Vision Of Escaflowne Fan Fiction ❯ The D files: Dryden's Story ❯ Age 7: Annette ( Chapter 1 )

No we don't own Escaflowne. Somehow we can't get italics to show up so please note text between ~ is SUPPOSED to be italicized.

-RahS

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~Girls are fun.

Most times the other boys don't think so. They say they're too worried about getting hurt, keeping clean, and looking pretty to really be that much fun. I agree with that. But, there's something indescribably satisfying about hearing a girl shriek when a prank has gone just right. It's still fun when it's a boy, but it pales in comparison with a girl's squeal. A boy's yell isn't nearly as anguishe~

My quill scratched dry on the parchment. Automatically, I dipped the pen into the inkwell on my desk. Unfortunately, I was so eager to continue writing that I used much more force than was necessary, jabbing the pen rather than dipping it. Ink flew, and the small glass bottle tipped, partially emptying its contents before I could right it.

I sighed. Splatters of black peppered my face, hands, shirtfront, and desktop. Not only had I managed to make a mess, I had also managed to dent the pen tip. Wiping my stained hands on to my trousers, I squinted at the damaged quill ruefully as I tried to decide if it was salvageable. At least the pages of my book had managed to escape the spray of ink.

I was scanning my crowded desktop for a cleaning rag to wipe things up when I heard a knock at the door. "Come in," I replied without bothering to look up.

"Well, you're not going to have much of a profit margin if you keep that up. The ink costs alone--"

A tall girl in her late teens leaned casually with her arms crossed against the door frame. Brown eyes twinkling in amusement, she grinned at me.

"Nette!"

I bounded over the piles of clutter on the floor and catapulted myself into her arms in welcome.

"Ooof-- getting a bit heavy there, Denny."

"It's so good to see you! When did you get here? Where've you been? How long are you staying?"

"Whoa, whoa, one question at a time." Nette smiled indulgently at me and pinched my cheeks, which she knew I hated. I didn't mind though. Annette was by far my favorite cousin, and it was always a treat to be around her, especially since she was traveling more frequently for longer durations now.

We were Fassas -- a family of some importance. We lived in Palas, the capital of Asturia, which had been home to the Fassas for several generations. Ours was a merchant family, one of hundreds of mercantile families, conglomerations, and networks located in the city, which was known all around Gaia as THE center of commerce. However, our family had an international presence that, as my father often liked to say, "eclipsed the competition." Although we were headquartered here, we also had trading houses and offices all over Asturia and in most major cities outside the country as well.

One of the reasons for our success was strong family ties. Another was that the family had been blessed with sharp, bright sons with an almost inbred instinct for business and beautiful, talented daughters, who became the pillars of society. Between the ingenuity of the Fassa men and the influence of the Fassa women, the family fortunes grew exponentially as each generation passed.

By the time I came along, it was pretty much established that any male born into the Fassa household was destined to take a role in the mercantile business. By age 15, we were expected to be ready to participate in the family business. The early years of our careers would be spent traveling the various trade routes of our import/export business and rotating through the family's trading centers. Hundreds of miles and years of experience later, each man would settle down to take ownership in a particular trade route or office, with the most talented, influential, and experienced ones located in the capital.

As for the girls, they would be groomed from a very early age to be major actors in the stage known as high society. All variety of tutors and teachers were lavished upon the Fassa daughters to mold them into ladies unsurpassed in wit, charm, style, and grace. They were well versed in art and philosophy, knowledgeable in history and culture, had impeccable taste, and had keen insight into the intrigue that always played in the shadows of the spotlight.

"What the--Dryden Fassa! You are getting ink all over me!" In my excitement, I had forgotten about the black stains on my hands and clothes. Nette's voluminous brown merchant's robes bore dark smudges from my greeting.

I was immediately contrite. "Ooops...sorry, Nette, it's just I was so glad--"

"That's OK," she said, waving off the rest of my apology. "It's been awhile since I got this old thing cleaned anyway." It was true. The fabric was dusty and smelled of pack animals and spices, sawdust and smoke--smells of travel, smells I loved.

As with any rule, there is always an exception. And in our family, Annette was just that--though technically she was a Callen and not a Fassa. Her grandfather, Grigorio Fassa, a first cousin to my grandfather, had been a brilliant businessman, who was characterized by a domineering manner which manifested itself in all his relationships, public and private. He demanded loyalty and unquestioning obedience. Therefore, he did not take it too kindly when his only daughter, Nette's mother, rejected all of the suitors he had handpicked for her in favor of a son of a small-time contractor. When she eloped, Grigorio immediately disowned her.Despite his wife's and three sons' efforts to mollify him, the old man was hard and unrelenting in his decision. However, three years later, he suffered a staggering blow. A merciless group of bandits attacked a leviship port in Daedalus. It was a disaster. Tragically for Gregorio, his three sons were caught in the slaughter. They were killed along with their wives and all their children. Gregorio's wife collapsed upon hearing the news and died two days later. Utterly bereaved, he suffered a near-complete emotional breakdown.

