Ordeáne

Chapter 2: Ordeáne

–

A land not too far from the Empire’s reach, was the mountainous and forested kingdom of Ordeáne, separated from the main continent by the Strait of Phidias. The waters there were stormy at worst, and stiller than a cup of water at best. Though in modern day, this was where the worst of the fighting was fought. Currently, the Ordanian Navy had set up a blockade within the median sector of the strait, pushing back the Patríkolophun Galleada, a large host of massive Galleons led by the Imperator’s very own Capitol ship.

The Domini Padre

It was said once, but a few years prior to present day, that the Straight of Phidias ran red, with bodies of both nations washing up on the shores of Southern Ordeáne. Though now the sounds of explosions and the mechanical shrieks of Patríkolophun Porcelanica scared away anyone who wished to look. Beyond the unaffected East, Ordeáne was the final bastion of humanity against the porcelain madness of the Empire. Never was it a choice for outer, countryside elements of the Empire, but rather bodies to commit to the fetish of porcelain fetishes of the rich and powerful. All of whom were flesh, were nothing more than a species to be sectioned and catalogued, before being cut apart and sold. A bleak reality of those that stood against the Empire of Patríkolophus, and one that wasn't always assured, as the Ordanian people proved with tenacity and strategic naval acumen. The capitol, and the many cities of Ordeáne were entirely on the coast, and seaside, allowing for brick layed architecture, with a focus on everything being layered upwards. The Ordeáne Palatina, the royal palace, was carved into the mountainside, with sculptures of the Griffin being their eternal symbol. Whilst the colours, green, yellow and black symbolised their people. The verdant greens of their tenacity, the royal yellow becoming their loyalty to their kings and queens, and black being their willingness to deny tyrants unendingly.

Time, and time again, were these lessons drilled into the girl now curled up in her bed.

a bed much too big for her, and as a result much too lonely. Natasha was a rather petite woman, with incredibly luscious and healthy platinum blonde hair that she usually tucked into braids and a bun. With sharp, deep gray eyes with a soft tint of blue like steel, as well as a blemishless and rather innocent face that usually got her mistaken for a child, when she was very much of age. Her sleeping gown was a long, cotton white loose robe, with ornate threading depicting Kelpies dancing upon a lake in the midst of trees, and she happened to also have little ducks walking in their usual lines down the lakebed. She didn't mind it, and in fact it just meant she had more space to roll around in, and even more space to work, if she desired to take her unfinished paintings to bed with her. The historians, teachers and her father made sure she knew what it meant to be the first and only daughter and child of the Ordanian Royalty. How it was her duty, her responsibility to stand against the Empire, and their inhumanities. She even experienced the evil of their king first hand, but years prior to the war beginning. She could never forget the hunger in his eyes, and the way he held her down. A nightmare she could barely resist putting onto canvas, a fear she mastered through the skill of her heart, and hands. Though, even stranger still was the sudden news of amnesty between Ordeáne and Patríkolophus, with the attached conditions of course.

Natasha knew she had no place to question her father’s decision, but she felt it was much too convenient of a time. It bothered her, and even when she spoke to her mother about it, it was met with the usual: “You are thinking too much, Shasha dear, come, let us go have tea together by the Palatina’s balcony and watch the seabirds.” Or some other form of blissful, ignorant way her mother turned her eyes from bloody conflict and danger. Natasha closed her eyes, and pulled the bed covers over her lips before letting out a deep, and rather lackadaisical sigh. It wasn't that it was all that terrible going out with her mother, it was just so…mundane. It felt so normal, whilst people around her were dying, suffering and doing whatever they could to protect her way of life. Sacrificing everything they had for the sake of her safety against the hands of Gustaph ever coming upon Natasha again.

It was honorable, it was beautiful, and embarrassing. So incredibly embarrassing for the single fact that their Lord Commander, Randall De La Tuttolipha, or “Angelo” as most are wont to call him. As he, happened from circumstances, grew up as Natasha’s childhood friend, during her time growing up in his northern country home. Tuttolipha was a quiet town, a place of long grass, quiet creeks and boughs of willow trees. The scent of the Lipha flower, a white collection of bell-like petals, was wafting through the air. A sweet, yet gentle tickle to the nose, especially during the Sun’s Birth Era of the 1st Turn of the Ordanian Dial. Sunny, blue skies and every animal would come out to greet young Angelo and his charge, Natasha…and then somehow everyone found out about their pet names for each other.

Shamefully.

Unfortunately.

Marionette and Angelo.

