Devon looked at Blue for a moment, trying to think of what to say. Since he met her, she questioned everything (which he thought wise given her situation), but the more time he spent with her, the more he believed she was genuinely curious... which left him at a loss.
"What do you know of your childhood?" he asked then. "Your family?"
Blue was surprised by his questions - especially since they didn't answer her own. "Why is that-?"
Before she could say "important", he asked again. "I promise," he said, "you will have your answers. Please. Indulge me." As irritated as she was, she felt he was sincere. She also thought it not wise to anger or upset the man that could make the doorway reappear.
"Fine," she replied. She leaned back in her chair and started fidgeting with her hands. "My childhood?" He nodded. "I am an only child, daughter to King Beryl."
"What of the Queen?"
Blue's face became sullen at the question of her mother. "I never knew her," she said in a low voice. Her gaze travelled out at the view when she said, "I'm told she died giving birth to me."
"Who told you that?"
"Many people. My nannies and tutors... various people at court..."
"Do you believe these people?"
Blue's head sharply turned to Devon, heat in her eyes. "Why would I have any reason to doubt them?"
"I don't know," came Devon's reply, a little quiet himself. The heat slowly seeped from her gaze, and he then asked, "What about your father?"
"What about him?"
"What does he say of your mother?"
"He-," she started to say, and then stopped short. "He," she said again, thinking back to her younger years, and then finally said, "doesn't."
"What do you mean?" asked Devon. "Does he ever speak of her?" She opened her mouth to speak and again was confused by what she was going to say.
"No," she replied. "He does not speak of her."
"I find that strange that the King himself does not talk of his Queen... ever." He saw that Blue had a look on her face that he could only describe as part sadness and worry. "Well, what about these other people you mentioned before - the nannies and so forth. Do they speak of the Queen?"
"They used to," Blue recalled. "I remember walking into a room for a lesson or dinner or something, and I would hear talk... her name perhaps... but then I was there, and then there'd be silence." She looked down at her lap again, fiddling with her hands, took a deep breath and looked back at Devon when she said, "I just assumed they didn't want to upset me."
He stared at her from across the table, her eyes giving away her true feelings. "I can see how successful they were in that." As hard as she tried, she couldn't look at him anymore. She rose from her chair and turned toward the edge of the balcony, staring out at nothing... just turning away to hide the tears she was afraid were about to fall from her eyes. "What do you know of her? Your mother?"
With a deep breath in, she slowly let it out. It took her a few minutes before she was sure she could speak without her voice shaking. "Not much," she answered. "Like I said, I never knew her."
Devon rose from his own seat and walked over to Blue. She paid no attention to him, lost in her sullen mood. "But surely," he said, "someone must have told you something. Commented on how you have her eyes? Her smile? Do you have any idea what she even looks like?" Upon reflex, she wanted to say "no", but she thought about it for a moment. Her mother. The woman that bore her. Nothing. Her mind was blank. "No one talks of her - not even your father. There are none of her belongings around to pass down to her daughter. I doubt there is even a portrait of her anywhere in the castle." There were none that the Princess could recall. "Blue... do you even know her name?"
A tear fell down her cheek, cold against the heat of her skin. She turned then, a slight growl in her voice, as she said, "Why?! Why are you doing this?" With her next breath in, there was a sniffle as she fought back more tears. "You said you would answer my questions, but instead you proceed to hurt me. Why?"
"I do not mean to hurt you," he said, reaching toward to embrace her, to comfort her. She stepped away from his advance.
"Why is my dead mother so important to you?" she cried.
"Because," he said, his arms falling to his sides as he looked at her, "she's the answer to all of this." He stepped toward her then and stood inches before her, looking down into her face, when he said, "And she isn't dead."
The tears fells, and her body went limp.
"What do you know of your childhood?" he asked then. "Your family?"
Blue was surprised by his questions - especially since they didn't answer her own. "Why is that-?"
Before she could say "important", he asked again. "I promise," he said, "you will have your answers. Please. Indulge me." As irritated as she was, she felt he was sincere. She also thought it not wise to anger or upset the man that could make the doorway reappear.
"Fine," she replied. She leaned back in her chair and started fidgeting with her hands. "My childhood?" He nodded. "I am an only child, daughter to King Beryl."
"What of the Queen?"
Blue's face became sullen at the question of her mother. "I never knew her," she said in a low voice. Her gaze travelled out at the view when she said, "I'm told she died giving birth to me."
"Who told you that?"
"Many people. My nannies and tutors... various people at court..."
"Do you believe these people?"
Blue's head sharply turned to Devon, heat in her eyes. "Why would I have any reason to doubt them?"
"I don't know," came Devon's reply, a little quiet himself. The heat slowly seeped from her gaze, and he then asked, "What about your father?"
"What about him?"
"What does he say of your mother?"
"He-," she started to say, and then stopped short. "He," she said again, thinking back to her younger years, and then finally said, "doesn't."
"What do you mean?" asked Devon. "Does he ever speak of her?" She opened her mouth to speak and again was confused by what she was going to say.
"No," she replied. "He does not speak of her."
"I find that strange that the King himself does not talk of his Queen... ever." He saw that Blue had a look on her face that he could only describe as part sadness and worry. "Well, what about these other people you mentioned before - the nannies and so forth. Do they speak of the Queen?"
"They used to," Blue recalled. "I remember walking into a room for a lesson or dinner or something, and I would hear talk... her name perhaps... but then I was there, and then there'd be silence." She looked down at her lap again, fiddling with her hands, took a deep breath and looked back at Devon when she said, "I just assumed they didn't want to upset me."
He stared at her from across the table, her eyes giving away her true feelings. "I can see how successful they were in that." As hard as she tried, she couldn't look at him anymore. She rose from her chair and turned toward the edge of the balcony, staring out at nothing... just turning away to hide the tears she was afraid were about to fall from her eyes. "What do you know of her? Your mother?"
With a deep breath in, she slowly let it out. It took her a few minutes before she was sure she could speak without her voice shaking. "Not much," she answered. "Like I said, I never knew her."
Devon rose from his own seat and walked over to Blue. She paid no attention to him, lost in her sullen mood. "But surely," he said, "someone must have told you something. Commented on how you have her eyes? Her smile? Do you have any idea what she even looks like?" Upon reflex, she wanted to say "no", but she thought about it for a moment. Her mother. The woman that bore her. Nothing. Her mind was blank. "No one talks of her - not even your father. There are none of her belongings around to pass down to her daughter. I doubt there is even a portrait of her anywhere in the castle." There were none that the Princess could recall. "Blue... do you even know her name?"
A tear fell down her cheek, cold against the heat of her skin. She turned then, a slight growl in her voice, as she said, "Why?! Why are you doing this?" With her next breath in, there was a sniffle as she fought back more tears. "You said you would answer my questions, but instead you proceed to hurt me. Why?"
"I do not mean to hurt you," he said, reaching toward to embrace her, to comfort her. She stepped away from his advance.
"Why is my dead mother so important to you?" she cried.
"Because," he said, his arms falling to his sides as he looked at her, "she's the answer to all of this." He stepped toward her then and stood inches before her, looking down into her face, when he said, "And she isn't dead."
The tears fells, and her body went limp.
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