Arden, the meek and innovative daughter of an Artist-For-Hire hides behind an admiration of her father's works to conceal her own (unencouraged) love of painting. By chance, Arden is discovered by the Queen Elza, a lover of art herself. Arden is whi...
Another evening of her new life approaches and she finds herself following a handsome man through the complex gardens, turning down random corridors of paths cut between the trees. Arden wonders at how Mayven doesn't get lost. Then again, he has grown up here.
"Won't you tell me where we are going?" Arden asks as the trees growth patterns begin to look more natural and thinned out, opening up to a rolling landscape unscarred with any sign of human existence. A quaint lake catches the blush and tangerine colors of the sky, bare branches reflecting on the surface like a dark spiderweb. Suddenly, Arden wishes she had brought painting supplies with her. "I would love to just...sit out here and paint." She mutters, mostly to herself. Her statement is met with a gentle gaze from the eyes of a handsome man, once more alighting strange feelings within her. Feelings she quickly dismisses.
They wander a little longer, traipsing carelessly over a slight incline. Mayven offers his hand as support, an offer Arden graciously declines, afraid of how it might feel to touch his hand again. "I can manage, thank you."
Breathlessly, they reach the top and to Arden's surprise, a sight of unexpected quaint beauty washes over her, introducing her to a world she never imagined she would find in the depths of the Palace grounds.
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A small, shimmering pond is all that divides Arden from the pseudo village. Void of any human activity at the moment, Arden is left to absorb the scene of country life concealed within the forest of the Palace.
"What is this place?"
"The Queen's escape." Mayven answers. "She comes here more and more, supposedly escaping from the taxing stress of life at court." A sly smile peels across his chiseled features. "No one who wants to can prove it, but she's said to bring her lovers here."
Arden watches the way his expression changes into one of mild distress. "And you are one of those who want to prove it?"
Mayven shrugs, glancing at Arden curiously. "Can I trust you?"
Arden nods. "Believe me, I am the last person to share a secret that can't be shared."
"In that case," Mayven sits down in the tall, breezy grass. "The Queen has been rather indifferent to me which is more than most bastards can claim of their Father's wife. Father tried to legitimize me a few years ago and she refused. If she were no longer Queen, he would legitimize me and I would be entitled to more than just a place in the militia."
Arden feels an instant connection. An understanding of each other. "I suppose we all are restricted in one way or another."
"I can't claim to be restricted. I am blessed more than others. But I am the oldest of the children my father has sired. And between my brother and I, I am not afraid to say I am more capable of being King than he."
Arden is surprised to hear Mayven speak so freely, unconcerned with how his words might be interpreted. Some might even argue what he says as treason, but all Arden hears is another individual like herself feeling robbed of so much potential. A small shadow, standing in the larger shadow of another, feeling their possibilities strained between the constraints of a larger, more successful person. Finally, she sits next to him, ignoring the warmth of his shoulder so close to hers.
"Does the King love your mother?"
Mayven nods slowly. "I'd like to think so. I don't think he keeps her around strictly for pleasure. Everyone says he does but...I've seen the way he looks at her and smiles at her. I have never felt like he used her. And I have never seen him look at or speak to Queen Elza in the same way."
Arden lets out a gentle sigh, grasping at the grass beside her, snapping a few blades. "My father used to look at my mother that way. Something died between them though. Mother blames father and father doesn't talk about it. I never know what to believe."
"That's why you're here?"
Arden smiles. "No, I am here because the Queen liked me for some reason."
"I doubt it was just for 'some' reason." Mayven says, leaning back onto his hands. He could say more and Arden senses that he wants to, but his lips press together in a line and instead of speaking, he looks upward at the sky, seeming to examine every detail in the waves of the clouds.
Arden likes that, the way he stops speaking before he's said all he could. "So if you aren't preparing to be King, what do you do all day?"
Mayven turns to face her. "Plan my escape."
For a brief moment, Arden believes her, that sentiment showing on her face, but as soon as Mayven breaks into a smile, she realizes she's been fooled and in turn, lets out a hearty laugh. "Oh! You're teasing me."
"Mostly I help father strategize. The Queen is consuming all the country's funds and if we don't find out how to appease the people, riots will ensue as soon as they realize that the only recession we are in is due to their Monarchy."
Arden's mouth falls open. "I didn't realize there was an issue."
"No," Mayven answers. "But the lower class likely does or will soon. It is a new development but she doesn't seem to care much. Father says if she continues being so frivolous, we will all lose our heads to rioters in the next five years."
Arden lets out a shaky sigh, leaning back to match Mayven's posture. "It's funny how little one can be aware of when they aren't included in politics."
Mayven and Arden spend the next thirty minutes speaking of politics and state of the country before he begins asking about her. "So aside from Queen Elza's invitation, why are you here? Surely leaving your family was not easy."
Arden bites her lips, thankful for the lowering sun to hide her expression.
