The Heiress
Alryne
I speared a meatball with the fork, watching as the thick, red sauce slowly oozed back onto the plate. Rotating the fork in hand several times, I searched in vain for an angle that might render the morsel even marginally appetising. The sweet scent of the sauce isn’t helping either. Resigned, I set the fork down, abandoning the impaled meatball to its fate and reached for a glass of wine instead. It stood out as the sole inviting thing on the overfilled table. Good thing I'm not hungry.
I surveyed the hall, a vast space teeming with guests from every corner of the empire, alongside a distinguished line of other worldly delegates. Most savour the same hearty chunks of meat, seemingly satisfied with the taste. Weeks ago, I shared their satisfaction, even recalling the dish name when my people made me try it. Since then, I've journeyed back to -the real south- and returned to my favourite plates full of vibrant fruits and vegetables, perfect for the seaside. Perhaps that's why I don't find the smell of the sauce or the caramel colour of roasted meat alluring now. And as for the vegetable side on my plate… its just a poor substitute.
"It looks like they've all arrived. What do you think?"
"I think I don't care who arrived. You're all just waiting for me to talk to Steeles anyway." Since my arrival, I've been trying to find the young Athran, but he's nowhere to be seen. I'm certain I'd recognize him instantly - it’s just that among the throng it's hard to find anyone. I'm looking for a blue suit, assuming he, like me, would have something that matches the colour of our lineage. My own red dress, a nod to tradition rather than obligation, was brought in by Riley, though I suspect Damien's hand in its selection.
"Why don't you look the least bit excited? You know the whole family very well. I'd think you'd be eager to meet the youngest member." yeah, I'm dying to repeat the same thing I went through with his brother. And the other one… and the other one.
"I don't see or hear Wall, so, they're certainly not all here." I said instead.
"Cadwallen won't be attending."
"Why not?" I halted my search for a familiar face of the Islander among the guests and faced Peter, slowly chewing the meat. He's clean shaved, brown hair neatly combed to the side. I know exactly how old he is, and yet, somehow he seemed a lot older than me.
"I don't know," he admitted after a pause, reaching for his wine glass. His hand was adorned with a few gold rings. The rose on his signet ring, a symbol he has no right to bear, provokes me. "His message merely stated his inability to arrive on time. We can assume his dear neighbour’s involved." he muses, inspecting the wine as if its aroma could give him a hint of something more. For a man with so many vineyards, he has zero knowledge of the subject. "But maybe that's a good thing, he always drinks way too much. And you along with him. You don't have that gold thing on your head just for fun."
"No, I have the crown because we've grown tired of regents ravaging the empire one by one. And seeing your failure to relay such a simple message, I'm hardly surprised." I retorted coldly. Draining my glass, I continue, "And while we're at it, I see no urgency to relocate to the Capitol. The next Council meeting, regardless of your preference, will be in Nerkam." Peter’s frown deepens, mirroring the dark wine he sets aside.
"It's easier to run everything from Alryne." he counters. Bearon and Galeren pausing their own conversation, both intrigued by our exchange.
"This city was designed to preserve documents and relics deemed vital by the Heirs. It's the sole shadow on the map of our entire empire, which, incidentally, has flourished under southern rule by millenia." My patience for ceremonial pleasantries and feigned interest in Edgar's youngest son waned. I’ve always negotiated with his father, prefering to delegate such matters to my Council if I have the choice. So, why do I have to go through this? We’ll meet, we'll smile and we'll go our separate ways at the end of the night. "Don’t tempt me, Allaway."
The din in the hall crescendoed, each cluster of guests trying to shout over others with their boisterous conversations, and bursts of laughter. Toasts were made, cutlery clinged against the plates, and as time marched on, the savoury spread meats gave way to an array of confections. Too bad I'm not interested. My wine glass, once a comforting companion, now stood neglected, my appetite having deserted me.
The tables now boasted a vibrant display of desserts: cupcakes bursting with dark red fruits, towering pyramids of chocolate truffles, and bowls of creamy pudding that captivated the guests. Amidst the fervent discussions of the Council members beside me, concerning the soaring cost of imported blue steel. It was my chance for a secret escape. I need a moment of peace, away from the others.
That is, not counting my Guard.
However, my path to freedom was blocked by a blond mountain of muscle. Marcus with his golden mane cascading in a braid down back, materialised before me, a cupcake clutched in each hand. His attire was uncharacteristically buttoned all the way up, suggesting he wasn't alone. "Where and why?" he inquired, his gaze sweeping the hall.
