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The Fall of Charth: Prequel to The Golden Maiden
Chapter One
“Genny! Genny, wait up!”
Ignoring Valia’s pleas, I hiked up my skirts even higher, the smooth white fabric brushing just above my shins. I glanced down briefly over my shoulder, my dark pink eyes crinkling in laughter as I watched my friend climbing up the stairs after me. Her mismatched eyes, faithful to her Deering roots, glared up at me.
“Faster, Valia!” I shouted. “We’re almost at the top.”
I heard her grumble something under her breath, but as I met the curve of the stairs, I lost the low rumble of her complaints. My slippered feet landed harder on the marbled steps, and I kept myself going faster, faster.
My heart was beating erratically in my chest, the curve of the staircase getting sharper as it rose.
I knew I wasn’t supposed to be climbing to the peak of this tower. Mother has told me enough times, but what harm was there really in it? The dangerous and disobedient aspect of my little adventure was driving the adrenaline through my veins, adding to the sporadic beat of my heart.
Then, with the final few steps, I reached the final curve and came upon the rounded wooden door that would open out into the clear, Charthian sky. With a smile breaking across my face, my eager fingers closed around the brass handle. I turned my body slightly, pushing the fly away strands of my midnight sky hair that escaped my bun away from my face.
I opened my mouth to call out for Valia, who should’ve met up with my by now, when-
“Genevieve!”
I froze immediately, my grip on the handle tightening to the point of white knuckles.
Because of the curviness of the stairwell, it was hard to tell where my mother’s stern voice was coming from. Was she just around the bend or stomping up from the bottom?
“Young lady, if you don’t come back down this instant-“
“My lady!” Valia’s voice pierced through my mother’s, and I silently thanked the Guardians as she began to take the fall for me.
“Oh, Valia.” My mother’s voice faltered, obviously surprised at seeing the young Deering ambassador sneaking about the palace. “What are you doing, dear?”
“I got lost.” Valia replied shortly, and I could picture her perfectly with her blue and gray eyes blinking up innocently at my mother with her hands clasped behind her back.
“Oh, is that right?” My mother said after a pause, her voice dripping with skepticism.
“Mhm,” assured Valia, not fazed in the slightest. “I was just making my way back down…”
“Where’s my daughter?” Mother’s voice was sharp, and I imagined that Valia flinched at the sound because I sure did.
“Your Majesty? The princess is missing?” I forgot how much I loved her.
My mother sighed, and I could faintly hear the impatient rustling of skirts.
“Pardon me, Valia dear. I’m going to fetch my daughter, now.”
Valia began to say something to keep my mother distracted, but I was opening the door and outside before I caught her words.
The sharp wind ripped at my face, tearing my hair free and pulling aggressively at my dress. I squinted my eyes against the wind, carefully stepping out into the midmorning sun. With one hand raised over my eyes, I moved to towards the balcony’s edge, my free hand wrapping securely around it.
And with a sharp intake of breath, I looked out over my city, my kingdom.
The tall, spindly towers of my castle easily towered over the others of the kingdom, but they were all equally beautiful, majestic even. The sun was shining through those made of glass, casting radiant beams of light throughout the streets. It gave Charth this brilliant glow, like the city itself was alive.
I’m acting as if I’ve never seen my kingdom before, but I’ve never seen it like this. I could never imagine why my parents branded this specific tower off limits.
And that’s when I felt tendrils of gusts warp around my forearms, pulling me forcefully into the air. I squealed as I was flung out over the balcony, dangling high over the streets by this unseen force. The wind blew into my slightly-pointed ears, whispers being carried by it. I began to panic, fear rising in my constricted throat as I struggled with my invisible bonds.
“Gene…” I caught the faint snippet of the voice, echoing in my head. “Genevieve…”
I went still, bobbing like a spirit in the empty air. My heart was pounding with pure terror, but the voice whistling through my ears was suddenly warm, comforting even. Closing my eyes, I let the voice soothe me as a wave of peace washed over me.
The voice was gentle and clear, but I could only her a few words before it decrescendoed away, coming back with a new statement totally unconnected to the previous one. The breeze was now a caress, running over my face and through my skirts softly.
“You will…” The voice was saying, abruptly more firm, urgent. “…death…must prepare…death death death…”
Death? What was it talking about? Prepare for what?
“Genevieve!”
My eyes flew open, this voice very familiar and laced with panic. My mother was at the balcony’s edge, her hands outstretched to me helplessly. Her pale violet eyes were watering, from the wind or seeing me in this state, I wasn’t sure. Her dark, long hair, the same shade as mine, was flying free of its plaid, pieces whipping her face. But she took no heed of it, her attention all focused on me.
That was certainly a first.
It’s not that my mother was bad at being motherly or anything. On the contrary, she was very good at being a mother and raising an adventurously-bipolar elf like me. When she was available, that is.
In the Charthian Kingdom, the queen is considered the higher, more respected and important of the two rulers. Mother was always busy with one thing or another, whether it be having an audience with a complaining citizen or a meeting with the Arthrinian Consulate. She was occupied most of the week, and when she had time for me, she was usually too tired to do anything other than to sit by the fireplace and practice knitting.
By my tenth year, I was an expert at knitting everything and anything. I remember making Mother a pair of gloves. It took me a couple of days, but she was so happy when I gave them to her. Even if one glove was smaller than the other. Her smile was the most genuine thing I’d ever seen.
