Arele--Part 1
Mar. 3rd, 2011 09:57 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
drownedinlight Well, it's day three of my writing/reading challenge--I need to come up with a better name for this thing--and I'm still going strong, thanks to getting up a little earlier to give myself about two hours of writing time. Speaking of writing, here's a piece that I wrote this morning and will hopefully be continuing well into the future and developing more as I go on. It's a little choppy right now, and my characters are not well established, but that's what revision is for. This is just my first draft, so I'm going to let it go and be glad it's written.
There stood a girl off to the edge of the courtyard, where a soldier and a nobleman’s son practiced fencing. It took time for the captain to realize the borrowed tunic and trousers she wore, which hung off of her in spades, and had been belted tightly to her, were actually some of the princes’ clothing, and the red hair she wore down her back in a braid very clearly belonged to the youngest princess. He walked slowly toward her, as not to frighten her away from the stable wall, but needed not to, for she watched him approach and place a gentle hand on her head.
“Princess, what are you doing?” he asked, crouching down to her level.
“I’m watching,” she said.
“Well, yes, I know, but why are you watching.”
“Marius says, when he and Brian poke Diana and I with their practice swords, that girls aren’t allowed to sword-play but I checked in the law books, and there’s not anything that says I can’t learn,” she reported. “So I came to watch.” What a clever little seven-year-old, he thought.
“Well, unfortunately, you won’t learn much by watching,” he told her. “And what Prince Marius meant was that it’s more of an unspoken rule that Ladies such as you aren’t really taught sword play, because we don’t have women in the army.”
“It was allowed before,” the little princess said. “It says in the history book that a long time ago, more women had trades and could serve in the army and heal, and one of my ancestors even sat on the throne independently.” She spoke that last bit proudly, but the captain wondered if she really had any idea just what she was saying. “It also said that according the law book, Marius doesn’t just get to be King, he has to earn it.” That was something the captain had never heard before.
“What do you mean he has to earn it, Princess?”
“I mean, the book said we don’t have a crown prince, just a bunch of princes and princesses. The one that’s the best at ruling the country gets to be king. I plan on telling Marius that pulling hair isn’t very king like, the next time he tries it, and maybe that Father won’t pick him.”
“You shouldn’t tell him that,” the captain said very quickly.
“And why not? Mother says we should always use our words instead of fighting,” she said. The captain belted out a laugh, before he patted her on the head.
“That isn’t quite what I believe your mother meant, Princess. You shouldn’t tell the princes because they might tell your father.” The princess shook her head, making her braid fly around.
“But Father wouldn’t mind, he loves me the most and says I’m going to make a very good queen.”
“But being queen isn’t the same as being king,” he told her. “Usually only men are kings, and only boys can become them.”
“Even though the law book says differently?” she asked.
“Yes even though the law book is different; it is something people do not talk about, like I told you before,” he said to her, watching the frown drag her face down. “Don’t look so sad, Princess, you will make an excellent queen, and you are very smart.”
“Well, I guess it doesn’t matter if you’re smart if Marius can be king,” she said. “After all he gets into trouble all the time because he does the most unintelligent things. Or at least that’s what Father says.” The captain felt his heart tighten, a string of guilt strangling it. He should not feel bad; after all, the princess’s hopes would have been dashed eventually, probably in front of a cruel tutor, or with some love lost from her father. But still, a pain he could not identify wracked him at seeing the little princess broken as she was.
“But I will tell you this, Princess,” he said, “I will teach you some sword play to make up for it.”
“I can learn, like Marius and Brian?” she asked.
“Yes, yes, but you must be diligent,” he told her, “and practice all the time. And never use it against your brothers.”
“Even when they use their sticks on me?” she asked.
“Yes, even then,” he said. “Do you promise?” he asked. She held up her hand and swore,
“I promise on my honor as a princess, that I will not harm my brothers with a practice sword, or anything else sword shaped, even if they try to hurt me, unless it’s for official practice.”
