the answer, but that doesn't make it any easier to do. Placing the photo as well as the device back on the desk, she gives her friend one last smile while sitting up. "Don't move, Nikki."

"I'll try my hardest." is the last she hears from her friend as she walks out of Charles' office.

"-and as the war nears its fourth year, we might consider-"

Her entrance into the council chambers cuts short the conversation and gathers the attention of everyone present. A table full of faces stares at her, ranging from older than her to old, period. Eldest among them seems to be that of the king. Even though Charles is three years his senior, her father looks to be a decade older. "Ah, Sally, there you are. So good of you to finally join us, even if somewhat late..."

She returns her father's smile with one of her own, and it requires none of her training. Charles, Rotor, and Antoine give cheerful tilts of the head towards her which she reciprocates. "Apologies for my delay, father; I got lost in the beauty of the gardens. Surely you can appreciate that?"

"Who couldn't, little Bean?"

No matter what, hearing him call her that manages to brighten her mood up. Charles, who's situated on her father's right, stands up and offers his seat. "Your Highness."

"Thank you, but I'll sit at the end. Tardiness shouldn't be rewarded after all."

He gives a look to her father, who nods in approval. The old hedgehog then looks back at her and his white facial hair waves softly with each moment, no matter how slight. "You simply are too kind, my dear."

That gets a chuckle from her as she walks over to the far end of the table. Despite the gravity of the conversations held and decisions reached in this room, her every step bounces off the floor with a weightless enthusiasm. It's rather inaccurate to her true feelings, but that doesn't really matter. "Fake it till ya make it..."

Now she sits in an empty chair on the opposite end of the table, directly parallel to her father. There are several more chairs with no one in them. One of them is for Merlin, though he's a rare sight, even with the war over. There are a few meant for generals of the Grand Army, though such a thing has become far less crucial in recent years, not to mention the dearth in the officer corps which followed the savaging of the army's ranks during and after Robotnik's coup. One of the chairs was most likely occupied by the Warlord, but the realm hasn't had one in nearly seventeen years and likely wouldn't again; a reasonable decision considering the horrific actions of the last two holders of the office. She draws her sight back to her father, who sits across from her. "Ed says hi, by the way."

"Taking archery lessons now, are you?"

"Thinking about it. But enough about me, what matter were we on?"

The rest of them scan the others sitting at the table, with most of them in the end settling on her father for an answer. "Well, we were discussing the situation in Mercia. But seeing as how you're here now, I see no reason why we can't move on to something more pertinent to you." he says before looking to Antoine. "Care to elaborate on the new development regarding the air fleet, D'Coolette?"

The coyote in dress whites nods and leans forward in his seat. "Oui, Your Majesté. A new airship, Endurance, has completed construction, and proven herself airworthy. As our second battlecarrier, she's a state-of-the-art vessel. I believe she's well suited for projecting royal autorité into the western half of the continent, something that you've previously stated a desire for."

"That I have. For far too long we've let them run wild, and look what's come of it. Vicious anarchy, lawless rogues, escaped fugitives, wandering robots,-"

"There's also the issue of Beauregard and his 'Western Barony', Your Majesty." Harvey says as he leans toward her father. The avian's voice comes as a small shock to her; the owl doesn't talk much during these meetings.

"Of course, how could I forget? An entire separatist state! We-" he says before a coughing fit overtakes him. In moments, the stern sovereign is reduced to an elder hacking his lungs out onto a handkerchief offered by Charles.

Where before her father only looked a decade older than the hedgehog, now he sounds and acts as such. This fact isn't news to her, but it's not getting any easier to confront each time. Time is a cruel mistress they say, but it seems her father has gotten the worst of it. It's ghoulish to think like this, but her thoughts can't help but return to her conversation with Edgar. All the talk about wines from a century or more ago seems rather relevant right now. Her father has aged, without a doubt, but with far less grace it seems.

