.:A Dangerous Old Friend:.
.:The Diary of Princess Thalia of Carsona:.
.:Aged 16:.
I've been without a diary for about three weeks now, but Uncle Harte just gave me this knew one! It's a beautiful thing, but not so pretty as the sword he gave me! Yes, a sword! At last, I can go slay demons and confer with wizards, and joust with knights! And maybe father will get a nosebleed, just to complete the happy picture.
When I was little, I always played at writing a journal, because Mama told me it would be an excellent idea to neaten my spidery hand and help my atrocious spelling. But I grew bored of writing an account of every single boring day of my life, so I ended up writing poetry, thoughts or ideas in the pages instead, and maybe the odd drawing done by yours truly!
I am not a child any more, however. I'm sixteen, very nearly a woman in my own right. I don't consider myself a child any more, so I guess I should really think about using this diary Uncle Harte gave me like an adult's diary. But before I do, I think I shall write a curse in it, just in case one of my snotling brothers try to get their thieving hands on it!
Black is the raven,
Black is the rook,
Blackest is he that looks in this book!
Done! Now Assie and Ro will get the green disease or the leper's disease if they so much as think about reading my words! And Father thinks I'm immature...
So, what can I say about my birthday? It was fantastic! Uncle Harte come all the way especially, and he gave me this diary and a sword! Of my own! And Mama says she's even convinced Father to let me learn to use it. She got kidnapped by an evil group of magicians called the Dark Knights as a girl – just a little older than I – so she says it is important for me to learn to defend myself in battle. Nothing that exciting ever happens to me, not unless you think running away and going missing for ages counts as that amazing. Father was furious with me, and for punishment he struck me and forbade me speak with my childhood friend, Seth.
Did anything interesting happen to me today? Well, not unless you count the fact I found a letter hidden beneath one of the cushions in my private sitting room! It was from Duke Darren, asking me to meet him in Queen Lasiner's Ballroom. Which, might I add, is hardly used any more because the last king built a ballroom in the extension of the palace, which is about three times the size and even more grand. But Queen Lasiner's Ballroom still has its great curtains hanging, and even I know where the serving girls and guardsmen steal kisses from each other. No doubt, that's what His Grace had in mind, and then who know where I would find myself? Seth once said that his dad had his mum up the pole and up the isle when she was just seventeen; I wonder if that would happen to me? Ergh, but he's like twice my age – albeit handsome! He also asked me to dance with him again, in case I'd forgotten his request for my upcoming birthday ball. Must go now; the serving ladies are fussing something awful because it's almost time for the banquet. At least I get to sit next to Assie!
Yours Faithfully, Thalia.
.:Eloryn P.O.V:.
Duke Darren. Now there was a young man who was not afraid of hiding his feelings behind a sombre face, as many of Thalia's suitors did. It was quite obvious that the man, who could easily have been a decade older than the girl herself, was not infatuated with her; I felt an immediate dislike to him. Thankfully, Bacall did not seem to warm to the man in the least.
After the celebrations for Thalia's sixteenth birthday were over and done with, Duke Darren was diplomatically told to keep his distance, and he departed that self same morning without so much as a word of goodbye to Thalia. The Princess herself did not seem in the least bit bothered by his sudden departure, too absorbed with the exciting prospect of finally being allowed to learn how to wield a blade.
Two weeks after the ball, Bacall tired of his mistresses and barged into my room. After he had used me, the King lay back down on the bed and placed an arm around my shoulder. I hoped he did not feel me tense as he drew me closer to him, for Bacall never remained in my room for more than ten minutes after sex. He did not speak, but kept his eyes raised to the ceiling above our heads. I closed my eyes and let myself relax slightly, wondering if, after sixteen years of marriage, I would finally wake up in the morning and find myself looking at the face of my husband.
"I have a new advisor arriving tomorrow morning," Bacall finally told me, though he sounded bored. "Aswen and Roag are going hunting, and I have a meeting with the healers at nine. No doubt they shall want more freedom to publish their damn journals, or grants to hack up our country's dead. I doubt I shall see daylight again – so to speak – till the evening, and therefore I want you and Thalia to meet the man on my behalf."
"You honour us." I didn't know what else to say, and smiled as Bacall looked at me. "Thalia and I shall do as you ask."
"It's a shame I won't be there," Bacall said, absently stroking my neck with his calloused fingers. "But he will have to excuse me." There was something strange about the way he looked at me, as though he were trying to pass a judgement. He took my chin in his hands and turned his face up towards him, staring into my eyes almost desperately. "You would tell me if you knew something was wrong."
His words took me by surprise. I gaped at Bacall, unable to hide my amazement. "I...I...don't know... Bacall, what are you talking about?"
"I think Thalia is...messing around." Bacall released my chin. "Has she said anything to you?"
"No, my lord." He looked at me again. In his eyes, I saw he was fighting with yet more trouble, and my daughter was not at its heart. "Would you tell me if something was wrong?"
I half expected Bacall to strike me. The look in his eyes was suddenly wild and furious, and he sat upright in bed with a strangled sound – something between a grunt and a snarl – escaping his throat. Then, to my surprise, Bacall settled back down and drew me close to him once more, resting his head on top of my head. "Do you wish to know, Eloryn?"
