Talents
Title: Talents
Description: Judge her not by the things you see, but by the things she does.
A/N: Set in the same alternate Silver Millennium universe as The Gardens of the Four Heavenly Queens, which should probably be read first (use tag for "chronicle of days" or "alternate silver millennium"). Celadon = Jupiter, Cinnabar = Mars, Celsian = Venus, Celestine = Mercury. Eventually I will get to the Shitennou...
I: Theory
“That girl, a general?” He shook his head disbelievingly, watching the girl who would be the Heavenly Queen of the West sashay down the hall. “We are well and truly doomed, my prince.”
His companion smiled serenely. “I like to think that each of them has their own particular talents, Lord Barix. Not only is she a natural and inspiring leader, but those who she cannot persuade with her beauty, Celsian will win over with her golden words and silver tongue. She will be so beloved that no one will think of making war, only love.”
“Perhaps...” Barix’s lingering skepticism was apparent as he rubbed a hand over his thinning hair.
Endymion took the opportunity to lift another glass of ruby-colored wine from a server’s tray and press it on the ambassador.
“And that one, Endymion?” he asked, accepting the glass and motioning with it at the redhead who had just slammed her heel directly onto her overly-familiar dance partner’s toes and stalked away, fuming. His cries of pain and the curls of smoke rising around her skirts were a highly effective deterrent to the approach of other partners. “I hope you aren’t expecting her to be receptive to lovers’ addresses.”
Seemingly unconcerned by the fact that his ballroom draperies were at risk of catching on fire, Endymion responded, “No, no. My Cinnabar sees the future. She has the power to keep us safe from dangers without and within.”
With a hint of wistfulness in his voice, he added, “She is not to be troubled by the attentions of callow youths.”
“Hmm.” Barix paused, this time not in thought but in shock as a girl with eyes and hair the color of leaves dropped out of a tree not five paces from them. The crown of the oak was taller than the balcony they stood on, and yet she seemed to be entirely uninjured.
The prince narrowed midnight blue eyes, picking out the tell-tale gleam of steel among sequins. “Celadon stands for honor and truth, and it is through her strength that they are upheld throughout our kingdoms.”
“And the last?”
“Certainly not the least,” Endymion returned swiftly, angling himself subtly so that the older man’s view of the slender girl slipping into the dark passage behind the heavy brocade curtains was obscured. “Celestine keeps the secrets of the realm.”
“And yours as well, my liege?”
For the first time that night, Endymion’s smile was sad. “Yes, mine as well.”
There were more of them than he wanted there to be, and she knew fewer of them than he wished.
****~**~****
II: Application
When the ball to honor the ambassador’s arrival concluded, most members of the court sought their beds at once, for the hour was late and the prince rose early. In one wing of the palace, however, the candles continued burning well past the time when the ambassador’s heavy snores started to disturb his neighbors.
The flames of the four candles placed on the table flickered in the breeze, creating a fiery golden backdrop for the four seated in the room and the inky shadows they cast.
While Celadon stretched out a muscle cramp in her leg, Cinnabar averted her gaze from the steady blue hearts of the flames. Celsian sat serenely, only the minute rise and fall of her chest indicating that she was more than a beautiful statue. Endymion alternated between his sheaf of papers and keeping an eye on the door.
“She will come when she is ready, Endymion.”
He nodded at Celsian’s words and returned to his work. He still listened for any sign of a step or the softest scuffle on the hallway tiles.
When the candles had burned down another mark, the door opened quietly to admit a skinny youth dressed in messengers’ grab. He approached them boldly, neglecting to bow to the prince before he sank into the empty chair with a sigh of relief. While Cinnabar passed over the blue spiral candle and Celadon poured a generous portion of mulled cider, the youth’s straw-colored hair lengthened and turned blacker than the midnight pond, and his form become at once smaller, softer, and more curved.
“The message has reached Vicereine Feria,” Celestine said softly as she lit her candle from its nearest neighbor, Celsian’s elegant ochre taper.
“Excellent. And you are well?” the prince inquired solicitously.
She nodded, the set of her features serious. “I was unseen and unharmed.”
“Then let’s review tonight’s gleanings, shall we?” Celsian said.
The others nodded, mindful that the remaining hours of the Moon’s reign in the sky were few.
