#aloysius ardenne

[tfwhelen]

feast of noros

excerpt from Helen River’s diary (12 years ago)

This diary has always been a place where I might be completely honest with all of my thoughts, desires, and darkest secrets, so it is why I shall confess here, without shame, that I do have a favorite from amongst my nephews. It is a pity that my sister was not allowed to raise them as she wished: they all would have been better for it.

As it is, Arthur is arrogant and spoiled; Ambrose vain and ridiculous. Do not mistake me for loving Aloysius best due to the defects of his brothers alone. He has a myriad of qualities to recommend him, but I have always especially been fond of his wit, his charm, and his mischievous side (which I am afraid is often shameless encouraged by his aunt).

Today he was all excitement: it was to be his first Feast of Noros which he was able to attend properly.

“Your guards won’t know what to do with themselves. This is the first time in six years where they won’t have to chase you down and drag you back.”

You could tell my jest had hurt his pride because the smile on his face began to fade and he rather defensively reminded me that he always managed to outsmart them every year, despite them being prepared for it, and even though he never got to attend the feast as he intended, you had to admit that it was rather impressive.

(I knew better than to remind him that the Turner twins had both managed to attend when they were six, as that was likely most of the reason his failure stung so).

“I almost made it last year, too,” He was quick to remind me, “Still hoped I would have gotten farther with an accomplice to distract the guards.”

(As a royal subject, helping a prince escape the palace alone and go off into the woods to celebrate well into the night with strangers is far from my proudest moment, but as an aunt who felt her nephew was often deprived some life experiences, I was quite pleased with myself).

“Ah, as I recall, the terms of our agreement were that if I were to help you, you were never to speak of it again.”

(He was poised to make a remark, but noting my expression, closed his mouth instead. Good boy).

“That’s better.”

“Did you see any spirits your first time, Aunt Helen?” He asked.

“Oh, yes. Hundreds. And you should have seen me. I was terribly brave.”

“Really?”

“No, not really. 

“You were scared?”

“Oh, terrified. And I didn’t even see any spirits to warrant it.”

“Then what scared you?”

(Oh, how to answer such a question?! Everything at the time. Everything except the spirits that might be lurking in the woods. I was more afraid of myself and afraid of other people discovering who and what I really was to be able to be afraid of much else. I spent most of the evening hanging about my sister’s skirts and trying to avoid everyone I didn’t recognize which was, thanks to the disguises everyone wore, most of those in attendance. But none of this would make a fitting answer for Aloysius.)

“The mere thought of running out of Remembrance Cakes.”

“You’re not going to tell me what really scared you?” 

“Of course not. Do you think I shall give you an unfair advantage by letting you in on the secret? You will have to figure it out, like everyone else, what happens during your first Feast of Noros.”