The Ice Prince
Chapter I
The capital city of White Fang was a lively, interesting one. The Peacecraft palace was located there, of course, and the writers, nobles, and other important persons of the day made their home there. Libra Port at the north end of the city on the mouth of the Sea of Taurus was one of the busiest ship ports in the land, and the economy bustled, prodded enthusiastically by the Merchant's Guild. The streets of White Fang weren't paved with gold, though upon occasion, the King had played with the idea, but it was nevertheless known as the City of Dreams. It was divided into the Theater District, the Financial District, and the Residential District, and people traveled from as far away as Brussels and Artemisia to sightsee.
The leader of the Merchant's
Guild, a powerful Guild that controlled most of the flow of goods into and
out of Oz, was a young and idealistic man named Dorlian Maxwell. His whirlwind
romance with the flower of the nobility, Sylvia Noventa, delighted the gossips,
and their marriage was attended by everyone who mattered. The cynics praised
Dorlian Maxwell for his astuteness in pairing up with a noble, since, after
all, business required the right connections, and the romantics sighed over
how romantic it all was. Sylvia was admired for her delicate and ethereal
beauty, with huge ocean-blue eyes and long, shining gold locks. Those who
knew her personally also added praises of her sweet and light-hearted temperament.
A few months after
the wedding, Dorlian allowed it to be known that his wife was with child.
It was a long, hard delivery for the fragile Sylvia, but with the best doctors
Oz could offer at her side, she made it through. The infant was a girl,
and the couple named her Relena, after the original Peacecraft Queen and
champion of pacifism. Relena had dark blue eyes and dirty blonde hair; she
was not an extraordinarily pretty child, but she was intelligent, observant,
and persistent.
When Relena was two,
Sylvia gave birth to another child, Dorlian's first son. She was two days
in labor and there was some fear she might be lost along with her child,
but the baby was born before the exhausted mother reached the critical point.
After Sylvia rested, she and Dorlian decided to name the infant boy Quatre
as a nod to their friend Quatre Winner, the patriarch of the numerous and
wealthy Winner clan. Quatre was a cheerful child with bright blue eyes and
shining gold hair like his mother. He was, unfortunately, often confused
for a girl. He learned to walk and talk early, and his tests as a young child
showed that he possessed the spark of genius.
Out of worry for his
beloved wife's health, Dorlian restrained himself, and Quatre was five before
Dorlian and Sylvia decided to try for one more child. As always, she was
provided with all the luxuries and comforts possible, and her bed was ringed
by hovering doctors constantly. She broke water one cold winter night, and
at once it was clear that she could not live through the childbirth. She
died during the delivery. The doctors worked frantically to save her child
and succeeded, the only thing that softened Dorlian's rage and pain. The
infant was a second son, and a grieving Dorlian named the baby boy Duo, that
his mother's spirit might hover with him always.
Duo was a laughing
child, bright, playful and mischievous. With large violet eyes, chestnut
hair and an impish grin, Duo was easily the loveliest of all three children.
He reminded Dorlian strongly of Sylvia, and the puckish boy was Dorlian's
anchor to the world after the turbulence of Sylvia's death. It took Dorlian
some time to recover, and he never was quite the same, but every time Dorlian
glanced at his second son, he thought of the dearness and joy Sylvia had
left him.
The three Maxwell children,
being the children of a well-known and important man and having talents of
their own, became the talk of the city. Relena grew up to be quite the orator,
with a skill for rhetoric, a compulsive honesty and an earnestness that never
failed to convince. Quatre was sensitive, empathetic, and brilliant, with
a particular leaning towards literature and the fine arts. He played lute,
violin, piano, flute, and gittern, experimented with composition, and studied
everything he could. Duo was rather more active than his siblings and liked
to fence and ride. He was a natural actor and visited the Theater District
often; he also delighted in music. Much to his siblings' dismay, Duo was
a clever trickster. He was also notorious for his obstinacy and had a particular
quirk involving his hair: he refused to cut it. It was usually bound in a
thick, heavy chestnut braid that ended halfway to his knees.
Relena was a bit too
honest upon occasion, and Quatre was always occupied in the study or practice
chamber, so it was Duo, a creature of natural social ability, whom the people
knew best. It so happened that as Duo matured, he grew from an adorable
boy to an exquisite young man. Tales of his loveliness spread through the
city, strongly reminiscent of the acclaim his mother had received for her
pulchritude, until anyone could pick him out at a glance.
