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[Ariana Lenoir]

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"Say your prayers, " Ariana said quietly.

Catherine pursed her lips slightly, but obediently made her way to the window. "Yes, Mother " she said quietly. The bottom of her white nightgown brushed against the floor as a gentle breeze from the villa's open bedroom window toyed with the young girl's dark hair. "Will you say them with me tonight, Mother?" she asked.

"As you wish." Ariana came forward and stood alongside her daughter as they looked up at the twin moons' rising in the ebony sky. Neither made any motion to kneel or bow their heads as was typical of most bedtime prayers. The recited the prayer in unison and although their voices were low, the child's voice mirrored word for word the determined undertone and faith of her mother's words.

"Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank w'atever gods may be
F'my unconquerable soul."

"In the fell clutch o' circumstance
I have nay winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeoning o' chance,
My head is bloody, but unbowed."

"Beyond this place o' wrath an' tears
Looms but the horror o' the shade,
An' yet menace o' the years
Finds, an' shall find, me unafraid."

"It matters nay how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the Master o' my Fate:
I am the Captain o' my Soul."

They both paused at the end and took a long silent moment to gaze at the moons. Ariana slowly looked down and nodded once as if in quiet approval. Catherine looked up and smiled at the nod. Ariana's pale blue eyes then flickered to the child's bed and the young girl responded with obedience and climbed in. Ariana walked over, pulling back the covers as the child clambered underneath the expensive silk sheets. She gently pulled the covers over the girl and began to lean over to kiss her on the forehead.

"I don't want to dream anymore, " Catherine said quietly as Ariana leaned over.

Ariana paused as one of her eyebrows arched gracefully. She hovered there silent for a moment before speaking, "Dreams are a gift, my child."

"These aren't, " the girl said with a determined purse of her tiny lips.

"All dreams are, " Ariana said firmly. Catherine looked unconvinced as she looked up at her mother's eyes. Ariana paused a moment and continued as if she assessed the need for further clarification, "It is dreams which 'elp the young dream of the future, the grown t'endure it an' the old t'remember the past. Without the dreaming, life would become stagnant an' it would cease t'exist."

"They aren't -that- important..." Catherine said.

"Aye, they are, " Ariana reaffirmed. "When ye stop dreaming, a part o' yer humanity fades. Dreaming is w'at gives ye life an' nourishes yer mind. "

"Is humanity really all -that- important?" the girl asked. "Many important people aren't human."

"Most of them were living at one time or another. It was those dreams that helped them choose their path. Without it, they would not be who they are today." Ariana smiled calmly as if in silent reassurance, "Besides... humanity is very important for young queens."

"What if I don't want to be queen?" she said as she scowled.

"Ye can nay change who ye are..." Ariana said quietly.

The girl's eyes that were a mirrored image of the stunning blue of her mother's, sparkled with keen intelligence despite her age. "I am the Master of my Fate. I am the Captain of my Soul, " she repeated from the prayer.

Ariana's eyebrow arched further for a moment as if surprised slightly by her daughter's words. Her face relax as she spoke quietly, "Aye..."

"Then I can choose to not be queen. " Catherine grinned slightly.

"Theoretically, ye could... "

Catherine studied her mother's face which remained void of any discernible emotion. "The prayer is a contradiction. If I can not change who I am and yet I am the master of my fate. It can not be both, Mother."

"I ne'er said ye could nay change what ye will do. Ye can choose w'at path ye take."

"Then I could choose not to be queen. I could become a seamstress instead."

"Ye could choose t'pursue that, but you would still be a queen trapped in the mundane life o' a seamstress. Ye were born t'rule, nay sew."

"I could be happy being a seamstress. I wouldn't have to mind my manners, no more boring classes and book work and I could marry whomever I chose."

"Ye might find happiness f'awhile, but nay forever. Livin' isn't 'bout happiness, my daughter. Livin' is 'bout embracin' who ye are an' fulfillin' yer full potential. To deny one's self will only breed unhappiness and discontentment. Should ye live t'see yerself ol' an' gray, would the quality o' the garments ye 'ad created bring more happiness than knowin' ye had 'elped shape the world itself? It would nay."

"Let someone else shape the world, " the girl said stubbornly.

"It isn't who they are." Ariana leaned over the rest of the way and placed her brisk lips upon the child's forehead and bestowed a silent kiss. She rose back up, continuing to look down at the child. "The lower class view often view us as selfish and conceited. They do nay see the true reality as their mundane lives 'ave left them blind from a much larger perspective. The true bloods in this world, the ones whom were born t'rule are the least selfish o' all. We cannae' deny our true nature. Ye were born f'greater things than sewin' a skirt. Ye mus' live up t'yer true potential an' accept it completely. Only then will ye find the pristine calm t'at life can provide."

Catherine sighed a bit as if resigned to the fact she wasn't going to win this arguement. "Yes, Mother."

"Rest well, my child. Bad dreams are nay f'ever. Ye will learn t'control yer dreams with time." Ariana spoke with a tone of reassurance as she turned down the lantern that sat on the child's nightstand. She looked back at Catherine who was looking out the window at the moons and studied her for a moment before leaving the room. She walked down the hallway and down the stairs to the sitting room. She sat down quietly at a desk and begun the task of approving documents, signing off on purchase orders and responding to letters that had been sent to her.

She had read in a tome on the subject of psychology that by the time a child was approaching eight years of age that their outlook on the world was pretty much set in stone. She hoped that book was accurate. The child's eighth birthday was approaching as was the time of their return to Umbra. She had hoped she had done enough to provide the girl a strong sense of foundation before she subjected the girl to Lord Darrien Church. Only time would tell.

As morning approached, Ariana headed to bed. She would not dream as young Catherine would. She would not dream at all.

Her embrace into the world of kindred has cemented that painful reality. Memories were all that remained. Some good. Some bad. All hers.
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