The road to Gelt led through some of the most war-torn and barren landscapes which the kingdom of Vezda had to offer. The countryside surrounding Vezda's largest northern town had seen heavy fighting over the past few decades, leaving little besides scorched earth and ruins.
With only three days of the original thirty remaining before Talia became a prisoner of the Empire, the small band of travellers was forced to travel at breakneck speed with very little rest. The pace of the tour and the bleakness of their surroundings as well as the nature of the mission itself, had taken its toll on the group.
Though he spoke little, and never directly approached the Princess after the first day, Prince Mikhail appeared to be slowly wearing away at Talia's famously cavalier manner. Wherever she went, his dark eyes followed. When she reached for a canteen, his was always the first offered. When she emerged from her tent in the morning, she always found him waiting just outside the door, and no matter how many times she needled or baited him in conversation, his only response was a continuous and direct stare, which would unsettle even the calmest and most rational mind.
As the group reached the top of the last hill before Gelt, Princess Talia reined in her horse. Coming to a stop beside her, the captain of her guard glanced at her, before squinting into the distance to see what had caught her eye.
"Have you a scope, Sir George?" she asked, snapping her fingers impatiently.
The captain jumped to obey her, patting down his saddle bag, before rummaging through the pack behind him. However, before he found it, Prince Mikhail had already edged his horse between the two and pushed his own scope into the Princess's hand.
Talia scowled and put it to her eye, while everyone but Prince Mikhail studied the horizon beyond Gelt where she looked. A tiny line of ants carrying heavy burdens was approaching the distant town.
"Those are not our soldiers!" she hissed.
"That is the relief caravan, sent by the Emperor," Prince Mikhail reminded her.
"Indeed? Then they are quite late, aren't they? Gelt should have received supplies within a few days of the treaty being signed. It has been almost a month since then. It appears that the Emperor is lax as ever in fulfilling his promises," Talia observed, tossing the scope over her shoulder without a glance at Prince Mikhail.
The Prince, his reflexes sharp as ever, stretched out an arm and caught it easily, as though he had expected it. Talia spurred her horse and rode hard toward Gelt. Her guard hastened to follow.
"So much trouble for such an irritating little creature," Ilya sighed. Mikhail turned to see his aide trot his horse alongside him. The two Unarians stoically watched from the hilltop as the rest of the party hastened toward the distant town.
"You've had word?" Prince Mikhail grunted.
"Yes, yes. A messenger hawk at first light. It appears to work exactly as you had determined," Ilya assured him.
"And there were numerous tests of-"
"Exactly as you specified. Numerous subjects, all of them roughly the same height and weight as the Princess. It will go as planned," Ilya hurriedly added.
"And the Emperor?" Mikhail growled.
"Not a sneeze from the palace. We have no reason to suspect he'll change his mind this time," Ilya nodded.
Prince Mikhail frowned. If he lived a century, Ilya would never come to understand how the mind of the Emperor worked. It was not his fault. The young man was driven through life by a completely opposite set of morals and desires. It was enough that Mikhail understood the Emperor and would be ready when the time came.
"I can't say I understand what you are thinking," Ilya hinted, raising an eyebrow. "She is not the first born daughter of the House of Eosin. I don't imagine that the Emperor has any interest in her beyond wanting her gone. But I've been watching you these last few days, and--"
"Enough," Prince Mikhail warned in a low voice. Ilya fell silent for only a moment, but then, one corner of his mouth turned up in a teasing smirk.
"She's very pretty," he said lightly. "Mean spirited and sharp-tongued, but really, quite pretty. I haven't ever seen eyes like that before. Blue like the ocean, but also green sometimes-- and she has a way of lowering her eyelashes and glaring at you that's... well I suppose she means to appear threatening, but it feels sort of..."
"Must I cut your tongue from your mouth to still it? I said enough," Prince Mikhail repeated.
Ilya chuckled to himself before spurring his horse forward.
The gates of Gelt were thrown open at once for the princess and her followers. They had travelled at such speed, that once inside the walls, they immediately caught up to the supply caravan as it made its way through the town to the main fortress. The citizens of Gelt, already excited by the arrival of wagons loaded with food from the Empire, poured into the streets. As word spread that the Princess herself had also arrived, they began to cheer and shout blessings to their ruler.
