The Princess Bazelle Saga #4: The Fashionistas of War

The fourth in a collaborative series between myself (mostly story, a little art) and @justclickindiva (the BIG IMPORTANT ART -- check out the NFT on NFT Showroom below!)

Art by @justclickindiva -- NFT available in just TWO EDITIONS, here!

Another day, another ceremony for Princess Bazelle – with her accession to adulthood came her official appointment to the royal defense force for her star system.

I knew that she had wanted her place, serving under her father the king, since childhood, and that she was the youngest and last of the king's children to attain that honor, so, it was a bit emotional for me as well to see her at least in the royal armor, fully endowed at last with the tokens of her rank and responsibility.

I was a bit more surprised when they handed over her ceremonial sword –

Art by @justclickindiva

– because at that point it dawned on me what was really going on, and not a moment too soon because my eight-year-old son and my five-year-old baby daughter Laura Aurelia both had questions.

“I mean, it's pretty and all, but, what does that stuff really do – it doesn't look like a suit of real armor to me,” said Marcus Valerian, whom we called Mark V to distinguish him from his often "Mark"ed father and grandfather, both Marcus Aurelius Kirk.

“Why do you boys think it can't be pretty and work?” Laura snapped, and they, being Kirks like myself, would have started fighting right there, but …

“Don't even think about it,” I said in conjunction with Mrs. V.T. Kirk's cold look at them, and they settled right down as we watched the indoor portion of the ceremony.

On our way outside, I explained.

“So, you see how I am wearing a business suit and your mother her admiral's dress uniform, right?” I said to Mark V and Laura.

“Yes,” they said.

“Uniforms are ceremonial fashion, just like that suit of armor,” I said. “They are meant to signal order and power to those who understand the symbols. Now, what Her Highness is wearing and her weapon means nothing to us by looking, but those that have lived around her people for decades understand the symbolism perfectly.”

“Okay, so, it's like fashion for warrior women,” Mark V said.

“Basically,” I said. “Your mother's dress uniform is another example – it's beautiful and she is beautiful in it, but if you understand all that gold braid and all those rank insignia she has on, you know that's a big-time warrior woman that the whole galaxy better think twice about messing with.”

“Right, because Mom is not just a warrior woman!” Laura said. “She's a fashionista of war!”

“You don't even know how to spell fashionista!” Marcus said.

“So what – you don't either!” Laura shot back, and stuck out her tongue at him.

“Stop,” I said, and they settled down again.

“Don't make your father say that again,” their mother growled, and they settled all the way down.

“So, there's still one more thing to think about when it comes to Princess Bazelle,” I said. “Remember: she's appearing in walking form like you and me, but she is naturally in spectral form. When I was just a little older than Marcia [their eldest sister who was 14 at that time], I met Princess Bazelle as a child, and already, she could fill the equivalent of a basketball with gas she got by pinching it off the seventh planet. So, what we see as her armor really represents powers in spectral form that she has now been granted to use.”

Sure enough, we arrayed ourselves in the proper place, and Princess Bazelle appeared in her true form, taking up one-tenth of the night sky, the figure of her armor now showing as the various forms of energy protecting her, her fire thread sword glowing beside her. By telekinesis, she cast it into the atmosphere, and a billion volts of lightning leapt to it and charged it up until it was a brilliant, glowing red, its feather-like delicacy brilliantly highlighted in all its power.

Mark V's mouth fell wide open.

“Does that answer your question about whether the armor and weapons are any good, Mark V?” I said gently.

“Yes, Dad, it does.”

“And she's still beautiful – she's a fashionista of war now too, isn't she, Mom?” Laura said.

“Yes, Laura, she most certainly is.”

“You all ought to have a fashionista of war show sometime!”

I heard a familiar chuckle in my head … that was His Majesty, Bazelle's father.

“That can be arranged, since you arranged a basketball game for my baby girl, once upon a time,” he said.

I wondered if I could speak back to him mentally …

“Yes, I hear you, Captain Kirk. Although you are not a telepath, if you concentrate, I can hear you.”

“I meant to say thank you, Your Majesty.”

“My pleasure, Captain Kirk.”

Sure enough: after the pomp and circumstance was all done, my family got to go 'backstage,' if you will … Princess Bazelle invited my wife and daughters to a private showing of herself in the latest fashions... that armor was versatile, for she could materialize it any way she wished!

Art by @justclickindiva

Art by @justclickindiva

Art by @justclickindiva

Art by @justclickindiva

… and each of my three daughters got a “bodied” hat!

Art by @justclickindiva

Mark V got a more complex hat …

Art by @justclickindiva

… that would allow him to do all kinds of techy things that he loved.

Baby Laurence received a ring-of-the elements toy and a new baby basket for us to carry him around in, a basket which recalled the color, softness, and strength of Princess Bazelle's own weapon:

Art by @justclickindiva

Then it came down to my wife and me.

“Ad-miiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii-ral,” the princess said, emphasizing the long E sound that meant so much to her people, “your reputation of course precedes you, and of all the fully bodied women there could have been to be Lady Kiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii-irk, he could have made no better choice.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” my wife said, and curtsied deeply. “The pleasure and the honor of being Lady Kirk is a great one.”

“Such a great lady ought to approach a royal level of fashion as well,” the princess said.

Laura came running over.

“Mom is already a fashionista of war, just like you, Your Highness!”

Princess Bazelle smiled, and picked up my baby girl.

“I heard, littlest lady Kiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii-irk,” she said, and kissed her gently before waving her hand … and behold, my wife suddenly had the purple wrap-around gown the princess had appeared in, in her size.

Art by Deeann D. Mathews, the author

Perfect fit, of course!

“What about the green one – with the bracelets and earrings and stuff?” Laura said, and Princess Bazelle smiled.

"Already got it covered, my little friend."

Art by Deeann D. Mathews, the author

Art by @justclickindiva

Art by @justclickindiva

“Perfect – thank you!”

“Thank you indeed, Your Highness,” my wife said.

And, at last, to me, she presented a copy of her own sword, sized and energized properly for me.

“In your wisdom, you will know what to do with this powerful weapon, in defense of your own family – my father has tuned it to your thought patterns.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” I said, bowing.

“Now,” she said, “there is one thing all of us need to do – even fashionistas of war have to do it.”

“What?” Laura said.

“Let's go eat,” Princess Bazelle said.

“You all eat?” Mark V said.

“Yes, in this form,” the princess said. “We like food as much as you do!”

“What do you eat in the other form?” he said. “Stardust, maybe?”

“It's a long story,” she said, “but, with your parents' permission, we have time.”

“We have time,” my wife and I said together.

“We're just trying to behave over here,” Marcia said, “but … .”

“We want to know too but we already know what is going to happen if we get out of line at all these ceremonies!” Valerie said.

“Well, even fashionistas of war can have a night off,” I said. “At ease – let's go eat!”

Princess Bazelle smiled warmly at me … she was not telepathic officially yet, but I could sense all the memories between us … she thought of herself as something like the rich royal aunt to my children, and of me with deep affection and admiration, like a little sister to her brother. We would finally have a chance to really talk and get thoroughly caught up that night, the last night of the celebrations and before my family headed for home. A lot had happened in the 26 years since we had met, but now, we were both right where we were supposed to be in life, and traveling on.

“It has been a beautiful journey for us and our families, with dark and light in it, but beautiful,” she said.

“I agree, Your Highness. Not an easy road for either of us, but, it has been a beautiful journey, and, I expect that 26 years hence if we are able to get together and reflect, we will look back and say that again.”

“I expect so too, noble Kiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii-irk, and family.”