Chapter 4: Colors
This is Olimar e Fayinu.
He is the youngest of four brothers and thus has no real consequence or weight in regard to matters of wealth or rank. Any and all power he possesses lies in his position as Lord of the Hunt, which, really, gives precious little power at all. Any position worth mentioning must be obtained from a member of the royal family, verified by the Senate, and then confirmed by the Grand Archduke.
He is the sort of man who knows exactly what he wants and will do anything to obtain it. His ambition and ruthless drive have gotten him this far. Only one thing can possibly stop him, but it's also his only real chance of true triumph.
He has one fatal flaw, his one weakness. It is not women, money, or luxury; he enjoys these as much as any other man. But the combination of lust with power is a lure he cannot resist. This is why he pursues his princess so. She is nothing but an object to him: a pretty, young, and charming object, but no more than that.
She is what he wants most, and it is that desire that drives him; that desire that he hates more than anything else. That desire is the one thing she could possibly use against him.
***
Reclining on a long chair in his own chambers, Olimar's hazel eyes were fixed on the locket he held loosely in his hand. The locket itself was very simple and plain – a gold drop with no engraved design or other decoration. The oval held two miniature portraits in its windows, and it was the pictures that held his interest. Both were painted in perfect detail, immortalizing each subject.
A mother, breathtakingly beautiful in life, her face captured in painstaking detail.
A daughter, so different from her mother it was startling, a small smile preserved forever in oil paint.
Cool glass.
Soft warmth.
It amazed him every time he saw her face how Princess Evalia didn't look like either of her parents. She hadn't inherited her mother's astonishing beauty or her father's stoic demeanor. She was not plain by any means, but nor was she blessed with her mother's looks. It was blonde hair that rippled like water and shined like moonlight that graced Rimeria's fair head, with skin a perfect porcelain, eyes a dark sapphire blue. Evalia was like fire in comparison, with scarlet red hair and eyes the color of wine, with gilded skin, a tan with more grace than a commoner's dark color.
In the Imperial Court, women with staggering beauty moved higher on the social ladder than those who were simply 'pretty'. In their world of luxury, passion ruled supreme, and no one wielded that as a weapon to her advantage better than a beautiful woman. But the Imperial Heir, the girl who could arguably become one of the most powerful women in history, with vast resources at her command in a land where her word was law, was pretty and charming, but not beautiful.
Why then, did he want her, and not a more attractive lady of the court? This was the real question.
Perhaps it was her grace. She could not sing a proper note, but not one courtier could best the Princess when it came to dance. No matter the form or pattern, she would be able to go through the steps flawlessly an hour into the evening. It was one of the few things she truly talented at, that she could enjoy immensely, and would need to feel no shame. Balls were the joy of the Jewel of the Imperial Court.
Or maybe it was her innocent naivete, believing that the world her brother was striving to create could become reality.
Olimar gritted his teeth as his thoughts turned to the Grand Archduke. Liyal e Telemari was the most radical noble the Empire had seen in decades. He was a firm believer in pacifism, and had argued against Olimar in the debate arena over military expansion.
The Empire thrives on conquest, and this foolish boy has the nerve to say we have no need for more territory?
He also supported the movement to grant divorced women total immunity from their former husbands and to allow them positions back into society, but Olimar knew his motives behind that. It was no secret that the Archduke knew about his stepmother's ill treatment at the hands of her husband, and it had changed his perspective on women marrying for convenience. It was sympathy that drove him, and he had gone so far as to hear a divorced woman's plea for work, and grant her the position as chief maid to the Heir.
To the outside observer, his actions were motivated by pity, not for the sake of doing what was right – or rather, if Olimar himself was the observer. Not that he himself was any better, but at least he didn't deny it.
Everything he did, he did for himself, no one else.
"And you, little flower," he whispered, staring into the eyes of the princess's portrait. "You are not going to stand in my way."
Something in his heart told him that no matter how she looked now, or how she would look on his marriage bed, it would never compare to how beautiful she would be to him with her crimson blood staining the cloth and the light fading from her eyes. He snapped the locket shut and tucked it into his breast pocket. "You cannot avoid me forever."
***
Liyal never worried over law, politics, or his fellow nobles. In fact, there were few things Liyal worried about at all. He certainly never worried about himself. It was always for someone else. He always worried over those close to him.