They did not know the price paid for the food or the end of the war, Talia reminded herself. That particular bit of information had been very slow to spread, by her own order. By the time most Vezdans realized that the cost of peace was the life of their ruler, the last of Eosin, she would be long gone. She wondered, however, if the people who now stood on either side of the street proclaiming their loyalty to the House of Eosin, would feel betrayed or relieved by her decision.
And then a different realization hit her. She gasped and swiveled in her saddle to glance behind her. She did not see the massive figure of the dark prince on his horse. It seemed he had sense enough not to march through the center of a town he had spent years besieging. There were many among the crowd who would recognize him, and all of them had reason enough to curse and spit at him.
He was surely close by though. The man never allowed her out of his sight. It was insulting, really. If she ran away, the treaty would be void and her people would likely be massacred by the Empire. Did he not think her a principled and just woman? No. He likely did not think of her at all. He likely thought only of himself and what he would do in the same situation, she decided.
Prince Mikhail, she knew from experience, never did anything which did not in some way benefit himself or the Empire. He was not above lying, murdering, or even hurting the innocent, and in three days she would be completely at his mercy-- not that he had any. In fact, insisting that he be the guard to accompany her as she toured her borders for the last time was probably just another way to inflict cruelty upon her-- it probably gave him some sort of secret thrill that his very presence tortured her.
Talia suppressed a shudder and set her face to look stern and noble. The same look she had often seen her father wear as he addressed their people, and that she had practiced in the mirror when young. She had not mastered it to the same degree, but then... she had never really believed she'd have need to make such a face, for in those days it did not seem possible that she would ever lead anyone.
Dwelling on the past always put her in a foul mood, and so she resolved not to do so. Not today of all days, for today... today she would once again see Sir Aron.
It had been many, many months since she had last met with the famous commander of the Northern Vezdan army, and their last council had been a bitter one. Sir Aron was no longer the handsome and golden young knight whom all Vezda pinned their hopes on, and Princess Talia no longer the tiny, mischievous child in bare feet whom all of Vezda fondly recalled. At no time had that been more apparent than their last meeting.
Sir Aron's blonde hair was prematurely streaked in grey and the dark circles under his haunted eyes made him seem far older than his 36 years. He walked with a barely detectable limp these days-- a souvenir from a fierce battle on the plains of Breck-- and he rarely smiled or winked as he used to.
Even though the years had not been kind, he was still a handsome man. His shoulders were as strong as ever and his jawline did not sag. Talia had observed all this at their last meeting, as he spoke in calm and reassuring tones, telling her that they had no need to consider such a treaty, that Vezda would defend the House of Eosin to its very last sword, and that there was no Vezda without her.
She had responded that she was not asking for either his permission or council and that she had only come to Gelt to give her final orders to him. Since that time, Sir Aron had been dispatched to lead the small band of scouts sent to ascertain that the Unarian forces had withdrawn beyond the mountains and had likely returned only days before her arrival.
"Your highness, Sir George has spoken with a messenger from Sir Aron. He is returned with his scouts and has prepared rooms for yourself and our entourage in the east wing of the fortress," Lady Amari called to her.
"I hope I can wash some of the road off of me before meeting him," Princess Talia complained, though her cheeks reddened ever so slightly.
Lady Amari gave a knowing smirk.
"I have already requested as much," she assured the princess.
"Very well. Send Sir George to the storehouses with the caravans. Tell him to inspect each wagon carefully. Their supplies took so long in delivery, I should not wonder if some of the food is spoiled. We will demand recompence for every single bushel of rotten potatoes!"
"I will see to it, your highness," Lady Amari soothed.
Princess Talia held her arm up, which drove the assembled citizens to even louder cheers. With a last careful glance over her shoulder, she steered her horse away from the main road and quickly rode for the rear entrance of the fortress.
