The air was crisper at this altitude. Bitingly cold, yes, but also cleaner. Free of the pollution and congestion of the industrial heavy world they had just fled. Although the force fields around the viewing balcony helped, Meeka’s hands still held firmly to the railing against the forceful winds, their coats wiping wildly behind them. The airship moved steadily South through the sun-soaked clouds, over the bright blue sea. South towards the freedom that Meeka had longed for all of their lives.
Silently, Meeka thanked the Gods for airship travel. The Four Kingdoms of Rouen had once been isolated to each other by the great seas, creating tension, misunderstanding, and hatred among its peoples. Now, however, the great sky fleet of the Central Isle connected the Kingdoms, promoting trade and cooperation. Even so, tensions could still be very high between the factions, as Meeka was well aware. While they had been very young at the end of the last great conflict, they still remembered it well. There will just be some things we never agree on, they thought. Like the treatment of their citizens.
Before Meeka had left the Western Kingdom to study on the Central Isle, they had only known a certain way of life. What they now understood to be bigotry and hatred had only previously been understood as “The Will of the Gods.” After four years of study, however, a whole new understanding of what life could be had opened itself to them. They felt a new power to go where they wanted, speak how they wanted and, much more importantly, be who they had always known they were.
They sighed, leaning a little more heavily on the railing. Heels may have been a poor choice, they conceded. While they looked amazing with the breeches and corseted vest they had also chosen, the wooden deck of the airship was a bit more unforgiving on the feet than they had originally anticipated. They shifted their weight, trying to ease the sting. It was still worth it, though. Just two years ago, this wardrobe choice would have been an unattainable dream, not to mention forbidden and scorned by their family. Nothing short of traditionally male clothing would ever be accepted if they were to go home. Which is precisely why they weren’t.
Meeka didn’t want to think about the ones they’d left behind, anymore. They had decided that they weren’t their true family, and that they had yet to find who that really was. They took as deep a breath as the corset would allow and tried to release the tension they had been holding onto. No more wasting time on negative thoughts. Maybe a cup of tea would help and they could relieve their feet by sitting for a bit.
They let go of the rail and made a graceful turn on their heel, enjoying the feeling of their shoes more than they could say. They took a step toward the door leading back inside, but at that moment, the ship tilted. Before Meeka could even flap their arms in protest of the unexpected movement, their rear met the slippery deck with a thud. As the pain shot sharply through their backside and up through their spine, a light chuckle was heard above them. “I guess you missed the warning bell, didn’t you?”
They looked up to see a brilliant smile beaming down at them. The smile was connected to an extremely well dressed officer who was extending his hand to help them up. At a loss for words, Meeka took the hand, brushing dust from their aching backside.
The officer, still clearly bemused, took a low bow, almost as if he knew he was addressing royalty. “I would greet you, my dear, but I’m afraid that I’m at a loss for knowing your preferred nom de guerre.”
As the officer stood looking expectantly at them, it took Meeka a second to realize that he was waiting for them to speak. It was another few seconds before their lips began to work correctly. “Err.. I… I’m Meeka,” they spluttered. The way the officer’s lips curved in a half smile was distracting. They realized they were still absentmindedly rubbing at their sore spots. Heat, which had already spread across their face, burned hotter at this thought.
“What a perfect moniker for such a fair individual,” he asserted in a jovial way. “Are you injured?”
Meeka had almost smiled back at him, but the turn of their lips dropped almost as soon as it started. He’s mocking me! He has to be mocking me, raced through their mind. Of course he is! You just fell on your backside! Blasted heels! They dashed passed him to the door, barely comprehending the words of apology from the young officer’s mouth. I’m not going to be the butt of anyone’s jokes, anymore, they groaned internally.
They didn’t stop until they had passed the door, gone down the hall, and reached their room on the deck below. Breathing hard, they did their best to still their heart. Only an hour into their freedom and they still felt isolated. Breathe, Meeka. Just breathe. You are still a noble, no matter what your family says. It’s time to act like it.
A few more deep breaths, and they began to calm. With a sigh, they straighten their vest, adjusted their cravat, and held their head high. Why should an officer of (more than likely) inferior birth affect them so? Even if he was incredibly attractive. And fairly polite. No, they reminded themself, he mocked me after I fell. Didn’t he? Or… did he?
Meeka made a guttural noise of protest, head falling against the wall as they slid down it. Finally becoming themself was proving more emotionally trying than they had originally foreseen. Making the decision to leave the throne and their family they knew would be difficult. Requesting their maid to purchase a certain type of clothing for them to try on, equally so. But when they had first introduced themself as Meeka, rather than their given name, or asked the maid to address them differently, it had been a feeling of relief, not of angst. So, they naturally assumed that all interactions with others would be just as freeing. Being flustered by a cute boy, however, that was certainly new territory, indeed. They carded a hand through their hair, attempting to think. I can’t keep running, they thought. I’m already running from my title, I can’t run from the new, also.
With a deep sigh, they stood, walking further into the suite. It was a spacious and well decorated accommodation, especially for an Airship. Luxury vessels were known for their superior rooms, but Meeka was still baffled by the size. Along with a generously sized parlor, there was a private washroom, large wardrobe, and a maid’s bedroom, just off the main bed chamber. They had never seen anything like it on the military vessels they were used to.
As they entered the sleeping quarters, the maid stood from her task of unpacking the clothes. “Your Highness,” said the older woman. She curtsied low in greeting as they nodded back in acknowledgment. “I was not expecting you quite so soon. Would you like to dress for dinner, now?”