A week later, he received word that his daughter was also dead, a victim of an epidemic in the village where she had relocated. The illness had also claimed her husband, but her child Annette, hitherto unknown to him, had survived.

Gregorio lost no time in locating the orphan and obtaining legal custody of his remaining descendant. The moment he first laid eyes on her and took her into his arms a remarkable transformation took place. The man of iron melted, leaving in its place a loving, doting grandfather. It was as if all the affection that he had dammed up and denied his family over the years burst out to be lavished upon this one last precious grandchild. Gregorio all but retired in order to devote his full attention to his new charge. Annette, for her part, adored her grandfather. He was her world, and the two were inseparable.

As she grew older, her curiosity was piqued by the business that so dominated the family's affairs. When she asked Gregorio to teach her about what her boy cousins were learning, he readily agreed, as every Fassa had to have at least a rudimentary understanding of the family's livelihood. However, her unflagging interest and her aptitude for the material made it clear that this was more than just a passing fancy of hers. Although it was unusual for a girl to want to delve so deep into the subject, he was delighted. His work no longer consumed his life as it once had, but the mercantile business was still a passion of his, and he was pleased that his granddaughter shared that passion. Eventually, he taught her everything he knew, not an inconsiderable amount by any means.

When Annette came of age, she made up her mind that she wanted to follow in her grandfather's footsteps. The roles of patroness of the arts, socialite, and philanthropist which the other Fassa girls chose were simply not for her. Her grandfather, who could deny her nothing, supported her in her decision. Though he had his concerns, he was proud of the talent he saw in his grandchild and wanted to see her fulfill her potential. So, a week after making an obligatory appearance at Palas' debutante ball with the other 15-year-old maidens being introduced to the Asturian elite, Annette Fassa-Callen and two of her male cousins boarded a leviship to begin their training in the Fassa mercantile business.

Needless to say, Annette caused a stir in the Fassa clan. Opinion among the women were mixed. The men, however, were nearly unanimous in their dislike of the breach of tradition. However, Gregorio, who held considerable influence in the family, saw to it that Annette was not unduly harassed and received the same treatment and training as her peers.

Now, it was pretty much accepted that she was in the business and she was there to stay. Though most of our uncles disliked acknowledging her presence among their ranks, they were businessmen first and foremost and begrudgingly recognized her contributions. Father was of the opinion that Nette was daft, and would isolate me from any knowledge of her if he could. However, Nette was a favorite of my mother, who encouraged our interactions.

"Come here." She whipped out a kerchief and began to wipe my hands and face vigorously.

"Ow, hey! Not so hard!"

"Wouldn't have to if you were neater with your writing. Good night, Denny! What kind of merchant are you going to make if you can't even write properly? Any self-respecting merchant worth his weight is always ready to make a good impression and that's not going to happen for you if you're always ink splotching your sleeves black."

"Hmpf--wouldn't be a problem if the sleeves weren't so big and loose. Why do we have to wear such a floppy thing anyway?"

"Oho! Denny questions the practicality of the esteemed habayah. Maybe this will convince you," Nette replied, stepping out of my doorway and into the spacious hallway. Lifting her arms gracefully, she pirouetted swiftly, once, then twice. The folds of her robes flared out, billowing in the air. As the fluttering fabric fell back into place, I saw that she had rotated back to face me with a purse, her passport, a dagger, and a scroll, all of which she had seemingly pulled out of nowhere, in her hands.

Impressed, I clapped my hands.

"When you're out in the world, you've got to be prepared and ready," she declared with a showman's air.

Personally, I liked Nette, and I was glad she liked me. I was 8, an only child, and I had no agemates within the Fassas. All my cousins are either infants or older by 10 years or more. Babies were okay, but I couldn't really play with them so that left me with my older cousins. The men were kind of dull. They just liked to eat, smoke, and talk about making money. The women were a little more interesting. Sometimes they would accompany Mother and me to the bazaar, a literary meeting, or a concert. But Nette was the most fun. She was a great storyteller. I loved hearing about all the places that she traveled to with our cousins. She regaled me with vivid accounts of the different people and customs they encountered. Hearing her talk, in contrast to the men, one would think that she had been sent to a completely different place than they had. Plus, although she had a no-nonsense attitude towards work and held to high standards, she had a goofy side as well, and she did not find it beneath her to joke and play around with me.

"Nette, show me how to do that," I begged, as she bowed with a flourish.

"Hmmm.... perhaps. However, a little bird told me that you were in deep, deep trouble, and perhaps not deserving of such an honor," she replied, tapping me rather sharply on the head with her passport.

