Chapter 1: Child of the Mists

After Catherine's death, the seas became rough and wild, and lives were thrown into disorder. Misty came to occupy a peculiar place in the society of the castle. She was neither princess nor servant, and none were quite sure how she should be treated. Some were surprised that she was allowed to stay at all, but King Ashton didn't expel her. So Misty remained, given into Anna's care to be raised alongside the prince, Ashton. This was the beginning of many troubles. Anna, a kind woman, loved both children, but she doted on the young prince. Try as she might, she couldn't hide her preference. Sometimes Misty wanted to be held, but Anna was too busy feeding Ash to notice her, and sometimes Misty's cries went ignored while Anna lulled Ash to sleep. This left Misty confused and angry. She had no concept of bloodlines or wealth; to her, she and Ash seemed no different. Why should he receive the better treatment? Bitter jealously was planted in her heart. In her youth, Misty could not contain the violent emotion, and she would often strike Ash when Anna had turned away. But she was also to young to consider the consequence, and when Anna heard Ash's cries, Misty would be punished with a stinging slap to the face. She would be forced into obedience, and there would be peace. For a time. But even as she rubbed her sore cheek, Misty would seethe with anger at Ash for exposing her deed, and her desire for revenge would flare. Soon the struggle would begin anew. It made miserable all whom it trapped: Misty, caught inside a circle of jealousy and anger; Ash, weary of the abuse; and Anna, frustrated by the problem which she could clearly see but felt powerless to end. The spiral was of their own making, yet no one would move to end it. As tide followed tide in and out an endless ring, so the vicious cycle turned as the years rolled after.

Misty grew, but time changed little. One day, however, stood apart in Misty's mind. It was her seventh birthday. Things had started off cheerfully enough. Anna had baked a chocolate cake, Misty's favorite, and for once, Misty was the center of attention. She could not have imagined a more perfect day. But after the festivities ended, Anna had taken her aside and told her an awful story. It was of an orphan and the queen who adopted her, and the tragedy that befell them. Worst of all, it was true. Misty was shocked. As Anna spoke, she felt the blood rush from her head and the floor fall from beneath her. Her body tingled. In a panic, she had fled the castle and run through the garden and down the sloping landscape, and had at last thrown herself onto a sandy dune, sobbing. This was her place, the place she always visited when she was sad or needed to think. But then, she had not been able to think at all. Her mind was numb with shock. The reeds had blown in a cold breeze that day. Ominous thunderclouds filled the horizon. Thunder rumbled far away and blended with the sound of the choppy waves breaking on the shore. It had taken many days for the truth to become real. But eventually shock gave way to grief, and grief to acceptance, and Misty began to better understand her life. She now knew the reason that she and Ash were treated so differently. He was a prince, and she an orphan with no family or history or riches. She couldn't blame him for her situation. Nor for his mother's death, though she now knew the secret. Fortune and circumstance had determined their fates, nothing more. But this knowledge did nothing to change Misty's feelings toward Ash. She now realized that he wasn't the cause of her adversity, but she had found new reasons to dislike him. Ash had grown into a haughty, proud child, and Misty hated the way he boasted and whined. He trusted all the flattery that his position gained him and would repeat it to anyone who would listen. Misty couldn't stand this arrogance. She had grown too old to hit Ash, but she found new weapons in words and sharp wit. He was always quick to take the bait, and they were forever arguing back and forth. Rare was the occasion when they were not at odds. They might tolerate each other as playmates if boredom became unbearable, but then with a fragile, awkward harmony. Misty considered Ash no friend of hers.

She didn't have any friends for that matter. Ash was the only other child she knew. Still, she did not consider herself lonely. Misty spent her days fantasizing about a better life, and these fantasies were more than enough company. Nothing that real life had to offer could compare. How could it? Limited reality could never rival these grand fantasies. In her dreams, Misty had everything she had ever desired: fine clothes and glittering jewelry, dazzling parties and delicious food; things at once familiar and foreign. Her modest room with its stone walls and sparse furnishings became a suite befitting a princess. She danced on the beach to the song of gulls, a lady at a fancy ball. The life that she could only watch others live was hers. Misty reveled in these false luxuries. But, wonderful as they were, they were only silly fancies, a child's amusement. There was a dream much dearer to her heart. More than anything else, Misty wished for a loving mother. A mother who was kind and never scolded her, who gave her the best of everything. A mother who was warm and beautiful, with a gentle voice. A mother who was always there whenever Misty needed her. And though she was merely a shadow, her love was a refuge in trying times, a shelter from the hardship that surrounded Misty. She found great joy in the illusion. She didn't think there could be anything wrong with such a beautiful dream.