“Genevieve, dear heart, reach for me!”
I was pulled back to the present, three years after I saw my mother’s beautiful reaction to my gift. She was still looking as striking as ever with the wind tearing at her savagely. Ignoring her cries, I looked behind her to see Valia braced in the doorway. Her dark brown-root hair was hanging free as usual, but the wind jerked it around and made it look alive. She stared up at me with her blue-gray eyes, silently screaming what my mother was saying aloud.
“Sweetheart, please!” Mother’s voice was ragged, choked with emotion as she leaned farther out.
Her face contorted, then, with anger. She batted at the wind. She shouted something bitterly, but the wind blocked my ears. However, I could make out the first few words by reading Mother’s cherry-red lips.
“Release her, Dyven-!” She silently cried.
Dyven? Who-?
The sensation of falling took a hold of me, and I finally found my voice again. I screamed, the wind that was holding me like a child now suddenly gone, dropping me unceremoniously from their arms.
I heard my mother shout out my name, and Valia’s high-pitched cry harmonized with it. And then falling, falling, the terrible feeling of my stomach dropping faster than the rest of me. The breath was snatched out of my lungs, and-
“Oof!”
“Genny!”
I felt arms, real flesh and bone arms, tight around my small frame. I opened my eyes, not even realized that I had closed them.
My mother’s face was hovering anxiously over mine, her flawless face wrinkled in worry. Just over her shoulder, I saw an equally worried Valia.
“Guardian’s above...” Valia breathed.
At Valia’s words, my mother’s violet eyes flashed, replacing the worry with anger. She righted herself, pulling me upright along with her.
“Genevieve Roslyn Berondaughter,” Oh, poo. She used my full name; I’m in for it. “There was a good reason as to why we forbade you to come up here-“
“Who’s Dyven?” I interrupted, not completely sure why I asked that specific question while there were plenty others bouncing around in my head.
Mother paused, furrowing her brow but a second before composing herself. Then, out of the blue, she drew her hand back, and it was cracking across my cheek before I knew it. It was sharp, and her ring bit into my cheek, drawing a trickle of blood.
I heard Valia gasp, and I wanted to gasp myself as I stared up in disbelief at my mother. My cheek was stinging, and I felt a drop of blood fall from my face. Glancing down briefly, I saw it soak into the white of my dress, the stain blooming like a red flower.
Incredulous, I looked back up at my mother. Never, never, never had she struck me before. And I’ve done much worse than climb a forbidden tower possessed by some wind spirit possibly named Dyven and almost got killed by it...
Okay, so maybe I haven’t done worse.
I bored into my mother’s eyes, hoping to find even a glimmer of guilt at her very unexpected actions. Indeed, I saw a flicker of something as her eyes darted to my wounded cheek, but it was gone before I could deceiver it.
“Mother,” I finally whispered, surprising myself as my voice cracked.
“You deserved that, young lady.” Mother snapped quickly, as if trying to convince herself that it was justified. “You know better than to interrupt me, and you definitely know better than to come up here! How many times have your father and I told you that this place is completely off limits? Did you think this was a joke of some sort?”
When I didn’t answer, Mother slapped lightly at my unwounded cheek. I glared up at her, part of me wanting to goad her on to hit me again, and the other...
“No.” I answered stiffly. “I was merely curious.”
“Your curiosity nearly killed you.” She hissed, but I could hear the slight strain of anxiety hidden beneath. “We warned you, Genevieve, and you almost put Valia in danger with your ‘curiosity’!”
At the mention of Valia’s name, I glanced behind Mother to see her hovering by the doorway. Her head was down and her arms behind her back. She looked up at me, but quickly ducked her eyes back down when she caught my stare.
The thought of my best, closest friend being either throttled to death by the wind or dropped from this threatening height burned my eyes. Valia raised her eyes back to mine, and I could feel my tears running along the curves of my cheeks. Mother looked between us, a slight air of smugness in her expression.
“Indeed.” Was all she said, putting a soft hand on my bleeding cheek, wiping the blood and tears gently away.
I held back my flinch at her touch. Whatever anger my mother had was now cleansed out of her system, and I didn’t want to trigger it again.
“My little blossom, I’m sorry.” My mother murmured, the regret now plain as day in her eyes. “But...you left me no choice.”
“I understand.” I assured softly, letting her pull me into an embrace.
“I love you, dear.”
“I love you, too.” I said back when a thought crossed my mind. “But, Mother, who is Dyven?”
I felt Mother stiffen in my arms, but when he pulled away, a smile was on her face. Ignoring my question a second time, my mother gathered up my hair and expertly pulled it back into a bun resting on the top of my head.
“All in good time, sweet.” She finally said, gently tugging at the strands by my temples to let them hang freely on either side of my face. “I’m afraid I should’ve just told you everything sooner...”
“Mother?” I raised a brow at her, her violet eyes suddenly far away as she looked over my head, out towards the sky.
“Your Majesties!”
Mother and I turned sharply towards the door where a palace sentry was holding the doorframe, panting with obvious exhaustion. His bright orange eyes looked between us with both relief and apparent confusion at my mother’s disheveled hair and my wrinkled, slightly bloodied dress. His gaze paused on my face briefly.
Quickly, I wiped at my face as inconspicuously as possible. With a glance at my shaky hands, I sighed upon seeing them come away clean, albeit a bit wet. I must’ve looked a tad red still, and I supposed that the cut was still fresh looking.