I grimaced. Oh yeah... that. I stared sheepishly at my shoes.

" I come here to finish up some business with your father and hoping to have a nice visit with you and Aunt Cassia, and find him--I've never seen anyone so angry! Denny--I'm almost afraid to ask--what on Gaia did you to do to get him in such a state?!"

Despite the reprimanding look she gave me and my bruised backside, still smarting from my father's belt, a smile tugged at the corners of my mouth as I relayed to her what had happened earlier.

* *---*****

"Hey, look! It's out! It's out!"

"It's funny looking. I'm not so sure that--"

" Will you hush up and wait!? It's spent the last few weeks cooped up in its cocoon so of course it's going to need a moment to--"

"Hey, Dryden! Take a look at that!"

"Indigo... I do believe those are wings!"

"Butterfly!"

"No, Millerna. Don't grab at it--you'll hurt it!"

"Butterfly! Butterfly!"

"Well, that does it. If Millie says it's a butterfly, it is a butterfly."

We were in Tanglewood. It was a vineyard on the outskirts of the capital that served as a retreat for the royal family. An invitation had been extended to me and a few other children, and we had spent the week there with the princesses, their aunt and uncle, and their two cousins.

The six of us gazed, spellbound, at the butterfly that had just emerged out of its cocoon and was spreading its colorful wings for the first time. Well, five of us were gazing at any rate. Indigo looked more like she was sulking.

One of the best things about being tutored with Princess Eries and her cousin Indigo was that I had access to the Royal Libraries. And it was at the Royal Biology Collection that I found the tome describing the transformation of caterpillar to butterfly. I was so intrigued that I was determined to find a chrysalis so I could watch the butterfly emerge from it when I came out here to the countryside.

My agemates were naturally curious what I came back from roaming the garden with five specimens that I was certain matched the illustrations in my book. Indigo had taken one look at the brown, shriveled up pods and sneered at me. She didn't think it possible that anything as beautiful as a butterfly could come from something so unsightly.

Most of the time I got along just fine with Indigo, but she had a tendency to be bossy and put on airs--you would think that she was the princess instead of her cousins. It irked me to have her deriding me on no basis other than her sensibilities. We squabbled fiercely. Eries, Trevor, and Thor, not sure of whom to believe, kept out of it.

Over the last few days, I kept watch over the cardboard box holding the five very dormant chrysalises. And as the days passed, Indigo had become progressively more and more biting in her remarks. I had nearly despaired that the butterflies, if they indeed were there, would ever come out.

However, this morning I was finally justified. I awoke to find four of the cocoons empty, and one just starting to emerge. Luckily for me, the time it took to wriggle out was more than enough for me to gather the others so that we could witness its emergence.

The butterfly pumped its gorgeous, iridescent wings slowly, eliciting excited shrieks from Millerna, who was squirming in Eries' arms. After a minute, it flitted up into the air and through the open window of the guest room I shared with Trevor. "Too bad Marlene couldn't have seen it," said Eries as it winged its way out of sight. Yesterday, Lady Miriam had taken the older children with her to Dunhaven, which was holding its yearly wine festival. We younger children had been left behind supposedly under the supervision of Prince Nueva, who remained sound asleep despite all the racket we had made that morning. Lady Miriam and company were to return later today so that we could depart for Palas together this afternoon.

I turned my gaze over to Indigo, who was chewing on her lower lip. She hated being proved wrong. However, if she was to be the "lady" she aspired to be, she was going to have to apologize graciously to me, and we both knew it. I flashed a triumphant smirk. The others quieted down to watch our exchange.

"Well, Dryden, I guess you were right about butterflies coming out of--those things," Indigo said huffily, waving towards the now empty brown casings.

If she thought she was going to get off with just that, she was completely wrong. "And?"

"And I apologize for saying all those things about you being a dummy and a stupid-head," she mumbled.

Not good enough, I thought. I was about to press on for additional retribution when Thor piped up, "Hey Dryden, what's that?" He pointed to the biology book that I had brought with me. I had left it open to the page on the metamorphosis of butterflies, but he was pointing to the page opposite it.

"That's a tadpole," I replied.

"What pole?" asked Thor, who was only looking at the illustrations and completely ignoring the text.

"Not a _pole_. It's a tadpole. See, that's its name right here," I explained, pointing at the words. "Or you can call it a polliwog."

"Who's Polly? Looks like funny fish." To say that Thor was as dumb as dirt would have been a horrible insult--to the dirt. And it wasn't just that he had trouble reading either. Things had to be explained to him several times before it would finally "stick" in his brain. This disparity between us was a never-ending source of frustration for our tutors; on one extreme were Eries and myself, who were leaps and bounds ahead of other students our age, and on the other end of the spectrum was Thor. Despite his academic shortcomings, he was extremely good-natured and easy tempered, and it was impossible for any of us not to like him.

