"May I enter, m'lady?" A voice beckons from beyond the ornate, white door gilded in golden vines and leaves.
"Please, come in." Aribelle Lindbergh answers, fluffing the layers of her dress and gently setting her hair. She sits on a carved stool at the foot of a grand, sun-drenched bed in a guest suite of The Tower of the Sun, tallest spire on the eastern flank of the Royal Palace.
The chamber sits high above the palace courtyard. Large, spacious and airy. It's sights and smells like a summer glade. Flora fills the room, living and sculpted. Its walls, pillars and floor are all an elegant fusion of polished stone and wood. The peace of nature echoed through every corner.
Ironic, Aribell thinks, considering her confinement.
The door flings open. A Royal guard steps aside with a nod to reveal Crown Prince Orwellin.
Aribelle stands swiftly. "The dawn smiles upon you, Your Majesty." She greets, bowing low with a curtsy.
"And upon you, Lady Lindbergh." The Prince responds with a soft nod. "How fares the morning?"
"Well, my Lord. Thanks only to your kindness." Aribelle responds, keeping her gaze low.
The Prince smiles as he enters. "Sorry to keep you waiting. My father required tending."
Lifting her gaze slightly. "How fares his Grace?" she asks.
"... Good, in a way." The Prince responds, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. "His bloom draws near. The Royal garden has been prepared."
"I wish him the sweetest harvest." Aribelle replies with a whisper.
"That aside," The Prince scoffs, blowing through his nose. "I wish to continue our conversations from yesterday."
Aribelle blushes faintly. "As you wish, Your Majesty."
"I apologize again for yesterday's interruption. Reports of raiders on the western glades."
"I hope they won't…"
"No, they won't." The Prince interrupts with a smile. " About yesterday's conversation…"
"Prince Orwellin, if I may." Aribelle interrupts.
The Prince tilts his head and nods.
"Y-Your Majesty. I can't thank you enough for what you've done. Truly, I thought my life forfeit the moment I was brought before you. But, ever since, you have shown me nothing but mercy and grace."
"You spare me too much gratitude, m'lady. Your care befits your station. That is all."
"But, my Lord. This room. My clothes. Your kindness…" Aribelle says, falling to her knees. "I deserve nothing of what you bestow me. I have wronged. I should be in your dungeons, not the Tower of the Sun. I don't…"
"Enough." He snaps, his voice like stone on flint. "Get off the floor, please."
Aribelle bolts upright, smoothing off her gown. "Apologies, my Lord."
The Prince sighs, arms crossed, his brow resting on a gloved hand. "Sit, Lady Lindbergh. And please, let us drop the formalities. What is done is done. You are now under my care. Will you continue to pester me with platitudes?"
Aribelle flusters, she falls to her seat, her lips pressed shut.
The Prince watches her for a moment, then begins pacing about the room.
"Lady Lindbergh, the truths you hold may have the power to reshape this kingdom. You stand at the eye of a storm that threatens to swallow Guild and Church alike. To undo the legacies that they have built over millennia. You are a threat, and they will not stand idly by and watch you destroy them. So, until the storm passes, you will be under my care and protection, Lady Lindbergh. I have a vested interest in your well being. One young woman brings down the two greatest institutions in the kingdom, through the procedural processes of the court. What better way to show the power of true justice? Do you understand?"
Aribelle gives a curt nod. "I think I do, m'lord"
"Good, then about that conversation. You were going to tell me about yourself, yes? About the real Aribelle Lindbergh."
"Your Majesty? I'm not sure I…"
The Prince lifts a finger toward Aribelle, her instinct forces her to stop talking.
With a slow, deliberate strut, he moves deeper into the room, closer. Her shoulders tighten as a shiver travels up her spine.
"May I?" he asks, pointing to a chair only a few feet away from her.
"O-of course, Your Grace!" She stutters.
"Thank you."
He slides smoothly into the seat, leaning deep into the backrest as he crosses both arms and legs.
"Just pretend we've never met. Now, tell me who you are."
Aribelle swallows her fears and, with a deep breath, begins to explain her past and background.
The Prince scoffs. "I already know about that, Aribelle Lindbergh. Our court historians are quite thorough, I assure you. I know about Aribelle Lindbergh who had planted her own forest by the age of 20. Who had achieved the rank of senior adept by 30, youngest in the Guild's history. Created the school of Verdant Symbiotic Magic." The Prince smiles. "The list goes on. Alchemy, transmutation, and what was it… ah, yes. The Lingbergh Bloom. There is a lot to know about you, m'lady. To call your achievements great, would be a gross understatement."
Aribelle's eyes expand. "You've done your research."
"I always do," The Prince smirks. "You're a fascinating woman, Lady Lindbergh. I look forward to working with you."
"Working with me? Your Highness, I'm afraid your words bring much confusion."
He chuckles. "On your case."
She stares at him dumbfounded. "Oh…"
He snickers. "I apologize, m'lady. Your face… Please forgive me."
Aribelle pouts, but the Prince's soft brown eyes thump at her, forcing her frustrations into submission. "Forgiven, Your Majesty…" She nods with a mutter.
"Then I would hope you remember our talk the day before last. I spoke upon the tenants of justice I wish to instill upon my kingdom."
Aribelle nods firmly.
"One of which is equal and fair representation. But, it seems the court has yet to meet me on this. They refuse to provide a representative. Without one, you will not be afforded a fair trial, I can assure you. The ways of our kingdom's laws are intricate and easily misconstrued."
"I'm sorry, Prince." Aribelle laments. "Yet again, I burden you further with the consequences of my actions."
