ALTHER

Years Ago

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Leave me be!”

It was a response to be expected.

“It is me,” Alther said. “May I come in?”

Alther thought he had given her enough of an opportunity to stew that she may be amenable to some distraction. She did not answer his question, and he waited there some time before he heard the door unlock.

The room always shocked him, looking more as if it belonged to a crazed librarian than a princess. As a boy he had spent little time in his room, certainly not enough to have amassed such a collection of books, placed in seemingly random piles. Perhaps her birth father had been a curator, he had mused to himself. Alther had made a game when she was younger of having her close her eyes while he read the title of one of her books, challenging her to find it within the chaos. She always did, though.

“Thank you,” he said, pulling the chair from her writing desk to sit upon.

How can I even be of any comfort to her? he wondered. Perhaps sitting there was enough. He did not think asking her about Griffin would do any good.

“Why must we stay here?” Ethel asked.

“This is our home.”

“No, it’s not,” she said. “Your home is in Rivervale, and a family goes where the father belongs. That is where we belong.”

“We belong where the king commands us. My father. And I tell you, Rivervale is no better a place than here.”

“You lie.”

He was not offended by her accusation. Had he been in her position he would most likely feel the same, or at the very least wish it to be true—that there was a city to where she could go and be accepted. But if she thought Rivervale was such a place, she was painfully mistaken. If the Adeltian bastard princess was scorned in Adeltia, it would be far worse in Rivervale. Her only chance of peace was to go unrecognized, and that was not a thing he could provide for her.

“I wish I was lying,” he said. “Rivervale is like any other kingdom. That it is a bit poorer than this kingdom does not make it better.”

“I’d rather be poor.”

“I claimed the same when I was a young prince. Do you think I’m lying about that as well? One thing I have come to know with certainty, however, is that any amount you wish to trade places with a common child, that child wishes to trade places with you far worse. And which do you think truly has the right of it?”

He took her sullen silence to indicate her having understood his meaning.

“Why are boys so cruel?” she asked after a silence.

Alther exhaled, giving himself time to think.

“I honestly do not think your brother wishes to aggravate you with the things he says. He merely blurts out what is on his mind. Stephon lacks something when it comes to seeing things from another’s perspective.”

“Not him, Father,” Ethel said meekly. “Griffin.”

“He’s an idiot. What more explanation is necessary?”

“He is not an idiot, though.”

“He is a dullard with no equal, and if he were my own I would see him shamed for such foolishness.”

He could see Ethel was not satisfied with his sentiment.

“Would it make you feel better to know all boys his age make similar mistakes?” Alther asked, not expecting an answer. “I do not think we are born with empathy. We learn it only after we have felt the hurt that we’ve inflicted on another.”

“How is that supposed to make me feel any better?”

Perhaps it shouldn’t, he admitted.

“There was a girl when I was young—back when I lived in Rivervale, mind you, the place of fairytales.” He beamed her a grin, causing Ethel to blush. “She was ridiculed mercilessly, for what reason I cannot even say other than she dressed a bit matronly. She lived with her grandparents, I believe, who must have been somewhat impoverished.” Alther closed his eyes, rubbing his temples to massage the details back to memory. “After a while she disappeared.”

“She disappeared?”

“I don’t mean she really went missing. She was still there, but people had stopped going out of their way to pick on her. Nobody noticed her so much. Oh, her name was Beth—not that that did her any favors either.” Alther took a moment to regret having said that. The name Ethel did not exactly conjure images of youth and grace. “One day she came dressed completely different. Completely. She had on a knee-length dress, her hair was done up in some special way, she looked…” Alther saw the face Ethel was giving him, realizing he’d let the story get away from him. “She looked very pretty. I knew it was her from the start, but my friend, a far more handsome lad than I, was caught unawares by her transformation. He stopped mid-sentence as he spoke to me to gaze at her, and even went so far as to chase her down and touch her arm. He introduced himself in some boneheaded way that made most girls blush, but her…it made her face light up. I do not know how to describe it, but she came alive for the first time when she saw his interest was sincere…”

Why am I telling her this? It was too late; he was beyond committed. There were plenty of witnesses that day, but he had never repeated the story, nor did he want to hear it told aloud in its entirety now that he had reawakened his disgust.

