Heart of the Realm: Heirloom Talents

"Come, now. You've been in there for hours. What are you up to?" the voice of a lady called through the door. He knew that voice, warm, and penetrating, like a lock-picker's light. And yet he did not answer right away. The boy was deep in his work, hands tied, and holding a flashlight in his mouth. Had he not been hanging inverted from the contraption, he would have surely put something down.

The door opened a crack, but then was quickly thrown up against the adjoining wall, revealing its occupant, the Queen. She was dressed in a casual, yet due-ly elegant, floor-length summer gown. Her long, wavy black hair was done up on one side with barrettes. She folded her arms and leant against the door frame, and laughed.

The little, wannabe-engineer, frozen mid-tweak, and upside-down, turned only his head to look at her.

Busted.

He smiled at her with the flashlight still in his teeth, and said, rather muffled, "Hi Mom."

The dark-haired woman shook her head slowly and raised one hand to her brow. "You look ridiculous," she said.

Indeed, with the boy's hair on-end due to gravity, his shirt coming untucked and attempting to fall 'up', his face red, and the flashlight in his mouth-----never mind the bizarre, trailer-sized configuration he was hanging from-----there was little else to be said. The boy placed the tools he was working with under his arm thus freeing his hand to regrip the flashlight, which he wiped dry on his pant leg before pulling himself upright on the contraption, and leaping to the ground. Natural athletic ability was evident.

"Hi Mom," he said again. "I was just, aah..."

"Just promise me you wont fall on your head," the woman in the doorway interjected.

"I wont," her son insisted, rolling his eyes. He did not expect her to care what he was even working on.

However, she had left the door frame and was now walking towards him, past him, and around the invention with her arms still folded. "I give up," she said at last, gazing up at it. "What is it?"

A whimsical, almost misty sort of daylight was pouring in from the doors of a balcony that were propped open across the room from them. It was a very large room, with blue stone tiles appearing to surface here and there between islands of richly embroidered area rugs, mostly of a darker blue with varying shades of gold and yellow in their designs. In spite of these details, however, this particular room boasted a distinct lack of furniture. Nothing but a humble wooden worktable, a few wall-mounted candles for light in the afterhours, and a lightly padded workstool. All the rest had been laboriously pushed or carried outside onto the balcony, where it all now sat in a confused jumble.

Against the rich tones of the indoors, however, there stood, in strange contrast, a wonder of dark and dingy ironwork made of parts that looked like they had been salvaged from a sunken steamboat. It much resembled an oversized canary cage, except for an air about it which seemed to suggest, rather, occupants like carnivorous dinosaurs. From its top-center, where the iron bars converged like a spider's legs to its body, there hung a large bundle of metallic chips and wires about the size and shape of a haphazard beehive. This is the part which Ansem had been working on when his mother walked in.

The prince himself was tall despite his age; He was only 13, but already almost a head taller than she. His wispy black hair, after he had straitened himself out, was tucked behind his ears as best he could get it to stay, but otherwise long bangs hung in his eyes. He'd fix it up better later, when he was done working. His eyes were a muddy blue, almost gray.

The boy was suddenly delighted. Though his parents had claimed to know of his talent for many years, for the most part they had left him alone in the matter. And that's how he thought he preferred it. He was happy by himself, immersed in his projects. However, now, to be questioned about something other than his safety--------his little heart just overflowed with pride.

"It's one of those elevators like they have down at the docks," he burst out, with a grin. "My friend's dad gave us a ride on one the other day, and, well, I found a book on them in Dad's library. He said I could have it."

His mother shot him a sideways look of surprise. And so you built one? it seemed to say. However, she then asked, "What are you going to do with it when you're done?"

"Well, I was thinking of giving it to my friend's dad, if it works okay," the boy shrugged, clearly more interested in the challenge than its utility.

"Ah," was the reply, and she knelt down to examine the device up close. She ran her fingers over the welds attaching the cage's black bars to their base. "Nice work, Ansem. How long did all of this take you?"

"Just a couple of days, once I found all the stuff."

"And no one helped you?"

"Well, Hans helped, a little bit. But I think he just wanted to make sure I didn't light the rug on fire, or shoot my eye out," the boy laughed as he placed the flashlight, a small pack of screwdrivers, and a bag of screws upon the worktable beside of what appeared to be a crystal-powered welding gun.

There was also a large, beautiful chest upon the table in which these things were kept when not in use. Blue, with gold designs, and actually treasure-chest shaped, with a large keyhole on top for an oversized skeleton key; It was the toolkit of a onetime jewelrymaker, a lifetime ago.

But Ansem didn't know that.

.

AN: Zoe, Ansem's mother, is an original character of mine. Just because I don't feel like messing with this piece any further, I'll just clarify here and now that the point I was trying to convey is that Ansem inherited his mechanical genius from his mom, who I say was formerly a jeweler running an Item Shop before she met his dad. (But I don't want to spoil too much of my story for yeh!)

Oh yeah... And Hans, Ansem's older brother, is a completely original character of mine, too.