364 B.C. - Idgard

If you are patient in one moment of anger, you will escape a hundred days of sorrow.
- Chinese Proverb

Ophelia's day was going good.

As the seventeen year old Heir of Vedessa, "good" days were not something she often saw. Unless of course, she had one of those private meetings with her father, to look forward to.

All her life, Ophelia had been thrilled by the amount of similarity she wore to him. She didn't disclose this fact to anybody. Ophelia acted quite normal, calm and composed. But secretly, she was rather pleased with her physical features.

And the Idgardians had already begun considering "Amber Eyes and Dark Hair" as the necessary features in a heir: ever since Ophelia had been announced one, a month ago. Those who had seen the iron hand of Queen Cassandra, swore that the lady had been born wrong - that she should have been born the King of Vedessa. Ophelia was told that her grandmother had expired long ago, with severe health ailments. Nonsense. Ophelia didn't believe it one bit.

But she had no interest in finding out, either. Ophelia knew what she was supposed to know, would come to her in its own time. She wasn't one to fret over the secrets and demand the truth. Or spend her time trying to dig it out.

She remembered her younger days clearly. And for all she was worth, Ophelia had loved to spy. Eavesdrop, more precisely. But "spying" sounded much more enigmatic and dangerous, so that was what she went ahead with.

The first time she had been caught, was when she had been nine. Everybody had thought it was the first time and she'd received a good chastising from her mother, for that. But Queen Alexandra hardly knew that Ophelia was sneaky as a rat.

She had been spying since she was five.

The first experiment had been on the gullible Nurses. But soon, that had grown boring. So at seven, she had gone ahead: spied on common Idgardians and learnt what they said.

One thing that had always been allowed for Ophelia, was going out on the streets, roaming around - but, with a few concealed guards and only till the Muriel's Fountain, which was a dazzling, glittering stone fountain a few miles from the Palace. It marked the end of the Palace controlled territory, being the last sight within reach of the barracks. So be it. Ophelia knew how to make the best of everything.

She saw her parents in different lights too. Queen Alexandra was liberal and open-minded. But more-often-than-not, she had her head in the clouds. And Ophelia knew as much - once, somebody could have a dig at her father and get away with it. But at mother...? The Queen would simply rip the person to pieces with her own, sweet comebacks. Queen Alexandra lived in the moment. She praised the smallest of everybody's achievements, had a palpable liveliness and a slight craziness in her. A craziness, that Ophelia feared having inherited.

Queen Alexandra knew how to be herself. She didn't pretend to know a lot about side-stitches and silver embroidery, just to please women. Instead, she told them how important self-defense was and what the precarious, international politics was like. Unsurprisingly, in the end, it was one of her topics that everybody got engrossed in.

The people were right. Ophelia's mother was rather liberal, but she was the best queen in the history of Idgard.

Alexandra.

Ophelia loved that name. A powerful, warrior-like and commanding name. And the way Father pronounced it, with the blended love and respect... Ophelia was pretty sure that that was the correct way of pronouncing "Alexandra".

But there was a worse side of having parents who had been friends before espousing. Ophelia's parents had had a long thirty seven years' of friendship- and still counting. There were countless experiences they had shared, tonnes of stories and inside jokes only they knew of. As far as Ophelia knew, it was downright annoying to watch them exchange looks and shake their heads and laugh about things they claimed it was not possible to be explained. Sometimes, they collectively wondered was a woman named "Sabel" could be doing. And no amount of pleading would get them to recount that tale. The reason Ophelia had left them to their state and stopped caring about all the bygones.

And right now, as Ophelia advanced towards the Polish: a private, duelling chamber of the Palace, she could see her father sword-to-sword in combat with a black haired, young man - Adam Phillicks. He was the exceptionally skilled - and according to Ophelia: dashing - grandson of the retired Idgardian commander. King Liam had asked Ophelia to be in the Polish by eight at night- one of those "Heir things". And so, here she was.

The Polish was one of Ophelia's favourite things. Maybe second only to Adam Phillicks- on whom she had a raging crush. Stopping at the entrance, Ophelia put a hand on the iron railings next to her, deciding not to interrupt the duel. Watching was much, much more preferable. She traced her lips at the pair- each, in their own ways, the most impressive men Ophelia knew of.

