Rank Doesn't Matter

The Throne Room’s decorations had finally been completed. Now, there was more than just the elegant pictures of the mighty founders of AeaTr, which still hung above the throne. There were intricate tapestries draped along the walls. Beautiful stained crystal windows let in the autumn yalalli, creating striking patterns on the newly tiled floor. All of the paneling was done in exquisite deep chestnut. Flags and chandeliers hung from the bottom of the second level and the ceiling over that. The last room in Stronghold had finally been completed, and everyone knew that Queen Estelle was proud of it.
Especially Gerald, being her son.
Gerald was not the first born, but Gloria and her SoulBonded Luthor had died the year before from a mysterious plague. Therefore, Gerald was the heir and the only remaining child. At eighteen, his gifts were fully developed. His Combat-gift was past training in the second level of experience. He could use and control his mind-speaking skills to his or others’ benefit.
Gerald was as ready as he could be to be King. Except he hadn’t found a Queen.
Estelle evidently wasn’t worried. She held receptions for him every second ondai, as much as Gerald hated to go. Every time he would see the same girls drift past him. Every time he would dance with the same girls. Every time nothing had changed. His mother didn’t always make him go, either. That was what confused him.
At the moment, though, he was not in the middle of one of those repetitive dances. He was standing next to his mother, who was still marveling at the Throne Room.
"Wonderful," she sighed contentedly. "Simply gorgeous. It certainly turned out nicely, don’t you think, Gerald?"
"Of course it came out nicely, Mother. You were heading it."
"Don’t flatter someone when you don’t gain anything." She smiled at him though, obviously pleased with the compliment. "I can’t wait until Randal gets home from the Towers of Spring. He will be happily surprised, I am sure."
She turned to a student with a question as Gerald continued to gaze across the room. Soon he would be sitting on the enormous chair behind him, ruling over a realm that had been created from the joining of two. Ruling alone, unless he could find someone to love.
Suddenly he heard a mind-scream, the emotions a whirl of panic and fear. He turned to the Queen and gasped,
"Mother!"
—and projected the sound as strongly as he could toward her, for her mind-speaking skills were not nearly as developed as his own.
She heard it, though, and shouted to the guards at the end of the hall, "Open the doors!"
As soon as they had a tattered, oversized wolf bounded into the great hall. Obviously a member of the Wolfmages, it bounded up to Estelle and pawed at her feet in a frenzy.
It was followed by a girl in beautifully tanned leather, who was being chased by four men. The girl ran into Estelle, who took hold of her shaking arms in an entirely motherly gesture and said calmly, "You’re safe now, by my word." She let go of the black-haired girl and steered her into Gerald’s arms, who held her protectively. The girl still shook and stared out toward the advancing men.
Radiance was drawn in an instant. "What do you have against this girl?" Estelle demanded from the man in front.
"Her family killed our leader."
"Leader of what?"
"A hunting clan."
"Mmhm. And what was your leader’s name?"
The man frowned, obviously becoming suspicious. "Jon Marcom."
Estelle grinned. "Ah, but I’ve heard this one! And I think you’re skipping one important detail. You kidnapped the prince of the Wolfmages. Your leader—Marcom—set the cottage the boy was held in on fire in order to keep the Wolfmages away. He didn’t succeed, and he burned in the fire. Your story was very distorted."
The man’s sword clashed against Radiance. The man was apparently angry enough with the Queen to fight her. But, with Radiance and her Combat-gift, Estelle had the upper hand. The girl untangled herself from Gerald and fell to her wolf, who had dropped on the stairs of the dais. But by doing this she’d left herself wide open, and the man spun around Estelle and brought his sword down toward the girl.
Gerald was quicker, and his sword stopped steel from piercing flesh. And in a quick movement, Radiance’s point was at the back of the man’s neck.
"I think you’d better be going now," Estelle said cheerfully. "I hope you’ve had a nice time here in Stronghold. Please, don’t come again. Guards!"
And they were escorted roughly out of Stronghold’s grounds. Gerald lifted the sobbing girl from the wolf as his mother said, "Get her a room in the Guest Quarters. I’m not letting her go until her family comes to claim her. I’ll find Healers and someone to carry her wolf to the room."
He nodded and took the back doors into the gardens. The girl was trembling against his shoulder, still frightened.
Gerald found an empty room in the Guest Quarters, let himself in and closed the door tightly. He sat down on the bed and set the girl down next to him.
"I’m Gerald," he said kindly, smiling at her. "May I ask your name?"
"P-P-Patricia," she managed, cringing against him. Then she looked up suddenly. "Gerald?" she asked, with wide eyes. "Then you’re—"
"The High Prince, yes. But I don’t want you to think of me like that. Only as a friend. Besides, from what I heard, you’re royalty, too, within your own people."
"Well, yes, but it’s not the same."
"Sure it is," he nodded. "You’re a Wolfmage princess, and I’m an AeaTr prince."
"But—" she faltered, her face showing her disbelief. "You’re more powerful—"
"Not really. Only in politics, and only maybe. You’re the one with the MagicBond."
"It’s not a very strong one," she protested. Then her face spasmed in shock. "Where’s Tano?"
"Your companion? Someone’s bringing him here right now."
"They can’t hurt him—"
"We’ll do nothing to hurt you or Tano," he promised, looking straight into her eyes. "Not only would we have a war on our hands, but we aren’t that kind of people. Anyone you meet in Stronghold is someone you can trust not to hurt you deliberately."
He did his best to sound as sincere as he was, and yet her face still showed skepticism.
Gerald waited with her, anyway, until Tano had been delivered to her.

