Onwards! Upwards!

[horizonchaser]

Just crankin'! Poor Ben, he got brought in this afternoon so the girls could bathe without his special brand of 'helping'. e.e; You never heard such whining in your life. Unless you have a spoiled brat brother told by by his fiance no lovin' till the wedding.



Aralyne glided through the palace, a smile and merry greeting for all she passed, highest to lowest. It was a perfect setting for the beauty of the girl with its soaring arches and polished marble faces inset with gilded and enameled ornaments. Celestial blues complemented pure white, accents of jewel tones glittered where the sun could light them.
Luxury smiled from every corner, displayed freely yet tastefully in fine woods and brocades. Formal rooms vied with comfortable and homey corners, the chill of marble countered with sun filled skylights, fireplaces, and tapestries.
Servants, for the most part, roamed the halls. Clad in uniforms of blue and white, they sang and even danced as they worked. It was lovely to see the joy they took in looking after the very heart and soul of the Empire Celestial. Aralyne knew most of them by name. It was part of her education, a nicety her father insisted upon.
For a moment, Aralyne paused, gazing back down the wide central hall with a faint frown. Everyone was so happy. So exalted in their work. If she stopped to chat with any of them, they would gladly tell her about their challenges and triumphs in their employment. Sometimes about the family they were raising to someday work as a palace servant.
It was like that in the city, as well. Merchants ever happy to be merchants, raising merchants to produce more merchants over time. Policemen who could trace back generations of policemen. Aralyne flashed a brilliance of smile to one of the court ladies before turning back to her walk.
What else could there be, but happiness in ones employment? The Empire provided everything its people needed, a place to work, a reason to work from education to retirement. Aralyne waited as a footman opened the door to the pretty white and gilt coach for her, and stepped in to settle on leather cushions.
What else could there be? That question had begun to resonate through Aralyne's mind as she read the old records with her brother. Her father recorded encounters with cities refusing to join with the empire, describing them as squalid, loud, unpleasant, with people in rags and unhappy.
And then he razed them to the ground. Aralyne's brows knit. A city so filthy as Vledig described could never be part of the Empire, it would need to be rebuilt. Sometimes they were. If they had agreed to his rule. Other times, they were left fallow, as a mute testament to the futility of refusing the Empire.
Then there were the demons. Entire cities of them. Aralyne shuddered, but part of her wondered why demons would need cities. And why their women, children, and seniors were allowed to leave. Why demons would have women, children and seniors.
It was vastly confusing, and ten times that as she had delved deeper into those old records. Though it made odd pieces of her childhood come clearer, it was still very confusing.
The full cavalry troop Eduan captained fell out to meet the princess's coach, saluting smartly as she alit, glittering in their dress uniforms. Aralyne giggled softly as Eduan strode to meet her with a deep bow and light touch to her hand.
“Captain Askyr,” she smiled, a warm gaze settled into his wide green eyes, “You and your men honor me. Do allow them go return to their usual duties.”
“Certainly, Princess,” Eduan responded, bowing once more before thanking and dismissing his men. It certainly was understandable to see most leaving with lingering gazes trailed after Aralyne.
“I told Papa you were going to accompany me on a nice ride around Willington Chase Park, which means he's mentioned it at least twice in court, which means at least ten would be suitors crashing in to join us,” Aralyne informed Eduan with a wry smile, taking his arm as he offered it. He exhaled and rolled his eyes.
“Lovely. He shouldn't allow them out unless they have actually proven able to ride. They're downright dangerous.”
“I know. It's awful. Hello, Moonsilk, how is my lovely girl today?” Aralyne's droll tone turned affectionate as her horse was brought to her, a lovely mottled gray mare decked in pale blue harness. Beside her, Eduan's tall chestnut animal waited, frisking a bit in place.
