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Pre-Chapter Notes: Well, here the story begins! This isn't going to be too exciting compared to later chapters, but it's... just exposition, mostly. Setting the stage if you will. Anyway, even if there are no explosions or fights breaking out here, I hope you'll enjoy it!

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Is my condition a blessing or a curse? Every night, before I go to bed, my mind always wanders to this question. The answer to it varies, depending on how my day went, but I have never reached a solid conclusion. On a normal day, I'm content with it—no one expects me to answer them, so I can just go about my daily business without interacting. On bad days, where I see my master abuse one of the other servants, I ache to cry out. It's for the best that I don't, however, or I might suffer the same fate.

Up until I was nine, I would often cry myself to sleep. I prayed to this being called "God," the one that everyone kept on saying was our benevolent creator that would never forsake any of us. But that was years ago, and I've long since come to the conclusion that if my words can't be heard, neither can my prayers. Or maybe God just refuses to hear them. Either way, it's clear to me now that I'm alone.

Yet that is how I've come to prefer it. If no one cares about me, then it matters not how my life is or how I am treated. Having no one has forced me to become self-sufficient. Now, it's not that I don't have anyone. It's that I don't need anyone.

That being said, postulating that I need no one is going slightly too far—I do need my master. For as long as I can recall, I have lived in his castle. My living conditions are meager. For starters, I sleep in a cramped, cold, damp room with all thirty-one other servants, with nothing but a strip of cloth that half covers my body to keep me warm. I'm given bread and water in the morning and night that used to leave me begging for more—now my stomach has shrunken to a small enough size that it fills me. All the same, without my master I would have nowhere to live, so I am still in his debt.

One thing my master is happy to do, however, is assign me to tasks that I work on alone—he lets me do so since he believes that I am an efficient worker. Today, I was cleaning his dining room table. My master, being an influential noble in this country and an important figure in the civil war, often has guests over to discuss a variety of things, mainly battle plans and diplomacy. As I served during the meal, I heard talk about a valuable hostage they had gained. I didn't catch who it was, but loud cheers followed, and people ate more ravenously than usual, so cleaning tonight was going to be a bit of a chore.

About halfway through my job, the double doors burst open and in came my master, and one of his guards who kept an iron grip on a girl I had never seen before. She looked to be about my age, and in fact gave off the appearance of being wealthier than my master. She was wearing servant's clothing, but it was her appearance that seemed to radiate good fortune: her straight, light brown hair fell down to her shoulders and gave off a glossy sheen. Her skin was pale, smooth, and without any scars, save for one long gash along her arm that glowed an angry red. But most of all, I could tell by looking straight into her eyes—there was just that inexplicable something missing from them that betrayed hardship.

My master looked at me. "Chane, meet the thirty-third servant, Lara," he said. Lara… Why did that name sound familiar? But it wasn't my place to ask. I had a different question anyway, so I cocked my head to indicate confusion. "You're probably wondering why she's here," he started. I nodded in response. "Well, who she is isn't important to you, but she is going to be working with you for a while." My eyes widened, and apparently he caught my look for he added, "I know you prefer to work alone, but she needs to be watched at all times, and she can't be trusted with any of the other servants."

I easily figured out why he chose me to keep a watch on her above all the others—it wasn't that he trusted me more than any of them; it was the fact that I couldn't tell her anything. Not to mention that I had never disobeyed him before. I simply nodded again, for although I preferred to work alone, I didn't have any real objections to this (and again, it wouldn't have made any difference if I did).

With this, she was roughly shoved into the room by the guard and fell to the cold stone floor. My master and his guard briskly left and the doors slammed behind them. She slowly and shakily pushed herself up, her hair only partially covering her watery eyes. Most people I know would have been angry at being pushed, and yet she had only been sad. Yet this conflicted with what I had seen in her eyes only seconds ago—what had happened to her recently to make her so sorrowful?

She pushed her hair out of her eyes and stared straight at me. At that moment, something sparked inside of me. She didn't belong here. She clearly had lived a luxurious and carefree life up until recently. It didn't matter to me what went wrong, and normally I wouldn't even care that she was in such an unfortunate state. But when she looked at me, I saw something else that I hadn't seen earlier: kindness. Yes, even though she had lived in luxury and had recently suffered, the subtle warmth in her eyes hadn't been extinguished.

For her sake, I wanted her not to lose that light. It felt so unlike me to reach out and protect another human being, and yet when I saw that light, something changed. I ran over to the dining room table and took a chair, then brought it over to her and pointed at it.

She apparently understood, for she said in a small voice, "Oh, no, I… You don't have to give me special treatment because of who I am." She watched me with curiosity as I pointed at her, shrugged, and then shook my head. "Wait… you don't know who I am?" she asked. I shook my head earnestly. "I'm Lara, the princess who is second-in-line to throne, next to my elder sister."

At that, I finally understood why the name had sounded familiar. I hadn't heard much about her, but I had heard her name used before. Then I connected two thoughts: she must have been the valuable hostage that my master had mentioned earlier—the king would do plenty to get his beloved daughter back. For a moment I wondered why my master would make her a servant, and then I answered my own question: he wanted to the king to feel completely at his mercy. By showing that he wasn't afraid to make the princess miserable and weak, he was accomplishing just that.

I shrugged passively. It wasn't important to me that she was a princess—she was still a type of person I had never seen before. That was the reason I was going to treat her well, rather than her status. So I pointed again to the chair. She began to look confused. "I don't know what your master said, but it's okay to talk to me, you know?" She smiled warmly, and something stirred inside of me that I couldn't identify. I looked down and shook my head. Her look changed to concern. "No, really, I—" she began, but I held up a hand to stop her. I put a finger on my throat and then drew an x.

Her eyes went wide as she realized what I was telling her. "Oh! I… I'm so sorry, I didn't know you were—" she stuttered, but I held up my hand again to stop her. I shook my head and smiled weakly, trying to tell her that I didn't really mind it. The muscles around my mouth felt sore, for they hadn't been used often for any purpose. "Well…" she said slowly, "would you prefer it if I didn't speak, too?"

Now that level of kindness just seemed absurd to me, and this time I smiled for real just because of how ridiculous it sounded. I shook my head and motioned for her to go ahead. I didn't mind if she spoke as long as she didn't expect me to keep up an animated conversation.

"Well, in any case, please don't treat me any better than you would anyone else," she said. She walked over and picked up a cloth and started scrubbing the end of the table that hadn't been cleaned. "Just let me work alongside you, okay?" she petitioned.

I wasn't sure what to make of this, so I simply nodded, and we finished cleaning the table in silence. I had to admit that having her around wasn't so bad. She didn't act dramatic about my condition and treated me relatively well. And despite her previous status, she acted like a humble servant. Had she always been like this? After we had finished, my master dismissed us to the servants' bedroom. I took my place in the corner, and Lara took a place near me. She whispered "good night" to me, and I nodded in response, soon fading into blissful obscurity.

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End Of Chapter Notes: (From now on I'll refer to the pre-chapter notes as PC and the end chapter notes as EC) Okay! It's never directly stated, but if you haven't figured it out or didn't read the summary... Or just your guess to be affirmed: yes, Chane's condition is that he's mute. I just didn't want to state this outright so it would feel kind of like you were walking in on the middle of Chane's story. He wouldn't really say "I'm mute" randomly, since it was a part of his life and chances are he wouldn't just spontaneously point it out.

Oh, and, I wasn't aiming for a "it was love at first sight" kind of thing. Think of it more like this: Chane is only used to two kinds of people: his fellow, broken and despairing servants, and his malevolent master. So when I said "and something stirred inside me that I couldn't identify," I meant that he felt the unfamiliar feeling of warmth that comes from someone being kind to you.

Also, I wasn't too fond of the end of this chapter, because I like things to go out with a bang. In other stories I've written, I generally like to expose something that'll make the writer gasp and want more, or at least close the chapter dramatically. But this chapter was truly just setting the stage for the rest, so I hope you at least were kind of interested. D:

I'll try to update as soon as possible. Also, the next chapter will take place three months after this took place! How much will things have changed since Lara's arrival? Hopefully you'll stay with me through this and find out! 8D

PC: Hey everyone, it's me! I know you might be surprised that I took a break from Outspoken Silence, but I thought I might share this with you guys. My literature teacher assigned us to write about our "happy place"-the ideal area you wish you were, that place you go to to escape stress, etc... Honestly I don't "escape" there, but it would be a damn nice setting! The catch is we're supposed to describe it all in figures of speech, without saying actually what any of it is. One thing in here I added which I refused to add in the actual academic piece itself is there, because it was a bit personal... Anyway, see if you can figure out where I am! Hope you enjoy!

The burdens of life begin to overwhelm. I need escape, so I close my eyes. When I open them again, I revel in paradise. My back rests against a solid, splintery guard. It stands tall and spreads its countless green threads around itself, creating a green hat that the sentinel wears. It lets out a perfume that causes me to remember pancakes and maple syrup. From the cap falls a protective, dark veil; unyielding, uncompromising, and most importantly, it is loving. Inside its embrace, I am protected; surrounded by a shield that hides me from the harsh assault of the bright orb beyond my reach. The guard not only protects me from it, but absorbs the luminosity and claims it as its own, and from it creates a new form of energy to supply me the ability to breathe.

My hand drops and hit soft, velvety soldiers. Protruding from their fertile, nurturing, and firm home, they wear the same color as their green-topped superior. Each has four rotund arms, stemming from their head. Each limb has its own power and its own means by which it can protect me: hope, faith, love, and luck. Through all battles against odds they, these unique fighters from lands both far and near, come together to form this one coalition, where I am their king and they are my loyal subjects.

My other hand drops and brushes against another warm, welcoming hand. I slowly look to my side and fall eternally in her eyes, as they are without depth. I throw my arms around her and she throws hers around me, and we pull close together and share the moment, giving silent thanks for each other's presence.

Our shield is impenetrable save for what means no harm—that being a messenger that sprints to the north in gentle stealth. It nudges my hair to one side and works its way through my ears, trying to whisper its secrets. It also delivers the chosen words to the members of the green army, causing them to lean towards me. The next moment, it leaves, continuing on its journey to enlighten others of the wonders it wishes to share.

I raise my head and stare out across the painting I had assumed was adverse, only to find that it is just as hospitable as the nation inside my dark bubble is protective. Beyond the obscuring wall within which I am housed, the board I sit upon drops slowly in a gentle slope, finally coming to a level playing field some distance away from the apex.

The outer land's denizens are more consistent than my country's own—each is but a flimsy, straight pillar, all of them swaying when the messenger from the south comes to deliver the news it carries. As a supposed attempt at diplomacy, they all are adorned in the same color as my fellow citizens. They all sweat as the fiery, floating orb bombards them with rapid particle movement.

All of the neighboring area's population congregates around its national treasure. The floorboard drops until it is submerged in a mysterious substance. The substance springs from depths of about three average-heighted human and dominates an area approximate to the length and width of a mansion. It is clear and ripples from time to time, but other than that it is mute and unmoving.

Loitering on its surface floats a family of green discs, each with their own identifying features. Some have pure white cups on them, while others have lost a piece from their whole, equivalent to a slice of pizza. Strangely enough, no voice cries out for these trespassers to be removed.

I glance up and see no end to the canvas. Its spacious expanses of blue are interrupted only by fluffy, snow white dust bunnies. It is championed by the aforementioned glowing orb. It, too, is also more welcoming than I had previously thought. Its qualities are not attacks—they are merely offerings; its bright attitude is a means by which I can see the world's glory, its endless blanket a way for me to stay warm they are a true assurance that I have fallen into a friendly world.

EC: Well, there you have it! For those of you that were wondering, or couldn't figure out what it was, the place I described was... a massive tree with a lot of leaves at its top. Surrounding me was a patch of four-leaved clovers (their petals mean hope, faith, love, and luck)-which is actually symbolic of the next part: I was sharing this landscape with my girlfriend (hey, it's not my favorite place unless I get to share it with my favorite person!)-clovers mean a lot in our relationship. Beyond the shade of the tree a hill fell, giving way to a field of dewy grass. In the middle was a clear lake, with lily pads on it. The "messenger" was the wind, the orb was the sun, the blue stuff was a clear sky with clouds.

... It's not as beautiful when I just say it outright, huh? This experience may have been for academics, but it taught me a lot that I could use for Outspoken Silence! So when I write chapter 9, hopefully I can use my new-found skills with metaphors. See you next time!

PC: Oh, yeah, uh... Still no action here, sorry to disappoint you actiony fans. Anyway, there's not much to say in the pre-chapter notes here, except this: yay, Lara becomes less of a Mary Sue!

Today was a day almost like any other. Lara and I were assigned another mundane task—as most tasks were (though I'd take mundane over dangerous any day. I'll stick with one disability, thank you very much). We were simply polishing our master's various swords in the armory. The amount of steel in there was enough to make a blacksmith shout in joy—my master had said that there were approximately one hundred and forty six swords of different shape, size, sharpness, and hilt. The one thing they all had in common was that they each held an emerald embedded in the hilt—a symbol of both his vast wealth, as well as the nation's color, which also stood for fertility and life. I always thought the concept rather ridiculous—this nation was anything but lively. A long time ago, maybe, but now the symbol was just ironic.

This day was different however, and it was easy to tell just by looking at Lara's blank, disbelieving expression. It had been three months since she first was forced to work under my master. Her hair no longer had neatness or sheen—merely grime and lack of order. She had also cut her hair to ear length as she had acknowledged its practical merits. Her skin was covered in a layer of dirt that would probably never wash off, and she had many cuts about her fingers. What was the largest amount of proof of her servitude was her face—it had become rougher in just about every way describable. Her mouth, by default, was set into a grimace that depicted her resignation to misery. Her face drooped in such a way that proved she had lost much of her bravado. The biggest factor that completed the hopeless look, however, was her eyes. Glazed and unfocused, as though they were straining to see something they no longer could. What surprised me, though, was that the kindness that I had seen when she first arrived was still there.

But was it really kindness? Who could honestly maintain a high level of optimism after all that had happened? Surely not a princess who had been accustomed to luxury and easy-living almost the full distance to adulthood. Yet, that look was surely still there. So it led me to believe that she didn't actually have kindness in her eyes in the first place. She had something I couldn't identify. I wanted to believe that it was hope, but only a fool would maintain hope after what she had just learned, and I respected her enough to not call her a fool.
As I studied her while she polished a scimitar, I noticed how every move was quick, decisive, final, and hateful. I suddenly recalled something that she had said two months ago.

"You know what's the worst thing about being in this place?" Lara asked suddenly. I inclined my head and gestured for her to go on. "Not having anyone close to you to say to or hear 'I love you' from."

I furrowed my brows in intense concentration. "I love you?" What in the world did that mean? I had never heard it used before. Not by my master, not by the guards, not by my fellow servants. So what did it mean? Maybe it was some eccentric phrase that only members of the royal house used.

Lara caught my confused expression and her look quickly turned to one of horror. "You don't know what 'I love you' means?" she questioned slowly. For a second I considered lying, just because of how petrified she was at my lack of knowledge. But no, I thought again—there was no real point in not telling the truth. Thus I shook my head honestly.

Lara closed her eyes and turned her chin to the sky. When she spoke, her tone had adopted a form of fervent passion. "'I love you' is one of the most sacred phrases ever to be uttered." She raised her palm to the sky and closed it into a fist. I rolled my eyes—she was talking nonsense again. For the most part, she had my respect, but sometimes she just seemed to be unintelligent, naïve, and impractical. "Sacred" was a pretty obsolete word in my life. She caught the eye roll, however, and immediately looked affronted. "It's true!" she exclaimed defensively.

I smirked at her and shrugged as though to say "Oh? And what makes you say that?"

"You can look at me like that all you want," she said reproachfully, "but I love you has an almost indescribable meaning." She brought both of her hands to her chest and looked down. "It's when you care for someone so much that it almost transcends words. You want to be with them, you would never forsake them, and you just appreciate their very being. It can take on so many different meanings—for siblings, familial, and even romantic. It's so powerful that humanity attempts to contain these powerful feelings in the simple word 'love.' So one says 'I love you' when one feels that way."

Aha! So it is something only reserved for richer people! I thought. Surely my master must have known the word, but he is a hateful being. It's also entirely impractical. What use would anyone have for such a restricting feeling as that? It would only bring someone down and force them to think about others, rather than themselves. It just seems like an invitation for death.

Lara looked at me expectantly. "Can you think of anyone who you'd feel for like that?" she asked.
It didn't take much thought. The most attachment I'd ever felt for any other human being was mutual survival. Just working together to make sure we see the next day. I pushed back a distant memory of a woman cradling me in her arms—whoever it was obviously didn't care, or they would have found me by now and taken me back. I summarily shook my head, trying not to sneer—I didn't fancy the idea of making Lara angry with me. She was the only companion I had, and she seemed pretty passionate about the subject.

Lara looked down and sighed. There was a moment of silence. "No, I suppose you wouldn't," she finally said.

As I saw her expression so drastically changed, I wondered if she still believed that. Considering that yesterday she had learned that her father had decided not to come after her for the sake of the war. My noble didn't seem too pleased with the news—his hostage had, of course, become nigh useless. But he decided to keep her in servitude all the same. She was no longer a princess, nor did she maintain any image of royalty. She was just merely another servant girl. Honestly, I felt better that way—this way I wouldn't always feel like I had to lower my head when she spoke to me.

All the same, I wanted to tell my master that he should at least let her go—she was no longer a part of this war. But I told myself I was foolish for this—she was essentially just a penniless girl without a family. She was like me, except she could remember losing hers. Where could she go? The master had always left the gate open, telling us that any of us were free to leave if we so chose.

But we knew he was simply mocking us. Without money, a surname, or anyone to go to, he might as well have said "cross that threshold if you wish to die." Once, there had been a servant who had tried this. A few days later, they had found his body in a nearby forest. The eerie thing is that he had been found dead with a contented smile on his face. It was almost as though he favored death over incarceration. Once, I might have agreed with him. Now, it no longer matters. My life is one of oppression, but at least it is a life.
Lara, though, didn't seem to know what to think. I tried to imagine for a moment what it must feel like to know that one of the people that you cared about most would forsake you. But then I realized I couldn't—I didn't know the feeling of being left, and certainly not the feeling of love. But the broken soul was blatantly displayed on her face, and that was the answer.

Parts of me wanted to break the silence and offer her empty words of consolation, but I could not, of course, and those words of consolation would be just as described: empty. They would be nothing but words wasted, words that would possibly make her sink deeper into despair as she realized that I would have had to lie with false words of hope. That would just solidify the hopelessness of the entire situation.
However, she finally broke the ominous and weighty silence that had settled between us. They were not the words I had wanted to hear.

"Maybe you were right, those two months ago," she murmured. I looked at her to show that she had my attention, and then waited for her to continue. At this point she had known me long enough that she had no trouble understanding my arbitrary sign language. "Maybe love is a ridiculous concept. Maybe it…" her voice broke. She looked away and took a few deep breaths. She looked back at me and I saw water on the rims of her eyes. "Maybe it doesn't exist," she said shakily.

I agreed, of course. Love was both impractical and if the definition was to be taken literally, it was impossible to achieve, too. Ultimately, all humans existed to serve themselves above all other things, so where in the world would the concept about caring and living for others come in? Impractical, impossible… inconceivable. I wanted to nod, affirm her discovery. But the look in her eyes prevented me from doing so. So instead, as she hurtled into my arms, I embraced her and just let her sob.

