Aethan

Readris stood out of the sea like a shimmering glass lined with gold, casting rays of light in every direction. It was the beacon of every ship miles around. The entire city shone brightly with a background of glittering gems due to sunlight hitting the sea. It was just the sort of place that suited my father. From this large web, my father spun his influence to touch all corners of Gracia.

The lines installed all over the city made transport immensely easy, and as I watched it in the distance I noticed bundles of produce being zip lined to the lower levels, transport cars were lifting people to take them up to Hill’s Peak and the Palace.

Mirax’s ship was lack luster, a small, brown and unadorned dinghy in comparison to the royal galleons and frigates that were in Readris Port. The timbers of the ship were well on its way to becoming waterlogged and could easily become the next meal for termites. There were some fishing vessels at the docks that were easily more seaworthy that this one.

Here the people paid us no mind, and the busy sailors hardly noticed that I, the stowaway, was just another man walking the platform to take me onto the docks.

This was one of the few docks in which the scent of fish did not cast a net over everything. By comparison it was sweet, not quite fresh and natural, but still pleasant. The last time I was here the scent was mixed with cannon powder still from the war galleons and the many shots exchanged between the North and South.

I did not have many fond memories of the capital but it still managed to amaze me every time I visited. The people worked tirelessly to make work easier, so that now several towns had sprung up, bordering Readris. To get to the palace we passed through two of them, lower rings of the city beginning with Port town, then progressing to Merchantville and finally the capital, where many manors bore the emblems of minor lords, army captains and the like. Here the rich could look down the hill on all those living life in relative squalor.

Mirax wasted no time to get me into the castle. The palace itself was made of shutters of metal along with stone and glass, and was a wonder of the modern world.

Dressed in common clothes and with my hair wrapped in a dusty rag, I passed every point without notice along with a disguised Mirax beside me. He knew every passageway and every guard's schedule and when every servant would be on their rounds and he kept my face and hair covered at all times besides. At the palace gates, the guards stopped us.

"State your business with the King," the man had a gruff voice that could scare away a lion.

"I am the business of the king," Mirax replied. Immediately they recognized him and let us through.

I wondered what they would have done if I had been the one speaking. Not many in the capital knew me since I had not lived here in eight years. The last time I visited was months ago. My dealings with the court were minimal, and no one ever sought me out to gain favor with the king. That was always Aella. The whole realm knew who I was. The disfavored son.

The palace stable master was handling one of the royal coaches and ordering about a few small stable boys. The horses were dressed impeccably in the symbols of the royal house, a scarlet coloured python, curling its thick body around a sapphire with an outstretched tongue licking the jewel on a field of green.

In the palace though, Mirax sped me down familiar pathways. The marble-work on the floors were the same star-shaped patterns I had learned, and these had led me previously to Aella's chambers.

Inside the room, the scent was the first thing I noticed. Crushed lilacs and roses.

My fingers sought every smooth and roughened surface of the room. The furnishing, the windows made of glass, the royal garments, provocative dresses and lavish jewelry. I breathed in my twin and remembered her with every detail I absorbed about my surroundings. Her quarters were smaller than mine back at Gorma, and I remembered when she had first battled Mirax to have this room. Her motive - the clear view of the sea from the balcony. Upon catching sight of the bay I allowed myself a final sigh and closed my eyes to say a prayer to the graces.

The last time I had been in this room was just after the betrothal. A year ago I had met my sister in this room and found her eyes on the sea, her steely gaze fixed south.

___________

One year ago

“I had been looking for you,” she greeted me, without taking her eyes off the sea, “You disappeared right after the Treaty was signed, and I had no idea where you went.” Every inch of her body had been drawn up to full height and was topped off by her official crown, the one that marked her as the heiress. I couldn’t help but feel slightly insignificant when she wore it.

I shook my head slowly, watching her with caution, “I couldn’t watch you sign your life away –“

“You couldn’t watch?” Her voice had sharpened to knife blades, now held at my throat. Aella could put up with many things, but she did not suffer fools. Her dress flowed from her body and trailed slightly on the floor. She turned to face me, with a face of stone, a single hand reached up to grasp at her necklace, where she wore a silver anchor. I had given it to her three years ago after our mother died.

I crossed the room, closing the distance between us and putting my arms around her shoulders, “I didn’t think it made a difference being there… You know how father is, the less he sees of me while I’m here the better.”

“The better for you.” She was sullen, but her voice was more resigned now, “Some of us can’t escape his attention. Not even for a moment.”

I sighed, bearing her disappointment and stroking her hair. I hugged her against me and she leaned to rest her head on my shoulder. Forgiveness. “I’m sorry. What would you have me do?”