Then the rumors of love, spread lovingly by her mother, and then her mother's friends, and then the whole court and every single gossiping old woman on the cobbled streets of Ordeáne. Even worse still, Natasha hadn't seen Randall for some time, as he was fighting the worst of the wars out at sea. Which made the rumors even more difficult to handle, seeing as he happened to be the same man who saved her against the Emperor when he tried to sully her. Not only was his nickname “Angelo” but he happened to be her guardian angel…ugh, she was already curled up and hiding from the red flush painted across her supple cheeks. It also happened to be his homecoming today, and perhaps everyone was much too excited for Natasha, to her great dismay. Mind you, she was over the moon that she would be able to speak to Randall about things again, or just complain to him about how strange her family can be. Though, as a grown woman, she couldn't help but imagine how nice it would be to see him smile at her again. A laugh like a warm blanket wrapped around her person on a cold, Moon Birth Era. Natasha couldn't help but peek out of her blankets, and she pulled a hand out from under them to wordlessly stare at how…small her hand still was.

Would Randall see her as the woman she was, or the little girl that he had to protect?

She didn't want to think about it anymore, and the moment she dropped her hand on the bed with a sigh, a voice would pop right into her ear.

“Ohh, c’est bonbon, Maria-netta! Good morning! Aie…you should have said something if you were awake all this time..” a flash of silver, half-length right above the shoulder, hair waved by and gently brushed against Natasha's cheek, and soon after a pair of loving arms would wrap against her body and yanked her close. A gentle, affectionate, and all consuming squeeze followed right after. She wore a heavy triple layered silk gown, with striking amber eyes with full, and healthy lashes. Her lips were naturally pink and a line of light sunkisses rolled along the hills of her cheeks. A woman, that Natasha thought, was much too affectionate and much too loving for her own good. Though, perhaps deep down Natasha didn't hate it as much as she made it out to be, as it was a perfectly timed response to gently push away at the woman’s face.

“W..wait!..I was not ready for this sooo-aaah!” Natasha whined and then let out a defeated yelp as The Madam Appradiesca De Le Ordeá, or Natasha’s mother, essentially threw herself upon her nay-saying kitten. Affectionately known in the Palatina as Madam Diesca Leone, for her feline eyes, and the elegant grace in which she conducts herself…except for when she was around her one and only child. A more doting mother, there was not, as Madam Diesca Leone never took her time to get away from her queenly duties, just to be where she was happiest.

“My dearest little babie…thinking about your petito Angelo, again, hmmmm? Totally a normal thing for a lady your age…you know~..aie, truly a love never more tout a vous, hm~?”

“Moth-”

“Mama.”

“Hrrmm..!..Mothe-”

“Ma..”

“The-”

“Mama.”

Madam Diesca Leone placed the index finger of her right hand against the tip of Natasha’s nose, and tilted her head ever so slightly to the left, before narrowing her eyes playfully and wore a pout. Natasha, despite glaring at her mother, slowly but surely began to aquisce to her desire. Natasha sighed and lowered her shoulders defeatedly, and then chose to sigh a little louder to make sure her mother knew that she wasn't doing this lightly.

“Haaaaaaauuuugghhhh….fiiiiiine…mama.”

“Mm, mm! Magnifique, look at us, jumping through the hoops of fire…mmm…I have missed you, and it is terrible enough that I have to sleep without you these days…since you have said something to your father about…I do not recall…remind me, Maria-netta?”

The madam sing-songingly wiggled in bed, and on Natasha, as she spoke. The happiness in her mother was never foreign to Natasha, it was just so much to deal with. The petite Maria-netta didn't want to disappoint this one woman, if not anyone else, just due to the amount of love Natasha received for free. Not to mention, who knows that Madam Diesca Leone could do whilst on top of Natasha as it was…bite her nose? Nibble on her ears? Or…the worst thing being the tickle torture. Natasha had no choice, none at all, and it was all just a fixed game from the start.

She threw her head back slightly and shut her eyes tightly before letting out and exasperated:

“...I…told…fath-”

“Papa.”

“...???”

Was this woman serious?

Unfortunately, through those wide expectant fluffy, plushy-soft golden eyes were nothing but.

“...papa.”

“D’accord.”

“I told papa that I was not a child anymore and deserve my own space and privacy?..”

“He cried, you know.”

The Madam Mama pointedly whispered, right in front of Natasha’s face without a sliver of respect for her husband’s privacy, and said it distinctly without a measure of hesitation.

“...No, he did not, he does not…do that. He does not…?...right?”