Celadon spoke first, her smile at once grim and lovely and triumphant. “Count Elsin shouldn’t be a problem any longer.”
“I hope there wasn’t any permanent damage,” Endymion said. It would mean trouble if the young heir, whose presence at court was meant to guarantee the good behavior of his sometimes reckless ministers, had been unduly harmed.
She glanced up scornfully, the candlelight burning her emerald locks. “Please, have more faith. I have a much more delicate touch than that. I didn’t even scratch his pretty face, and none of the bruises will show. Provided that he spends the next few days wearing long sleeves.”
“I think that should be sufficient to show that our prince, while protected by mere females, is adequately protected.”
“More than sufficient,” Celadon smirked.
Cinnabar shook her head, causing her scarlet tresses spill over her shoulder gracefully. “You would think by now that people would learn the Heavenly Queens are not to be trifled with.”
“Ah, well. The Syrinks is a new territory, and its people are still learning our ways.” Celsian smiled, showing her pearly white teeth. “It is our duty to see that they learn them quickly.
“Now, I heard something interesting from General Isang. He was too busy trying to look down the neckline of my dress to pay attention to all the confidences slipping out of his very wide mouth.”
The others leaned forward as she said, “Lady Metanya is bringing her daughter to court. According to General Isang, she is young, accomplished, and, of course, beautiful - she is rumored to be possessed of a wealth of auburn hair and very striking amber eyes. Their land, as you know, borders the rebellious duchies of Karmin, and they have managed to maintain good relations despite the unrest and constant succession of leaders. That treaty, as well as her daughter’s face and pedigree, are the main bargaining chips with which Lady Metanya hopes to contract the marriage. She believes Endymion and Elysion can be ruled by her daughter, and through extension, by her.”
They alternately laughed or smiled at this thought. Endymion, who had spent nearly all of his formative years among them, was fairly inured to the charms of beautiful women. He was unlikely to be ensnared by a girl whose intentions were already so transparent.
“Any news from you, Cinna?”
She shrugged, her profile now troubled. “The signs are growing ambiguous and more difficult to read. I will probably leave for the East tomorrow, where things are usually clearer. For the present, I would say there is no immediate danger...”
“But?”
Cinnabar sighed. “I saw the white rabbit again. I know it was the same one I have been seeing, because it had a silver collar around its neck and eyes the color of sapphires. Change is coming, from the Moon, in a form that we may not expect, but I don’t know whether this change will prove favorable or fatal.”
“Travel between our worlds has not been permitted for centuries,” Celestine said. “It would seem that any contact would be momentous.”
“It would seem that the gates need to be better guarded,” Celsian remarked, the tightening of the smooth skin around her temples belying her idle tone.
Endymion nodded in confirmation, making a note to draw up an order requisitioning the appropriate supplies.
“I’ll see to it,” Celadon promised.
With that, they extinguished the candles and prepared to adjourn for the night.
“Stay.” The quiet command was accompanied by a gentle but unmistakable pressure on Cinnabar’s wrist.
When the others were out of earshot, Celsian murmured, “You were overhasty tonight.”
“But he-”
“It is permissible to excuse yourself mid-dance or otherwise verbally signal your displeasure. But don’t draw so much attention to the event. This is the third time this month the servants will need to scrub the scorch marks off the ballroom tiles, and they talk.”
“I don’t know how you can stand such things,” Cinnabar responded, the bitter notes of tears and wrath heavy in her whisper. Celsian was often surrounded by men, and she seemed entirely unperturbed by their attentions, no matter how she disparaged them in private.
The other woman’s eyelids lifted at the implication. “I do my duty as I see fit. Perhaps you should think about how well you are fulfilling yours.”
She proceeded down the corridor without another word, and Cinnabar looked down at the fragments of red wax clutched in her fist. There was another thing that would have to be replaced, then. She made her way to the nearest portal and left the Golden Palace within the hour.
****~**~****
The next morning, Cinnabar woke in her fire-ringed pavilion to find a note brought by one of Celsian’s gemmed messengers. In a familiar curved script, it read, If they know your weaknesses, they will use them against you.
It was the nearest thing to an apology she would get. That, and the look of fear on her offender’s face when he knelt before her in the gardens, babbling his most profuse apologies. Clinging to his ear, where a miniscule ruby drop of blood was starting to bead, was one of Celsian’s jeweled creatures.
