Interaction 01

The gardens were not the solace they once were when her mother was around to guide her through them. They felt bleak, their comfort drained, the broth of their beauty thin and creamless. It felt to her that the roses laughed at her as she dashed between them, beneath a trellis, and around a corner, clutching her dress so as to keep it from catching on her toeclaws. The pink chiffon between her hands did not comfort her either - it felt like iron manacles, her white lace gloves cuffs. Her breath caught in her chest while her dress caught in the thorns of a rose bush bearing the clenched fists of a hundred pale buds.

"No!" cried the lupine princess, tugging at the lace hem of her gown.

"Your Highness?" came an inquisitive voice. It was that of a handmaiden, a lesser goddess of temperance in the shape of a doe. She approached, her yellow dress unadorned and pleasantly simple, her honey-colored coat as warming as her dewy amethyst eyes. "Oh, you've been caught in a snare... If you struggle, you'll only tear this lovely gown of yours," she said softly, taking gently the thorny bush and the dress and carefully separating the two.

"I don't care," she replied bitterly. "I don't care about it!"

"Princess Aurelia, you should find value in the things afforded you, they--"

"They are not afforded me, they are compelled me," she pouted, collapsing onto the carved marble bench beside the rose bushes, tucked into that corner of the vast complex of gardens, water pools and fountains. Her dress rustled like leaves in the wind as she pulled it up about her legs in case the handmaiden wanted to sit. She did. The doe smiled and leaned into the she-wolf's field of view while admiring her sunset-pink hair adorned with bows and pearls.

"Catch your breath, child. To exert yourself so... whatever for? There is no need to rile your blood, to make it bubble. No, for a princess it is wholly unnecessary."

Aurelia folded her hands in her lap, turning her snout in childish defiance away from the handmaiden.

"Please allow me to guess? Are you hiding from your father again?"

"Lady Temperantia, I do not see the purpose in my lessons. I know everything there is to know about sitting properly, see here my posture, my ankles crossed. I know not to speak when a man is speaking. I know how to appear most suitable and pleasant to those around me, to be seen and not heard, to cast my eyes downward and dance a waltz,"

"Princess--"

"I know how to eat carefully, gingerly, how to sip my tea, how to address everyone I meet with utmost delicacy and respect, and much, much more,"

"That is all very well--"

"But I do not know letters! I do not know science save for what I chance to overhear, I do not know the mysteries of the world, of which there are many more to me than to anyone with more freedom, and why? Why can I not so much as read? Why am I admonished and punished for even holding a book, when they are such dear interest to me...”

As the she-wolf wrestled with her tears, for she was always told by her chambermaids and ladies-in-waiting not to cry, not in front of others and preferably not ever lest she smear her makeup, the doe retrieved a kerchief from her dress and held it out to her. The doe frowned, the corner of her mouth making clear her concern, but her opinion was not one the princess wanted to hear.

"Your Highness, please consider it another way; the time of your coronation draws near, where you shall be enshrined as the divinity you are. At that time will be afforded you the omnipotence and omniscience possessed by the Princess of Creation… This has been promised you again and again. You shall know all you crave to know. But humility and modesty must first be taught you. The traits a girl of your exalted station must possess in the utmost.”

Aurelia looked elsewhere as the Temperantia’s imploring expression bore into her. She looked at a small fountain where, carved into the granite, were scrolling images of the roses and peonies reflecting in the water. The full blossom of some of the roses reminded her of her mother explaining their history; created to reflect the solemn strength of the feminine, the petals unfolded and amiable but the thorns a warning to the indiscretions of the uncouth and their fool’s courage.

“His Imperial Highness loves you, dear Princess,” the doe spoke again, drawing the she-wolf back from her fading memories of love unconditional to speak of love ungiven. “So you must show resilience against these uncomely emotions and endure until your coronation.”

