original here. dated 2011-11-04
~
Raehani always had to be silent when she did this. The stone of the hallways intensified any noises, but her lessons had some benefit (even if they were nowhere near as useful as her sisters’). The soft soles of her dancing shoes made each step all the more silent, in comparison to the boots of the warrior pair coming down the hallway; away she hid, spinning and ducking into the shadows of one of the tapestries. A scene of a king from long ago—her sire’s grandsire if she remembered correctly—defeating the enemy armies of Kurzos long before it had become an empire. The threat passed, and she continued her trek, darting into shadows when other people were in sight, until she arrived at her destination.
“… As always, the First of Myrgeth is grateful for the gifts your Highness has sent, along with the continued increase in trade relationships…”
It wasn’t as if the meetings between the Myrgeth ambassador and her sire’s council wer particularly fascinating (and her older sister, Kenadia was there, too) but she wasn’t interested in that at all. From her position, he was a blue and red (always remember the red) figurine the size of her finger, but she was quite a ways up in the shadowy corner of the empty balcony and in truth he was nearly two hand-heights taller than her.
“… our Kingdom of Alzeida, in turn, is also grateful for the Nation’s offer of naval instruction for our army and the protection of the Nation’s fine fleet…”
She had no idea how her sister stayed awake during these, or sat so still or looked so attentive. Another reason, though not a new one, of why her lessons as the second princess (and third in line for the throne, though really it was unlikely both Alerick and Kenadia would fall before they had their own heirs and even then she had the bitter suspicion that Vaseika would become queen before she ever would despite the two years between them) would never be as worthwhile or challenging or, fortunately in this case, time-consuming
“… the First of Myrgeth…”
“… Kingdom of Alzeida…”
Her sisters probably would have found this foolish, or maybe even cowardly, but she wasn’t them and they weren’t her. And she was infatuated with a boy from Myrgeth. And she didn’t even know why. No, that was a lie, she knew why, but it was such a silly reason.
“… the matter of conflict between your kingdom and the southern Empire…”
“… fully appreciate aid from Myrgeth’s skilled navies…”
He had red hair. Not the same red as her hair, a little duller perhaps, but still red, nonetheless. She was curious. No one else in her family had red hair, and the few times she left the palace also had a distinct lack of redheads. In vain she wondered what it would be like to leave her country. Go to the Nation of Myrgeth, maybe, and perhaps she would find other people with red hair where she would not be so different. So isolated.
She had always thought her hair was red because of her powers, maybe her familiars had left a visible mark on her or some other such claim. But when the Myrgeth ambassador’s entourage had expanded, including a young scholar working as a scribe, she saw him. And his hair. And maybe her hair wasn’t as mystical as she thought. But certainly more mysterious.
Or perhaps scandalous. But even though the evidence seemed to imply her mother’s (may the spirits keep her) indiscretion, no one actually believed it. Queen Zarina had been too sweet, too pure, too virtuous, too perfect. Not at all like the red-headed princess, rash and reckless and dangerous and uncontrollable. There was a reason why she couldn’t leave the palace often. Her familiars sealed away, the glittering gleaming dragons writhing around their prisons, looking for any way to escape. She understood completely.