"Tadpoles are not fish," I replied and launched into a short and simple explanation about the life cycle of frogs. I liked learning, gathering information and reading through books, but I liked being able to pass it on to an interested audience even more.

"And so," I concluded, "you can't always assume a creature is going to have the same characteristics all of its life. Tadpoles can only swim, but when they change to frogs, they can be on water and land. Just like caterpillars can't fly until they become butterflies."

"Well," sniffed Indigo, "at least caterpillars change into something pretty. Tadpoles change to frogs, but frogs stay ugly frogs after that."

My eyebrow twitched slightly in annoyance--she always did have to make some comment even if it provided no added value to the conversation. The fact that I hadn't completely forgiven her did not help. But her words sparked a brilliant idea into my head-for revenge.

"True, true--for most frogs anyway..." I replied mysteriously.

"What do you mean?" asked Thor..

I lowered my voice so the others had to lean in close to listen. "Last night, I was in the villa library, and I found this old book about the history of this valley. Turns out that a long time ago, there was a witch --"

"Witch?!" echoed Trevor.

"Yeah, an EVIL witch that had all sorts of magic powers. She waged a war against a king from a far off country. After many battles, the king, his son, and their knights were finally able to vanquish the witch's army. At the last minute, the witch escaped and went running from the battlefield. But the prince saw her running away and pursued her."

"What happened?" asked Trevor excitedly.

"The prince chased her for days across rivers and forests." The other children, even Millerna, were completely spellbound. Even I was getting carried away by my own story. "Finally, the prince cornered her by the Scythe Crags."

"Ssss--whaa??" Thor's tongue stumbled over the unfamiliar word.

"Scythe Crags. That's the name of those rocky hills that come right up to the edge of the vineyard."

"Go on, go on," prompted Trevor, eager for the rest. He thrived off these types of stories. Trevor's granduncle was a Knight Caeli, and his father was part of the king's honor guard. Trevor had every intention of following in his family's proud tradition. When he wasn't playing at swords, he was learning about the ideals of chivalry and hearing about the lore of knights. He was eating up my story like chocolate covered ice cream.

"Without anywhere to run, the witch made her last stand against the good prince. The final fight was fierce and the prince defeated the witch. But not before she was able to cast one final curse on the prince."

Slowly and dramatically, I declared, "The witch turned the prince into a frog."

"EWWWW!!!" My audience gasped in unison.

"Yes," I continued, heaviness in my voice. "The brave, handsome prince was turned into a frog. Although you could tell him apart from the other frogs because he had a crown-shaped yellow marking on his head (he was a prince, after all). Plus, he could still understand people even if he could only croak."

"It was devastating for him. He was a hero and a monarch, yet he was trapped in the body of a small, slimy animal. He was driven into the depths of despair. A few days after the final battle with the witch, he left his retinue and disappeared into the woods because he was too ashamed to stay with people."

"That's so sad..." said Indigo, despondently. After a pause, she snapped, her brown eyes darkened to nearly black with anger, "Why are you telling us such a sad story, Dryden!" Indigo was the type of person who liked her stories romantic and with the ending "happily ever after."

"Wait, wait--I'm not done yet! Days after the prince disappeared, a good wizard who was familiar with all sorts of magic learned about what had happened, and he declared that there was a way to turn the prince back into a man. When the king heard that, he sent all his men back to search for his son--"

"--but he was nowhere to be found."

"Dryden, that's STILL awful !" Indigo wailed.

"I'm getting to the best part. Listen!" Despite her annoyance, she complied. "After I read that, I remembered that earlier that day, when we were swimming with Prince Nueva, I could have sworn I saw a frog--with a yellow crown mark on his head!"

Suddenly everyone was speaking excitedly at once. "The prince!?" "Duh! What do you think?!" "All right!" "Oh!" "So we can find him and change him back!" "Let's go!" "Wait! We don't have a wizard. We can't change him back."

"We don't need one."

The other children looked at me quizzically. "The wizard said that the way to break the spell and turn him back to a handsome young man was if a beautiful lady were to kiss the frog prince."

Silence.

Honestly? Yes, I had been reading an old book from the villa library last night. And it told about a frog prince. However, it had been a book of tales from the Mystic Moon, and not a book on local history. I had merely edited it a little to suit my own purposes. As for the yellow crowned frog, I had seen it as well--it was just one of several species of frogs that inhabited the villa pond. It was a detail I was certain I could get away with. I doubted that Trevor had ever seen a frog up close. He had been traumatized by a near drowning incident when he was a toddler and had a intense phobia as a result. He took great pains to distance himself from any and all bodies of water. It was so bad, he would only step into a bathtub if it was half full or less. Thor simply was not a details type of person; even if he had seen a frog with a yellow crown on its head, I doubt that it would be filed away in his memory. As for the girls, they were too skittish around creepy, crawly, slimies to ever really study them.