To Aralyne's eyes, there was no man more handsome than Eduan. He was vastly removed from the often feminine looking young and not so young prince's that came from throughout the Empire hoping to court her. Tall, muscular, dark skinned and haired, his eyes stood sharply from his skin and seemed forever to glow golden. There was nothing delicate or elegant about him. He was a strong, powerful man with simple and plain ways. A perfect cavalier.
“I have so much to tell you,” Aralyne assured him as they prodded the horses into easy trots, “There is so much more beyond the Empire than we ever knew.”
“Dad spoke of it, but not in many years,” Eduan agreed, glancing to Aralyne at the soft sound of surprise.
“You knew?” she gasped.
“Yes, but once Dad stopped talking about it, we all did. Is it important?”
“I think so? What did your dad say?” Aralyne wondered, glancing ahead to make sure her way was clear.
“The Emperor decided soon after you were born that you should inherit the Empire as it should be, not what it had become over the centuries. Entire kingdoms had slipped away and become corrupt, evil, or simply forgotten their old loyalties,” Eduan replied, tilting his head as he recalled.
It was difficult. It had been some ten years, and was somehow fuzzy in his mind. That irritated Eduan somewhat, particularly when he could remember every detail of his mother laughingly scolding her children for fingerpainting on her nice clean walls.
“I remember some of that, they told me often that he would return, but I didn't really remember him or Mother,” Aralyne admitted.
“Yes. While the armies were securing the boundaries, an evil mage was able to slip into Shining Star City and kidnapped the Empress, your mother,” Eduan replied, perplexed as he realized that he nearly had to choke the words out. But as he saw Aralyne's stunned expression, he knew that had to be the reason for it.
“Kidnapped?!” Aralyne squeaked.
“Yes. For ...I think four or five years? A year after you were born. Of course, once word of that reached the Emperor, all efforts turned to rescuing her. They finally heard rumor of her being held in the Forest of Forbidden Evil, near the town of Windlass Gate.”
“...I remember,” Aralyne whispered slowly, her eyes wide open, “I remember now. Some... wizard or... And then again, after Diggy was born. They weren't checking the eastern boarders, Papa was trying to return Mother.”
“At first, yes, the Emperor had ridden out to see to some problems on the eastern boarders. Pirates, Dad said. Then they were given word that the warlord who had first taken the queen wasn't dead at all and had managed to take her once more,” Eduan explained, his brows knit, shaking his head after a moment, “But what has that to do with anything?”
“Oh. Well, nothing, I suppose, but with that whole Papa proving himself to Mama thing, and there being nothing left in the Empire that is so incredible, maybe there would be beyond it,” Aralyne explained, rather lamely. Her face fell as she began to spot the young prince's from court closing in on the couple. How lovely it would be if she could hide from them.
“Neither of us is romantic and poetic enough to make a fabulous and character building event of going out and killing things,” Eduan pointed out dryly. Aralyne grimaced. That was all too true.
“Diggy will help, he's good with things like that. But first we have to find something amazing. Like perhaps that warlock or warlord you mentioned.”
“That would be more within our scope. Also, Dad did say something about the Empire considering to bring Windlass Gate into the fold. However, the project was abandoned or forgotten, though he did say the diplomats sent there returned to say a warlord had overtaken the city,” Eduan mulled, watching as four young men crowded in around the couple.
All very fine, very handsome, young princes. Their clothing and demeanors were perfect. Despite having the most impeccable of manners, Eduan knew they would be reduced to fist fighting before the ride had ended, and he would be the idiot to have to break it up.
They did not consider the young captain to be a rival. Fair enough, Eduan did not see them as rivals, either. He knew Aralyne was a plain and simple girl under her nigh on unearthly beauty.
“I see what you mean, that might be perfect, particularly if Diggy can find a lofty and thoughtful way for me to tell you to go and do it,” Aralyne decided, and then she stopped short, reining in her mare.
The ensuing collision between the prince's horses led to a screaming match, and Eduan was positive Aralyne had planned for that to happen.