There was no pity. How could I have pity when I never even knew what love was like in the first place? I simply just held her in my arms because that is where she went. I may be devoid of hope, but I am not devoid of humanity. It wouldn't have felt right to just watch her stand there, crying by herself. Half an hour later, I gently eased her out of my arms and pointed at the swords—if we spent much more time dawdling, we would end up completing our task late. She nodded her head and went back to it polishing the scimitar. I wasn't entirely sure what she had murmured, but it sounded strangely close to "thank you."

When we returned to the servant's quarters, she pulled her covers over herself and whispered to me. "I agree with you completely, now, Chane." Her voice was harsh and emotionless. "There was never such a thing. What a ridiculous idea. My father didn't love me, he just had me, and that was as far as things went."

Oh, Lara, if only you had realized this the moment you were born. If only you hadn't bought into their lies. Then you wouldn't be in so much pain now.

That night I fell asleep to the rhythm of her quiet, pathetic sobs.

EC: Hoo, boy! Man, that Chane's a douche, huh? I know that's bad of me to say about my main character, but it's true. I mean like Lara was saying "oh my God no one loves me anymore" and then he's like "ok cool now get back to work before we get attacked." To be fair he let her cry for half an hour... but still, how would you feel if you learned your parents left you? D:

Secondly, the thing that I was really pleased about in this chapter was the flashback scene. I'm not trying to pat myself on the back here, but I was just happy that I managed to show that Chane was so devoid of love that he /doesn't know what love is/.

Last of all, there will be some... kind of sort of semblance of action in the next chapter. Sort of. Kind of. SHUT UP YOU'LL SEE NEXT CHAPTER BYE ;A;

PC: You know how they say what doesn't kill us only makes us stronger? Yep, that'll be put to the test here. I'll leave you to figure out what that means as you read along.

I woke up about half an hour earlier than normal to Lara shaking me violently. She looked completely changed—compared to her empty look yesterday, she looked about as happy as she had ever been. Somehow, this sudden change in emotion put me in a state of alarm.

"Chane! Chane! Guess what!" she whispered excitedly. I stared at her with a confused look, my eyes asking my question for me. "I found something!" She pulled her hands out from behind her back and showed me some sheets of paper in one hand, and a quill and bottle of ink in the other.

My eyes widened and I felt an empty pit where my stomach should have been. She obviously hadn't been hiding something like that for three months, only to show me now. That left one alternative: she had stolen these supplies from my master's study. But why?

She saw that I still looked baffled, so she said, "I got this for you! You can write, right?" she asked. I slowly nodded, not entirely in control of my body due to shock. Truth was, I learned how to write when I was younger because I once had to be my master's scribe when he broke his writing hand for a year. Why he chose me for that job was unclear, but I suspected it had something to do with his cruel nature—he wanted to give me the ability to communicate through words, but only his thoughts. Not my own.

She handed (or more like thrust) the supplies to me and looked at me expectantly. I wasn't sure what exactly to say because my mind was still buzzing with questions. So I took the sheet of paper and tentatively wrote down six words.

Why did you give me these?

She looked at me as though I had struck her. "I wanted to give you the chance to talk. Isn't that obvious?" she asked. No, no it isn't. And that didn't really answer my question, I thought. "I mean, what with my father no longer being my father, I want someone else I know I can talk to," she finished, eyes half closed.

That's when I understood. She didn't entirely value what I had to say—she was treating me like a cloth to alleviate the pain of her wound. For a split second I had thought that she had done this simply to give me the chance to speak. But no one else did, so why should she? Besides, I couldn't really blame her for what she did. She would feel pretty empty realizing that no one in the world cared for her. She would need someone to bounce her words off of, and perhaps for once she needed me to speak back. I shrugged in resignation—I didn't really care that I was really just being used as an escape from her pain. She was still my companion, and for the sake of efficiency I had to take care of her.

"I mean, I know we can't let any of the other servants know that we have this," she whispered. "But wouldn't it be nice to be able to have a voice?" she asked dreamily, her eyes looking at something far away.

Yet again she obviously wasn't speaking about me. Her incarceration and servitude had robbed her of her ability to speak out. And now that there was no one to hear her, she needed me to fill that hole. I shrugged and did a minor reassessment of her character—maybe she really was just another selfish being.

Behind her, a little boy named Brendon tossed around in the covers and began to moan. He was likely having another bad dream.

"So, Chane, I was thinking…" At once I began to get a sinking feeling. The way she threw her voice to the dangerous look in my eyes was warning me that she was about to do something foolish. She smiled deviously. "What if we just left, together? Through the gate? I mean, the master does keep it open."

At this, Brendon shot up and mumbled, "You can't do that, Miss. Gate's… dan…gero…." At that, he fell down, and his breathing became steady again. It was no wonder that words like hers would reach him through his dreams—the boy who had tried to leave was allegedly his brother.

He's right, I wrote. I then explained the story about the escapee and how he had perished in the forest. I even mentioned how he looked at the end, just to give her the full picture of the story. Unfortunately, I should have left that part in particular out of the picture. Her eyes lit up and she said "Well, doesn't that tell you something? That boy was happy to die rather than be stuck here."

Or he was insane, I scrawled onto the paper.

"Chane!" she exclaimed. "He wanted to be free! That boy was ready to die because it meant he wouldn't be in this prison," she said, nearly spitting out the last word.

It would be suicide. Don't go, I wrote warningly.

She frowned at me, then her eyes closed and her face took on a strange, unreadable expression. When she spoke, her voice was soft, yet strained. "Chane. I thought you would understand me. After these three months, I thought we were friends. And friends stick together, right? So we'd be okay if we went together…" she trailed off, her voice close to breaking.

Yes, maybe friends would stick together. But when did she get the notion that we were anything more than companions? We were just two beings that were working together for mutual survival. But apparently she thought more of our link than that. I couldn't let her get emotionally attached to me. I had lived my life alone, and that's how it was best to stay. If her opinion didn't change, then I'd just have to break it off with her.

I scrawled, I'm sorry that I gave you that idea.

Her look turned to one of pure apprehension and fear. She seemed to instinctively move away from me, and then in a small voice she asked "Chane..? What idea..?"

I slowly wrote the words that hurt to write. That we were friends.

Lara looked at me and her eyes took on an emotion that I truly didn't expect: sadness. She drew in a shuddering breath and raised her finger, eyes frowning, almost as though to say something. But then she slowly closed her mouth, and walked away. Yet, just as she was almost out of earshot, she whispered, "Sorry, Chane. I wish I hadn't given that paper to you. I hadn't realized you were that cruel, I hadn't realized that I meant nothing to you, and I hadn't realized that you deserved to be mute!" At that point I saw some tears fall to the floor, just as she exited the door.

I felt confused, annoyed, and… hurt? Was I actually wounded by what she had told me? But no, that would mean I would have to care about what she said in the first place. Thus, I was just wrongly identifying the emotion I felt. Why was I feeling any emotions, anyway? That girl doesn't matter to me as anything more than a tool lost. Now I couldn't have her as a device to help me survive this hellhole.

And why the hell did she look sad? Why would she care about not having a friend that was apparently too unkind to even be deserving of her friendship? That girl is so confusing and foolish! Whatever gave her the notion that we were friends? What? It made absolutely no sense. All I did for her was give stick with her through these months. Why am I angry? Why so many questions?

At this I punched myself in the arm and told myself to calm down. I took a few deep breaths, and I was back to normal again. My thoughts became rational. It was true: the loss of my companion was unfortunate. It may have been more logical to let her just believe I thought the same thing of our relationship. I could just shrug off any worry she had for me. It didn't matter if she cared, so long as it aided me.

Sadly, the damage was done. For the next few days, she wouldn't say a word to me. She merely just worked beside me, silently making it clear that she was still angry with me. And every night, I saw her come back with something new: A knife, some pieces of gold, various foods, and some clothes.

And then one day, as I walked down the halls, I heard some screaming. It sounded like Lara. Spurred by curiosity, I sprinted over to where I found her. It was a place I had never expected she would stand at: the whipping post. Her wrists and ankles were tightly bound by ropes to the point where she no longer had going to her hands and feet. Her head rested on the post, hair falling down around her and concealing her face. She had the upper part of her clothes stripped off so her bare back showed. Perhaps as an act of retaining dignity, she pressed the front of her upper body to the post so that nothing would show.

"So…" my master began, walking around her. "One of my guards told me that they spotted you stealing." He laughed a harsh, dry laugh. "I didn't have any proof, and I am a fair man, so of course I wouldn't punish you without it."

"Hah!" Lara laughed humorlessly. She had lifted up her head and sneered at him.

"Quiet," he snapped, punching her across the cheek. She said nothing more, and rested her head back on the whipping post.

"Now, to think I caught you in my room! And you were desecrating it!" he yelled, pointing a finger at her. Then he went right next to her ears and whispered, "You don't realize, Lara, that you have no value now. Your daddy doesn't love you, so you're no longer royal. I could kill you if I wanted to." But then he shrugged and laughed airily. "But since this is your first offense, I will be lenient this time." His lips twisted into a distorted shape that I think was supposed to be a smile. "Twenty lashes. And as you have struck directly against me, so too shall I directly against you."

The guard nearby handed him the whip. "Are you ready?" my master asked. "Oh wait, that doesn't matter! Let's begin!" As soon as the word "begin" escaped his lips, the crack of the first whip echoed, slamming directly into her back. She screamed an almost inhuman scream—one that bordered on feral.

Crack. Crack. Crack.

Four lashes in and her skin was already ripped open. Blood began to flow down until it her entire back gleamed red. What was going to happen to her? She had become more durable thanks to servitude, but she still wasn't strong. Her screams were getting weaker.

Crack. Crack.

She was only moaning at that point. She was just begging for him to make it stop, and with every blow, her entreaty became weaker and weaker. At this point I wasn't even sure if she was going to survive this.

Crack. Crack. Crack.

Nine lashes. She no longer screamed, she no longer begged. There was so much blood loss that her skin had become pale. I began to feel something I had never felt—worry for another. But why should it matter to me that she's getting attacked? She was just a companion, and she wasn't that useful if all she was going to do was subvert my master's regime and get herself whipped.

Chane, she is going to die. Do something! Now! a voice in my head urged. I took a deep breath and ran in, just as the whip fell down.

Crack.

Ten lashes.

At once a searing pain erupted through my entire being. It felt as though lava had been poured all over my back. My shirt had split open and I saw some red drops spout over to the front. My blood…

I waited for the next blow, but none came. From behind me I heard my master say, "Well, Chane, I have to admit I'm surprised. I never expected you to be protective." He walked over and faced me. "Do you intend to take the remaining lashes for this girl?"

Slowly, without entirely knowing what I was doing, and every single fiber of my being screaming at me to shake my head, I nodded.

He shrugged. "I have no objections. But, if someone stronger is going to take the lashes, then someone strong should give it, no?" He tossed the whip over to the guard. Apparently, he intended for that man to carry out the remaining ten. I took off my shirt and instead of throwing it to the side I pressed it to Lara's back in order to slow the bleeding process. She probably would have only survived one or two more lashes before the bleeding would have been too much control. She seemed to be unconscious, so that was lucky for her.

Suddenly, I felt the whip slam against me, as though a claw had dug straight into my flesh and tried to dig out as much of my body as it could. The pain was excruciating—and I began to wonder why I had decided to take the whipping. She was only a former companion—and what good was mutual survival if I wouldn't survive?

As I felt the bloodthirsty twelfth lash and another wave of indescribable pain, I felt Lara breathe taking a deep breath. At that point I realized that it wasn't just about her at this point. I was already there, and for the both of us, I was going to maintain my dignity. So I looked up and affixed my master with a baleful glare. He simply smiled as the whip was brought down again and again. But his look slowly turned to one of irritation.

"Why won't you at least beg me in your quiet way? Stop staring at me with defiance!" he commanded. "If you beg, I may stop at nineteen."

Crack. Crack. Crack. Crack.

I was up to eighteen, and my vision was starting to fade. The whip felt more like a distant soreness than the unforgiving pain that I had experienced earlier. I was soon going to fall unconscious, but out of perseverance I decided to keep staring at him, not showing him a moment of weakness.

Crack. Crack.

Just like that, it was over. Twenty lashes—nine bore by Lara and eleven endured by me. I no longer felt pain. I had felt so much that I could simply no longer feel, for the moment. Then, Lara lifted her head. "Chane..?" she whispered.

"Ah, good, so you're both conscious," my master said. He came face to face with Lara. He spoke in a low, venomous voice. "This is your first transgression, and it had better be your last. If you so much as lift a finger against me, ever, you will not live to make another." At this, Lara had apparently lost the will to stay conscious, and her head fell. He looked over at me. "And I saw that defiance, Chane. You will die, too. Don't forget that it was I who so graciously took you in."

I simply nodded, too exhausted to protest. I picked up Lara and brought her over to the servants' quarters. The other servants looked curiously at us, how blood stained our shirts, but they were too terrified to say anything. I lay her down gently by her covers and then I laid down on my own. Finally, when dignity and pride was no longer the point of the matter, I let the pain overtake me and allowed myself to sink into darkness.

EC: So Chane can have kindness in his heart as well! Or, well, whatever compells Chane to take that whip. He's stubborn, bad with emotions, and blunt. But at least he's a trooper that takes a whipping with pride.

I think it's safest to say that Lara is suffering depression-or going through a grieving process. I mean, she's a lot more daring and dangerous. That will all come to a head in the next chapter. Action fans, there really /will/ be action in the next chapter. I PROMISE. 8D

PC: Hoo boy, things will come to a head in this chapter. The story isn't near over yet, but... well, you'll see. There's action here, finally.

Once again, I was awoken slightly early. My vision was half-obscured by sleep, my mind was slow, and my body was extremely sore from the whipping, but I could definitely make out the sounds of feet shuffling and paper rustling. Still a bit dizzy from having just woken up, all I could do was wonder who was causing the sounds. That didn't take long, for the paper dropped right in front of me and then I saw Lara get up and quickly shuffle out of the room. The way she so abruptly left shocked me into full wakefulness, and I snatched the paper and began to read.

Chane,

I'm sorry for what happened a few days ago. I shouldn't have said all those things. To say that you deserved to be mute was completely uncalled for. It just really hurt me when you said we weren't friends. But I began to regret it as the days went on—maybe that's just how you live, keeping everyone at arm's length.

Or so I thought. Chane, I was never completely unconscious yesterday. The whipping felt like claws raking across my flesh, and it still hurts as I write this, but I know what you did. You alleviated the pain of my wounds, you looked our master defiantly in the eye, and most importantly… you took the remaining eleven lashes for me. I wouldn't have survived—I know that. So you… you saved my life. I think this proves that you have kindness in your heart. No, I don't just think. I know. You truly have a kind heart.

I paused and scowled. I was only doing what was logical, nothing more, and yet she wanted to bring the idea of kindness and caring into this? I didn't think I would ever understand her. I read on.

But more than that I want to thank you. Thank you for saving my life. Thank you for not leaving me completely lonely over the last three months. Thank you for everything, Chane. You may not consider me a friend, but I considered you one of the best friends I've ever had.

Warmth went through my stomach. I couldn't identify the feeling, so I decided to just believe I felt embarrassed in the face of such high praise. But something about her phrasing had bothered me. Didn't she write "had"?

I'm going to leave through the gate. I may be gone by the time you leave, and in that case I just want to let you know that the paper, ink, and quill are under my cloth. You have a voice. Even if you can't speak it, you can write it. Find some way to express yourself, okay? I bet there's a lot to say after nothing's been said. Nonetheless, this will likely be the last time you hear from me. Goodbye, Chane. I'll always remember you.

Lara

At that moment, a jolt of alarm surged through me. Lara was leaving! No, she can't! I need her!

… Wait, did I just say "I need her"? Nonsense! I don't need anyone! I've always only needed myself. That's how it was, that's how it is, and that's how it always will be.

You know you took that lashing because you grew to care about her, a voice inside my head whispered.

I weakly tried to shake the thought away. I wouldn't need anyone. It wouldn't make any sense for me to need her. I have survived this long by myself. Yes… let's be reasonable. I have had food, water, and a place to live for as long as I can remember. Those are the only essentials, so why should I need her?

Because she's important to you, the persistent voice said.

She's not important, though… She's just another companion for mutual survival. Not anymore, though. I can survive on my own, can't I?

If you have to ask the question, then the answer is no.

I need to stop thinking… What should I do? It would make the most sense to do nothing and yet… Yes, that's right, I owe her. She gave me this parchment, ink, and quill. I must make sure that she at least gets out safely.

Just as I was about to get up and go look for Lara, I heard a voice yell, "The princess is trying to escape! Servants and guards take up arms and make sure she doesn't leave!"

I began to experience a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. That would mean that my master had noticed that she was about to go. But wait, why should that matter? He always had left the gate open to us and had challenged any of us to leave and face the treacherous forest that was ahead.

And then I jumped as I realized that this was my perfect opportunity. I could get rid of this confusion for good. I could… could I kill her? Would I really kill her? I shook my head and chastised myself—now wasn't the time to be asking that question. My master had assigned a mission, and it was my duty to carry that out.

I was the first one out of the room as all of the servants behind me drowsily rose up to the call to action. I grabbed the weapon I was most skilled with—the longbow, along with a quiver full of roughly thirty arrows, and then I rushed to the outside of the outer yard of the castle. What lay before me was a scene that I would not soon forget.

Two guards were holding Lara, who was kicking and shouting, but they had much too firm a grip on her for her to stand any chance of breaking free. My master wore a mixed look of anger and twisted triumph. He walked straight up to her and bent down a little bit so that the two of them were at eye level, and then he spoke.

"Little girl," he breathed in a dangerously low voice, "that offer is open to everyone but you. I can't let you go back to your father."

"I would never go back to him," she screamed. Tears began to form on the rims of her eyes. "He has proved he doesn't care about me!"

My master laughed humorlessly. "I admire how realistically you act, but you won't fool me." As she opened her mouth to speak again, he slapped her. A strong urge of anger welled up in my chest, and I took a step forward. My master turned around and his eyes widened in surprise, and then his face twisted into a smile. "Ah, look! It's your loved one!" I wanted to object to this, but I realized that now was not the time. He looked back at Lara. "This is your second transgression. You know what this means. And I know just the person to do it." He turned to me and said flatly, "Do it."

It took a moment for me to process what he said, but then I connected the thoughts. He expected me to be the one to kill her. I had said that I would have to worry about that moment when it came, and now here it was. I broke into a cold sweat, and suddenly my body began to shake uncontrollably. Almost automatically, I nocked my bowstring, raised my bow, took a deep breath, and exhaled while drawing in the arrow.

There the moment was. Right down the point of my arrow, about ten yards away, was Lara. If I released that bow, it would plunge through her heart. The job would be over, and I would go back to the life that I had before.

But then I saw the look in her eyes. It wasn't betrayal. It wasn't anger. It was sadness. Somehow, her expression said more than her words ever could.

What if I really did need her? She gave me something that I didn't really have before: meaning. There was a meaning to living, and that was protecting and helping her. In a way, I needed her because she needed me. But it was more than just meaning. It was…

You have a voice. Even if you can't speak it, you can write it. Find some way to express yourself, okay? I bet there's a lot to say after nothing's been said.

