¤ Memory

She felt a little raw, hurting at places where she didn’t know that existed. It had hurt worse when she was torn away roughly from her connection with the Soul. It felt like someone had brutally ripped strips of skin off her. Skin.

She looked at herself with her new-found sight. Before now, all she could see was infinite darkness; now the place she was in was dimly lit, allowing her to make out the faint outline of fingers. She looked at herself some more; to her surprise, she found that she had arms now.

She touched her own forearm, committing this new sensation to her memory. There was something else in her memory too, that strange incident that had unfolded before her eyes, or rather, the eyes that the Soul lent to her, at the big… arena? She struggled to find the word that the Soul had used; it teased and fluttered almost out of reach, like a coy butterfly.

There was the soft brush of remembrance against her now. Something urged her to move around a little; unsteadily, she groped around in the dim light, before her fingers touched something that yielded to pressure.

She pushed at it, and it fell away, a panel of dark nothing that opened to a dazzling square of light. She shied away as the light darted into her eyes, making her hurt like when the connection between her and the Soul was shredded, but not as much. (Something told her this was pain, bad and to be avoided.)

A pleasing sound (sound? music?) came from the square of light. Cautiously (what was caution?), she approached the square and peered into it.

The high-ceilinged room is richly draped in yards of gold and silver cloth, the ends of the cloth cascading down the walls of the room in luxurious waves. The sunlight from the giant skylight in the ceiling plays on the surfaces of these shiny hangings. Combined with the cheerful music played by a small group of musician fairies near the centre of the room, the atmosphere is grand and festive.

As it should be, because today is the day that His Majesty Kranz celebrates his hundredth year of rule.

There are fairies scattered all over the room, chatting in small groups of three to five. All of them are dressed in majestic looking gowns and richly embroidered robes, decorated with myriads of gemstones and trimmings. It is obvious that no fairy scrimped on making sure that their outfits are the best that mesos can buy.

The low murmur in the room sounds soothing, but any experienced courtier would not tell you about the running undercurrent of controlled hatred, sly manoeuvring, poisonous whispering and covert backstabbing that the plastic smiles on these faces barely conceal.

One lone figure makes her way across the room, her silver wings furled neatly behind her back. A thin golden circlet sits on her brow, almost hidden in her thick hair. In contrast to the rich gowns of the other fairy ladies, this fairy girl’s light blue silken dress is simple, with only a spangle of small diamonds at the hem. It suits her petite figure well, and makes her look taller than her short height.

She is accosted at several points on her path by other groups of fairies; with polite shakes of her blue-haired head, she quickly turns down their invitations to join them. She continues, ignorant of the sharp whispers amongst the spurned fairies that follow her refusal.

Someone calls her name; she smiles, for this is who she is looking for. A kind-looking fairy hails her from one corner of the room, the heavy golden crown sitting on his forest green hair identifying him to be the Fairy King. He smiles back at the fairy girl through his thick green beard. As she approaches, her steps become tentative when she sees who accompanies him.

A tall, proud fairy lord stands beside King Kranz, a thin silver circlet holding his electric green hair back from his elegantly boned face. His golden wings are also furled tightly behind his back, a striking contrast from the pure white and gold-trimmed tunic that he wore.

‘Your Majesty.’ The fairy girl curtsies to the King, who smiles warmly at her. ‘Lord Verchiel.’ She greets the fairy lord stiffly. He acknowledges the young fairy girl with a slight incline of his head.

‘Come, my dear.’ King Kranz beckons to her. ‘My nephew here does not agree to the proposal that you have put forward to me yesterday. I suppose you should defend it yourself?’

The fairy girl looks at Lord Verchiel, studying this haughty being carefully. Being the nephew of a King who has no children, he has been named the Heir to King Kranz’s throne. ‘Why, Lord Verchiel, is there anything amiss with my proposal?’ She asks softly, a lilt of surprise in her voice.