“Why on earth am I sending you off to prove yourself when it was mother, the poor shepherd girl of the mountains, sending papa, the young emperor, off to prove himself?” she demanded of Eduan.
“Because you prefer me as captain of the cavalry and official riding escort to the princess and not as the first inhabitant of the dungeons in decades,” Eduan explained, pragmatic as the slight grin on his face.
“Very true,” Aralyne sighed, eying him with a warm and loving gaze. He returned that in silence for several moments until a yelp distracted them both. One of the prince's had managed to knock another off of his horse.
Aralyne sighed, shaking her head, at the flurry of fists.
“Well, I suppose you'd best break that up. I'm going back to the palace, I want to ask Papa about that.”
“You can't go without an escort, Princess,” Eduan reminded her wryly, swinging from his horse as he spoke.
“Oh bother,” Aralyne sighed, resting her elbow to the arch of her horses neck and planting her jaw to her palm.
“It won't take long,” he promised with a rolling chuckle.
It didn't take long, Eduan's stern lecture about maintaining dignity before the princess lasted longer than the fight. Aralyne ignored the four young men as they showered her with flowery, heartfelt apologies; and was still ignoring them as she glided into her father's vast office.
Vledig rose from his desk with a wide, pleased smile, absently waving away the young men following his daughter. They bowed, crestfallen, and backed from the room.
“Daughter, I am pleased to see you,” Vledig announced, humorous as he stepped to meet her, “Entertaining some of the young princes?”
Vledig had changed little over the years, his golden hair silvered attractively, his face given character and the seeming of great wisdom. Time had only improved upon perfection.
“Unwillingly. Papa, really, they're annoying.”
“Daughter,” Vledig chided, lightly embracing Aralyne and kissing her brow, “That isn't so, young Shano composes the most wonderful poetry.”
“I'm not a poetry kind of girl, Papa,” she reminded him reproachfully.
“You're a princess, and if you're going to go on about rule and reason...” he warned, more humorous than serious as he returned to his desk.
“I am. I've been studying, and oh don't you give me that look, Papa! I am to be empress and I had better know how, hadn't I?” Aralyne scolded, narrowing her eyes, hands on her hips. Vledig burst out a short laugh at her.
“Princess Fishwife,” he chuckled, shaking his head, “When you come to take the throne, you will know all.”
“...Like... there's some sort of magic on the crown or something?” she inquired, deciding to take her father literally. It was about the only thing left she had to try and make sense of his reluctance to really teach her about ruling the empire.
“It is simply becoming one with the Empire. You'll understand when it happens,” Vledig promised.
“But didn't your grandfather teach you...?” Aralyne wondered, dropping to a seat and peering at her father.
“My grandfather walked me around the boundaries of the Empire,” Vledig responded, uncomfortably, it seemed to his daughter. Something shadowed his eyes, darkened his smile.
“What, Papa?”
“Nothing, nothing. I just remembered how much I miss him,” Vledig demurred, “And I know where you are heading, my hard hearted child. You see nothing but silly poetry and useless epic deeds in my courtship of your mother.”
“You must admit, Papa, it would be far more sensible to show a woman that you can support her and a family.”
“Ah, but in those times, there was not the pure security and safety within the Empire. My parents rule was one of trivialities, they fought between themselves, their low minds brought the Empire to crumble. My grandparents before them had been short sighted as well, until the day Grandfather realized that they had let things slide too far. That is why he took me to see the boundaries,” Vledig explained with a distant and somehow cool smile, “So you see, it was of paramount importance that I should prove myself as perfect to a woman who would be my wife.”
“And her to you?” Aralyne asked, without really meaning to. She flinched back, rather hunkering, at the flickering of anger in her father's eyes.
“Really, Aralyne. You truly are spending too much time with those beneath you.”
“I'm sorry, father, I ...” she whispered quickly, embarrassed. Vledig's features, however, cleared swiftly.