He saw the bemused looks of the young nobleman, and the soldier, who stopped their spar to watch the little princess get her first grip on a practice sword. The captain met their eyes, and through their smiles, they nodded, and understood this was something that never left the practice yard.
Arele crept through the dimly lit halls of the palace to her room. As she grew older and older, it became more and more dangerous for her to practice sword-play—though it would certainly not result in her death, at the very least her every movement would be controlled, and her parent’s love possibly lost to her forever. Perhaps she might not even be able to marry. It was her reputation that was in danger of being ruined
She hated thoughts like this. Ever since she was a girl, she longed to be the highest heir to the kingdom, which according to the old laws should be earned by merit instead of birth right. But their kingdom had long ago descended into male practice and the throne had not seen an autonomous woman in centuries. And as she grew older and older, Arele lost hope of being the next to sit on the throne, her father’s throne, without a man by her side.
She entered her room, and found the fire already well stoked, and her bed made. A woman with dark hair sat at her bench near the window, outlining her frame with morning light.
“Good morning, Arele,” she said. “And how did you enjoy your morning ride?”
“Good morning, Mother; I enjoyed it very well, thank you,” Arele replied, moving to her wash bucket. She stripped off her tunic, and began washing herself around her shift, to take some of the stick of horse and sweat of exercise off her skin.
“I have ordered you new sets of clothing. Not much, I feel it would be beneficial for you to learn how to order the rest, but you have dresses now long enough for you.” Arele nodded as she slipped out of her riding bottoms. “And we must find you some maids. It is unusual that you should still be dressing alone.” Her mother paused as Arele began changing into a clean shift, and pulled a shirt and a bodice over her head.
Arele felt the ties of the bodice being taken from her, into her mother’s expert hands. “I saw you, down in the practice yard,” her mother said softly. Arele almost turned to look, but her mother tightened the bodice so that she could not turn around. “I thought perhaps the captain was indulging you after your morning ride, but then I saw you again, and again return to receive lessons. You have become quite an accomplished swordswoman, Arele, as good as your brothers even.”
“Why are you telling me this mother?” Arele asked.
“Because you need to stop, Arele,” the queen replied. “You are fifteen, too old to be doing such a thing. When you were younger and would spar with your brothers it was one thing, but you will be of a marriageable age soon. A prince or a king would balk at a woman who knows as much about weaponry as you do.”
“I am careful mother,” she replied.
“Careful enough that I caught you in one early morning rise?” the queen asked. “Why would you want to learn such a thing in the first place, Arele?”
“Obviously, you think me foolish, Mother; will explaining make me any less foolish?” Her mother finished tying off the bodice in silence. When she was done, though, she took Arele’s hand and guided her to her writing table, motioning for her to sit.
“I want to know why, Arele, why you chose this path for yourself. It means something too you.” The queen brushed a fallen lock of hair out of her daughter’s eyes. Arele took a deep breath, and with it, expelled one of her deepest secrets.
“I found an old law that says the king must choose the most worthy of his children to become heir to the throne, not just the eldest. I thought, perhaps I could rule my own country, instead of needed to marry to do so. It is why I never stopped going to the politics and the strategy lessons you provide my brothers. It is why I learn about economics against my needlepoint and dancing. I want to be a queen who knows the state of her country, who can lead.”
“And do you think I do not lead?” the queen asked. “Do you think the things I do, unimportant?”
“You lead the palace staff,” Arele recited. “You help with the poor, and on occasion, you advise my father on political affairs. You are the one who will likely find a husband for me in a few years. It is important that you can do these things, and I believe it is important that I learn them. But I…I want to do more mother.”
“And what do you think you will accomplish with these abilities?” Her mother asked. “Do you honestly think your father will pick you to be queen over his sons, two of his elder children?”
“No,” Arele said. “I…I have nearly given up hope on ruling my own country. But I cannot squash such a thing I have held onto so dearly for so long, Mother. It is a part of me, and I don’t want to let it go. It gives me hope that perhaps things will change. That maybe one of Marius’ daughters will sit on the throne or one of his granddaughters should he so choose. I still have hope, however illogical.”
