'Ariston. Nobody has any idea who his parents are, where he's from, where he goes, what he does. For all I can say, he is a mystic. Or was, at least. Through his wanderings, he came to Idgard. And after a lot of persuasion, agreed to teach me. Philosophy, perhaps, because that was what he did. So when I was fourteen - on a leafless September day - I was finally shut in a study with him. But by that time, I had ideas of my own. Point blank, I refused to learn from him. I told him that I went by my own intelligence. That I formed my own philosophies. And in response, I was ready to hear demeaning words, reproach and chastising - as any other philosopher would have meted out. But he only laughed. And a laugh that would make your hair stand on end. It was utterly humorless. But, Ariston ... I will never forget that name. His haggard beard and oily forehead - small eyes and a crooked nose. When he laughed - perfect, shining teeth. "That is right, young prince," he agreed, "you seem to know a thing or two." And I knew he was provoking me. Mystics are always like that: scary, instigating and complicated. But when I did not react, he just nodded approvingly. All the more approvingly. 

'He got up and walked around that room, his hands behind his back. He knew my eyes were following him, and so he stopped in front of the window. Right behind him shone the sun, such that I had no choice but to lower my gaze. That gave him some pleasure. But it didn't satisfy him - and so, he began showing his omniscience. "Let me guess," he started, rather amicably, much like the calm before the storm. "You are uncommonly skilled. A natural talent? Yes, why not. You were pretty useless to this country till the age of ... five, yes. It was five. And the only way the ministers spared you a thought, was when they speculated you committing fratricide for the throne. Then, the first time you showed your worth, or showed your wrath - let's say, it ended with your elder brother's murder. And what do I see - you still carry that trauma! Understandable - that I can digest. Ah, you've just got better at hiding it. And then ... why do you hide those scars? Wear them up your sleeves, Prince - come on, the fact that you were abused, is not your fault. Is it? Or maybe you think it is mortifying - and if so, I don't blame you. And I see quite many untold stories ache within you. Now, don't fret. You are destined for a confidant - and she will show you what love is. But that is a long way - a long, long way. You might not even remember my words till then. As for now ... you enjoy dueling, don't you? How many heads have you shaven? Thirty? Oh, you didn't count. Not to worry, I shall tell you - no less than three hundred sixty one heads, in truth. Master Liam, I see." And you must know how utterly aghast I was to hear all that. How could he know? Was there true omniscience in him - a short, unkempt man? I had no idea - and Alexandra, unless he was making wild guesses - he mentioned you. And that is what is happening here, that is what we are doing right now. But then, it was a nightmare - one by one he counted off incidents. Ones that even I had forgotten. At the end of it, when he abandoned the window - I saw the glint in his eyes. No, not malice. Not contempt. Just pure superiority. And then, he decided he had played enough - oh yes, it was play to him. He did teach, a lot in a single line. He said that he knew I would do this and that great things, but that in the end, I must always remember there is somebody better than me. I see it everyday before me: a thousand things I should be proud of and should pat my back on - but why?! There is somebody better out there, and for all I know, I should improve myself.'

'So that is how you are Mr. Perfect!' Alexandra exclaimed, and then forgot to close her mouth. The uncouth was worth it - who in the world did not know that there was somebody better than them? Of course, everybody did. But did everybody work on as much improvement? In the remotest corners of their lives, in the smallest aspect of their routines? Did everybody show as much willpower?

Perhaps that, was the difference. The reason the world was not such a good place, after all.

'That is what I am telling you, Miss Confidant,' he replied, putting a hand to knee, 'I am not Mr. Perfect. I never have been, and never will be. I am the stupid, albeit likeable Liam you said I was. And nobody has ever described me so perfectly in just two words.' 

When did I say that? Alexandra wondered, until she remembered that the dialogue had been to Nicholas. Of course Liam remembered, of all things, he had a huge memory. That was bound to be annoying, because he perpetually remembered all their important nights' phases of the moon - a thing Alexandra did not bother one bronze nut about. The day they had meet for the first time? A full moon. That night they met in the garden? A waxing gibbous. The day she had returned from Akwanda? A waxing crescent. The day she decided to leave for Doveland? A new moon. The day of the Triumph Meeting? Another waxing crescent. And tonight? Alexandra did not want to know!

'That was unintentional,' she told him, 'but I stand by it - and now, leave that. What happened next?' She asked, reclining until she lay on the wet grass and spreading her hands out. One of those pleasant spring nights when it was neither too cold, nor too hot.