For a few minutes, they continued. Adam was exceptional. But there was a thin line separating the exceptional from the extraordinary. And her father, was extraordinarily skilled. Adam pushed on with all his skills, exerting himself to the last drop, while Liam just stood there, light on his feet. Lazily defending and drawing the match on and on for as long as possible. Ophelia was fine with standing and watching: the unconventional moves of her father at once thrilled and fascinated her. She watched his slightly long, dark hair fall into his eyes and nodded to herself, smiling widely. She could almost feel how helpless her mother would have been, in falling for this particular man.

But Lia had her eyes on Adam, too. His black hair was even longer, unruly and rebellious. He was weaving in and out of Liam range, twisting the blade expertly. And he knew he was fighting a lost battle: Adam was using both his hands- fiercely, while his counterpart was not even the least perturbed. Ophelia watched as her father casually flicked the sword from side to side. Was that his idea of a joke? She felt a bit indignant on Adam's part: there was no comparison between the two. Still, she couldn't bring herself to interrupt.

Father was dangerous.

Much more so than Mother.

He was approachable, Ophelia hadn't heard him say an unpleasant word to anybody. And yet, she just knew that the current Idgardian King had his own, very unlikeable and wild dark side.

But she didn't completely revolve around her father. Ophelia got along quite well with her mother, too. And when the Queen had opened up enough, she told Ophelia stories of her youth. They were all brilliant adventures. On a certain range of hills that was full of terrorist encampments. Acting to be a maid of Aunt Olivia. Jumping from Aunt Rose's storeroom window, right into a stinky drainage. Ophelia listened with wonder and dread. She imagined the scenes in her head. A thirty years younger Queen Alexandra... as a spy...

Ophelia was a tad bit jealous. She wished she could have those challenges. Additionally, her arm was still in the cast- even after a month. Nicholas was at Doveland for the next three months- a strictly non-political visit. Ophelia, somewhat liked the Palace without Nick. He was the only blonde in a family of dark-heads. The reason she had let slip the derogatory comment: "you must be picked up from a trash can". And on a very personal level, Ophelia had NEVER regretted that.

A week ago, looking down the terrace of the Palace, into the streets of Idgard, Ophelia had demanded another story of her adventures, from Alexandra. To which, a very slim smile had curled upon the Queen's lips.

'You know, Lia, once I had this duel with Liam...' She had begun, leaving the sentence hanging.

Whatever else she was, Queen Alexandra had always been a prolific storyteller.

'So, who won?' Ophelia had asked, releasing her grip on the railings and crossing her arms.

'Who do you think did?' Mother had asked back, smiling broadly and shaking her head a bit. 'To be honest, I suspect Liam was simply toying with me. But, I'll never ask.' She had added, winking.

'Why not?' Ophelia had demanded, straightening up. 'And how exactly did it happen? And when? And why?!' She had added, cracking up a grin on her last word.

'Somethings,' Queen Alexandra had enlightened, 'are best unsaid. Implicit things connect people. They give depth to a relationship.' She had added. Ophelia knew she was right- but this was something she wouldn't understand. These were the matters of the heart. Mother toyed with them, spoke on them and understood them well. Ophelia, meanwhile, did not. And she didn't bother herself with them much, either. For all she knew, Heart was an organ, not a forest of emotions.

'And the rest of the answers?' She had prompted. Her mother had smirked and bent forwards, resting her chin on her palms.

'Let's see,' she had twinkled. 'It was December. And I... was off to spy on Jessica Quo- alright, Jessica Phillicks. She was then courting William Atkinson and her father had a suspicion that the man- was a cheat. I was reluctant, but I had no choice because it was an order. So well, they were meeting in the Birch Forest... and that was beyond the Military base. Only way to reach... was through the Military Arenas.' And she had stopped there. Turning to look at Ophelia, who had raised her eyebrows and couldn't help grinning.

'Let me guess!' She had interjected. 'You ran into Father.'

