Thirteen Years in One Hundred Steps: Theme 69 – Annoyance

She apparently was not much older than Marth; in fact, she appeared to be roughly a year younger than the prince.

That type of information did not become apparent until she finally began speaking about herself. Getting her to do so was what really took massive amounts of time and patience, for she refused to talk for a few weeks after Marth and Jeigan had found her in the rain at the base of the black oak tree.

She had been – Marth had told castle personnel – facedown and unmoving in the wet grass around the massive tree. Her black hair was saturated with rainwater and splayed around her. She had her fists lightly clenched, as if she had been expecting something or someone to attack her before she had fainted. The red silk Oriental dress and black pants she had on for clothing were plastered to her skin.

Marth did not hesitate to roll her over onto her back, levering her up to a sitting position. Along with noticing the cold of her skin, he took the time to study the numerous bruises that decorated her face and arms. And, of course, he was curious. Curious enough to lightly run his fingers over her injuries, almost feeling the hurt she must have gone through.

That is, until Jeigan took the child from Marth’s grasp. After studying her for a moment, he directed his attention back to Marth. “We must make haste to the castle,” was all the Master General stated before hurrying along the way they had come.

Marth, of course, ran alongside Jeigan, keeping to silence before piping up. “Is she okay?”

“Proper treatment should restore her, but we must hurry before it is too late.”

At that moment, Marth had no idea what “too late” could have possibly meant.

~~+++===+++===+++~~

It would be approximately five days before this young girl finally woke up from her death-like coma. So it was five days of time during which young Marth hovered over her, continuously watching and staying next to her. His concern for this new child had kept on escalating each time the nurses came in to check on her.

Intense fevers had incessantly attacked this poor girl, so intense that King Cornelius had decreed the child dead, and had ordered her to be put out of her misery. She was kept alive at Marth’s insistence, though, and that was when he decided to stay at her side until she finally woke up. He patiently sat this girl’s bedside, watching her through her fevers and helping with dressing her various injuries.

His wait paid off when he noticed her stir a little. Immediately jumping from his seat next to her bed, he set his hands on the side, leaning over the slowly stirring child. “Hey,” he whispered, “wake up. You can wake up now. Wake up…!”

Her hand twitched a little in response.

In his childish innocence, Marth took a hold of her hand, giving it a tiny squeeze. “Wake up,” he continued to whisper. “Wake up…!”

Her eyes slowly flickered open, revealing a pair of crimson eyes that fascinated the young prince to no end at all. He had to keep himself from squealing with excitement.

She sat up from her place on the bed, looking curiously and dazedly around her premises. Long moments went by before her clouded eyes settled on the hand that held hers. She seemed to ponder this a moment, then she looked up and ahead to meet Marth’s eye.

The blossoming feeling the young prince had developed upon looking into her crimson eyes quickly died away when she snatched her hand away and gave him a sound slap across the face. Holding a hand to his stinging cheek, he rounded on her once again. “Why’d you do that?!” he spluttered.

“Stop looking at me,” was her simple reply.

“Can’t you have said that?!”

“Stop looking at me.”

A myriad of angry feelings swirled around in young Marth at this. After finding her – by sheer dumb luck – dying in the rain, after urging Cornelius so much to let her live, after staying by her side for five days…The care, effort, and time he had put in to keep her alive had just backfired on him, and Marth was not at all pleased with it. The fact that a girl took this kind of attitude to him irked him to no end.

And perhaps the irritation turned out mutual, for this cheeky young one only continued to glare venomously at Marth with an increasing glow of hatred in her clouded eyes.

Marth tried to contain himself. “Can’t you at least say ‘thanks’?”

“Why should I?”

“Master Jeigan says you were dying. We found you.”

Her clouded eyes settled on Marth once more. Tense moments passed in silence before she leaped out of bed, tackling him to the ground. With the degree of resistance he put up against her, she had to admit that for the sissy pansy he appeared to be, he fought pretty well.

The biting, kicking, punching, hitting, stomping, and scratching the two kids worked up attracted the attention of many of the castle personnel in the vicinity. Jeigan pulled an infuriated Marth away, holding him by the collar while two nurses restrained the red-eyed child from attacking the prince.

“Let go, Master Jeigan!” Marth yelled, struggling against Jeigan’s firm hold. “She hit me!”

“Oh boo-hoo!” the other child snapped back. “You let me live, and you should shut up!”

“You would have died if we didn’t help you!”

“I don’t care! And I hate you! I hate you! Go die! Go die, you annoying brat!”

The elder of the nurses promptly slapped the child she was restraining on her mouth. “You do not say that to the Prince, foolish child!” She turned to the congregating crowd of servants outside the children’s infirmary. “There is nothing to see! Shoo!”

It was amazing to see how quickly the crowd disappeared.

The young attacker seemed to rebel more against the nurses’ holds. “Let go!” she screamed. “I hate you all!” She managed to yank a hand away from the nurses’ grasps, pointing an accusing finger at Marth. Yet she did not utter a word. A livid hatred seemed to burn at every point in her body, concentrating mainly in that accusing finger. Tense moments went by again before she broke away from both nurses’ to pummel Marth one more time, who stood his ground and counterattacked as necessary.

