(Part 1)

Having--she felt--paid Azalea in her own coin for that day, Princess Leia now began making her unhurried way back to the chamber intended for embroidery lessons: her second most favored place after the royal stables, where her own snow-white filly, Vania, was being kept.

For the moment, she was more of the mind to properly finish the shawls for the upcoming winter. The ones intended for her eldest brother Mustafa and herself had been finished, ready for presentation when next the former shall see home--oh, what a day that would be!

Rashid's shawl was about halfway done.

Maybe, just maybe, Lei would then proceed to make another pair for each of her half-siblings.

Oh, Azalea might have been a cheeky personality for that particular day, her desire for Leia's worn doublet rather unseemly. In fairness, however, quite unlike Leia, the other princess had had no elder brother of her own to turn to for advice--let alone consolation.

Besides, Zalea did ask for a present of her own.

Ought she really fuss over so laughable a case? Might it not be much wiser to instead let Azalea come to her, Leia, and allow the former to voice her mind on this whole farce for a change?

After all, owing to them having the same father, Zalea was her sister; how could she not see that?

Weighing her options, Princess Leia thus seated herself on one of the hallway benches... and waited, praying for the best.

The wait did not last as long as Lei might have feared. The other princess showed up ten minutes after that, with a bewildered look.

"At last... Where the heck have ya been, Lei? Servants I asked said you were headed for the embroidery chamber--I found it empty! Those goons should really have their brains fried, having dared to lie to my face..."

"None lied," Leia replied shortly. "I did plan on going there, only to recall we have unfinished business."

"That so?" Azalea sneered. "Here, then--yer garb, as promised. Bit past the given deadline, but better than never, aye?"

"Glad you remembered," Lei replied, pleasantly astonished. Taking the garb on her own lap, she then allowed the wolfling princess a seat by her side--something she would not even consider hours earlier.

Even as she took up the offer, Azalea chortled.

"Come now, Leia dear. I'm wild, not dumb, and you have proven every inch a worthy match. Heck of a day! Bit fun teasin' ya 'round, I confess."

"The very kind of match that I did not look forward to, Zalea, for your information."

"Regard it as ya will, nymphet, 'tis been good for all of us--'lieve it or not. Had I not gone off with that garb, I would not have realized how deeply we were both willing to hold on to it; I would not have realized the values of promises I had so lightly broken, and for so often. Most of all, I would most probably not have met a... friend."

"And we would not finally be having this chat as..." Leia gulped, "...as sisters."

"Way to go, Pighead! You're learnin'!" Zalea slapped her fellow princess's shoulder a few times, quite heedless of the groans. "What do you plan to do with that kind o' knowledge, I wonder?"

"Practically, nothing. But, since I was about to go to the embroidery chamber anyway, why not... go there together?"

Azalea rolled her own eyes. "You damn well know I'm no good 'round needles."

"I spoke nothing of need. You can just look on, see if anything should interest you."

"Worth a try, I suppose. Got anything to show me, have ya?"

"Shawls," came the earnest reply, "so far only for my own brothers, but you're welcome all the same..."

"Rubbish," Zalea remarked, snickering. "Not gonna bust your bubble, Lei, but that wayside shop I undertook to wreck earlier today got loads of 'em, and of way better make than yours. Velvet, they said! Too bad I missed the price tags; heck, Das might've been willing to help calculate the cost--useful exercise. Call on me when you've progressed to making doublets too, would ya, Pighead? Same as the one you're holding, preferably more wholesome?"

"Would it have made any difference if I said I've got one shawl planned just for you?"

The wolfling princess grinned.

"Now how could you hope to cater to my refined tastes, eh? Get that for Rashid done first; fine job he's been doing backin' ya up, seen it first-hand. Me and Dastra'll just get along our own way, as we always do. Good? No buts."

Leia permitted herself a slight smile. "If you say so."

"Later, sucker~"

The doublet having now been returned, Azalea felt as if an enormous weight had been lifted off her shoulders; heck, she even got a few jibes off for size. What did surprise her was Leia's apparent meekness this time around...

Perhaps, this princess reflected, that one was just tired, having had to deal with this sort of mischief for the better part of a day--and for so many times before.