This was the turning point, whether or not they would fall for my frog prince fabrication or not. For me to say something was from a book was persuasion enough for Millerna and Thor. Trevor was all pumped up and ready to run out and aid his fellow crusader against evil. Indigo was not quite as enthusiastic. She was vulnerable to romantic fantasies, but she seemed slightly uncertain. Probably because of the frog kissing part and probably because the story was coming from me. However, if all the others believed it, Indigo would fall into line as well. If not, my attempt to get back at her would fall flat.

That meant that the linchpin was...

"Well, what are we waiting for?" said Eries. "It's a rather forward way of introducing yourself to someone, but if he's likely to propose to you anyway..."

"Hey, who said that you were going to kiss him!" Indigo exclaimed indignantly.

A brief catfight ensued. We boys held our tongues as Eries and Indigo argued heatedly over who was most worthy to kiss the frog prince. It ended with an angry "FINE, you kiss him!" from Eries.

Giddy at the prospect of freeing a handsome prince from a magical spell, Indigo yelled, "C'mon, let's go!" She and Trevor charged out for the pond with Thor close behind.

Eries followed albeit more slowly. With her aunt and Marlene away, she was responsible for Millerna, whose short legs hindered their pace. I lagged behind on the pretense of helping Millerna negotiate the flight of stairs to the ground floor, but I had seen the look on Eries' face after Indigo, Trevor, and Thor had dashed out. I could tell that Eries wasn't disappointed at all. With Eries holding one of Millerna's chubby hands and me taking the other, we slowly went down the stairs step by step.

"' History and Legends of the Mystic Moon' doesn't sound like your type of book," murmured Eries as we descended.

I puffed out my chest. "I like to think of myself as a Renaissance man, a man of all knowledge--you never know what kind of information might come in handy," I said, grinning. Eries pretended to be seized by a sudden set of coughing to hide her laughter.

"So what's your story Eries?" I asked. "I thought for certain that you would let the cat out of the bag if you suspected."

"What cat?" piped Millerna.

"Dryden's just talking silly, darling. Don't pay any attention to him."

We reached the bottom of the stairs and released Millerna to scamper after the others. Once she was out of earshot, Eries said quietly, more to herself than me, "It's bad enough when Marlene calls me that horrid name. I don't see why Indigo has to start, too." With that she set off after Millerna. "Hurry up, slow poke! We've a prince to find!" she yelled.

I was surprised. Unlike me, Eries was not inclined to participate in any sort of mischief. Her calm temperament and responsible nature saw to that. Normally, anyway. "I guess even Eries has her moments," I thought as I raced to the pond.

The "horrid name" she was referring to was "Elf." Not a particularly bad name. The other boys and I have called each other much, much worse. However, coming from a sister like Marlene and a cousin like Indigo, I could see how much that would wound. Marlene and Millerna had inherited Queen Therese's flawless features, and Lavender and Indigo had inherited Lady Miriam's equally remarkable beauty. The four cousins were like a stunning set of golden- and ebony-haired porcelain dolls. And then there was Eries. In their company, she looked painfully unremarkable. Well, not completely unremarkable. Her ears were pretty big for her thin, angular face. It was pretty obvious why Marlene used this particular word when she completely blew up at her younger sister.

I felt a twinge of sympathy for Eries. But I also made a mental note to exercise extreme caution if I were ever to try to pull the wool over her eyes. What she didn't have in looks, she more than made up in intelligence and perception. She was the most likely to see through any prevarications I could conjure.

By the time I reached the pond, Thor had already stripped down to his knickers and was wading into the pond. Trevor hung back on the bank of the pond, but to his credit, he was much closer to the edge than he had ever ventured before as he scanned the rushes and lily pads for signs of the yellow-crowned frog. Indigo had settled onto the grass. She was preening herself, rearranging the pink velvet bows in her long raven hair and adjusting her frilly, lacy linen dress in anticipation of her introduction to her prince. Eries was preoccupied with keeping Millerna from following Thor into the pond.

I tossed off my suede jerkin and linen shirt, unbuckled my heavy leather shoes, yanked off my striped socks, and rolled up my trouser legs as far as they would go.

"Any sign of him?" I yelled as I stepped into the cold water.

"No. I don't see-wait!" Thor suddenly plunged into deeper water. His bright chestnut head dipped briefly underwater and then he surfaced, sputtering, "I saw him, I saw him!"

"Where?!"

"Good job, Thor!"

"Froggy! Froggy!"

"Millerna, come back here!"

I smiled. This was going to be fun.

*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*

Ten minutes later, Thor and I pulled ourselves out of the pond, with frog in hand. Although Thor was much stronger and a better swimmer than me, he lacked the finesse necessary to capture the amphibian, and I was ultimately the one to make the catch. As Thor and Trevor whooped triumphantly, I pulled a clean handkerchief from my jerkin pocket and wrapped the frog in it. The others gathered in close as I approached Indigo and, kneeling before her, presented the frog as grandly as a jeweled crown.

