"Now, now, children. Behave. Please don't fight with your sister, Iracebeth. I'm sure you could come to an agreement," the royal tailor mediated as he always did when the princesses came toplay with his own children. He was always kind, but he had a bit firmer hand when it came to his children. Always patient, though. Always kind.
"It's not fair!" Iracebeth roared back at him, "Why does Mirana get to be the oldest!?"
The tailor sighed at the usual complaint before beginning his usual statement. "Iracebeth, I know you want to be Queen one day, but that's just not what life has planned out for you." This statement used to be a long, uplifting speech, but as the years had drifted by, the speech had been worn down, as time does to all things that are over-used.
"Perhaps life planned for me to end your life, Draxler Hightopp! Have you ever thoguht of that!?"
The tailor was used to death threats, so he simply replied with "Hush, child, and return to your game," as he turned his back to the group of children and began his work again.
Iracebeth nearly replied with the threat that she would one day have his head, but was interrupted by Tarrant Hightopp trying to coax her into a lighter mood. Mirana then took her chance to apologize on her sister's behalf. No one could be sure if she really believed her sister to be kinder, but, in fact, she believed that one day she would outgrow her bitter attitude and grow to appreciate the life she led. It was an astounding that she could believe this even though her parents ordered guards to protect her while she slept in fear of Iracebeth's rage.
Mirana had hope that bightened the room and calmed the old tailor, astounding at the age of eleven. Iracebeth was nine and had a temper as short as her curly, red hair. They were sisters, daughters of the Queen and King of Wonderland. They were good people, which provided reason for the argument that Iracebeth was just going through a rebellious phase. Tarrant, though, thought perhaps you just had to work past it. He thought that if you could see inside, that if she trusted you and you knew her well enough, you could whisper in her ear what her conscience should have told her. That you could appeal to her, and perhaps she would listen. He was convinced that he should do it, and he was the most qualified. He was oldest, he had spent most of his life watching her grow, and he seemed to be the only one who thought this approach could be taken. He had told his father of his theory once, and then was told that it couldn't work. His father had said that you couldn't work the darkness out of the ones it had slithered into. But Tarrant was filled with a niave belief that he could save her. He loved her too much to let her stay this way. He wanted the best for her, and rage never led to the best.
