Hein - For Raine and Atah
 

Giant waves ripped through the ocean, and assaulted the ship full of panicking travelers. This was just Atah's luck to be caught in a storm at sea. In fact, it had happened to her before, but she could never remember a storm so fierce as this. There may as well have been waterfalls where the hatches to the deck were, since there was so much water pouring into them through the cracks. She could only imagine what it was like outside. Of course, everyone but the crew was packed into the small quarters below.

There were adventurers eager to be in such peril, though they didn't see how idiotic their bravery was. There were families; mothers holding their terrified children. And somehow isolated from the rest, was a woman who looked like she really didn't belong with this crowd. She looked almost royal. Atah wondered why a person like that would be here, but she didn't have much time to stare before she felt a very large impact that exposed the bottom of the ship to the sea. She scrambled for the ladder to the upper deck, but she wasn't fast enough. Icy, wet hands pulled her into their embrace, and everything went black.


Atah's eyes opened to a blinding light. Am I dead? she thought. After a few moments, she realized that the light wasn't so bright, but just sunlight pouring through a window... window? That would mean she was in a building.. and probably alive! She moved her fingers a little, and felt soft cotton beneath her. A bed? She tried to sit up, but dizziness overcame her and she fell back down. "Hello?" she called, hoping someone would answer.

Anger coursed through Isobel's veins, animosity breathed from her like an aura of venom. How? How was is possible that the Queen had died, that everyone on that ship had died? Everyone but her, that is. That girl, who did she think she was? Surviving when her mother was not allowed the same privilege? It was cruel, that's what it was. Cruel, and unfair. Instead of leaving behind the one who mattered most to not only Isobel but the entire kingdom, the Gods decided it would be far more useful to leave behind a stranger who knew nothing of the world. All right, that was unfair of her. Isobel knew nothing of this girl, and yet she was judging her all ready. But she was angry, and her anger needed somewhere to go.

Taking a step out of the castle, Isobel made her way into the city and headed toward the infirmary. The healers had taken charge of the girl, doing their best to make sure she was restored to full health. That was all fine and well with the princess, because the last thing she wanted was to be forced to tend to the girl who inadvertently took her mother's life. Again, not fair, but that was how this game was going to be played.

Throwing open the door and entering the building, Isobel demanded answers from the healers. Where is she? she barked at the innocent bystanders. One of them, slightly shaken from the anger, offered to show the princess to the room. That was fine. Isobel followed him, doing her best not to yell at every person she passed down the hall. She actually did pretty well, not speaking again until she was safely in the room with the Elf, door closed, and no one else in sight.

Taking a seat in the chair beside the bed, Isobel wondered if the girl was awake. Seeing she was, the Leiy felt no pity for the girl. "Tell me your name, Elf," Isobel demanded, "and tell me of your business here in Misu. Why have you traveled from your home?" Surprisingly, her tone was flat, no emotion betrayed her. Controlling, or more like hiding, her emotions was something Isobel prided herself in.

Atah blinked in surprise at the voice beside her, and looked at her visitor. "Atah Zurheuh, miss," she replied. The woman looked as if she took much pride in herself. She was certainly pretty, and looked, in Atah's opinion, almost too short to be an elf. But that was silly. What else would she be? All of this aside, she thought she'd better answer this woman. "I'm from Hust Villiage up north. You see, my father passed away recently, and I thought I should find myself somewhere far away. And what better a place than where my father's blades were shipped and sold?" she paused and her stomach growled. "...Got any food around here?"

Atah Zurheuh, that was her name. It did not sound like the name of a murderer, but in essence, that was what she was. This was all her fault. All of it. How DARE she have the audacity to live. Obviously she was oblivious to the chain of command that ran this world. The Queen was far higher up in any social ranking, so why did this Elf get to live while the other perished? Sometimes the gods were too cruel. There was no way this was Aiori's doing. No, it had to be the Elf Goddess. Why would the Leiy Goddess deprive her people of the one person, well one of the people, who brought peace to in this time of war?

After thinking on the matter silently for a long while, Isobel spoke, addressing the girl. "Zurheuh? And you say your father was a weapon smith?" she repeated, simply clarifying the information she was being fed. That was when the real fun began. Now it was time to attack the girl verbally. "I have never heard of him. Must not have been good enough for my blades," she said with a smug grin, anger flickering just behind her emerald eyes. There was the tiniest hint of a spark there, something that if ignited, if any flame were to find its way there, then the malice which housed it would bring the ceiling down upon all who were in vicinity.

A scoff spit from her lips at the inquiry for food. "Food?!" Isobel repeated, voice elevated now, "You are lucky I have allowed you to live this long. I will not allow such pleasantries like food for you until I decided whether you are friend or foe." Her eyes flicked from the girl to the window which lay beside her bed, tossing sunlight into the room at its leisure. The girl did not deserve sunlight. Or food. From that moment on she was a prisoner of war until Isobel deemed otherwise.

"Healer!" Isobel bellowed, leaning in the doorway. A young man came quickly, obviously much younger than Isobel, still a spark of youth in his sea-green eyes. Pointing toward the Elf in the bed, Isobel ordered the boy, "See to it that she is at full health by this evening. She will be joining me in the castle. I very well cannot interrogate a patient." Her anger and fiery gaze did not soften, instead, she nodded her head at Atah, still speaking to the boy. "Also, make her well aware of my position. I have half a mind to drown all of you for neglecting to tell her you do not address a Princess as miss," she told him with finality.

With all business taken care of for the moment, Isobel stormed from the room, taking her leave of the building to prepare whatever angry words she would have for the girl later that evening.

((Sorry about posting with my mule. I didn't realize I did it until it was too late.))