“Forgiven, my dear one. It is a logical question, and I know you prefer logic,” he exhaled slowly, leaning back, “Of course she did to me. She was well known before I ever met her as the wisest of maids.”
“She wasn't a princess...?” Aralyne pressed, watching an amusement tinged aggravation pass over his face.
“Indeed, you are as transparent as glass. In fact, she was of rank. The songs stretch the truth a bit. She had been driven from her place and just due by jealousy.”
“No one would do that.”
“Ah, but they would. Beyond the Empire, where your mother was from, such small minded and cruel frivolities were common,” Vledig assured her with a wry smile.
“Where was she from? Not that ...Forbidden Forbidden Forbidden place?” Aralyne demanded. Vledig narrowed his eyes faintly, but exhaled.
“You should never take those places so lightly, my daughter. Soon you will need to look upon their evil and know it.”
There was a long silence where the very light of the sun pouring through the office windows seemed to dull. Aralyne shivered faintly.
“No, your mother was not from the Forbidden Mountains, but at their very feet. Where many towns and cities existed infected with the evil bled from the city, but are now gone,” Vledig assured her with a grim finality.
“Oh. ...Well.” Aralyne faltered, in difficulties. She fidgeted with her gloves and averted her eyes from her father.
“I know you prefer Captain Askyr, dear one, but for him to claim such a prize as you, he must show far more than simple good sense. There is more to this rule, to this world, than simple good sense,” Vledig murmured, not unkindly, his head tilting, “Something you, too, must learn, before ever the crown is set upon your head.”

“So what do you think of school so far, dear?” Granny Mavelle inquired as she strolled through a wide, rolling alpine field with her granddaughter. Violet ceased her romp after a bouncing spaniel dog and tipped her head, thinking.
“I like it, mostly, I like the teacher, and I like the things we learn and I like my friends, but it's all going to be different next year because it's the upper level school,” she explained, “Am I really just visiting, cause Dad put me on the transport pretty fast.”
“Indeed he did, before you could catch the measles someone brought into town and which he neglected to keep up your immunizations against,” Mavelle responded, dryly amused.
“Oh,” Violet responded, rubbing at her upper arm, “So now I don't get measles or anything else?”
“Now that I have your immunizations up to date, yes. Your father was horrible for that, he'd cry far more than you did for having a needle in your shoulder or bottom,” Mavelle assured her with a wicked cackle.
“Dad wouldn't cry!” Violet burst out with a laugh.
“Don't you believe it. He was always our sensitive one. Now, here's the blueberry field, if you put half the amount that you eat into the buckets, we'll have more than enough for pancakes and muffins in the morning,” Mavelle chuckled, indicating a thick hedge row of the bushes.
“Oooh... These are bigger than the ones around Windlass Gate,” Violet cooed, reaching out and promptly picking three to cram into her mouth, “Sweeter, too!”
“Those are your uncle Meridan's prize hybrids. Spitzy will keep you company, but just holler, Meridan's house is just up the road if you get lost or lonely. Have a good time,” Mavelle smiled, kissing the girls cheek before leaving her to the blueberries.
The dog ran a few circles, confused until she realized she was to stay with Violet. Violet snickered at the dog and got to work, picking berries. About as many ended up eaten as in the first pail.
Violet thumped to a rock to rest, waving purple stained fingers at Spitzy, who gamely licked at them.
“Euw,” she giggled, “We should find a stream or something to wash up in.”
Spitzy quirked an ear, then wagged her stubby tail. Violet decided the dog must understand, and stood to follow as the spaniel bounced away.
There was an outcropping of stone, and Violet trotted to it, leaning back while looking down. She shaded her eyes against the sun, finally managing to pick out the distant sight of Windlass Gate.
It seemed as peaceful as ever, Violet decided, turning back to follow Spitzy as the dog snuffled through the brush. The dog yapped and took up running as the girl followed.