The queen sat silent, grasping Arele’s hands as she did.
“Then you will not like the decision I have made for you, child,” she said at last. “And you must understand, I did do it to quell some of your ambition, but I have a feeling you shall rise above this.”
“Mother, what are you talking about?” she asked.
“I am sending you to the Convent of Ives,” her mother replied. “It is a thing done for many girls your age, to finish and round their educations of womanly arts. There you shall likely find friends and allies, and perhaps even those who would wish to become the handmaids to a princess. And perhaps be pleasantly surprised in what they have to teach you.” She gripped her daughter’s hands tighter. “I know your ambition, Arele; I had it once too, to be something greater than what we are given as our lot in life. It is why I have allowed your lessons in things that would have normally been considered only a man’s field. And mayhap your knowledge will bring you a husband and life of great things, Arele.”
Her mother kissed her forehead and stood, brushing down her skirts as she did. “Today, after your lessons, you shall join me and we will begin preparing for your journey. I’ll send someone to help you with your hair. And I do believe it is high time you began wearing a corset.”
Before Arele had a chance to speak or protest, her mother strode out of her room with a queenly gate, leaving her daughter to imagine just what a convent life would be like. No more sword play, probably no more riding, either. They would probably teach nothing they considered too masculine to the young women of nobility, so that eliminated many of the subjects that would assist her in governing a country. And her mother wanted her to accept this? To “rise above it,” as she said. There would be nothing she could do, each and every day to keep from withering away into a simpering twat.
She forced herself to take a deep breath, steeling herself to keep the tears in her eyes. She promised herself that when she was young to never disrespect the womanly arts, for they were difficult in their own right; to spin, weave, sew, sit, stand and dance were more difficult than any man could know. Yet still, she wanted to reject these things with every fiber of herself, if it meant she had to give up the subjects which she treasured more than gold.
Well, she would find a way around it. She would—sneak in books, about politics or economics, and maybe even her sword as well. She would just have to be careful. She would simply have to preserver. And she would, she would not let this ruin who she wanted to be.
Piece WC: 2199
3/3/11 WC: 2303
Project WC: 7696
There stood a girl off to the edge of the courtyard, where a soldier and a nobleman’s son practiced fencing. It took time for the captain to realize the borrowed tunic and trousers she wore, which hung off of her in spades, and had been belted tightly to her, were actually some of the princes’ clothing, and the red hair she wore down her back in a braid very clearly belonged to the youngest princess. He walked slowly toward her, as not to frighten her away from the stable wall, but needed not to, for she watched him approach and place a gentle hand on her head.
“Princess, what are you doing?” he asked, crouching down to her level.
“I’m watching,” she said.
“Well, yes, I know, but why are you watching.”
“Marius says, when he and Brian poke Diana and I with their practice swords, that girls aren’t allowed to sword-play but I checked in the law books, and there’s not anything that says I can’t learn,” she reported. “So I came to watch.” What a clever little seven-year-old, he thought.
“Well, unfortunately, you won’t learn much by watching,” he told her. “And what Prince Marius meant was that it’s more of an unspoken rule that Ladies such as you aren’t really taught sword play, because we don’t have women in the army.”
“It was allowed before,” the little princess said. “It says in the history book that a long time ago, more women had trades and could serve in the army and heal, and one of my ancestors even sat on the throne independently.” She spoke that last bit proudly, but the captain wondered if she really had any idea just what she was saying. “It also said that according the law book, Marius doesn’t just get to be King, he has to earn it.” That was something the captain had never heard before.
“What do you mean he has to earn it, Princess?”
“I mean, the book said we don’t have a crown prince, just a bunch of princes and princesses. The one that’s the best at ruling the country gets to be king. I plan on telling Marius that pulling hair isn’t very king like, the next time he tries it, and maybe that Father won’t pick him.”