"I need some air, I'll be right back."
"Have you talked to him already?" his blue eyes darted around the room. He probably couldn't find what he was looking for, because he shrugged and stuffed one of the cupcakes in his mouth.
"I doubt he's arrived. Ed's absence is telling." I mused, realising it had been quite some time since I saw Edgar. "Shouldn't you be tending to your wife while you're both here?"
"I should, but duty calls." he replied, a hint of jest in his voice.
"Then perhaps it's time you learned to say no to him."
"And perhaps you should finally learn to listen to him." he retorted with a chuckle, stepping aside.
Outside, the waning sunlight bathed a vine-covered gazebo in a soft glow. Alryne, perched on a northern frontier, was hardly an ideal place to grow wine. Yet, the lush foliage and nascent clusters of grape spoke of meticulous care. Someone here had a green thumb or a secret amid the chilly weather.
The chill of the night air caressed my cheeks, tempting me to let the wind unravel my intricately pinned hair. But before I could pull out all the pins that hold complicated hairstyles together, I'd have to go back inside. With a sigh, I plucked a leaf from the vine twining around the gazebo's pillar, pondering if magic had touched its vibrant green hue. Dismining the thought moments later, I acknowledged the gardener's tender care and love.
My heart skipped a beat as I turned to find a young man standing nearby, his presence unexpected. The leaf slipped from my fingers. "I asked if you’d prefer to be alone." he said, his deep chuckle disarming, hands raised in a gesture of peace. His attire, a dark blue coat adorned with prominent triangles was traditional, yet unexpectedly stylish. "Your Majesty." he greeted, his smile holding a mischievous tilt.
“Majesty?” I echoed, bemused by the formality. "No, I," a sudden gust of wind teased a lock of hair free. "I just needed some fresh air." I twirled it around my finger, contemplating how to secure it without taking the crown off.
He approached, his height forcing me to crane my neck to meet his gaze. His eyes captivated me. I know a lot of people with green eyes, but there's always another shade of colour, grey or brown, mixed in. His are just green, piercing green. Like the first leaves of spring. Quite incredible and absolutely unique. "Your Crown." I'm trying to find a trace of a different accent.
I stopped fiddling with the strand on my finger and let it slide. I carefully removed the crown, inspecting it for a moment before handing it to him. The golden circlet, adorned with seven triangles and runic engravings, was a testament to our heritage - no jewels needed for its significance.
With thanks, I placed the crown in his set hand. I can now devote my attention to fixing my hair, while he turns the crown in hand, examining the runes with curiosity. I doubted he could decipher them; such knowledge was rare, even among people like us.
And I’m guessing I’m right, by the way he frowns at carved symbols.
"All done." I announced after skilfully reweaving the loose hair. I watched as he rotated the crown, aligning the largest triangle to the front before gently placing it back upon my head. He stepped back, his expression one of playful scrutiny.
"I half-expected it to glow, Your Majesty." he teased, his eyes sparkling with mirth. He clearly didn't hold my title in solemn regard. "Or would ‘Heiress’ be more fitting?"
"Neither, I prefer my name." I replied, my smile mirroring his. The crown had indeed shone at my coronation, a spellbinding moment that affirmed my right to the throne and rekindled hope among the people -a stark contrast to the reign of regents, set by Jonathan after he lost his desire to rule. As common folk watched regent after regent govern the empire without a hint of magic on their side, their perspective changed. The very heart of the empire stopped, until it was set to motion again a couple months back. "I hadn't realised you attended the ceremony." I mused, though I shouldn't be surprised. His presence, along with his brothers and other wolves, was to be expected.
"It didn't feel like I had a choice."
"Yeah, tell me about it." we both laughed. The sun was almost down, and the wind was more violent. "I wasn't sure I'd recognize you among all those people, Steven. It's amazing how much you resemble Edgar."
He glanced at his attire and then mine. My skirt with its daring slit, revealing much of my thighs, while hundreds of gold leaves adorned the red corset. Gold chains draped over my dècolletage and shoulders, and sheer fabric formed glowing sleeves over my hands. His repeated smiles told me he approved of the sight, and I couldn't help but admire his broad shoulders in return. "I didn't realise you knew father so intimately, though it makes sense. Given your collaboration."