‘Nothing much, dear colleague,’ the fairy lord Verchiel answers in an almost flat voice. A true courtier, his face and tone betray none of his feelings. ‘It is just that, well, the Academy that my Royal Uncle here has so kindly agreed to set up is already well funded. Why do you feel a need for it to have additional resources at its disposal?’

‘The Academy is the Fairy Royalty’s expression of goodwill to the mortals. Surely there is nothing wrong for more of the Royal Treasury to go into funding this worthy cause.’ The fairy girl replied calmly. ‘Any worries that these additional sums would be missed from other necessary aspects of the Royal Treasury’s expenditure are frankly, unwarranted.’

Smoothing down the silk of her dress, she continues, her eyes cast towards the floor. She grinned privately, knowing from Verchiel’s stifled silence that he was losing this battle. ‘If you would refer to my proposal, Lord Verchiel, you would find that I have pointed out some excesses in other superfluous expenditures, like the budget set aside for miscellaneous lifestyle claims by the higher officials of His Majesty’s court.’

‘You and I, Lord Verchiel, must agree that such sacrifices on our part to aid His Majesty’s efforts in improving diplomatic relations with the mortals are definitely worthwhile.’ The fairy girl looks up daringly, noting with smug pleasure that his pale face is becoming a sickly pallor.

‘Not to forget about the possible talents we can garner from the Selections and the training that the Academy provides. Surely you would not deprive His Majesty’s court of the service that these students can provide.’

She completes her little speech, and observes a flash of anger and contempt dart across Verchiel’s startling green eyes. The fairy lord only murmurs something in deference to her argument, then tells the King, ‘I have no more questions, Your Majesty.’

The fairy girl glances towards the King, and notes that he looks pleased. The King catches her eyes, and raises a thick eyebrow at her. He had not asked her to argue for her proposal for nothing, she knows. After all, this is the King, who has kept his throne for a hundred years. He is not only testing the Heir to his throne, but also putting her skills as Advisor to the test.

And this time, she had won. She smiles demurely, a thrill of triumph in her heart.

A rustle of silk makes her look up as another fairy joins the group. The newcomer is a fairy lady with deep purple hair and a proud carriage to her head. Her lavender gown is made of many layers of light gauzy material, and looks very expensive. Her full lips are painted red, drawing attention to her beautiful, if cold, face.

‘Lady Hedwig,’ the fairy girl greets this lady as stiffly as she did Lord Verchiel; the lady only gives her an emotionless smile in return.

King Kranz gives a deep hearty laugh. ‘Hedwig! How has my nephew’s wife enjoyed this party?’

‘It has been splendid so far, Your Majesty,’ Hedwig replies, her painted lips wide with a beatific smile. ‘It is indeed one of milord Verchiel’s better ideas to hold a celebration in your honour, is it not?’

Kranz laughs again. ‘I am pleased indeed. Well, I shall not interfere with you youngsters getting together then. Good day, Advisors, Hedwig.’ With that, he moves off, bringing with him all the warmth in the group.

‘Why, if this isn’t His Majesty’s newest pet?’ Lady Hedwig starts to say, her voice now cool and dismissive.

‘Milady, that is not polite.’ Verchiel says. His bored tone makes the apologetic statement sound totally lacking in sincerity.

‘Milord, let us come away now. There is no point wasting the time of important people like this Advisor’s here. Surely she needs to go to the aid of some needy mortal or another.’ Lady Hedwig answers caustically. She links her arm around Verchiel’s slender one and walks off with him, totally ignoring the fairy girl as she curtsies their departure.

Standing alone in the crowded room once more, the fairy girl could not help but feel a swell of anger and sadness. How she hates the politics of the fairy court, and the cruel games that the fairy court plays. If it were not for the kindly King Kranz and her desire to help the King improve his kingdom, she would have resigned from her job as Advisor a long time ago.

But still, it could have been worse, the fairy girl thinks. At least Kranz can make sure that she would not get harmed. When the time comes that the Academy is finally able to run on its own, she could then resign.

After all, what use is it being an immortal fairy if you cannot afford to wait?

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Writing in present tense makes me nervous. I hope I didn’t make any serious grammar mistakes. :/

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