"Now I want you to count back from ten," the cold voice said.
"No! That's my brain!" he heard the words, desperation thick in them being torn from his lips. But his traitorous mind began to count, just not in the way the doctor wanted him to.
One
He was very young, seven, at the oldest, the first time he saw her. She had been playing in the mud and her lavender dress was far more brown than the pretty purple shade it had been at the start of the day. Her sleek black hair was wild and around her face caught up in a mess of twigs and leaves that looked ironically like a crown. Her eyes were dark, bright an intelligent, the opposite of the little girl next to her with the wide, vacant blue eyes. She regarded him suspiciously and he was suddenly very aware of how ill fitting the formal cloths were that his father insisted he wear. Still, she seemed to be looking past the cloths and the fact his own black hair was in complete disarray. She seemed to be looking right into his soul. He shifted his feet and looked down at the marble floor before risking a glance back up at her before looking down again just as quickly.
"Azkadellia," the Queen beckoned, "come down here and say hello to Ambrose, Ambrose this is my daughter Azkadellia."
No title, he barely realized, no formality and she did nothing to change that. She simply walked forward and stuck her hand out, not for him to kiss, he realized, but for him to shake, like the Knights did, like they were equals. He shook her hand, possibly the only clean part of her. And then she smiled, a small little smile that seemed to light up her eyes like they were gems. He immediately returned the smile, deciding that he liked seeing her smile, it made her seem not quite so scary.
Two
He's a bit older, not necessarily wiser, when she storms into his rooms. Her eyes are blazing with unmistakable anger and he feels something stir in his gut as she begins to pace around his room, her hands balled into fists. He doesn't ask her what's wrong, he can tell she needs to spew words like angry lava. Her mother recently forbid her from using magic as punishment and actual fighting is forbidden for a Princess so she's only left with words at the moment. Instead he sits back and enjoys the way her hair streams behind her and the lacy dress poufs out every time she spins on her heel.
"They're making me learn to dance!" she finally gets out stopping right in front of him.
"So?" he asked, "dancing's not so bad."
"You know how to dance?" she demanded.
"You don't?" he retorted with mock-disbelief, "aren't you a Princess?"
"I wish I wasn't," she said resuming pacing, "DG doesn't have to learn to dance, DG just gets to practice magic all day long with Tutor but I need to learn to dance! How to eat right, how to talk to people," she spun around, "it's not fair!"
"Well I don't know the other stuff but I can help you with dancing," he said running a hand through his messy hair, "if you want."
"Would you Ambrose?" she said, her eyes lighting up.
"Sure," he said with a shrug, "it's easy, rhythm is in your soul. People can take your brain but they can't take your soul."
"People can't take other people's brains," she said.
"They can too," he said, "its what they do to evil people in the dungeons."
"But you're not evil," she said, "you're the nicest person I know! I would never let anyone take your brain," she said firmly, "I promise."
Three
He's packing up to leave for school and she's been acting weirder and weirder. He assumes its one of those girl-things his dad won't tell him about but mutters about his mother when they fight. Even so, he's packing up the last of his trunks and looking rather mournfully around his empty room, wondering if its such a good idea to be going when he sees her in the doorway. She walks in like she's scared of something, her eyes firmly on the ground. They're both very young still, he's probably too young to be going far away to school and she's too young to be saying goodbye to her best friend but here they are anyway. She closed the door behind her and suddenly, for the first time in a while, they're alone.
"What's wrong Az?" he asked finally, his voice timid.
"What's wrong?" he prepared himself for a whiplash, "what's wrong?! You know for someone so smart you can be really really--" she searched for the right word, "really dumb sometimes! You must have a glitch in your brain that makes you be like that!"
He looked up carefully and felt his heart tug. She had tears rolling down her cheeks, not just in anger. She bit her lip but the tears kept coming, yet she still managed to glare furiously at him. He swallowed thickly and walked forward. She stayed glued to the spot, as if proving that she did not need him. Finally they were toe to toe and almost nose to nose. Her dark eyes locked on his and she looked away quickly, choking the sob in her throat back furiously. He wasn't sure what to do, he only knew that he didn't want to see her cry.