Violet splattered through a shallow stream, squealing in delight, and promptly splashed her hands through the crystal water. Spitzy returned to her, dancing circles around her gaily.
“...You know, I'm beginning to think you're not leading me anywhere but to where your nose is pointed,” Violet remarked, eying the dog. Spitzy yapped and wagged, ready to start up the game of chase once more.
“We'd better start back, silly dog, the sun's starting to go down,” Violet added, brushing herself off and trudging out of the stream. She moved to a clearing and tried to get her bearings.
“Uhm. Well. We go back upwards, I think,” Violet frowned, uneasily realizing that she didn't immediately recognize the area. She chewed her lower lip briefly, and forced a smile onto her face. Well, she was just a little turned around. Understandable, after following after a goofy little dog. Uncle Meridan's house would be within earshot.
“Uncle Meridan!” Violet bellowed, turning a circle where she stood. An echo returned to her after a moment. She giggled and yelled again. Shrugging, she started off, heading upwards.
“He'll meet us half way,” she told the dog.
But it seemed that he wouldn't, despite how anxiously Violet scanned the meadowland. She couldn't even see where the blueberry bushes were, or even the stream she'd found. Fear began to knock at the girl's mind as the shadows grew longer.
“Maybe we should go back down,” Violet decided, realizing that she was getting closer to the line of pine tree forest climbing the mountainside. She fidgeted in place, the dog whining as she seemed to realize their plight.
“...Well... I wonder if you'd go home if I told you to... but then you might run faster than I can and ...oh ...” Violet sighed, hugging herself, “Come on. Maybe they can see us.”
But all she could see was the wide meadow rolling over the hills cradled between the mountains. Nothing seemed familiar and it all looked the same. She tried to find her own trail, and ended up on a deer path.
At least the deer would head for water, Violet decided, looking up and peering through the increasing darkness. She wished she had one of her ponies, they would head right back home when it got dark.
No sense wishing for that, Violet knew. She shivered, looking around wide and dry eyed, her throat tight. Abruptly, she realized she was looking at a large, rather fine house surrounded by tall trees, and let out a yelp of joy.
The house seemed dark, but even if it was abandoned, it was still better than nothing. Abruptly bursting into raspy sobs, the girl rushed down into the little dale where the house stood. She and the dog ended up half-tumbling through tall grass and weeds.
“Well.”
Violet jumped at the severe and disapproving female voice, and struggled out of the tangle she'd landed in.
“Please help me, I'm lost and I don't know where Granny and Grampy or Uncle Meridan's are...!” Violet blurted out tearfully, looking up at a thin, harsh faced woman.
“Oh honestly. Get up and come in. I can't say what sort of fools I think your relations are to let a little git like you run loose out here,” the woman snapped, hands on her hips, “And quit that blubbering, young lady.”
Startled, the sense of relief starting to knock with fear once more, Violet got to her feet and forced herself to stop crying. She wiped at her face, smearing dirt and tears over it. The woman exhaled, put upon.
“Ghastly, simply ghastly. You must wash before you come in.”
“I'm... I'm sorry, ma'am, I...”
“Just come along. I am Mrs. Winnabel, this is my home, I do not keep servants as they are a horrendous waste of money, and I do not coddle silly children who can't stay where they are told to stay,” the woman snapped, turning and briskly marching for her house.
“I'm Violet Starrek...” Violet replied meekly.
“One of them. Ugh. Mavelle is a decent woman, but whatever she was thinking to marry that man and have all those boys, I will never know,” Winnabel noted disdainfully, stopping short at the door. She pointed sharply to a small water pump and bowl.
Violet crept to the pump and worked out enough water to wash her hands and face with. Winnabel inspected the result with a faint grunt, and opened the door.
“You know my family, can you get a message to them, please, ma'am, that I'm here?” Violet asked, creeping after the woman uneasily.