“Is my husband fretting about for us?” My mother inquired, the calm, passive face of queenliness back as she smiled kindly at him.
“Yes, he is, my lady.” He confirmed, catching enough breath to stand at attention. “He requests both your and the princess’s presence in the main foyer. The festival is waiting to begin.”
Mother’s eyes widened, and she quickly gathered her skirts with one hand and my wrist with the other.
“Oh, dear.” She muttered, leading me towards the door. “There’s no reason for the festivities to wait for us. Come along, dears.”
Valia, who was waiting silently near the door, jerked upright, her eyes bright with unshed tears. It was a strange thing to think of strong, sometimes stuck up Valia crying. With a sad smile I reached out and grabbed her hand as Mother swept us by. She returned a soft grin, her thin fingers squeezing mine.
We all trekked down the stairs carefully, Mother politely taking my free, crumpled skirts into consideration. She led the way with me behind, then Valia, and then the patient sentry brought up the rear.
It took far longer to go down then go up, and when we finally reached the bottom, the sentry took the lead. Mother took a few steps after him, but I pulled her short. She looked back at me with puzzlement.
“Sweetheart, what-?”
“Your hair is a mess, Mother.” I told her, looking her frazzled plaid up and down with a wrinkled nose.
Mother blinked, bringing her free hand to pat at her hair almost unconsciously. Her face immediately paled with embarrassment upon feeling her tangled midnight mane.
The sentry had stopped down the corridor, but Mother waved him on. He left obediently without a word. I wonder if Mother sometimes wished I was that obedient.
The second he was out of sight, Mother dropped my hand and began working at her hair with her nimble fingers. But even this mess wasn’t going to be tamed with just one set of hands.
Releasing Valia’s hand, I dug my hands into my mother’s mane, raking my small fingers through as gently as possible. Luckily, like mine, Mother’s hair was on the thin side, so it wasn’t long before all the tangles were out.
“Kneel down, Mother. Valia and I will rebraid it for you.” I suggested, gesturing for Valia to step forward.
Mother smiled warmly at me, murmuring a thank you as she spread her skirts gingerly and knelt down. I stood behind her, Valia on the other, and we split my mother’s waist length hair into three even sections. We then passed the three tendrils between each other, creating a tight braid. I tied it off, plucking a flower from a nearby vase to weave into her hair, just above her left ear.
“Beautiful.” Valia commented, admiring our handiwork.
“I’ll take your word for it.” Mother said, her fingers petting the full, pale yellow petals of the solflower. “You father is a patient man, Genevieve, but only for so long. Valia, dear, will you be joining us?”
“I’m afraid not, my lady.” Valia answered, smoothing down the front of her flower and branch patterned tunic. “My lord, King Wilhelm, is expecting me to join him. My apologies.”
“Not needed, dear.” Mother assured with a smile. “Do enjoy yourselves, and let Wilhelm and Maura know I say ‘hello’!”
“Of course, my lady.” Valia gave a curtsy to my mother, and nearly did so to me when I hugged her instead.
She gratefully returned the embrace, thousands of words transpiring through our silent moment.
Our friendship had always been one of few words, but neither of use ever had much to say, so it worked out in the end.
Because of Charth and Deering’s close familiarity, Valia and I were pretty much friends from birth. Or, rather, from my birth seeing as Valia is two years my senior. The Queen of the Forest, as some call her, and my mother were close friends, and the queen made sure she was there for my mother’s first birth, for me. I’m still not exactly sure why Valia came along, but the queen was convinced that we’d become friends.
And so we have.
When Valia became of age at thirteen, she was made an ambassador to Deering, but she never really did much except play with me when she was obligated to visit. In fact, I don’t really know why Valia was made an ambassador. She doesn’t do anything. I’ve asked her about it plenty of times, but she always shrugs it off. Maybe she doesn’t even know why, I don’t know. I’ve learned to stop asking.
Regardless, we’ve become as close as can be, even if I only see her a few times every couple of months. I always dread the day when she leaves, and Valia told me that the Deering Consulate was departing the day after the Festival of Creation kicks off.
Which is tomorrow.
Now, I clutched harder around Valia’s neck. I wasn’t sure if I’d be seeing her once the festivities were through. She responded the same way.
“What just happened?” She whispered in a rush.
“I don’t know.” I replied. “I’m okay, though. You best get going.”
She hesitated, but Valia nodded in consent. Valia pulled away, gave another polite curtsy to Mother, and then disappeared down the corridor.
With a sniff, I raised my head up to my mother. She put a comforting arm around my shoulders, and bent down to kiss my forehead. I wrapped my arms around her slender waist, burying my face in her stomach.
“You will see her soon enough, dear heart.” Mother murmured. “You always do.” She kissed the top of my head, smoothing down my hair. “Come along, now. We don’t want to keep the whole kingdom waiting, now do we?”
“But we already have.” I muttered into her bodice.
“Quite.” Mother laughed, shaking me along with her.
She pulled away, holding me at arm’s length. Her violet eyes roved over my face, pausing on my cheek. She frowned at her doing, gently caressing my face with her hand.
“It shouldn’t scar.” Mother whispered, as if she was speaking only to herself. “But still...” Her eyes watered slightly, and all I wanted to do was go back in time to stop myself from causing all this trouble. “I’ll always know what I had done.”
“Mother, it was my fault-“ I began desperately, unconsciously covering my cheek.