So, rather desperately, he pressed his lips to hers. Their eyes stayed open, it was more a colliding of lips than an actual kiss. Her tears made it very salty too but it was a kiss, the first for both of them. Their eyes were locked in on each other, neither really sure what to do. Finally the lack of oxygen made them pull apart. He opened his mouth, figuring that she was going to yell at him. At least she had stopped crying now, the tears frozen on her cheeks. When she still didn't move he reached out and brushed them from her cheeks with his thumbs.
"I'll write you," he promised, "I'll see you soon Az," he turned back to the trunks but she tugged his wrist and their lips collided again. This time when she pulled back, she smiled rather brilliantly.
"You'd better write me," she said, "bye Ambrose."
Four
She's possessed the next time he sees her. They both know it because it's after she's 'killed' DG. Somewhere inside him, he knows the Queen looks too old to simply be a grieving mother. She cried but he knows those tears are not just for DG. Azkadellia was not frozen, outwardly she was angry but inside something else was happening. He could tell, he could always tell. She didn't look at him once during the funeral or the somber memorial afterwards. She just looked at the grave in angry disbelief, as if she was not really sure that her sister was in there. He kept trying to walk over to her but she wouldn't stay still long enough for him to catch up. He finally found her in the garden maze, staring at a bush as if by glaring she could kill it.
"Az," he began.
"Its Azkadellia," she said, "no-one calls me Az anymore."
"Azkadellia," he conceded.
They were both in that odd phase where they were becoming teenagers. He had suddenly lost the ability to talk to any girl, much less her and she had other things on her mind then boys. So he just walked over to her and sat down next to her, barely close enough for her to feel the heat of his body. When she didn't hit him or run, he scooted a little closer until their arms were touching. Finally he reached down with his hand and took her own, his fingers interlacing with hers. She looked down at their joined hands and took a slow, shaky breath. He though it was from anger but the next one came out as a sob, and then another and suddenly she was crying harder than he'd ever seen her. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, letting her sob into his jacket.
"I'm so scared," she sobbed out, "I'm dying Ambrose, I can't stop it," she sobbed harder, her words becoming less than audible, "I can't do anything, she's winning and I'm not going to make it!"
"She won't win," he said automatically, not even sure what she was talking about, "you just have to keep fighting."
"I can't!" she sobbed.
"Yes! Yes you can, you're the strongest person I know Az. I'll find a way to save you, I promise."
For that one moment in the garden maze, it's Azkadellia and Ambrose, no Witch, no nothing.
Five
He's been true to his word and writes her letter after letter from school in his neat handwriting. He tells her about his studies, he tells her about the other students, he tells her about himself and the things he wants to invent one day. She doesn't reply but he promised to write her and he keeps his promises. He knows that if she could write him, she would. What he doesn't know is that the letters he sends are possibly the only thing that keeps her from just giving up. The Witch gets stronger every day and she's a little closer to dying but every time the envelopes come with his handwriting she thinks she can hold on for a little longer. The Witch takes his brilliant ideas and warps them into her own twisted inventions and while she does that, Azkadellia devours the rest of the letters, when he talks about himself and asks how she is. He doesn't sign them love or anything like that but 'Your Friend', as if he knows that's what she needs more than anything else.
Six
She kills his father. His mother had died a while back but she kills his father in a twisted and warped act of love for him. Or the Witch does, but its becoming harder and harder to tell whose who in the body. Anyway his father is dead and that's what brings him back, never to leave again. The palace is somber, too somber to just be because of his father's death when he gets back for the first time. He's a man now, young but he's an adult and he knows things that he didn't before, like its going take a lot more than some invention to save Azkadellia. Still he's back because he promised he would take over his father's position, he just didn't think it would be so soon.
He settled back into his rooms very quickly, too quickly. He was desperate to not sit still, to not think about what he was going to say when he saw Azkadellia again. He loved her he knew that much, but he did not know how he could love her still after what she had done. So he did everything as fast as he could and helped the Queen as often as he could, so he wouldn't have to stop and think about what he was doing and what he was going to say to her if she ever managed to get him in a situation where he actually had to talk to her.
He managed to avoid her for over a month, just catching glimpses of silk or ebony hair but never seeing the whole picture. He told himself that he was doing a good job, that he was helping the Queen by avoiding her daughter. The Queen, however, was still a mother and could be blinded by love for the daughter she may not have had anymore. So one day he went into the throne room and saw she was there. He stubbornly refused to meet her eyes until the Queen told him that he was now Azkadellia's bodyguard since people seemed to be constantly getting hurt or dying around her. And then he felt the world end when the Queen finished the sentence by saying that he would also be wed to her.