She was waiting for this. Her hands pushed me away and then captured my face, her blue eyes darkened in my shadow, “Another day, we will have the talk about what we need to do. But not now… For now, you have to go home, get far away from the capital and stay on your ship as much as possible.”

“Aella…” What was this now? She was sending me away?

She interrupted me, eyes blazing now, “Promise me. Promise me you’ll do as I ask.”

It troubled me to hear her speak this way, as if she were frenzied and didn’t know what else to do. She was doing and saying what she felt she could, and I could not deny her. I nodded, “I’ll leave in the morning.”

“You’ll leave now.” It was an order when she said it wearing her crown. I felt the difference in her tone, the caution and the command. She didn’t want to make it an option, and for her sake I fought back the tide of resentment I felt toward her when she issued me orders.

So I said, “My bags are always packed when I visit. Lumen and I will leave together by mid-sun.”

Her chest heaved, as if the stone that was weighing her down before had rolled off. She nodded and gave a small smile, “Good. Good. Stay close to Lumen.”

“Aella, whatever it is you can tell it to me –“

“I’ve done terrible things, Aethan,” she shook her head as she interrupted me, and her smile saddened. “I can’t tell you any of them. But for now, you have to leave. It’s the only thing you can do for me Aethan, please, it’s all I ask.”

I stopped myself from asking anymore questions. Whatever it was, she clearly had made the decision to battle it alone, without help from me. “I’ll do as you ask then.” Slowly we let go of each other and I backed away.

It felt wrong as I was leaving. Something between us had broken, or at least shifted. Would I have the opportunity to see her before she left, or did she mean that I must always stay away and never see her again? What did it say about me that it made her life easier if I stayed away?

I swallowed my pride, an action I had grown use to by now. “Remember what Mother always said?”

This time her smile was different, even though it took a while to come. Aella nodded, then she intoned, “It will always be Aella and Aethan, even against the whole world.”

“Never forget it.”

Fear doused the light of her eyes, and something like shame. But she clutched her anchor, “I won’t.”

___________

The ghost of her voice still rang in my ear, bringing the emptiness of her promise. Who would stand with me against the rest of the world now that she was gone?

She deserved so much more than she had gotten. More than what father took from her. The fury that built in my bones gave me strength again. I will myself not to be weak.

"Princess?" The voice was feminine, pleading, "Princess is that you? Princess, I’ve been waiting for –“

I had started at the voice, but it abruptly cut off just as it had started. I scrambled up from the floor, wiping away my tear-stained cheeks and fixing my clothes. Whoever the woman at the door was, she could help me fill in some of the gaps about what the word at court about Aella was.

Apparently not even her servants knew of Aella's death. My father was paranoid. But at that moment however I didn't care, I needed answers.

By the time I reached the door, though, the lock rattled, then it was swinging inwards to let in a massive towering figure of a man, with a face my body knew it should remember.

His face bore the years of a man just past his middling years with silver specks in his otherwise black hair and groomed beard. The eyes I found surveying me held no hint of warmth or indeed even recognition. It might have been the look of a man observing the ants on their way, idly.

This man was my father. The King.

It took me three seconds before I remembered protocol and sank into a low bow, saluting him with hands clasped above my breast.

"Aethan," he said my name like it was the answer to his problems, voice giving emotions where his face betrayed none. "Rise. My, you've grown." Then he corrected himself, "Grown up, since you are still rather slender." I had heard my father describe my body many ways. By comparison, the word ‘slender’ was a compliment.

He crossed the room, and those haunting blue eyes drew closer with him, striking fear into me. His tall frame was a head and wide shoulders above me casting me into his imperious shadow.

When he reached close enough his hand took a hold on my chin turning my face both left and right. His touch burned. "But by the gods you are beautiful... Sunburnt a little around your ears, but you are your sister's very image. The other half of the same coin..." His voice trailed off as he got caught in some thought. "You must be so confused right now."

I did not recognize him, this man that was attempting to put aside hostilities toward me since he no longer had a choice. He was not particularly kind, but neither had he showed his usual contempt for me. Yet.

I waited for another word from him. Anything, one sign of mourning or of the loss we now shared. But he appeared not to be bothered in the slightest, he was too busy ruling.

He let his hand fall away and turned to take a seat. I remained standing. The royal protocol was that I remain standing unless invited to recline. He left me to stand while finding a decanter of wine and helping himself with a goblet. "There is much to discuss and very little time. The escorts are already being prepared for the journey and Mirax will need to prepare you-“

I interrupted. "Where is she?" He could have my tongue out for that, I had been reminded of that before.