“Pleara, dearest!” A voice called down the hall, and Father appeared at the doorway where Valia and the sentry vanished. “And you found Genny, too!”
Father smiled at me, his head titled to one side in inquiry. His mahogany red eyes darted between us as he approached. Mother smiled back at him, that twinkle in her eyes that she only saved for him. When he reached us, Father swept my mother into his arms and gave her a deep kiss. I kept my face down, feeling like I was interrupting an intimate moment, like I always do when they kiss.
I was always told by everyone about how in love my parents were. They say it was love at first sight. Even I could’ve told them that. Whenever they look at each other, it’s like they had fallen in love all over again. I wonder how it is that I’m their only child, in all honesty. And no, I’m not some ignorant child. I know where babies come from, even if the whole concept itself is somewhat foreign to me. And gross.
Anyway, my mother was the princess, the heir to the Charthian throne. My father was the son of wealthy and famous scientists that have been close friends to the royal family for centuries. They said it was only a matter of time before one of them married a royal.
When my mother was eighteen, it was time for her to get married. She immediately chose my father Beron, the man she had been in love with since they first met as children. Childhood sweethearts, everyone says. They still are, I assure them.
Once they disentangled themselves, Father picked me up and kissed my nose.
“And where were you hiding, little one, hmm?” He asked, his expression playful but his voice serious.
I opened my mouth, a lie already forming in my mouth when my mother stepped in.
“Valia and her were playing hide and seek.” Mother slid an arm around Father’s waist as she lied straight to his face. So that’s where I got it from. “Time got away from them both.”
“Ah, yes.” Father said, the raise of his eyebrows telling us he wasn’t completely buying it. “Well, come along, then. Our people wait.”
He put me back on the ground, swatting me on the bum to hurry me along. I jumped at his touch, hurrying forward to hear Father’s laughter behind me. I turned my head back to see my father looking gravely at my mother as he finished his laugh. She merely shook her head, and I caught her say something about ‘later’.
Blanching, I turned back and rushed away form them, down a flight of stairs to the main foyer. The last thing I wanted was for Father to find out about my deception. If Mother went as so far as to striking me, Guardians know what my father would do.
“My lady?” A soft voice interrupted my fretting, and I paused on the final few steps to see a maid a couple steps behind me. She was pointing to herself, her finger just above her collarbone. “Did you eat some tarts to get that stain? You must change.”
Tarts? What was she-?
Oh. The stain of my blood.
I looked down, and it wasn’t so bad. Besides, I didn’t have the time to change. I licked my finger quickly, bringing it down to rub at the stain in vain.
“Princess, no!” The maid cried, jumping forward to snatch my hand. “That’ll make it worse.”
“Well, I don’t really have the time to change completely.” I snapped, sliding my hand free. “Fetch me a wrap. My yellow one, please.”
Keeping her emotions in check like a good maid, she only bobbed her head and scurried back up the stairs to my rooms. She passed my parents on the way, bowing her head in respect without stopping. They didn’t even acknowledge her, too busy in conversation with their heads close together.
When Mother noticed my gaze, she flashed a fake smile of assurance. She patted Father’s hand that rested on her arm, kissing his cheek and lingering there to whisper something to him. He nodded and kissed her lightly on the lips.
“Enough dilly-dallying!” Father announced, practically dragging Mother down the steps and towing me behind once they reached me.
“Wait, Papa.” I said just as the maid appeared at the top of the steps. “I need my wrap.”
“Wrap?” He stopped just in front of the large, closed doors, his brow furrowed. “Genny, dear, you do realize it’s the middle of summerseason, right?”
Mother’s eyes landed on my dried, small bloodstain with a look of understanding. She quickly came to my rescue for about the fourth time that day.
“Sweet, if Genevieve is cold...” She started.
“Alright, alright.” Father spread his free hand in surrender, shaking his shaggy head of fine, white (not because of age, he makes sure that everyone knows; it runs in the family) hair. “Women. Guardians know I’ll never understand them.”
“You know enough.” Mother assured, kissing him again to prove her point.
I stuck out my tongue, making an ‘ick’ noise as the maid handed me my wrap. She blinked at my, her face flushing.
“Did I grab the wrong one, my lady?” She asked carefully, ready to dash away and get a new one.
“Oh, goodness, no!” I snatched the wrap from her, a blush creeping across my face as my parents chuckled at me. “It’s perfect, thank you muchly, Mineara.”
The maid, whose name I had finally managed to remember, gave a soft grin. She bowed her head at me, and then curtsied at my parents. They responded in turn, Mother dipping into a seamless curtsy and Father bowing regally at the waist. Mineara blushed again, hurrying away all fluster-like at the show of respect.
We always treated our servants with the respect they deserve. I know most by name, and I was raised to think of them more as extended family rather than servants. The relatively new help wasn’t used to this different behavior, as Mineara clearly presented.
As I carefully placed the warp covertly over the stain, I made a note to myself to apologize to Mineara of my snippiness. She truly deserved better.
I turned inconspicuously toward Mother, who gave a conspiratal wink and nodded, telling me that the stain was hidden.
“Well, if we’re quite finished with everything...” Father said exhaustingly, eyeing me with a smirk. “Unless there’s something else you need, lovely?”
In reply, I gave Father my biggest smile and pulled at the main doors, where right beyond them, the Festival of Creation was waiting oh-so patiently for us all morning.

