FanFic - Other
"Goodnight Moon"
Part 1
by Jez
Disclaimer: I don't own Roswell or the poem Goodnight Moon
Summary: The Daughter of King Zan contemplates the fall of the Royal Four. . . Spoilers: Some past life references to for season 2.
Category: Other
Rating: PG-13
Authors Note: This is dedicated to Ria and Katana, who helped me get the poem because they rock!
~* In the great green room
There was a telephone
And a red ballon
And a picture of-
The cow jumping over the moon
And there were three little bears sitting on chairs
And two little kittens
And a pair of mittens
And a little toyhouse
And a young mouse
And a comb and a brush and a bowl full of mush
And a quiet old lady who was whispering "hush" *~

Today, it all ended. My father's empire is no more.

Khivar has taken over everything -- the planet is now under his brutal control. Orphaned children are left to die in the streets as the invading armies scour the land in search for the granolyth. Fields burn with nearly unquenchable wildfires, temples and sanctuaries torn apart by the hands of the enemy. It did not used to be this way. Living in a state of constant fear, always wondering if this breath is my last. Because the last breath is closing in on us all.

When my family was alive, this terror was balanced by hope.

My father, Zan, was the ruler of this planet. He was a good king, and a kind man, although his actions betrayed him near the end of his reign. My aunt, Vilandra, was a warrior and military strategist. She loved the wrong man, let love manipulate her beyond recognition. My beloved Rath was a soldier. Strong and stubborn, yet caring and trustworthy. My father's wife, Ava, completed the unit, her loyalty and support greater than any other that I've ever known. Together, they were more powerful than it was ever thought possible. Whatever fault one had, another called it a strength. Together, they made one supreme system, nicknamed the "Royal Four."

My family escaped to the next plane only months ago. But instead of being born again, their essences were captured by scientists so that they might be recreated in foreign bodies. Our people know much of the human race, so their planet was chosen to be the hosts of their new forms. Renowned scientists worked night and day to produce the perfect bodies for them; immune to Earth diseases, yet human enough to have access to their hidden powers. The hybrids were cloned and placed in pods to be shuttled to Earth with the granolyth. The ship escaped from our planet months ago.

It was a danger to send the spacecraft, but a the same time, a necessary risk. Without the Royal Four, our planet has no hope. The Great War continued after my family's deaths, and I know that it will continue after mine. But today, the planet is given in full to Khivar.

Of course, this all is quite confusing unless the story is told properly. The chronicles of the Royal Four and their downfall. I suppose the story starts with my mother, Sioeln.

My mother was a beautiful and intelligent queen; the soul mate of my father. Although they met on a diplomatic mission, my father always claimed that it was love that bound them together. Captivated by each other, they married young. My mother ruled the kingdom at my father's side after the death of my grandfather. Together, they reformed the laws of our planet, bringing equality and equity into our judicial system. They brought the five races to peace, bringing country-wide feuds to rest and poverty to an all time low. Although they were young, the people adored them -- they worshipped the ground they walked on, believing that they would lead our planet into a golden era.

This only lasted until my birth.

You see, during my grandfather's reign, a disease spread between the five kingdoms that could not be cured by our means. Those infected with the disease agonized slowly and painfully, eventually succumbing to death's call after months of degeneration. The healing stones could perform miracles, but did not possess the strength to cure every soul infected. My people were forced to look to other resources for healing the suffering. The answer was found on Earth.

Being a race that is genetically compatible to ours, humans were ideal candidates for study. Ships of scientists and doctors were sent to study their bodies in their own habitats, to see if the cure was hidden within the tangled strands of their DNA. After years of research, it was found that human bodies contain a certain protein that is not found in our galaxy. This protein -- when properly manipulated with our own medicines -- could act as a vaccine to the plague that swept through the kingdom.

My mother caught the disease during her pregnancy with me. The vaccine was administered to her, but she was already infected. The sickness spread through her body, stealing her energy little by little each day until she was no more than a listless doll. There was no hope for my mother to survive the illness, but -- being in vitro -- my body somehow managed to become immune to the disease. Sioeln died giving birth to me. I myself have suffered all my life, raped of my powers for all time.

My father -- stricken with the death of his love -- coddled me mercilessly, afraid that my lack of powers would leave me vulnerable to any number of dangers. It is true that all my life, I have never been able to heal a cut or throw up a protective shield, but I adapted. I found that weakness is a state of mind and health, and has very little to do with powers. Yet my father still kept me under his wing, ensuring that I was attended to like an infant at all times.