****~**~****
Description: Judge her not by the things you see, but by the things she does.
A/N: Set in the same alternate Silver Millennium universe as The Gardens of the Four Heavenly Queens, which should probably be read first (use tag for "chronicle of days" or "alternate silver millennium"). Celadon = Jupiter, Cinnabar = Mars, Celsian = Venus, Celestine = Mercury. Eventually I will get to the Shitennou...
I: Theory
“That girl, a general?” He shook his head disbelievingly, watching the girl who would be the Heavenly Queen of the West sashay down the hall. “We are well and truly doomed, my prince.”
His companion smiled serenely. “I like to think that each of them has their own particular talents, Lord Barix. Not only is she a natural and inspiring leader, but those who she cannot persuade with her beauty, Celsian will win over with her golden words and silver tongue. She will be so beloved that no one will think of making war, only love.”
“Perhaps...” Barix’s lingering skepticism was apparent as he rubbed a hand over his thinning hair.
Endymion took the opportunity to lift another glass of ruby-colored wine from a server’s tray and press it on the ambassador.
“And that one, Endymion?” he asked, accepting the glass and motioning with it at the redhead who had just slammed her heel directly onto her overly-familiar dance partner’s toes and stalked away, fuming. His cries of pain and the curls of smoke rising around her skirts were a highly effective deterrent to the approach of other partners. “I hope you aren’t expecting her to be receptive to lovers’ addresses.”
Seemingly unconcerned by the fact that his ballroom draperies were at risk of catching on fire, Endymion responded, “No, no. My Cinnabar sees the future. She has the power to keep us safe from dangers without and within.”
With a hint of wistfulness in his voice, he added, “She is not to be troubled by the attentions of callow youths.”
“Hmm.” Barix paused, this time not in thought but in shock as a girl with eyes and hair the color of leaves dropped out of a tree not five paces from them. The crown of the oak was taller than the balcony they stood on, and yet she seemed to be entirely uninjured.
The prince narrowed midnight blue eyes, picking out the tell-tale gleam of steel among sequins. “Celadon stands for honor and truth, and it is through her strength that they are upheld throughout our kingdoms.”
“And the last?”
“Certainly not the least,” Endymion returned swiftly, angling himself subtly so that the older man’s view of the slender girl slipping into the dark passage behind the heavy brocade curtains was obscured. “Celestine keeps the secrets of the realm.”
“And yours as well, my liege?”
For the first time that night, Endymion’s smile was sad. “Yes, mine as well.”
There were more of them than he wanted there to be, and she knew fewer of them than he wished.
****~**~****
II: Application
When the ball to honor the ambassador’s arrival concluded, most members of the court sought their beds at once, for the hour was late and the prince rose early. In one wing of the palace, however, the candles continued burning well past the time when the ambassador’s heavy snores started to disturb his neighbors.
The flames of the four candles placed on the table flickered in the breeze, creating a fiery golden backdrop for the four seated in the room and the inky shadows they cast.
While Celadon stretched out a muscle cramp in her leg, Cinnabar averted her gaze from the steady blue hearts of the flames. Celsian sat serenely, only the minute rise and fall of her chest indicating that she was more than a beautiful statue. Endymion alternated between his sheaf of papers and keeping an eye on the door.
“She will come when she is ready, Endymion.”
He nodded at Celsian’s words and returned to his work. He still listened for any sign of a step or the softest scuffle on the hallway tiles.
When the candles had burned down another mark, the door opened quietly to admit a skinny youth dressed in messengers’ grab. He approached them boldly, neglecting to bow to the prince before he sank into the empty chair with a sigh of relief. While Cinnabar passed over the blue spiral candle and Celadon poured a generous portion of mulled cider, the youth’s straw-colored hair lengthened and turned blacker than the midnight pond, and his form become at once smaller, softer, and more curved.
“The message has reached Vicereine Feria,” Celestine said softly as she lit her candle from its nearest neighbor, Celsian’s elegant ochre taper.
“Excellent. And you are well?” the prince inquired solicitously.
She nodded, the set of her features serious. “I was unseen and unharmed.”
“Then let’s review tonight’s gleanings, shall we?” Celsian said.
The others nodded, mindful that the remaining hours of the Moon’s reign in the sky were few.
Celadon spoke first, her smile at once grim and lovely and triumphant. “Count Elsin shouldn’t be a problem any longer.”