Did she just call food a pleasantry? Atah thought. And the nerve of this princess! My father may not have made weapons for royalty, but he was certainly well-known. She wanted very badly to chase after that woman and defend herself, but she didn't even have enough energy to sit. Perhaps the healer would do his job well, and she'd be able to speak to the princess again tonight.

"Lady Isobel, please, you will wear a hole in the floor pacing like that," a woman chided the Princess. Isobel simply threw her a nasty glower before returning to her pacing. She was preoccupied with her thoughts, too preoccupied to be bothered with silly notions like whatever joke her maidservant used to lighten the mood. There would be no cheer. No, she needed to think on what she was going to say to the Elf who dared live when she should have died. Determined to make the girl's stay in Misu as unpleasant as possible, she readied herself for the impending arrival.

Screwing up all the self-restraint she could manage, Isobel stopped her pacing, giving her feet a much needed rest. "Off with you! Go retrieve the Elf girl. It would be no good if she were late to a dinner invitation extended from the royal family," she ordered her maidservant, who bowed out of the room to do just that. Meanwhile, Isobel made her way into the dining hall. If she were lucky, there would be some silly servant messing things up, not doing his job properly. Scolding him would make her evening a little more pleasant.

The room was empty, mostly. Aside from the servants who bustled in and out, setting up things for the dinner, and Isobel. The Princess had requested that the rest of the royal family dine earlier that afternoon, allowing her alone time with the Elf. This was no easy feat, as the Regent was not too keen on letting her alone with the one person in the whole world who had a death wish if she obliged the Princess and showed up. Still, her uncle could not tell her no, and had relented after much discussion. The Prince had agreed to it almost immediately, because he had a prior engagement which the dinner had interfered with from the beginning.

Three people entered the room as the doors to the dining hall flew open. One was the maidservant Isobel had sent to fetch the girl. Then there was the girl herself and the healer who had attended to her earlier that morning. He scurried to the Princess' side, obviously about to inform her of something she cared not to hear. Bowing to her, he rambled on with words she tuned out, "I have done my best, Lady Isobel, but she is still quite fragile. Please, go easy on her." His eyes pleaded with her, and Isobel considered it for a moment. Verbal barrages could not be too harmful on the physical condition. "I will keep that in mind, Healer. Now, go. This is not an event meant for you," she told him. He bowed once more, and scurried out the door. The maidservant followed him.

Approaching the girl, Isobel motioned toward the table. "Sit," she ordered the girl, "This evening you are my guest, but I will not promise hospitality." With her words at an end, the Princess made her way to the head of the table. That seat was the King's seat, and not even the Regent had taken that place since his disappearance. Still, Isobel felt the need to flaunt her authority. She seated herself there, at the head of the table, not flinching or showing any sign of the emotional pain it had caused her in that moment to disrespect her father.

A woman walked into the infirmary, and somehow Atah knew she was being sent for. She felt weak, but the healer helped her stand. Once she was on her feet, it wasn't so bad. She left the room with the healer and the woman who came to get them, and walked silently down the marble hallways. She was very nervous. After all, she had never met someone so important as a princess. What would she say? Was there a proper way to sit? If she were served food, would she use the right utensils to eat it? Hell, right now she was hungry enough to eat with her hands. Countless thoughts flew through her mind, and the walk to her destination seemed to be miles.

Finally she reached a door that was opened by the servant, and they all walked through. In this room, she saw only the princess. In an instant, all of her anxiety was replaced by anger. Family was something Atah took very seriously, and this woman had insulted her late father for no real reason.

Atah was told to sit, so she took one of the clearly less-important chairs, and looked the princess straight in the eyes.

There she was: the girl responsible for her mother's death. Okay, she was not DIRECTLY responsible, but close enough. Her living was an issue. This had been covered many, many times before. Isobel had thought over it countless times since the morning before when she had received the haunting news. Her mother was dead, hundreds were dead, one survivor. So maybe her anger was misplaced, but it had to go somewhere. She refused to believe that her mother died with no one to be held accountable. The King was sure there was someone to blame, too. They could not both be wrong, could they? No, of course not. That was just a silly notion she would not bother to entertain.

Servants scurried around the room, a few laying food out for the Princess and her guest. Finally, the dining would commence. Isobel eyed the girl, dangerously similar to the way a predator eyed its prey. She hoped the girl would mess up, almost willed it. If she had a reason to snap at the Elf, she would seize it. Yes, this girl would quickly know what it was like to cross Isobel. Was it fair? No, certainly not. In no way was this girl responsible for any of the events that had transpired the day before. Nothing that happened was her fault. She was lucky just to be alive. Well, as lucky as anyone could be when they angered the Princess.

The food, it was dressed up nicely. It looked beautifully put together. Unfortunately, Isobel was not the least bit hungry. Her grief and animosity overtook any physical desire she had for anything. No, the food would wait. She would busy herself with making the girl uncomfortable. Maybe she would get lucky and the girl would snap back. Oh, a shouting match was just what she needed right now. Someone to yell at her, to give her something to yell back to. Someone needed to be on the receiving end of her anger, and this girl was a perfect target.

Isobel wondered if the girl had ever eaten in the presence of royalty. From the looks of his and the obscurity of her name, she was willing to bet the answer to that was a resounding "no". "Well?" Isobel said, "Is the food not good enough for you? You wanted food, now eat it." Her eyes shifted down toward the food, unappeased. A queasy feeling tugged at her stomach. She really did not want to be here. Lifting her gaze, Isobel surrendered. "Please excuse me," she said, moving from the table and out into the hall. Not yet had she allowed herself to grieve properly. She was not about to start now, but she was going to have to compose herself better if she was going to keep up the charade.