Yes, she was the only one to seek out a way to give me a way to communicate. No one else had ever truly valued what I had had to say. She was the only one to ever show me warmth. Was I truly going to repay this one girl who had made my life feel more than just an empty existence… by ending her life?

It would rid the complication of having someone. My life would return to normal, and I would never have to ask questions like these again. But as I saw her death in my hands, I began to realizing something that I had been denying. I didn't want to go back to the life I had before. It was by no means a sad existence. But it was not happy. It was not angry, interesting, or even lifelike. I was just an apathetic puppet being manipulated by my master. And now that I had gotten a taste of what being alive was truly like…

"What are you waiting for!" my master yelled, pulling me out of my reflection. "Kill!"

Glad to, I thought. In one swift motion I arced my bow 180 vertical degrees and released my arrow. It flew for about half a second before it hit its target. I never missed, and this was no exception. My master fell to the ground. Dead. A pool of blood spread out around him, but I wasted no time watching.

When I killed him, all chaos broke loose. Most of the servants had made it to the yard, and as they saw what lay before them, they had the opportunity they were waiting for all of their life. So they all took their weapons and began fighting the guards. I took out two more arrows and slew the guards holding Lara, and she just stood there, dumbfounded. I ran and grabbed her hand, pulling her along.

As we ran towards the gate, Lara finally regained the ability to speak. "Chane, why did you..?"

I put a finger on my lips and pointed to the forest, indicating that I would talk to her about it when we reached it. She nodded and we kept sprinting and sprinting. I took one last look at the place I had lived in for so long, and felt a pang of sympathy as I counted the bodies of four guards and ten servants strewn around the yard. They had all died because of my impulsive choice. But then I shook off these thoughts and we went into the trees, and the castle disappeared from my sight.

EC: Chane has a heart, what a shocker! But, for sure, the order and assurance of a tomorrow is gone for him. Killing a key player in the civil war won't bode well for him...

Also, has anyone noticed that pretty much everyone in my story so far can be a jerk? Chane is Chane (enough said), Lara said Chane deserved to be mute, Chane's master is Chane's master (again, enough said), the king forsook his daughter... etc etc. So yeah. Of course, Chane and Lara aren't completely base, but it seems no one is inclined to always be nice, here.

The next chapter won't be quite as exciting, I admit. But it reveals a couple of things...

PC: Well, it's sort of a bridge chapter but there are a few important things here.

I panted furiously as we went deeper into the forest. After having run for about five minutes, Lara and I both decided to rest. Lara and I both dropped heavily onto a pair of rotted tree stumps. My muscles ached from the running, beads of sweat fell from my forehead, and my skin cried out in protest from being stretched so often one day after a whipping. While Lara stared blankly at the ground (supposedly collecting her thoughts) I tentatively scanned the area and pricked my ears for any hint of movement. After hearing nothing for ten seconds, I dropped my guard and lowered my head.

Lara and I sat in silence for a few minutes, each of us regaining his or her own breath. As the adrenaline seeped out of me, the fog that clouded my thoughts cleared. Before I could process my next course of action, Lara spoke to me.

"Chane…" she murmured. She frowned and shook her head. She seemed to be unsure of what to say. "What happened? Why did you change your mind?"

I concluded that I didn't need to write anything for this and instead let my puzzled expression ask my question for me.

"You…" she paused and struggled for the right words. "You seemed to want to stay there."

I shook my head and fished my writing tools out of my pocket. I uncapped my ink bottle and dipped the quill tip in it while laying some paper flat across the tree trunk. I scrawled, I wanted security. Living with my master would guarantee little to no surprises.

Lara stared at me with a strange expression. "You know, it probably would have been easier just for you to kill me," she said a bit too lightly.

I shrugged. True, it would have been easier to just kill her. But a part of me had revolted against the thought. It overrode my senses, and for the brief moment that I had changed targets and released, I had acted purely on instinct. And to me, it made some semblance of logic that, if I had to have my first kill today, shouldn't it but the life of someone I…

Hate? No. In order to know hatred, I had to know love. I didn't ever "hate" my master, so much as I valued his life less than I did that of Lara's. Whatever the case, the deed was done, and now I had to choose a course of action.

I thought for a moment, and then I realized our most pressing issue: we lacked proper supplies. Indeed, Lara and I only brought enough food for about three days. That was almost certain suicide considering we didn't know how treacherous or lengthy this forest was. And currently I only knew of one place that had a steady supply of food.

We have to go back to the master's house, I scrawled.

Lara looked at me with a confused expression, but then she, too, understood our predicament. I could tell by her horrified look that we were thinking the same thing: there was a chance that there were still people there, and we might get caught by them. I nodded in understanding, and then began heading back, with her following behind hesitantly. We both knew that it was the only logical option.

We were in no rush to get back, so it took only twenty minutes to walk back. Thankfully, luck was on our side, as when we reached the entrance, we saw no guards. We covertly slipped through the entrance for the risk that someone was hiding.

And that's when we saw the results of what I had caused. Lara gasped in horror, and even I couldn't look with indifference.

Dead bodies were strewn across the courtyard, pools of blood flowing out from nearly everyone's body, mixing different shades of red to form a crimson lake. I saw the faces of the familiar—faces of the servants who had shared quarters with us. Some had terror permanently etched onto their expressions, while others simply looked surprised. A few had arrows protruding from their backs, while most had stab wounds in vital areas.

Then I came to my master. His face still held the look of utter disbelief that he wore when I shot him, but three things had changed: first of all, he was face up, which didn't seem too strange as perhaps one of the guards had checked for a pulse. Strangely, though, at least half the guards were dead around him. But the strangest thing was that he now had many stab wounds, spanning across everything but his face. There was no rationale behind it, as my master had most certainly been killed by that arrow.

That's when I noticed that one person was still alive. Curled up in the fetal position, by the corner, was none other than Brendon. All I could see in his eyes were red blood vessels and his irises—his pupils were so shrunken that I couldn't see them. He was rocking back and forth, mumbling incoherent phrases such as "you shouldn't go" and "made me do it." By his feet laid a knife whose silver steel was completely hidden by blood.

"Brendon..?" Lara asked tentatively.

His head snapped up to face us, pupils dilating to be visible. His feral gaze locked on us, but it was clear that he saw us as only one thing: predators.

"More! There's more!" he screamed hoarsely. He began walking towards us, picking up the knife on his way. "Stay… away! "Kill! Kill kill kill all of you! Go away!"

On his last word he charged at me with a primal roar, knife flailing. Immediately switching to instincts, I dodged slash after slash. My hand shot out and hit the area right below his hands, making his fingers open and drop the knife.

For a brief moment I considered grabbing the knife and killing him, but I promptly backpedalled, chiding myself for so quickly considering that option. Instead, I grabbed him and forced him to look at me. Just as I had hoped, the madness left his eyes.

"Chane…" Brendon croaked. I nodded. For a moment he was immobile, but then he burst into tears. "They… made me…" He could barely speak, so instead I pointed to the guards surrounding my master. He bowed his head, confirming my suspicions: he had killed them. "A-and master… I kept poking at him, but he wouldn't wake up… Now I have nothing…"

I frowned, and then realized that "poking" must have meant stabbing, considering his generous collection of wounds.

"Who… did this?" A desperate need occupied his eyes.

Truth was, of course, that I caused this. But it seemed as though he showed up after I had shot my master, so he must have missed it. If I told him that it was my fault, he would very likely attack me again.

Before I could answer, Lara spoke. "It was Lord Emerald. He ordered this." I froze—Emerald was the name of the leader of the resistance against the king. "He believed that his subordinate was going to betray him, so he ordered his death."

Brendon's eyes went wide, as though achieving some revelation. Without words, he nodded, grabbed his knife, and sprinted off.

I turned to Lara, surprised. As emotional as she was sometimes, I had never seen her lie. She shrugged and closed her eyes. "The child couldn't have been more than 13. Having your life taken away from you at that age," she said slowly," is enough pain to bear. Better to teach them a lie rather than have them slip forever past the threshold of insanity. I'm sure he'd rather have someone to whom he had no ties become an enemy, rather than someone he knew."

I nodded in ascent. At the very least, she had made sure that we wouldn't see him again.

We both made our way into the supply room, gathering as much food as our bags could carry. Just as we were about to leave the building, I realized we could use a couple more things. Going into the master's study, I grabbed a map, which included Sare Forest. It seemed the quickest way to get through was to head northwest. Right before I left the room, I grabbed the nearest sword: a multi-tipped blade whose name I did not know, but I chose it all the same as it seemed lethal.

When Lara saw me, she nodded in agreement at my choice, and then we set off.

EC: Bloodbloodblood. That's the word of the chapter, it seems. Anyway, so Lara lied, and that shows that she's changed a little. She's not as idealistic, and yet that made her a bit more understanding of Brendon's feelings. Also, Chane's got skills! I wish I could do what he did there. Next chapter… Oh Lord the next chapter. You'll see. 8D

PC: Nothing to say here this time, just hope you enjoy~

With the assistance of the map and careful navigation, we traversed our way through the forest in about two and half days. Lara hadn't said much, but there really wasn't much to say, so we ended up traveling in silence. We still had a fair amount of supplies, we weren't too exhausted, and other than the whipping we had received, we had no injuries. Every aspect of the situation was looking good, except for one part.

What were we going to do now that we were beyond the forest?

Before I could write that question, she asked for the map, so I gave it to her. Her eyes lit up in recognition, and she waved me over.

"Look… the capital is close by," she said. I tipped my head in question, my expression one of skepticism. Shouldn't the capital be the last place we'd be heading? Considering that she now hates her father? She nodded in understanding. "I know I more or less said that I have no family now, but… I want to hear the explanation from father, himself. I want to know why he forsook me."

I was relatively glad that I couldn't speak, for I would have told her just how foolish that was. It certainly wasn't a good reason to approach her father, as no matter what the reason, it was very likely that she wouldn't be pleased with the answer. Worse still, he could actually just upfront tell her that he left her because the war meant more to him than she meant to him. It would just reopen the wounds that she had tried to close up. It wasn't even worth it.

Suddenly Lara looked away and coughed. She clasped her hands together and began twiddling her thumbs. "You know…" she began hesitantly, "you can go if you want. I mean, you're not obligated to stay with me and…" she suddenly stopped, searching for words. The twiddling of her thumbs began moving at a furious pace. "I'm sorry, I just don't want you to think you're forced, I guess."

Once again she pointed out the painfully obvious. Of course I didn't have to stay with her. I could have just walked away right then and there. But three reasons prevented me from doing so. First of all, I had no direction, finite supplies, and I didn't know anyone—not to mention my disability. I might have been free, but I was still homeless and poor. To leave her would be unwise. Secondly, as a companion to that reason, if I stayed with her and gained the favor of the king after he learned that I had saved her life and brought her back to him, he would likely treat me well, and then I'd be set for a while.

The third reason that I wasn't all too pleased to admit was that for some reason, I felt obligated to take care of her. It was indeed strange, but I felt this assiduous, unrelenting feeling that if I left her, something terrible would happen. It would seem like my work would be undone if I just left her to die. No matter what way I looked at it, staying with her was the best option.

I nodded and placed a hand on her shoulder, then gestured towards the capital. Once she grasped the meaning of what I did, a smile spread across her face that brought an inexplicable warmth flaring in my stomach. "Thank you, Chane…" she whispered sincerely.

It was about a six hour walk to the capital, and at first we traveled, once more, in silence. But then she broke it and offered to tell me a little bit about her family. I nodded my ascent, figuring that it would be a good way to make the time pass by faster. I also assumed that any information she gave me might be useful to keep in mind when I met them.

She told me how the king (whose name was Iosias) was a man of around fifty years, and was very prideful. He brooked no opposition, but at the same time it was because he was caring about his subjects and didn't want unrest getting in the way of his ability to do that. Which was exactly why this civil war had made him, as of recent times: distrustful, bitter, and generally guarded. He was looking for his opportunity to end the war soon so that peace could return, but unfortunately as the days went on the king was gaining more and more adversaries.

Apparently the king once had a wife named Diana. She was always seen as a very somber and quiet woman. As far as Lara knew, she ended up being executed for having an affair with another man (they never found out who it was), but thirteen years before that, she had a child named Elena—Lara's half sister. Understandably, the story was that Diana had been assassinated—which although probably seemed out of place, it was a much preferable explanation than that she had cheated.

Elena was now around thirty years old, and a very venerable and powerful woman. She was a key figure in the civil war on her father's side, as she had taken up secondary command of the king's forces. Unfortunately, despite her genius strategies, they were almost always thwarted—as though the enemy could predict their every move. Elena suspected that there was a spy among the king's closest subjects, but she lacked the proper evidence to prove it.

Lastly, there was the second queen: Athena. The king loved her very much, and she likewise to him, despite their age gap of roughly 10 years. Together, about a year after the death of the first queen, they had Lara. She was a very dreamy, drifty woman. While the king was always a troubled man, she seemed to go about without a care in the world, mollifying the king's worries. They were the perfect couple for each other since they were supposedly opposites.

"Finally here," Lara breathed.

We had reached the capital and when I went in, I was in for quite a shock. There were more people than I had ever seen in my life just from a first glance. Business was happening everywhere, with stalls set up along houses and their accompanying purveyors of supplies, food, and miscellaneous items. I heard incessant chattering coming from every one of them, which soon just settled into an annoying buzz that I learned to tune out. It was giving me sensory overload, so I shut my eyes and began to massage my temples.

"Are you okay..?" Lara asked. Then she gasped. "That's right! You've never been outside the master's house. This must be quite a shock to you. I mean, you've never been to a village before, much less the most crowded city in the nation…" I shook my head and gave her a reassuring look to tell her that I was going to be fine.

We began walking towards the looming castle, not far in the distance. Suddenly I noticed that all was silent, and that all activity had ceased. Everyone had cleared a path for us, and there were hurried, excited whispers. Without warning, a huge cheer erupted from the crowd and battered my eardrums until they throbbed. It seemed that just then, the crowd had realized who had returned to the capital: their second-born princess. Some people were pointing at me and whispering curiously. A voice called out "Hey, Lara! Is this your boyfriend?" In response she tensed up and began to move faster.

Soon enough we reached the castle. Its massive size far exceeded that of my master's. The area in the courtyard was littered with guards, all standing at attention, as though statues ready to come to life if the need arose. We were escorted by a group of guards through the labyrinth of a castle, until finally we reached the throne room.

The floors were a pristine, shining gold. Every ten feet or so, green flags protruded from the walls. At the end of the room, to either side of the two thrones were huge glass windows, with sunlight filtering in that illuminated the area. An opulent, green carpet stretched from the impressive double doors to the two thrones. Everything in this room was almost comically large—it was as though the place was designed for beings three times our size. What made it even more ridiculous and impractical was that it was mostly empty space, and everything was useless decoration. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes—I never understood the rich, and I never intended to try. It would just result in a headache. It was obvious they were just gilding the lily, which, instead of gaining my respect, made me think them petty.

Centered at the end of the room were two golden thrones, each adorned with emeralds. The smaller throne supported a slim woman—my guess was that it was Queen Athena. She was supposedly forty, yet the lack of wrinkles and the untroubled expression etched onto her face seemed to depict a woman closer to her late twenties or early thirties. In almost every way, she looked remarkably like an older Lara.

If logic was to follow, then the man with graying hair sitting next to her was King Iosias. Compared to Queen Athena, he looked like a living corpse—his face was weighed down with worry, his eyes were wrought with sorrow, and his hands seemed permanently clenched. It was hard to believe that this man was once joyful and caring, seeing the sorry state that he was in.

There was actually a third woman standing next to the king. She was tall, lithe, and imposing. She had piercing, gray eyes and light blonde hair. Compared to the two sitting in the throne, she seemed to have the most presence. Considering both the power she emanated and the fact that she stood beside the king, it was likely that she was Princess Elena.

Remembering proper etiquette, I immediately dropped to my knees, bowing my head low to the ground until my nose touched the carpet. I heard simultaneous gasps, and then yelps of pleasure. A thudding of footsteps followed.

"Lara!" King Iosias cried. "Y-you're alive!"

"Alive?" Lara echoed.

"Dear daughter, you disappeared without warning, and there was blood in your room… It was then reported that you were dead…" Queen Athena's silky voice said.

"But that's not how it happened at all!" Lara exclaimed. "I was heading to bed, when suddenly I saw blunt object hit me in the head… Before I knew it, I was whisked away to Lord Luke's house."

"You were there the whole time..?" the king asked. "He never even told me about it! He never did anything!"

I flinched. I remembered hearing on the day that Lara arrived that he had a valuable hostage. But something didn't connect—why was the king never informed of it? What value was a hostage if it wasn't known that they lived? How had my master been intending to use her? Was she not the valuable hostage? There were too many questions, and there were no answers. It was no use pondering the possibilities until I gained evidence that would set me in a certain direction.

"Well, that does prove something," the smooth voice of Elena said. "Now we know for certain that there is a traitor in this castle. And I know exactly who it must be: the man who discovered the body… Our head spy. It makes perfect sense—she went to bed and all within five minutes she disappeared and the body was discovered. It has to be him."

"Elena, Lara just got home… Let's not think about that, for now," King Iosias gently chided.

Elena made an indignant sound, and then she said "Father, I'm sorry, but I cannot rest. This is good news, but there is a war going on. I will go to handle it; you revel in this tender reunion. Good to have you back, sweet sister," she said briskly. I then heard hasty footsteps grow gradually weaker until there was nothing more.

"Oh…" the king said. "Who's this?" Apparently they just noticed that I was here.

"This is Chane, Father," Lara answered. "He saved my life twice, killed Lord Luke and helped me escape his castle, and accompanied me here."

"Is that so…" King Iosias murmured. "Well, then you are more than welcome here. You may rise."

I got up to my feet and saw the king sizing me up with interest.

"From where do you hail?" he asked.

"He's been with Lord Luke ever since he was born. His first servant, as a matter of fact," Lara told him.

The king uttered a weak laugh and said "Lara, I think he can answer for himself."

"Actually, er…" Lara hesitated. I pointed to my throat and then shook my head.

King Iosias' eyes widened. "Ah, so that's how it is?" Suddenly his expression became unreadable. "Lara, why don't you get acquainted with you room again? We removed all from it, so it'd be good if you set up there, again. Athena, please help her."

They both hesitated, and then said "Of course" simultaneously. After they left the room, the king got inches away from my face and affixed me with a glare.

"It would be best for you to listen, and listen carefully." His tone had lost its weak, creaky timbre and was replaced by cold steel and lethal venom. "God damned you from the start, or else you wouldn't be mute. You are an unclean soul, as taught by the church. As a God-fearing man, be glad that I let you live now. The only thing keeping me from executing you for tainting this castle is all that you did for my daughter. But that will only do so much for you."

Gee, if you're always this sunshiny and personable, then it's no surprise that your first wife cheated on you, I thought. I kept my expression emotionless and took refuge in the fact that I couldn't speak, so all I had to do was to wait for him to keep talking.

"Unfortunately for me, by killing Lord Luke you've declared yourself my ally," he said, pinching his brows and closing his eyes.

Wait, what? I have? By what kind of flawed logic do you operate?

"If I were to kill you, it would not only be a disservice to my daughter, but also bad for my side. I don't want others to think I kill my allies," he continued.