Seven
He was staying up late that same night, hunched over his desk working furiously on an invention that did not seem to want to be created. The door opened and shut. He had no doubt who it was, anyone who was trying to kill him would have just come through one of the open windows. He sighed and put down his writing instrument before standing up and turning to face Azkadellia. He knew she was beautiful but it was still a shock to think that something so beautiful could be quite so evil. He swallowed thickly at her appearance. He was in his nightcloths, loose pants and a short-sleeved shirt. She was in a long, silky shirt open to just below her breasts and a long loose skirt that played around her bare feet. Her black hair hung down her back in a dark curtain.
"Your Highness, I mean Azkadellia--" he stumbled over his words, sounding like an idiot rather than someone who was the Queen's chief advisor.
"When did you become so formal?" she asked raising one dark eyebrow, "you always used to call me Az," she shrugged carelessly, causing the shirt to slip down one shoulder, "silly nickname really," she sighed, "Azkadellia is fine," he nodded as her long fingers played across one of the chairs, "and what's this."
"Its--ah--nothing," he said stepping in between her and the design.
"Nothing?" she asked, "oh Ambrose, you know I hate secrets," she said leaning until she was a hair's breath from him, "more than anything."
He would later tell himself that he just didn't want her to see the half-finished design for the machine, even though it was nothing more than a few lines on paper at the moment. But no matter the reason he kissed her. It was not like their first, tear-soaked kiss, but something drastically different. He was a much better kisser now and she seemed to have learned a trick or too as well because she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back just as passionately. They almost danced across the floor towards the bed. She slid back onto it, he slid on top of her taking his weight onto his forearms. It didn't matter what she had done, or maybe it mattered too much but the feel of her lips on his, her arms around his neck, it felt like coming home.
It was sick and twisted but he couldn't stop it anymore than she could. Sometime in the middle of it, a single tear slid down the side of her face. He kissed it away, murmuring an apology and imagining for a small moment that somewhere deep inside, the Azkadellia he fell in love with was still fighting with everything she had against whatever was enslaving her. Then her lips were against his again and the world just sort of floated away.
Eight
He was waiting at the foot of the stairs as they were about to be announced as officially betrothed. He was wearing a dark red coat that made him almost blend with the wallpaper in case he needed to get out quickly to protect her. She appeared at the top of the stairs and he stopped. Her dark eyes held a measure of uncertainty in them. Her dress was more demure than it had been, her hair was swept completely off her back. She looked like the Azkadellia he loved, not the Witch. She descended the staircase and looked up at him with wide, almost fearful eyes but he bent down and kissed the back of her hand before leading her onto the dance floor.
They had learned to dance together (so he had taught her), when they were children and knew how to move together. Her dress was almost bare in the back, his palm like fire against the skin right above her lower back. He looked down at her and she looked up at him. The movements were fluid and graceful, like second nature to the two of them. Which was good because it was not long before he opened his mouth.
"Is it--" he began but she nodded quickly cutting him off.
"I don't think I can hold on much longer," she said looking up at him, "I think she's letting me say goodbye to you."
"Az," he began, looking away as his eyes burned, "don't say that," he said, his voice thick with emotion.
"You think I want to?" she demanded, "if this is the last chance I get to say--" she stopped "I want to say goodbye if I can."
"You aren't going anywhere," he said firmly.
"Yes I am," she said, "I've been fighting for so long but there's nothing left," she closed her eyes tightly, "not anymore. You need to help my mother," he opened his mouth, "you have to stay by her side, no matter what. I'd ask you to kill me--"
"No," he burst out.
"I thought not," she sighed, "then you have to fight me, "horror crossed his face, "please, Ambrose--Glitch, whatever you want to be called just fight me. You have to stop me, for the good of the OZ. It's not going to be me in here, not anymore," he shook his head and looked at the smiling faces, feeling anger well up in him.
"This isn't fair," he said, "I just got you back and you're--" he stopped, unable to continue.
"I know but you have to, promise me you'll be with mother, no matter what."
"For as long as I can be, I promise," he said.
She nodded and smiled up at him, like she had when they first met, the smile that went all the way through her eyes.
"Did I ever tell you how much I love your smile?" he said. She blushed rather furiously, "when we first met and you were in that dirty lavender dress, I was so scared of you and then you smiled and i think it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen."