'Bulls eye, Lia. And goodness- then, you better not ask me. I didn't even get time to say, "sorry". I thought he'd lost his marbles- one moment we collide- next moment we are duelling. And he has got the annoying habit to provoke. Duelling is one thing- with swords and daggers and spears- but the mental fortitude. I guess that is where Liam surpasses us. And I'll tell you as much- landing in that conclusive, defeated split was much more painful than I let on. And later he says, "I was just testing". I could have killed him that day- if only he wasn't so-'

'Undeniably stunning. I guess I agree.' Ophelia had nodded, grinning ear to ear. She wondered what it would be like to duel Adam... Lia was very sure she would get the better of him. And just then, something else had struck. 'You're telling me, Mother- that this Atkinson cheated Jesse and so she married Phillicks and so Evanna was born?' Ophelia asked, her mouth falling open. She was well-acquainted with Jessica Phillicks, whom she preferred calling Jesse. The lady herself had asked Ophelia to do so.

'Right.' Queen Alexandra had nodded, with a slight frown. Noticing how Ophelia hadn't said "Adam". Lia was avoiding that- she tended to flush with it. And that was too painful- those slight giveaways of girlhood. Her mother, however, was too sharp. Her nod had slowed down and she had smirked. More like how a friend would react to finding out infatuations.

'I smell passion.' Queen Alexandra had sung, mischievously. 'Never mind, Lia. I'll keep it to me. Adam is dashing. In fact, Liam approves of him- if you know what I mean.' She had added. Ophelia had known that she was pulling her leg.

'Mother!' She had groaned, nevertheless. 'He isn't dashing! And I don't know what you mean!' Ophelia had complained. But internally- she rather agreed. He mother was, as always, open-minded. She didn't mind Ophelia being frivolous- when any queen in their right minds, would ground Lia for a month and try to stamp the feelings out of her...

Ophelia shook awake as someone snapped their fingers in between her eyes. It took them sometime to focus on her father's amused face.

'You have got Alexandra's day-dreaminess.' He remarked. Ophelia threw Adam a side glance. He had both his hands pressed upon the hilt of his sword, its tip pinned to the ground. He was watching them with a silent, unreadable expression. An unreadable stare was the perfect thing to get Ophelia interested.

'It's night right now, Father!' She objected- to the daydreaming remark. 'I hope we are not changing the convention?' She added. With passing time, Ophelia had astutely observed her family. One thing she had discovered about her father, was that he liked silly jokes- and the simplest, most trivial of things, were often enough to tickle him to death.

The upside was that he had a mammoth amount of control.

'Our day isn't over yet.' He reminded, nodding, but not laughing. 'Adam,' he then turned to the man.

For a twenty three year old, Adam was rather calm and composed. He pulled the sword up and sheathed it, 'yes, Sir?' He asked, his gray eyes looking stormier than before.

'Are you too weary for another duel? A final one, for today?'

Ophelia noticed her father's tone. A lightly affectionate, a lightly respectful and majorly, a tone of trust. It was something, she noticed, King Liam never used his own sons. She slightly shook her head on the realization. With it, a second realization dawned upon her: Adam's another duel... with her.

Adam tilted his head slightly to the right. 'Weary, no. Still, it depends on the opponent's competency. If it's another go with you...' He stopped for a small shrug, 'I'm better of without it. If it is Princess Ophelia...' and he let the sentence hang. Despite all her attraction to Adam, Ophelia found that nettling. Did he mean that she wasn't competent? Ophelia frowned and put a hand to the hilt of her sword: some things needed to be clearer.

Her father, meanwhile, laughed. 'Of course it will be Ophelia. But the competency... I think you'll find out yourself.'

Adam bit his lips for a second. Eventually, he decided that he was fine with "finding out". He drew his sword out, once again. Ophelia smirked knowingly, she was Liam's daughter. She was going to give Adam a fast defeat.

'So Father, I can get rid of this?' She first asked, brightly pointing to the heavy cast on her left hand.

'Well, no.' He replied. 'I think you don't need it anymore, but the fact that you can't use one hand, gives you a worthy handicap. Adam has been duelling me for the past two hours. It will be fairer if you are - literally speaking - single-handed.' Liam explained.

Ophelia grimaced. If only the explanation hadn't been so logical... but she had to make peace with it, now. She pushed the hair out of her eyes and unsheathed her sword.