“My dear girl, you can't possibly think I had intended otherwise. I have had far more than my fill of girls about here,” Winnabel snorted wryly, leading Violet to the kitchen despite her words. She sat the girl at a table before the fire and brusquely served her a bowl of stew and bread, setting a cup of milk beside the bowl.
“...Thank you, ma'am.”
“Amazing. Though Mavelle did instill manners in her boys, I admit. I have never found any girl to be anything more than a useless little parasite,” Winnabel declared, looking Violet over critically, “You aren't cursed with beauty, however, that much is obvious.”
Violet glanced at the woman, startled, but supposed she looked fairly miserable. Still, her shoulders sank.
“You don't have any children or a husband? You live here alone?” Violet ventured, hesitant. She didn't want to set the woman off, and she wanted to be polite. It seemed impossible either way, even though there was a strange, absent kindness to Winnabel's actions. She even set a bowl on the floor for the dog.
“Husband works in the city, comes home at the end of the week. We have a wonderful son who is a doctor, I want you to know. A doctor. In the city. He has his own office and is on the board at his hospital. The finest in the city,” Winnabel declared, her tone finally warming with something other than annoyance. It was pride, but a strange and strident sort. Nothing like the pride Violet was used to hearing in her fathers voice.
“That's really good.”
“Indeed it is. An inspiration. And then we had Her,” Winnabel went on, her face and tone souring.
“Her?” Violet inquired nervously, eating rather quicker than she knew she should.
“Her. I knew she was going to be bad news from the moment she was born. Never content. Vain. Selfish. Always wanting frivolities and indecent things. Horrid little brute, but I tried, young lady, to make something decent of her. I put her to good, healthful work. Did no good,” Winnabel snapped, “And coming back crying to me when she'd mucked up whatever arrangement she made with some idiot man. Not any more, I said, I put her right out the last time and told her she was no daughter of mine.”
“...I'm awful sorry, ma'am, I wouldn't want to be like that, my dad's the best dad ever,” Violet whispered, stricken by the woman's announcement. Mrs. Winnabel peered at Violet, seeming ever more annoyed at her words.
“And what about your mother, hm? Mother's just in your way, isn't she? Just a doormat and fool and you don't have to listen to her, you just run to daddy and he lets you get away with all your nastiness.”
“...I... I don't have a mother, ma'am,” Violet admitted, hunkering down even more, “...But I'd... I'd never...”
“Hah! So you say. You're just good and loving to your father to get your way and it's even easier, isn't it, without a mother!” Winnabel accused, wide eyed.
“N...No ma'am, I'd never do anything like that to Granny...”
Winnabel seemed to consider that, her face screwed up in disgust. She finally made a rude noise and refilled Violet's bowl and cup. Despite the roiling in her stomach, Violet managed to eat a bit more.
“Well, you aren't a pretty girl. Pretty girls are nothing but trouble, dragging boys into their nets and stringing them up like foolish trout. My son married a good, solid, sensible woman. Wouldn't put up with the sort of nonsense She brought to the house. Her and Her lovely lost princess act. Pah. Disgusting. You mind me, girl, you're just a plain lanky little brat, so you learn your manners and treat your Granny properly with respect and you'll go much further than trying to be something you aren't,” Winnabel declared with a toss of head.
“Yes, ma'am,” Violet agreed in a faint voice, “I... I can wash the dishes... if...”
“See that you do. I'll see about having you picked up directly,” Winnabel barked, turning and striding from the kitchen.
Not a pretty girl...? Violet dared to glance at her distorted reflection in a copper pot as she shuffled to the sink. Was she? Her father said she was. Her grandparents, uncles and aunts...
Did it really matter? If someone was pretty and was mean, would it matter if they were pretty? Or would it matter if they were mean because they were pretty? Violet scooped up a few mouthfuls of water from the tap, trying to settle her stomach enough to wash the bowl and cup.
Spitzy gazed mournfully up at the girl. Violet managed a smile.
“Oh, Spitzy. It's not your fault.”