I remember the day my father finally lost his purpose. It was after his marriage to Ava, a young aristocratic woman whose age was equal to that of my mother at her death.

Ava was chosen by the council of elders because of her cunning, poise, and diplomatic skills. But above all, I will remember her as a good mother. She was a good woman, but that was a trait which escaped my father. Although he treated her as well as he could, my father could never give her love. He saw her only as a cheap replacement for my mother. He would never let me call her "Mother," despite the fact that she raised me from the time I was a small child. My father spent more time doting on me, as an escape from the pressures of marriage.

Studying the human race has always been a passion of mine. Maybe because it is that their proteins are the reason why I am alive today, or maybe it's just because their culture so different from ours. My fascination did not escape the eyes of my father. From the time he discovered my interest, his space teams would return from Earth with human relics for me to indulge in. We spent hours together marveling over their strange technology.

It was our ritual, my father and I. We would sit on my bedside, listening to human musicians while he told me stories about my mother. About her eyes and how they would captivate him for hours. About her voice and how it would float on the wind. He would list our similarities and our differences. I was excitable while she was calm; I was loud while she was quiet, although both our natures were sweet and nurturing. My father never tired of speaking about her, as if he could relive her through the images in my head.

But as I grew, he kept me his child. Although Ava would insist that it was safe for me to visit the markets or attend a social, my father still held my hand as we descended stairs and ordered the spices in my food to be kept to a minimum. In his eyes, I was always sick -- I always needed to his attention more than his neglected wife.

I remember the first time I met Rath. He was young, stubborn, cocky, and so much more. Rath was a warrior; a protector of the weak and vulnerable. With my disabilities, I was more vulnerable than a child. At least, with the traditional view of one's ability to survive solely placed on their powers.

I was kidnapped by a group of terrorists at the turning point of the Great War. Being a weakling, the enemy did not see me as a threat. Without powers, I had no way to attack or escape. It seems that they had no knowledge of adaptation either. I escaped from their holdings, far from civilization in the forest. I ran away as swiftly as I could, using the stealth I have practiced over the years to evade my many servants. My captors could not sense me; the minuscule energy I emitted made me easily mistaken for a small animal.

I'll never know how I made it to the battlefield -- all I know is that running half a mile through a network of energy blasts and disintegrating bodies is not my idea of good fun for a sunny afternoon. But when you are a princess who emerged from the woods into a battalion of enemy soldiers, you run. It's not like they would kill someone as important as me. The ransom my father was capable of paying for my return would be given to bounty hunters in a moment's notice. So they ran after me, like children on a game field.

My father's soldiers caught me before they could, fighting for my life with a passion that they would not use to preserve for their own. One soldier in particular fought for my life harder than the rest. One with wild eyes and a rebellious attitude. He insisted on carrying me the whole way back to our territory, on giving me his rations even though he went hungry. This young soldier protected me -- against my frequent objections -- until the reinforcements came.

When a transport came to retrieve me, the commander insisted that Rath join us back to the palace. I didn't mind. It saved me from having to make up an excuse to take him away from the battle. He was still obstinate -- still pampered me like a young girl would her doll. And I still fought back, until he would use his powers to keep me from arguing anymore.

My father liked Rath immediately, impressed with his knowledge of war and his perseverance. Although he was young -- not much older than I was at the time -- Rath was chosen to be my father's second. The fact that his powers complimented my father, aunt, and step-mother's so completely impressed the elders enough not to question the decision. They were nicknamed the Royal Four. Together, they were indestructible. Unfortunately, together was the key word.

I loved Rath from the beginning, but I knew that I couldn't be with him. It was impossible. Although I could legally be married, my father still saw me as a helpless child. He still needed to protect me. It gave him a purpose -- a balance -- when his world became to harsh, too complicated for him to deal with. I was his poor, sickly daughter who needed his undivided attention. And Rath -- well, he would not commit to me without my father's permission. He wanted our souls to be joined by marriage, and without my father's permission, the ceremony could not be performed under our customs. Rath only allowed himself to disclose his love as far as proper formalities would allow him.

Still, we stole our moments. Sometimes, Rath would escape into my chamber late at night. He would never touch me -- it was too dangerous if someone were to witness it and tell my father. But in the end, it didn't matter. We would stay up all night, talking about our lives, our future. I was still so innocent. My troubles did not even amount to his, and yet Rath listen with a rapt interest that no other would give me. He treated me like a person, and that is what I loved about him most of all. Rath was not afraid to hurt me -- he never thought me weak -- yet he still protected me.