He frowned, clearly displeased at my reminder. The emotion of grief would have sat with unease on his face, but disdain made itself at home and welcomed other unpleasant things to dine. He let the next few words out between the guards of his teeth. "We laid her to rest below the castle. We could not make news of her death public for the realm's safety." How he hated that I felt he needed to answer to me.

But I didn’t care, he had taken me from my home and denied me my mourning rites just to play his power game. I felt as much hatred for him as I was sure he did for me.

"And why is that? Why aren't the bells ringing and why are we not closing the ports and banning feasts?" This is no ordinary death. His heiress is dead and here he was sitting to discuss politics over a glass of wine as if it nothing was amiss.

"Guard your tongue and all will be explained..." So he had an explanation after all? I stayed quiet, and he resumed speaking when he felt like it again, teaching me a lesson in his own way. I was on his time, not the other way around.

"You remember that your sister was betrothed, I presume?" He paused long enough for me to nod.

Yes. The whole realm knew it. He had done the unthinkable, promising his heiress to the heir of Yarkia, after all. For any who didn't truly know my father, it was an act tantamount to giving away his kingdom, but deep in my bones, I knew better.

The king continued, "And so news of her death cannot reach the small folk… The people are tired of war and this promise of marriage solved that and ended official hostilities with the South. But it is no done deal without a marriage. So the fewer people that know, the better." He laid aside his glass and poured some more wine, handing the goblet to me. I took it but didn't drink. He had not explained how he planned to solve the problem.

He continued after another pause, "We still need that marriage. And we can have it thanks to our spies. It has come to my attention that the son of King Haslon prefers the company of men, as the fates would have it..." He paused to let the news sink in.

And it did finally sink in. Like an anchor burrowing into my flesh, the weight of this news was like a death sentence. I gaped for a moment, then shot him down, “No."

My father picked up his goblet again and surveyed me with glinting eyes as he drank. The eyes of the greedy. "Yes," he said simply after a sip.

Gracian culture frowned upon a marriage of two men, and women were out rightly forbidden. My father was mad but surely he was not mad enough to anger the graces, was he? Even the priests wouldn’t conduct the marriage rites and reported anyone attempting to coerce them.

Our culture allowed men or women to be concubines, entertaining sideshows, but marriage... That was another matter entirely.

I would be scorned by my people. The Faith would bar me from prayers and deny the power of my position in the land. I would become one of the faithless in their eyes.

"Father, please don't do this," I begged because he clearly intended to do it. There was nothing that could change his mind now.

"Arrangements have already been made. King Haslon and his son will be informed of the tragic news, I assume they will be happier with you as a substitute anyway," He said it casually as if Aella's death was a small matter. "And you will travel to the Southern Kingdom under the guise of Princess Aella. You will wed the young Prince and when the time comes they will reveal the truth of the marriage. When it is too late. I don't care for your pride, you will do as you are told. The Southerners will accept the marriage, and that's all I need."

“All you need for what?” He did not answer me. He did not have to. "My sister lies not even cold in her coffin and you intend me to marry her betrothed, a man. Someone you don't even know." I said it bitterly, with grieved tears streaming down my face. "Will you not at least let me see her?"

"You think me mad or cruel?" His tone was wounded as if my thoughts were far from the truth. He was mad. He was cruel. All sorts of treasonous things ran through my mind then. Patricide, no less. "Mirax will take you to say your farewells. You have a few days here before your departure but you will spend most of them with Mirax. And Aethan, remember, you will answer to the name Aella. You will forget that you are Aethan and you will don the robes you are given and you will carry yourself with all the grace of a princess about to become a queen. Am I understood?"

For the first time, even after given clear instructions, I did not understand. I had barely heard him. But still I nodded. My father was not a kind man, even if he had only used his most reasonable voice during our conversation. If Aella and I were two sides of a double-headed coin, my father was both heads and tails of a single biro in one body.

He rose slowly and I automatically sank into my bow. When he stopped to look at me it took a while before I looked up to see his frown.

"You are no longer the prince. Do not bow. "His tone was like ice, as he added the final blow, "Aella."

I rose from my bow of clasped hands, knowing exactly what he meant. I was not to address him as a male. Our culture made sure to separate the male from the female even in our speech. Feminine language showed grace and courtesy, and insults did not exist in the framework, besides to say that a meal was not good to eat or that something had not been accomplished right.

My father was stripping me of my manhood today. I would not speak as a male. I was not to behave as a male. I was his daughter now.

It took a short while but I swallowed my pride. The man in front of me was not to be trifled with, he would have what he wanted one way or the other. And while he had not said it, I knew that he would take the physical proof of my manhood if that’s what it took to make me submit.

I sank now into a cross-footed salute with my eyes lowered and chin outwards. He rested a hand on my cheek like a father would address a daughter on the day of her wedding. "You will make a stunning bride."