Description
The Fall of Charth: Prequel to The Golden Maiden
Chapter One
“Genny! Genny, wait up!”
Ignoring Valia’s pleas, I hiked up my skirts even higher, the smooth white fabric brushing just above my shins. I glanced down briefly over my shoulder, my dark pink eyes crinkling in laughter as I watched my friend climbing up the stairs after me. Her mismatched eyes, faithful to her Deering roots, glared up at me.
“Faster, Valia!” I shouted. “We’re almost at the top.”
I heard her grumble something under her breath, but as I met the curve of the stairs, I lost the low rumble of her complaints. My slippered feet landed harder on the marbled steps, and I kept myself going faster, faster.
My heart was beating erratically in my chest, the curve of the staircase getting sharper as it rose.
I knew I wasn’t supposed to be climbing to the peak of this tower. Mother has told me enough times, but what harm was there really in it? The dangerous and disobedient aspect of my little adventure was driving the adrenaline through my veins, adding to the sporadic beat of my heart.
Then, with the final few steps, I reached the final curve and came upon the rounded wooden door that would open out into the clear, Charthian sky. With a smile breaking across my face, my eager fingers closed around the brass handle. I turned my body slightly, pushing the fly away strands of my midnight sky hair that escaped my bun away from my face.
I opened my mouth to call out for Valia, who should’ve met up with my by now, when-
“Genevieve!”
I froze immediately, my grip on the handle tightening to the point of white knuckles.
Because of the curviness of the stairwell, it was hard to tell where my mother’s stern voice was coming from. Was she just around the bend or stomping up from the bottom?
“Young lady, if you don’t come back down this instant-“
“My lady!” Valia’s voice pierced through my mother’s, and I silently thanked the Guardians as she began to take the fall for me.
“Oh, Valia.” My mother’s voice faltered, obviously surprised at seeing the young Deering ambassador sneaking about the palace. “What are you doing, dear?”
“I got lost.” Valia replied shortly, and I could picture her perfectly with her blue and gray eyes blinking up innocently at my mother with her hands clasped behind her back.
“Oh, is that right?” My mother said after a pause, her voice dripping with skepticism.
“Mhm,” assured Valia, not fazed in the slightest. “I was just making my way back down…”
“Where’s my daughter?” Mother’s voice was sharp, and I imagined that Valia flinched at the sound because I sure did.
“Your Majesty? The princess is missing?” I forgot how much I loved her.
My mother sighed, and I could faintly hear the impatient rustling of skirts.
“Pardon me, Valia dear. I’m going to fetch my daughter, now.”
Valia began to say something to keep my mother distracted, but I was opening the door and outside before I caught her words.
The sharp wind ripped at my face, tearing my hair free and pulling aggressively at my dress. I squinted my eyes against the wind, carefully stepping out into the midmorning sun. With one hand raised over my eyes, I moved to towards the balcony’s edge, my free hand wrapping securely around it.
And with a sharp intake of breath, I looked out over my city, my kingdom.
The tall, spindly towers of my castle easily towered over the others of the kingdom, but they were all equally beautiful, majestic even. The sun was shining through those made of glass, casting radiant beams of light throughout the streets. It gave Charth this brilliant glow, like the city itself was alive.
I’m acting as if I’ve never seen my kingdom before, but I’ve never seen it like this. I could never imagine why my parents branded this specific tower off limits.
And that’s when I felt tendrils of gusts warp around my forearms, pulling me forcefully into the air. I squealed as I was flung out over the balcony, dangling high over the streets by this unseen force. The wind blew into my slightly-pointed ears, whispers being carried by it. I began to panic, fear rising in my constricted throat as I struggled with my invisible bonds.
“Gene…” I caught the faint snippet of the voice, echoing in my head. “Genevieve…”
I went still, bobbing like a spirit in the empty air. My heart was pounding with pure terror, but the voice whistling through my ears was suddenly warm, comforting even. Closing my eyes, I let the voice soothe me as a wave of peace washed over me.
The voice was gentle and clear, but I could only her a few words before it decrescendoed away, coming back with a new statement totally unconnected to the previous one. The breeze was now a caress, running over my face and through my skirts softly.
“You will…” The voice was saying, abruptly more firm, urgent. “…death…must prepare…death death death…”
Death? What was it talking about? Prepare for what?
“Genevieve!”
My eyes flew open, this voice very familiar and laced with panic. My mother was at the balcony’s edge, her hands outstretched to me helplessly. Her pale violet eyes were watering, from the wind or seeing me in this state, I wasn’t sure. Her dark, long hair, the same shade as mine, was flying free of its plaid, pieces whipping her face. But she took no heed of it, her attention all focused on me.
That was certainly a first.
It’s not that my mother was bad at being motherly or anything. On the contrary, she was very good at being a mother and raising an adventurously-bipolar elf like me. When she was available, that is.
In the Charthian Kingdom, the queen is considered the higher, more respected and important of the two rulers. Mother was always busy with one thing or another, whether it be having an audience with a complaining citizen or a meeting with the Arthrinian Consulate. She was occupied most of the week, and when she had time for me, she was usually too tired to do anything other than to sit by the fireplace and practice knitting.
By my tenth year, I was an expert at knitting everything and anything. I remember making Mother a pair of gloves. It took me a couple of days, but she was so happy when I gave them to her. Even if one glove was smaller than the other. Her smile was the most genuine thing I’d ever seen.