Of course, more kicking, punching, screaming, biting, stomping, and scratching ensued as the nurses stood by in horrific amazement. Jeigan seemed amused.

The nurses doubled on the livid girl again, but only got carelessly slapped aside. “Master General!” the elder nurse screeched while pointing at the unknown child. “Do something about this annoyance!”

“Let the boy have his experience,” Jeigan replied while watching the fight. “He’s never been in hand-to-hand combat like this.”

Horror dominated this elder nurse’s features at that statement. “The prince is being attacked, Master General!”

“And he shall be attacked many times over during his life, Madame Pip. He is, after all, Prince of Altea.”

“That does not mean he should be attacked by a young girl, Master General!”

“No need to shout so loud, Pip. You’ll bring the whole castle to this room again. On a sidenote, at any rate, the clamor between the children has just died away.”

Pip was about to say something more, but upon noticing the two exhausted children on the floor, she lost whatever it was she had been trying to say. Her eye twitched noticeably before she hurried over to Marth, shoving the other young child aside. Quickly noting the numerous scratches, bruises, and floor burns the prince had sustained, Pip immediately went for the infirmary cabinet to grab the treatment applications she needed to tend to Marth’s injuries.

The younger nurse looked to the other child, who had – by this time – gone silent. She did not move at all, save for the occasional deep breath she took. “Pip?” the nurse called. “What do we do with this young one?”

Pip’s eyes burned menace toward the other child. “Throw her out!” she indignantly exclaimed. “The foolish child has no idea who her betters are, and thus showed treason toward the Altean royalty! Throw her out!”

“Well,” the child finally spoke between restrained sniffs, sobs, and halts, “if he hadn’t…been so…annoying…”

“Do not speak!” Pip hollered. “The Master General and the prince tell me they found you dying in the rain!” She got in the child’s face. “I believe they should have left you there. They should have left you to die in the cold, in the rain…”

While Pip continued on as such, Marth could easily tell from the way the other child’s eyes widened in fright that she obviously did not wish to be in the predicament Pip described to her. The cloudiness in her eyes was still there, but it was to a lesser extent, enough to let the deep sadness and lost show through. At least, Marth believed it was sadness and lost. He could not be for sure.

Pip had gone on to explaining very coldly and irrationally to the child about her ingratitude toward Jeigan and Marth, going so far as to say that she was a rotten and dirty child for not showing the slightest gratitude to either of them.

At this, a defiant light flared up in the child’s eyes. “I don’t know them,” was all she simply said.

A silence pervaded throughout the room.

“Throw her out!” Pip screeched yet again. “She is not even an Altean! Throw her out, Agnes!”

Agnes, the younger nurse, had approached the child to carry out the orders, but a frightful light flared again, and the child tore across and out of the room, running and stumbling down the flight of stairs.

Jeigan rounded on Pip. “Why must you jump to such conclusions?” he asked with an irritated tone. “She may have attacked the prince, but to frighten the child into a state of panic?”

Pip stood her ground. “First she shows treason by attacking the prince. Then she says she does not know him. She is not an Altean, Jeigan.”

“How can you be for sure?”

And Pip went silent.

Marth, now at the doorway, decided he could not handle these adult conversations and tore down the stairs after the girl with a protesting pair – comprised of Jeigan and Pip – dashing after him.

~~+++===+++===+++~~

He managed to elude pursuit, but now Marth had no idea where to look for this so-called “annoyance.” He believed Pip was wrong to call her that, and even thought that Pip herself was the true annoyance. Who could say for sure? Accusing a kid younger than him of treason did not make much sense. Besides, he had caused that one girl discomfort. She merely did what she though was necessary to get him to stop.

Marth kept to the drier areas – for the Falls of March were still going – while he skirted the castle courtyards for that girl. A thistle bush that grew alongside the castle wall caught his eye. The hole in the bush was big enough for him to squeeze through. He chanced it now.

Thistles are nice to look at, but absolutely horrid to crawl though. Numerous cuts and scratches from the thistles tore up his clothing, but now was not the time to worry about it. Why this bush caught his attention was beyond Marth, but he nevertheless continued crawling along.

It seemed eons before he caught sight of her red dress in the distance inside the thistle bush. He made haste to her, disregarding the thistles’ ravaging of his clothes.

She was just as ravaged, except the damage was mostly done to her exposed arms. Tears fell from her eyes, but she did not utter a cry.

Upon reaching her, Marth paused for a moment. “…Are you…okay?”

She shook her head in denial.

“Do you need anything?”

Another head shake.

“Do you hate me?”

She looked at him for a moment, but did not say anything else.

“I’m Marth,” he explained. “Remember? Pip said I was the prince of Altea. I hate her sometimes. You must hate her too.”

More tears rolled down the child’s face.

“You don’t have to be so sad. I’ll ask Master Jeigan to let you stay here at the castle.”

She only curled up a little more.

Marth was at a loss. How was he supposed to help her feel better? He racked his mind for anything that would help, finally deciding to follow his mother’s or sister’s example. Pulling the other close, he held her in a child’s hug, letting her soundlessly cry into his shoulder.

Two little annoyances under a thistle bush…