Princess Rahl: The Heir to the Throne, Chapter 16

[hrhrionastar]

Title: Aunt in the Attic (Ch. 16 of The Heir to the Throne)
Pairing: Darken/Kahlan, background Darken/Cara, Richard/Kahlan
Length: 1308
Rating: T
Spoilers: Reckoning, mostly, but eventually there'll be a few references to things we learn later.
Summary: Reckoning AU: what if Darken and Kahlan's baby was a girl?

 

Aunt in the Attic

Nicholas Rahl, scion and heir to the Great House of Rahl and the throne of D’Hara, was bored.

He’d eluded his tutors for several days now, not to mention the guard outside his room, ever since Nila disappeared and Father and Mother went insane looking for her.

Personally, he didn’t see what all the fuss was about.

Nevertheless, his aimless steps took him to his sister’s room after a lonely dinner watched over by no less than three Mord’Sith, curiosity getting the better of him. (Why was everyone suddenly thinking she was the important one?)

Outside his sister’s shut door stood Captain Meiffert, a tall blonde man about Mother’s age with a sternly impassive expression.

Nicholas smiled innocently up at him. “Is Lady Nila there?”

“My orders are that no one is to disturb the princess,” Captain Meiffert said, sparing Nicholas a glance.

Nicholas frowned, remembered he was being watched, and adjusted his expression to an adorable pout. “You have to let me see her,” Nicholas begged. Otherwise I’ll die of boredom—“She’s my sister.” He tucked his gloved hands behind his back, reflecting that at least they protected his skin from the draughty hallways. There was enough stone in the Palace’s construction to make even summers cool here.

“I’m sorry, Lord Nicholas,” Captain Meiffert said kindly, warming up to Nicholas as everyone did. “But I believe she’s sleeping, after all she’s been through—“

Nicholas resisted the urge to cover his ears. He wasn’t sure which horrified him more, that Nila got to have all the adventures or that “all she’s been through” probably involved blood or mud or something else gross and awful, undignified and unsafe.

“Thanks anyway,” he said, and wandered away again. His mother’s rooms were empty—the bed, made and pristine, had a vaguely unoccupied feel to it, as though Mother was rarely here.

Nicholas, feeling restless and depressed, strolled down the hallways—until he came to a staircase he didn’t recognize. Curious, he climbed up in an endless spiral, wondering if this were another way into the attics (there were things he wanted to investigate there)—but no, the staircase climbed precipitately upward, debouching into what was obviously an antechamber. Two guards sat playing dice, a heavy iron key lying carelessly on the table near their hands, and there was a locked door directly across from Nicholas’s arrested eyes.

Carefully, heart beating madly with sick apprehension, not that he would be caught by the guards so much as that he didn’t know what was in that room, and he hated surprises, Nicholas edged inside, swiped the key off the table without a sound—

And opened the door.

Only later did it occur to him to wonder that the guards hadn’t noticed him—but then, Nicholas was so used to getting his own way that their convenient blindness scarcely registered with him.

The room was full of light, pouring in from tall windows. There were several bookshelves, a curtain drawn back partway to show another room with a bed, a sturdy table, covered in parchment—and curled in a window seat, nested comfortably among cushions and looking out at the dizzying view, was a red-haired woman.

She turned at Nicholas’s entrance, and at first he thought he must have disturbed her—but not all the harsh lines of her face could be explained away by his unauthorized appearance. Instantly, he became consciously cute and harmless. He was young enough that it was no effort, really, but at the same time, he was aware that this woman might be dangerous. He’d lived in the Palace all his life, but never come across her before. And why were her rooms guarded? This wasn’t part of the dungeons, after all.

“Who are you?” the woman asked sharply.

“Lord Nicholas Rahl,” Nicholas said proudly. He liked his title. “Who are you?”

The woman blinked. “I suppose…” she said, and then she laughed. “I suppose I’m your mad Aunt Jennsen,” she said, “locked away in the attics…” A sigh escaped her, and she looked out the window again.

Nicholas frowned. “This isn’t the attics,” he stated positively. Although perhaps this woman—Aunt Jennsen?—did have something in common with the contents of the cluttered attics—dangerous, yes, it terrified him, but also interesting—maybe even useful.

Without waiting to be invited, Nicholas sat down at the table and beamed at ‘Aunt Jennsen.’ “What are you doing here?” he asked ingenuously.