"Well played, sure was, in any case," Azalea muttered merrily to herself.

As she walked on, it occurred to this wolfling princess that she could do with a whiff of fresh air after all. With this in mind she redirected her steps to Lady Vestra's gardens.

***

"Zalea, dear! So glad you decided to join us!"

The young royal visitor waved back in response while maintaining her distance, now putting up her signature hands-on-hips gesture in observance.

"So," she called back, "this is your patch of work, huh, Vessy?"

A few of the other 'common' gardeners winced at such a casual remark from beneath their hats, but knew better than to protest.

"Reminds me of home, yes," Vestra remarked, grinning, before stooping down to tend one of the flowers. "The pains Urdin must have gone through to procure some of these plants and seeds! Part of why I was so enthused in being allowed to have a hand in managing this place, to be honest. Get down here, if you please, darling; there's something I think you'd want to see."

"Should I really?"

"Can't get a decent view from there, now can you?" Lord Husnirid's first spouse walked over several plants and past some citrus trees, before halting in front of a cluster of bright-colored flowers.

Gingerly, the princess complied.

"What's that you're staring at?" she asked upon reaching the highborn gardener. "What's so special 'bout them?"

"The reason why I wanted you to come here back then, dear. Behold your namesakes."

Stunned, the princess cast a second, more careful look at the flowers.

"I... was named after a plant, supposed to take nourishment from worm-infested soil?!"

Vestra nodded. "Seems like it. Dazzling, though, aren't they?"

"And numerous, but... but... my mom never told me this, about what I was named after, neither did... Oh, when I get my hands on those homely gits naming themselves tutors!"

"She might have hoped you'd find out yourself. Some things work best when concealed."

Princess Azalea looked again. Her namesakes. Bright, true enough, and numerous... and appeared to be blooming and thriving alongside many other plants under Vestra's gentle care; just like the princess herself.

At least, she fancied so.

"What flower was Leia named after, Vessy?" Zalea demanded of this particular gardener.

"Lilies," came the reply, "and 'Rashid' means 'the Guided'."

"Little wonder... that pipsqueak's patience does get to me sometimes."

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing," the princess blurted. "Lei and myself take after flowers, I see... Wonder what 'Dastra' means; I heard it said that kids' names are part of their parents' hopes on what said child would grow up to be."

Vestra beamed despite herself. "Works that way for me, indeed!"

"These, er, azaleas," the princess resumed, in a milder tone, "how long have you been tending them?"

"These were from the eighth seeding, I believe."

"What did you do to older ones?"

"Sold them. Made for nice homely decorations, no doubt. Handsome cash either way."

"The First Lady of Husnirid, haggling over petty flowers?"

"No shame in that. Be good to get in touch with one's people, as well."

A brief silence ensued, interrupted only by the rustling of citrus leaves and the hardly-interrupted work of other gardeners.

"Say, Vessy... no, I mean, Lady Vestra--"

"'Vessy' will do. Old habits die hard."

"--Do you mind if I keep some of these? Reminder of who I am, sort of."

"Where would you like to have them delivered?"

Princess Azalea's cheeks felt warm.

"No need to be so formal, dang it, I'm way younger... Just send word when the pruning is done; I'll have someone fetch it."

"But of course, dear."

"And, um... d-do I have to, like, pay..?"

"Forget it. My present for you, Zalea, for the promise you honored to my daughter."

At that moment this princess felt she had been so inexplicably dumb in continuing to hold grudges over the years against such a respectable, if sharp-tongued, soul. This same onrush of respect she now felt, like the hardly-resistible flood of a freshly-breached dyke.

The mother I should have had, Zalea had declared previously... and she now found to her delight that this held true, interspersed with deep dismay that this was not truly the case.

"Good, that's settled then. I'm off now."

Vestra dipped her head. "Take care."

Unbeknownst to the now-merry princess as she made her way back in, a pair of keen, cloaked eyes were observing her. Like a scorpion in its element, the lone agent slithered off and away.

***

Following his second, much-friendlier encounter with Zalea, Prince Rashid continued on his way to the workshop that his practical mentor Vaarsan must be in.

