Anodyne's Garden

The garden was alive with noise, though Anodyne revelled in it in a way that he did no other cacophony. The lilies sang to him sweetly, and the young oaks groaned. The grass whispered under his bare feet, and the roses giggled at the subtle wind. There was not a man or woman alive who was allowed into his garden uninvited, not even the King. The magic was sacred and while it would not bar entry, it would certainly cause discomfort and the High Council would bring about heady punishment to those who would violate the private garden of any floramage, let alone that of prince, disinherited or not. The birds sang to him above the sounds of the flora, an accompaniment that made him ache for the return of his sight. It had been so long that he no longer remembered what color a Robin was, or the shape of a cardinal's crest. It was an old wound, but the pain of it still cut him when he least expected. 

The sound of a raven's caw! startled Anodyne, calling him from his sorrow. It was a jarring sound in the peaceful garden, filtering down to the smaller birds who thrilled in alarm and the trees and flowers which swayed and rustled in warning. 

Something was amiss. 

He focused for a long moment, and-there! A footstep, too large to be a cat or dog, but light-footed, like a huntsman or one of Auraline's elite guards. Stealthy and certainly up to no good. An assassin? It had happened that attempts were made against the Crown or the Royal General, but what use would Anodyne's death serve? He was disinherited and to the eyes of the public and the courts, and even the King himself, useless for anything of merit. He was blind and in their eyes, mute. Unless someone knew of his role as the Princess General's spy. But then, there would be a larger betrayal at hand. Anodyne would need to survive this encounter to warn his sister of the danger. His bare feet treaded quietly in the grass, his light cloak offering barely a rustle, designed for the purpose of stealth, with the minimum royal frippery to appease the King and his court. He slipped among the trees, brushing past the roses whose thorns blunted for him. He would capture this would-be assassin, and leave them to the Princess General herself. 

He knelt behind the bushes which arranged themselves to hide him and touched the ground, gathering the power in the earth, the warmth of the autumn soil, and remnants generations of Royal Mages cultivating in these walls. The light footfalls, only detectable for his exceptionally sensitive hearing continued along the path, creeping closer and closer. Anodyne gathered the energy, pushing it to a point along the path that the intruder would surely touch in just moments. He felt it through the earth when leather booted feet touched the gathering place, and pushed into it a large burst, wrapping thorned vines up first one leg, then the other. A grunt revealed the person to be a man, and a shout of pain revealed him to be inexperienced at this work. No seasoned assassin would cry out at the feel of a handful of thorns and a tight grip. 

"What the bloody hell! Damned thorns! Only in this wicked place. Belial! Help me get this lose! Ouch!" The voice was young, not yet harsh with age, but not so young as to be a child. Twenty winters or more. The raven cawed yet again, and the man began to curse at it. "Belial, you bastard! Stop laughing and help me! I'm to speak to the King this afternoon and I cannot go to him looking like a ruffian. No! Don't you dare! Get off my head, you idiot!"

Anodyne stood, listening to the flapping of large wings and the man's distressed growling as he tightened his grip on the stranger. He was either the worst assassin in history, or he was simply an idiot, wandering where it was forbidden. He must have made a noise, as the stranger seemed to freeze. Anodyne could feel his attention, focused and intent as it was. 

"Is this your doing?" The man asked. "It's a terrible joke, if so. You floramages seem to have awful senses of humor, pretty as you are." 

Anodyne felt a scowl form on his face. This man was clumsy and blunt in his speech. But he'd spoken of meeting with the king. He stepped closer, wrinkling his nose at the potent smell of animal, the likes of which the prince had never smelled before. It clicked after a long moment. Beastmage. And his raven companion must be his bonded animal.

Anodyne shifted his cloak away from his face to show the beastmage that he was not dealing with some common floramage and should act accordingly. His long silver hair was at least a hint that Anodyne was far from common. It was a trait found only in Royal blood. 

"OH, shit, you must be the Princess General! I mean, sorry, you look...different than I imagined."

Rage swelled in Anodyne's chest. To be mistaken for a woman, even one as fierce and powerful as his sister, was slanderous and while not surprising given the salacious rumors that surrounded his purpose in court, burned fury into his core. 

The man cried out as the vines tightened, dropping to the ground with a thump. 