'Then?' Asked he, turning behind to look at her. 'Oh he was impressed. Quite impressed, though I did not know what for. He claimed that I had impressed him like no one before. And so, he'd present me with a ... parting gift.' Liam continued, going back to his storytelling voice, which was low and dreamy and coming right from the deepest corner of his heart. 'That gift was a story. And all the other "gifts" I posses, combined together will not account for a quarter of this one, because the aftermath of hearing it felt like a rebirth. A reform and new dawn - you name it.' He said, 'And he answered all my questions with that tale. It is not a part of my life, Alexandra - this story is not. But without it, none of us would have been here, under these names, under these tags. I would not have been king if the past hadn't taken this shape. You would not have been exiled and - and you see, if the Lady with Golden Eyes had not come around, Nicholas, Albert and I would not have been born!'

'What?' Alexandra demanded, sitting up. Where had Nicholas dropped in from? 'How?'

'That is what I'll be telling you, dearest.' Liam replied, his eyes twinkling again. Whatever this story was, he had turned it over in his mind enough times. And now, it was only amusing to him, not as grave as earlier. 'I'll be telling you exactly "what" and exactly "how".' He assured, looking at the moon. 'Not long before we were all born, the ground we stand on today - wait there, the ground we sit on - was ruled by King Oliver. And King Oliver had a son. Don't shout out, don't gasp, and please don't interrupt, Alexandra - the son was Ethan.' 

That was the timeframe of it, the exposition. Of course, like the perfect short story.

'Prince Ethan of Vedessa. And when Prince Ethan was fourteen, he met a winsome princess. Don't shout out, don't gasp, don't interrupt again - because the princess was Sabel. Princess Sabel of Doveland. Who was twelve, at that time. The two young hearts, fell in love. Oh, and what a love that was - sweet and adorable. For a year they met, stealthily or with family. And by and by, the couple fell more and more in love. So much, so that when only fourteen, the Princess was engaged to Ethan. Everybody was happy - the prince and the princess for their love and their families for the easy marital alliance that had fallen into their laps. But Sabel made a small mistake, we shall not call it mistake - we shall call it an innocent act. To keep attendants who are prettier than oneself, is surely innocent. Queens avoid it at all costs, Alexandra - the male race, all of it - by the virtue of being males, is treated as untrustworthy around alluring women. We could say, that is depends upon the person and not the gender. But Ethan was surely one such person. As a ... delicate lady, Sabel wouldn't travel anywhere without an entourage and personal, female bodyguard. Female bodyguards, however - were rather rare. And this one, whom Sabel had chosen, was an orphaned runaway. Of course she was Dovish too, and through some unknown inheritance of extraordinary skill, within a year of training, Cassida - a name she preferred going by - became the Princess' head guard. Only a bodyguard, mind you. Not a companion. Not a person Ethan would have spotted if she wasn't so otherworldly.

'When she was twenty one, Sabel paid a visit to Idgard accompanied by only a few attendants. Prince Ethan, meanwhile, had begun to lose the former interest in Princess Sabel - the natural thing one can expect - because fourteen is an age when a lot of infatuations set in and engagement is rare. While they were talking - or trying to talk, at least - his eyes fell on Cassida. And the Prince ... was smitten.

'He could not lift his eyes off the bewitchingly pretty "Cassida" as she stood at a respectful distance. Her dark hair flying in the dry winds, her jaw set and firm. And her captivating Amber eyes shining like jewels of molten gold.'

A hand reached Alexandra's mouth without her will. And the hand was cold and sweaty. The very idea that this could be Liam's parentage, was unbelievable. A Dovish mother. It made him half Dovish, in essence. When he had begun talking about Aunt Sabel, she had feared that Liam was actually Aunt Sabel's son, somehow - which would make them cousins and ruin her entire life. But no, the twist in the tale had hit her harder. 

Was there, in spite of everything else, one, thin similarity between Liam and his father? Had they both not rejected a Dovish princess, in favor of a comparatively commoner Dovish? Was not the whole "listening to one's heart" trait, widespread in the lineage of Vitus?

'For Prince Ethan,' he continued, unaware of the similarities being drawn, 'there was no thinking twice. Even as the Princess Sabel spoke, he interrupted her, questioning who "that lady with golden eyes" was. Princess Sabel, not being able to see his true intentions, told him the whole tale - added to the fact that the young lady's full name was Cassandra - but she only preferred to go by Cassida. And to Prince Ethan, it allured even more. Without even a warning, he prised the Emerald engagement ring off Sabel's finger and abandoned her. Something she had prized for the past eight years. Something she had grown to love almost as much as Ethan. Prised off her finger with ruthless abandon. And for whom? For a runaway beauty, the lowest born one could find, a lowly servant whom Ethan didn't even know for two seconds. But why would the Prince care? He accosted Cassandra and bared his heart to her. Cassandra, who was a hardened nineteen year old. And she knew the evils of the world, having seen enough herself. When presented with such an offer - to wed the crown prince of a nation. From a street, stray lass to a queen. Although thrilled, Cassandra knew to be wary.

