B4Istart: Ok so, First chapter is up and I'm a happy camper. Archana's POV is in place for most of the chapter, however at the end, there is a tiny bit of someone who has yet to be revealed. Not much action, just some character introduction. Look foward to chapter two.
Prince of Persia The Water MaidenAn explosion of red dots filled my eyes. My mind went numb and I fell to my knees, groping along the floor. Awkwardly I stumbled up, and groped the rail. My eyes grazed the city lights that shone brightly in the clammy night. Unusual for this time of year, was the chill that ran through the air. I kept my arms close to my shoulders in a futile attempt to keep warm. Heading down a flight of stairs, I met no one. The city was completely empty. I ran through the beautiful streets of my home. The flowers along the beige stone road were crushed and stepped on, and the benches missing legs and snapped clear in half. I kept running, hoping to find someone, anyone. I erased any logic in my mind, any hope for my destination. I felt closer. Closer to India than I had ever before. The lanterns, fireflies, beautiful cloth hanging in the windows of shops were calling me, trying to drown me in light and confusion and stop me from my goal. I remembered these streets. I knew them as children and I know them now. They were what kept me within myself. Without my city walls I could be anyone. I could have been a sailor, a merchant, a warrior, but at home I was a Princess. At home, I was Farah.
Now I saw it. Stretched out before me. A gracious landscape home to a powerful army and a wise ruler. The towers were tall and shone brightly before my dark eyes. The flags waved proudly in the evening breeze. The palace was within my sight. I could see my home. I rushed foward, my sandals slapping againts the stone. I approached the steps which to forgien peoples would seem endless to the top, but to me were familiar and quick. Dashing to the doors. Up, always up. At last I felt the cold handles of the door beneath my finger tips and swung back my arms. I felt a wave of air hit me and it filled my lungs, giving me relief. My eyes widened, a ridiculous grin on my face.
Immediately I saw the hall. Expecting, was I, the ornate archways and red cloths draped across windows and tables with bowls of fruit scattered across the room. Potted palm trees and crowds of people all waiting for something. All waiting for me I guessed. I was the crown Princess, I was their royal. My father would be waiting for me as well. He'd bring me to my quaters because my maid deserved a break, and he'd tell me stories about my mother and all the fun we used to have. We'd eat dinner and I'd throw back my shoulders and give false chuckles at stupid jokes aristocrats always forgot they told two dozen times. That's what I expected. That's what I wanted.
However to no surprise that's not what I found. There were no lavish decorations among the walls. No imported rugs, no fine luxuries that no other kingdom could boast. And most of all, the one thing that stung in my mind the most, was the emptyness, the loneliness. The complete lack of companionship took a moment to sink in. It was unlike me to feel the need to hang off of another, to need to
be in company. But this wasn't independence, this was cold. This wasn't home.
I shot up. My eyes were wide and alert, my shoulder-blade length, brown hair spilled across my shoulders. I was sweating and panting, clearly shaken by what I had "seen". My fingers were spread wide,both hands behind my back and I gazed into the darkness of my bedroom. I was wrapped in my sheets and with much difficulty, threw them from my waist. I needed something, I thought. I stepped onto the cold marble floor, my barefeet sending a shiver through my body with the contact. I strode quietly to my wardrobe and withdrew a gold robe to cover my night attire (no Princess should be seen in such a manner).
I stood in front of the large mirror and examined myself. Long brown hair, half-moon shaped dark blue eyes, small nose, pink lips, olive skin. I may have appeared it, but I was not an average person. I was an attractive, seventeen year old Princess of a powerful empire, and it disgusted me. I was what every girl wanted to be. I was the eye of perfection, and at every banquet and every damned parade and speech I would be there dressed in my best clothes, smiling as if I really cared. I was trapped in a bubble where everyone expected me to be a certain way, while I am waiting just to pop. And then when I would realize that there are people dying in the streets of hunger, and people who work hard and never gain an ounce of respect, I myself feel like scolding me. It's all very complicated.
In many ways, I resembled my mother. She and I are much alike. She too knew the pressures of royal society and the urge to break free. She had been princess of India when she was a girl, and her father, My grandfather (who I was never given the chance to meet) was a powerful Maharajah.