Natasha stared into her mother’s eyes with so much disbelief that it could become its own fairytale at that rate. Yet, the knowingness in the golden, amber feline eyes of her mama was like looking at a graded history paper, with every answer she missed being front and center, written with the distinct reddish ink of the Dendrobium flower that grew on the southern coasts of Ordeáne. Natasha’s brow furrowed, and she placed both her hands against Madam Diesca Leone’s cheeks and gave them a slight squish.

“Mmm~?”

Natasha whispered, with a tone of worry, and perhaps even an air of great concern. Even the way Natasha smiled was as if she was so worried, that she might have began doubting the veracity and wellness of her mother’s silver haired head.

“Mmm..?...mmm???”

Natasha shook her head, almost sadly, as if the problem at hand was beyond her skill to fix. The only thing the daughter could do for the mother now was let her slip further into the delusion that her father would ever cry over something so small as Natasha wanting her own space. It was improbable that a logical, tactical and mature man like her father would ever have such a childish side to him.

“mot-...ahem…mama”

Madam Diesca Leone had opened her mouth to correct Natasha, but when her beloved daughter had corrected herself, she nodded appreciatively.

“I am sorry to tell you but I think…you might be having too much fun. It is incurable…”

“Gasp!...though, it's truer than daisy’s sprouting in the Sun's Dance Era, Maria-netta..”

The gasp was almost too real, causing Natasha to jump, and then immediately curl up, hiding her face from the embarrassment that came with being so frightful. Though as Natasha turned over and hid her face with the sweetest groans escaping, the mother continued to squeeze Natasha, laying right on her back, hiding her face against the back of Natasha’s head.

“Oooooougghh….Mama..you are heavy…plea-Oough!..”

Madam Diesca Leone, bounced ever so slightly at the word ‘heavy’, not for any particular reason.

None at all.

“Believe me or not~...it is the truth, Maria-netta, petita mine~...I will have to say that we should dress you up! The way our ancestors would when their soldiers came home from wars long past! I even thought this through in advance and pre-made some dresses in advance! Ooo! La aie~! Are you not proud of me? Isn't your mama ama-ma-zing?”

Mm. Yeah, that was much worse and more embarrassing than being frightened, this was a third person sort of embarrassment that felt even heavier. Natasha groaned and kicked her legs, shaking her head ever so slightly as she made her distaste for dressing up and her distaste for Madam Diesca Leone’s wordplay.

“Noooooooooooooo……aiiiiieeeeeghhh….”

The mother and daughter duo continued their back and forth about their husband and father, and the little princess might have even cracked a smile and chuckled in the arms of a mother who adored her. Yet the very thought of dressing up scared her, the vision of the first time she tried such a thing just to be met with a monster with ill intent…nearly made her lose her breath. Each time her arms trembled and her hands shook, a gentle, motherly hand slipped in between her fingers and palms. The sensation was akin to reeds swaying against a moving body. Every step, tentative and purposeful, in the hopes that one of them would stop you, and yet…they make way. The heralding of a sweet wave kissing the sand, it's lover, and how every one of their dances led to affection and warmth that never knew an equal.

Though perhaps even that was different.

Perhaps Natasha still thought of Angelo’s sweet, warm smile on those long gone, peaceful Sun’s Birth days. She thought about that too, when her arms were raised and she stood in her undergarments, with a woo-ing, cheering mother staying not so far or closeby. With the seamstresses and maids smiling at Natasha with a knowing “mothers, right?” Which was enough to get Natasha to chuckle.

Albeit a small one.

Her mother brought out a long, dark green dress, with half-cloth, silken draped sleeves, and a form-fitting skirt that pleated open at the end. The collar was open and allowed a window to the neck and shoulders, with ornate lace designs around the neck, tights and even the gloves. Every pattern was a different Ordeáne flower, and Natasha could only ever name a few, and it was a wonder in its own right. Maybe, just maybe it was moments like this that the navy fought so fiercely. Not only just to protect her every day, but the people they loved, and the people who loved them too. Even if this kingdom, this land was a massive blanket of love that could be overbearing and over-stimulating, it was a home.

A warm, welcoming inviting home that would always be there. Arms thrown open like the gates of the Palatina, to take in all those who seek a warmth that the rest of the world was bereft of.

A single look in the mirror and Natasha couldn't begin to believe who she saw there. That beautiful, elegant, and incredibly princess-like woman was apparently, allegedly herself. She wasn't some petite, easily ignored girl, and it felt strange. It felt so wrong at certain angles, but at the same time she couldn't help but twirl and hear the skirt swish this way and that. The Madam Diesca Leone clasped her hands and seemed so much happier than she might have already been. It had been 7 long years since that incident, and in all that time that had passed, her baby could finally allow herself to wear something like this. She deserved this for herself, and The Madam walked closer and wrapped her arms around the little princess.