Oh, and God forbid that you actually tell them the truth about your cruelty! It's much better to operate by lies. There obviously is no reason that people rebel against you!

"So instead, I have a job for you… Both to make you useful and to get you as far away from this castle as possible."

Don't worry, I want to get as far away from you as possible, too. So it works out for both of us.

"Since you're so well versed in killing…" the king opened his eyes and stared straight at me. "I want you to assassinate Lord Emerald."

EC: Lot to say here, so I'll just go in order of occurrence. First of all, the master is finally named! For those of you who think the names "Luke" and "Iosias" sound familiar, that's because I took them directly from the first story that I posted here (that I removed). 8D

Every girl in this story so far has a name that ends with "a." Why? I don't know why. Maybe because I think that generally names sound prettier when they end with that letter. Shut up don't judge me ;a;

Because I'm sure that someone will point out the whole "why would a princess be with a commoner?" thing, I'll just preempt you here: the separation between classes is much less noticeable. And this isn't directly stated, but Lara's father used to always say that love transcends all boundaries, including class.

For those of you who don't know the term, to "gild the lily" means to make something that's already okay a lot more decorative and such than it needs to be. In Chane's eyes, the throne room only needs two chairs, not all that extravagant adornment.

Lastly, Chane can be quite snarky. I actually really enjoyed writing that part. As for the assassination thing? Well, we'll see what'll happen with that.

PC: And now for one of those frustrating commercial breaks that people hate so much! Well, not really, but we're gonna switch views for a chapter. I hope you enjoy! Maybe I should stop saying that. I guess it's implied—it's not like I'd say "I HOPE YOU HAVE A MISERABLE TIME READING." I think I'm thinking too hard… ANYWAY read on please.

I at once regretted my decision to tell Father that Chane was mute. Well, I guess there was only so much that I could have done, and his condition was unavoidable, but… Father saw all disabled people as a curse. Most people were generally accepting by that point, but Father had become so paranoid ever since the war started that if he was given any reason to distrust someone, no matter how irrational, he would lock himself away from them. It was part of why I had told him all the good things Chane had done for me—to preemptively mollify his anger.

Well, that wasn't the only reason—it was truly the only way to provide background on him. I mean, all I knew (and as far as I was aware: all he knew) was that he used to be a servant to a cruel master, and that he was mute. The only other way I could introduce him was "Hey, here's a guy who saved my life on multiple occasions." And the latter method seemed to be a lot more fruitful.

We reached my room after a servant brought us some clothes, and then we began setting up.

"Lara, are you alright?" my mother asked.

I considered telling her I was fine, but then backpedaled, realizing that no matter what, I could always trust her. "I'm just worried about Chane," I said honestly.

"The mute boy?" she asked. I nodded. "Well, no matter what your father may say to him, he won't do anything." She put a hand on my shoulder and smiled. "Your father's a good man; still, this war has just made him a bit less trustful."

"I suppose…" I muttered. I honestly doubted that my father was going to be all that kind to Chane. Every second that Chane was in this castle, I worried for his safety—because there was no guarantee that, no matter what my father did, he wouldn't do anything to Chane.

"Sooooo," my mother started mischievously, "what do you think of Chane, exactly?"

"Er, what?" I asked.

"I mean, are you fond of him or what?" she asked.

"Mother, please, we don't have time to talk about that at the moment," I said quickly, stalling for time.

"What do you mean? We're putting clothes in your drawers and we had time to speak just a moment ago." She giggled happily. "What's changed since twenty seconds ago?"

I felt the heat rise to my face. I also felt a bit irritated—she might have been roughly forty, but sometimes she could act just like a teenage girl with her gossipy ways.

Just then, one of the maids came in and called for her assistance. I silently thanked the maid as my mother left.

But then I couldn't help but ponder her question. What exactly did I think of him? He was blunt, harsh, and logical almost to a fault. Yet he had made my life of servitude bearably through company, he had saved my life twice, and he had even accompanied me all the way here. Yes, there was logic in that he could gain a good standing with my father, but surely he must have realized by that point that he didn't really have a chance. Did that mean he was going to leave?

Yet, already once, there was an opportunity for him to just walk away. He could have killed me instead of Lord Luke, and yet he didn't. Why?

And what did he think of me? His expression was often level, his movements were guarded, and obviously I had little of what he told me to go off of. A selfish part of me wanted to think that he came this way just to stick with me.

But to what end would that serve him? To what end would that serve me? He probably wasn't thinking nearly this hard on this and just saw me as some "mutual survival partner" or something… But he didn't need me anymore. He escaped.

… But why is it that I felt I still needed him? He was sensible, and he helped me escape. Surely if he hadn't existed I would have descended into insanity. But now that I was here, I could just return to my life here in the palace.

Yet with him, I felt safer… My heart felt warmer, and it was always coupled with a fear with he would leave. But…

Yet, but, yet, but. So many contradictions, so many confusions! I couldn't figure him out. Thankfully though, now I knew something, by my musings.

No matter what happened, I still wanted him around. I don't know what I expected to come of it, but I knew that at the very least, I thought of him as a friend, and a damn good one at that. Even if he didn't think of me the same way. And a part of me insisted that he still did, since he had chosen to kill his master—his security—over me.

… It was too much to think about. I guessed it depended on what happened next. I couldn't sort out what I felt for him until then. Once I finished setting up all of my clothes in the house, I plopped on my plush bed.

I stared at the ceiling and remember all of the things that he had done for me. All of the tenseness of the past few months began to flow out of me. I relaxed, and as I felt my eyes fall, the last thing I could remember was that my lips curled upwards into a smile.

EC: Yeahhhhh! Lara is just as confused as Chane is! Of course, she's right, she's thinking harder about it. I just figured it would be nice to show my audience what she was thinking. I know it wasn't as exciting or length as other chapters, but… consider it an intermission, if you will. Something just to establish a little bit of background. Next chapter, we'll pick up where we left off with Chane and King Iosias.

PC: And bam, back to Chane's point of view!

Assassination? What kind of game was the king playing at?

"The emoluments for this job will make you set for life in terms of wealth. Think on it," the king said.

The sudden change in the king's hospitality made me relatively certain of why he was doing this: he was sending me off on a cause that all but guaranteed my doom. He wanted to get rid of me, but he didn't want to directly do it and gain the resentment of anyone who followed him. It would not bode well for the public to learn that King Iosias killed his supposedly most loyal follower.

Yet that didn't seem to fit just right. The king had the most resources in the entire country. Surely he could have me disposed of in a discrete manner. Was the king truly so desperate that he actually believed that, on the vague possibility that I could carry out the task, it was worth the trouble?

I put my hand to my chin and closed my eyes. Did it actually matter? Not really. Regardless of his motive, I had no choice. If I said no, chances were he would find some quiet way of killing me. Saying yes gave me the chance to run away at any time, for if I was to assassinate the king's main adversary, I would first have to reach him. That would be roughly ten days' travel on horseback. Thus if I truly believed the task was too large, I could just flee. Then again, I'd face the same problem of what I'd do afterwards…

I shook my head. I was thinking too far into the future. I needed to concentrate solely on what was in front of me at the moment. And the better decision was clear.

I slowly nodded my ascent to his mission.

The king reared back and blinked rapidly a few times, remaining wide-eyed. It was clear that he didn't expect me to make a decision that quickly. "Oh, well…" His eyes began scanning the room, as though he was searching for what to say next. "Good."

I then made an arbitrary hand gesture to ask for a paper and quill. Understanding the motion, he ordered a servant to bring some and in about a minute I scrawled my message.

I need training. There's no chance of me doing it now.

The king looked up thoughtfully. "Hm… yes. I agree. Very well, you shall receive training from my most skilled general."

And with that, he told a servant to escort me to someone named General Song. I was taken through a seemingly endless labyrinth. I moved past maids and servant boys hurrying along, carrying items such as food, or cleaning implements. I overheard several heated discussions between seemingly influential men. The entire setup vaguely reminded me of my master's castle, except the place was immeasurably larger, and the general mood wasn't as uninviting.

Eventually I came to a dark room that was mostly empty, bar its walls. It was a cube made entirely of pristine, shiny hardwood. Various wooden weapons and training equipment were lined up against the walls—swords, long sticks, punching bags, boards, and more. The only reason the room wasn't pitch black was because of mounted candles set along the room. At the very end of the area were two green cushions. One was occupied by a muscular man facing away from the entrance.

As soon as I entered, the man stood up and faced me, as though sensing my presence. I walked up to him and got a closer look at his features. He looked to be in his mid thirties. He had a bit of scruff growing from his chin, and his brown, graying hair was cut almost to his scalp. His dark eyes seemed to have a weariness that made me think that he had seen many things that a normal person should not see. Yet his figure was slim and well-formed, and he seemed to move with complete ease. He had the body of someone in their twenties, and yet his face made him look so much older.

"I'm General Song," he said shortly. I nodded politely—clearly he already knew why I was here. "Put your arms out." He caught my bewildered expression and explained, "You need to put your arms out so I can assess your physical condition."

Acquiescing, I threw out my arms to my full wingspan. Without warning, he approached and began patting me down. I tensed up, then relaxed, realizing that this is what he must have meant by "physical assessment." He checked all areas of me, telling me to flex here and turn there. Finally he stepped back and nodded.

"Not bad. But there's a lot of room for improvement. Your legs lack proper strength, and with a disproportionate build you'll have trouble moving at the speed that assassins must operate."

Suddenly he dropped to a guarding stance, took off his shirt and flung it to the side, and put his fists up near his cheeks. "Second part of the assessment. I want you to fight me in hand-to-hand combat. The one who is knocked to the ground."

Taken aback by this man's terse attitude, I paused. But then I again nodded and threw off my shirt. His expression flickered for a moment as he noticed the scars on my back from the whipping, but he didn't comment. And thus we began.

We circled around each other, and he nodded at me, telling me that I could have the first move. Striking as soon as he gave me permission, I threw my fist at his stomach, and before I even had time to process what was happening, one of his arms dropped down and blocked my strike, and suddenly I was lifted up off the ground by a fist. I was hit about six more times, knocking the wind out of me, being hit higher and higher up, until suddenly the man jumped up, spun around, and his heel slammed into my face, catapulting me through the air. I crashed into the ground and slid a few more feet, and spots flashed across my eyes.

I felt a strange, unpleasant feeling in my stomach. It wasn't as though it was physical, but I felt disappointed. I'd never even come close to losing a fight before (in retrospect I'd never really fought that many people), and then this man suddenly just defeated me in the matter of ten seconds.

"You lose," he said simply. He slowly walked over to me and offered his hand, showing that there was no malice behind his blows. Gratefully I took it, and he hoisted me up onto my feet.

"Again."

Again? Hadn't he proven already that he was my better? Regardless, I got up, already feeling the pain of his previous attacks, and we fought again.

These short bouts happened eight times more. On the tenth fight I was battered and irritated, becoming tired of getting up, just to promptly get knocked down again. This time, I eyed his stance carefully. I struck at the point that seemed the least guarded—his left hip. He seemed a bit surprised, and instead of blocking he spun around. He threw a fist at my face, intending the fight to end quickly. But I was ready—as I had struck I moved fluidly and spun around and threw my other hand up to hit his arm away. I began to kick, but he grabbed my leg and spun me around. Tenaciously I added to the momentum just enough to spin back onto my feet. His head unguarded, I quickly put all my strength behind one, final punch, just hoping to land a good hit before I was defeated.

But it never connected, as I felt an extremely powerful force slam into my stomach. My vision flashed black, my eyes went wide, and my head jerked down, and I coughed out a globule of blood. The fist slowly left my stomach and I collapsed to the floor. I was hoping that I would lose consciousness to take me away from this pain, but unfortunately I was still awake.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to draw blood. But I suppose now is a good time to stop." He offered his hand as he always had and he pulled me up. I could barely stand and I swayed, as though the slightest breeze could knock me over.

"Thankfully you proved my point in that last fight," General Song said. "You seemed to think that fighting was just about being faster and stronger. But once you strategized a bit, you caught me by surprise." He gingerly sat down on his cushion and looked up at me. "That's your first lesson, but you're done for now. I want you to rest—you already traveled for a while and that was enough fighting for now.

I wanted to protest that I had only been with him for about half an hour, but he was right. I felt sore from traveling, from all of his blows, and it was about nine o' clock.

"I'll take you to your room," he offered. I accepted and he led me to a room that I felt was superfluous. All there was was a large window, a mirror above a dresser, and a bed. But the bed was large enough to hold six people, and long enough to fit an extra person at the end. It had eight cushy pillows, and it had a roof with drapes falling down and covering it. But there was no need to ask for less, so I didn't complain.

He then called in a servant to dress me. I was promptly stripped of my traveler's clothes and then all of me was thoroughly washed—my hair and my body. Then I was dressed in much more formal attire. After both the general and the servant left, I looked, and, for the first time, saw my reflection in a mirror.

A black, straight, and shiny-haired pale individual looked back at me. His eyes were brown and deep, and his posture was weary and guarded. He wore a white robe and pants, the robe being decorated with golden lines. Despite the beating he had just received, he looked uninjured. He looked… resentful.

Why should there be resentment in my eyes? Whom do I bear resentment towards? I don't feel strong hatred. I must have simply misperceived what was in the mirror. At that point I heard a knock on my door. I went over to open it and suddenly I was face to face with Lara.

It was the first time I had seen her as a true princess, and I was struck with a confusing feeling that made my stomach flip. Her hair fell gracefully down to her shoulders, and she wore a white dress and a small, silver tiara with an emerald in the middle.

She recoiled a little and eyed me with a strange look. "Oh… Chane… You, ah…" she seemed to be lost for words. "You… clean up nicely…" she murmured, just audibly enough for me to hear it. "Ah! A-anyway!" she yelled abruptly and loudly. "I-I just wanted to ask you what my father told you." We sat down on my bed together and she handed me some paper and a quill.

I gave her all the details of what happened. Her look turned to one of horror and she exclaimed "Chane, that's awful! Don't tell me you said yes!" Not hesitating, I simply nodded my head. "Why! You just got here and now you're going to leave!"

I had no choice, I wrote. Please, calm down and think about this rationally.

She took a deep breath and nodded. "Well, yes, I suppose…" She suddenly grabbed my hand and I jumped. "But you saved me multiple times. It doesn't feel right for you to just risk it again for my father… who mistreated you…"

I placed my other hand on her shoulder and nodded reassuringly. I tried to offer her a small smile, but she remained mostly unconvinced.

For some reason it just hit me that both hands were touching her. I almost jerked away, but I stopped myself, telling myself that it was only contact and that nothing was meant behind it.

Suddenly Queen Athena came by and called Lara away. Lara looked at me meaningfully and said "Be safe. Promise me that," and then left.

I laid down in the bed after the door closed.

Sorry, but I don't know if I can keep that promise, I thought.

But that was the last thing I thought, as the bed was infinitely more comfortable and inviting that what I was used to sleeping in, and soon enough my consciousness was snatched away from me.

EC: Chane finally met his match. It had to happen, or else he shouldn't have been taught by that guy, right? I don't know, not much to say about this chapter other than I liked writing about Lara being… "surprised" by Chane's appearance. One more chapter in the castle, and then we're off on a journey!

PC: Sorry guys! I know it has been a long time, but I've had a bit of a lack of inspiration. But after a lot of reflection, I now fully know where I want to take this story, every step of the way! Now it's just a matter of writing it. So, without further ado, here is chapter nine!

I woke up from a knock at my door. I groggily pulled myself up and looked out the window. Sunlight was filtering through the transparent shades. That in and of itself was enough to shock me into full wakefulness—I had never woken up after the sun rose. I quickly dashed to the door and flung it open.

Lara jumped at my frenetic movement. "Calm down, Chane, it's only me." She surveyed my appearance for a moment. "You just woke up, huh? My apologies for jolting you up."

I shook my head and held out a hand to show her it was fine. I wasn't all too pleased that I had to be woken up, but it was better than sleeping until midday.

I took a quick look at her appearance. She looked less distressed than when I had broke the news of what the king had charged me with, but the critical eye she observed me with made it clear that she still didn't really approve of what I was doing.

"I came here to say two things," Lara said. "First of all, General Song says he wants you in the training room as soon as you can manage."

I hoped he wasn't the kind of person to be pissed off at people for being late. It wouldn't happen again, that was for sure. I was half-tempted to just sleep on the cold cement floor so that I would never get comfortable enough to sleep that long.

I nodded and motioned for her to go on.

"The second thing is…" She stopped and looked around, as though uncomfortable with what she was about to say. "Thank you."

The raising of my eyebrow was enough to say "for what?"

"Without you, I'd still be in that awful place." She sighed and leaned against a nearby wall. "Worse, maybe. I probably still would have tried to escape. Except there would be no one to save me."

To be fair, if it wasn't for her, I too would have been stuck there—likely for the rest of my life. That only further reinforced the point that I had been trying to avoid: in the end, I did need her. Indirectly, she saved my life. I had once believed that even if I was trapped, I was still alive. But I wasn't alive. I existed, but what was life? For that, the answer was still recondite, but I knew for sure that life wasn't back in forced servitude—slavery.

The harrowing thought was that without her, I probably would never have realized that my existence was empty. It probably would have made no difference, too—I admitted that one of my largest faults was that I was stubborn in my ideals.

The question then became whether or not it was for the better that I realized there was more to life than that. Before, my existence was hollow. There were no surprises—I was a drone that simply carried out the task that was demanded of him. Now, there were guaranteed to be ups and downs. Happiness and sadness? I wasn't entirely sure if I still understood those two words. But I could understand the difference between fortunate and unfortunate, and my life was guaranteed to have those differences now that I'd opened the doors to the real world.

"You helped me realize something," she continued, shocking me out of my reverie. "As a princess, I was so used to getting things the way I wanted to that I never really expected anything to go wrong." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath and took a step toward me. She then opened them again and smiled at me. "I can't exactly say learning the lesson that life isn't perfect was a pleasant one. But it was necessary. You've saved my life and made me learn. For that, I can safely say that even though I was imprisoned for three months, it was a necessary step."

She took one step closer and suddenly threw her arms around me. "I know you might not like physical contact, but I spoke to my mother last night and it led me to think about a lot of things." She took a step back. "That was for luck. I hope you will be safe on your journey. That's also the meager thanks I can give you for now, for being such a friend to me." She laughed weakly, and then added "well, even if you don't see me as a friend." For a moment, I was sure I saw a silhouette pass by the doorway after she said this.

Somehow this sparked another bout of introspection. All the time, I had seen her as some "mutual survival partner." The idea held little water at this point—at the most, she was more of a barrier between me and the king's wrath. She had fulfilled her part of being a partner after she had set me up with the king. And yet…

I began to think it didn't matter anymore. Indeed, that part of our relationship was ended. But did that mean I had to stop speaking to her? I had to admit, she had awoken a lot inside of me as well—the concept of emotion wasn't exactly foreign anymore (even if the concept was still difficult), and I had somewhat learned what it was like to aim for my goals. Again, I didn't know what life was. But what I did know is she had something to do with it.

She had stayed close to me all this time. Every time I tried to push her away, she just kept coming back. Here she was, giving me her sincere gratitude. She didn't have to be here—true, she delivered the message about my appointment with my teacher, but she definitely didn't have to say thank you. Maybe, just maybe I could…

I pulled my writing material out of my clothing and wrote down a few words.

