Chapter One: A Positively Perfect Princess

“Astraea?” A soft voice pokes its way through the haze of sleep. I am vaguely aware of it, but I ignore it with the hopes that it will leave me alone should I not acknowledge its presence. But apparently, my agitator knows of this habit of mine.

“Astraea- get up already!” The voice finally gets fed up with my charade and jerks at my covers forcefully, sending me tumbling out of my warm and comfortable bed. I open my eyes to see...me.

Well, not exactly me persay, but a near exact replica of me. My twin sister, and best friend since childhood, Nymphaea, is glaring down at me huffily. Her silvery blonde hair is already pinned up in a bun, a single braid hanging down the left side of her pale face. Her soft violet eyes speak of annoyance, and yet still retain warm affection.

“You’ll ruin your sleep schedule if you don’t wake up on time. And besides that, it’s so reckless! You don’t want to become a Valorous, do you?” Ah, the Valorous. The natural enemies of my people, the Perspicacious. Whereas the Perspicacious adore all that is rational, explainable, and peaceful, the Valorous are a demonic people that can shift into the forms of wild beasts, and value only blind bravery, honor, and violence. The Valorous have killed many of our people over the years, including Samuel Slade, one of our most legendary scientists.

“Oh hush, It was just five minutes. Not even that big a deal.” I sit up and stretch the stiffness from my muscles.

“It is when father wants to see you first thing, and it is a mere two weeks until your coronation. Honestly, time is important, Astraea!” As I stand I look over at her and tilt my head.

“Is that because you’re worried that once I become queen, I won’t have time for you anymore?” The words seem to shrivel up in the air. These of course, were the words on both of our minds, but more importantly and strongly on Nymphaea’s.

“That isn’t...That isn’t what I was saying-” She tries to shove me towards the wardrobe in an effort to silence me.

“Of course it is. If I were in your shoes, I would be worried about it too. You remember what we used to say when we were little, after mother died?” Nymphaea helps cinch up my corset with gentle but sharp fingers. She pauses for a moment, feeling the simple ring on her finger that holds a diamond shaped like a single angel’s wing, the other, it so happens, is on the identical ring on my right hand.

“You said that we would never be alone again...that I would never have to feel lonely again…” It was painful when mother died, for both me and Nymphaea. Of course daughters will always mourn the loss of their mother, but it was harder for Nymphaea. Much, much harder. You see, I was “technically” older (by an entire six minutes), and was hence going to inherit the throne, so father took interest in me. He cared about what I did and how I acted, not necessarily how I felt, but he still cared to an extent. But for Nymphaea? My sister, whom by chance of fate was born six minutes after I? It could have just as easily been me who was born younger, but because she was not directly going to take the throne, father could have cared less what she did and how she felt. I never really wanted my father’s attention, not the way he gave it, but Nymphaea was never given the choice to have it at all. But our Mother gave her everything our father didn’t. I know she loved us both equally, but she had to be more tender towards Nymphaea because of the harshness of neglect our father always pushed towards her. Mother was kind and protective, whereas father was always so cold and distant. So when she died…it felt like some part of us had broken. Like we would never be able to feel that same love again. Like we would never be happy again. Seeing my sister cry like that...it was horrible. I never wanted to see her cry again, not ever again…

“I said that I would never leave you lonely again...said that I would never let anyone hurt you…” I twist the ring on my own finger slowly, “I swore that we would never have to feel so broken again…”

“ ‘Even if everyone else has left you, I’ll always be here.’ “ Nymphaea quotes with a sniff, brushing my hair back gingerly. “You’re going to make a wonderful queen, Astraea…”

“I can only hope. To be honest… I’m actually….scared.” I confess as I wriggle my way into a pair of white tights and pull on a dress that comes to just above my knees, the practicality of it reflecting the rational side of our people. The skirt is dark blue, short and ruffled, very breathable, and the sleeves branching out from the white bodice are of a dark blue almost latex-like material that is soft and conforms to the skin, resistant to tearing and temperature dependant; it cools in the summer and warms in the winter. My white tights are made of the same sort of fabric, it is called Morphlix. Only one of many of the technological feats of the Perspicacious.

“You shouldn’t be scared- the people love you, I love you.” She smiles, brushing her hand against my face from behind. It would be strange to most people, being touched so casually by someone who looks exactly as they do, but I have never known any other way. Nymphaea is my other half, my best friend and my sister- I could not imagine a life without her.