“Genevieve, dear heart, reach for me!”
I was pulled back to the present, three years after I saw my mother’s beautiful reaction to my gift. She was still looking as striking as ever with the wind tearing at her savagely. Ignoring her cries, I looked behind her to see Valia braced in the doorway. Her dark brown-root hair was hanging free as usual, but the wind jerked it around and made it look alive. She stared up at me with her blue-gray eyes, silently screaming what my mother was saying aloud.
“Sweetheart, please!” Mother’s voice was ragged, choked with emotion as she leaned farther out.
Her face contorted, then, with anger. She batted at the wind. She shouted something bitterly, but the wind blocked my ears. However, I could make out the first few words by reading Mother’s cherry-red lips.
“Release her, Dyven-!” She silently cried.
Dyven? Who-?
The sensation of falling took a hold of me, and I finally found my voice again. I screamed, the wind that was holding me like a child now suddenly gone, dropping me unceremoniously from their arms.
I heard my mother shout out my name, and Valia’s high-pitched cry harmonized with it. And then falling, falling, the terrible feeling of my stomach dropping faster than the rest of me. The breath was snatched out of my lungs, and-
“Oof!”
“Genny!”
I felt arms, real flesh and bone arms, tight around my small frame. I opened my eyes, not even realized that I had closed them.
My mother’s face was hovering anxiously over mine, her flawless face wrinkled in worry. Just over her shoulder, I saw an equally worried Valia.
“Guardian’s above...” Valia breathed.
At Valia’s words, my mother’s violet eyes flashed, replacing the worry with anger. She righted herself, pulling me upright along with her.
“Genevieve Roslyn Berondaughter,” Oh, poo. She used my full name; I’m in for it. “There was a good reason as to why we forbade you to come up here-“
“Who’s Dyven?” I interrupted, not completely sure why I asked that specific question while there were plenty others bouncing around in my head.
Mother paused, furrowing her brow but a second before composing herself. Then, out of the blue, she drew her hand back, and it was cracking across my cheek before I knew it. It was sharp, and her ring bit into my cheek, drawing a trickle of blood.
I heard Valia gasp, and I wanted to gasp myself as I stared up in disbelief at my mother. My cheek was stinging, and I felt a drop of blood fall from my face. Glancing down briefly, I saw it soak into the white of my dress, the stain blooming like a red flower.
Incredulous, I looked back up at my mother. Never, never, never had she struck me before. And I’ve done much worse than climb a forbidden tower possessed by some wind spirit possibly named Dyven and almost got killed by it...
Okay, so maybe I haven’t done worse.
I bored into my mother’s eyes, hoping to find even a glimmer of guilt at her very unexpected actions. Indeed, I saw a flicker of something as her eyes darted to my wounded cheek, but it was gone before I could deceiver it.
“Mother,” I finally whispered, surprising myself as my voice cracked.
“You deserved that, young lady.” Mother snapped quickly, as if trying to convince herself that it was justified. “You know better than to interrupt me, and you definitely know better than to come up here! How many times have your father and I told you that this place is completely off limits? Did you think this was a joke of some sort?”
When I didn’t answer, Mother slapped lightly at my unwounded cheek. I glared up at her, part of me wanting to goad her on to hit me again, and the other...
“No.” I answered stiffly. “I was merely curious.”
“Your curiosity nearly killed you.” She hissed, but I could hear the slight strain of anxiety hidden beneath. “We warned you, Genevieve, and you almost put Valia in danger with your ‘curiosity’!”
At the mention of Valia’s name, I glanced behind Mother to see her hovering by the doorway. Her head was down and her arms behind her back. She looked up at me, but quickly ducked her eyes back down when she caught my stare.
The thought of my best, closest friend being either throttled to death by the wind or dropped from this threatening height burned my eyes. Valia raised her eyes back to mine, and I could feel my tears running along the curves of my cheeks. Mother looked between us, a slight air of smugness in her expression.
“Indeed.” Was all she said, putting a soft hand on my bleeding cheek, wiping the blood and tears gently away.
I held back my flinch at her touch. Whatever anger my mother had was now cleansed out of her system, and I didn’t want to trigger it again.
“My little blossom, I’m sorry.” My mother murmured, the regret now plain as day in her eyes. “But...you left me no choice.”
“I understand.” I assured softly, letting her pull me into an embrace.
“I love you, dear.”
“I love you, too.” I said back when a thought crossed my mind. “But, Mother, who is Dyven?”
I felt Mother stiffen in my arms, but when he pulled away, a smile was on her face. Ignoring my question a second time, my mother gathered up my hair and expertly pulled it back into a bun resting on the top of my head.
“All in good time, sweet.” She finally said, gently tugging at the strands by my temples to let them hang freely on either side of my face. “I’m afraid I should’ve just told you everything sooner...”
“Mother?” I raised a brow at her, her violet eyes suddenly far away as she looked over my head, out towards the sky.
“Your Majesties!”
Mother and I turned sharply towards the door where a palace sentry was holding the doorframe, panting with obvious exhaustion. His bright orange eyes looked between us with both relief and apparent confusion at my mother’s disheveled hair and my wrinkled, slightly bloodied dress. His gaze paused on my face briefly.
Quickly, I wiped at my face as inconspicuously as possible. With a glance at my shaky hands, I sighed upon seeing them come away clean, albeit a bit wet. I must’ve looked a tad red still, and I supposed that the cut was still fresh looking.