But not everyone agreed, as she soon found out. One day, when Misty sat on her bed, lost in a daydream, her thoughts were interrupted by a heavy sigh.

"What are you thinking about?"

She turned to find Anna staring at her, a concerned look on her face.

"Nothing." She said.

"Nothing? Come now, you must be thinking about something."

Misty shook her head. She couldn't tell Anna such private things.

"It's a beautiful day. Why don't you go outside and play in the garden?"

"No, I don't want to."

"Well, what would you like to do?"

"Nothing. I'm fine."

"Misty, I must say I'm worried about you. How can you just sit there doing nothing? It's not natural for a girl your age to be so withdrawn. You should be outside playing."

Anna's persistence was quickly becoming annoying.

"But this is what I want to do."

"Nonsense! It's not healthy. You can't be happy like that. We must do something to bring you out."

"But-"

"-I know! Ash is about to begin schooling, why don't you accompany him? It will do you good to be with the other children, and you'll enjoy the work."

Misty's temper was ignited.

"I told you, I don't want to!"

"Don't show such disrespect to your elders!" Anna chastised. "You will do as I say! Now, I shall have to gain permission from King Ashton, but he usually leaves decisions concerning you children to me, so it shouldn't be a problem . . ."

Misty glared at Anna as she walked away, still talking to herself. Who was she to judge whether she was happy? But there was nothing she could do. Anna gained permission from the king, and that was that.

A cold sea churned up waves of green. Today was Misty's first day of school. She tied up her hair and wore her nicest dress of pale blue linen. But she didn't care about her appearance today. Misty felt nervous, even a bit sick. She did n't want to attend school. Anna was so excited for her, but Misty knew she wouldn't like it. She would have no time for daydreams, and worse, would spend every day with Ash. There could be nothing good about it. But she was powerless to fight Anna's authority. So begrudgingly, Misty walked down the cold stone hallway, tailing Anna and Ash at a distance.

"Misty!" Anna called. "What's the matter? Pick up your feet!"

Misty hurried to obey Anna, and caught up to her and Ash just as they turned a corner. She found herself in a small room, no larger than a closet. It was bare as well, furnished with only a wooden table and four chairs. Here there sat a man. He had a thick white beard that covered his chin and was gray and wrinkled with age, but his blue eyes sparkled with youth. He looked up from his book as his new pupils entered and rose to greet them.

Hello," he said quietly, "my name is Mordecai, and I am your new tutor."

"My name's Ash!" Ash called excitedly.

Misty stepped forward a little, not wanting to be scolded again.

"And I'm Misty."

"I am very pleased to meet you. Tell me, how old are the two of you?"

"I'm five!" Yelled Ash, waving four fingers in front of his face.

Misty, not wanting to be outdone, interrupted.

"That's nothing, I'm already seven!"

Mordecai laughed a good-natured laugh at the two.

"I'm afraid I've got you both beat." He said. "I'm sixty-two."

Misty giggled. At least her tutor was kind. Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad as she had thought.

"Well, I suppose I'd better be off now." Anna sighed. "Be good. And have fun."

Ash and Misty nodded to her as she left, but their attention was still focused on Mordecai as they wondered what plans he had for the day.

Ash, being five and curious, immediately set about exploring the tiny room. He grabbed a tablet from the table.

"What's this?" He asked.

Mordecai gently took it from him and set it back in its place.

"This is what you'll be using to practice your writing, but we can't get started just yet. I am waiting for my last student to arrive."

"I'm sorry I'm late. Breakfast was served late, and . . ."

Mordecai turned.

"Ah, Philip, you're here. Just in time."

He gestured toward Ash and Misty.

"I would like you to meet Ash and Misty. They will be joining our lessons starting today. Children, this is Philip. I have been tutoring him for several years already."