“... Natasha De La Ordeá, my beautiful daughter, and incredible in every way…remember this about your mother if nothing else…You don't have to wear things like this to please anyone. Anyone. No man, no woman…only one, and if you feel generous enough…maybe two…but that's besides the point..!”

The madam began to sniffle, to wipe away at her eyes, and Natasha moved a hand upon her mother's, as a show of awkward love.

“...Mama..”

“...This is for you, Natasha. This is always going to be for you…and you look so incredible…I have never been more proud of you, I have never felt so…happy to see you make it this far…thank you, Natasha…from myself and your father both…and green is such a lovely colour on you!”

“Really…?”

“Really!”

“....really?”

“Really!”

The two women leaned into each other and let out the softest of chuckles, holding onto one another so gently. As if this moment was all but a dream, and holding it too tightly would vanish the reality of that caused it to happen. Natasha decided, on her own, that she would wear the dress, for herself, for her mother and even Angelo. She wanted to be brave, but she knew that if she couldn't be, everyone was going to catch and support her. Even if that was the hardest thing in the world to remember during the coldest nights.

Yet, as time is ever the moving thing, so too did this moment walk along with Natasha, as she found herself standing beside her mother in front of the port, with her father, Hamish De La Ordea, not too far away upon a podium overlooking those who had gathered to welcome their heroes. Each person that Natasha saw, their hands were clasped in prayer, with eyes shut that didn’t want to see the empty in front of them. The quiet was palpable, and she didn’t want to break it with as much of a sigh. That same calming arm wrapped around Natasha, which caused her to stand up a little straighter, and to turn her head away with a slight flinch.

Suddenly, like the parting of clouds through thunder, the horns blared to announce the arrival of the men who had left, and now returned. Each man, riding upon a landlocked Griffin, each of whom wore a muzzle to cover their eyes, and those upon their backs being jostled with each heavy, powerful stride. Right there, in front of Natasha’s gaze was the man she had hoped to see, though the most obvious change was immediately obvious. It was enough to make her heart drop, if she hadn’t been taken in by the energy buzzing around from the shouts, cheering and sudden blast of orchestral music.

“White Ivory Towers

Long, clear coasts

Mountains risen beyond

The great blue sea

Upon the sky”

The people sang, hearts aloft, both hands placed in between their chests, a smile upon each face. Though, Natasha was beside herself with worry, all because right there on Angelo’s face where his eye used to be, was an eye patch and a horrible scar. She couldn’t stop staring, she could barely find a breath. Natasha couldn’t find a word, and with her brow furrowed, she wondered.

“Was losing an eye for me what you really wanted, Angelo?”

“Forests as far as the eye

Can see

United we stand, by the Griffin’s

Ever beating Heart

Will we

Never be apart!”

As they rode into the city, the men would alight from their trusty friends and partners, to return to their families who all carried a pure white flower, the Ordanian Rose. Which symbolised eternal return, a promise that the one leaving home would give to their promised lover, or family, and if they return it too would find them again with all the love they missed. Randall grew closer, and Natasha had no idea what she wanted to say, besides the horrible feeling in her chest. The beating thing in her chest, pounding louder than any drum, and any legato from any instrument. The powerful desire to just run away, or to him, she couldn’t tell anymore.

She had no idea what she was expected to do.

“Oh, Grand Ordeane!

Oh, Sweet Ordeane!

By your blessing,

To your bravery

Loyalty!

Brave men,

Women by our hearth

A home forever kept

Enemy one and all

By the sea, may they be

Swept!”

Why weren’t they then? Why did this have to happen to all these people, and why is everyone ignoring the people on their knees, crying their hearts out? Why is everyone so happy right now, and the constant questions blasting into her ears, only grew louder. Her eyes were going everywhere, until of course they fell upon her father, and how he welcomed Angelo back. With two firm hands upon his cheeks, and a slow and gentle squeeze. It all felt so wrong, it felt so wrong, Natasha wanted to just scream. Why was everyone smiling? Why wasn’t anyone at least pretending to be normal?

“Kissed by the Griffin

By all that is right

Let it be washed in

Green, yellow and black

Be aware of our

Attack!

Rise, oh daughters

Raise them higher,

O proud sons!

For the land is our father

The sea, our mother!

Every step, blessed