“Is my husband fretting about for us?” My mother inquired, the calm, passive face of queenliness back as she smiled kindly at him.
“Yes, he is, my lady.” He confirmed, catching enough breath to stand at attention. “He requests both your and the princess’s presence in the main foyer. The festival is waiting to begin.”
Mother’s eyes widened, and she quickly gathered her skirts with one hand and my wrist with the other.
“Oh, dear.” She muttered, leading me towards the door. “There’s no reason for the festivities to wait for us. Come along, dears.”
Valia, who was waiting silently near the door, jerked upright, her eyes bright with unshed tears. It was a strange thing to think of strong, sometimes stuck up Valia crying. With a sad smile I reached out and grabbed her hand as Mother swept us by. She returned a soft grin, her thin fingers squeezing mine.
We all trekked down the stairs carefully, Mother politely taking my free, crumpled skirts into consideration. She led the way with me behind, then Valia, and then the patient sentry brought up the rear.
It took far longer to go down then go up, and when we finally reached the bottom, the sentry took the lead. Mother took a few steps after him, but I pulled her short. She looked back at me with puzzlement.
“Sweetheart, what-?”
“Your hair is a mess, Mother.” I told her, looking her frazzled plaid up and down with a wrinkled nose.
Mother blinked, bringing her free hand to pat at her hair almost unconsciously. Her face immediately paled with embarrassment upon feeling her tangled midnight mane.
The sentry had stopped down the corridor, but Mother waved him on. He left obediently without a word. I wonder if Mother sometimes wished I was that obedient.
The second he was out of sight, Mother dropped my hand and began working at her hair with her nimble fingers. But even this mess wasn’t going to be tamed with just one set of hands.
Releasing Valia’s hand, I dug my hands into my mother’s mane, raking my small fingers through as gently as possible. Luckily, like mine, Mother’s hair was on the thin side, so it wasn’t long before all the tangles were out.
“Kneel down, Mother. Valia and I will rebraid it for you.” I suggested, gesturing for Valia to step forward.
Mother smiled warmly at me, murmuring a thank you as she spread her skirts gingerly and knelt down. I stood behind her, Valia on the other, and we split my mother’s waist length hair into three even sections. We then passed the three tendrils between each other, creating a tight braid. I tied it off, plucking a flower from a nearby vase to weave into her hair, just above her left ear.
“Beautiful.” Valia commented, admiring our handiwork.
“I’ll take your word for it.” Mother said, her fingers petting the full, pale yellow petals of the solflower. “You father is a patient man, Genevieve, but only for so long. Valia, dear, will you be joining us?”
“I’m afraid not, my lady.” Valia answered, smoothing down the front of her flower and branch patterned tunic. “My lord, King Wilhelm, is expecting me to join him. My apologies.”
“Not needed, dear.” Mother assured with a smile. “Do enjoy yourselves, and let Wilhelm and Maura know I say ‘hello’!”
“Of course, my lady.” Valia gave a curtsy to my mother, and nearly did so to me when I hugged her instead.
She gratefully returned the embrace, thousands of words transpiring through our silent moment.
Our friendship had always been one of few words, but neither of use ever had much to say, so it worked out in the end.
Because of Charth and Deering’s close familiarity, Valia and I were pretty much friends from birth. Or, rather, from my birth seeing as Valia is two years my senior. The Queen of the Forest, as some call her, and my mother were close friends, and the queen made sure she was there for my mother’s first birth, for me. I’m still not exactly sure why Valia came along, but the queen was convinced that we’d become friends.
And so we have.
When Valia became of age at thirteen, she was made an ambassador to Deering, but she never really did much except play with me when she was obligated to visit. In fact, I don’t really know why Valia was made an ambassador. She doesn’t do anything. I’ve asked her about it plenty of times, but she always shrugs it off. Maybe she doesn’t even know why, I don’t know. I’ve learned to stop asking.
Regardless, we’ve become as close as can be, even if I only see her a few times every couple of months. I always dread the day when she leaves, and Valia told me that the Deering Consulate was departing the day after the Festival of Creation kicks off.
Which is tomorrow.
Now, I clutched harder around Valia’s neck. I wasn’t sure if I’d be seeing her once the festivities were through. She responded the same way.
“What just happened?” She whispered in a rush.
“I don’t know.” I replied. “I’m okay, though. You best get going.”
She hesitated, but Valia nodded in consent. Valia pulled away, gave another polite curtsy to Mother, and then disappeared down the corridor.
With a sniff, I raised my head up to my mother. She put a comforting arm around my shoulders, and bent down to kiss my forehead. I wrapped my arms around her slender waist, burying my face in her stomach.
“You will see her soon enough, dear heart.” Mother murmured. “You always do.” She kissed the top of my head, smoothing down my hair. “Come along, now. We don’t want to keep the whole kingdom waiting, now do we?”
“But we already have.” I muttered into her bodice.
“Quite.” Mother laughed, shaking me along with her.
She pulled away, holding me at arm’s length. Her violet eyes roved over my face, pausing on my cheek. She frowned at her doing, gently caressing my face with her hand.
“It shouldn’t scar.” Mother whispered, as if she was speaking only to herself. “But still...” Her eyes watered slightly, and all I wanted to do was go back in time to stop myself from causing all this trouble. “I’ll always know what I had done.”
“Mother, it was my fault-“ I began desperately, unconsciously covering my cheek.
