She could see his defenses were strong. He had made many sacrifices, but none out of neglect or insignificance. The queen was safe from harm, and the main concern shifted to the prevention of more lost men. However, there was no holding back, even if she posed no absolute threat to him. Patience was indeed an essential virtue, as was strategy and intuition. He used these virtues to his advantage, meticulously waiting for the apt moment to improve on strength and turn to the offensive. One decision could inherently jeopardize everything, but he appeared to be confident. He made his move swiftly, with no hesitation.

"Checkmate."

"Huh? But I-" Amelia's shock was only halfhearted, she had unfortunately anticipated this outcome four moves ago, but despite her tremendous struggle to avoid it, he managed to fend off her every move.

"Now, now, Amelia, don't tell me you're a sore loser!"

"Of course not, grandfather, but please, tell me how you do it!"

He shook his head and laughed, this not being the first time she's lost to him. "I've taught you everything I know, simply logic and strategic likelihoods. You only need to apply it," then he smiled, his wrinkled eyes radiating playfully. "And for a twelve year old, I can barely keep up. Your parents would be proud."

She twirled a strand of hair that escaped from its plait, lacking the knowledge on how to respond to the mention of her parents. Unless her granddad had been missing the past couple of years, he would know that proud was the last thing they would be. After mulling it over she realized he was trying, as always, to cheer her up. Should she smile, or thank him? But if she didn't believe him, why bother with the fake courtesy? So she said nothing, keeping her eyes trained on the Staunton chess set in front of her.

"Amelia..."

She made an odd noise that sounded like a sigh.

"Look at me, Amelia."

Amelia placed her hands on her lap, blinked, and obeyed. Arguing would be trifle and pointless. Besides, she respected her grandfather, he seemed to understand her.

He was suddenly serious, looking at her with astonishingly intense eyes. "You have to forgive your parents. They weren't thinking rationally."

Amelia said nothing, still, and stared up in his direction. Through her bangs she could see her granddads study surrounding him. There were books upon books, on shelves, desks, sometimes finding places to pile up on the floor, just about anywhere. He also had an affinity for plants, the greenery was scattered about the study. Basically her grandfather's study was a mix between a greenhouse and a library. She blinked, taking in his frowning yet gentle face.

He leaned closer, lowering his voice to a wistful rasp. "Wouldn't it be the logical thing to do? Don't make the same mistakes my son made. But-" he smiled bitterly, "-I suppose it's my fault for not raising him right."

Amelia's eyes snapped open wide "No! It's not your fault!" she exclaimed.

He chuckled, making Amelia feel terribly naive and small. Like a child. She didn't like it.

"Duly noted. But, it's nice to know I made the correct choice with you, Amelia." His warm tone returned and he leaned back into his chair with a throaty sigh.

Her eyes dropped at the compliment. She began to pack away her chess board into her messenger bag. "Thank you, grandfather."

"Not a problem. Chess is an enlightening game, is it not?"

"No. Well, I mean, yes, but-"

He held up his hand. Of course he understood.

"I'll see you in a week. Your room should be furnished by Saturday."

She dipped her head slightly in agreement, standing from the uncomfortable chair. The cushion on it was hard and flat, so she was somewhat grateful to be stretching her legs again. From there she put on her coat, the material wrinkling around the elbows. Her grandfather watched with a hint of sadness as she adjusted it, threw her bag over her shoulder, and left the room.

"Oh, and Amelia?"

She stopped short to glance over her shoulder, narrowly missing a hanging plant.

"Good luck."

She smiled and softly closed the double doors. After the silent click, she heard her granddad let out a pained sigh.

"They've changed her..."

Amelia's heart dropped. She stood there thoughtfully with her fingertips pressed up lightly against the ornate wood doors. Changed her?

She left her grandfather's house feeling nervous. How irrational of her to be nervous, but she couldn't help it. She walked at a leisurely pace down to the bus stop, which was conveniently placed not too far. The only thing different about walking this familiar path was her anxiousness. Today was her first competition, and it wouldn't have bothered her (she had been playing chess for years) had it not been for the very reason that she was going alone. Grandfather couldn't leave his house; his condition prevented him from doing so. She was truly by herself. Taking the bus alone would be a first for her as well, now that her mother couldn't drive her anywhere. So, sitting calmly at the bus stop as still as possible proved to be a difficult task on that particularly foggy day in London. She passed the time people watching, occasionally eavesdropping on their conversations.

"Oh, yes, I've met him, in fact. Notorious musical composer, Oswald Whistler. It was a terrible tragedy hearing about his daughter. I hope it doesn't affect his ability to play such...vivacious music." Amelia could tell the woman to her left was lying. She bragged as if to dare anyone to question the veracity of the acclaimed story.

Her companion could obviously tell too. Either that or she had been talking endlessly enough to irritate him. He gave her an uninterested, sarcastic remark. "Doubt it will." He said. Then he raised his hands to shrug in exasperation. "But who knows?"

"Yes, well-oh. Here comes the bus."

Amelia glanced up, a feeling of dread overwhelming her. The bus came to a hissing stop, and she stood. She took a tentative step toward the open doors, waiting until every person in front of her got on first. Her heart pounded furiously.

"Amelia!"

One by one she climbed the steps, gripping the railing for support. The doors closing shut behind her felt like they were sealing her in.

Thankfully, finding a seat didn't take long, the bus was fairly empty. As soon as she sat everything lurched forward, scenes in the window moved slowly before gaining speed. Then something caught her eye.

She stood up immediately, shouting, "Stop the bus! Please!"

"But, miss-"

She began to work her way up the aisle, timing her steps with the bumps along the way. "I won't be long...please!"

The driver muttered something incoherent under his breath, rolled his eyes, and complied. "Suit yourself..."

She all but jumped down the steps and onto the sidewalk, ignoring the complaints she heard from other passengers.

"A-Amelia..."

"Grandfather! What are you doing?"

The poor old man was doubled over, panting, and exhausted. "I needed to..."

"You must go home, you shouldn't be out here! What were you thinking?"

She was tearing up. Her grandfather grabbed her hand with his own feeble one causing her to silence.

"I needed to give this to you...it's somewhat of a...family heirloom. It will help you."

Her eyes opened wide in awe as he shakily placed an old, wooden chess piece in her hand. That was it? A queen chess piece?

"I don't understand-"

"Amelia. Would I have come this far for nothing?"

She didn't respond. She didn't need to, the question was rhetorical. They both knew he always had a reason, no matter how paltry it may seem.

"Now, perhaps one day you will understand. Until then, keep it with you," he smiled, "give it back to me once you do. That way I'll have some comfort. I need to know I've done something right."

"Grandfather-"

"Ah, don't worry about me. You go to that competition, and remain strong." Then he added thoughtfully. "Determination...perhaps that's what your father was missing." he winked at her.

That was the first time her chess playing reputation skyrocketed.