The artisan was resting from a day's work of fletching another quiver-ful of steel-tipped arrows when Rashid cheerfully greeted him. The former rose with welcoming delight.

"Peace be to you, Vaarsan!"

"And to you, my prince! So thoughtful of you to grace our workshop so late in the day..."

Ras giggled. "Got a bow to finish, don't I? Now, where were we?"

"A moment, please." The artisan went off to fetch a polished, as-yet stringless short bow, about four-and-a-half feet, bending and unbending it a few times to test its flexibility

"Here you go, sir. No string as of yet, but as it is you could try to figure out the weight and grip, see if both aspects are already to your preferences. Only then might we get to 'stringing' it."

"Fair 'nough."

At the expiration of fifteen minutes, with the light starting to fade, Prince Rashid declared himself satisfied with the handling of his short bow, and had also fixed the string.

"Do keep in mind, sir," Vaarsan informed him, "this bow is tailored for you at your current age. As you mature, you may notice that recruits of our legions shall be using bows of different type and length, and thus, you might find it necessary to retrain under those altered dimensions. Nor is this bow recommended for horse archery, a vision I see you're aspiring to be."

"Those arrows you were fletching earlier," the prince resumed, stretching the newly-fitted string taut, "were they for my use, as well?"

"Those were steel-tipped ones, sir, for campaigns in earnest."

"Think I might have a few?" Leia's true brother made a pinching gesture for emphasis. "Just 'nough to fill one quiver."

The artisan sighed, then smiled affectionately.

"Ten, and no more. Only take out for training."

"Ten, no more, only training," Ras repeated. "Thanks! I'll fetch the quiver tomorrow. Now I really must leave for the day, so take care too!"

The artisan managed another slight bow. "Highly appreciated, sir."

(Part 2)

The dining table had been set up in the usual arrangements that same evening, and the other diners were just starting to take their places. Princess Azalea showed up in the purple dress that she had been in since dispensing with the other princess's doublet.

Upon seeing her again, Zalea nodded politely, to Lei's returning smile.

Next came little Dastra, who chirped, "Hello, all!" (to Lady Mirani's slight frown not far behind him) before hopping on to his chair.

"Well, well," Zalea's mother commented as she passed behind the princesses' chairs, laid across each other, "so glad to see you getting along for once, Zalea."

"Shoulda done so ages ago, you darn well know it."

With a nonchalant shrug, Mira went on her way.

Lady Vestra Darys made an unassuming entrance, clad in red satin. Her daughter was the first to notice and smiled in her direction.

"Washed away all the soil, my lady?" Mirani questioned in a low voice, leering from her seat, as they came close. "Wouldn't want any on the plates, now, do we?"

"Cleaner than what your daughter did, thank you," Vestra whispered back.

Leia grinned broadly and Rashid smiled as Mirani threw a reproachful look at that reply, then turned to her own son Dastra, who was already eyeing the steaming mutton before him.

"Not yet."

"Just a tiny little bit..?"

"No, Das. Wait for your father."

"And where might he be, Lady Mira?" Leia questioned. "Tardiness does not become him."

I learned that quickly. Azalea winced at the thought.

"Poring over which campaign map to be referenced next, perhaps," that princess offered aloud, already fiddling with her fork. "He was so keen on that, back in the days, as we all knew. Wonder which presumptuous ruler he'd want to send groveling next... don't you, Pighead?"

Leia looked fit to fling an orange across the table, straight at her grinning half-sister's face. "Just when I thought we could dispense with such names here..!"

"Tough luck~"

Rashid was beaming, made somewhat brighter by candlelight. "What, we trade guesses now?"

"No fit sport at this time," Lady Vestra declared. Her counterpart, in a rare show of amity, nodded vigorously.

Just then the pair of doors were opened again and Urdin Husniris strode in with a hard-to-fathom look on his face, his shoulder-length silvery hair rustling soundlessly. The black satin slashed with red beneath velvet robes, and the sheathed presence of a short dirk around the waist (an almost-constant precaution against more shadowy attempts), completed his attire.

"You're late, Dad!" Prince Dastra yelled into the silence.