Patricia Wingsong wondered at the person sitting next to her. He was the High Prince, and yet he was being nice to her, letting her lean on his shoulder. He seemed not to expect anything in return, but she couldn’t guess at his true feelings. She only hoped Tano would arrive and help her sort out her problems.
Tano did arrive, but he was in terrible condition. The men carrying him set him down on a blanket next to the bed. He’d been tended to, as he was bound up in several places. As soon as she saw him, Patricia began to weep again.
"How did all of this happen?" Gerald asked when the men had left.
She sniffed and answered, "That man attacked me, and Tano bit his leg to distract him. I ran, but Tano wasn’t quick enough, and the man—if you can call him that—hit Tano and slashed at him with his knife. All else is fatigue."
Gerald rose from the bed and kneeled at Tano’s side. After a moment Tano looked at him in surprise. Then Gerald reached out his hand and stroked Tano’s head.
No one but Patricia had Tano allowed to do this. She was immediately alarmed, for Tano had to be damaged beyond what she saw.
:No, youngling,: his mind-voice came through clearly. :This one can be trusted, maybe as you can trust no one else.:
Gerald stood and turned to her. "This room is yours for as long as you stay. My services are welcome to you, and the same goes for everyone else in Stronghold." He smiled warmly. "If you need anything, my room is the first on the right on the second floor in the Royal Quarters."
"But—"
"I grant you passage," he interrupted her, guessing at her protest. "I must be going. Let your afternoon be better than your morning."
With that he bowed and left her with her Bonded.
:Tano, I’m confused,: she complained.
:Don’t be, love,: he answered. :Everything will work out in the end. You’ll see.:

Patricia hadn’t come to setting-sun meal, and Gerald was worried. In that condition, she needed the nutrition she’d missed by skipping setting-sun meal. So he decided to check in on her.
She opened the door and was obviously surprised to find him there. But she stepped back to let him enter and closed the door behind them. Then she stood, waiting, in front of him.
"Yes, your Highness?" she asked timidly.
"Please, Patricia, call me Gerald. I really dislike etiquette."
That succeeded in bringing a small smile to her face. "Yes, Gerald?"
"Why didn’t you come to supper?"
Her smile faded and she looked at her feet. "I’m not hungry."
"Patricia," he pleaded, "both you and Tano can’t heal unless you eat. I know Tano’s eating because Mother sends Healers with food in every three sunmarks."
"I’m sorry," Patricia sighed, glancing at the dreaming wolf. "I can’t think of anything but Tano."
"Would you like me to send you something?" he asked kindly.
"No, I’ll eat tomorrow, I promise."
She left him to sit next to Tano. He stepped over to the fireplace in order to light a fire, and felt a wash of anxiety flood over him. She was lovely. Her pitch-black hair did not hang to her waist, as most Wolfmages wore their hair. It only fell to her shoulders, short and thick. Her eyes were stone-gray, but certainly not as cold as rock would be. Instead they were warm, distress filling them. Her clothing wasn’t like the usual Wolfmage clothing. She did wear leather, and it covered her body, but there the similarities ended. No beads, no fur, no feathers. The heavy, laced boots she wore were of the same material as the slippers most Wolfmages wore, but they were hard and sturdy, ready for abuse. Abuse she received as she ran from her enemies.
"Patricia," he said slowly, "why are you so unlike other Wolfmages?"
Tears ran down her face. "I’m a disgrace to the family." The fire blazed, so he left it to sit beside her as she continued. "My family name is Wingsong, but they refuse to call me that because it is more of a Hawkmage name than a Wolfmage name. My parents have been trying to find me a husband since I was five, but no one will have me because of my dislike of Wolfmage life, even if it were to mean that they would be Wolfmage leader. So instead of training me, they’ve been training my little brother for the job, and to their anger, it doesn’t bother me in the least. And this present incident will only make them hate me more."
She let out a sob, and he wrapped his arms around her trembling body in an attempt to show her she was safe. A tingle ran down his spine, and he realized with a start that he was charmed by the girl, the first female he’d ever been attracted to despite three years of balls and dances.
And he knew she felt it, too. Because she glanced up at him, and through the tears Gerald saw the same desire in her eyes that he felt within himself.
He knew he would scare her easily, so very softly he kissed her. She did not resist in the least until he stopped, and then with a gasp she untangled herself and retreated a few feet.
"No, I can’t—I’m not good enough for you—"
"What?" He was shocked at her reaction. "Patricia--"
"No," she shuddered, "I’m nothing—just a Wolfmage, and not even that—I’m not royalty, I’m not even a lady—"
"Patricia, that doesn’t matter, I swear. Mother’s had girls from everywhere at balls held for me. Farmers, herders, fishers, everyone. You’re much more of a lady than they are."
"No, I can’t—"
"Yes, you can."
"The queen, she’ll be angry—"
"Mother won’t be angry, I promise," Gerald said, despairing. He grasped her hand and held it, staring deeply into her eyes. "She’ll be happy."
She broke, as tears of defeat ran down her eyes. "You’re sure?"
"I’m positive."
He drew her to him and held her in his arms. She sobbed against his shoulder and clutched at his tunic, still not quite believing him.
He didn’t move until she was asleep, and only then did he lift her to her bed and tuck her under the covers. As he was leaving, he caught Tano’s sly eye.
:What?: he asked.
:Oh, nothing. Just wanted to thank you. She needs it.:
Gerald smiled. :She deserves it.: And with that he saluted the wolf and left the room, feeling much better than he had for a long time.

After highsun meal Gerald entered his parents’ quarters, looking for his mother. She was reading over a long list on a piece of paper when he found her, and he politely coughed to alert her to his presence.
Estelle turned. "Hello, Gerald," she smiled.
"Pleasant dai to you, Mother," he answered her greeting.
"So," she asked, turning again to set the parchment on the table, "what brings you?"
"I’d like to speak with you about Patricia," he began.
One eyebrow lifted. "Is something wrong?"
"No, no." He took a deep breath and said, "Mother, I’m very attracted to her."
She stared at him. Or, rather, through him. He shifted under her gaze, uncomfortable, but she finally blinked and her eyes refocused.
And there was a small smirk showing at the corners of her mouth. "Does she feel the same way?"
"I—I think so, but she’s distressed because she thinks she has to be higher in society."
"She is high in society."
"That’s what I tried to tell her, but she wouldn’t listen," Gerald sighed. "I think I’ve half convinced her, though."
"I don’t mind." Estelle grinned. "Shouldn’t you be getting ready for the dance tonight?"
Shock. "There’s one tonight?" he gasped, immediately alarmed.
"Of course. Second ondai repose. Have you forgotten?"
"Can Patricia come?"
"Of course, darling," Estelle laughed. "Anyone on Stronghold grounds is allowed to come, you know that."
He started for the door. "I have to go tell her—"
"Gerald, I’ll make sure she gets a formal invitation, by my hand. You had better go get ready. It’s in only three sunmarks, after all. Shoo."
Gerald bowed and darted out of the door. Maybe he’d finally enjoy a ball his mother threw for him.