Misty studied the scowling boy standing before her. He stood a head taller than she, and was one or two years older. His clothes of fine blue silk touted his noble birth. Something about him seemed vaguely familiar, though Misty knew that she had never met him. She had seen him once or twice before, in the castle, but only from a distance. She hadn't noticed anything remarkable about him those times. And Philip did not acknowledge Misty at all. He gave her not so much as a glance, but glowered at Ash. His gaze was full of contemp. He looked at Ash as though he were some dirty animal. Misty was puzzled. She wasn't overly fond of Ash herself, but he wasn't ugly or disfigured. And he had not yet spoken a single word. Why should Philip give him such a hateful look? But Ash was oblivious to Philip's hostility. Everyone was a friend to him, he knew no enemies.

"Hello," he was saying as he stepped nearer to Philip, "I'm . . ."

But Philip simply brushed past him as though he had not heard him at all. Ash drew back with a confused expression, and watched Philip take his seat. He was about to speak again when Mordecai ordered the children be seated, dissolving the awkward situation.

Mordecai then lifted a book from the table and handed it to Philip.

"Read the next twenty lines in book three." He told him.

Now he turned to Ash and Misty, giving them each a wax tablet and a stylus.

"For our first lesson," he said "we are going to begin learning to write."

Ash shifted his attention to Mordecai, and, for now at least, the confrontation was forgotten.

Mordecai picked up his own tablet and scratched a few marks into it.

Then, showing the writing to Ash and Misty, he said "This is the letter 'A'. It makes a sound like 'ah', or 'ay' or 'a'. Your name begins with 'A', Ash."

Ash smiled at the recognition, and Misty rolled her eyes.

"Now, I want both of you to write your own 'A's."

Misty didn't quite understand how lines on a tablet could make sound, but she did as she was told and carefully scratched them out on her tablet. She smiled at her work; it was a pretty letter, almost as good as Mordecai's.

"I'm done first!" Ash cried suddenly, making her jump.

Let me see." Mordecai said.

He looked at the scrawling on Ash's tablet and suppressed a laugh.

"That's a good start, but try to be more careful. It's not a race. How are you doing, Misty?" Misty, frowning, reluctantly held up her work. If Ash's was poor, then surely hers would garner no praise. "Excellent. Ash, look how straight Misty draws her lines. You would do well to imitate her style."

Misty froze. She didn't see Ash stick his tongue out at her, nor did she hear Philip's disgusted sigh. Such unexpected praise had stunned her. It was nothing more than a passing comment to Mordecai, but Misty didn't think she had ever heard such beautiful words. No one had ever, ever compared her favorably to Ash. He seemed to do nothing wrong. But now, at last, she had found something that didn't depend on status or wealth. Finally, here was a chance to prove her worth. Misty knew that she could exceed Ash in this if she only tried. She promised herself that she would not fail.

So every day Misty went to school, and every night, she studied her lessons. In the beginning, it was tedious. Nothing but simple letters and numbers, easy to understand once she had grasped the basics. But soon Mordecai moved on to other subjects, history and mythology. She savored every story of brave generals and jealous gods, enthralled by their adventures. There was the earth goddess, Maia, mother of the human race and nourisher of all living things, and her brother Pelagia who ruled over the sea. Then there was Kantius, for whom Kanto was named, the king who had led his people such a great distance to found his beautiful country. These noble people were unlike anyone Misty had met in her own life. They were so real, so exciting, and Misty admired their beauty and passion.

School was no longer a chore, and Misty excelled in everything she was taught. Mordecai was delighted to see such enthusiasm in his young student, and encouraged her every effort. He often let her stay after the day's lesson to hear more tales, and loaned her picture books of her favorite legends. He always had a word of commendation for her hard work. It was refreshing for Mordecai to teach a student who was so interested in his lessons. Philip worked hard, but he was a vain child who seemed to study only to feed his own egotism. And Ash was steadily falling behind. Unlike Misty, he gave no care for his work and paid almost no attention in class. Misty took great satisfaction in surpassing him. She made it a point to gloat whenever she could, which was quite often. This caused more arguments between them, which only added fuel to Misty's fire.