"You didn't get beautiful until you learned to fix your hair," she said dryly. He made a face and she laughed merrily, "I'm joking, even with your cloths to big when I first met you I couldn't take my eyes off you."
"You're making me blush," he said.
"I like making you blush," she said.
"I will find a way to fix this," he said, "even if I have to go to the other world your father came from, I'll get you back," she opened her mouth, "don't say anything, just know I'll never stop fighting for you," she nodded and leaned up.
Their lips touched and they deepened the kiss, whispering 'I love you' against each other's lips. She made a soft sound and when they pulled away, he looked into her eyes that had gone cold. He knew she was gone and something deep inside of him cracked.
"What were you saying?" she asked.
"That you look beautiful," he said.
Nine
"I'm sorry my Queen," he said bowing deeply. The Queen looked away in sadness but said nothing as Azkadellia walked forward.
"Take them," she ordered.
Almost instantly he found himself in a dark cell, bars in front of his face. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head against the bars, wishing there was some kind of physical pain to take away the ache in his chest. He swore to stay with her mother for as long as he could but the Queen was gone. He swore to fight against her and now she had won. There was nothing really left to fight for, not anymore. The days blended together as time ceased to exist outside of his three walls and the bars of his cell. Then, one day, the door opened and she walked inside, dismissing the guards with a wave of her hand.
"Tell me about the Sun Seeder," she said, "I red about it in this," she held up one of the letters, "but I can't find the plans anywhere."
"I destroyed them," he said crossing his arms.
"Why would you go and do a stupid thing like that?" she demanded, "you really must have a glitch in your brain," she smirked, "well no matter, I'll take what I can get."
"What?" he gasped, horror in his face.
"You heard me," she signaled the guards, "take him," she snapped her fingers, "I'm sorry Glitch but this is the only way."
"You don't mean that,"he got out, "you're not sorry."
"No," she said, "I'm not."
She followed them down the corridor to the medical lab. At the doorway she stopped, facing him. He was held back by three guards, one holding a zap rod that he had invented, even if that was not its original intention. She looked over at the medical technician before glancing back at him and then turning away.
"Take everything," she said, "all his memories past the basics," she said, "I don't want him to remember anything."
"Wha--no!" he cried, "don't do this, please! Az!" she walked over, touching his lip with her finger and lowering her voice so that he could barely hear her, "don't do this," he begged before his voice was cut off.
"It's better this way," she said, "you were nice to me, consider it my parting gift to you, you can just hate me and forget this foolish romance."
"It was not foolish," he hissed, "you old bat! You let her go!"
"Hush now," she put her lips to his ear so that only he could hear her, "this will kill her even faster, knowing you hate her. I'll make sure she knows it."
"No!" he screamed desperately, "no!" then the guards were pulling him into the operating table.
Ten
He was drowning. People were scrambling and a voice was begging him to hold on, not to die. He frowned, he was not going to die. And then everything went white. First he could hear.
"What do you want us to do with the brain?"
"Is it preserved?"
"Of course."
"Keep it that way, if its damaged at all you will suffer a fate far worse than death."
"What about Ambrose?"
He heard nothing but silence for a moment, Ambrose? What an odd name. Was he Ambrose? He couldn't remember and felt panic burst through him. Something started to beep loudly and he heard people scrambling before the threatening voice ordered them out.
"Glitch," the voice said, "your name is Glitch. You need to calm down so one day you can make this alright," he breathed in deeply, trying to calm down, "the door is unlocked, you need to get out of here and run as far and fast as you can alright? Take the third staircase from the right, its unguarded. Go tonight, do you understand me?"
"Yes," he said.
"Good."
There was the softest touch of a pair of familiar lips on his own. He wished he could remember those lips, he knew them from somewhere but he didn't know where. Squeezing his eyes shut he forced them open. He was on a hospital bed, a clean one thankfully. His head was throbbing but there was no time to think about that. He grabbed the cloths and stopped. Where was he supposed to go or do? He glanced down and saw there were orders written on his hand. He yanked on the cloths and shoved the money into his pocket before running out the door, down the third staircase and into the night. All around him the world was coming down but he kept running down the brick route.
He touched his cheek and frowned.
He didn't remember crying.
Okay so that's the story. Two songs that inspired it were:
Apologize (Timbaland feat. OneRepublic) - basically the whole story
So Close (Jon McLaughlin) - the ball scene