Indigo's brown eyes widened slightly. I could tell she was having second thoughts. Quickly, before she could voice her indecision, I announced like a herald at a ball, "My prince, may I present to you the lovely and virtuous Lady Indigo, who will free you the malevolent spell that has bound you all these years."

With an introduction like that, Indigo couldn't resist playing her part.

She took the frog from my hands.

*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*

The shriek of dismay that followed was pure music to my ears. It was indescribable, that smug feeling of ultimate satisfaction.

Pity it only lasted about a split second.

Aghast at the realization that she had just laid lips on a disgusting frog, Indigo flung the hapless animal away from herself and , screeching and sobbing, started running for the villa. Unfortunately, in her haste to retreat, she slammed right against Trevor, who lost his footing and fell-right into the pond.

From the way he howled, you would have thought he was in hot lava instead of water.

Meanwhile, the frog had flown-right into Eries' left eye. I don't think I'd ever heard such a horrified sound from Eries before. Although the impact was enough to blacken her eye, the frog amazingly landed unhurt and retreated for the relative safety of the pond, as Eries collapsed, sobbing, onto the grass.

Despite her older sister's obvious distress, Millerna deemed it more imperative to give chase to the frog. With shrill cries of "Froggy! Froggy!" she-- shoes, stockings, pinafore and all-- followed the creature right into the pond.

Bewildered by the combination of Millerna's delighted squeals, Eries' sobs, and Trevor's screams, Thor looked at me, uncertain of what was happening and not knowing what to do next.

Oops….

I guess this is what they mean by getting more than you bargained for.

*&*&*&*&*&*&*'

Nette's expression was a bizarre mixture of mirth and horror as I concluded my narrative. She gaped speechless at me for several moments and then closed her eyes and shook her head slowly. "Denny, Denny, Denny--" she murmured in disbelief.

"What?! What?! I know it was bad of me to make up the story, but it wasn't like I threw the frog at Eries. And if Trevor just had had enough sense to STAND UP-" Nette cut off my protests with a wave of her hand.

Eyes still closed, Nette pressed one hand to her forehead, "And what exactly happened to you afterwards?"

"Well, Prince Nueva switched me. Then when we got home, Father let me have it."The lashes on my rear end stung at the memory. "Then I got sent up to my room to think about what I'd done and no supper to boot." I paused and thoughtfully added, "I probably would have gotten a lot more if Mother hadn't stopped him."

She gave me a piercing look. "You should be grateful she did. Even now, I don't think he's calmed down. Aunt Cassia sent me up here partially because Uncle Meiden isn't in a mood to see anyone and partly because she wanted someone to check and see if you were ok." A corner of her mouth twisted wryly. "From the looks of it, I'd say you haven't been thinking very hard at all about what happened." She lightly whacked me again with her passport.

"I have so! I even WROTE about it. Wanna see?"

I scurried over to my desk to show Nette the words I had penned. Mother had given me the red, leather bound blank ledger to record my thoughts and ideas. She believed strongly in the power of putting words to paper -- that it strengthed resolve and clarified direction and intent -- and impressed that strongly upon me.

Hands on her hips, Nette growled at me. "Denny, I respect every person's right to organize their space in the manner they so choose but the LEAST you can do for a visitor is to leave a clear path for her."

"Whoops! Sorry!" My room WAS a bit of an obstacle course. Mother and the head housekeeper had long since despaired of trying to bring any order to my personal space. I moved a globe and a stack of books, tossed some stuffed toys onto my bed, kicked aside a pile of winter clothing, shoved boxes of schooling supplies away, and relocated my geode collection to clear a path for Nette to get to my desk.

She settled into the chair and began reading. Her brow furrowed as her eyes skimmed over the words. Then for some reason, Nette started trembling. It took me a few moments to realize she was shaking with suppressed laughter. She motioned for me to close the door, which I did immediately. As soon as it clicked shut, she let out a guffaw. "Denny, Denny, you are just too much," she gasped out between giggles.

Her laughing fit ended quickly and was replaced by an air of seriousness. "Denny, come here."

I clambered onto her lap, and we looked at each other eye-to-eye. She tapped the page with a finger. "Dryden Fassa, let me give you a bit of advice. If you want to get as old as me, make sure your father never, ever sees this."

I wasn't planning on showing it to him but I didn't see what the big deal was. "Okay, but why not? It's the truth."

"It's quite apparent that it's the truth. But you have to know when to say things and you have to know how to say them. Otherwise-Dryden do you even know why your father is so upset about what you did?"