If she were one of Father’s enemies, she’d be in the dungeons. Or the crypt. But if she were really his aunt, why didn’t she sit down to dinner with them and gossip with Mother about Palace fashions, or something? This in-between state seemed…strange.

Aunt Jennsen took a deep breath, and turned to stare at Nicholas, drinking him in as intently as he had observed her. Nicholas recognized the expression, and fought to keep his face politely still. She was counting off his features, the same way all Father’s generals did. Father’s jaw, Mother’s eyes (although Father’s eyes were also blue), blond hair he must’ve gotten from some more obscure relative (though not the fiery-headed Aunt Jennsen, clearly)…

“Nicholas,” Aunt Jennsen said warmly. “The Creator has delivered you to me. Let me tell you a story.”

Nicholas leaned forward, to indicate that he was all attention.

“Once upon a time,” smiled Aunt Jennsen bitterly, “there were two brothers.”

Nicholas could not have said he much enjoyed the story that followed—it didn’t take him long to recognize his parents, distorted as they were by Aunt Jennsen’s venomous synopsis. ‘Uncle Richard’ was more worrying. Nicholas completely ignored the extraneous plight of the Midlands, as ‘helpless slaves to a power-hungry tyrant,’ and ‘good-hearted people forced to labor under the yoke of oppression.’ It sounded like the propaganda Father made him read as early political background, and besides, they were only peasants.

Nonetheless, although the idea of Mother as a successful conspirator, plotting against ‘Uncle Richard’ with Father in order to ‘destroy a whole culture,’ was laughable (she was much too compassionate—look how overly and unnecessarily kind she was to Nila), there was something in the story of Mother’s betrayal of this ‘Uncle Richard’ and subsequent marriage to Father that did catch at Nicholas’s attention.

It was the new information that Mother had once been an enemy of the House of Rahl. Meaning—meaning what?

Did it explain the odd tension between Nicholas’s parents? And more importantly, if they were still opposed, which loved Nicholas more? ‘

All in all, Nicholas felt more inclined to ascribe their mutual hostility as being related to himself somehow, even if he couldn’t see how.

“Thank you, Aunt Jennsen,” Nicholas said politely, before he left. “You’ve been very…instructive.”

“I have faith,” Aunt Jennsen said desperately. Her eyes, blue as Nicholas’s own (and the main reason he believed she was his aunt in truth), were shadowed deeply, etched into her face—and locked sincerely on his. “You will be a greater ruler than your father ever was—you will make all the people equal.”

Nicholas nodded. Greater than his father—that was certainly true. He ignored a small quiver of fear, and made his escape.

It was just as easy to sneak out past the guards as it had been to sneak in, but this time Nicholas had much more to think about.

Nila wasn’t the only one who could have adventures. So there. Nicholas stuck his tongue out in the vague direction of Nila’s room, then looked around to make sure she wasn’t behind him.

One thing was for sure—he wasn’t telling her, or anyone, about his crazy aunt in the attic.

(Although Aunt Jennsen’s intensity had disturbed him—it was lucky he’d thought to lock the door behind him. The last thing Nicholas needed was another relative.)

 

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Comments

[dorothydeath.livejournal.com]

Sorry, I'm late!

Aunt in the Attic
Dollhouse? =)))

BTW I'm really glad Darken didn't lock Jennsen somewhere in the dungeons.

His mother’s rooms were empty—the bed, made and pristine, had a vaguely unoccupied feel to it, as though Mother was rarely here.
Oooh, I wanna know more about this!))))

Did it explain the odd tension between Nicholas’s parents? And more importantly, if they were still opposed, which loved Nicholas more?
I love Nicholas's thoughts here! They seem very right and in character to me.

Nicholas stuck his tongue out in the vague direction of Nila’s room
Oh, I love this chapter! I enjoyed it immensely! Thank you!)))

[hrhrionastar.livejournal.com]

Thank you :D

I have seen only the first episode of Dollhouse...but a similarity is conceivable.

BTW I'm really glad Darken didn't lock Jennsen somewhere in the dungeons. Well, she is his sister. Trying to assassinate him or not, rank has its privileges, right?

I love Nicholas's thoughts here! They seem very right and in character to me. I'm so glad, because I definitely get a bit worried about Nicholas - he isn't just the one-dimensional monster Kahlan thinks he is.