A Forgotten Legend: Anaivere the First

Special Chapter: Poppy and Mistletoe

An extraordinary chapter to celebrate Christmas and to informally introduce the Author's ever favourite creation, the eldest of all despite staying at the bottom of the timeline.

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24 December 1201,... Nottingham...

Though Anaivere wasn't a sick child, the coldness of winter more often than not made her feel uncomfortable. The fireplace in her chamber didn't have enough warmth and the winds that came through the windows were always freezing. She wanted to go outside, but seeing the snow falling white the castle's roofs, her instinct told her not to.

"Do not practise archery indoor, milady!"

Said the voice of her lady-in-waiting as she was to open the closet. More than ten years taking care of the young princess had helped Sylvia Walther well. More often than not in the winter, the princess's arrow would invariably break some windows or vase or something Sylvia was holding at that time. Not that the princess was a destructive person, just that indoor archery was rather dangerous and the castle was a small place. Anaivere sighed and closed the closet.

"Oi, darling!"

That voice caused Anaivere to go speechless for a moment. There was no way that person could be here at this very time... Slowly and awkwardly looking to her left, here, her familiar little Excellency was seen sitting on the windowsill, greeting Anaivere with a smile. It was hard to tell, whether that smile was genuine or just a façade to ease the sorrows.

"Your Excellency, are you not supposed to visit me this season, I mean, it is so cold outside?"

"Why I cannot visit my dear children? Tell me, darling, would you like to go somewhere different this time? A place you will not be able to imagine... Not peaceful, but memorable?"

"Not peaceful, but memorable? The place that I cannot imagine?"

"Yes", nodded the Author, "a battlefield, actually, but worry not about safety, my child, you have your Author here!"

And again, with a whip of the little divinity's fingers, their surrounding faded away to give way to another. When everything regained its colour, Anaivere could feel mud under her boots and the helpless screams of men from afar. Faint snow and rain poured down her face, and the scent of dirt, smoke and burnt wood could be smelled in the air. They were in a ditch of sort, and above their heads were bags of sand wedged between layers of dirt and spiky ropes. In front of Anaivere's eyes was a war which unlike anything she had heard or seen.

"Welcome to France, seven centuries into your future, dear!"

Seven centuries, that was actually how much time had passed since her era, Anaivere wondered.

"More people died in this war than all the Crusades combined, it is deadly, but not without some peaceful moments...!"

Right after that, a person in blue commander uniform climbed down the ditch, urgently announced to the other soldiers who were in the same ditch as them: "Ceasefire for Christmas, gentlemen! Ceasefire!". The soldiers sighed in relief as the sound of war above their heads had seemed to halt. They sat down despite the mud, some craned their neck above the edge to confirm themselves if it was actually ceasefire, and some celebrated as some packages, which were not grenades, were thrown into their laps. That commander then took off their hat, revealed a vaguely familiar visage which Anaivere believed to have seen somewhere in the past.

"Well, what a child is doing in here?", said the commander with a smirk, looking at Anaivere and the Author's direction, apparently had noticed them.

"Actually, this is—", replied Anaivere, but was cut short.

"If someone should see me at this place and at this moment, it would better be my ancestor Hortense, not this princess, am I correct...?"