At fifteen, Duo usually
enjoyed basking in the attention of others. However, the tales, harmless
intentions notwithstanding, began to encroach upon his personal space and
dignity. His school companions found them hilarious, he found them embarrassing,
he could no longer glance at a mirror without evoking much snickered comment,
and strange girls stared at him in the streets on a regular basis. His only
accomplishment that seemed to matter to the crowd was birth; all his other
achievements were ignored, which got on his nerves because contrary to popular
belief, he did not sit at home and pick out what clothing would go best with
his eyes all day. He sang with real talent, he fenced foil in tournaments
and rode well; he did not stare lovingly into his mirror from dawn to dusk
and brush his hair.
The misconceptions
abounded, helped along by the fabrications of White Fang's prolific poets.
Duo took to hiding in his family's mansion because he could barely walk
a peaceful ten paces down the street without being attacked by bards, artists,
groupies, and wrathful young women who would have been the focus of admiration
had he never been born. Heads turned and people whispered wherever he went.
Being locked up in the house drove him and everyone else who had to listen
to him mad, and finally, Quatre intervened with a few suggestions. Duo settled
on outright, nose-in-the-air snobbery to handle the situation, hoping to
be so unpleasant he would be left in peace.
Try as he might, however,
Duo simply could not deter the poets from what they saw as their God-given
right to floridity. They renamed him -- and of all the possible humiliating
things, they stuck him with 'Beauty.' When Duo first heard that, he had
to be physically restrained from hunting down the ill-starred man, tying
a heavy book of poetry around his neck and kicking him into the River Virgo.
When that option was denied him, he raged creatively for hours, pacing the
entirety of the mansion, giving the excited servants plenty of scandalous
gossip-fodder.
It was Quatre, as always,
who succeeded in calming him. He advised making the foppish courtiers twitch
by dressing like an acolyte of Shinigami. Duo seized fiercely upon the idea,
threatening his tailor with death by pincushion until the harried man fit
him for an entire wardrobe of black. Unfortunately for Duo's touchy pride,
stark black was a color that suited him much better than the Court outfits
he'd previously sported. The whole effect of his sober attire was quite contrary
to the one he had been hoping to achieve. Fevered songs and sonnets waxing
eloquent on Duo's beauty multiplied overnight to the point where all that
kept the beleaguered boy in White Fang was love of his family.
Duo grew desperate
for an excuse to leave the city, and in September of his fifteenth year,
his wish was granted. Dorlian lost the family's wealth and his position as
Head of the Merchant's Guild by indulging in a dubiously legitimate business
transaction. With a brave face, the merchant called his children together
and told them that they would have to leave the glittering Capital for the
only place he had left to his name, a small cottage on the border of Oz and
Koelonye.
"From now on," Dorlian
finished, "we'll have to make a living by farming." His sad gaze rested
on each of his three beloved offspring. There was his favorite child, strong-willed
Duo, looking quite serious now as he leaned back, arms crossed, against
the wall. There was his scholar, Quatre, drumming his fingers absently on
the arm of his chair, clear blue eyes thoughtful. And there was redoubtable
Relena, leaning forward earnestly in her seat. "I'm sorry that I can offer
you nothing better," sighed the merchant. "I know that your mother would
have --"
" -- wanted us to pack
as quickly as possible so that we could get to the cottage in time for harvest,"
Duo interrupted with a quick smile. "Please don't worry, Father. We don't
mind. Truly." Seeing his father hesitate, he added forcefully, " Really
we don't mind. Right?"
His brother and sister
nodded with determination. "We'll make the best of it," Relena declared,
rising imperiously and looking around as though she dared a soul to challenge
her. "I'm not so city-bred that I can't get down on my hands and knees to
grow what I'll be eating!"
"And I'm not so 'brilliant'
that I'll die without the university," Quatre added, not quite managing
to refrain from being sardonic (the bards had gotten to him as well).
"And I'm not so --
so pretty that I'll melt if I touch a grain of dirt!" Duo finished
for them, tone adamant.
Dorlian sighed again.
He would not enter a contest of wills with any of his children because they
were young and hotheaded and would agitate themselves, but still, his children's
talents, wasted...
The poor man put his
head in his hands, so that his children would not see him struggle with
tears for what would be lost. He had been so prosperous, his family so admired...
and now they were to become nothing more than backwoods farmers? Sylvia's
sensitive, gifted, noble children, the legacies she had left him, doomed
to mere proletarianism. It should not be so!
Seeing her father's
distress, Relena's pseudo-stern exterior dissolved and she rushed upon him,
cooing soft comforts and reassurances. Quatre and Duo looked at each other
in a way that spoke volumes, shrugged, and went off to pack -- after all,
Relena could convince the sky to rain monkeys and a politician to be honest,
and if she couldn't persuade their father to see the best of things, no
one could. Up in his room, Duo rejoiced by tearing up the poetry of the
worst of the offenders and belting out the latest awful hits, while Quatre
went calmly about his business with plugs in his ears.