"Ill-mannered bastard," Anodyne growled in a rough, unused voice. "You are trespassing on the sacred grounds of a florimage's personal garden. The High Council will have much to say."

"Not-not the Princess General then!" The man choked out nervously, a quiet shing! sounding, causing Anodyne to tense.

That had surely been a blade.

But the knife point began to cut at his vines rather than aiming at the prince himself, and Anodyne growled out in another authoritative bark, "Not a woman! You will follow me, Beastmage!" And then he released the grip his magic had on the vines, causing them to slowly release the man on their own. 

He began to march for the gate, cloak billowing behind him, giving little thought to stealth. The stranger was slow to follow, but scrambled to his feet and limped after him. 

"Who are you?!" He snarled.

"Where are you taking me?" The beast-mage countered. Anodyne thought for a long moment. He would not speak in the presence of the council, but Auraline was still in residence. He could take the man to her guards, but most of them had never heard him speak either. 

"The General's guard," he snapped. 

The stranger seemed to weigh his answer, following quietly after Anodyne. 

"I am Prince Kyas of the Raven's Wing, eighth son of the late King Janus of the Wolf Pack. Seventh in line for the Throne of Dravec," came a much calmer, much more formal voice behind him, and Anodyne's step faltered as it hadn't since childhood. 

"Are prince's of Dravec not briefed on the laws of foreign nations they are to visit?" He asked in a low tone as they approached the gate.

"Uh..."

"The private gardens of Mages are sacred and forbidden. Doubly so the private gardens of Royal mages. Your status may afford you leniency, but that will be for Auraline to decide." 

"Auraline? You mean..." There was trepidation in the eighth prince's voice, uncertainty and perhaps in contrast something hopeful.

"The Princess General. My sister." 

"Your...sister?" The uncertainty swelled in the man's voice.

"Yes," was all Anodyne answered as they  swept through garden gate, leaving the sanctuary of ancient magic that caressed him as he passed. 

"Ah. I apologize for my rudeness, I have been a terrible guest," the prince blurted clumsily. Anodyne said nothing as they walked through the outer public gardens, stride purposeful but quiet, feet still bare, though he barely noticed. He passed a pair of travelers that spoke in a high country accent, a Varesh dignitary and what may have been his servant given the way he spoke to her, and three members of the High Council who paused their garden stroll as he stormed past, the eighth prince following in his wake. It was too late to hide or to pretend he was on anything but an important mission, and he realized too late that his hood lay around his neck, revealing his naked face as it rarely was. 

He simply brushed past them as if he didn't even know they were there and continued on to the outer gate, striding past those entering with ease, Kyas taking long steps to keep up. It was a quick journey from the gardens to Auraline's public office, and then to her private offices. He spoke no words to the guards, and ignored the other prince's quiet questions as they were let through to the outer office, and then the quiet creak of the hidden door, opened by a silent guard to the stairs that led to Auraline's private offices. The quiet steps of the guard followed behind Kyas, a near silent threat should he be hostile. 

By the subtle smell of Ivy that floated up with their ascension, it was Orian that followed, a comfort in his familiarity and the trust that Auraline had always placed in the soldier turned guard. He spoke nearly as little as Anodyne.

As he counted the steps, the foreign prince's nerves seemed to rattle in the quiet. He had seemed healthy, but his breath picked up and his steps faltered just the slightest bit. 

At the hundred and seventh step, Anodyne stopped and put out a hand; there was a door, heavy and gilded, Mage locked and nearly impenetrable if not for the knowledge of its key. Anodyne focused on the door under his hand, picturing a Death Lily, deceptively delicate and beautiful, it's scent sweet and it's sound soft and compelling. The door gave a loud groan and swept open. The air in Auraline's private outer office was clearer and tinged with that sweet lily smell, a sure sign that Auraline spent much of her time there.

"You've come early, big brother. I was going to call for you at the supper hour, when I'd be free to drink with you." Her voice was dark and husky for a woman's, a result perhaps of living most of her life among soldiers, drinking and sharing their fires. "And who have you brought me? A foreigner certainly, and one who smells like a barn." Her voice was rough, but it was said with humor. 

"A trespasser," Anodyne growled as the eighth prince cleared his throat.