He worried over Henrietta. She worked long hours as the head of his sister's household which meant she controlled everything. Henri oversaw who worked for the Princess, their uniforms, how many would be in what position, and more, though Liyal would probably become ill if he thought about how far her attentions were spread. But what worried him so had nothing to do with how much she toiled over her job; there was very little he could do to change that. Henri was her own person, and if she enjoyed her work, then he would never interfere.
What concerned him was the more emotional aspect of Henri. She was a wonderful friend and mentor to his sister, and kept an eye on her, for which he was very grateful. There were so many pitfalls in the Imperial Court that there was no possible way Evalia could avoid them, particularly with her trusting nature. Henri was there to steer her through.
It was her relationship with him that worried him.
When had it come to this? Where in the long time we've known each other did it take this turn?
It would overwhelm her, if she knew.
And that was his other worry. He feared that he could not hide it from her for much longer.
He rounded the corner, and caught a glimpse of brown hair, and a familiar frame that always sent a warning coursing through his mind. Olimar. Liyal did not hate him, rather...he hated what the man was capable of.
He was infamous for his secretive nature, and his outbursts of anger and cruelty had trickled through to spark fear in the servants' hearts. But it was his eyes Liyal did not trust. A thin veneer of civility covering something truly malevolent.
It was his hazel eyes, the color itself. His sister's eyes were warm and inviting, Henri's so calm and soothing. His own? Liyal found his eyes to be mystifying. Pale green was a color that made people uncomfortable. He either looked to be blind or, in different lighting, a magical being. But hazel? Hazel was a cross between two colors, never truly one or the other. It was so deceptive...
He opened the door to his study, and approached his desk after making sure the door was locked securely. Sitting down before the window, he stared out over the garden. His sister's garden. Trees and vines, flowers, bushes, a multitude of plants Liyal had never heard of. All of them had been planted by his sister, and cared for by her own hands. The Imperial gardeners were forbidden to touch it. In the spring air, the flowers were in full bloom, throwing out wild splashes of color.
He pulled out a book and a brush, then turned to the next blank page.
My sister leaves for Legacy Springs tomorrow. Rena and Keith are traveling with her, so it is not for her safety I worry. Alantaiya will mourn the temporary loss of its Summer Flower, but even knowing that she will come back, the earth itself feels uneasy. Something is coming, and I know what it is....
Liyal sat up, tapping the brush handle on his mouth, deep in thought. Summer Flower...A flame in the desert, its beautiful rose. Born from water and hatred, destined to love a foreigner the color of deep cold.
I know not how she will meet him, only that he will find her. It is my hope that he can give her the happiness she could not find in these walls. A flower held captive in darkness will wilt and perish, but with a ray of light, will prosper again.
"And here is to hoping he will be that ray of light," he whispered under his breath, meaning every word.
I do not expect him to have no faults. He is not her savior, not like that. How can I expect anything at all from him?
"How indeed..."
She is a delicate flower, one who could be crushed if not handled with the utmost care. She has been that way for her entire life. So fragile, just like the notion of hope in this forsaken capital. And even that is fading.
"But Li and Henri make it better for me. It's because of them, my hope for our people still lives."
He could remember the day he'd met her. His own ray of light.
She'd wandered into the capital on a day of celebration. It was the Spring Equinox, about three years ago. Flowers in her blond hair, and with a nervous smile, she had stood by the other women at the edge of the dancing.
He had merely been passing through the crowd when one of the women had pushed her into the masses. He'd caught her to keep her from being trampled, and when she looked up at him, with her deep green eyes and a blush on her face....he couldn't believe what he was looking at. Inside he'd been stumbling, where he was calm and collected on the outside.
"Why, hello there. May I have this dance?"
He'd taken her by the hand, and after a few attempts at dancing, he'd finally lifted her to stand on his own feet, and he moved for the both of them. All of the bright colors and people blurred in the whirling of the dance pattern. "There, that isn't so hard."
She'd blushed so deeply he was amazed she could keep moving, all the blood seemed to have rushed to her face. Her mouth opened, yet she was so tongue-tied nothing came out.
"You aren't from around here, are you?"
"It is obvious, I know.... I have only been in town for a few days."
"No, no, it isn't terribly obvious." He chuckled. "You look as though you belong, but you have a faint accent."
"Begnion had its fair share of accentors...and fairly colorful people when they used their words."
"So I have heard....." he said, pensive. A full smile crept over his lips. "Surely we are not so different. We can be shameless from time to time," he said while dipping her low from the waist. "And we like to make life a little more interesting than most foreigners can stomach." He pulled her up from the dip, and she was pressed closer to his chest, deepening the fire in her cheeks. "But we are all people, my lady."