"It's more than that. I know him more than I'd prefer." Steven -though he's not Edgar's only son, and his brothers look like him to a certain point- has inherited more than he probably realises. His dishevelled hair, sharp features, straight slightly curved nose -though his eyes, set him apart. What's more, he acts the same way his father does. He thinks about every move, chooses his words carefully, and is certainly not lacking in self-confidence. I wonder if it's because he's the youngest and Edgar has already wasted all his mistakes on the others.
"We'd better get back inside." I followed his gaze, catching Marcus’s eye through the glass door, chewing again. Steven acknowledged his presence with a wave. "Your guard?"
"More like a nanny." I quipped.
Marcus returned the gesture with a grin and swung the door open. I stepped through first, Steven close behind. Marcus scrutinised us, his expression teasing. "This doesn’t count as a formal introduction." he chuckled. "Jonathan's here and he wants to talk to you. Both of you."
"Why?" Steven beat me to his question.
"Didn’t ask, but I crossed paths with Edgar en route to meet him." Marcus replied, his grin widening at the mention of Edgar's apparent irritation. "He looked pretty pissed."
"Yeah, like that’s new." I remarked dryly, prompting another round of laughter from Marcus as we proceeded down the corridor. My thoughts wandered to the Duke of Parlasse’s unexpected presence. His attendance at a gathering like this is highly unlikely, he is usually too busy sitting by the fireplace at home, cigar in hand. What urgent matter could compel him to seek out Edgar here, of all places?
The door Marcus chose was indistinct from the rest. Except two voices can be heard clearly from behind these particular ones. The heated exchange was uncharacteristic for Jonathan. "Family, right?" Steven assessed with a wry smile before pushing the door open.
Both voices immediately fell silent as we entered the smoke-filled room. The dim lighting swallowed the dark walls, casting shadows that obscured Jonathan's annoyed countenance and Edgar's likely scowl as he hunched over the table.
Steven is the spitting image of his father, a mirror in flesh and blood, while I stand as Jonathan's contrast. We share dark brown, straight hair and even darker eyes, but that's where our similarities end. I lack his height and where his face is often etched with boredom, mine is quick to emotion, at least when we're alone. His features are sharp, his lips thin, and he dresses in a monochrome palette, favouring simple elegance over flamboyance. The only adornments he bears are a wedding ring, which seems more a symbol than a sentiment, and a signet ring etched with the initials J, C, and H.
Jon rose to welcome us, striding to the table to pour whisky from a crystal decanter into two glasses. He handed one to Steven, then pressed the other into my hand, finishing it with a warm embrace. "Astonishing dress, Anie," he remarked, releasing me to take in the full effect. "with the crown and all, you look so-,"
"Mature?" I cut in.
He nodded, a softness in his eyes that swiftly retreated behind his usual mask of annoyance. "That's one way to put it."
"Why are we here?" Steven eyed the amber liquid with suspicion before he tried it. I can't tell from his expression if he likes it or not. Every drink in Athran is so annoyingly sweet.
Edgar, who seemed to have aged years in mere moments, turned to us with a gravity that belied his youthful appearance. "Fate has seen you both in one of her visions. The world shifts around us, people change one by one, and it's time for me to relinquish the crown." he declared, a solemn weight to his word. Steven cough spluttered beside me.
"What?" he gasped.
"Since when do you heed fate's call?" I challenged Edgar, though the answer is clear.
"Since it's about my family." he said, a catch-all justification for his actions.
I paused, considering the implications. ""Have you spoken to Fate herself?" He nodded. "And she showed you this vision?" Another nod. "Then you know you can't believe everything she shows you."
"I am not blind to scepticism, but war looms over us, undeniably."
"War is a constant shadow.” I countered. “People clash, mages battle the darkness, and even we find ourselves at odds. Not long ago, you were under Jonathan's banner, and now you sit with a crown and a Senate seat. War is an ever present threat, hence our formidable armies and the power vested in us."
"This war is unlike any other. Cities have fallen to unknown assailants, creatures of undeath." Edgar insisted, his voice laced with a knowledge he kept hidden. “And if I'm right, my crown must pass to one who can unite our divided lands.”
He turned to Steven who had been silent, absorbing the weight of his father's decree. "I've decided. You can bridge the gap between North and South.”
The absurdity of the situation was overwhelming. I glanced at Jonathan, whose silent shake of his head echoed my thoughts. It was happening, the unthinkable. Words failed me, replaced by a silent fury that clenched my fists and stole my breath, slammed the door behind me as I left.