On this particular day, they were fighting over yet another of Ash's wrong answers. Misty, benevolent as she was, had not hesitated to correct him. "Why does Misty always do better than me?" Ash was whimpering.

"Because I'm smarter than you!"

"Are not! Anna says that I'm gonna be king someday, so-"

"That doesn't mean anything! You're only-"

"Enough!" Mordecai thundered.

Ash and Misty immediately snapped to attention. "Ash, Misty performs better than you because she studies and takes interest in her work. You would do just as well as she if you would only take your lessons more seriously."

"And you," he said, silencing Misty's sniggering, "you could stand to be a little more humble. Remember, 'Pride goeth before a fall.'"

"But I-"

"No buts. It's going to get you into trouble someday if you're not careful."

Misty cringed as Ash had his turn to laugh. Even Philip, always absorbed in his studies, looked up to smirk.

"This isn't fair!" She thought. "Ash is the prideful one, not me! I wouldn't have to show off if he would quit bragging all the time!"

She held her tongue for fear of rebuke, but inside, her spirit raged like the ocean of an approaching hurricane. Misty was accustomed to such slights, but this was different. She had been humiliated, here, the one place where she had respect, betrayed by her trusted mentor. Worse, any defense she might give would only bring more reprimands. It wasn't the least bit fair. But Misty determined that she would redeem herself. She would find a way. She would prove her worth to Mordecai, Ash, and anyone else who dared question her. She needed only to wait until the opportunity presented itself. And she did not have to wait long. Soon after, Mordecai announced that King Ashton would be visiting to check on the children's progress later that month. Misty recognized her chance at once. She eagerly anticipated the king's visit. She studied as she had never studied before and crammed every detail she could into her small head. It was hard, but she kept her eyes on the goal. The prize would be worth the difficult work. At last, the awaited day came. Misty sat up in her seat, confident that she would give a grand performance for the king. She watched him as she waited. He stood in the back of the room and carried himself with somber dignity. Even if he had been wearing rags, anyone would have recognized him as one of royal blood. Suddenly, he noticed Misty's gaze and turned her eyes toward her. But Misty would not be intimidated. She met the king's gaze strait on. Today, even he would wonder at her knowledge.

Now Mordecai was beginning, so Misty put her thoughts away for the time being.

"Hello children, I hope you have prepared well." He addressed them.

"Today we will show his majesty King Ashton what we have learnt so far. Your highness, I am sure you will be most pleased by your sons' progress. Let's begin, shall we? Ashton gets the first question. Ashton, what is the name of the king of the gods?"

"Easy," Misty thought, but Ash stumbled a bit.

" . . . Is it . . . Caelus?"

"Correct. Well done. Now Philip. Philip, what is the name of the hero who defeated Johto's army at the battle of Viridian?"

"Kantius III, of course."

Misty's turn was next. This was the moment for which she had prepared. She patiently awaited her question.

"Ash, another question for you."

"What?"

Misty suddenly realized that she had been skipped. Surely it was only a mistake.

"Mor-"

"What is three plus six?"

"Um . . ."

Misty was incensed. After she had worked so intently, would she now be denied her moment of glory? Her anger grew as she watched Ash clumsily counting his fingers. Finally, she could bide it no longer. Her chair clattered to the floor as she leapt from it.

"Nine, you idiot! The answer's nine! Don't you know anything?!"

"Misty!"

And then she was sprawled on the floor, and her head was throbbing and spinning, and a thundering voice was yelling "You insolent little wench! Who do you think you are to speak to my son like that?!"

And a smaller voice was crying "Stop! Don't hit her!"

And then someone was at her side and helping her to her feet, and when the king next raised his hand to strike Misty, the blow fell upon his own son instead.

All was silent.

Ash stood glaring at his bewildered father while Misty looked on in a daze. No one dared speak.

After what seemed an interminable moment, King Ashton broke the oppressive silence.

"Ashton, why do you defend that wretch of a child when she has insulted you so?"

"She's not a wrench! She's my friend!" There was sharp defiance in his voice.

King Ashton gazed upon his child's fierce countenance and was visibly shaken. Those eyes were strikingly familiar. He spoke again, this time not to Ash but to Misty.