"Master Liyal?"
Liyal turned slightly, and shut the book. "Henri."
"What's wrong?"
She knew him so well. He even wore a slight smile, yet she could tell that something was weighing very heavily on his mind. "Nothing, it's.....nothing to do with you, at any rate. Something I've had to live with for a long time." It's nothing that I could tell you.
“But... Why won't you tell me? I deserve to know, don't I?” she said quickly, her green eyes pleading. Inside, Liyal knew that yes, she did deserve to know. To know everything. And she could never know – no one could.
"You have been more than I could have ever dreamed, Henri, but I could never ask it of you. Your healing can't help me this time."
“Maybe I don't have to heal you with magic! If you would just let me help you as a person....maybe I can. Please, Liyal.” Her voice was so incredibly desperate, it tugged at his heart, but...
"And you do not think that is healing? A healer cannot help a dying person on the doorstep to the afterlife, if there is one." He smiled, but it was a smile filled with grief and the burden he bore.
“There is an afterlife! No matter how far you may be gone, do you think it wrong of me to try and follow you if there is but the slightest hope of taking you back?”
She believes I can come back...No. She believes this is something other than what it is."Henri.....do not follow me when you are needed most elsewhere. I....I have everything, but nothing at all. I cannot give you what you want from me."
But you are only twenty four! “ I've lost someone else this way before. You cannot ask it of me to stand idle when I can at least try to save you! Surely you are not this cruel! Please, Liyal, I love you and I won't- Ah!” Her hand covered her mouth, and her face burned scarlet.
Liyal studied her briefly before standing from his desk and walking over to her, and he took her hands from her face, looking down from his height. "...I already knew, Hen, but for you to say it now, I..." His face grew pained. "Now is not the time for that confession, Henri. You don't want to hear it."
“But I do! It is all I have ever wanted to hear from you! I have seen and heard you cry. I have seen you be angry, I have seen and heard you laugh like you are a carefree man. I have seen every side there is to you, simply waiting for when I would hear those words and you tell me that I do not want to?” Her voice was filled with disbelief.
"That I do love you, and cannot give it to you as a free man!" In his eyes there was a brief flash of grief. I have only ever wanted to love you as a free man, free from the eyes, ears, and opinions of others. "My first and only, Henri, that is what you are to me. Complete perfection I never expected to see. And that is why I can't give it to you, it would cause you more pain than you know, to bear the burden of what I feel for you.."
“Burden? It is no burden on me. You must understand that, Liyal, I would walk with you. Be it on the sharpest of knives, or most intense of fires, so long as I know you are there... I can't-. No, Iwon't surrender," she corrected defiantly, her darker eyes flaring.
As much as that made him want to smile, he couldn't bring himself to do so. "That is not your choice, Hen. I can feel it already beginning." It has already begun. All of it.
“Beginning? Wh-What do you mean?”
"Your beginning, Henri. The life we know now, is about to change. Can't you feel it?"
“...I... I'm not ready for this.” Her voice broke as she looked down at the ground, not able to gaze back into those eyes she'd admired for so long. Not for change, I don't want to lose everything.
His touch was gentle as his fingers held her chin and turned her face up. His eyes, normally unreadable, were soft and understanding. "Henri, look at me, please. Have I ever misled you?"
“...No, you haven't. Not ever.” Her voice wavered.
"Then why would I start now?" he asked, his eyes searching. "I have always told you everything, the entire truth, which is more than what I can say for anyone. You know all about me, every little nuance, more than even my sister. Anything you want from me, you can have."
“Promise me you'll still look after your sister." Liyal gave a start and began shaking his head, but she forced him to listen. "She needs you so much, I don't know what she would do without you. What is it you said? Her love is in a faraway place? And that he will seek her out with an unrivaled curiosity? Can we depend on him as we have depended on you?”
"Even more so, Hen. He will not fail you, or me, for that matter. But it is not our expectation that he will seek to fulfil, Henri. And why can I not also look after you?" He smiled warmly, and touched her cheek gently, a lover's gesture.
She flushed pink. “Ha, alright...Don't overextend your limits. Evalia and I do give you a run for your noble money.”
He laughed, a full sound that he was famous for – it endeared him to his people. "Please, Henri. You have not made me run. Trot, yes, but never run. You're the one who did all the chasing, but for what? I don't understand what you see in me." His laughter died, and the fine lines in his face deepened with pain. "There is nothing more than a politician's heart in me, Hen, and that is not right for you."
