Charyss

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. She had to remind herself of that. They looked so natural here, like it had always been their home. They had her to thank for this new home. Charyss had freed the dragons from the tyranny of the king and allowed them the safety to roam the land rather than hiding in Okarthel Swamp as they’d done for generations.

At least, that’s what she had dreamed last night. Now she had to figure out how to make it come to pass. Obviously she’d need to leave the castle and gain some allies. There had to be someone in this kingdom who hated her father as much as she did, but nobody within the castle would dare admit to such treasonous thoughts.

She took a moment to look around her bedroom for what she hoped would be the last time. It was still fairly dark - she was used to rising with the sun - but the white stone walls made use of what little light was already coming in. She’d miss her bookshelf, even though it was mostly full of propaganda of how great her father was, but it had helped her dream of adventure and life beyond the castle. She’d focus on rebuilding that before working on building up her wardrobe. The people she saw through the castle windows wore plain clothing that looked much more practical for living in, and probably didn’t have nearly so many rules about it. She’d miss that one dress though. Her mother’s dress, that she’d only just grown into last fall.

Charyss had no memory of her mother, but a lot of respect for her. She had to guess that she looked like her, because she and her father only shared their 5’6” stature and the darkness of their hair. He had broad shoulders, while her whole figure was lithe. He had brown eyes to her green. And she hoped to never hear his voice again.

Nobody disobeyed the king. Not by refusing him, nor avoiding him. He had gotten it in his head that he was better than the gods, and therefore to refute him in any way was heresy, a crime punishable by death. Charyss wondered if the rumours were true, if he really had killed a god on the night he met her mother.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Vasilysia, her maid, quietly rapping on the door and creaking it open. “Highness,” she said in her usual quiet-but-authoritative manner, “I’ve been instructed to make sure you’re ready to entertain guests this morning.”

“Guests? I didn’t-” Charyss started confusedly as she sat up in bed.

Vas crossed the room and tore the covers off. “Last-minute plans, His Majesty said. Only just heard of them myself, else I’d’ve already pulled out something for you to wear.” Charyss would miss Vasilysia, the only person she’d ever considered a ‘friend’, if she understood the concept correctly. She looked her over, trying to commit Vas to memory. It hadn’t been long since Charyss had grown taller than her, and Charyss still thought of Vas as the taller. She kept her auburn hair neatly plaited in a single braid. Charyss wondered how different her life would have been if she was born the daughter of a servant rather than the king. Her hands would have calluses, sure, but she could handle that. Charyss wished she could take Vas with her, but she wasn’t entirely sure where Vas’ loyalties lay, and she couldn’t afford any unnecessary risks.

“Your highness?” Vas was saying.

“Sorry, what was that?” Charyss realised she’d missed some conversation.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, of course. I’d just… been hoping to relax this morning. But what were you saying?”

“Would you prefer the red or the teal gown?” Vas asked, holding them up in the morning sun, now pouring through the window.

It all seemed so trivial, Charyss wanted to scream. What does it matter what dress I wear? Nobody will care, even by tomorrow! But this was her life. This was her every day. The biggest choices she ever made were what gems to buy for jewellery and what colour dress she’d like.

“Which do you prefer?” she asked Vas, who turned the dresses towards herself to look them over.

“I think the teal brings out your eyes, and the red one better suits your shape,” was Vas’ diplomatic reply.

“Red, then.” Charyss stood as Vas helped her into the crimson velvet piece with white lace around the cuffs and neckline. She hated this dress and couldn’t wait to be rid of it, but it was her father’s favourite, and she couldn’t risk angering him yet. Vas got out the jewels that best suited the dress and Charyss sat down, ready to be preened.

“Vas, what do you know of my mother? Did you ever meet her?”

“You know I can’t tell you that,” the maid said quietly, as she carefully pinned hair over Charyss’ slightly pointed ears. Charyss hated her ears, but loved them at the same time. They showed her for what she was - a half-elf - which meant her father forced her to keep them hidden. It was all so much work. Well, she just had to sit still, but then she had to be careful not to touch her hair, which was still a nervous habit.

When she was dressed and ready, Charyss headed toward the bedroom door, but then stopped.

“Is something wrong, your highness?”