The Prince smiles. "A small price to pay for fair justice. And, why I have taken it upon myself to be your representative in the case against you. We will work together closely over the coming days. I will have you guide me, step-by-step on the events of that night…"
Prince Orwellin's words hit her like a spell. Her heart flutters. She slumps into her seat beset by a sudden daze.
The prince lunges forward, slipping his hand behind her neck as she falls back onto the bed behind her.
"Lady Lindbergh!"
"Y-Your Highness. I don't deserve this. Please. A kingdom needs you."
"And so do you, Aribelle Lindbergh." He flicks a pillow beneath her head with a whispered spell and gently lays her down.
"Your Majesty…"
The Prince lifts to his feet, dusting off his gloves and turning toward the door.
"I fluster you, Lady Lindbergh. This is not ideal for our working relationship and the successful outcome of your case. I hope we will overcome this barrier, soon. We have hard labor ahead of us if we wish to bring light to the Church and Guild's misdoings. We will meet on the day after tomorrow to discuss the teleportation incident. Till then, please take the time to consider our relationship. In order for this to work, honesty, brevity and candor must prevail. Good day, m'lday."
The Prince slips out of the room, gently closing the door behind him.
Aribelle lay on the bed, her breathing rapid. Pulse pounding in her ears.
A sudden clacking startles her.
She sits up, twisting her head to a window, a small black bird slaps its beak incessantly on a glass pane.
Shooing it away, she slumps back into bed, limbs splayed as she contemplates her circumstances.
More clacking.
She grabs a pillow and lazily tosses it toward the window. "Go away! I need to think!"
Loud clacks are followed by screeching caws and wild flapping.
"What do you want? I'm not in the..." Aribelle scowls, but her eyes narrow and she slinks to the window. Watching the bird's strange movements more closely, alternating wing flaps, clapping its beak in strange patterns and poking at the window latch, she gasps."
"L-Luna?"
"CAW!" it replies.
Aribelle unlatches the window and the bird bursts in as soon as space allows. A moment later, Lunara Duskvale erupts into the room in a shower of black feathers.
"Trolls taint! That wind nearly killed me!" she exclaims, naked and rubbing at her arms.
Aribelle lunges at her, slapping a hand onto Luna's mouth. "Guards!"
Luna nods.
"What are you doing here?" Aribelle hisses.
"Apparently, watching you get cozy with royalty." Luna quips with a sly wink.
"It's not like that. He's been helping me. The courts are…"
"I know, Bella" Luna cuts in. "I've been snooping around." she smirks, tapping at her nose.
Luna pulls back, twirls her hands, whispering a strange incantation. A black, void-like sphere appears, she reaches inside, retrieving a guild robe.
"W-What's that?" Aribelle splutters.
"Spatial magic." Luna smiles smugly. "I'm still working on it. A few more years and I'll be ready to start my own school of magic. Just like you, Master."
Aribelle smiles widely, overcome with the joy of seeing a familiar, friendly face, she tackles Luna in a tight embrace. "I missed you!"
"And me you, m'lady. The laboratory feels so empty with you. Although," Luna steps back, inspecting Aribelle's decadent gown. Multilayered, covered in living flora and metal embellishments. "I must say, the look suits you. Much cuter than your guild robes. You look radiant."
"Ugh!" Aribelle sighs. "A prisoner wrapped in petals. My days at the guild are over. I've been excommunicated. The Prime Magister detests me. And the Grand Vicar wishes me drawn, quartered and tossed beyond the stormwall. The only reason I live is due to the Prince's mercy."
"Oh, I think there may be another reason the Prince lets you live, Lady Lindbergh." Luna chuckles.
Aribelle slaps at her. "You jest, Lady Duskvale. But it's your infernal pendant that got me into this mess. Where did you find it?"
"Forest witch." Luna says bluntly.
"What!?" Aribelle yelps, wide eyed.
"It was supposed to be a joke. It's a cursed charm that's supposed to lead you to the thing you fear most. I thought it would lead you to a spider nest, or something."
"Or something, indeed, you bog brain!" Aribelle snaps. "It led me to the Dark Lord's construct."
Luna's face pales. "What happened? The court documents allege you sabotaged the teleportation spell."
"I didn't." Aribelle counters, tightening her gaze. "I destroyed a forbidden construct."
She goes on to recount the events of the evening to Luna who listens intently, clasping Aribelle's hand as the woman struggles through her recollections.
"Spirits above! The implications!". Luna gasps. "Your life is certainly in danger."
"Indeed. But the Prince has taken well care of me. He protects me, though I sit confined in this gilded cage."
"It's a bloody beautiful cage."
Aribelle chuckles.
"He likes you."
"No, Luna. Don't start! He needs me. He wants to change the kingdom. For the better, I think. Bringing justice to the Guild and Church for their wrongdoing is really important to him."
"Which makes you important to him."
Aribelle rolls her eyes.
The two go on to spend the morning in deep, whispered conversation, digging into Aribelle's predicament and the happenings of the Verdant Symbiology Lab at the guild, which Aribelle had led, until her recent actions.
A knock at the door would cut short their conversion, "Your lunch, m'lady."
"Time to go." Luna groans, pulling a vial from her robes. "I'll see you soon Bella." She whispers, grabbing Aribelle in a quick embrace. "I'll head back to the Guild. See what I can uncover. Look after my things."
Aribelle nods. "Spirits watch over you. Be careful, Luna."
Lunara swallows the contents of the vial and transforms into a raven. Her robes drop to the floor in a heap around her as she zips out the window.
Aribelle stares out the window, forlorn. The palace courtyard spread out below her, and the sprawling capital city beyond its walls. The wilds of Northenia surround it in all directions.
She sighs, basking for a moment in the warm sun as she rubs at her sister's pendant.
"I know you're out there, Anna." she mutters onto the wind. "May The Spirits guide us home."