After a long hot bath, and Lady Amalia's careful and precise application of oils and make-ups, Princess Talia studied her reflection in the mirror. Although people often complimented her and said that she reminded them of her sister, Talia could see nothing of Ora's beautiful face in her own. Ora had large and kind brown eyes and a small shapely nose, with high cheekbones that were naturally pink. She was tall, like their mother, though a bit curvier and softer in form. Above all, whenever she moved, or sat or danced, she did so with grace. She seemed to almost float as she walked, and it was this, Talia envied above all. Ora walked with the bearing of a Queen. She had the power to command every eye in the room just by lifting a glass or rising to her feet.
Oleg had often teased Talia for the way she walked. He said with legs as short as hers, she had to take three times as many steps to go half as far as Ora, and that she didn't walk so much as scamper.
Talia scowled at her own slightly upturned nose. It was the sort of nose that older brothers loved to tap when they reprimanded you for something, and it made her look younger than her 18 years. Perhaps it was her nose that had always made Sir Aron smile fondly and pat her head. In fact, he had done so right up until the very day before she sat on the throne for the first time. Though he would not have dared to pat her head after that, the expression he wore when he looked at her remained the same.
"Sir Aron received your message and is waiting in the hall," Lady Amalia announced as she entered the room.
"And the Emperor's stinking dog?" Talia demanded.
"Has arrived as well. The Unarians were given the rooms at the end of the outer hall," Lady Amalia smirked.
Princess Talia chuckled to herself. Sir Aron should be commended for his foresight. She remembered from childhood that the rooms at the end of the outer hall were closest to both the stables and the scrap pile from the kitchens. The stench was almost unbearable in the summer months.
"How do I-"
"Beautiful," Lady Amari murmured before the princess could finish asking. "Our princess was always... will always be beautiful."
"You're entirely too biased," Princess Talia grinned.
Lady Amari opened the door for her and lead her to the Great Hall where Sir Aron waited at the door to the banquet room. She bowed to both the princess and Sir Aron before silently taking her leave. Sir Aron bowed to the Princess as well, and the corner of his mouth twisted up in his best imitation of a smile as he offered his arm.
"Your highness, please allow me to escort you to the dining--"
"Oh. If we might... if you would speak with me... for just a moment first," the princess stuttered nervously. "There was something... well, a few things that I'd... that I'd like to say, things I need to say to you before... before... well, you know..."
Sir Aron's face fell at her words, but he was nothing if not a lifelong courtier of the house of Eosin, and he quickly hid his reaction with another false smile.
"Of course, my princess, of course. I would be honored if you'd walk with me a bit before our meal," he quickly offered.
She took his arm then and allowed him to lead her to the upper gallery of the hall. The floor was deserted, though she glanced around just to be sure. As they walked past the entrance to the abandoned north wing of the fortress, she suddenly remembered that there was a secluded alcove just behind the statue of Saint Ghent and when they reached it, she quickly sat down on the bench and lowered her eyes demurely.
"If we could rest here for just a moment," she insisted. "Please sit."
Sir Aron looked uncomfortable but did as he was told.
"I suppose what I... well, I wasn't very kind to you when we last met," Talia began. "I was harsh and rude, and I know very well that you only wanted to protect me, but I was afraid. I was afraid because I wanted very much to let you protect me, and I knew that if I listened to you, I would do that. That I would continue to hide behind you--"
"It wasn't hiding! You never hid behind me! You lead our people, just as your parents and Prince Oleg, and... the same way that her highness Queen Ora--"
"Oh, I was never so good at it as Ora," Talia interrupted. "The people truly loved Ora, she inspired them. You loved Ora." She spoke the last sentence in a voice barely above a whisper.
Sir Aron seemed to have been struck dumb by her words. He opened his mouth as though he would refute it but closed it again because he could not.
"It is alright. I was, perhaps, not as good as Ora was, but I was good in my own way. I tried very hard, and I thought someday, that people would see how hard I tried, and that people would love me almost as much as they had Ora. I thought that if given enough time, people would see that I was not a child anymore and they would... they would..."
"The people DO love you, my Princess," Sir Aron insisted.
"Not the one person I wanted most to love me, though. Not him," Talia whispered, and finally dared to look up at Sir Aron.