The room isn't quiet, his coughs won't permit that, but they are all silent. After far too long for everyone's liking, he regains his composure and settles his breaths to being only somewhat raspy. "Thank you, Charles."

"It's nothing, Your Majesty."

Her father nods as he clears the last bits in his throat that still bother. After a few lighter coughs, he sits back up and inhales deep before continuing. "We simply must regain control of the situation. The sight of a true warship should do the trick in getting those rustics to fall in line, and deliver at last some peace and prosperity to the people out west."

"A fine idea, father. Though forgive me for asking, what part of this exactly concerns me?"

"I was just getting to that part. Tell me, Commodore, is the Endurance capable of a transoceanic voyage?"

"Oui, of course, same as any other airship. Though there is the problème of Battle Bird raids-"

"Which will be put to rest when Endurance and Sentinel complete a successful and unmolested crossing of the Great Ocean, as I intend to see done." he says while returning those tired blue eyes to her. "As for you, my dear, I believe that undertaking a royal visit to Sand Blast City, then Priscilla, will be for the best."

For the first time she sits forward in her seat. "A royal visit to Downunda?"

"Yes. It'll do you some good to get out of the capital and continent, I think, and the people will most certainly welcome you with open hearts and arms; you'll be building bridges between them and the crown in no time."

"But I can't-"

A single raise of his hand silences her; it's all that's required from him to do so. "Enough, Sally. I've already thought this over, and have made sure that any substantial issues you could possibly have are addressed."

One obvious question sits on the tip of her tongue, but she's hesitant to speak it. To poke the beast right here, right now, is a challenge that even she's unwilling to risk. It seems she's not the only one thinking about it as Charles leans forward and gives an eye gesture that says 'It's okay'. She leans back in her seat, understanding her situation.

It's strange. She can say no, and there's not much anyone could do to force her, and yet here she is agreeing to it anyways. Two sides of her are fighting, the Princess and the Freedom Fighter, and it seems the former is winning. She wonders if this is how it was always going to be, a mere inevitability considering who she is, or if this is something learned and adopted. "Suppose it doesn't matter…" she thinks before speaking. "How long will I be? Not factoring in the travel time."

"I leave such decisions in your hands. Whenever you feel satisfied with success under your belt, you may return. You have always been capable and dutiful, so I have no concerns over you doing anything else."

"And how many government officials will I be bringing with me?"

"Once more, I leave that to your judgement. It's no secret that a great deal of time has passed since a proper royal visit to anywhere, and much has changed since then. Technology, industry, travel, and people have all shifted a great deal; I imagine the tried and true methods may leave one wanting. Madame Ambassador Eira?"

"I'll provide a list of recommendations, ranging from individuals to destinations and actions." the cat says before turning to look at her. "But at the end of the day, Your Highness, they are but recommendations."

His unquestioning trust in her regarding this is helping to improve her opinion on the matter. While it may not be something she wants to do, she's being entrusted to handle it her own way. She nods at Eira and her father. "Oh, and as for Sonic, take him with you. The future king consort should be seen beside his future sovereign."

Maybe she's wrong; perhaps her father has aged more like wine than she thought. "Actually, now that I mention him, I recall that there was also a matter regarding Robotnik remnants out west that might be of interest for the lad. Isn't that right, Harvey?"

"Indeed it is, Your Majesty."

Harvey and her father look at her in unison. "If you'd let him know we wish to speak about it, that'd be much appreciated."

She nods. "Good. Now, Lord Fiscal Cayden, you've expressed a desire to go over a proposal regarding a new trade deal with Mousecovy, yes?"

"Yes, Your Majesty. As you may be aware..."

As the pig eagerly goes off on the mundane issue of trade and tariffs, she begins to zone out. Her thoughts drift back into Charles' office and to the picture of the boy on the desk. She wonders where he is, which in turn makes her wonder where Amy is. The list is too long to bother going down, and she resigns herself to wishing for the pink hedgehog's swift success in returning him home. "Wherever you are, find him…"