“And that’s why I’m scared...I couldn’t bear disappointing them...what if they turn against me…? What if I become foolish and the Valorous begin to kill them off…?” My voice shakes slightly, the burden of a crown is a heavy one, one I never truly wanted, but have always known would one day be mine. Now that day is very close- and I am not entirely sure I am ready. Yes, I am a model of all Perspicacious people; intelligent, rational, clean, and to the point- but am I really ready to lead them? Father’s hair is turning grey, it is time for him to pass it along...but I don’t think he sees how hesitant I am to take it.

“You shouldn’t worry so much, Astrid.” Nymphaea sighs as she brushes back my hair with her slender fingers, weaving it into a sweet and girlish braid. These two weeks would be the last time I could wear my hair in such “immature” ways; pony tails, singular loose braids, or just simply let down at all (Not that Perspicacious ever wore their hair down anyway, that was downright unruly and disorderly…). After my coronation, my hair would always be bound up so tightly that a single strand could never fall out of place, making the angles of my face appear sharp and severe- the face of a strict and orderly ruler. The ruler of Bellathus, the land where intellect and reason reign supreme.

“I’m sure I’m not the only one who is worried…” I sigh, biting my lip softly. I should also mention that Nymphaea is the only one allowed to call me “Astrid” instead of Astraea. From anyone else it is seen as an insult in our tightly rule bound community. The only other one to call me Astrid was our mother, but she has been gone for some time now….

“Would you like to go to the Aviary today?” Nymphaea asks, and I perk up. Oh how my sister knows how to push my buttons, including my love of study towards all things feathered and beaked.

“I thought you said father wanted to see me first thing this morning…”

“He can wait. Or do you not want to?”

“Oh hush up, let’s go before Thanos realizes I’m awake and rats us out…” We giggle as though we were little again, slipping out through the balcony and down the twirling staircase so that my personal bodyguard (whom father had assigned to me when I turned ten years old), Thanos, would not see us and drag me to see my father. Every morning he waits outside the door to the room my sister and I share, and sometimes he even wakes me if I sleep in too late.

We constantly look over our shoulders and stifle our breathless giggles as we make our way to the Aviary, scarcely able to look at one another without smiling. After all- it isn’t often that the Princesses of Bellathus break the rules. It gives a sort of rush, to know that you are going against what you were supposed to do- but not caring either way. Oh it was so liberating! And I was so happy Nymphaea was there with me. I was so happy to see her smile…

“Princesses….?” Wilma, one of the maids, looks at us with wide eyes as we push our way through the back servant entrance. We both hold a finger to our lips and make a hushing sound very slowly. It must have looked like she was seeing double.

“Don’t tell Thanos, Wilma, please?” I beg quietly. Luckily nobody else was in the back room, or we would have been ratted out for sure. But Wilma, while excellent in mathematics and chemistry, also had a big heart. I could say with fair confidence that she wouldn’t tell father or Thanos. After all, she has become almost like an aunt to us since mother’s passing. An aunt that has been known on occasion to sneak us sweets and other treats from the kitchens even before supper.

“Please, Auntie Wilma? This is really important…” Nymphaea pleads, her lower lip quivering slightly in a way that could melt even the coldest of hearts- and Wilma completely caves under the pressure.

“Fine….I don’t know exactly what you two are up to...but I never saw you down here.” She turns her back to us.

“Thank you, Aunt Wilma!” We cry in unison, hugging her briefly before we hurry past. She just shakes her head and chuckles. Her soft brown eyes are as warm as ever, and her auburn hair now hinting at grey is tucked up with a series of metal pins and a lacy white bonnet. Her body is slightly on the softer side, perfect for consoling hugs and tickle fights, and her body always smells like clean linens and soap, a smell that is now associated with deep comfort for both Nymphaea and I.

We weave between the many clocks all over the manor (being on time is pretty important for the Perspicacious…) and tiptoe behind bookshelves and antique displays with informational plaques, finally darting across the west hall to reach the glass doors to the Aviary. We look at each other and laugh softly as we each push open a door.