A moment of awkward tension followed this outburst, as the gaze of Lord Husnirid's amber eyes met the princeling's curious grey ones after the former took his place on the table's far end.

"What?" the princeling whispered anxiously to his true sister sitting some distance beside him. "Did I say anything out of place?"

"None," Zalea whispered back. "Just way too loud."

"Oh... sorry."

"Let Dad hear that later, 'kay."

"Now then," Lord Husnirid's voice boomed, "before we commence with this evening repast, I want to pass the word I've come to learn through a letter delivered--most peculiarly--by a messenger-eagle..."

"Eagle?" Zalea muttered under her breath. "Whatever sort of a rich loon would bother to--"

"And what," Lady Vestra inquired, "might that word be, my Amir?"

"It is to the effect that Wali Mustafa is under preparations on his way here. Said letter even bore his personal seal."

Azalea stopped fiddling with her utensils; Rashid stifled a gasp of delight; Leia looked up, her gaze eager. The look that Lady Mirani was giving the Amir was unfathomable.

"Akhi Mustafa's 'going home' message, heralded by an eagle in place of the commonplace dove? Awesome!" Dastra marveled aloud. "From which direction might he approach, I wonder?"

"North, dumb-dumb," his true sister responded with mock boredom, her cheek resting on her own balled right hand, "since that's where our eldest paragon of a bro's current area of responsibility is--the border-city of Nasria; or have ya f'rgotten? Which route to take to get the heck here, now that'll be up to him."

"Takes a few weeks too, depending on the pace he'll be taking," Rashid put in. "Why would Akhi want to strike a path home now, though? Had there been some unexpected emergency up north, Father?"

"No such hints in the lines," the Amir replied. "A form of precaution against the eagle being shot down and the missive retrieved by wrong hands, could be."

"Heck, then perhaps we should also have seen two more such eagles, Dad; mayhaps even three," Zalea retorted. "Decoys. Not like he couldn't have pulled that off; perks o' being a wali, who knows? Either way, Pipsqueak, there are things even walis might not want to trans-act."

"Yeah, such as?"

Mira's only daughter looked at him like so many court jesters.

"Homesickness, I don't know. He's young, let's remember that. Long months 'mong foreigners might not be to his taste, just yet--heck, I might've done the same in his place."

"That so?" Rashid grinned. "Good to know you have more than sass in that bosom, Zalea."

"Oh, for freak's sake. You are gonna hit that lane too, heck if I know how soon or in what region, or for how long. Rather than blaspheming 'gainst me like such, why not take a moment to ponder on how far you've prepared for that kinda moment?" Zalea huffed. "Cool-headed punk, my butt..."

Lady Vestra narrowed her eyes at such word choices, but her lord husband nodded subtly almost to himself.

"Wonder how many retinues Akhi'd bring along, in that case," Leia mused. "Sir Azumi's as gentle and clever, as Sir Khalid is quick with the sword and so adept with horses and poems..."

"Either might be needed for his court to continue running, darling," Zalea mimicked her mother's tone, to the latter's corner-of-the-lip smile. "Be frank, darn it: apart from Akhi, we really need to see none of 'em guttersnipes."

"Dear Azalea," Urdin called, his tone reminding, "those are men of proven capability and merits you're besmirching. Mustafa might not take that kindly, hard as it might have been to track down and procure the loyal services of each of them, and many others of their caliber besides."

"Then let's hear it from him, Dad; in person, like you'd so candidly told me earlier today--and until then we better pray for his safe return. I trust Lady Vestra would want that too, you're free to ask her."

The Amir shook his head, dismay and admiration in equal parts.

What sorts of women, he mused, had I brought under my wing?

Thereafter the dinner devolved to more casual talks of the royal kids' adventures in that day, including but not limited to the Leia-Zalea doublet rift, Rashid's archery aspirations, and some details on Zalea's budding friendship with a 'kid under the skies'.

During most of these after-dinner talks, Mirani appeared disinclined to listen... yet as the diners were filing out one after the other, she looked up, throwing a sharp glance at her daughter who in her turn was just rising up.

"With me, you two. We need to talk."

The princess raised an eyebrow. "May I be excused, Mom? Had a rough day, myself."