'And so, she decided that either she'd have complete, permanent queen status, or she would rather remain an attendant. Cassandra wanted concrete power - she didn't want to be any man's toy. She asked for a day's time to think. And in the end, after all that mulling over, she decided what to do. The very next day, before accepting the ring from Ethan, she put before him four conditions. The first condition was that he would not touch another woman so long as they were married. The second condition was that no matter what, only her son would sit on the throne of Vedessa. The third was that only she would hold the power to divorce. And the fourth - if he broke any of the first three conditions, Ethan would behead himself. Oh it was crafty, it was rather crafty, I will give my mother as much credit. Or I will give my father as much discredit that he was the rarest of fools who walks the earth only once in a millennium. But then, with that, Cassandra bared herself too. She bared her hungry desire for power. The charmed Ethan didn't think twice before agreeing. He agreed to everything. All the demands. And perhaps he was not to fault, completely - few men would have had the power to resist Cassandra's charm. So, with that - broke the previous engagement. At the last minute. The destroyed Sabel was demented. Lost. Miserable. Left with nothing but bitter remnants. Like broken glass - if she tried to collect them, they only increased her agony. On the other hand, the King Oliver tried hard to make Prince Ethan see sense. But as if the Prince was going to heed. And then, when the King himself met Cassandra, he could not deny her ravishing beauty. Her honorable conduct and dignified speech. He gave in.

'Give it three years and things weren't going as well. Vedessa's throne had passed. But Ethan and Cassandra weren't seeing eye to eye anymore. Cassandra had never been in love. And for Ethan - it had only been another infatuation. He had been hasty, Cassandra had been crafty. He realized Cassandra had used him. He regretted abandoning Sabel at times. Sabel, who was not faring well either. She hadn't got over Ethan yet. If not for the conditions and the hasty vow, Ethan would have long ago wedded Sabel - given her the rank of Chief Queen, ended his relations with Cassandra. Anyhow, polygamy was and is never discouraged. But now he was stuck. Like a noose around his neck, the marriage threatened him everyday. He mentally worsened - because he was already inwardly weak. They had a son already - Albert. And Ethan was trying his best to convince Cassandra to divorce him. He agreed to let Albert sit on the throne. He promised to let her remain in the palace. He put forward all possible ways to end the marriage. But no, Cassandra knew her power as Queen. And she wasn't willing to give it up. Not so soon. Not only after three years. She also feared Sabel coming into the Palace. The intense politics would render her bereft of peace. She feared what her previous mistress would do to her, having won the King's favor. So long as she lived ... no. Cassandra wouldn't allow Sabel in.

'Another habit of Cassandra, which Ethan did not appreciate, was her interference in court matters. She sat next to him, boldly. And interrupted the judgement, the decision, if she didn't approve of it. The citizens came to realize that Queen Cassandra had a fairer hand than the King. That she was, for real, a better monarch. Her growing fame made Ethan infamous. He never forgave her for it. Not that he could do much, anyhow. But finally, on a normal day in court, two years later, as Ethan was talking to an important minister, Cassandra chose the time to divulge a fact. In a low whisper, she informed Ethan, "I'm pregnant." Oh yes she was, and I do feel the peculiarity of it, that the progeny was me.

'Why he did it, I have no idea. Maybe because he didn't want a second child, maybe because it increased the responsibility, or simply because the progeny signified his utter failure. Whatever the reason, before anybody realized a thing, the King's hand shot up in a trance of madness. He slapped the Queen across the face in open court. Cassandra herself, not realizing what her fault was, in it all, lost her temper. Before all the assembled ministers, she unsheathed her dagger - it is not uncommon for queens to carry one. And in the heat of the moment, she swung it at King Ethan, missing him by at least a yard. That one swing, however, was all he needed. Ethan had struck gold - he got the perfect opportunity - and he ordered the guards to imprison Queen Cassandra for treason. For an attempt to murder the reigning monarch. From the attendants, word got out - to even the ministers - that the Queen was pregnant for a second time.

'After a lot of pondering, it was decided that Queen Cassandra, would be executed after she had given birth. None of them wanted the burden of foeticide on their shoulders. Whereas the King would settle for nothing but execution. And so - ended the tale of "that lady with golden eyes". Sabel meanwhile, rejected the proposal to now marry King Ethan. She had grown to hate him. It is true, nobody can hate you as much as a person who someday truly loved you. For Sabel, it became a life mission to have revenge. And nothing could shake it. Not even the knowledge of Cassandra's own pitiable ending.'