“You shouldn’t tell him that,” the captain said very quickly.
“And why not? Mother says we should always use our words instead of fighting,” she said. The captain belted out a laugh, before he patted her on the head.
“That isn’t quite what I believe your mother meant, Princess. You shouldn’t tell the princes because they might tell your father.” The princess shook her head, making her braid fly around.
“But Father wouldn’t mind, he loves me the most and says I’m going to make a very good queen.”
“But being queen isn’t the same as being king,” he told her. “Usually only men are kings, and only boys can become them.”
“Even though the law book says differently?” she asked.
“Yes even though the law book is different; it is something people do not talk about, like I told you before,” he said to her, watching the frown drag her face down. “Don’t look so sad, Princess, you will make an excellent queen, and you are very smart.”
“Well, I guess it doesn’t matter if you’re smart if Marius can be king,” she said. “After all he gets into trouble all the time because he does the most unintelligent things. Or at least that’s what Father says.” The captain felt his heart tighten, a string of guilt strangling it. He should not feel bad; after all, the princess’s hopes would have been dashed eventually, probably in front of a cruel tutor, or with some love lost from her father. But still, a pain he could not identify wracked him at seeing the little princess broken as she was.
“But I will tell you this, Princess,” he said, “I will teach you some sword play to make up for it.”
“I can learn, like Marius and Brian?” she asked.
“Yes, yes, but you must be diligent,” he told her, “and practice all the time. And never use it against your brothers.”
“Even when they use their sticks on me?” she asked.
“Yes, even then,” he said. “Do you promise?” he asked. She held up her hand and swore,
“I promise on my honor as a princess, that I will not harm my brothers with a practice sword, or anything else sword shaped, even if they try to hurt me, unless it’s for official practice.”
He saw the bemused looks of the young nobleman, and the soldier, who stopped their spar to watch the little princess get her first grip on a practice sword. The captain met their eyes, and through their smiles, they nodded, and understood this was something that never left the practice yard.
Arele crept through the dimly lit halls of the palace to her room. As she grew older and older, it became more and more dangerous for her to practice sword-play—though it would certainly not result in her death, at the very least her every movement would be controlled, and her parent’s love possibly lost to her forever. Perhaps she might not even be able to marry. It was her reputation that was in danger of being ruined
She hated thoughts like this. Ever since she was a girl, she longed to be the highest heir to the kingdom, which according to the old laws should be earned by merit instead of birth right. But their kingdom had long ago descended into male practice and the throne had not seen an autonomous woman in centuries. And as she grew older and older, Arele lost hope of being the next to sit on the throne, her father’s throne, without a man by her side.
She entered her room, and found the fire already well stoked, and her bed made. A woman with dark hair sat at her bench near the window, outlining her frame with morning light.
“Good morning, Arele,” she said. “And how did you enjoy your morning ride?”
“Good morning, Mother; I enjoyed it very well, thank you,” Arele replied, moving to her wash bucket. She stripped off her tunic, and began washing herself around her shift, to take some of the stick of horse and sweat of exercise off her skin.
“I have ordered you new sets of clothing. Not much, I feel it would be beneficial for you to learn how to order the rest, but you have dresses now long enough for you.” Arele nodded as she slipped out of her riding bottoms. “And we must find you some maids. It is unusual that you should still be dressing alone.” Her mother paused as Arele began changing into a clean shift, and pulled a shirt and a bodice over her head.
Arele felt the ties of the bodice being taken from her, into her mother’s expert hands. “I saw you, down in the practice yard,” her mother said softly. Arele almost turned to look, but her mother tightened the bodice so that she could not turn around. “I thought perhaps the captain was indulging you after your morning ride, but then I saw you again, and again return to receive lessons. You have become quite an accomplished swordswoman, Arele, as good as your brothers even.”
“Why are you telling me this mother?” Arele asked.
“Because you need to stop, Arele,” the queen replied. “You are fifteen, too old to be doing such a thing. When you were younger and would spar with your brothers it was one thing, but you will be of a marriageable age soon. A prince or a king would balk at a woman who knows as much about weaponry as you do.”