No, I think it's safe to say at this point that I consider you a friend as well.

Her eyes widened and she just stared at the words for a moment, stupefied. Then she smiled the largest smile I had ever seen from anyone.

But before she could speak again, she was called away by her mother, yet again. She nodded at me and left.

I slowly walked out of my room, partially dazed by the conversation I had just had. I looked a bit further down the hall and saw Lara and her mother speaking hurriedly in hushed whispers. I couldn't see Queen Athena's face, but Lara looked incredibly hopeful and determined.

As I went through the castle's many passageways, I reflected on what had just happened. I had just broken a wall between Lara and I—a wall that I hadn't truly realized had existed. But it was gone, now. She and I were friends, and the more I mulled it over, the more I liked and disliked the idea.

I liked the idea for the fact that it meant I had someone to count on. Lara was honest and true—for that, it made me relatively sure that she would never betray me. She would always do her best to help me, and there was something reassuring about the fact that I had someone of which I could rely.

I disliked the idea, however, because it had broken part of my ideology—I had always enjoyed the freedom of not being chained to anyone. My decisions were my own, and damn the consequences of anyone else whom it affected. But now I had someone who counted on me. If I got injured… or killed, then there would be someone who was distraught about it. I didn't exactly like the thought that I could be responsible for someone's pain—not if it was someone I cared about.

Cared about? How strange. I used to never understand the feeling, and yet here was someone whose life I valued. But there was no point in denying it anymore. Otherwise I wouldn't have just told her that we were friends. Friends… the word and its ramifications were so obfuscating that I decided it was better I just learned by an empirical method rather than trying to figure out what it meant by ratiocinating.

I finally arrived at the training room and my mind shifted gears. I noticed right away that I didn't see General Song. Something about that rang warning bells in my head—he was aware that I was late and yet he wasn't in the room? That made me jump backwards, just in time to see a fist fly right in front of my face.

"Very good. I'm glad you were able to pick up on my surprise attack so quickly," General Song's voice came from around the door. He walked to the middle of the room and raised his hands, indicating that he had no intention of attacking again. Regardless, I kept my distance—he had already raised the possibility that he was liable to strike at any moment, and I wasn't too keen on finding out just how often he would strike.

"As an assassin, you will rarely have to deal with face-to-face combat, unlike most of the soldiers in this war," he said. "It's nearly always one strike: either by you or by your opponent, and then it's over."

War… come to think of it, I had never learned its cause. So I mouthed two words: why war?

He seemed to understand. "Well, I do suppose understanding why this war is occurring would be useful. And from what I hear of your past, you haven't exactly been able to learn much about it."

He sat down and invited me to sit as well. Once I did, he began.

"I don't know how much you know, so I'll start from the beginning. There are two sides in this civil war, the king versus the rich noble known as Lord Emerald. The two were once friends, but something between them changed. No one knows what exactly, but relations between them became rocky. One year ago, war began.

"Why? To tell you the truth, there isn't really a clear answer. There are always unsatisfied subjects, and on the surface, it seems as though Lord Emerald just made them think that the king's ruling was so terrible that it was time for a revolution."

He closed his eyes and lifted his head. "As for why Lord Emerald incited the rebellion, I'm not really sure. His supporters say he's doing it for the sake of his kingdom. Cynics believe that he's doing it because he wants more power." He shook his head. "I met Lord Emerald once. He's not power-hungry. If anything, the only reason he's managed to convince so many people to join him is because of his charisma and honesty. In a sense, he outclasses the king in character."

I was momentarily shocked that he was speaking so freely about the king's faults. It was treason, and he could be hanged for it. I supposed he either believed I wouldn't say anything or that if I tried to, the king wouldn't believe me. Both were true.

"There's always a goal. As long as you keep moving forward towards that goal, it doesn't truly matter if the world is falling apart around you. At least you still have drive. It's reason enough. That's what Lord Emerald does that King Iosias doesn't—the king seems to have lost direction after the first death of his wife. But Lord Emerald always keeps moving after his goals fail. So perhaps it's a clash of ideologies that's the reason that the two are fighting, but I still think there's more to it than that."

He opened his eyes and looked at me. "Does that give you a satisfactory answer?"

I nodded. All it seemed to me is that this war was pointless. For whatever personal reason that Lord Emerald was fighting, it didn't seem valid enough to foment a bloodbath.

With that, my training for the second day began. He taught me about the three most valuable weapons that an assassin had.

The first was a simple knife. It was perfectly capable of killing, but better yet, it could be used for both close and long range. Moreover, one could hide a knife anywhere. So long as an assassin had a knife, he was not helpless.

The second was stealth. My enemies cannot fight me if they do not know I am there. A quick stab to the back or a slit in the throat is all I need to do to start and end a fight. Alternatively, if I want to avoid confrontation altogether, I could rely on this skill to make sure I would not be detected.

The final—and most powerful—was the human mind. This went twofold—the ingenuity and quick-thinking of an assassin was often his most versatile tool, as there were many occasions that the first two weapons couldn't handle alone. But moreover, understanding one's enemy was vital. I thought it basic in concept, but the necessity of it was truly staggering. I could predict an enemy's movements and therefore be guaranteed no surprises. It explained why my teacher told me about his observations of Lord Emerald—assuming the man was as honest as General Song claimed that he was, I would be able to take advantage of that fact by assuming that his castle wasn't that well guarded.

… And so the days passed. The days turned to weeks, and the weeks soon became a month. I learned the art of hiding in the shadows. I gruelingly trained with the knife until I was essentially a master in precise strikes. My teacher and I would often take walks around the castle and observe the world around us from afar. He would often ask me questions about what I observed, and slowly I became better at understanding people. I even became fluent in sign language—he figured it would be a useful tool considering my disability. And I agreed—my master and I could then talk without me having to pause often to write.

The entire process wasn't as unpleasant as I had made it out to be. Yes, what I was training for wasn't exactly what I looked forward to—even though I had killed a man, I didn't exactly count it as an experience that I cared to repeat. But Lord Emerald was only an obstacle to me. Not a man, but a wall standing between me and limitless finances. The almost laughable thought was though I had learned a little bit about noble etiquette, I dressed in their clothes, and I lived in the king's castle, I was still impecunious.

I even was able to talk to Lara every day. Well, more like her talking and me writing, but the apprehension I had about breaking that barrier between us slowly melted into comfort. I began to realize that even from a logical standpoint, considering her a friend was wise—at the very least, it established a level of trust that meant we could both truly count on each other if circumstances became bad. It was certainly better than our unsure thoughts about how the other would act before we both agreed to this friendship.

But then one day, all went to hell.

I was walking down the halls to my room when suddenly I came across Queen Athena. Instinctively I began to drop to bow, but she laughed and waved me up, telling me that there was no need to stand on ceremony.

"Actually, Chane, I was wondering if I could talk to you for a little bit," she said. I nodded, and she led me into the nearby empty room. I briefly reflected on the fact that there seemed to be so many vacant rooms in this place, just waiting to be occupied.

"I wanted to ask… What do you think of my daughter?"

Taken aback at this sudden question, I just stared at her blankly.

She laughed lightly. "It's a pretty simple question, yes? What is your opinion of her?"

I tried to answer this as I thought was appropriate. Thankfully, I didn't have to lie—the truth was innocuous enough.

She's my friend, and I appreciate that, I wrote to her.

She shook her head. "Well, I'm glad, but I mean, how would you assess her character?"

That was a stranger question than I had anticipated. True enough, I had gotten better at assessing people since my teacher had told me how. So I gathered my thoughts and slowly wrote them down, pausing here and there to check.

Your Highness, I suspect you want true honesty, so I will tell you all of what I believe. She can be impulsive and naïve; unaware of the world around her. But at her best she is trustworthy, willing to learn, and compassionate—she's someone who will never let one down if they earn her trust. In a sense, she's the most virtuous person I've ever known.

All of this was true—I had been honest because I truly believed that she would not react violently even if I outlined her less desirable qualities. There was no reason to lie to this woman. She was not the king, and I had no quarrel with her.

She smiled; I had judged right in assuming she wanted honesty. Before she answered, I saw a few group of people walk by the entrance—they looked to be tacticians for the war. "Well, that's what I think of her, too. It's nice to know you have someone to count on. Knowing I always will have my husband by my side makes life feel safe. Simply being with him makes me… happy. I don't know if that's the same way you feel about my daughter, but do know that she enjoys being around you."

"To be honest, I think Lara might be better to succeed the throne than Elena," she sighed. "Maybe that's just my maternal pride speaking, but…" She stopped, suddenly aware of whom she was talking to. "Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bore you with my ramblings."

I shook my head and smiled. From what I knew, Elena was militant and rather closed off. In contrast, Lara was loving and open. Perhaps she didn't have the same fighting capability that Elena did, but the people's support was more important than a tactical mind. Without the people, a ruler was but a human with a crown.

One that people probably wanted dead.

She didn't say anything more, so I nodded and went out, heading toward my room. But after I had walked about twenty feet, I heard a scream. I sprinted back into the room and saw Queen Athena covered in blood—she had been stabbed in the heart. Next to her was a figure fully coated in black. I ran at this figure, but it dodged out of my way and ran out of the room. I briefly considered giving chase, but then decided that the queen's life was more important.

Kneeling by her side, I checked her pulse. She looked up at me and with the last of her strength she said "L… Lara… L…" and then her head fell and her pulse stopped.

Suddenly two guards arrived. I didn't need any thinking to know what they were about to think—I couldn't properly explain myself, and for one of the few times in my life, I truly regretted being mute. They charged at me and I deftly dodged their attack, and then ran straight out.

What could I do? Thinking on my feet, I knew there was only one answer—I had to escape the palace before everyone noticed. Otherwise I'd be caught and then everything would be over.

I ran for my life, running as hard as I did the day I escaped that prison. On the way, I passed by Lara's room, and she said "Chane, what are—" but I didn't catch the rest of her words, for I was already too far away.

I made it out of the palace and at the front gate I saw a guard on a horse. Without really thinking, I ran towards him and leaped up, then kicked him off the horse and landing on the horse's back, all in one fluid motion. I dug my heels into the horse and I fled the city, knowing exactly where I had to go.

EC: For the record, this is my longest chapter by about one thousand words. Sorry if it seemed lengthy, but there was a lot to do here. So let's go in order of occurrence…

Chane now considers Lara a friend. Ain't that nice? It was inevitable that his bitter walls would melt in the face of such kindness. I couldn't help at smile at writing that part—call it egocentric if you will, but I was really happy to finally see the part where Chane accepts Lara as more than just some tool. 8D

General Song's pretty awesome, if you ask me. Originally, I had this scene and the one before set up far differently (this was soon after I wrote chapter 8—my first draft with chapter 9). Lara was inexplicably happy and General Song was almost playful. But when I realized this did little but seem like filler and a breach in autonomy, I decided to use each scene as a means to further a relationship and Chane's understanding of the war, respectively.

Poor Athena. She was never really destined to be a dynamic character or anything. More of a flat character—but I liked her all the same. Question then becomes this: why was she assassinated? I'm raising that to you, and of course there's a reason, but see if you can think through it. 8D

All in all, the "castle arc" of chapters six to nine was one that I had a love-hate relationship with. It was necessary, of course, but I had to keep rewriting things to make it seem less slowly paced. I'm happy with it at this point though. I hope you enjoyed it!

By the way, as long as this inspiration stays, you can expect another installment real soon. 8D

PC: Two in two days! Not bad, huh?

The guards didn't give chase, for they didn't know who I was. Thankfully, this gave me enough time to get some fair distance. I didn't dare stop until my horse seemed tired enough that forcing it to continue was unwise.

East. I was heading east. There was only one solution for what I had just done, and even the possibility of that acting as compensation for what I had "done" was slim. The only viable solution I could see was to kill Lord Emerald and then come back. Theoretically, if I walked back with my hands up, but also with proof that I did the job, the king would possibly see that I hadn't done it—and still reward me with his promised emoluments.

Maybe. The guy wasn't even the sharpest spoon in the drawer.

I realized how grim my situation was—I had four things that I owned at the moment: a loaf of bread I had planned to eat for lunch, ten knives hidden in various places, a horse, and the clothes on my back. The problem then became that I still had no money. Even if I did, all villages were now off limits to me. They would know who to look for. I would be chased, or possibly caught.

I didn't know if survival was possible. If I found a river and drank from it, that would solve my thirst. In addition, I could conserve the loaf of bread as much as possible, and if worse came to worst, I could eat the horse. But I didn't want it to come to that.

I sighed and scanned the area around me. I had strayed onto a hilly, grassy terrain. As far as I could see, there was no civilization for miles. The sun had nearly set, and it painted the horizon a breathtaking combination of red, pink, and orange. Had I not been running for my life, I would have been impressed with the serene scenery.

I sat down in the soft grass, not entirely sure of what to do next. I needed to wait for my horse to recover, but that wouldn't be until the morning, most likely.

I laid down and began and simply stared at the sky, watching the sun drop behind the hills. For a time, I was truly alone. There was me, and there was darkness. A stifling, suffocating cover that was destined to hold me forever. I could travel this world to its very ends, running for sunlight. But it was inevitable: the darkness would always show itself again. It would be the last thing I saw.

As the seconds became minutes and the minutes faded into an hour, I lost my sense of time. I began to believe that this sky was truly destined to remain a perpetual void. Then a star began to appear. It was extremely dim, but as I waited, I saw it become brighter and brighter. It was the sole light in the sky; its light gently fell down and illuminated my path.

I was no longer alone.

"Chane! Chane! Wake up!"

For a moment before I reached full consciousness, I reflected on what an awful dream I had. The death of Queen Athena, my flight from the castle, and my essential exile. All of it was incredibly vivid. I was silently thankful that it was but a morbid construct of my subconscious.

And the next moment I remembered that it was all reality. I shot up and looked around me. I felt a slight breeze slide along my skin, gently pushing the grass with it, but things still were dark. I looked to my right and nearly jumped up with shock.

It was Lara. For a moment I began to believe that this was the dream, but everything was too real. And she definitely was right next to me, looking incredibly worried. Near her was a horse that held many carrying bags—presumably full of supplies.

"What's going on?" she demanded.

I searched my cloak for writing materials but found none.

She stopped my efforts and said "I understand sign. And I know you've been learning it—that's why I decided to learn as well."

Shocked by this sudden revelation, I slowly began moving my hands together to attempt to see if she understood.

Really? Are you sure that you understand?

"Perfectly," she affirmed.

Well then—what are you doing here? I signed.

"I should be asking you that!" she exclaimed. She closed her eyes, pinched her brow, and took a deep breath. "I saw you running, and two guards chasing you, but that's all I knew. In all the chaos, I thought quickly and decided to get a horse with supplies and follow your path!" She looked at my conspicuously unsupplied horse with disgust. "At least one of us did that."

To be fair, I was running for my life, I answered, feeling a bit defensive.

"Whatever," she said dismissively.

Before she continued her onslaught of questions, I managed to get one of my own in.

Why did you follow me?

"Because I was worried about you! I don't know why you ran, but I know you're actually a good person, so whatever it was, I know you didn't do it!"

So this was how far friends went for each other? I was pretty amazed myself—I hadn't realized that this is how much she cared. I felt a strange feeling of warmth in my stomach that soon enough subsided.

"My mother agreed to let me train with General Song! I've learned techniques as well, and I know where you're going—to Lord Emerald's place! But why? Why not go back and just explain things!"

I suddenly recalled that time where I had seen her and her mother talking urgently. That was likely what they were talking about… Of course Lara wouldn't just let me go alone. She was too opposed to the idea in the first place.

But then two very bad things dawned on me. She had left the castle at the same time a now fugitive left. Worse, she told me all she knew was that I ran and then she followed me.

Oh. Oh no, I thought. This was bad. Really bad.

Listen, you need to go back, I signed urgently.

"What?" All this seemed to do was make her more upset. "Hell no!" I was taken aback by her colorful language. "I came all this way to find you and now you're sending me back? No! Explain to me what is going on right now!"

I had never seen her so furious. But I had seen her so stubborn, and I was aware that she really was going to go nowhere without an explanation. Briefly, I considered lying, but it was more strategic to tell the truth.

I need you to go back because since you left at the same time at me, people will logically assume I kidnapped you.

She shook her head and scowled. "I left a note on my bed explaining that I followed you. I'm not that stupid."

I had to give her credit; she was an extremely quick thinker. True, they would still chase me because of my supposed "crime," but in relation to Lara, the most people would do would be to assume that it was dangerous to tail me and they would worry for her safety.

"Look, can you please just explain to me what happened? I left as fast as possible to catch up to you."

I steeled myself for the news I was about to give.

I was talking to your mother, I began. After our conversation, I left the room, and then heard a scream. I ran back inside and found your mother… I hesitated, but I knew that I couldn't stop there. She was dead. I looked up at Lara and her expression had frozen to one not of sorrow or anger, but of sheer surprise.

"What happened next?" she whispered hoarsely.

There was another figure, fully covered in black. I tried to attack it, but it dodged my strike. Instead of giving chase, I checked your mother. At that very moment, guards came in. Of course, they assumed I did it.

For a time, she didn't speak. Even the wind seemed to have stopped, waiting for her response. She merely stood stone still and stared out in the distance, clearly seeing nothing.

"Did she… say anything? Before she—" her voice broke. She was like a little child, afraid to ask for something because of what her parent would say or do.

She said your name. She seemed to be trying to say something else after that, but… I trailed off, not really wanting to say that she died yet again.

"I… I see…" she whispered.

Suddenly I got the feeling that she wanted to be alone. I cast my net out for an excuse and quickly managed to find one.

Listen, I'd better go search for a stream. I'll be back as soon as I can.

"What..?" she asked slowly. She looked up to my face, but it was obvious that she still wasn't seeing anything. "Oh, yes… Good idea…"

I trekked over the hills on foot, looking for a waterway. I did my best to focus on this task, but my mind was so turbulent that my searched ended unsuccessfully.

What was I going to do? How was I going to help Lara? What would happen after she calmed down?

There were so many questions and, as always, none of them could be immediately answered. I felt a pang of sympathy for her. I had lived my entire life without my parents, so I never truly understood the relationship between a child and his or her mother and father. From what I saw, however, they looked really close. It was also strange to me that I felt sympathy for her—I hadn't really known the feeling, but to see her so upset was…

As I came closer to our spot, I heard heavy breathing. It was sporadic and they sounded more like quick gasps and hiccups rather than actual breathing. I peeked around the hills and saw Lara on her knees. When I looked carefully, I saw droplets of water falling from her face.

She was crying.

Without thinking, I slowly moved toward her and quietly sank to my knees when I was right behind her. Then I slowly wrapped my arms around her and pulled her into an embrace. It was the first time I had started a hug between us. She jumped, but quickly turned around and looked at me. We looked at each other, but nothing needed to be said. She lowered her head into my chest and resumed sobbing.

I recalled when she believed her father had left her, she had been crying in my arms, as well. But this time was different. Last time she had come to me. Last time I had felt no pity. Last time I had ended it because I was afraid of what would happen if Lord Luke saw us. This time I pulled her to my arms. This time I truly felt sorry and caring for her. This time, I intended to let the tears fall until she was ready to let go.