Liam stopped. Abruptly enough to shake her. And Alexandra felt disconnected from her own body. Her soul had, somehow, traveled through that tale. She could picture before her eyes, Queen Cassandra - even King Ethan, whom she had never seen, as a tall, dirty blonde haired man. She could feel the intense politics. The desperation of Aunt Sabel, the infatuation of Ethan and the greediness of King Oliver - for having not stopped his son. She could even picture the one, fatal mistake of Queen Cassandra. Her hand raised with a dagger, in the Idgardian court. She was at a loss for words.

But there was more to the story. And Liam continued.

'Ariston left me under that staggering weight.' He said, 'But he added two more words of lucid advice. "There you go, young prince. Now you know where you come from. And since you do - you must have realized whom you have taken after. Your mother, prince, was a rare woman. But her fatal flaw was power. Her hunger for power and her inability to control it. You must realize what a dangerous addiction power is, young prince. A lot of it will come your way. Have you not already recognized the immense strengths - apart from physical - that you have? Maybe not yet. But one day, you will. And then - you must control you own power. Control it, Prince, and it will do you some good. But fail to do so - and the power will control you. History is witness, those who have let power control them have never had a desirable end." Even after more than two decades, his words are burned into my memory. All of them. The setting, the time - over the years, other memories have become fuzzy. But this one refuses to blur. And I'm glad it does.

'Ariston simply left. I was too numb to register how and when, but it was without another word. I considered his talks - almost suspecting them to be false. But somewhere, deep inside, I knew it was all true. And with each passing day, his statements made more and more sense. At twenty one, there came the proposal of Olivia. That was the first time I said "no" to King Ethan. He pressed, by then he had made peace with the fact that I was going to succeed him, and that I was not the kind of person I had been threatening to become, as a kid. But I was certainly not going to marry Olivia. That is where I answer you, Alexandra. I didn't wed - because I was scared. I was scared I would end up with the wrong person and pay for it my whole life. Much like my father, who had, in the end - failed from all sides. As a son, as a lover, as a husband, as a father. As a monarch. A King, too - he failed. Or that as my mother - I would end up being toyed with until I wasn't needed anymore. I had decided I didn't mind if it wasn't a princess. There should be mutual love. And most of all, a lady whom I could respect so much that come what may - I wouldn't be able to repeat my father's disgusting act. For which he should have been punished, but went unnoticed just because he was a King. I want to spend my life with the Queen on whom I wouldn't think of raising my voice, let alone my hand. I do not want to repeat any of their clashes. And of course Ethan wasn't happy when I declined. Of course he wanted me to do as he said. His words had no affect whatsoever. They wouldn't have any affect anymore. All I remembered, each time I saw him, was the mad glint in his drunk, besotted eyes before killing Albert. I almost wanted to end him. I often feel that way - madly angry, vengeful and vindictive. Anger is the second side of power, those who wield power must control their rage. And with Ariston's words I've learnt to control that leaping rage. Anger is fire. So what if you have started the fire? So what if the anger is yours? They still hold the power to burn you.

'And after that single "no", plenty of things changed. One of them being that Ethan was left the King only in name. I don't think "wrested" will be the right word. Maybe I should say I "took" the powers from him. One by one, until he didn't even need to pass the throne. It smoothly fell into my hands - and for a man who had done so much harm, I think Ethan got an easy death. And I still wait, Alexandra... that one day, Ariston is going to be back in Idgard. Something tells me he isn't dead. If he ever does - I'd love to ask if things turned out the way he had foreseen them. And now, maybe for the sake of justice to the story - I'll tell you what happened with Sabel.

'For twenty years she brooded over the past. Lost all her attractiveness and beauty. Her brother- your father- that's where he does his part. He wouldn't have an unwed sister in the way. So he did what royal brothers do best: he gave her off to the King of Ethoris. You know their age difference, Alexandra? Maybe not- because it was never talked of, kept well hidden. But that King was a good twenty three years older to Sabel. Of course that does not mean she is free of fault. That she is all sunshine and rainbows. No. But are we free of fault? Is anybody free of fault?'

And that was the worst part. Alexandra remembered Sabel calling her "Cassandra". All those tales. Those complex intermixing of destinies were swirling in Alexandra's head. Almost everything made sense to her now. Aunt Sabel crushing the ring, being so vindictive and crazy. Having only a nine year old son. Liam's never-fueled temper, his mystery. And now that the plot was all open - she felt more than ever before - how tiny and insignificant she was. In all of these big names and plots and lives, where did she stand? Her story was nothing when compared to those. 

Was she really like Cassandra?