Charyss turned and hugged her servant tightly, whispering as she did, “Thank you.”

Vas stood still, stunned, and Charyss turned and left.

Charyss hated her father. Everyone she talked to said he doted on her, but she knew from the look in his eyes that the hatred was mutual. He scorned her. She wasn’t supposed to exist. She was, to put it nicely, illegitimate. She didn’t know much of the story, but had gleaned some details over the years.

The king and his men had been on a hunting trip in the Eskataure Forest about eighteen years ago when they came across a she-elf and a wolf. It was snowing pretty hard that day, so by the time they noticed each other the king’s party was almost on top of the wolf and elf. The king took it into his head to rescue the elf from the wolf, despite the elf’s protests. The wolf turned on Zharic, teeth bared. The snow turned to hail, but that didn’t deter the king. He shot the wolf straight through the eye, but it didn’t falter. He pulled out his sword. The sky grew dark and thunder rumbled. The wolf lunged. The king plunged his sword into the wolf and sliced. The storm stopped. From the wolf radiated a bright light. King Zharic had killed the goddess Haylle.

He then turned to the elf, who was weeping on her knees, and he expected a word of thanks. Instead, she spat at him. Enraged, the king demanded that she be brought back to the castle and thrown into the dungeons. Nine months later, she bore Charyss, the king’s daughter. He, knowing his blood ran in her veins, would not let any physical harm befall her, but Charyss knew that her face resembled her mother’s, and the insolence of her spitting in his face still haunted him to this day.

She had never learned her mother’s name.

The farthest out of the royal house Charyss had ever been allowed to go was onto the balcony that overlooked the frozen city of Wintreight, so she could wave at the people and pretend that she and her father were a happy family. She often wondered how true her books were. Obviously King Zharic was strong if he had managed to kill a goddess, but did his people actually love him? How could anyone?

Zharic, Charyss knew, had no real need for love, or for an heir. When he killed Haylle, he absorbed some of her power. One of the effects was that he had stopped aging. He fully intended to live forever, so what good would an heir do him? No, Charyss was more of a pet than anything. He’d display her to show off what a good father he was, and then send her back to her cage until he needed her again. Then she was free to roam the inside of the castle, apart from certain doors that always remained locked.

Charyss often had dreams where she ran with the wolves, the very creatures her father hated. She ran with them, and was one of them, and was loved. These dreams of freedom pushed her to forge her plan of escape.

The guests that were being entertained were her father’s head wizards and their wives. Charyss was expected to play hostess to the wives while her father talked business with the wizards. She hated the wives. The small talk among them was always the same. “Your dress is lovely, dear,” “Oh I wish my husband would buy me such nice gems like your father does,” “How ever do you get your hair to stay in that shape?”

As she walked up, one was saying “... should be outlawed, you know, tracking dirt into my house like that! And sweating! And he didn’t even have the decency to apologise! Oh, hello dear!” They all looked up as she joined the group in a drawing room. “I was just telling the others about the expansion my husband ordered to have put on our house, and how terribly disrespectful the workers are being while doing so!”

“What’s the expansion for?” Charyss asked.

“Oh, I don’t know. Another alchemy lab, probably. Though I don’t know why he needs it.”

Charyss forced a smile and nodded and tried to let the conversation flow over her as she thought of different ways to get out of the castle. The main gate was always heavily guarded, and the servants’ entrance was too busy. Everybody on staff seemed to know that she wasn’t allowed out of the castle for any reason. She could try to disguise herself, but then she’d need to find a disguise. If her bedroom wasn’t on the fourth floor, she’d consider opening her window and jumping.

She sent up a silent prayer to Bria, goddess of chaos. Please, she said, help me out. I need some distraction or-

“What do you think, dear?”

“Sorry, what was that?”

“What, weren’t you listening? I said the maids keep complaining about how difficult it is to get smoke fumes out of my husband’s robes, and I think I ought to fire someone, just to remind them not to talk to me like that!”

“Oh, well, smoke does linger,” Charyss said noncommittally.

“Yes, but that’s not the point, is it? I can’t have servants who complain about their work, can I? It’s dreadful to listen to them whining all day, and there are always dozens more asking to be hired who’d be grateful for the opportunity.”

