#i always forget about auren's dry sense of humor

[bookshelf-in-progress]

@isfjmel-phleg Well, I couldn't resist that prompt. This is extremely rough, and I reserve the right to decanonize any of this, but I had to take a stab at writing these two in this situation.

Beyond The Legend

"Tanza, what's this?" Auren called.

Tanza stormed into her house's gathering area, tossing aside the cloth she'd been wiping the dining table with. "Auren, I told you not to touch the electronics until I was rea—"

She froze.

The projection screen on the far wall was filled with the dull sparkle of a classic lumiscopic drama. The glimmers of purple and green added layers of depth to the muted colors of the image—which showed a square-jawed, golden-haired tephan man with ragged finery and a few artistically-placed smears of blood on his all-too-handsome face.

Auren was sitting on a soft chair, staring at the image. "Who is that?"

"An actor," Tanza said quickly, desperately scanning the room for the controls. If there was one drama Auren should not see…

"Naturally," Auren said, rolling his eyes. "What is his name? He seems familiar."

"Corphan Holbrith," Tanza said, then cursed her thoughtlessness. Auren might know the name. She might not be able to stop the showstream in time…

Auren's brow furrowed. "I've heard that name before. Usually accompanied by 'you're not as handsome as'."

"Well, you're not." Where on Arateph had Auren put her datapad?

"Thank you for your support, Tanza."

On the screen, Corphan Holbrith limped up a rocky mountain path, leaning heavily upon a man in an ill-fitting suit of workers' clothes.

Auren examined the image. "Do I resemble him? It's odd that its been remarked upon so often."

"He's extremely famous," Tanza said, desperately hoping to distract his attention. Why hadn't she sprung to get voice-controlled showstreams?

"For what?"

"He's been in a million lumiscopic dramas."

Behind the shelf—was that the control? Tanza dove to the floor. Just the light controls. She sprang to her feet, disgusted.

By now, Corphan Holbrith had reached a ramshackle door in the mountainside, but he was pulling away from his companion. "I must return," he said. "My people have need of me."

His companion tried to hold him back. "You must save yourself, lirishan."

Auren jumped at the word—a naming tongue title applied only to the crown prince.

The companion continued, " If Prince Auren dies, all hope is lost."

Tanza sank into a soft chair, defeated.

Auren gazed at her in open astonishment. "Is he—?"

"Prince Auren," Tanza sighed. "About thirty years ago, this role launched Holbrith's career. This drama was a sensation. Won all sorts of awards. People went crazy over it."

"Have you seen it?"

"A few times," Tanza said casually. Not in a million years would she tell Auren that she'd watched it every night for a year when she was twelve.

Auren grinned and turned back to the screen, his eyes sparkling with delight. "What's it about?"

Well, it didn't look like Auren was spiraling into traumatic memories, so maybe Tanza could run with this.

"Your typical revolutionary alternate history," she said. "Prince Auren was saved from the brink of death by a beautiful lady rebel who fell in love with him, was rescued by royalists, then escaped into the mountains, lost his memory, became a beloved member of the community, fell in love with the rebel lady, regained his memory, then had to decide whether to choose love or royal duty."

"What did he choose?"

"He tries to claim his kingdom, of course, while staying faithful to his love, but they both have to go into hiding and wait for the right time to emerge. It's all very artistic."

On-screen, the faux Prince Auren collapsed from exhaustion, while the beautiful dark-haired lady rebel wept over him, and berated the nobleman who'd been helping him up the mountain.

"I see that," Auren said with a grin.

"We can watch something else," Tanza said, finally spotting the controls beside the window.

"Not for all the money on Arateph."

Tanza shrugged and relaxed into her seat.

She had seen the drama a few times since she was twelve, but not since she'd met the actual Auren. The false history seemed even more melodramatic now that the real history was no longer hidden. Prince Auren was heroic and romantic—a sheltered royal cast out into a harsh world, tortured by his losses and driven by virtue.

"Please tell me I don't talk like that," Auren said.

The faux Prince Auren was giving a speech that had won Holbrith his first acting award. It actually was something Tanza could imagine the real Auren saying—all about hope in adversity—but the voice sounded strange in a way it never had before.

It was a pitch-perfect imitation of the way the royal accent sounded in decaying copies of pre-revolutionary recordings, but nothing like Auren's real voice—refined and old-fashioned, but with plenty of warmth and humor.

"Not a bit," Tanza said.

"Thank all the stars."

The story continued through yet another chase scene set among soaring mountain landscapes. "They thought I was in Kepha?" Auren asked.

"It made sense at the time," Tanza said. "Your mother's family was there, and the mountains have lots of places to hide."

Auren stared at the screen a moment, processing this new information. "No wonder it took them a hundred years to find me."

The story continued through chase scenes and fights, bouts of amnesia, dramatic speeches, narrow escapes, and touching emotional moments. The story was silly, sometimes surprisingly heartwrenching—but the story she'd seen a million times felt brand-new with the real Auren sitting beside her.

Once, Corphan Holbrith's Auren had been Tanza's ideal. He was noble. Unshakeable. A bit sheltered, but with a good heart. Capable of knocking down any number of rebels and then declaring his feelings to the love of his life. Enough inner turmoil to be endlessly fascinating to a twelve year old girl.

Holbrith's Auren was by far the most flattering portrayal of the controversial prince, but he was a pale shadow when placed next to the real thing. His Auren wasn't someone who would cook a meal, chat about the little details of a history student's day, laugh over a silly melodrama, face a world a hundred years in his own future.

The last scene of the story faded out—Prince Auren gazing over the land that he swore he would one day save, before disappearing into the mountain forest—leaving only the real Prince Auren.

"So that's the life I missed out on," Auren said. "I'm almost sad I slept through it instead. The real history must be disappointing compared to the legend."

"Are you kidding?" Tanza asked.

"It's certainly less exciting," Auren said. "And I'm no Corphan Holbrith."

"No," Tanza said, turning off the projector. "Believe me, the real thing is much better."