Abyssina 31 - Princess of the Northern Horde
darthcourt10
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Snippet 30: S0ngD0g13
"... Daughter and Heir of the Princess of the Northern Horde."
Canut froze. "That is a title I hadn't heard in many a year. Nor is it a title I have ever coveted."
Arval smiled, showing shark-like teeth. "Yet it is a title that is yours by right. Tell me of the War, and of the battles. How fare we?"
Canut shook her head. "Stalemated, and we've suffered losses. Central Atlantic is slain; Middle-World Ocean is slain at the hands of Ancient Gateway, who seeks peace and commerce with the Humans. Northern Horde... Mother... She fell within the first ten hours, to a crippled aircraft on a suicide-dive and traitors among her fleet who turned their guns away and let it strike."
"Then the Princess is dead... Long Live Canut, Princess of the Northern Horde."
"I am no Princess," snarled Canut, "nor do I wish to be. I am a Demon, and a Demon I shall stay."
"To be young and foolish... Whether ye wish it or not, that is your Wyrd, Daughter of the Horde. There will always be a Northern Horde Princess, and this knowledge I will grant you freely, for in your heart of hearts you know it already."
Arval drew a rune in the air with one clawed finger; it burned with eldritch light before expanding and shifting to show an image of the world. "You have met Demons and Princesses named for places, yes? The Demons of Cape Good Hope and Cape Horn; the Princesses of This Place or of That... But Elder Princesses, they do not merely take their names from their territories. Middle-World Ocean Princess wasn't merely named for the Mediterranean; she represented it, represented the First Sea that ever wet a keel, and embodied the cruel and fickle nature of the wine-dark waters Homer sang of. One day, another will rise and claim that title; as long as tales are told of the Greeks and Carthaginians and Romans, as long as Homer's songs are sung of Odysseus and peoples remember when Athens was told that only the wooden wall would save them from the Persians... There will always be a Middle-World Ocean Princess."
She continued. "For as long as peoples remember that the Gateway to the New World was in the Azores, remember that spirit of adventure and of discovery, of changing from Old to New, there will always be a Princess of the Ancient Atlantic Gateway..."
Arval met Canut's eyes and the Battleship could hear the phantom sound of steel-on-steel, of oarsmens' drums and cries of battle and dedications to the Aesir... "As long as the sagas are sung and the stories told of the fierce Northmen, who fared far along the whale-ways on stout wave-steeds, and ever fed the sea-wolves and the war-gulls... there will always be a Northern Horde Princess."
Canut watched as the map vanished. "Those that canny Gateway calls 'Petty Princesses' are drawn, as is their nature, to those places where great deeds were done and history made, to places whose names echo in song and story. Places heavy with the weight of Power. But Elder Princesses are those who represent and in many ways embody those places which echo in Myth and Legend. The Mediterranean, Homer's wine-dark sea; the Azores, Gateway from the Old World to the New; the iron-gray Baltic- and North Seas, where came the Norse who were terror to all Europe."
Arval drew an empty horn from within her hull. "You come seeking knowledge, and knowledge demands a price. You wish that Power pass you by, that the Crown rest not upon your head, but it is that Power which will see you complete the trial set before you, for Knowledge is Power."
The submarine dipped the horn into the well. "Drink and you will gain the knowledge you seek, but at a price; a Demon you are and wish to remain, but to know what you seek to know you must not a Demon stay. If you refuse you will die at Gateway's hand, and if you drink you will live, but you will be a Princess."
"... Daughter and Heir of the Princess of the Northern Horde."
Canut froze. "That is a title I hadn't heard in many a year. Nor is it a title I have ever coveted."
Arval smiled, showing shark-like teeth. "Yet it is a title that is yours by right. Tell me of the War, and of the battles. How fare we?"
Canut shook her head. "Stalemated, and we've suffered losses. Central Atlantic is slain; Middle-World Ocean is slain at the hands of Ancient Gateway, who seeks peace and commerce with the Humans. Northern Horde... Mother... She fell within the first ten hours, to a crippled aircraft on a suicide-dive and traitors among her fleet who turned their guns away and let it strike."
"Then the Princess is dead... Long Live Canut, Princess of the Northern Horde."
"I am no Princess," snarled Canut, "nor do I wish to be. I am a Demon, and a Demon I shall stay."
"To be young and foolish... Whether ye wish it or not, that is your Wyrd, Daughter of the Horde. There will always be a Northern Horde Princess, and this knowledge I will grant you freely, for in your heart of hearts you know it already."
Arval drew a rune in the air with one clawed finger; it burned with eldritch light before expanding and shifting to show an image of the world. "You have met Demons and Princesses named for places, yes? The Demons of Cape Good Hope and Cape Horn; the Princesses of This Place or of That... But Elder Princesses, they do not merely take their names from their territories. Middle-World Ocean Princess wasn't merely named for the Mediterranean; she represented it, represented the First Sea that ever wet a keel, and embodied the cruel and fickle nature of the wine-dark waters Homer sang of. One day, another will rise and claim that title; as long as tales are told of the Greeks and Carthaginians and Romans, as long as Homer's songs are sung of Odysseus and peoples remember when Athens was told that only the wooden wall would save them from the Persians... There will always be a Middle-World Ocean Princess."
She continued. "For as long as peoples remember that the Gateway to the New World was in the Azores, remember that spirit of adventure and of discovery, of changing from Old to New, there will always be a Princess of the Ancient Atlantic Gateway..."
Arval met Canut's eyes and the Battleship could hear the phantom sound of steel-on-steel, of oarsmens' drums and cries of battle and dedications to the Aesir... "As long as the sagas are sung and the stories told of the fierce Northmen, who fared far along the whale-ways on stout wave-steeds, and ever fed the sea-wolves and the war-gulls... there will always be a Northern Horde Princess."
Canut watched as the map vanished. "Those that canny Gateway calls 'Petty Princesses' are drawn, as is their nature, to those places where great deeds were done and history made, to places whose names echo in song and story. Places heavy with the weight of Power. But Elder Princesses are those who represent and in many ways embody those places which echo in Myth and Legend. The Mediterranean, Homer's wine-dark sea; the Azores, Gateway from the Old World to the New; the iron-gray Baltic- and North Seas, where came the Norse who were terror to all Europe."
Arval drew an empty horn from within her hull. "You come seeking knowledge, and knowledge demands a price. You wish that Power pass you by, that the Crown rest not upon your head, but it is that Power which will see you complete the trial set before you, for Knowledge is Power."
The submarine dipped the horn into the well. "Drink and you will gain the knowledge you seek, but at a price; a Demon you are and wish to remain, but to know what you seek to know you must not a Demon stay. If you refuse you will die at Gateway's hand, and if you drink you will live, but you will be a Princess."