Ethel insisted with a look that he continue.

“And so I laughed like a fool and said, ‘That’s Beth, you idiot.’ Everyone joined me in laughter except the two of them. He was stupefied, but she was crushed. I will never forget her face.”

“Well, what happened?” Ethel prodded.

“I felt horrible.”

“No! What happened to Beth?”

Alther cleared his throat. “She did not return to classes for several days, and when she did, she was her old self again, if not worse. She never made eye contact with anyone, let alone me.”

“Well, where is she now?”

Alther knew where she was, should she still be alive. She was no ugly girl, that much was true. And like many pretty girls unable to attract a husband, she soon took up the trade that paid best. How many revolting men had she had to endure inside her thanks to Alther’s foolish outburst? He had snuffed out not only a light but a life with his laughter, and he would never forgive himself.

“She married an older man and they have some children,” he lied.

“I don’t care for older men,” said Ethel.

“No, you misunderstand. I am not comparing you to her. You are… You are a princess and she was just some poor girl you claimed to want to trade places with. But the point is that all boys make grave errors. Griffin will come to realize that, and if he does not, then I was right that he is an idiot.”

The two sat in silence. The scent of old papers and bindings gave the room a tranquil feel that lent itself to quiet thought.

“What’s Mother’s excuse?”

The question caught Alther off guard.

“Her excuse?”

“Yes. Young boys are cruel because they’re stupid you said. What about her?”

“Your mother is not cruel to you. She merely wants—”

“What’s best for me?” Ethel interrupted with an accusatory tone.

“What she thinks is best would be a better way to put it,” said Alther.

“That’s not even what I was asking though. Why is she so cruel to you?”

Being forced to marry a man has that effect, he thought. But even that did not fully explain it. Alther had numerous noble acquaintances with wives compelled to marry for one reason or another who’d come to love them, or at least respect them enough to be civil. She is cruel because she finds me unworthy and appalling, he admitted to himself, as she always has and always will.

“I have told you before that people are inclined to resent being told what to do,” said Alther. “Your mother is no exception.”

“But you do not tell her to do anything,” objected Ethel. “You let her make every decision.”

It was for the most part true. Alther scanned his mind for instances where he had actually been firm with his wife and found few of any real consequence.

“I did not let her make you get rid of this.” Alther gestured about the room. “This massive collection of yours. I made sure you were allowed to ride the palfrey your grandfather gave you. I made sure you were allowed to wear what you wished. I have had my share of victories.” He delivered the words playfully.

“I’m allowed to wear what I wish only when inside our home,” she corrected, but she had not been immune to his playfulness and cracked a smile of her own. Then she became serious.

“Would you think less of me if I did as Mother suggests? If I dressed like her, sipped tea, and acted…proper?”

Alther gave a chuckling snort. “Your mother is a good woman. I would not recommend you emulate her every mannerism, but I have no doubt you can tell the good from the bad. Do not ever think that you should do opposite of her in order to please me. I love both you and your mother, and that will not change, whether you wear trousers and ride horses, or wear skirts and embroider. You must do whatever it is you desire to do, and never be afraid to change one way or the other.”

Ethel turned away from him. If there was one thing he hated to see, it was his daughter tearful.

“Plus,” he added, “it might be fun to see her face if you came to supper in a dress and sipped your tea like one of her aristocrat friends. She might be so shocked as to demand you go back to your room and change into something less decent.”

Her giggle was the outcome he’d hoped for, and it gave him a pride he seldom achieved. In this foreign land of sweltering heat, hubris, and pretentiousness, Ethel was a lovely oddity. Yet as he looked at his adopted daughter, Alther could not help but wonder: if she had not been born a bastard, if she had not been a pariah among her peers, would she still be the exemplar of innocence? Or would she be the typical Adeltian princess and despise him every bit as much as her mother and the rest?