A figure rushed past Randal on the stairs. He turned to see who it was, and found his son running to his room.
"Gerald!" he called, and the figure turned.
"Welcome home, Father!" he saluted, and disappeared into his room.
Randal chuckled and climbed the stairs to his own room. Estelle was leaning against the table, a large smile sitting on her face. She was staring at Radiance, who hung on the wall. He kissed her temple and asked, "What’s so pleasing?"
Estelle looked at him for a moment, then gave him a long kiss. "What’s so pleasing?" she grinned, returning his embrace. "Gerald’s finally found someone to love. You’ll see her at the ball, tonight." She giggled joyfully, her face brilliant.
"What?"
"Randal, I think we have some new standards to set for the incoming King or Queen."
He gave her an inquiring glance.
"Gerald’s HeartBonded."
Randal stared at her, and with a burst of energy he picked her up and spun her around, laughing with her.

My dearest Patricia,

Tonight there will be a ball in Gerald’s honor. I’m sure you’ve heard of such. Everyone residing in Stronghold is invited, but since you have only been here a day, so I didn’t think you’d know.
My dear, I do know of Gerald’s fascination of you, and be sure that I have no problem with it. That is why I’ve made sure you were personally invited, by my hand, to the ball. I have no wish to insult you or Gerald.
I’ve sent a servant along to help you with attire, assuming you’d like to appear in something different than what you’re wearing at the moment. She will also be glad to find you some clothing for daily wear that you can have for yourself, if you stay and if you don’t stay here at Stronghold.
Please come tonight, Patricia. Both Gerald and I will be very disappointed if you cannot, and Randal would like to meet you, or at least see you. If you have any problems, please stop by and I’ll try to solve them as best I can.
Sincerely, Estelle, High Queen


"Oh, dear me!" Patricia exclaimed, and hurriedly motioned the maid inside. Tano gave a mental laugh.

Gerald stood at the top of the dais, a feigned smile on his lips. Girls were curtsying in front of him as their names were announced. Between their passing he scanned the crowd, looking for Patricia but not knowing exactly what to look for. Undoubtedly she would have changed from her tanned leather to something more elegant.
:She’s here, loveling,: came his mother’s mind-voice. :Stop fretting.:
:Aren’t I allowed to fret?: he replied, his smile fake no longer.
:Well, of course, but it doesn’t do you any good.: She chuckled from behind him.
He glanced at the next girl and froze. She was built differently from other girls, taller with broader shoulders. Her face was square and plain. The name was unfamiliar to him. But the eyes he recognized.
She was no "she." It was the man who’d chased Patricia into Stronghold, dressed up like a woman. Gerald watched "her" go down the steps, and by the time the line of girls had all been introduced, the impostor had made his way through the crowd to the back of the ballroom.
Gerald sat, restless next to his mother, as he saw the man move closer and closer to the other side of the assembly hall, taking the longest yet most inconspicuous way towards—
He saw her now. Patricia was at that other side, watching the dancers, being a wallflower. She wasn’t in her usual leathers, but instead in a simple gray dress lacking petticoats. Despite the beautiful picture she created, Gerald was filled with alarm as the man drew closer.
"Go," Estelle said, and when he rose to bow to her she had a frown on her face and was watching Patricia anxiously.
"Randal," Estelle hissed. "That’s Patricia."
He nodded.
"But do you see that woman in the light blue gown?" she asked. "The one who’s slowly making her way toward Patricia?"
"What about her?"
"That’s no woman. That’s the man who chased Patricia in here. He’s determined to kill her."
Randal looked, and muttered, "Somehow, I’m not surprised. Well, my dear, how would you like to dance?"
"Just what I was thinking." She and Randal stood and made their way to the dance floor.