"We all did, wretch."

"Alright, ya witch! Where must we talk?"

At this, Dastra shivered slightly and started murmuring, "Please, please, let there be no centipedes this time 'round..." to himself.

In stony silence, Mirani rose in her turn and pointed a stiff finger to the doors. Her children--one of whom already in dull resignation--tailed not far behind.

Their excursion ended, once again, in an apparently-unoccupied chamber; and to Dastra's great relief, there were no pots to be found (of centipedes or otherwise) this time. His sister, meanwhile, remained wary--choosing not to speak before the door was properly closed and barred.

(Part 3)

"Here goes," this princess observed, arms-crossed, once these two conditions were met. "'Nother lovely private session. Let's get to the raw meat, shall we."

Mirani, never known for gentleness, obliged. "The heck did you think you were doing?! Advising Vessy's youngest to prepare for wali-ship... this would give them an edge over us, don't you think? Our line, our rightful claim to the throne, will thus be weakened!"

"Well, duh! This runt has to start preparing soon or late--it's completely sound... The heck is it with you, Bro?!"

Azalea turned to look at her only true brother who appeared quite on-edge, as if anticipating something, and who jolted at the question.

"I... Mom's disciplining had taken place here when you weren't around, Sis."

"Oh," Zalea acknowledged with cold rage, "so it was here, wasn't it?"

"Couldn't do anything less for my only son," Mama Viper snarled. "I had every reason to hope that such a treatment would've had lasting effects; instead, I watched the daughter whose needs I had always attended first-hand, giving an edge to the line of our adversaries!"

"Yeah? 'Adversaries'... see how Dad'll love that term."

"Plots are never made known before they succeed," Mirani mused.

"Oh? Forgive my smiling. Have you had any successes thus far, for that matter? Save getting into the household of a man you seem to despise without avail, that is."

"Allowing me in was his first great folly. I am content to let it not be his last."

One of Azalea's eyebrows twitched.

"Excuse me?! That's my dad you're making light of; one you've engaged in holy vows to bring us in, darn it! You're putting great hopes on us, the scions, day in and out like heck--but wouldn't even acknowledge your partner in that process? Just how big of a fool are ya taking me for?!"

Dastra was now observing the passage of events wide-eyed.

"As I understand it," the mother replied flatly, "any vows made can be unmade. His use to me is just about finished, quite frankly; I now have my own line, still growing but nevertheless quite ready to contest his. Now, with regards to how big of a fool you were--heck, you even took the time to stoop and take in bribes from the enemy!"

The princess's earlier vexation at not being able to retain the doublet seemed like a pinprick beside the jolt of what she was feeling right then.

"Bribes? I don't freakin' care how your seven-times-damned stool-pigeons may have twisted the news, Mom; they were simple flowers, and my darn-namesake besides. What harm is that to you?"

"The very fact that they've been planted by our onetime adversaries--"

"Darn it! Enough--I'm sick as heck of this 'we're way better than 'em' fantasy. Freakin' what had Granddad Tharion accomplished anyway, beyond leaving behind a ruined realm with no heirs but your demented self, that was soon to be repaired and restored by Dad's legions? Why is it, then, that you're still so hell-bent to unseat him? Oh, don't give me that look, Mom; I made my own observations. Were it not for Urdin, we might have spent a wretched existence moving from one gutter to the next. Some bloody gratitude's due, for cryin' out loud!"

"The line of weaklings!" Mirani retorted. "Are we then to meekly take in what fate has in store for us, daughter--that we will always be under someone else's shadows? Ought we not strive for our own homeland, including but not limited to throwing off any and all foreign yoke? Why the heck can't we rule ourselves again, hmm? Urdin did not win because his armies were stronger, rather it was because ours were so wretchedly divided by the time the cup had been passed to my father; under different circumstances that might not have been the case. We'd had to wait, I admit, but in recent years the fangs are beginning to reveal themselves. Give it time."

"Time that you had not used to get to know Vessy's lot, apparently," Azalea sneered, "as I had."

"That so? What sort of useful insights, then, had you gleaned off her?"

The princess narrowed her eyes. "Is that even a genuine question?"