Marcus lounged in the hallway, engrossed in a book with a black cover -its origin a mystery, but at least it kept him from his habitual snacking. His gaze lifted from the pages, and a carefree smile played across his lips, his blue eyes meeting mine with a slow, deliberate arch of his brows. The urge to lash out at something, anything, was quelled by his infectious grin. "He's finally lost it." I muttered, the laughter bubbling up despite the turmoil within.
I lingered in the hall outside the auditorium, not ready to rejoin the ballroom’s spectacle. The notion of fate had always struck me as a fool's comfort, and even if Fate herself glimpsed fragments of what's to come, the future remained a river’s flow -unpredictable and ever-changing. Edgar's sudden reliance on such prophecies only deepened my suspicion that he was withholding the truth. If he was so eager to abdicate, it wasn't the war that drove him.
Back inside, the atmosphere had shifted. Guests cling to their tables, their focus drifting from feasting to libations. The more audacious souls ventured towards the band, surrendering to the dance as the lively tune filled the hall. My feet itched to join them, to lose myself in the rhythm and forget the absurdity of Edgar's declaration. After all, his reign was due to end -it was time for the crown to find a new bearer.
Why not his green-eyed son? The older ones might have rejected the mantle, but Steven had an allure that was hard to ignore. I find myself drawn to him after mere minutes in his company.
As the music mellowed, my desire to dance intensified. But first, I needed to get rid of the crown and the headache it brings. I traded the golden circlet for another drink, but before the glass touched my lips, a familiar voice halted me. "Let's dance." It wasn't a question or a command, but an invitation I couldn't refuse.
I handed the glass back to the young woman safeguarding my crown and turned to face him. His green eyes ensnared me, and a smile crept onto my lips as I placed my hand into his. He exudes a nervous excitement that was contagious.
Steven proved to be a remarkable dancer, one of those partners you never want to let go, even after the music fades. As he drew me closer, the scent of his cologne -a woody aroma I couldn't quite place- intoxicated me, making it impossible to focus on anything but depth of his gaze. "I was hoping we could talk," he said, his voice devoid of a northern accent. I thought Edgar wanted to raise him differently, properly, in Athran.
"Fate seems to favour you." I quipped, though the jest felt premature given the night's revelations.
His response caught me off guard. "I wouldn't have expected you to dismiss fate so easily."
"Why should I believe in such a thing?" I challenged, even as I allowed him to guide me across the dance floor. "Because I'm Hallies's descendant?"
"More because you're the prophesied Child of Light." he countered.
I scoffed lightly. "People have crafted a grandiose image of me, but I remain human as any." His eyebrows rose in surprise. "Fine, not entirely human, but still -fate holds no sway over me."
"I suppose I shouldn't defy Heiress’ will."
"And yet, I'm not the only force you should recon with." Replied, wondering if there was more to his than met the eye. "You don't have to take Edgar's crown just because he wants you to."
"Is that what you told my brother?" his question caught me off guard again.
"No," I replied, the surprise still fresh. "I told him not to trust Edgar."
"That's terrible advice." he assessed with a chuckle.
"Not for a king." I retorted, his laugh filled the space between us.
As we danced, Steven shared his unexpected vision of me. "I imagined you very differently -older, perhaps a bit dull." His grip tightened, and he lifted me in a graceful arc, our eyes locking as I descended. The stray lock of hair fell loose again.l, and he gently tucked it behind my ear, stroking my cheek as he did so, his touch sending involuntary shivers through my body. “And a lot less charming,” he added.
When the dance called for a partner change, Jonathan’s familiar hands found mine. "Do you think Edgar truly intends to abdicate?" ue inquired, his voice a mix of curiosity and concern.
"How should I know, Jon? He's your old friend, not mine." I quipped, unable to resist the sarcasm.
Jonathan’s reprimand was swift, yet affectionate. "I'd like to know what you think." he insisted.
I considered his question as we turned, catching a glimpse of Steven. "I believe Edgar is sincere. He's ageing, despite his efforts, and Steven…," My words trailed off as I noticed Steven’s discontent dance with a chubby blonde. "There's something unique about him, beyond those striking eyes you failed to mention."
"You like him." Jonathan observed, a soft laugh escaping him. I felt my cheeks warm at his words. "And for the record, he seems equally taken with you." he whispered.
As the dance continued, I spotted two Council members hastily exiting the hall. Only the baron remained, awaiting my father's permission to approach. I stopped, making a decision. "Please, wish him a goodnight for me." I requested giving Jonathan a peck on the cheek. "And try not to frown so much. It makes you look old, dad." Before he could respond, I slipped away into the crowd.
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