Patricia sighed, uncomfortable in the unfamiliar clothing, in the unfamiliar room, in the unfamiliar situation. She knew that Gerald had already forgotten about her, what with all of the other beautiful women in the room. She tried to be relieved, but it was impossible. She wished with all of her heart that she would become Gerald’s queen, wished he would love her, as she might love him, even at the moment.
But, that wasn’t an all too uncommon wish for women of all ages.
There was a touch to her elbow, and she turned slowly. Gerald stood there, but he wasn’t looking at her.
"Would you like to dance?" he asked, distress filling his tone.
She frowned, but nodded. He spun her out onto the dance floor for a short dance, saying nothing to her in the meantime, but as soon as they stopped he took her to the side with a tight grip on her hand.
"Patricia," he began, but didn’t finish. Instead he whirled her behind him as the crowd moved away from them quickly, and she saw a woman advancing toward them with a knife in her hands.
A woman?
No woman, but the man who’d attacked her. Gerald was crouched in front of her, defending her. "Don’t come any closer," he snarled angrily.
The man laughed and tore the blond wig off of his head. The crowd gasped in horror as he advanced toward them.
But he stopped when the sound of metal on leather scraped through the air.
"I thought he told you not to come any closer," Estelle growled, as Radiance came to rest at his neck. "You’re disobeying a direct order of the High Prince. You’ve over-exercised your rights. Now you’ll have to be arrested."
Guards came at him from every direction and hauled him away, Radiance was sheathed again, and everything was fine. Except Patricia.
Gerald turned and embraced her, holding her to him tightly. Unheeded tears ran down her face and she shook. "Would you like to leave?" he asked her gently.
She nodded.
Without another word he escorted her out of the ballroom. The crisp autumn air hit her incredibly hard as she gasped, "I don’t want to take you away from the ball—"
"You’re the only reason I came," he interrupted, removing his cloak and putting it around her shoulders. "I have no intrest left in the ball."
He took her to her room and set her down on the bed. In moments he had a fire blazing and had sat down next to her.
"Do you need anything?" he said quietly.
"Just you," she answered, and Gerald remained holding her for the rest of the night.

Gerald whistled joyfully at the birds in the trees, recalling his past. A year ago had been chaos, and now everything was in order. And because of that, he knew Radiance would soon be passed to him.
Because he was absolutely ready to be king. The finishing touches at Stronghold had all been completed, so he didn’t have to worry about that. His gifts were fully developed and he knew how to use them, and how not to use them. His heir training had been completed, and last but not least, he was engaged.
The discovery of the HeartBond with Patricia had knocked her off of her feet, literally, but once she’d gotten over the shock, she’d accepted it quite nicely. Gerald had been able to convince her that rank in this situation didn’t matter, because there were higher forces involved.
That, and when she saw the picture of Evelina, with Myra at her side, hanging to the left of the enormous throne, she’d had natural protests that Evelina had been the heir to Tr, but a great weight had obviously been lifted off of her heart, because Evelina had been AnimalBonded, and with a wolf, nonetheless.
With all running smoothly, Gerald was no longer concerned with ruling. Both he and Patricia had chosen personal guards, and to his greater delight Patricia’s Rosamond had a partner, Leila, and refused to work without her. And so, Patricia had two Queen’s Personal Guards, not just one.
Alvin, the Queen’s Healer, was the same that Estelle had chosen, but since he was much older than Gerald and Patricia, both knew that Patricia would have to recruit a new Healer when the time for his retirement came.
But that was all so far in the future. In a time to worry about when it came. And that was just fine with Gerald, because right now he didn’t have to worry about anything.
And what a wonderful feeling that was!

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