I watched the situation around me. I held this girl in my arms, and I would hold her there as long as she needed. She helped me so often, she always kept coming for me whenever there was trouble, and she had never let me down.

For the very first time in my life, I began to understand what it was like to feel sad. A sinking feeling that was hollow inside. This one person, this very one person in this world that I had cared for was heartbroken. I felt her pain; I attempted to absorb it, to help her survive.

For the very first time in my life, I began to understand what it was like to feel happy. I felt light and limitless. I was sad, but because of this other feeling, everything was okay. Holding her in my arms, being able to support her; it all contributed. The warmth of her body, the almost scalding heat of her tears, but most of all, her essence; this embrace went beyond our physical bodies: her essence and mine joined, for one ephemeral yet also eternal moment.

We were no longer alone.

And for that reason, for the very first time in my life, I began to understand what it was like to feel…

No. I shouldn't have so readily believed that. I had experienced joy and sorrow, but I wasn't so sure it was also that. I needed more time. But my mind wasn't so violently opposed to the idea. It was a tender curiosity that compelled me to approach and examine this new thought.

Her sobs turned to soundless tears, and eventually the crying stopped. But neither of us was willing to break contact to the other, so she pulled away from my chest and we rested our heads together. Once again, there were no words needed. Everything transcended that—for this night, we truly understood each other without either having to communicate. We watched the stars appear, and eventually she fell asleep.

I gently lowered her to the ground and for a time, contented myself with watching her steady, peaceful breathing. Then a thought dawned on me. I had seen Lara and her mother once do this, and I thought that maybe now was a time to learn more about this new, vulnerable feeling.

I slowly lowered my head until finally I was an inch away. Then I slowly pressed my lips against hers.

It was wrong to do so. It almost felt like stealing. But what just happened was undeniable. There was a rush of… of what? That feeling I had became exponential. Flame flared in my stomach, and I felt something beyond comprehension. It transcended words, and it filled my whole being.

Lara, I…

But my thought never finished. The exhaustion of all these new discoveries, the escape from the palace, and now this was just too much for my tired mind to bear. I fell to the ground, and soon enough I, too, fell asleep.

EC: HNNNNG. I've written for a while, but… This was one of those moments. For a second, I was there, with those two! This chapter is probably the best in my story. I'm not saying that to be conceited. It was Chane and Lara. Nothing else, just them.

I was really happy with how this turned out—I even felt kind of emotional writing this (not like I cried). I don't have much to say about it, I just hope that all of you liked it as much as I did. I hope this also doesn't look like me patting myself on the back, just… I very rarely feel satisfied with my work.

PC: Time to meet up with our man of the hour, Lord Emerald!

I woke up from that night, but I hadn't just moved on from an old day; I'd moved on from an old world. I felt different. Hitherto last night, I would have described my method of thinking as a mass of calculations. That time that I shared with Lara changed everything. My thinking had become muddled since that night. The concept of "feeling" was so foreign to me that I often found myself trying to decipher it.

But as we traveled in relative silence—words not being needed between us—I began to intuitively understand… that I wasn't meant to understand. Feeling, unlike so many other aspects of my life, was not something that could be or even needed dissection. Feeling needed to be experienced, and perhaps if I simply let it happen I would, if not understand, at least countenance the sensation. I curiously revisited past events in my memories; most did not draw a response, but those that did had one thing in common: they involved Lara in one way or another.

What did she bring into my life? Nothing concrete—not anymore. So I was forced to face the fact that I no longer valued what she could do for me—I valued her.

But what did that mean? I valued something for its utility, up until now. She wasn't really a utility at this point—logically speaking, she was more of a burden that placed me in danger. Yet both of us came to an unspoken, yet understood agreement that we would travel together in this. There would be no talking her out of coming with me in this mission, for the sake of both.

That was another thing. Each night we would lie down near each other and watch the stars for a time. Before we went to sleep, we stretched out our arms and squeezed each other's hands once, every night. Anyone who witnessed it might have described it as strange—and I wouldn't blame them if they did. I wasn't entirely sure why she and I did it, and I doubted she knew either. Maybe it was to give comfort to the other, to give reassurance that they were still going to be there in the morning.

It was likely due to constant thought without focusing on the task at hand that I quickly found myself standing before the city occupied by Lord Emerald.

The area was far, far different from the capital. It was smaller; much more modest in comparison to the skyward buildings that littered the king's domain. Somehow, this made it less alien. But the castle near the center did stand taller than the rest.

"Okay, Chane," Lara began. "What do you suggest we do?"

First, can you tell me anything you know about this city and its castle? I signed. Any information would be useful in making a plan.

She looked down and screwed her eyes in concentration. "Well, I haven't been here since before the war began." She began pacing around and watching the city with a critical eye. "But the place wasn't that heavily guarded. That probably hasn't changed much considering most of his troops are out fighting.

"It's a small place, and its passages aren't nearly as confusing as my home." She frowned and shook her head. "Sorry. That's all I can remember."

I assured her that it was fine and got to thinking. There were a multitude of ways to get in, but if Lara's identity was discovered, it would be all over.

Wait a minute!

I supposed it was unfair to Lara to do this. She had already played hostage once in her life, and I was sure that she wasn't too keen on doing it again. But regardless, we marched through the city. People looked at us with unhidden curiosity, and I heard hushed whispers.

I had knocked out a stray guard patrolling the perimeter of the city. Donning his uniform, I bound Lara's wrists with ropes and marched her through the city straight to the castle. The doors quickly opened for us and I was escorted straight to Lord Emerald's room. The entire process took twenty minutes, but it was all a blur.

There I stood in the smaller throne room of Lord Emerald. Unlike the king, he didn't attempt to aggrandize his power. It was a relatively modest room—no carpet, no ceremonial flags, just a small chair that had no signs of embellishment. On it sat a man who looked to be about the king's age.

He immediately looked familiar. I wasn't sure why, but I took a moment to observe his features. He wasn't all that imposing. He stood only a few inches taller than Lara, and he had balding black-gray hair. His eyes were a deep brown. At once I understood what my teacher had told me: he was an honest man. There was no way to properly describe it—I took one look at his eyes and knew that he was, at least at this point, not a man to lie.

He stood up and walked down to us. He looked up at me and asked "Are you the man who captured her?"

I held my knife in my sleeve at the ready, but something made me hesitate. I slowly nodded. Lara was probably wondering why I didn't kill him already. A sideways glance at her revealed that she was maintaining her terrified persona, for her sake and mine.

He walked up closer and squinted at me. "Please, remove your helm. I want to see your face."

Without being entirely sure what I was doing, I put my hands to my helm and lifted it off my head, letting him see my face. Immediately, his eyes went wide, but before he could say anything, a guard rushed in and began shouting.

"Someone has set the entire stable loose! Horses are running throughout the town! The guards around the stable have been murdered!"

Everyone's gaze snapped to him. Immediately, Lord Emerald ordered the men to follow him. They hesitated at first, but they must have figured that their "fellow soldier" (me) could keep the princess contained, for they ran out after the other guard.

I nudged Lara and signed for her to run. She got me in, and now it was up to me to finish. Now was the perfect time for her to escape. She nodded and muttered for me to be safe, then ran out. Lord Emerald never reacted to her leaving—he just kept his gaze locked on me.

After she was gone, Lord Emerald spoke.

"Chane… I've been expecting you, but I can't say I expected it to be this way, or this long…" He seemed to be talking to himself rather than me, for he was looking down and muttering under his breath.

He knew my name? He knew I was coming? He thought I was coming before? What the hell was going on here? And why didn't I just go on and kill him already?

I took a step toward him. I didn't know exactly what he was going to do, but I was sure that it was just making me waste this valuable time.

"A long time… a really long time…" he breathed.

I took another step.

"Please! Wait! Here, let me give you this!" he stammered. He took out a key and threw it at me. Other than the fact that it was a shiny gold, there was no indication as to what it was for. "You'll know what it's for…"

I pocketed the key and took another step toward him. "One more thing! Take this!" He took out a vial filled with blue liquid and thrust it at me. "It'll help… You'll speak… Please! Let me just talk to you!"

This made me completely halt in my tracks. I looked down at the vial. The liquid looked completely innocuous, but it could just as easily be poisoned. Why would this man attempt such a transparent attempt on my life?

Unless this man truly was giving me the chance to speak. I was suddenly reminded that General Song described him as a truly honest man. In fact, as I had looked at him, I had indeed observed that he was not truly a man to operate on the shady side of life. But the question became… why? Why would this man whom I supposedly had never met before give me such a cure? The memories of a man like him flashed, but those two couldn't be the same. I had no true past before my service to Lord Luke…

Without entirely sure of why I was deciding to trust this man, I drank the tasteless liquid. It slithered down to my stomach, but as it passed, I immediately felt my throat being cleared. I didn't entirely know what that blue liquid had just done, but the sudden change of feeling told me one thing.

I was no longer mute.

My lifetime had been spent with a throat so constricted and distorted that I had gone on believing that I would never have the opportunity to open it and speak. Yet with the downing of a supposed panacea to all my problems, I suddenly could do what most others could. A luxury often overlooked by most, and often scorned by me.

But recently I had realized that I was taking such an active role in the world that it felt like a tantalizing boon for dealing with tyrants such as King Iosias as well as mysteries such as Lara.

And yet…

Somehow I felt as though it wasn't time yet. I didn't quite know what irrational part of me it was, but I decided that now was not the time to speak out. I could do it now, yes, but speaking without saying the right thing could be far more disastrous than not speaking at all.

That is why even when Lord Emerald beseeched me to speak, I simply pointed at my throat and drew an x. He looked completely crestfallen.

"I did this all in memories' sake… That damn man… I did this for…"

He seemed unable to get a coherent sentence out, and suddenly I despised this man. I did not know why, just simply that I felt a fiery hatred that made me no longer want to see him. His face repulsed me, his very soul disgusted me. Once again, I had no idea why, but some memory made me hate him.

That is why when I heard the guards coming back, I sprinted to the stained glass windows behind him while putting my helm back on. I turned back and threw a single knife—just as with my precision with a bow, I was just as dead on as with a blade. It met its target straight at the heart, and Lord Emerald fell to the floor, a look of sorrow fully occupying his expression. I then crashed through the stained glass windows and landed a story below and proceeded to roll to break the fall. I then proceeded to run back from where Lara and I approached.

Just like that, my job was over.

EC: I find it funny how last chapter was longer than this one, and yet this is supposedly more relevant to the storyline.

Oh wait, no it's not! Yeah, I mean, this is the whole idea of assassination and whatnot, but in the end, it really is about Chane and Lara.

Regardless, I didn't like writing this chapter that much. I mean, I could have done a lot with it, but I really didn't want to. If I placed too much emphasis on this, it would take away from the whole Chane and Lara thread. Chane did his job and it was luckily very simple for him.

Also, listen, I didn't intend to use that whole potion thing as cheating. You'll see where that came from later. But think about it more on a symbolic level. Chane has the ability to speak, but he won't speak out. That's another thread entirely, so let's see where that goes…

Three chapters more and then we're at the final chapter!

PC: Wow! Two in two days, again! At this rate, I really might get it done by Sunday! I know I jokingly told a good friend "yeah, like that'll ever happen," but maybe it really will! Anyway, enjoy!

I managed to make it to the hill where Lara and I began and saw her waiting there. She spotted the urgency in my eyes and knew that we had to keep running. I thought with minor annoyance that I always seemed to be running away from places; first my master's castle, then the capital, and now this place. I began to wonder if I would ever be able to live my life and not be in a rush.

After reaching our horses, we kicked them into a gallop and kept moving until the sun began to set. We set down for the night and laid down on the soft grass and watched the sky.

I recapitulated all that had happened during her absence. Of course, I left the part about the potion—I wasn't ready for any of the world, even Lara, to know that I was among the speaking. She wasn't surprised that ultimately I managed to do the job, but what she was confused over was his attitude and the key. She couldn't explain either; he had always been consistent in dealing with everyone and from every word she heard of him, she'd never heard of him losing his composure.

The fact that she was unaware of what the key would be for was even more disconcerting. I had hoped that if anyone knew, it would be her—she was the only person I could fully trust, but moreover she was royalty and therefore I thought she would know a little bit about influential nobles such as Lord Emerald. Yet when she saw the key, she claimed that it was the first time.

I then was informed what exactly had happened at the stables. As she ran out, she saw none other than Brendon. She told me that he looked even worse than he did before—his clothes were ripped, he was full of cuts, and his eyes were devoid of any humanity. Just as she ran out of sight, she saw him get shot down by an archer.

Lara confessed that she felt extreme guilt at his death. She was, indeed, the one who sent him on the path to this man. She admitted that she expected he would never have made it that far, but apparently he had been waiting for a good chance to strike for a while.

Apparently the capturing of the princess was his supposed good chance to do so.

It was fortunate, yet unfortunate. Fortunate in that his distraction caused the assassination and escape to be pulled off much more smoothly; unfortunate in that a relatively innocent life had to be taken for our benefit. I felt completely severed from my old life at Lord Luke's house. All the servants, all the guards, and the master were dead. Lara and I were the only surviving remnants of that place, and even then, I didn't really count Lara as one of the other servants because of how different she was in every way.

Upon further reflection, I realized that it was probably for the best that I was completely separated from my old life. The complete lack of physical connections to that place would allow my mental state to move on from subservience. There was no guarantee that I would ever become articulate; in fact, there was more or less a guarantee that I never would.

Another nine days later, Lara and I found ourselves back at the foot of the castle, overlooking it on a grassy hill. I surveyed the scene and felt how polar it was to Lord Emerald's former domain. The sun had been rising as we went there; the sun was setting as we were here. There was a gentle breeze there; there was complete silence here.

Lara and I both agreed that it was for the best that the crowd didn't see either of us. We circled around to the back of the city's perimeter and made our way into the castle via the back entrance—the guards greeted her with overjoyed words and offered to escort her, but her face was hidden behind a mask of determination. She shook her head and led me straight to the throne room.

I felt a bout of apprehension as we approached him, but I knew that showing fear would not be tactical. That could easily be misconstrued as guilty and immediately throw me into hot water. Regardless, it was hard not to react with the man's face contorted into fury as he jumped up from his throne when he recognized me. Elena hung back and watched me through narrowed eyes. General Song was also there and was watching me, but his expression was unreadable. No one else was present.

"What the hell are you playing at, you damn killer!" The man was practically screaming.

I looked at Lara and she looked at me and nodded. She apparently was willing to translate for me.

I began signing and she began speaking. "I killed your enemy. I had to in order to show that I was still loyal."

"Father, this… boy… must pay for his crimes," Elena interrupted. "Killing Lord Emerald does not in any way, shape, or form prove that he didn't kill my mother."

Oh, hey there, bitch. When did you suddenly become my enemy? I thought. And yeah, you sound totally loving with your deadpan drawl.

"The man is dead and I came back. Please, see logic," Lara parroted as she watched my hands.

"Elena is right!" King Iosias yelled. "You killed her and you think anything you do will change that!"

I began to sign, but Lara had lost focus on me and had decided to take over. "Chane would never do something like that, Father! He's better than that!"

"I'm sorry, my dear daughter, but there's no way of proving that," said the king as he adopted a softer tone when talking to her. Then his eyes widened as though he had remembered something. "He kidnapped you, too! He took you away from this palace!"

"That's absolutely not true!" she yelled. "I followed him!"

"How incredibly impulsive and foolish, Sister," Elena cut in. "You placed yourself in danger for the sake of this degenerate?"

"Don't call him that!" Lara screamed. "He's better than most of the people in this world!"

I suddenly began to feel helpless. Without my translator, I was forced to watch this conversation unfold. An unpleasant hot feeling began to settle in my stomach. My fists began to clench, and my body began to shake.

"This man is a killer!" King Iosias countered, as his soft tone reverted to edgy. "How in God's name is he better than anyone!"

"He's only killed two people!" Lara fired back. "Once to save my life and once out of loyalty to you!"

"Did you see him shown any hesitation! He doesn't care!"

"Just because he doesn't hesitate doesn't mean it doesn't matter! He did what was moral!"

"I don't think—"

"Enough!"

Everyone stared at me, dumbfounded. Lara gasped, King Iosias' jaw dropped, Elena lost her composure, and even General Song made no effort to hide his surprise. My throat hurt from the effort, but it was worth stopping the argument.

Funny how my first word was yelled louder than any of these people was screaming.

"I thought you were—"

"I was," I interrupted, plowing right over the king's words, "but that's over thanks to this!" I pulled out the empty potion bottle and brandished it at everyone, then threw it on the ground and it shattered into pieces. I seized advantage of the silence and had my say. It felt strangely natural to speak, considering I hadn't uttered a sound for my entire life.

"Your Highness, please, see reason! There is no evidence to suggest that I killed her! Yes I was there, but think for a second! Did I have a means? Did I have a motive? No! That was the first and last day I conversed with her! I went inside, talked to her for a couple of minutes, left, heard a scream, came back to see her and a figure; I chased that figure but it ran out and she died. That's it. I didn't kill her."

"Then who do you suggest is that black figure?" Elena asked. Other than General Song, she was the first to regain control of herself. "And why do suggest that said killer was not noticed?"

"I don't know," I said, shaking my head. "But please. Allow me to investigate. Bring in those guards and interrogate them on everything that they noticed as they ran to the room. Please, Your Highness, give me a chance." I looked at Lara, took a deep breath, and added, "I may have killed, and I may have a harder heart than others. But I know killing the queen would be wrong, I liked her anyway, and if I had done the deed in truth, I never would have had the heart to face her again," I said, pointing at Lara. "That would be worse than any other punishment. So please, just give me a chance." I sank to my knees and bowed down in order to drive the point home.

Lara still looked amazed, but she managed to choke out two words. "Please, Father…"

He looked down, seeing far past whatever was on the floor. Finally he looked up at (more like through) me and said slowly: "I don't fully trust you. Don't think that for a moment. But…" He shook his head. "I will honor y—my daughter's request. Just return to your room, and do not make any trouble."

"Thank you, Your Highness," I said. I rose to my feet and slowly walked out of the room, making sure not to make any sudden movements. I managed to make it back to my room even though it had been nearly a month since I'd been there and sat down on my bed.

About two minutes later I heard a knock and then the opening of my door.

"Lara, please, I don't want—"

"No, it's me," came General Song's voice. I looked up at him, feeling surprised.

"What is it, General Song?" I asked.

"Ha, so that's what you would call me? No, no, stick with Song."

"Yes, Gen—Song."

"I'm quite shocked that you can speak now. Would you mind recounting the details?"

I saw no reason not to, so I told him everything that happened, from my escape, all the way to my return here. I made sure to leave out the more personal parts, such as the nights that Lara and I shared, but otherwise I told it in meticulous detail.

"That's… quite a tale," he murmured. "But I believe you." He looked at me. "Now then, what do you plan to do?"

"Well, I was hoping to be able to eventually gain permission to leave my room and gather evidence—"

"No," he cut me off, "you misunderstand. What do you plan to do if you get out of this predicament?"

I frowned and held his gaze. "I'm… afraid I still don't understand."

"What are you going to do with your life if you gain the king's favor?"

"I don't know. I'd prefer to get that far, first, before I—"

"No again," he said. "You need to think this through."

"With all due respect, Song, my plan is simple: I gather evidence, I get myself proven innocent, and then I proceed to live my life."