I hesitated, unsure of how to answer. "Do you think I should know?"
My husband cursed bitterly. "One of my mistresses is with child. Three months, and she only decided to tell me today!" Now I knew the reason for his visit and for the rough treatment I had received: he was furious, and maybe even a little frightened.
"But you've dealt with these types of situations before, Bacall," I said, remembering what he had told me when our marriage was consummated.
"I don't want to talk about that, Eloryn. Now, go to sleep."
"Then remedy the situation yourself," Myron said to me that evening, leaning against a tree by our road, absolute glee written on his face. "Have another of my children."
"That doesn't help, Myron," I growled, then shook my head. "Do you think I should be worried?"
The magician shrugged slightly, folding his arms across his chest. "No, I don't. I did warn you about him, Eloryn, but you---"
"I don't need a history lesson from you, Myron!" I shouted at him. "I need advice!"
He scowled at me, looked down to his feet, then snorted with laughter. "The baby isn't going to be an issue because Bacall isn't going to want a scandal on his hands. Thalia, if she really is messing around, that could be a problem. Make sure she knows about anti-pregnancy---"
I groaned outright, hiding my head in my hands. "No! Gods above, Myron, whoever Thalia is given to will have arranged the marriage for political reasons. They're going to want a virgin bride!"
"All the more reason to nag her," Myron replied dryly. "Unless you'd like me to have a father-daughter chat with her, only I'll most probably find out the name of the young man and leave Thalia to plan his funeral. The person you've got to look out for is this new adviser Bacall's called in – now that could be dangerous."
I'd guessed that much already. As Myron talked, I watched him closely, wanting to remember as much of his words as possible. "He may not be a friend. Does Bacall know much about him? Did he give you a name?" I shook my head. "All the more reason not to anger him. Just watch him, find out as much as you can about him, and I'll speak with you tomorrow night."
Thalia was grumbling besides me, obviously sweltering despite the shade of the tent above our heads. It was an unnaturally hot day down at the harbour, and the King's new adviser was even now waiting to be allowed off the great ship that toward before us.
"Mother, this is so stupid!" Thalia whispered to me. "What are we supposed to say?"
I patted her arm sympathetically but only to humour the girl. She was missing sword practise for this, and I knew she was probably dying to get back to the palace, she was so attached to the sword. "My dear, all you need say is 'Hello', 'welcome' and 'it's so nice to have you with us'."
"But why?"
"It's called manners, my dear, and stop fussing."
"No, I mean why am I here, and not Assie and Ro?"
"Because you are a Princess of Carsona, nearly an adult, and it's about time you started acting like one." Thalia flinched under my quiet scolding, her pale face turning down so that it was hidden behind her black curls. On the ship ahead of us, I saw a dark-robed man begin to stride down the gangplank towards dry land, flanked by several scrawny cabin boys staggering under the weight of heavy trunks. "And if I am not mistaken, your father's..."
"My father's new adviser?" Thalia offered sourly, but I could barely answer her. I stared at the man walking towards us along the jetty, saw the confident strides and dark blue eyes, and thought for one terrifying moment that I was dreaming.
My dream faded into a nightmare.
The man stopped before us and bowed lowly, a great, sweeping movement that offered the two member of the royal family ever inch of respect that was due to them. His voice, when he spoke, was stern and chilling, waking memories that for years I had tried to keep hidden.
"Majesty, Highness, I am honoured that you would meet me."
The magician straightened and looked at me. A glimmer of recognition flashed in his eyes, eyes that were so familiar to me. I looked at my daughter, my throat unbearably dry, and found the same pair of blue eyes staring back at me. Oh, gods above! I thought wildly, as I looked sharply back at the new adviser, who for years I had presumed dead. No! Gods no, it can't be Elan!
I had never seen the man's face, but I had heard his voice before, and his features were too similar to Myron's for comfort. Fighting back my nerves, I inclined my head. "We are...glad you are here." It was so hard to say, and every fibre of my body seem to be screaming out in warning. But he's dead! He has to be dead!
So busy was I panicking, I scarcely noticed Thalia step forwards and offer her hand to the King's new adviser. "Welcome, sir. I'm afraid the King is in an important meeting that cannot by interrupted, but would you like to dine with us while you wait for him? I'm sure you are fair exhausted after your voyage."
Thalia, what are you doing? I couldn't do anything. I could only stand and watch, helpless, as Elan – the former leader of the Dark Knights, brother of my lover, and uncle to my child – turned his eyes to my daughter. His back stiffened slightly, head rising. Then Elan smiled.
"It would be an honour, Princess."
And when he turned to me once more, Elan gave me my own cruel, if fleeting, smile. It was as if the man had struck me hard across the cheek, and I knew he recognised Thalia, though not as the daughter of a king.
Martini the brave - Yea! Another chapter up! A general note to everyone, though, sorry it took so long, only revision is being a toothless crone. Thanks for support!
Pirate - Thank you for the comment! Hope you enjoyed this one.
windcriesjimi - Sorry last comment cofused you! Thanks for reviewing though...though I cann'ah spell :(
Everyone else, hope you enjoyed too! Llamas, Ginger-Bizkit!