Perhaps that is why I am always given her dreams. Why I always bear her feelings when she herself can't face them. Tonight's was no different from the rest. Queen Farah wished to return to India. Completely understandable, she had been raised there. If I had been asked to leave Babylon for an extended period, I do not know how I would feel. But this was more than just "an extended period". My mother Left India twenty two years ago, in the hands of a close relative, after the war in both Persia and India.
I have heard many variations of this tale. These tales I should say. Mother and Father always insist on pushing these ridiculous fairytales on my brother and I about their meeting and history. They would sit us down and explain in detail of battles and vicious beasts and romantic plot twists. They entirely were set on this, and honestly expected us to believe it. My older brother might have, but he is a bit niave. The citizens tell stories too, about my Father fighting creatures of the dead ressurected by mystical sand. Ha! Imgaine, my Father! And the names of these characters and relics? The Sands of Time, the Hourglass of Time, The Island of Time, The Dagger of Time, The Empress of Time...A bit redundant, no? I had to give them credit though, They could spin quite a yarn (no matter how much fine tuning it may need).
Silently I crept to the doors and exited the room. Checking down both of the pitch black hallways, I made my way to a room I needed no to light to find. The beautiful rugs beneath my feet felt warm and natural as I slowly slipped through the halls of my home. The Portraits adorned the walls were veiled from my vision, But that did not stop me from seeing them clearly in my mind. Every insignifcant detail of the palace...I knew. It was as if the kingdom itself was part of my missing hole. This place defined me more than anything else. Unfortunate, I know.
At last I found myself at the doors of the bedchambers of the Prince of Persia. The Eldest child of the King of the most powerful empire of the world. It is a shame really, that the future of our kingdom lies within the hands of a fool. My brother...he means well to be certain, but his judgment is clouded more than anyones I've ever seen. He shelters himself deliberately, not wishing to engage in the things he considers below a royal position. My father, however, does well to train him. Spending three hours a day training with blades and strenuous workouts. He uses his strengths only to impress mindless women who giggle at his unfunny jokes and clap their hands at his athletic abilities. Such a shame pure talent is put to waste theese days. Throughout our lives, he constantly needs to prove to the world that he is superior (despite nearly everyone's devotion to him). As a child he was spoiled by the royal servants and caretakers. Whatever ridiculous request he made, it was granted. If our mother and father ever found out, they would lightly tap him on the head and use one word, 'no'. Not even the most obedient dog would be able to follow such a simple order.
I however was always the more intelligent one, depite my brother's seniority. I always attended my classes with the private tutors, unlike my brother who would shrug it off as unimportant. He would go out into the courtyards and play with the young sons of whatever lawmakers the court was meeting with that day, while I would tap my foot againts the dusty floor of the large windowed library, flipping through page after page of history and mathematic text books. Sometimes when I would finish, I'd run through the halls past banners and sun-spilling windows, and archways that would lead me outdoors to find them playing. Of course I would beg and plead to allow me to join them, for I truly had no friends of my own (not much different from my present day life). 'Alright,' they would say, 'You can play the princess locked up in the tower' (also not unlike my present day life). And so I was. I waited up at the top of the courtyard staircase that lead to the balcony, crying out in mock distress, 'save me!' for hours while they whacked one another with sticks pretending to be fighting for my honor. While it honestly was entertaining to watch the Prince be beaten continously with stripped palm tree branches, I soon would grow tired, and it wasn't until after my throat had gone sore after all my pleas for help, the chilly breeze set in at the top of the stairs, and a tiny bit of logic seeped into my mind that I realized...this was stupid.
And so even now, after all of these years, my brother and I still do not see eye to eye, yet we have a deep connection and at times seek out one another for guidance. Not counsel,that would be absurd, just a way to relieve ourselves of our troubles. Which is why I stood now, in his doorway, waiting for a confirmation that my sanity remained. That was all I needed, a 'hmm' and a nod.
I came up beside his sleeping form in his large oaken canopy bed, wrapped around maroon sheets, sleeping heavily. Impaciently (almost violently) I shook him.
"Wake up!" I whispered, My fingers pulling at the sheets, "Wake up!"...I was never one for waiting.
"Archana..." he rose slowly rubbing the sleep from his eyes and resting his hands on the bed, "What are you doing?" My brother was young, fit, and nineteen years old. There was no better advantage in his opinion, than the three things I have just named. He had a good amount of dark black stubble on his thin face, and his hair, unusual for the styles these days, was shaven to reveal only stubble on his head as well. His Light brown eyes stared at me upon waking. I went across the room and fetched him his robe. I may have been desperate, but I still would not see him this way while talking to him. I threw the Midnight blue, satin cloth to him and he caught it in his right hand. He tossed it on and tied it tightly around. He looked at me. "What are are you doing?" He asked again.