"And do what?" he asked, beginning to sound exasperated. "I know this is a new concept for you because you've always been working for someone, but there's more to life than just serving someone!"

"I'll figure something out. I have to get free, first."

"And then what? You're still not getting this," he said, his voice rising. "What will you do when you are freed? The chance of it is extremely high, so then what?"

"What are you getting at?" I asked, beginning to feel impatient myself.

"That display of initiative was incredible—something I never expected to see from you. But now I know you have the choice of getting pretty much anything you want. So what do you want?"

"To live," I responded.

"You want more than that, or you know what? You never would have left your master's castle, those two months ago. You want more out of life! You want something! You want someo…" He stopped and took a deep breath.

"Alright, listen," he said, his voice holding much less emotion. "Get out of this room—we look alike from the back, so I'll pose as you. Use your stealth and go around to investigate. Get yourself free." He nodded and closed his eyes, as though settling something. "Perhaps after that, you'll be ready to talk."

He threw a cloak at me that would allow me to blend in with the castle walls. Finally, something we were able to agree on. I nodded at him wordlessly and then left my room.

EC: The mute is no longer mute! Alright, listen, I want you guys to realize something—this might be obvious to a few of you, but although Chane could speak ten days earlier, he wouldn't… Because now he found his voice, truly. Not just physically, but mentally as well. He had to speak out.

I actually don't have much to say about this chapter; just that things get even more serious from here. Two more chapters and then we'll be at the final chapter!

Still reeling from the fact that I had just seen Chane speak, I left the room soon after he did and headed straight to my own. It felt good to finally be back home, but I couldn’t rest easy. After all, my father did not seem entirely convinced that Chane was innocent and, worse than that, if no evidence proved Chane’s innocence and/or had someone else pegged as guilty, then the king was likely to kill Chane.
Moreover, Chane had spoken. I seemed unable to wrap my head around that concept. Chane was always the kind of person never to really intrude upon anyone’s business, and I had never envisioned him speaking, let alone speaking out. Yet in his own way, his subtle actions and the gentle way he nudged life’s events without saying a word allowed him to cry out louder than anyone else I had ever met did. He operated by a principle that I suppose would best be described as outspoken silence.
But when he spoke, his words rang louder than Elena’s, mine, or my father’s. I didn’t really believe that Chane was truly aware exactly what he was capable of—perhaps that’s why he took everyone’s interest. He wasn’t conceited or even humble; simply unaware of his potency—he acted genuine, and perhaps that’s what everyone appreciated. Now that he had a voice as well as his actions, there was no limit to where life could take him, so long as he grabbed for it.
One thing that I had to admit was that his voice was, for lack of a better word, amazing. It was somewhat deeper than average and when he wasn’t yelling, it held a soft, lilting rhythm. Every one of his words flowed around me and drew me deeper into what he had to say. The irony that someone who was once mute had the most beautiful voice I had ever heard was not lost on me.
Chane was full of surprises. I was once in doubt about him—never that he was a truly good person; I believed that from the moment I met him and never swayed. But I wasn’t sure if he would ever open up to me. Up until around when we made it to the castle, he seemed to be eternally closed off. Whenever I spoke to him, he seemed to make it clear that he wanted the conversation to end quickly. Whenever I came to him, he seemed as though he was in a rush to be anywhere but near me.
Then everything suddenly changed, at least from my perspective it did. When I came to him that morning and thanked him, he told me that he considered me a friend, too. That made me the happiest I had been in a long time. At first, I was afraid that he was just saying that as a way to manipulate me—I hadn’t meant to be cynical about it, but thus far he had demonstrated a purely logical and calculating nature.
But he saw me nearly every day when he was done with training; he had held me when I cried over my mother’s death; he reminded me every night that there was someone there for me with our customary hand squeeze; and at that meeting he had more or less stated that he didn’t want to be taken away from me.
It made me happy, but it also made me confused. There had been something in my stomach that moved whenever I saw him, but I hadn’t quite figured out what it was. The spasm in my stomach grew more and more powerful the more of these things he did for me. But one day it morphed into something… more. The happy flip in my stomach still happened, but in addition to that, everything was alright whenever he was around. I had no true regrets, it became infinitely easier to smile, and the world faded away. There were those rare moments, but they were definitely there, where we simply understood one another. There was no communication, no body language—nothing was needed. We connected on a level that transcended physicality. When those rare moments came, nothing happened. What that meant became more and more perplexing… but eventually it became very simple—and was never simpler than the moment that he admitted he had wanted to stay.
To get my mind off of Chane’s precarious situation, I began to write a note…
***
I looked at it with relative satisfaction. Now, if anything happened to me, there—
“Augh!”
I heard my father yell even from fifty feet away. I threw the note on my bed and sprinted to the throne room. When I made it there, I shivered and it felt as though I had been frozen. My father was lying on the throne… dead. Blood was spilled on the floor, and he looked up, his eyes permanently open. Next to him was a black figure holding a knife. I was still too shocked to do anything, so I watched helplessly as said figure ran out.
But this was no time to lose myself in grief again. I ran outside and shouted that my father had been killed, and started running in the path that the figure had.
As my mind began to work again, all of sudden many thoughts began connecting.
Chane had stated that he had seen a black figure as he came back to my mother. That person was probably the exact same one who had just murdered my father.
This figure gained absolutely no recognition when my mother had been murdered, and apparently didn’t this time, either. That meant that this person had to have taken off their disguise and, to those around him or her, seemed to have a reason or at least a right to be there.
This person had to be at least influential enough so as not to raise suspicion by being near the throne room. That narrowed it down a lot, but not enough. It wasn’t connecting enough until I suddenly recalled part of the conversation in the throne room.
“I chased the figure but it ran out and she died. That’s it. I didn’t kill her.”
“Then who do you suggest is that black figure?”
Black figure. Chane had never mentioned anything about the coloration, and although it was supposedly logical to assume an assassin was wearing black, that adjective seemed extremely unnecessary.
It couldn’t be, I thought. Elena couldn’t be the killer.
But it all added up. Elena was interrogating him at every turn, and seemed almost desperate to make sure that Chane was declared guilty. I had to face facts—there was no other person who so well fit all of these facts.
Elena had murdered my parents.
Why? That didn’t matter at the moment—I just had to stop her.
I sprinted harder and eventually reached the end of the hall—a place I had never been in the castle before. The doors were open and inside was a mostly empty room and Chane, reading some notebook that I couldn’t recognize. But there was Elena behind him, and she was creeping up, brandishing her knife.
I didn’t have time to think. I ran in and screamed.
“Chane! No!”

I made sure to keep to the walls and crouch down while moving swiftly. The halls were surprisingly empty; occasionally there would be the stray servant or guard that I would have to creep around or take to a nearby empty room, but otherwise I was almost tempted just to walk through the halls. Perhaps many were out to celebrate that the war was over, or others were mourning the loss of their “messiah,” or others still were simply working elsewhere.
It was rather surprising to me that murdering their leader completely annihilated the entire insurrection. Lord Emerald was apparently such a talented leader that people placed all faith in him—I didn’t know whether that made him a good or bad leader, ultimately—without him, people could not function, and he never bothered to instate competent leaders that could take up the mantle.
Then again, they didn’t have a clear reason to fight. Without the man behind them telling them to go on, they no longer had direction.
I left that train of thought and focused on my own predicament. General Song had given me the ability to go out and escape, true, but I had to wonder what exactly I could do with my limited freedom. Gathering intelligence by questioning people was immediately out of the question, for it would, of course, show them that I had escaped when I was more or less under arrest. Therefore, my only option was to find evidence.
But what to gather? It was rather frustrating—nothing had been left upon the scene, and even if anything had, it would have been removed at this point. As far as that room was concerned, the crime had not happened.
As I passed by another corridor, pondering on what my course of action should be, I saw guards coming my way. I quickly slipped around the corner and quietly sprinted as far as I could, until I saw a pillar in the small hall that I could hide behind. Once the guards passed, I got out of my hiding place, stood up, and sighed a breath of relief.
I took a look around the hall and realized that I had never been here before. To my right was a broken window. The air in the hall itself felt stifling, and it was filled with dust, as though no one had been here for a while. Yet, I felt as though I was being watched. I turned around and saw two somewhat imposing double doors. I tried to push them open, but they were locked tight.
Suddenly I remembered the key that Lord Emerald had given me. I pulled it out and looked at the keyhole, then the key, then the keyhole again. I knew the chances were slim, but I had to try. It didn’t even feel relevant to the case at hand, but this key had been bothering me ever since Lord Emerald had given it to me. I gingerly slid the key into the keyhole and twisted to the left and heard a click. Feeling a shockwave of surprise, I pushed at the doors and they easily gave way this time.
I stepped inside and looked around the place. It was relatively empty—only dusty stone floors and an entrance to a balcony, with those doors still open. The only place of interest was a wooden desk and chair tucked in a corner facing the balcony. I then glanced at the ground and saw a bloodied notebook. I picked it up, and the blood was long since dry. It was entitled My Wrongs and My Sins. I slowly opened the book to page one.
April 21st, 1132,
I write this book now because my perdition must be scribed for the ages. I am a damned woman, and surely I will rot in Hell for what I’ve done. I cannot bear to face my crimes among the living, so perhaps someone will discover my wrongdoings after I have died.
I have been married to the king of my nation for about fourteen years now. I sit here and write at the age of thirty-four, with nothing to look forward to but fading away as I become less beautiful. All that lies beyond me is a world full of deterioration and death.
This is my first confession: I do not love the king. He and I spent romantic nights together, and he wooed me with his words; my noble-born family assured me that I would be financially well-off for the rest of my life if I married this man. I bought into his lies and theirs, only to be eternally chained into a marriage that was so impulsive that it was more or less guaranteed to fail.
This brings me to my second confession: I love someone else. He and I have been friends since we were little children. I had always held him close to my heart, and eventually I discovered that I was in love with him. It happened sometime when I was eighteen, but I knew that I had to marry the king… he was a jealous man, and it would not bode well for my love if he were to find out that I chose my love over the king. I shall not write the man’s name here, for risk that this someday becomes discovered. But anyone who looks at the date will know which king I speak of: King Iosias.
It truly is unfortunate, because King Iosias truly seems to love me. I don’t hate him, I even somewhat enjoy his company, but day after day I feel hollow. Moreover, I—
The first entry stopped there. This entry was written about eighteen years ago, so I was able to divine the identity of the writer; Queen Diana was speaking through the ages. It couldn’t have been Queen Athena, for she hadn’t married the king until about a year later. Engrossed, I flipped to the next page and read the next entry.
April 24th, 1132,
I was unable to continue the last entry, for my daughter had come looking for me.
Today, I shall write my third confession: I had sexual relations with my love about two weeks ago, when he came to visit. His and my instinct took over, and we let ourselves go for that one moment, coming together in what could be the last time we would see each other for a long time. We wanted to assure each other that, despite our incarcerating present, our love was still there.
But something extremely unfortunate came as a result. Lately, I’ve come over random bouts of feeling ill. My mood has been more turbulent, and my thoughts have been more clouded.
Which leads to my fourth confession: I am pregnant; worse still, with my love’s baby, not the king’s. But I do not plan to let this child die—this child, unlike my daughter, was conceived out of love. It is worth the risk, as this child shall be lasting proof of where my love and life truly do and forever will lie.
I plan to get my husband in bed soon and then pass that pregnancy off as a child between me and the king. But I do not want this child endangered by staying so close to where he or she would not be welcome. I do not know what I will do, yet, but I have about eight and a half months to plan…
A child? Moreover, one that had never been mentioned? I had never heard of this boy or girl… So they likely died—or “died.”
What does this have to do with me? I wondered. Suddenly I got a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach and hoped that what I was beginning to suspect was not true. The next entry was about nine months later.
January 31st, 1133,
It has been exactly three weeks since I’ve had my child. No one knows his name but my love and I. My child has now been taken away from me…
To which I give my fifth and final confession: I faked his death. I took the baby of a servant girl and killed it, and made it look as though my baby had died when it was born. To the world, the supposed second-born of the royal family is dead. Only my love and I know that he still lives.
I gave birth alone; to make sure that no one would see. It was a risky maneuver, for I could have died as well. But my child was born… My love came that night and took the baby, but not before I forced it to drink a potion that damaged the baby’s vocal cords so it could not cry. I gave my love a duplicate of the key to my study and the reversal potion so that if, by some miracle the two were to meet, my child could regain his voice. Before my child left, though, I cradled him in my arms for a time and smiled, happy that he survived.
I am wrought with grief. I did not want to stop my baby from speaking, but I needed to make sure that my love would not be detected.
I am aware that my love has taken our child to a secure castle and given him to a benevolent noble. But he is ill, and his son seems to be the very antithesis of his father… So I pray that my son can leave that place before the noble dies.
I have confessed everything, but I have one final note…
The dark revelations dawning on me, I could do nothing but keep reading and seeing her final words.
Chane… I hope you are the one reading this. If you are, then I guess that means I’m dead, but... I don’t know what future has led you to come here, but I hope it is one that is worth living in. I hope that your father is still alive, and I hope that you can forgive us for everything that we’ve done. May you become handsome and strong, and may you, too, find someone you can trust… but under better circumstances.
We both love you… and we always will.
That was where it ended. In about one thousand words, my entire past was revealed. I knew my origin, and I knew my parents.
I smiled the most venomous and humorless smile that I ever had, and then I looked up at and through the ceiling and began to whisper.
“You’re welcome, ‘Mother.’ I reunited you with ‘your love.’” I took a deep breath, but the fury continued to burn even hotter in my stomach. “What were you two thinking? How was this logical?”
I shook my head, looked down and forced a laugh. “But, no. Love is a stupid thing. I hope you’re happy up there with each other, because now you’re both gone. You’ve left your child down on this earth. You’ve left him alone.
“But you know what? Fuck you two. I don’t need you. You see that I’m still alive? You’re happy that I have my voice? Well, good for you, but I don’t care. You may be the reason I was forced into this world, but you aren’t what I’d call ‘parents.’ You shouldn’t have done this in the first place.
“Ha,” I whispered hoarsely, forcing out another laugh. “Is this what you call love? No wonder I have always hated the concept. It leaves you with nothing—it takes you away from reality and consumed everything that is useful to you. It makes you a fool.”
I took one more deep breath and then said one more sentence. “So, damn you both, good bye, and I hope I go to Heaven or Hell or nowhere just so I never have to see you two.”
With that, I dropped my hands at my side and stared at the book, no longer seeing words. I had no concept of how long I was there, but all fury, all sorrow, and all emotion whatsoever drained out of me. I was but a body that existed, and nothing more.
When I finally was thinking it was time to get up, I heard a scream.
”Chane! No!”
I turned around just in time to see Lara jump in front of Elena’s descended knife and sink into her stomach with a sickening squelch. Elena stared, surprised, and then yanked the knife out of Lara’s body.
Lara then crumbled to the ground, and a pool of blood began to form around her.