"I am Prince Kyas of Dravec and as I said before, I meant no offense. I was simply lost."

"A trespasser? Is that not the business of the guard?" Auraline teased, though who she was teasing was anyone's guess. 

"I-in all technicalities, you are the head of the guard. So I brought him to you."

Auraline laughed in that vicious way she had that was both beautiful and cutting. "Hmm...technicalities, huh? What did you say to him, that he spoke to you? He's quite angry with you, Prince of Dravec."

There was a long, embarrassed pause. At this, Anodyne felt a mild humor beginning to blossom, though he was still furious at both the imposition and the insult. The other prince was standing before the woman for whom he'd mistaken a man. 

"Well, go on then," Anodyne growled. "Explain it to her. Be sure to leave nothing out."

"I...well, when I was caught in the vines, I may have been too distracted to give the Prince a proper look, and without a voice...and a close look, it's quite easy to mistake the prince for...well...a woman."

Auraline made a choked little sound that Anodyne knew to be withheld amusement, but Kyas' nerves seemed to increase. He wondered if she was smiling in that way she had that bared all her teeth and made men terrified of her. It was likely. 

"Go on," she goaded. She was certainly smiling. 

"Ah...I thought, well, with the hair, he certainly must be royalty, and...I know of no other Princesses of Claudius' line than Princess General Auraline. He became quite irate after that." It was said in a contrite, embarrassed tone, though Anodyne knew that the Eighth Prince was amused by the whole thing. 

Auraline certainly was. 

"Oh?" She responded with barely contained laughter.

"He trespassed in my garden and offered grave insult, and I've no idea his purpose here."

"And yet, you spoke to him. I imagine his purpose here has something to do with the meeting he has with the King this afternoon, a question of treatise, and a marriage between Dravec and Galahied to further the relationship. If I had to guess. Dravec wants little to do with the conflict that creeps closer to it's borders and is making moves to prevent such a thing from happening. How close am I, Prince of Dravec?"

"Immensely close." The man sounded a bit awestruck. 

"But marriage is unlikely to work," Anodyne pointed out.

"But...why is that?"

"As the Princess General, I am not to marry a man for fear of creating a second lineage to compete with the direct line to the throne, as I already control much of Galahied's power center, and while I may marry a woman in my own time, Dravec has much different views on marriage than those of Galahied. And the Crown Prince has been engaged for several years now," Auraline said in a tolerant voice, one she often used for the courts. 

"I see one other option," Kyas said, and Anodyne's heart skipped a beat as he realized what was coming next, the other turning to face him. "You are the elder Prince, but not the Crown Prince.  What of your status? Must you also forgo a natural marriage?" He asked, a challenge in his voice.

"Yes," Anodyne growled. 

"It's unprecedented, but it is likely that the council and King will rule that way," Auraline explained. "My brother is unlike any elder prince on record, but he will likely be treated as a third child, and be forbidden from procreation. Your time here may come to little if you are hinging on a marriage union."

Kyas was quiet for a long time, so long that Anodyne was readying himself to leave Auraline's office when he finally spoke. 

"I will try regardless, and if King Claudius will not relent, I have been granted certain rights to negotiate as an embassador. I'm certain something can be arranged."

There was silence as they processed what was said. Anodyne was the first to speak, outrage bubbling as he understood what the Dravecian prince meant.

"You would consent to you or one of your brothers marrying the rejected heir of Galahied? I am blind and you are the first person I have spoken to other than my sister in nearly seven years!" Anodyne snarled. 

"It may not be a terrible idea," Auraline interrupted, voice pensive, "if you have the authority that you claim."

"They will not like it, but I've been given the authority to negotiate anything that does not bring harm to the nation, even an unholy marriage." There was the sound of shifting cloth, creaking leather and a soft rasping sound that Anodyne could only guess was a hand scratching through a beard. The man was nervous, but determined. It didn't bode well.

"Unholy?" Auraline repeated in a dangerous tone. "Careful Prince, that you not insult those you seek union with."

"I'd have rather you been an assassin," Anodyne growled out in what even he knew was a surly tone, before he turned and swept from the office, once again passing Orian, who acknowledged him with a quiet, "my Prince," as he fled, once more to his garden.