" I believe I had another one of my nightmares again, and this time I could not fall back to sleep." (Not that I had even tried). " And now it seems they are becoming more and more real and I can't understand why I recieve them," I shook my head and sat back down on the bed, "I know what they mean, I know who I am once in them, just why they're there in the first place is a mystery..." I meant to say more but I trailed off into thought, hoping to solve my own troubles before my brother would have the chance to himself.
"Why how should I know how you recieve them? I've never gotten one myself. It's a shame, I know if I were given one, I would certainly be able to interpret it." He said with a slight smirk of admiration for himself, looking at the ground as if imagining what his own dream would be like.
He is truly unbelievable sometimes. I seek him out for help with a problem, even though I am clearly more capable than he is, and the best advice he can give me is 'I can do better'? He is such a fool, "You are such a fool..." There, "Do you even want to know what the dream was about?" I crossed my arms and leaned slightly to one side, in the same manner as my mother when she is waiting for one of us to give her an answer.
"Alright, Alright! I am sorry...What was the dream about then?" He said in false interest. He stood up and went to the mirror.
"Well I was Mother this time again, and I was in India and it was um, night, or-or early morning or something. I was walking through the city streets and they were completely empty," I looked up from the floor to my brother and saw him looking at himself rather closely, "Ahem..." I coughed to retrieve his attention. He gave me a stupid smile and turned back to face me, sitting on his desk chair. I continued, "When I reached the steps of the palace I started walking up the steps-..."
"Walking up steps in a dream indicates you are reaching understanding of your spiritual status...or possibly that you are unsure of where you are going in your life and hope that by climbing said stairs, you will be able to determine your standing at the top...probably" If I wasn't frustrated with being interupted again I would have noticed a tinge of pink in his cheeks, mixed in with his pride of course.
"What?" I said. Though I knew what. My brother was recently beginning phsycology with his tutor, and he hung on to every word, fascinated by the way the mind works (however little his did.) "Will you stop interupting me?" I continued, " So when I reached the top of the steps, I was in the palace and it was empty and I just- I just was hit with this wave of memories from her and none of them were there. It was awful..." I stood up.
He stood up to, "You didn't tell Mother about this did you?" I looked at him curiously.
"Why? Do you think I shouldn't?" The whole reason I told my brother is because I have been having these dreams for months and I could not hold it in any longer. The pressure of someone else's troubles piled on top of mine was too much for me to handle. And what would mother think if I told her? She would find it as an intrusion no doubt. A violation of memories and worries she thought she had tucked away long ago. And I would only be opening a sealed wound.
"No, I think you should. I think the only other person that could help you understand these and overcome them is the one person is feeling them the most at heart. And we both know who that is." This was strange for him. He is not exactly known for his compassion and understanding. But maybe he was right. Maybe I shoul tell her. It may be the only way to relive myself of the pressure. I'd sleep on it, I thought, and I returned to bed...
"Such a Fantastic story..."
I have done to much to deserve what I have discovered. I have come to far to learn that my troubles and sacrifices were for this. I stood alone in the last place I expected to find myself. This place, however hard I try to deny it, is my home. I reign over these deserted halls on this rock in the middle of these harsh and turbulent seas. Seas I crossed losing good men in the process. Were their lives worth this information. These documents, pages filled with history I never should have learned. I am ashamed of myself.
I Feel the need now, stronger than ever to find redemption. I killed my parents. I killed those men. I used my powers to destroy and now I feel as if I'm losing control to them. I am not fit to be an Emperor. If I can not hope to live up to my 'mother'. I cannot erect armies, purge the seas, Cast shadows over time. I am a failure. I hope only now that I may find some way to utilize this information, to take back what is mine, and make the time my own, just as she had...
AN: Well The first chapter is done and IMO quite boring. Hehe, well I will be working hard on delivering the Next chapter Hopefully getting closer to the Aquatic feel this story is Meant to have. And for the record, as I have said, these characters are based on The POP 4 Concept art. However, only one of the characters in this chapter appeared in the leaked images, however briefly...know who it is...?