Composing herself after a long screaming session into her pillow – she had asked Marcella to fetch her some tea for the screaming left her throat in such a state – she freshened up and let her ladies dress her. Her gown was a lovely shade of pale violet, her hair pulled back with silver hair combs and left to cascade down her neck and back. After she was situated, her ladies left her alone again - per her wishes - and with the door closed, she paced her room frantically trying to figure things out.
Was it a dream? It certainly didn’t feel like one. How could so much happen in just an hour? It was impossible.
From the corner of her room in a tall lengthy case she picked up one of her many fencing foils and swung it through the air, the thin rod of solid metal making whooshing noises with each stroke. As she paced, she fenced with an imaginary foe as she tried to reason through the insanity. Running her foe through the heart, Marcella knocked on the door. Blue continued to pary and thrust while acknowledging the knock and admitting entry. The nanny walked in to announce her half-sister and fellow princess Georgeanne de Burgundy. Blue simply nodded and in walked her sister dressed in a deep burgundy-colored gown. Her hair was pulled back partially with an ornate black comb, letting her dark auburn curls swirl down her back and away from her face. Marcella left the room to fetch food and refreshments. When alone the girls spoke frankly.
“Ah,” said Georgeanne, “thinking, I see.” Standing near the bed, she picked up one of her sister’s many stuffed animals, most of them frogs of some sort or another. The one she picked up was bright green and sat politely on its rear while beaming a rather devious smile at her. “And what is it this time that you’re trying to figure out?”
“To talk is to fence,” said Blue, whipping her foil about.
“Must I?” said Georgeanne. “Marcella should be back any minute with snacks, and I’m feeling a little peckish.” Blue swung her foil as if she were taking someone’s head off but said nothing. “Dammit, B!” Dropping the frog back on the bed, she went to the corner, retrieved a foil of her own, and held it handle to tip, bending the metal slightly. She whipped it around a bit and then stood opposite her sister. They brought their foils to their faces and proceeded to en garde. “It’s too early to fence,” said Georgeanne, disinterest in her voice.
“It’s never too early to fence,” replied Blue.
“I prefer to at least have some breakfast in me first,” she said as their foils collided with one another’s.
“It’s not my fault you haven’t eaten,” said Blue.
“I wasn’t hungry earlier,” Georgeanne answered.
“And what are you griping about anyway,” said Blue. “You prefer a ripe ol’ round of fisticuffs.”
The princess grinned. “Ah yes,” she said. “Now that’s a sport.”
“Fencing’s a sport,” Blue retorted.
“Yes,” said Georgeanne, “but why run someone through with a sword when you can beat them to a bloody pulp with your bare hands?”
“I see your point,” conceded Blue. “I do enjoy a good jib-jab every now and then, but still - fencing always helps me think.”
“And today’s thoughts are of…?” asked Georgeanne.
Marcella knocked and then rolled in a tray of food for both the ladies. They took their meal out onto the balcony. After everything was set up, Marcella curtsied and left the room, and the girls continued their chat.
“It seems that I had the most interesting dream moments ago,” said Blue.
“A dream,” said her sister. “I don’t see the problem.”
Georgeanne had placed a piece of cheese on a sliced bit of apple and taken a bite when her sister said, “The problem is I’m not sure it was actually a dream.”
She chewed slowly taking in the words, trying to process their meaning. Finally, swallowing the well masticated food, she said, knowing what the answer to her question would be, “If not a dream, then what?”
“That’s just it,” Blue replied. “I don’t know.”
“Well,” said Georgeanne chomping more cheese and apple, “tell me of this dream, and we shall make sense of it together.” If there was anyone that Blue could share her craziness with, it was Georgeanne. They both shared a life of rebellion, of doing things princesses - by society standards - should not do. They fenced, sparred, refused to ride side-saddle and various other things that drove their elders completely nuts. They joked that the girliest thing they did was have tea and wear dresses (though with some of the elaborate fare they had to wear, they often daydreamed of wearing more comfortable clothes). After Georgeanne was caught up, she munched on some grapes and leaned back in her chair. “Goodness me,” she said smiling, “you had a busy nap.”
“How could I live so much in so little a time? And in a dream?”
“Sounds to me that we need to do some investigating,” said her sister.
“How do you mean?”
“We shall retrace your steps,” declared Georgeanne. “We will see if it was actually a dream or not.”
Blue smacked her hand on the table in a triumphant fashion. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Doesn’t matter,” her sister answered. “That’s why you have me. I remember the things you’ forget.” Finding comfort in the truth of her words, they left Blue’s quarters and found themselves walking the halls in search of any sign that the dream was real. Blue had blindly darted down hallways and stairs trying to hide from her elders so it was difficult to retrace any of the steps she had taken due to the randomness of her journey.
Lost in idle chit chat, Georgeanne tried to help Blue remember as well as soothe her upset feelings at not being able to. She told her sister that she was trying too hard, that she had to relax and perhaps everything would come back to her then. As they talked, they stopped paying attention to where they were going and found themselves along a corridor that neither of them saw as familiar. Random images of her “dream” came back to her, and she approached a door cautiously. She turned the knob and opened it, half expecting the old woman’s lab, but instead found a forgotten room filled with cobwebs, dust, and empty shelves.
“It was here,” Blue muttered to herself. “I’m almost sure it was here.”
“What’s this?” said Georgeanne, and Blue heard her flipping through pages. Standing behind her, she spied odd handwriting on the pages of an old leather journal that her sister had found resting on a table near a window. The edges of the pages were tattered and a little worn. The penmanship was obviously feminine, but no one’s the girl’s could recognize. Within the journal were pages of notes and sketches of things that at first glance the girls had no idea what they were. Some of the pages were torn – others completely ripped out. Then the Princess de Burgundy sucked in a sudden breath of surprise.
“What?” asked Blue. “What’s wrong? What did you find?”
The open page showed script that was different than what the ladies had seen before. Staring at it like she had seen a ghost, Georgeanne read over the words, but they didn’t make sense. “I don’t understand,” she said running her fingers over the long ago dried ink.
“What is it? What don’t you understand?” But inspecting the writing more closely, Blue didn’t have to wait for an answer. She could already tell.
The handwriting was her sister’s.