Henri shook her head. “I see a man who is valiant, and powerful. Even though he never once picked up a weapon, or came into battle. I see a man who fights with his words, his compassion and his heart in order to protect every single life that exists here in this kingdom. I saw a man who could be worth following.”
"....Fights with words, eh? Words are nothing when your death is staring you in the face, and I've had that happen before. Be warned, Henri....do not trust Olimar. And do not let Li near him. That is not a royal command, but a request.....For my love for you, do that for me."
“...I will obey your co- ... request. He will not get near her, and nor will I trust that man. There is an odd aura about him, I...I do not like it.”
Liyal's lip curled slightly with disgust. "It is the eyes....Eye color can tell a lot about a person. I've never trusted hazel eyes...Especially ones that cannot look at me honestly. A deceptive color....He wishes to marry her, you knew that?"
Her face grew pale. “But...he is...so...old.”
"And he does not love her. More than anything, he'd wish her dead," he said in a flat tone, but his eyes flashed in anger and his jaw tightened.
Her blood ran cold. “Dead? But, the kingdom cannot have a male-Oh... Ugh! How deplorable! I....I wish to never think of such vile and...stomach sickening thoughts.” I knew there was something about him, but to think that it ran as deep as...
"It is no secret in the Senate that Olimar wishes to do away with the Empress law of the Empire, and allow a male to rule. Nevermind that the very reason that law was created was to encourage emotion from the Throne. I've always said that women understand human nature better than men ever could.." His eyes smiled.
“That may be true, my Lord. But you are perfectly capable of understanding any and all people, even those in the Imperial Court who...annoy you so greatly. He will not succeed, Liyal. Believe that.”
"If he does not succeed, that will not be my doing, but the foreigner's."
“How did you come to know of this....'foreigner'? Thousands – if not millions of people traveling - come in and out of the Empire every day.”
"My mother spoke of him. She knows who he is."
"Beyond our borders, dear one. Her love is beyond our borders. He will not know her, yet he will seek her with an unrivalled curiosity and a need to understand. He will find her, and will uphold everything you have striven to achieve..."
I believe you, Mother. You have never failed me. You knew you were going to die, you have seen his face, the face of the one I'm praying for.
“....But, how will we know who he is, who we are, and will he even speak the native language? It cannot be so simple as saying: He is the man on the left of the tactitian.”
Life is never simple, Henri.
"My mother has been right about everything. I will not doubt her. We won't know it is him until he has found my sister. He will be the one she loves," he said with a note of finality.
“You're right. ...I am sorry if I insulted the memory of your mother. My doubt was wrongly placed.”
"You never knew her. I'm not even her flesh and blood, yet she treated me as her own son. No offense was taken, Henri. Good night." He smiled again, but did not remove his hand from her face.
“Good night, my lov- excuse me, my Lord.” Her cheeks burned with embarrassment from her slip of the tongue. When had she become so careless with her words?
Liyal had not missed what she had almost succeeded in saying, what he'd waited for, for two long, forsaken years. It had been so long since she had entered his life and came to live here. Every day, he'd said it in his heart whenever he saw her face.
"Maya olia..."
My only love, my soul, the air I breathe, my reason for living.
He leaned down and gently brushed her lips with a soft kiss, holding it long enough to try to make it last, but not nearly long enough to make up for how many days he'd waited for the right time. Of course, he wasn't being smart, but for once...he'd listen to his heart for the first time a decade. "Good night, maya olia. My only."
"My son, there is still much for you to look forward to. Your life will have everything it needs to go to the end."
His large green eyes blinked as he stared up at his mother. She looked out over the water, her hand on her swollen belly. "What d'you mean, Mama?"
"The end is near for all of us. Mine is coming faster, but yours will come, too. Don't worry, little one. Everyone's story has an end. We've been living in a perfect world, you and I. That's all about to change."
"Mama, I don't get it..."
"It is nearly the end, dear one...the end, and the beginning. The death of the day leads to the birth of the night. The end of a perfect life, and the beginning of reality."
"Mama, you're not making sense..."
"When you're older, read "Idyll's End", Liyal."
"You don't like poetry, Mama."
"Just this one. Think of me when you read it. And pray that our Founder who wrote it was wrong about us, and that we won't doom ourselves to a fate worse than death."