“I am careful mother,” she replied.
“Careful enough that I caught you in one early morning rise?” the queen asked. “Why would you want to learn such a thing in the first place, Arele?”
“Obviously, you think me foolish, Mother; will explaining make me any less foolish?” Her mother finished tying off the bodice in silence. When she was done, though, she took Arele’s hand and guided her to her writing table, motioning for her to sit.
“I want to know why, Arele, why you chose this path for yourself. It means something too you.” The queen brushed a fallen lock of hair out of her daughter’s eyes. Arele took a deep breath, and with it, expelled one of her deepest secrets.
“I found an old law that says the king must choose the most worthy of his children to become heir to the throne, not just the eldest. I thought, perhaps I could rule my own country, instead of needed to marry to do so. It is why I never stopped going to the politics and the strategy lessons you provide my brothers. It is why I learn about economics against my needlepoint and dancing. I want to be a queen who knows the state of her country, who can lead.”
“And do you think I do not lead?” the queen asked. “Do you think the things I do, unimportant?”
“You lead the palace staff,” Arele recited. “You help with the poor, and on occasion, you advise my father on political affairs. You are the one who will likely find a husband for me in a few years. It is important that you can do these things, and I believe it is important that I learn them. But I…I want to do more mother.”
“And what do you think you will accomplish with these abilities?” Her mother asked. “Do you honestly think your father will pick you to be queen over his sons, two of his elder children?”
“No,” Arele said. “I…I have nearly given up hope on ruling my own country. But I cannot squash such a thing I have held onto so dearly for so long, Mother. It is a part of me, and I don’t want to let it go. It gives me hope that perhaps things will change. That maybe one of Marius’ daughters will sit on the throne or one of his granddaughters should he so choose. I still have hope, however illogical.”
The queen sat silent, grasping Arele’s hands as she did.
“Then you will not like the decision I have made for you, child,” she said at last. “And you must understand, I did do it to quell some of your ambition, but I have a feeling you shall rise above this.”
“Mother, what are you talking about?” she asked.
“I am sending you to the Convent of Ives,” her mother replied. “It is a thing done for many girls your age, to finish and round their educations of womanly arts. There you shall likely find friends and allies, and perhaps even those who would wish to become the handmaids to a princess. And perhaps be pleasantly surprised in what they have to teach you.” She gripped her daughter’s hands tighter. “I know your ambition, Arele; I had it once too, to be something greater than what we are given as our lot in life. It is why I have allowed your lessons in things that would have normally been considered only a man’s field. And mayhap your knowledge will bring you a husband and life of great things, Arele.”
Her mother kissed her forehead and stood, brushing down her skirts as she did. “Today, after your lessons, you shall join me and we will begin preparing for your journey. I’ll send someone to help you with your hair. And I do believe it is high time you began wearing a corset.”
Before Arele had a chance to speak or protest, her mother strode out of her room with a queenly gate, leaving her daughter to imagine just what a convent life would be like. No more sword play, probably no more riding, either. They would probably teach nothing they considered too masculine to the young women of nobility, so that eliminated many of the subjects that would assist her in governing a country. And her mother wanted her to accept this? To “rise above it,” as she said. There would be nothing she could do, each and every day to keep from withering away into a simpering twat.
She forced herself to take a deep breath, steeling herself to keep the tears in her eyes. She promised herself that when she was young to never disrespect the womanly arts, for they were difficult in their own right; to spin, weave, sew, sit, stand and dance were more difficult than any man could know. Yet still, she wanted to reject these things with every fiber of herself, if it meant she had to give up the subjects which she treasured more than gold.
Well, she would find a way around it. She would—sneak in books, about politics or economics, and maybe even her sword as well. She would just have to be careful. She would simply have to preserver. And she would, she would not let this ruin who she wanted to be.
Piece WC: 2199
3/3/11 WC: 2303
Project WC: 7696