“’Loves me,’” Aurelia repeated emptily, “that is all I hear. My handmaidens, chambermaids and ladies-in-waiting, the visiting dignitaries, the nobles and the gardeners alike, ‘your father loves you,’ they say.”

“As he does, Your Highness,” Temperantia ineffectively assured.

“If it were true, would everyone need to stumble over themselves to remind me of it? And why does he never say it himself? Why have I never heard it? Only ‘try harder, girl,’ or ‘exert yourself for once: hit the note,’ or, ‘cease your weeping, she shall never return.’”

As Aurelia’s candid feelings hung in the air like ash falling after a fire, both predator and prey felt their flight instincts activate with the sound of heavily thumping footsteps. From behind the hedge of roses the towering figure of the Emperor of Creation, the old black wolf in gleaming steel armor embellished with golden flames and wings and the emblem of his snarling species. His eyes, rancor frozen in amber, stared at his daughter, only briefly looking aside to the doe, who bowed so low her forehead touched the floor.

“Shirking your lessons again, so I see,” Aureus Augustus rumbled, his chest and throat thrumming his fathom-deep voice. “You exhaust your tutors, child.” He was a great beast of a man, taller than two and a half meters, the embodiment of joyless austerity and with the soul of a hungrily bellicose, conquering apex predator. The golden laurel crown of victory sat always atop his head, its very presence shaming his daughter’s dainty tiara. “I shall have to dispose of them and locate tutors who understand the significance of discipline – even for a princess.”

As her father spoke, Aurelia cast her eyes downward, staring at the folds of her dress, woven with glittering starstuff from the sparkling rain showers of tiny comets that occurred in the gods’ demense. The strings of pearls and jewels hung around her neck distracted her from the overwhelming pressure that the presence of her father placed upon her narrow shoulders. When she was sure she was about to buckle, Aureus took her by the chin with his large, clawed hand and turned her muzzle up to him.

“Look at me when I speak to you,” he commanded, and she did. “I was told of your voice training, how you refuse to master your vibrato and trills. Your last performance was dreadful, do not let the tears in the eyes of your subjects deceive you. Stupid girl, you bray like an ass."

Silence, the presence of deep emotional pain.

"I vouchsafe you your blessings; perhaps rags would better suit you until you manage to obtain some worth. Your disappointments stack like cordwood. I am perfect and I desire my daughter to be perfect too; thus I shall give you further chances.”

“Yes, father.”

“Your Imperial Highness,” Temperantia chimed, remaining in her deep bow until she saw the wolf gesture for her to rise. “Forgive her, she has yet to master diligence. But,” she stammered, “she can learn with more care applied.”

Aureus released Aurelia’s chin and stood there with his hands clenched at his sides.

“Is this the cause of your flight? To fatuously chatter with this lesser being? Shall I mete out the punishments meant for you upon her instead?”

Aurelia shook her head immediately, protesting, “no, no, I came here to hide, Lady Temperantia was merely,”

“Ah,” the old wolf observed, “Temperance. An important virtue for a female to learn.” Aurelia felt her hackles raise at this, but she kept herself quiet. “Restraint is your sphere. If men were required to show restraint, no one would find their way into battle. And that would be a travesty. The very cosmos would weep at the lack of shed blood, of hunt, of sport. Good, then, spend more time with this one, your handmaiden, listen well to her advice, and do not contradict her.”

“An honor, Your Imperial Highness,” Temperantia said, her voice shaking.

Aureus turned stiffly, his tyrian cloak following after, disappearing as quickly as he came and sparing not a word of farewell for his own blood. For a long time the two who remained stayed deathly silent, breathing only, and the sound of the fountain penetrating the quietude. When it was clear the Emperor had truly left and that he would not return, Aurelia spoke.

“You see? He is a monster. He loves nothing but his wars, his battles, and his blood sport.”

Temperantia took the princess by the hand as she stood and gently pulled on her.

“Come. You shall return to your tutors and sing until the suns fall dark.”