Our happiness didn't last long. The walls have ears, and every ear led back to my father. He was furious at Rath, believing that he somehow took advantage of me. In his eyes, Rath betrayed him, despite what truths I told him. My father wanted to protect me -- to keep me the child that I still am today. He decided to marry my aunt, Vilandra, off to Rath, henceforth ensuring my "safety." Both protested adamantly, but he would have none of it. My father alienated them all.

King Zan ignored his wife, mistrusted his second-in command, and estranged his sister. And as for me; he destroyed me. My father broke my heart. Because Rath's loyalties resided with him. Rath could not go against him. He was a soldier -- a warrior above all. There was too much at stake for our people to waste it on misguided feelings of hostility between my father and himself. Even when offered a chance to lead a division of the rebellion himself, Rath still honored my father. He loved me, but promised himself to my aunt at the will of a man who would never trust him again.

My father sent Rath to the front line of the battlefields, praying for his death, all the while supplying me with more treasures from Earth as if to soothe my aching soul. Records and toy cars were taken from Earth to replace my beloved. Once, he ordered the scientists to bring back some cows, leading to an awkward situation where the poor animals were mutilated. My father did not realize that he had forever broken the precious Royal Four.

Rath was sent on suicide missions while my step-mother still played the kind and faithful wife, believing that one day my father would love her as she loved him. As for Vilandra. . . my aunt sought solace in another man's arms.


He was an influential man -- good, kind, prosperous, spoke for the people. An esteemed politician who's true intentions were not realized until it was too late.

It was not until the war came to our doorstep before my father realized the error of his ways, and my aunt realized the web of betrayal that she became a part of. Khivar killed her without a thought when she protested his rebellion. Ava threw herself in front of my father before his life could be taken as well. Her blood stained my hands as I tried to stop the flow, useless to heal the mortal wound while my father died battling for our lives.

He came to me once the fighting reached the city. Unexpectedly, Rath burst into the throne room, weapons in hand, blood running down his forehead. Enemy soldiers invaded the palace, yet he risked his life to come back to help me escape. Rath protected me to the end, giving his life for mine. And just like that, they were all gone. King Zan, Queen Ava, Vilandra, Rath -- my father, my step-mother, my aunt, my love. They were gone.

I tried to lead the rebellion against Khivar after they left us. But I was never raised to be a leader. I was raised to be weak. And I was. I am. I fought as hard as I could, but no one would follow me. I had no power. I was the disabled invalid daughter of a dead king -- princess to a fallen empire. And now, I am wife to Khivar.

He gave me no choice. Thousands of lives hung in the balance, and suddenly, I understood why my father needed me to be sick. I understand. He needed to feel important; like he was making a difference. Like he could make a difference. My father needed to see the results of his efforts in front of him, as he could not with his decisions for our planet.

I must admit, it was a brilliant political move on Khivar's part. What easier way is there to the throne than through marriage? I know I will not last the night. I have outlived my purpose. Khivar has won.

Today, the last spacecraft has returned home. According to my husband, there is no need for such missions. We have learned all that we can from the humans. I hold a thin book in my hands. A children's book, "Goodnight Moon." My last treasure from my father. This is the good-bye my family was not able to give me. Now I sit here, waiting for my husband -- my own personal angel of death -- to return.

So goodnight, Father. I hope that in the next life, you will learn to trust those around you. Goodnight Vilandra. I hope that you will one day forgive me for wedding your love, even though he betrayed you more than I. Goodnight Ava. I hope that fate will give you someone who will return your loyalties. And goodnight Rath, my love. I know that we will meet again in the next life.

~* Goodnight room
Goodnight moon
Good night cow jumping over the moon
Goodnight light
And the red balloon
Goodnight bears
Goodnight chairs
Goodnight kittens
And goodnight mittens *~

The sound of soldiers marching down the hall thunders through my room. Paintings of Vincent Van Gogh and Claude Monet that my father's scientists had retrieved for me fall from the walls, crushing records of Frank Sinatra and Louis Armstrong. I sit in this room full of my past -- of my memories -- and wait for the inevidable.

~* Goodnight clocks
And goodnight socks
Goodnight little house
And goodnight mouse
Goodnight comb
And goodnight brush
Goodnight nobody
Goodnight mush
And goodnight to the old lady whispering "hush"
Goodnight stars
Goodnight air *~

I close my eyes as the door swings open and my husband's private guards enter my chamber. Still, the light emitted from their hands is blinding.

~* Goodnight noises everywhere *~

~*The End*~

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