Instinct took over. I dropped to my knees and rolled Lara over onto her back. The wound was deep and was an angry red. Her skin had turned alarmingly pale. I immediately pulled off my shirt and pressed it against the wound, doing my best to slow the bleeding.
“No… No… Don’t…” I whispered.
I looked up and saw Elena raising her knife again. I jumped over in front of Lara, while making sure to keep my shirt pressed on her wound. With my free hand I unsheathed my knife and used it to block her strike. I just barely managed to parry the blow. And the process kept repeating—I was stuck to tending to Lara, so all I could do was stay crouched and block while Elena struck again and again.
But I was beginning to feel my strength ebb away. Every block bought me a couple more precious seconds, but this was clearly an uphill battle. As soon as I could no longer block, I knew it would be all over. If I left Lara, for even a second, she could lose her life; even at this point there was no guarantee that she would live—so I needed to do everything in my power to preserve her life. I would fight for precious seconds as long as I had to. But there was nothing to wait for. I was alone in this; my only help incapacitated due to my careless folly.
My parries became weaker and weaker while her blows just kept coming. Eventually I pushed her back with a push from my blade’s hilt. I jumped on top off Lara’s body and shielded her. I felt the shallow rise and fall of her stomach—at least she was breathing.
“Looks like I’ll die first, Lara. I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“This was inevitable, Chane,” Elena said. “This began all those years ago. And now I shall end it, once and for all.”
I closed my eyes and heard the swish of her blade as she raised it in the air. I resigned to myself to my fate as she brought the blade down.
“Augh!”
The cry was not mine, but Elena’s. An arrow stuck out of her shoulder, and she buckled to the ground temporarily and then she pushed herself to her feet and turned around. Behind her I looked and saw Song with his bow drawn and three guards behind him.
“That’s enough, ex-princess heir,” Song said, his voice dangerously level. “Drop the blade this moment, or my next arrow will be to your heart.”
For a second, she stood frozen, unsure of what to do. As if for some incentive, Song began taking another arrow out of his quiver and took aim at her. Knowing that she faced either incarceration or death, she opted for the former. She dropped her knife and it hit the ground with a resounding clang. Immediately two of the guards ran in and seized her by both arms and dragged her out, presumably to the dungeon.
Song walked over to me. “Oh God, Lar—“
“Shut up and get help! Now!” I yelled. I knew it was incredibly rude but it hardly mattered—every second was pivotal. Song nodded. Without another word, he sprinted out of the room to find assistance.
I watched her stomach rise and fall steadily. She was alive, but every single breath seemed strained, and with every breath she her eyes closed tighter with pain, then relaxed.
I felt helpless. I was so tired of feeling helpless. I couldn’t do anything but try to stop her bleeding—I could only watch as she fought for her life.
My mouth opened and words came out, but I wasn’t entirely sure what I was saying. “I… you can’t do this, you hear? You’re not allowed to die…” I shook my head and gritted my teeth. “I need you… I…” Suddenly all the emotion exploded out of me. “Please! Don’t go! Please!” I yelled. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry for the awful way I’ve treated you! I’m sorry that you’ve put up with me! But please, please, please! Don’t go! You’re the reason I’m here now! I need you! Don’t! Leave! Me! I… I…”
I leaned in and pressed my lips against hers. Anything, I thought. Anything to keep you alive. At my touch she shuddered, took in a deep breath, and opened her eyes just about halfway. She watched me, but she didn’t say anything.
I shut my eyes tight and my voice dropped to a whisper. “I finally understand what you were talking about those months ago.” I kept talking, willing my voice to keep her in this world. “I still think the concept isn’t logical, but that doesn’t matter... Logic isn’t the reason to live… Things like what I feel towards you are…” I took a deep breath, opened my eyes, and our gazes locked. I smiled weakly. “’It’s when you care for someone so much that it almost transcends words. You want to be with them, you would never forsake them, and you just appreciate their very being.’ That’s what you said, right? Well now I, too, will try to contain that feeling in three words.
“I love you.” I paused, and nodded at my own words. “Yes… I love you… I want to always have you at my side, and I want to always be by yours… That is why… Just… Stay alive… Don’t go…”
Her lips broke into a smile, she nodded, and she closed her eyes.
“No! No! Don’t go! Don’t!” I screamed.
At that moment, one of the healers ran in, followed by Song. The healer told me to take my shirt off of her wound. He then took cold wet bandages and applied pressure to her wound. He told me to apply pressure to an artery near her injury, saying that it would stop the bleeding. We stayed there for twenty minutes, and her breathing remained steady throughout the process.
Eventually the healer looked up at me and smiled. “The bleeding has slowed down to a mere trickle. Even if it was close, she’s going to live. It’s a good thing you tended to her right away.”
I let out a long sigh of relief and dropped to the ground. “Thank you…” It didn’t matter to me who I was thanking—I was just thankful for the fact that she was alive.
“Chane,” Song said. I looked up at him. “Go to your room and get some rest.” He saw me start to protest, so he raised his hand and continued. “I know you want to stay with her. But it’s important that you take care of yourself, too. You look like you’re barely able to stand. There’s nothing more you can do. Just go back to your room, lie down in bed, and try to sleep if you can.”
Wordlessly, I nodded and walked out of the room. But even though it was true that I was exhausted, there was still something else I wanted to take care of. Thankfully, my mind was considerably calmer (after that outburst of emotions I felt drained of feeling) so I believe I could handle this well, so I went down to the dungeons and found Elena.
Elena looked to see who it was, then looked away.
“So you were the one who killed the king and the queen,” I said. A statement, not a question, so she didn’t bother with answering it. “That’s not up for debate. But the question is, why?”
“What makes you think I have to answer to you?” she asked bitterly.
“You’re also the spy that had been feeding Lord Emerald information,” I said. Again, it was a statement, not a question. “Lord Emerald said he had been expecting me. Only six people should have known of my task: the king, the queen, General Song, Lara, me, and you. The king is automatically out, the queen died but information was still fed, admittedly General Song doesn’t have a complete alibi but he just stopped you from killing me when that supposedly would have been helpful to the enemy cause, Lara was out of action for three months and information was still fed, and I didn’t even have a part in this war until about a month ago. That just leaves you. Again, why?”
“I’ll say it again: I don’t have to answer you.”
I needed something that she wasn’t expecting—something to shock her out of her recalcitrant act. That’s when I suddenly recalled how my mother’s journal had blood all over its cover. And then I remembered Lara’s words.
“The child couldn't have been more than 13. Having your life taken away from you at that age is enough pain to bear. Better to teach them a lie rather than have them slip forever past the threshold of insanity.”
“Elena,” I began, “do you happen to know what happened to Queen Diana?” I asked. Her focus snapped to me and she stared at with me with a gaping mouth and open eyes. I then knew that I had been right on the mark.
…
…
…
Queen Diana looked at her diary and recited her final entry. She looked at it with a smile and whispered “Someday, Chane. Someday, I know you’ll find this.” She then heard a knocking on the door. She kept the book in hand and opened it up to see her thirteen year old daughter, Elena, looking at her with open eyes. She looked just about ready to cry.
“Mother, it’s not true is it?” She asked as her voice shook and her body swayed. “You… You love daddy, not that man mentioned in the diary, right..?”
The Queen froze for but a moment, and before she could put on a “loving mother” affectation, Elena saw right through her. “You don’t love Father…” The Queen just stood there, unable to do anything. “You don’t love me!” The Queen didn’t say anything to this either. Elena began to unsheathe her dagger. “Then die! I hate you!”
Before the Queen had time to react, Elena struck with her knife and a large gash opened across her chest and stomach. Blood flew out and splattered the cover of her diary. She knew that blow would be the end of her due to blood loss, so she acted quickly. She threw her diary back in the room, and then locked the door. Elena stabbed her in the back twice and the Queen limped over to the nearest window. She punched through it, the glass shards puncturing her hand and causing more blood loss. She threw her key down to the river below, so that no one but Lord Emerald could ever open that door.
Elena struck once more, and this time her blade pierced Queen Diana’s heart. Her eyes went wide, and then she fell backward and crashed through the window, plummeting to the river below.
Elena thought fast. She looked down at her clothes and noticed there was no blood. She took her bloodstained knife and threw it out the now glassless window. She then let out a scream.
“Mother! No!”
“She threw that diary away so I couldn’t prove what she had done,” Elena said angrily. “Even then, I couldn’t have brought it up, because that would bring suspicion upon me.” She smiled wryly. “At least she ultimately lost at her little game.”
A revelation dawned on me, and I shook my head. “No, she won. And you’re the cause.”
“W-what are you talking about?”
I sat down in front of her cell and explained. “They were doomed to be separated in life. But when you killed her, you started this long chain of events that ended with both of them meeting in the afterlife. They’re now able to be together for eternity, and you’re the reason for it.”
“No…” she whispered. But she knew it was true.
“I killed both of Lara’s parents to help my cause,” she said suddenly. “I heard Queen Athena saying that she believed Lara would be a better successor than I would. So I killed her to stop possible opposition when I was meant to be crowned. It was also a good opportunity to frame you and put a stop to your training.” There wasn’t even the slightest note of apology in her voice. “I actually expected you to run, but instead you just went through with your task.
“As for my father... I killed him to stop the investigation from eventually tracing back to me. I didn’t want to leave any chance for being found out. I would be crowned queen and then I would order the halting of the investigation.”
I shook my head. “I don’t understand, though. I thought you loved your father—was killing him worth all that?”
She also shook her head. “I have two things to say to that. First of all, my life takes precedence over that of others. Second, I hate him. He’s part of the reason I’m alive and had to kill my mother for her cheating. That’s also why I started this war; by working together with Lord Emerald because I knew that he hated my father, and figured that if Lord Emerald won, he would kill my father.”
I did a double take at these words, dumbfounded at her sheer ignorance. “Wait, what? No, you didn’t have to kill your mother because she loved someone else. You’re pathetic, you know that?” That shut her up, so I plowed on. “I’m a bastard child, but when I think about it, I wouldn’t kill them because of that.” The truth was strange to face, but suddenly I came to understand my parents. “They loved each other, and they didn’t let the world stop them. Yes, some of the things they did were wrong, but ultimately they did it because they cared for each other.
“I’m not even going to pretend that that’s justification, but at least they had a reason. You just killed your mother because you had issues.” I let out a sigh and shook my head. “You’re seriously messed up. You may think what you are doing is justified, but it’s downright deplorable. A lot of people have problems in their lives, but most of them don’t try to go about solving it by killing people.
“And what if you were crowned, what then? You’d just feel emptiness. You would have killed everyone in your life and you would be alone.”
She just looked at me, unable to speak. But finally, she regained her voice. When she spoke again, it was the voice of a child, afraid to ask a question. “Does that mean this was my entire fault..? From the start?”
Of all the questions that she could have asked, I wasn’t really expecting that. Then I regained my thoughts and answered. “Actually, it’s everyone’s fault. Your father for marrying the queen, our mother and my father for loving each other and acting on that, and yours for all that you did. Everyone held a share of the blame.”
She closed her eyes and nodded. “Thank you… I can’t say I will die happy, but I’ll die with my answer…”
There was nothing more to say, so I turned and walked up the stairs. At the top I met Song. He shook his head and sighed. “I had a feeling that you would be down here.”
He didn’t seem angry, just resigned. Something dawned on me: “How are we going to prove that she’s done all this?”
“We don’t need to,” he said. “We only need to show that she attacked Lara and nearly killed her, and that’s enough to get her executed.”
“But we have nothing to prove that…”
He shook his head. “Well, yes, there’s Lara’s testimony and her wound, but we have no definitive way to do it. But the word of you, me, Lara, and three guards will be enough to satisfy everyone.”
“I see…” I began to walk away, but then I turned back and called out to him. “I’ve figured out what you meant by having something in mind for my future,” I said. I smiled at him warmly. “Thank you for helping me realize what I’ve avoided.”
He smiled and nodded, and then we parted ways.
I reached my room and sat down on my bed. “And you two, as well,” I said. “Thank you for leaving this future for me. I may not totally agree with what you did, but I’m glad to exist. So thanks for not letting this world get in the way of your love.”
With that, I collapsed into my bed and fell asleep.
I woke up at what I assumed was a few hours later, as when I looked toward my balcony, stars dotted the twilight sky. To my surprise, Lara was leaning over, resting her arms on the edge of the balcony. She was wearing a clean, white dress which made it so that she almost looked like another one of the stars in the sky.
“Lara…” I started, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”
She turned around and winced a little as she did so. “It hurts a little, but I’ll be alright. The bleeding was the part to worry about.”
I walked up to her and leaned my arms against the balcony railing as well and we both watched the stars in silence for a moment.
“I remembered all of that, you know. Down to your last word before I closed my eyes,” she said.
“Is that so..?” I asked quietly. “Can you tell me this? Why did you take the blow for me? Why didn’t you just knock her out of the way?”
She laughed weakly and held her wound as she did. “I didn’t have time to think. I guess…” she hesitated, searching for the right words.”I guess I was more focused on stopping you from dying than stopping her from killing you, if that makes sense…”
I nodded. “In a way, it does. But why save me, after all I’ve done?” I turned to face her, and she turned to face me.
“Remember that letter I wrote to you when I was trying to run away from Lord Luke’s castle? I still believe what I said—that you do have a kind heart beyond the exterior you have tried to present.” She smiled warmly. “I meant what I said earlier today, too—that you are one of the most virtuous people I’ve ever met.” She frowned and nodded. “You killed Lord Luke to save my life—I’m not saying that to assert that I’m important, but merely that if I hadn’t been in danger, you would never have attempted to escape.”
“Yes…” I whispered. “I tried to run for it because as far as I knew, emotion would only bring pain and loss.” I took a step closer to her, so that we were within arm’s length. “But thanks to you, I now know I was missing the point. Life isn’t all about reason—that would be empty. Sometimes, I just have to throw logic away and feel. You may have saved my life today, but you saved my life every day. You gave me reason and helped me realize the hollow existence I resided in. But now I am alive.”
“And now you know that feeling that I talked to you about,” Lara said. “Now you know what love is… When my father died, I was ready to give up, feeling so devoid of love. But in the moments where I was about to die, you reached out your hand and reminded me that I was still not alone.” She smiled and looked away for a moment, blushing slightly. She looked back at me. “Maybe that’s what makes me happiest of all—that the person I love more than anything also loves me.”
Then there were no words. We could both speak, but neither needed to. We were back on that wavelength during that night where I held her. We understood each other to the point where words felt superfluous. With nothing left to say, we closed our eyes, leaned in…
And my third kiss was our true first. Warmth exploded in my stomach, and I finally understood what it was.
My love had been physically manifesting itself in me whenever I was with her. It was always with me, and I always ran from it, for fear of it being the end of me. But now I knew that it was something to greet with open arms. It was part of the reason life was worth living—having someone by your side. Someone to laugh with, smile with, cry with, kiss, hug, and generally just be with.
There was a mess out in that world. All of the royal family but Lara was dead. A good portion of the nation laid out in ruin due to this war. An easy solution didn’t seem as though it was going to present itself soon.
But it didn’t matter. Lara had me to help her and I had Lara to help me. We were going to get through this. We were going to rebuild this tattered nation and restore the people to full satisfaction and happiness, to the very best of our abilities.
And right now, in this moment, I knew we would get through it all.
Because although there were guaranteed to be more hard times in our lives, there would also be invaluable moments like these. Moments like these that reminded us of the reason that we tried so hard to persevere. Times like those paled in comparison to the joy that these moments brought.
Times like those were ephemeral. Moments like this are eternal.
The End

Instinct took over. Fury coursed through my veins, rage engulfed my soul. Elena was no longer a person. She was an it; it was the force that might have taken Lara away from me. For that, I was going to make her wish that she never even considered striking Lara down.
I jumped up and sprinted over, unsheathing two daggers as I let out a feral roar. I slashed down with both, and she just barely managed to dodge. I began an unending flurry of blows; every time she parried them, but I felt her strength quickly withering under each of my hate-filled strikes. With every movement of my blade I pushed her further and further back until she was pressed against the wall. I struck again and created a deep gash in her side. She cried out as blood spilled to the floor. She dropped her blades out of reflex and sunk to the floor.
“You’re really no different from me,” she panted, smiling humorlessly. “You take down the people you despise because they impede your progress. You’re just a—“
But I didn’t want to hear her voice any more. I crouched down and struck as quickly and venomously as a serpent, my blades digging lustily into her flesh until only the hilts were visible. I lifted her up into the air, and then yanked my blades to the side, digging out more flesh until they finally reached the ends of her body. Blood splattered across the walls as well as my clothing. She plummeted to the ground without a word.
At that moment, Song and three other guards came in. I ignored them and ran over to Lara while crying her name. Crouching down next to her, I noticed how truly desolate her state was. Her skin had turned so pale that she was almost transparent. Her blood spread out through the floor, and her breathing was dangerously shallow. I gingerly reached out my hand and stroked it against her cheek. At this, she turned her head over and looked at me—or she would, if her eyes weren’t closed.
She smiled wanly. Then she sighed and moved no more.
All feeling left me. I was a hollow shell. At the touch of my hand, her spirit had left her body.
“Perhaps if immediate care had been rendered to her, she would have survived. But the blood loss was too much…” Song said quietly.
I didn’t even look at him as I sprinted out of the room. No one tried to stop me. I headed up the roof of the castle and looked outward.
More than Lara had just left me as she died. But I believed it wasn’t over yet. I wasn’t going to see her among the living, and thus…
I closed my eyes and jumped off the roof, arms outstretched and fell.
But a mere second later I hit something hard. My entire body ached at the collision. I slowly opened my eyes and stood up. I was on a balcony. I looked behind me and saw a familiar bed. Lara’s balcony.
I looked up at the sky or God or whatever was up there and bared my teeth. “Is this… your idea of a joke?”
I felt my legs weakening and I slowly lowered to the ground. “Am I just a cosmic plaything?” My knees hit stone and I lowered my head. “Why…” I slammed my hands to the floor as something extremely unpleasant stirred inside of me. “Why…”
I felt something hot slide down my face. And then another, and another. I noticed these drops hit the floor near my hands. I looked up at the sky, and it wasn’t raining. I touched my hand to my eyes and felt that something was dripping from them. I had never believed life would come to something like this. I looked up to the sky and yelled at the top of my lungs.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”
The tears’ pace turned from a gradual stream to a torrential flood. “Why!? Why am I the one that lives! Everyone in my life is gone! Gone!”
I started pounding the cement floor with every word I spoke. “Is this why I was freed!? To experience all of this!? God damn it! What have I done to make you angry!? To open me up to this inevitable pain!”
It was true. In the end of all ends, pain was all that opening myself up had brought. I had opened up, curious to what made people so motivated. I had never known true pain or loss beforehand, and now I would be forever subject to...
To loss. “I did this all in memories’ sake… That damn man… I did this for…” I did it all for Lara, and now she was gone…
To despair. “I sit here and write at the age of thirty-four, with nothing to look forward to but fading away as I become less beautiful. All that lies beyond me is a world full of deterioration and death.” Without Lara, what did I have to look forward to? Absolutely nothing. Only a life wrought with emptiness.
To hatred. “You’re really no different from me. You take down the people you despise because they impede your progress.” From the very beginning, I’ve killed because people were obstacles. Now the third life I have taken was due to the death of Lara. Now I am doomed to a life where I shall trust no other, and despise anyone who comes near.
To make it worse, it was my entire fault. If I had just taken care of Lara immediately after she had been stabbed, she might have lived. Worse still, it was still my fault that she was stabbed in the first place—if I had been more alert and struck Elena down immediately, then Lara would never have jumped in front of that blade.
I felt the tears finally stop—it seemed as though I was unable to cry anymore. I got up and walked through Lara’s bedroom, unsure truly of where I was going to head now that I had no drive. As I passed by her bed I noticed a small piece of paper that was folded up.
I took it with the care that one uses when handling fragile items, and slowly unfolded it. It seemed a note that was addressed to herself.
I had always been wondering since I met him. I’d always pondered over just what exactly this once mute man truly meant to me. Today I heard him speak, and it was the voice of someone honest and true to his principles.
Cold and calculating was the first impression I had of him when he and I met those months ago. But soon enough I noticed a certain tenderness within him. I think the best way to describe the way he appeared to me was afraid. He always hid himself from others, but perhaps it was because he was so afraid of opening up. At that moment, I knew that I’d have a lifelong, genuine friend that I could trust if I just managed to break his shell and show him that he could trust me just as well as I could trust him.
But when he called me a friend, my heart immediately called out for more. I was in a state of doubt for the longest time, and these feelings became more confused when he held me on the night that my mother died. I didn’t completely understand what I felt. But today, my feelings have never been more clear.
I love him. I think I understand why I’ve been running away from this feeling for so long—because I was always afraid that he was incapable of the feeling ever since I first told him about love. But whatever was demonstrated in that throne room, he proved that he wanted to stay here because of me. Me!
I want to tell him someday. I just don’t know when. But I wrote this down to immortalize my love. To remind myself someday, however far away that is, that I know who he is, no matter when my mind might be in doubt. I merely have to remember this: I love him because of who he is. I always will, because he is the most incredible person I have ever had the blessing to meet.
And there, the note ended. I reread it once more, and one more time after that, puzzled by the words. Even though Lara had died not even an hour ago, it was as though she were speaking her last words to me now.
That’s when I came to my sense. I walked back out to the balcony and looked up at the sky. Countless stars as well as the moon decorated the atmosphere. There was the darkness of the night, but there was also that which was bright. Because of that I felt…
Determination. “There’s always a goal. As long as you keep moving forward towards that goal, it doesn’t truly matter if the world is falling apart around you. At least you still have drive. It’s reason enough.” I had to keep moving, even if Lara was dead. But even then…
Happiness. “It’s nice to know you have someone to count on. Knowing I always will have my husband by my side makes me feel safe. Simply being with him makes me feel happy…” Indeed, she was gone, but as I remembered the times I spent with her, warmth still radiated in my stomach and chest.
Love. “I love him because of who he is. I always will, because he is the most incredible person I have ever had the blessing to meet.” Yes…
Lara was dead, but our love would never die. No amount of space, worlds, even planes could take that away from us. It didn’t matter where she was now. We still both felt what we felt. And I…
“Love you,” I whispered, finished my thought. “I love you, Lara…” I was answered by a gentle breeze caressing my skin.
It had been selfish—so willing to give my life up when she had just given up hers to save mine. Beyond the lack of reasoning I had for killing myself other than her death, it would also make her death in vain. That would have been the worst disservice I could possibly have done to her.
A lot of awful things had happened. All of the royal family was eliminated—there was no one to lead what had become a nation ravaged by the civil war. More immediate to me, the girl I loved and would always love was gone.
I couldn’t bring it in myself to smile, given the circumstances. But knowing that Lara felt that way was enough for me to keep going, at least at that point. And I wasn’t dead. Even when I tried to do it myself, I couldn’t die. So something was telling me that even if everyone else was gone, it wasn’t my turn. Not yet.
I guessed it didn’t really matter what the world meant for me. Did it really matter why I was here? Was there really an answer as to what I should do? No and maybe, respectively. Those who were lucky found their own answer in life, and I had found mine: I would live life the way that I desired. With the loss of Lara came the sudden and immediate gain of empathy.
There were families out there who had lost those close to them. Others had lost their homes, others too were simply in despair. Now that I understood that feeling and how abhorrent it was, I wanted to help them. Maybe it wasn’t so much that I cared for them, but that I understood the feeling that many of them had. That was the life I would decide to live. It was my answer.
As I nodded and walked out of the room, I found Song looking at me, completely surprised to find me.
“Gather the people of the capital around the castle, Song,” I said. “We have a kingdom to rebuild.”