I shrugged. "When he found out, he said--" I took in a deep breath and roared, "DRYDEN FASSA, YOU'LL BE THE DEATH OF ME!" Nette raised an eyebrow at my imitation of my father's bellowing.

"Then he said a whole bunch of other stuff, but he was whipping me then so it was kind of hard for me to understand." I concluded.

Nette studied me for a moment as if gauging my reply. Finally, she said, "Denny, you're so bright sometimes it's hard for us to remember that you still are just a kid. You don't have a clue to you?"

"About?"

In a brisk, schoolmarmish tone, she suddenly queried, "Denny, what's 13 x 13?"

"169," I answered straightening up in her lap.

"What's the current interest rate on the Palas market?"

"5.9%"

"Who's the current King of Fanelia?"

"King Goau." This was easy.

"Spell privilege."

"P-R-I-V-I-L-E-G-E."

"Why is it that you're tutored with the Aston girls and you get to go on holiday with them?"

That stopped me in my tracks. I'd never really thought of it. And I never really thought there had to be a reason for it. I was stumped. "Umm...because I have no agemates in the family and …tutoring us together is cheaper?" I guessed.

"Dryden, Dryden…" Nette shook her head; smiling sadly at me. "You know so much, so many… facts. And that's good, but sometimes it is more important to know why things are the way they are, why things are happening. Do you know what your Father wants? Do you know why he does what he does?"

That was easy. "Father wants money. He's a merchant, and that's what merchants do --make money." That's all he talked about, and it seemed like that's all he did.

"Well, that's partly true." Nette's tone was dead serious now. "He does want to be the wealthiest man on Gaia. But it's not just riches he's interested in. He's also interested in power now. And, " Nette said, frowning slightly, "Uncle Meiden is the type of person to use everything in his power to get what he wants."

"Including you, Denny."

I sat silently on Nette's lap as I mentally digested her words. Nette tousled my curls gently and said, "If someone's using you, you should at least be aware of it so you can decide for yourself if you want to go along or not."

"But how am I supposed to give him power?"'

She gave me a look that was almost condescending. "Denny, do you think just anyone gets schooled with the King's daughters and nieces? Don't you think it's interesting that Thor Julian's father is the biggest landowner this side of the Chatal mountains? And that Trevor and Haim Kester are related to some of the most prominent commanders in the military?" Nette continued, rattling off the prestigious backgrounds and bloodlines of the children I was schooled with at the palace.

It must have been apparent from my expression that those thoughts had never crossed my 8-year old brain. Nette sighed heavily. "Ok, I'll be very clear with you, Denny. Your father went through GREAT PAINS to arrange for you to be tutored and have playtime with the little friends that you have. BECAUSE they are the children of IMPORTANT people, and the probability of a child of an important person becoming IMPORTANT is VERY HIGH in Asturia."

Things were starting to make a lot of sense now.

"So he wants me to know them and be friends with them so I'll be important. And because I'm his son, that'll help him."

"Yes, I do believe he is finally catching on!" I scowled grumpily at her teasing tone. Nette chuckled and said, "Denny, there's a phrase: it's not what you know, but who you know. It's not an absolute rule, but trust me, much of what you're able to do will ride on more on your connections than solely on facts and figures."

"So I'm just another way for him to make more contracts," I said, peevishly.

"No, not just that." Annette paused as if briefly wondering whether she should continue or not.

"What?!"

"He wants you to marry one of the princesses and become King."

"WHAT!?! THERE'S NO WAY-"

"Shush, Denny. Not so loud."
I immediately quieted down. But I was still confused and shocked by her statement. "Is he crazy?" I hissed.

"Crazy? No. Ambitious? Yes. Denny, do you remember how Queen Therese passed away last year?"

I nodded. I did remember. It had been awful, everything draped in black, dirges, and mourning for a week. Millerna just an infant so she didn't really understand, but it had been weeks before Eries and Marlene joined in on our games again.

"Since she died, King Aston hasn't made any indication that he's even remotely interested in remarrying. That means that one of the girls you're playing with will become queen one day. King Aston will probably announce his choice of heir within the year. Whoever she is, she's going to need a husband. If she follows in tradition, it'll be an Asturian husband. And your father is hoping it'll be you."

"But I don't wanna marry a girl! I mean, I don't hate them --most of the time, I guess. But I don't wanna do that icky, kissy, smoochy stuff with them!" Scenes from last time Indigo, Marlene, and Eries had dragged us boys into playing "house" with them flashed through my mind.

"Denny..."

"If I have to get married, I'd rather marry you, Nette! At least you won't make me call you "sweetie-dumpling" and make me bring you flowers and drink tea with my finger sticking out--"

Nette nearly fell out of the chair laughing. "With a suave proposal like that, there's no way any woman in her right mind would be able to resist you, Denny! But I must decline. It's a scientific fact that if you marry your cousin, you wind up with kids with 10 heads." Nette stated with authority.