"Heed me, girl. I have no fondness of you. You are here only because my dear Catherine once loved you. But check yourself, or I promise you, your life will become most difficult."

With these words, he turned and departed from the room, leaving Mordecai to tend the injured children.

Misty sank to the floor.

"Misty, are you all right?!" Ash demanded, grabbing her wrist and her attention.

"I'm fine!" She replied curtly, jerking her wrist from his grasp. "Leave me alone!"

er heart was a turbulence of emotions. She was mortified, angry, dispirited- but there was another feeling. What was it? Joy, Misty decided- joy borne of kindness. And confusion. Ash had thrown her totally off guard. He had always been her opponent, her rival. Never would she have imagined that he would protect her. What was she to think of him now? She hadn't a clue of how to react. Grief and happiness mixed, and the whirl of conflicting emotions flooded her heart. She felt a tremendous energy coursing through her body, yet she was overwhelmed. Misty was loathe to show weakness, but she couldn't hold back her tears no longer. She turned her face away in shame.

"Idiot. You should've known better." Philip mocked.

But no one gave any attention to him now.

"Why did he hit her?!" Ash exclaimed, now turning his attention to Mordecai.

Mordecai sighed heavily.

"Because she insulted you, his son, and so insulted him as well. As king, he won't tolerate rebellion from those weaker than himself. "

"But that's not fair!"

"You're right, it isn't, but that is how things are." He paused.

"Your father never used to be so cruel. When your mother was alive, he was very kind. I remember it well. But after Catherine died, he became bitter and intolerant. He has suffered very much . . . but that is no excuse for his behavior."

Mordecai spoke to Misty with admonishing, but gentle words.

"I am sorry if I was harsh with you earlier, Misty," he said, "but understand, I only meant to protect you. I was afraid that something like this might happen. You are a good student, but you are also prideful. Boasting will get you nowhere."

"But what else can I do?" Misty burst in desperation. "No one ever notices me!"

Mordecai looked down at her sympathetically and patted her head.

"Work hard and be modest. You can find a place here. It will never be easy for you, but you have people who love you. You can find happiness in this life."

But Misty was incredulous, and she turned her anger on her beloved teacher.

"What do you know about it?!"

Mordecai, however, was unfazed by her bitter response.

"More than you might think." He answered.

Anna soon arrived to collect the children, and after much fuss and fabrication had been made over their bruises, they left school for the day and followed her back down the hall.

"Hurry, hurry!" Anna called back to the dawdling little ones. "I'm late with my chores, and I don't want to fall further behind!"

Ash and Misty ignored her command, but Anna was already far ahead of them, too distracted by thoughts of delayed work to notice. They walked slowly together, in silence, until at last Ash spoke.

"Misty?"

"Yes?"

Misty stopped and turned toward Ash, waiting for him to speak, but he said nothing,only stared at his feet uncertainly.

"Well, what is it?" She asked impatiently.

Ash raised his eyes and faced her.

"I'm sorry. He hit you because of me."

For the second time today, Misty was surprised by Ash's words.

All she could think to say was "It wasn't your fault."

"I know, but . . . Misty?"

"What?"

"Do you . . . hate me?"

Misty searched his expression for any hint of insincerity, but she found none. It puzzled her- why was he asking such questions? She had never known him to care for her before.

But Misty took pity on him, so she smiled and answered "No."

And, much to her own amazement, it was true.

Ever after, Misty would remember this day as bitter-sweet. She had been humiliated, but through it she had realized how much she was loved. Every charitable act, things she had taken for granted before, called to mind Mordecai's words, and it was finally obvious to Misty. Though they were few, those close to her cared about her very much: Mordecai, Anna, and least expected of all, Ash. Despite their bickering, he had defended her without hesitation. Misty's heart softened toward him, and gradually, little by little, a friendship formed between them. They pridefully feigned antipathy toward each other, as if nothing had happened, but some intangible quality had changed. Though they still argued, there was no more cruelty in it. Neither would admit it, but an unusual friendship had blossomed between them. After that day, the tempests that had tormented the people of Kanto began to subside. There was an occasional storm, and the ocean was still rough, but its violent anger seemed quelled for now. Peacefully turning tides marked the days as the years passed.