"Be it so." Mirani clapped once. "Since you have now stooped down to considering your own mom an enemy, and the wife of an invader a friend..."

Mama Viper snapped her own fingers. At this gesture, a pair of black-clad figures (the lower part of their faces also covered in black) lost little time in seizing the shocked princess from either side of her and holding her seething, squirming figure in place.

"Big Sis!" Dastra squealed; only to balk at his mother's venomous glare, as if hinting 'You stay out of this.'

"Guh..! Darn, witch, to think you'd go this low--"

"No trick is too low in love and war," Mira smiled, her eyes sporting strange glints, "and this is now a war for love. 'Sides, this new nickname 'witch' suits me fine, dear Zalea, in case you haven't noticed. To conjure schemes behind the scenes, oh, the art of it!"

"Ya don't seriously think the Amir will stay silent at this," the daughter said through gritted teeth, "do ya?"

"Between the wife that knows how to pull off sweet words and the daughter that has been widely known to be a fiery loudmouth," Mama Viper mused, "I wonder, whom shall he believe more? Think of it: the more you scream, the louder you swear, the more he'll believe you are in earnest need of refinement... which, for the record, I shall be more than delighted to provide, in view of this defiance. Who knows, he might even give me free hands on administering them; ah, that'd be like hittin' a gold mine."

"You do not work alone, though!"

"Quite right. I do have peons and underlings, the way any sort of undertaking of this scale should be. But neither would you have better chances at jeopardizing them. They are fully aware of my protection; and so far as I'm concerned, just now you have left it..."

Hardly had Mira finished these words, that she took an involuntary step backwards. She felt her face where Zalea's spittle had stained it, oozing slowly down the cheek. Slowly, Mama Viper's countenance again sported a wordless smile as one would when dealing with penitentiaries that they believed were beyond relief. This smile remained even as she wiped the stain with a silk-embroidered handkerchief that she took out from the lower folds of her dress.

"Das!" the princess shouted into the silence. "How could ya remain silent on this?! Ya saw what this witch did to me, and heck, was it way beyond any norms ya'd care to learn. Say something already, darn you!"

For a time Dastra only stared back at her, which the princess took as him timidly taking stock of this arguably-horrendous display of authority as usual; surely he'd then make a stand! Then:

"Apologize, Big Sis." The response was cool in ways Zalea could hardly believe she was witnessing. "Do so now, if you please."

"The freak? Bro, you saw what--"

"Sure did," came the reply, "and I hear you, Sis, the ways they had been presented were far from decent; part of our mom's nature I guess, we have seen that. But to then spittle her face like such--go ahead, tell me if that doesn't merit an apology in itself."

Zalea flushed. Her little brother was growing; but while she privately agreed with him that her most recent act meant that she was bound to apologize, this girl was under no illusions that an apology at that moment (and especially to this kind of fork-tongued 'master' of the minds) could have meant anything but the intended message.

As such, swallowing her pique with some effort, the princess maintained a growling, pained silence.

"You wouldn't?" Dastra asked aloud--then, when no reply came, shook his head. "To think I, the timidest in our line, would end up being its sole champion..."

"What then, you actually plan to stay on such a hag's side?!" the sister blurted. "You can't be serious! She's a pox in our grander family, and will drag us all down given half the chance!"

"Perhaps... but she's also trained us in so darn-many things, of which spitting full on the face of your elders was never part. You may be my only true elder sibling, but if you can't even show proper deference to our lady mother as befits your station anyway, then best not expect any from me."

"Spoken like a true heir to my legacy," Mira beamed, clapping her only son on the shoulder. "Let's now be off, dear; we have no business being in the same chamber with such filth."

"Right behind you--" Dastra cast another side-glance at the fugitive before uttering the next word, "--Mom."

With another gesture from Mirani, one of the black-clad goons hit the fugitive on the gut and the other from the side of the head. As she slumped forward, the floor coming rapidly toward her, Princess Azalea Husniria could not help but maintain one far-from-heartwarming line of thought:

She was now truly alone against the world.

"Do no further harm," she felt she caught Mira's answer to a question she could not hear, as her consciousness continued to fade. "This... mine."