They had originally planned to spend as much time as possible soaking up the views of the observation deck. After the fall, however, they decided that some peace and quiet in their room before dinner was probably for the best. Besides, they had not yet decided which of their new fashions they would wear this evening. After a few words with the maid, tea was summoned while they waited for their fashion options to be presented. They spent some time staring out the large glass window overlooking the ocean gliding past underneath them, wishing they had the courage to see it from the deck.
The tea refreshed them, however, as did the view, which helped to carry them farther away from the unpleasantness of the previous days. The handsome sailor was nothing compared to the events leading to their departure. A few moments flashed through their mind. Their mother cursing the fact they were born, and yelling that they were no child of hers. Their father slapping them and telling them to act like a man. Sneers from the staff as their requests were ignored. They wished that the ocean below could wash those memories away forever and let them drift out on the current so they would never have to think about them again.
Meeka’s education on the Central Isle had finally given them the courage to assert their true wishes to their parents. However, nothing could have prepared them for the decision their father had made upon hearing the news. They had been sent back to the Central Isle to ‘pick out an appropriate wardrobe for their future.’ And Meeka had complied to the letter, picking out a wardrobe that would best reflect who they wanted to be in the future. When their shopping had been concluded, they had boarded this ship, bound for a new life in the South instead of their old one to the West. Now, those same clothes were being prepared in the other room by a maid who had addressed them correctly the first time, had done so with a smile, and who had never once treated them like there was something off about them. It was worth it just for that.
As the hour drew closer to dinner, they opened the doors to the suite’s bedroom which had temporarily converted into a dressing room by the maid. The thrilling feeling of being surrounded by the racks of clothing they had just purchased made them want to twirl around with joy. But the maid was still here, and years of training in decorum repressed the urge. The realization that there was still so much of themselves that they couldn’t let out made their shoulders slump. They would have to work on throwing off those years of conforming to oppression, but for now, they were surrounded by beautiful clothing.
With a deep breath, they summoned all of their courage for the next words that would leave their mouth. “Ms. Smithe,” they addressed the maid, “would you be so kind as to assist me with my… corset?”
They braced themself for the reaction that they had become accustomed to: sneering, scoffing, dismissal, shock… or some combination therein. Instead, the maid simply bowed her head in understanding. “Of course, Master. How will you be dressing for dinner?”
Meeka exhaled, surprise clouding their mind. They turned back to the rack of clothes that brought them so much joy. So many options. So many luscious, beautiful, and non conforming options! Money really is good for something. Of all the wonderful items, however, one skirt stood out in particular.
It was only after they had donned the yards of voluptuous fabric that they realized there was no corset to accompany it. They grabbed several corsets, bringing each one up to see how it worked in the mirror. I never was good with this part, they conceded.
As they continued to struggle, there was a soft knock at the door that the maid answered. It was a few moments before they realized that the conversation at the door had become an arguement, which left the maid flustered and headed toward them at some pace. “Master,” she whispered. “The gentleman at the door has a note for you, but refuses to give it to me! He claims that his Master insisted—“
“It’s quite alright, Ms. Smithe,” they reassured her. “I will see the gentleman.” They set the corsets down on the sofa, tightening their robe as they went. “Sir, who are you that insists on speaking to me, directly?”
The man attempted to suppress a small grin, which almost angered Meeka more, every Royal instinct within them rejecting the familiarity it suggested. “The Captain’s Valet, Sir, with an invitation to his table for dinner.”
The title only unnerved Meeka more, bringing an edge to their voice. “You may address me as ‘Your Royal Highness’, ‘Your Grace’, or ‘My Liege’, but I will not tolerate being addressed as ‘Sir.’”
The Valet did little to hide yet another grin. “My apologies, Your Royal Highness. It won’t happen again.”
What an impertinent man, they thought. Clearing their throat, they took the letter and opened it with practiced speed and grace. As they read the invitation, a small pang of fear filled them. Officers often attended such dinners. What were the odds of the sailor from the deck being among them? No, surely not. The man they had met on the deck was far too young to be of any importance to the crew. I’m safe, they thought, besides, a lovely meal would do me some good.
“Is… something the matter, your Grace? Only, you’ve gone a bit pale.”
Meeka suddenly looked up, feeling as shocked by the comment as the maid behind them suddenly sounded. “How dare you speak that way to Their Royal Highness! I shall report you to—“
But Meeka held up a hand, silencing her. After a moment, they spoke softly. “Captain's Valet or no, you’ve no place to ask such a thing of me. I am perfectly well. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must choose an outfit for this evening.”
They crossed the room to the corsets they had laid down, but before the maid could close the door, the Valet spoke once more. “The red one with that skirt, I should think.”
Meeka whipped around so quickly that they felt the speed in their neck. “I beg your pardon?”
“The red corset. Goes better with the skirt. Do you see the deep purple fibers in the weft of the skirt’s fabric? They carry more red pigment than blue, meaning that they compliment better with red. The bright green would clash horribly. Too much yellow, you see.”
Meeka considered the man for a long moment before replying. “Help the Captain with a lot of fashion advice, do you?”
The Valet grinned a final time, making no pains to hide it. “No, My Liege, but I do have three older sisters.” Without further explanation, he bowed deeply, and left the hall.
“Well,” the maid said, shutting the door gently. “That was quite the performance, now wasn’t it?”
Meeka nodded, looking back at the corsets with the skirt. “Entertaining as he was, the crazy bastard may be right.” With a small look of bemusement, they handed the red corset to the maid.
(Chapter 1 To Be Continued...)