The full realization of what she was confessing seemed to dawn on him in that moment. He glanced quickly at her, and then away. He knew that his eyes would give away his thoughts, and he would do nothing to hurt the little sister whom Ora had so loved.
"Forgive me, I did not know of your... feelings," he admitted.
"I realize as much," Princess Talia mumbled.
"Please do not be offended by my... astonishment. It is not that I... but I am so much older than you. I am closer in age to your father than I am to--"
"I am only six years younger than Ora."
"Yes... I suppose that is... that is true..." Sir Aron agreed, crestfallen.
The two sat in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes. At last, Sir Aron, ever gallant, drew a deep breath and lifted his face. He stood and then dropped to one knee before the princess.
"Then, Princess Talia of the House of Eosin, my life has been yours to command from the moment you sat upon the throne. If you truly want an oath of marriage and my companionship in this life, I am honored to give that as well," he said holding out a hand to take hers.
Talia gently pushed away his hand and shook her head.
"No woman wants to have to order a man to love her," Talia sighed. "And I know by now that you'll never look at me the way you did Ora. You'll never want me that way."
"Many good marriages are built on friendship. They often far outlast those bonds formed quickly in the heat of passion," Sir Aron reasoned.
"Perhaps that is true. I haven't any experience with either," Talia agreed, "but the passionate ones look a great deal more fun."
At her words, Sir Aron gave the first real smile she had seen him give in years.
"I suppose so, but there may still be time for such matters. You don't have to--"
"You're going to say I don't have to honor the treaty, because you think I've made the decision rashly. Throwing my life away because my sister's old beau doesn't return my affections?" Talia guessed. "It wouldn't have mattered if you had loved me as much as Ora, I would have made the same choice."
"You can't trust that the Emperor will honor his end of the agreement. Ora believed in his words. The dark prince had also convinced her that if she agreed to his terms the war would end and--"
"I know what happened as well as you. Perhaps better. I believe I know the Emperor's intent now. It is not our land he wants. We do not have fertile fields anymore, our orchards and farms are decimated, our mines are already under his control, and though they remain in our hands, our universities have always been open to the scholars of his land. We have no great treasury, or industry, and our army and weaponry is not as advanced as his own. I cannot see a benefit that outweighs the loss of 18 years of constant war other than wiping the oldest and most revered royal household from the face of the world. I think that was always his goal. Our House, the esteem it is held in, and the noble history of it stand in such stark contrast to his own line that he could not bear our existence. That is what I believe. And when I am gone, my people will no longer have to die for me to live and for my house to stand. And the Emperor will someday realize that the House of Eosin will always stand... safely in the hearts and memories of the people we defended. He cannot fight a war against an enemy that hides inside the people." she reasoned.
"But our people need you with them to--"
"No. I will not argue with you over this. I have said what I wanted to say. I did not want to go to my death with a single regret. Sir Aron, I have loved you since I was a child. It was the only thing I ever envied Ora for... your heart. I want you to understand that my decision had nothing to do with my feelings for you. I suppose it is selfish of me to burden you with such a confession at this late of an hour, but I have carried this secret for so long. I have carried so many secrets for so long, that I feel I really must lay some of my burden down. I don't think I can carry all of it all the way to Unaria," she smiled.
"It is no burden to me, but an honor greater than I deserve," Sir Aron said in a low voice.
Talia sighed again and motioned for him to stand.
"I'd like a moment to myself before we join the others for dinner. If you don't mind, sir..."
"Of course. I will wait for you below in the Great Hall," Sir Aron agreed, bowing his head. He lingered for a moment. "We shall speak again. Before you hand yourself over, we will speak again," he insisted.
"Of course," Princess Talia agreed and nodded her dismissal at him.
He looked as though he still had much to say, but he had never once pushed back against an order from the House of Eosin. He bowed again before turning to leave.
"We shall speak again, Sir Aron," Princess Talia whispered to herself as she watched him go, "but never alone, and never as we have now. Farewell, Sir Aron. Farewell."
A few steps from the alcove, behind the high arched doorway that led to the abandoned north wing, a massive figure stirred uncomfortably in the shadows. He also watched as Sir Aron descended the stairs to the Great Hall, his limp just a little more pronounced than before.