“That’s true, I suppose.” Charyss was still rather distracted and, quite honestly, not invested in the conversation.

“You suppose? What, do your servants come in whining about having to work all day?”

“Well, no…”

“Exactly! So why, then, should mine?” The speaker sat proudly in her chair, looking rather triumphant. Charyss realised she couldn’t even remember her name. She was about to loose her tongue rather rudely on the woman, but a servant unknowingly cut her off, announcing that lunch was ready to be served and would the ladies please pass through to the dining room.

The men were already seated in the dining room when the ladies joined. They had the far end of the table, so the ladies took the near end. Bria, give me strength. Not that strength was Bria’s thing, but it wasn’t any one god’s thing, and Charyss defaulted to Bria when there wasn’t a specific god for the job.

“Your necklace looks lovely today, by the way, dear,” one of the other wives said to Charyss.

“Thank you. I like your gown.”

“It’s my latest! You really like it?” The dress in question was pale yellow with gaudy bits of lace all over it, looking like they’d been pasted on by a blind otter.

“It’s lovely,” Charyss smiled, or hoped that was what she was doing. These dullards were always so self-absorbed and stuck on such trivial details.

The servants came around with the food. It was roast pheasant. Charyss had always hated pheasant. With how today was going, she almost decided to delay her departure until Amra didn’t have her back turned. But Amra, god of luck, had always had her back turned, hadn’t she? She certainly hadn’t shown Charyss much favour over the years. No, today was the day. She couldn’t bear to put it off any longer. Maybe she could sneak down through the servants’ entrance once everyone was asleep. Or tie her dresses and bedsheets together to make a rope and climb out her window. Or-

“Really, dear. Again?” The wife who’d been complaining about servants earlier was trying to get Charyss’ attention again.

“I’m sorry?”

“Where is your head going? You mustn’t have that much to think about!”

“I’m… sorry?”

“Only this is the second time already that I’ve asked your opinion on a matter and found you hadn’t been listening to me, and that’s really not very polite, you know.”

Charyss was not used to being publicly berated by anyone. Even her father only did so in private. Her stomach tensed, and her head started to pound. She tried to regain control of the situation. “I’m sorry,” she said again, this time curtly. “What was the matter?”

“Oh, well I was wondering if you think a pear cut or an oval cut suits me better for earrings? Elandre said pear, but Juille said oval, so you’d have the tie-breaking vote.”

“Oh, Sameye, hush! You know you oughtn’t talk to her like that! She’s the princess!” Elandre, the one in the yellow dress, cried out quietly.

“No, it’s alright,” Charyss lied. The words, not to mention her noticed distraction, had actually bothered her quite a lot, but best not to get riled. “Pear cut, I think,” she said, without putting any thought into it. Sameye would probably choose oval just to spite her after today. The joke would be on her, though; Charyss wouldn’t be around to take offence.

“Oh, but what about marquis, Sameye?” Juille put in, “I’m sure you could pull those off well!”

“I’m not asking what I can pull off, Juille. I’m asking what would look best. I know I can pull off anything.” There was a frustrated edge to Sameye’s voice. She glared at Charyss. “And I don’t think you actually care.”

The other two gasped at this obvious breach of etiquette. Charyss didn’t flinch. Juille turned to Sameye and Elandre to Charyss, trying to calm both parties down, but Charyss was done.

“You’re right,” she said simply. “I don’t.” She stood up to leave, and her father looked up from his conversation and glared at her, practically daring her to not sit right back down.

She was sick of these sycophants always commenting on how lovely she looked and not even realising she was a trophy. She had an escape to get to, and couldn’t be bothered to make pleasant conversation for another minute.

“You like this necklace? Take it!” She turned to Elandre and yanked the necklace from around her neck, breaking the cord. “The matching earrings too!” She ripped them out of her ears, not feeling the pain in her fury.

“Charyss!” Zharic called sternly down the table.

“No! I won’t be your puppet any more!” she screamed at him.

Zharic stood up and waved his hand. Charyss turned, and found a guard standing directly in front of her. The guard tried to grab her gently but she was not going down without a fight. One of the mages uttered something and the room started to spin.

As she blacked out, she heard her father say “I’m terribly sorry for that outburst of hers. I can assure you, it will not….”

And everything stopped.