“I hope there wasn’t any permanent damage,” Endymion said. It would mean trouble if the young heir, whose presence at court was meant to guarantee the good behavior of his sometimes reckless ministers, had been unduly harmed.
She glanced up scornfully, the candlelight burning her emerald locks. “Please, have more faith. I have a much more delicate touch than that. I didn’t even scratch his pretty face, and none of the bruises will show. Provided that he spends the next few days wearing long sleeves.”
“I think that should be sufficient to show that our prince, while protected by mere females, is adequately protected.”
“More than sufficient,” Celadon smirked.
Cinnabar shook her head, causing her scarlet tresses spill over her shoulder gracefully. “You would think by now that people would learn the Heavenly Queens are not to be trifled with.”
“Ah, well. The Syrinks is a new territory, and its people are still learning our ways.” Celsian smiled, showing her pearly white teeth. “It is our duty to see that they learn them quickly.
“Now, I heard something interesting from General Isang. He was too busy trying to look down the neckline of my dress to pay attention to all the confidences slipping out of his very wide mouth.”
The others leaned forward as she said, “Lady Metanya is bringing her daughter to court. According to General Isang, she is young, accomplished, and, of course, beautiful - she is rumored to be possessed of a wealth of auburn hair and very striking amber eyes. Their land, as you know, borders the rebellious duchies of Karmin, and they have managed to maintain good relations despite the unrest and constant succession of leaders. That treaty, as well as her daughter’s face and pedigree, are the main bargaining chips with which Lady Metanya hopes to contract the marriage. She believes Endymion and Elysion can be ruled by her daughter, and through extension, by her.”
They alternately laughed or smiled at this thought. Endymion, who had spent nearly all of his formative years among them, was fairly inured to the charms of beautiful women. He was unlikely to be ensnared by a girl whose intentions were already so transparent.
“Any news from you, Cinna?”
She shrugged, her profile now troubled. “The signs are growing ambiguous and more difficult to read. I will probably leave for the East tomorrow, where things are usually clearer. For the present, I would say there is no immediate danger...”
“But?”
Cinnabar sighed. “I saw the white rabbit again. I know it was the same one I have been seeing, because it had a silver collar around its neck and eyes the color of sapphires. Change is coming, from the Moon, in a form that we may not expect, but I don’t know whether this change will prove favorable or fatal.”
“Travel between our worlds has not been permitted for centuries,” Celestine said. “It would seem that any contact would be momentous.”
“It would seem that the gates need to be better guarded,” Celsian remarked, the tightening of the smooth skin around her temples belying her idle tone.
Endymion nodded in confirmation, making a note to draw up an order requisitioning the appropriate supplies.
“I’ll see to it,” Celadon promised.
With that, they extinguished the candles and prepared to adjourn for the night.
“Stay.” The quiet command was accompanied by a gentle but unmistakable pressure on Cinnabar’s wrist.
When the others were out of earshot, Celsian murmured, “You were overhasty tonight.”
“But he-”
“It is permissible to excuse yourself mid-dance or otherwise verbally signal your displeasure. But don’t draw so much attention to the event. This is the third time this month the servants will need to scrub the scorch marks off the ballroom tiles, and they talk.”
“I don’t know how you can stand such things,” Cinnabar responded, the bitter notes of tears and wrath heavy in her whisper. Celsian was often surrounded by men, and she seemed entirely unperturbed by their attentions, no matter how she disparaged them in private.
The other woman’s eyelids lifted at the implication. “I do my duty as I see fit. Perhaps you should think about how well you are fulfilling yours.”
She proceeded down the corridor without another word, and Cinnabar looked down at the fragments of red wax clutched in her fist. There was another thing that would have to be replaced, then. She made her way to the nearest portal and left the Golden Palace within the hour.
****~**~****
The next morning, Cinnabar woke in her fire-ringed pavilion to find a note brought by one of Celsian’s gemmed messengers. In a familiar curved script, it read, If they know your weaknesses, they will use them against you.
It was the nearest thing to an apology she would get. That, and the look of fear on her offender’s face when he knelt before her in the gardens, babbling his most profuse apologies. Clinging to his ear, where a miniscule ruby drop of blood was starting to bead, was one of Celsian’s jeweled creatures.
****~**~****