“Pleara, dearest!” A voice called down the hall, and Father appeared at the doorway where Valia and the sentry vanished. “And you found Genny, too!”
Father smiled at me, his head titled to one side in inquiry. His mahogany red eyes darted between us as he approached. Mother smiled back at him, that twinkle in her eyes that she only saved for him. When he reached us, Father swept my mother into his arms and gave her a deep kiss. I kept my face down, feeling like I was interrupting an intimate moment, like I always do when they kiss.
I was always told by everyone about how in love my parents were. They say it was love at first sight. Even I could’ve told them that. Whenever they look at each other, it’s like they had fallen in love all over again. I wonder how it is that I’m their only child, in all honesty. And no, I’m not some ignorant child. I know where babies come from, even if the whole concept itself is somewhat foreign to me. And gross.
Anyway, my mother was the princess, the heir to the Charthian throne. My father was the son of wealthy and famous scientists that have been close friends to the royal family for centuries. They said it was only a matter of time before one of them married a royal.
When my mother was eighteen, it was time for her to get married. She immediately chose my father Beron, the man she had been in love with since they first met as children. Childhood sweethearts, everyone says. They still are, I assure them.
Once they disentangled themselves, Father picked me up and kissed my nose.
“And where were you hiding, little one, hmm?” He asked, his expression playful but his voice serious.
I opened my mouth, a lie already forming in my mouth when my mother stepped in.
“Valia and her were playing hide and seek.” Mother slid an arm around Father’s waist as she lied straight to his face. So that’s where I got it from. “Time got away from them both.”
“Ah, yes.” Father said, the raise of his eyebrows telling us he wasn’t completely buying it. “Well, come along, then. Our people wait.”
He put me back on the ground, swatting me on the bum to hurry me along. I jumped at his touch, hurrying forward to hear Father’s laughter behind me. I turned my head back to see my father looking gravely at my mother as he finished his laugh. She merely shook her head, and I caught her say something about ‘later’.
Blanching, I turned back and rushed away form them, down a flight of stairs to the main foyer. The last thing I wanted was for Father to find out about my deception. If Mother went as so far as to striking me, Guardians know what my father would do.
“My lady?” A soft voice interrupted my fretting, and I paused on the final few steps to see a maid a couple steps behind me. She was pointing to herself, her finger just above her collarbone. “Did you eat some tarts to get that stain? You must change.”
Tarts? What was she-?
Oh. The stain of my blood.
I looked down, and it wasn’t so bad. Besides, I didn’t have the time to change. I licked my finger quickly, bringing it down to rub at the stain in vain.
“Princess, no!” The maid cried, jumping forward to snatch my hand. “That’ll make it worse.”
“Well, I don’t really have the time to change completely.” I snapped, sliding my hand free. “Fetch me a wrap. My yellow one, please.”
Keeping her emotions in check like a good maid, she only bobbed her head and scurried back up the stairs to my rooms. She passed my parents on the way, bowing her head in respect without stopping. They didn’t even acknowledge her, too busy in conversation with their heads close together.
When Mother noticed my gaze, she flashed a fake smile of assurance. She patted Father’s hand that rested on her arm, kissing his cheek and lingering there to whisper something to him. He nodded and kissed her lightly on the lips.
“Enough dilly-dallying!” Father announced, practically dragging Mother down the steps and towing me behind once they reached me.
“Wait, Papa.” I said just as the maid appeared at the top of the steps. “I need my wrap.”
“Wrap?” He stopped just in front of the large, closed doors, his brow furrowed. “Genny, dear, you do realize it’s the middle of summerseason, right?”
Mother’s eyes landed on my dried, small bloodstain with a look of understanding. She quickly came to my rescue for about the fourth time that day.
“Sweet, if Genevieve is cold...” She started.
“Alright, alright.” Father spread his free hand in surrender, shaking his shaggy head of fine, white (not because of age, he makes sure that everyone knows; it runs in the family) hair. “Women. Guardians know I’ll never understand them.”
“You know enough.” Mother assured, kissing him again to prove her point.
I stuck out my tongue, making an ‘ick’ noise as the maid handed me my wrap. She blinked at my, her face flushing.
“Did I grab the wrong one, my lady?” She asked carefully, ready to dash away and get a new one.
“Oh, goodness, no!” I snatched the wrap from her, a blush creeping across my face as my parents chuckled at me. “It’s perfect, thank you muchly, Mineara.”
The maid, whose name I had finally managed to remember, gave a soft grin. She bowed her head at me, and then curtsied at my parents. They responded in turn, Mother dipping into a seamless curtsy and Father bowing regally at the waist. Mineara blushed again, hurrying away all fluster-like at the show of respect.
We always treated our servants with the respect they deserve. I know most by name, and I was raised to think of them more as extended family rather than servants. The relatively new help wasn’t used to this different behavior, as Mineara clearly presented.
As I carefully placed the warp covertly over the stain, I made a note to myself to apologize to Mineara of my snippiness. She truly deserved better.
I turned inconspicuously toward Mother, who gave a conspiratal wink and nodded, telling me that the stain was hidden.
“Well, if we’re quite finished with everything...” Father said exhaustingly, eyeing me with a smirk. “Unless there’s something else you need, lovely?”
In reply, I gave Father my biggest smile and pulled at the main doors, where right beyond them, the Festival of Creation was waiting oh-so patiently for us all morning.