"EYAA! REALLY!?"

"No, I was just kidding. But kids from cousin marriages do end up pretty weird, and the two of us are strange to start off with. There's a reason why family trees branch out and not intertwine."

"But why do I have to get married at all? And why can't father just leave me out of this?" I whined.

Nette patted my head sympathetically. "It may be hard for you to believe this now, but in a few years you'll probably be looking at those "icky" girls a lot differently." She ignored the skeptical glance I shot at her. "As for your father, well, there's nothing really you can do about him trying to orchestrate your future to suit himself. However, there's a lot you can do to assert your own agenda for your life. But any decision you make does have its consequences." I looked askance at Nette. She was speaking from experience there.

When Gregorio passed away two years ago, there were attempts to discourage Annette from the trade circuit and convince her to agree to a marriage that would be beneficial to her and to the Fassas as a whole. However, Annette proved herself tenacious and steadfast in her desires to stay in her career. That combined with the fact that she was as talented, if not more so, than her peers kept her from being removed.

However, there had been a price. Because of her unconventional occupation and her lukewarm support from the Fassa patriarchy, the heads of other prominent families had labeled Nette an eccentric and therefore unmarriageable. Even though she was the sole heir of Grigorio Fassa's massive estate, her propescts for marriage were not bright. I had heard my father muttering once that she did it on purpose because she disliked men.

"Do you want to get married, Nette?"

My question startled her, but she recovered quickly. "I don't need to get married, but I'm not against it." I gave her a puzzled look and she explained, "It's not that I hate the idea of having a husband and earnestly just want to be alone the rest of my life. But I'm not going to marry someone who cannot accept me for who I am. Until I find that person, I'm fine as is, and if I never find him, that's okay too. I won't settle for less."

Brushing a few errant strands of her thick mahogany hair away from her face, Nette shifted her gaze from me up to the open window beyond us. My room was on the fourth floor of my father's house, which meant it commanded an unobstructed view of the ocean. The evening seascape framed by my window was breathtaking. She stared thoughtfully for a few long moments at the brilliant pair of moons hanging above the water before she spoke again.

"People get married for different reasons. Grandpa married because he wanted heirs. My parents married for love. Our uncles wanted me to marry to strengthen business partnerships for the family and probably to get me out of their hair to boot," she said with a harsh laugh. "Your father wants you to marry for power. But it's up to you to decide for yourself it that's what you want marriage to be for you. Just remember what I said though-whatever view you choose, there are benefits and consequences."

"And who you choose to marry will affect you for life."

I didn't like the sound of that. I also didn't like the thought of my calculating father manipulating my future. "Why do I have to think this stuff now?"

Nette smiled encouragingly at me. "Denny, you don't have to. Just be aware that there is a lot more to your group of friends than you thought there was and keep it filed in the back of your head. Enjoy your childhood, enjoy playing with your friends. Who knows? Maybe you'll become more attached to those girls than you think." I screwed up my face. "Or maybe not," she amended. "But when the time comes, and you know what you want, be ready and be prepared because you will be making the choice of a lifetime."

I sighed, slumping against my cousin. She patted me gently on the head, but it did nothing to dissipate the anxiety I felt welling within me. I simply could not imagine being joined - for life - to any of the princesses.

It was completely implausible to me. Most of the time Marlene merely tolerated me. From the way she glared at me when I pointed out errors in her logic or schoolwork, snapped at me when I was lax in my manners, or stumbled over my feet in dance lessons, I got the feeling she viewed me as a kind of smart-alecky, pesky, younger brother. I doubt she'd be pleased at all to be paired with me. When it came to boys, the beautiful, elegant, oldest princess much preferred the company of boys like Haim, Trevor's older brother, who was more handsome and athletic and who never misstepped during a dance, nor went out of his way to cause trouble.

I liked Eries, and she got along with me, but then again she seemed to go out of her way to get along with everyone. Academically, she was a match for me. We often found ourselves study mates as we delved deeper into advanced study material long after our agemates had tired of it. The difference though was that I was genuinely interested in a deeper understanding whereas Eries was doing it because she felt she had to. She was always preoccupied by expectations and traditions and roles and things-that-must-de-done. It contrasted sharply with my own personal agenda, which placed a very high priority on fun. Sometimes she unnerved me with her seriousness.

And Millerna, well, she was barely more than a baby, and more of a hindrance than a playmate. According to Eries, Millerna was currently going through a phase where everything was fair game for being declared hers. I had been the victim of one of her annexations, too. She'd taken the pen knife from my bag while we were at Tanglewood and refused to give it up. It had taken an hour and the combined efforts of all the Aston girls to get her to relinquish it without inadvertently slicing her in the process.

None of the three sisters was a very appealing option to me. Maybe if I was fortunate, my father's scheme would not come to fruition. So I wouldn't have to worry about girls…