The change is immediate. Like a veil being lifted, or taking a deep breath after being underwater for too long. The air inside of the sanctuary is warm, perhaps a bit on the muggy side but enjoyably so, inside of the palace it is ice cold. Always ice cold. It is believed the cold air stimulates the mind and body, making one less groggy and more alert. All it’s really done is led my sister and I to have a wardrobe with an almost suspicious amount of Morphlix in it. Even though winter snow falls outside, the special glass that constitutes the domed ceiling projects a sunny day and a clear sky. It gives off heat that kisses your skin just like real sunbeams, and looking up at it, you can’t even tell you’re indoors. The clouds drift slowly as if stirred by some odd breeze, and the blue sky is flawless, not a single pixel able to be perceived. And the sound- the sound is glorious, like an awakening. So sharp in contrast from the museum-like stifling silence inside of the palace, the aviary is amassed with chirrups, tweets, and crows. Never silent, not for a single moment here.

Here, in the aviary, I feel safe. I feel at peace, as though all the worries of the world are left behind at those ornate (but soundproof) glass doors. It is warm, it is bright, it is amass with various calls and chirps, it is….alive. It makes me feel alive.

“It’s always so beautiful inside this place…” Nymphaea comments, heading towards a stone bench beneath one of the trees that stretch towards the artificial sun, where she picks up a journal and hands it to me. I sit beside her and flip through it. My journal, full of sketches and facts of these magnificent creatures. On one page, a hawk scooping up a mouse, so detailed you can even see the whisping cloud reflected in its eye. On another, there is an owl, sleeping during the day hours inside of a hollowed out spot in a tree. And yet still on another, there is a blue jay, puffing up it’s chest in preparation to sing a wonderful ballot.

“Yes….always so beautiful….” I say softly, looking up to see a falcon dart overhead, diving into a thicket of branches. Why is it that I feel such a strong attachment to birds? I do not truly know...perhaps because they are free in ways humans will never be….bound neither to the ground or the sky, bound not by reason nor by rules…

“Hey, Astrid?” Nymph chirrups, grabbing my arm suddenly as if she’s just thought of something quite brilliant. “If I were a bird, what sort of bird do you think I would be?” Her eyes, my eyes, are sparkling. She relishes this time alone together, so much so that she is willing to break the rules to have it.

“Hmmmm….” I pick up a small bit of feed from the sack beside the bench and pour it into her hands. “That’s a tricky one….”

“Look! It likes me!” She smiles as a pristine dove attempts to sidle into her hands and peck at the seeds. I laugh and watch as the bird sheers the shells apart with its sharp beak.

“A hummingbird.”

“Hm?”

“You would be a hummingbird. You’re always so full of energy, and you’re so small that people often overlook you, but really- you’re quite an amazing creation.” I smile at her, and she looks at me, her eyes somewhat dazed.

“You really will make a great queen, Astrid…” This moment was so beautiful, so happy, so complete- I wish that I could have locked it up, captured it and lived in it forever. I wish time could have stopped and never started again. I wish that Nymphaea and I could sit there, side by side, perfectly happy and complete, surrounded by warmth and light- forever. But of course….time didn’t stop. And that moment…? It had to end….

“Princess Astraea!!!” A loud voice booms, the dove darts away hastily, frightened by the loud intrusion.

“What on earth do you think you’re doing? Do you know you’re father has been looking for you?!” Thanos demands.

“I’ll see you soon, Nymph.” I smile and place a hand on her shoulder, squeezing softly. But I wouldn’t….I wouldn’t see her again for a long time...and the next time we did meet...we wouldn’t be like this anymore....

“Make haste, Princess. He said it was urgent.” Thanos doesn’t even meet my eyes as he pushes me towards my father’s study. He is only four years older than me, but he has seen many terrible things. There is a scar that runs up the right side of his jaw, ghastly and actually a bit scary. He is the only Perspicacious known to have survived a one on one attack with a Valorous. I also know that, beneath the left sleeve of his long coat, there is a mechanical arm, his real arm was completely torn off in the struggle. The Valorous are such barbarians….

He pushes me inside, and as the doors close I can feel my heart leap with panic. My father is staring right at me with his sharp silver eyes, standing in front of a glowing screen and silently beckoning me closer with his crooked finger. For a while, he doesn’t say anything. I don’t know why I was so wary of my own father...but in time….I would come to know why…

“Come, Astraea. You will be ruler soon, and it is now time for you to learn the truth…”