'When you're ready, Adam,' she offered.

Ophelia was left-handed. For a long time, the Nurses had tried to hammer her into using the "right" Right hand. Until Alexandra had found out and vetoed the practice. It had been too late: Ophelia had gotten used to the right hand.
When it came to sword fighting, the stronger arm was used. Unfortunately, Lia's strengths were divided: skill in the right, power in the left.

In simpler words, with passing time- and a good amount of practice, Ophelia had become ambidextrous.

'Fine then, no time to waste, Princess.' Adam replied, as King Liam took two steps backwards.

And they launched into duel.

From the corner of her eyes, Ophelia could see her father watching coolly, his hands behind his back. But she was determined to end this fast- show him that she hadn't inherited the looks alone.

By now, it was easy. Ophelia had watched Adam duel for about two minutes before slipping into her thoughts. When it came to combat, even two minutes of experiences was a lot compared to no experience. And Adam didn't know her at all.

Sometimes, her own clear, fluid moves impressed Ophelia. One minute into the duel, Adam had realized she was more than competent. Of course Ophelia was more than competent: she had been doing this since she had been three. Secretly, on dummies and walls. But she had. It was a natural inclination.

And Ophelia was quick to spot mistakes. Her own mistakes, as well as others'. She didn't have much idea how long they had been duelling for, before it happened, but Adam was certainly tired. For the split second that he stopped - just to catch his breath, Ophelia thrust her blade in the gap between Adam and his sword, pushing the weapon out of his grasp.

'Eleven minutes, thirty one seconds.' Her father announced, as soon as the deed was done. Adam looked stupefied. And then he slightly shook his head. Ophelia knew he must be wondering how strange their father-daughter duo was.

'Meani-' she began, not quite understanding what he had timed it for.

'You will have to do better than that.' Her father interrupted, firmly. 'A lot better.'

Ophelia felt all her spirits being watered down, trampled and crushed. So much effort, so much of training. And not even a single word of praise. Heat rose to her cheeks- why did he have to say that in front of Adam? That could have been explained in solitude. With just the two of them.

'You are perfect, Father. But that doesn't mean that the rest of us aren't trying!' Ophelia retorted, bitterly. 'I didn't chose to look like you. And just because I do, I can't be your duplicate. I can't be all gold!'

For a minute, nobody spoke. Ophelia's golden eyes clashed with her father's. She was already regretting the momentary loss of control over her tongue. But she wasn't going to back down, right away. She did feel that a bit. She did sometimes feel that her father had obnoxiously high standards. Standards only he could achieve. 

'I know, I have no right to speak in between,' Adam began, picking up his sword and sheathing it. He turned to look at Ophelia, 'pardon me. But what you said, was downright thoughtless, Princess. And I think... the more one gets, the more they want.' He added. Then he turned to Liam and bowed, 'good day to you, Sir.' walking out of the Polish, with it.

Ophelia knew he had had a dig at her. That he meant that the better father Ophelia had got, the better she wanted him to be. No, she didn't agree.

Or maybe... she did. It had been an instant whim of anger that Ophelia had acted upon- she didn't really mean what she had said. At least he was giving her a chance. He wasn't putting all his hopes on Ronald- the next son-in-line. At least he cared so much as to remember that he had a daughter named Ophelia. At least he didn't have a hundred mistresses or thirty queens. At least he had been such a father before whom Ophelia wasn't scared to speak her mind. 

Still. After all of these hefty praises, still, if that was her immaturity, so be it. Ophelia was convinced she had done no wrong.

But if that made destroyed her impression in Adam's eyes...

Ophelia looked at her father for a second, unsure if she should explain first to him, or to Adam. 'Go on, Ophelia. Save your impression. After all, pride precedes parents.' Liam shrugged. Ophelia narrowed her eyes- was he sarcastic?

Perhaps he was. But she could see that he wasn't altogether very upset. Ophelia could trust her father to not take her unintended rant too seriously.

Adam, she didn't know.

'I'll explain- I know.' Ophelia told him, before rushing out of the Polish herself, to find Adam.

She didn't know that the time to explain- would never come.