ALABASTER AND SABLE

She had hated him. Why had she been given the opportunity to live while the rest of her family had been left to die? She had watched her mother scream and beg for mercy as her son, her only son, had been forced to his knees for the rope to be tied around his neck just like his father before him. It had taken hours for all three of them to die, hanging from the gates of the castle from a thick braided rope secured around their necks. Before it was over, Nyna had collapsed from anxiety. They were gone, and here she was, watching them helplessly while her captors jeered and mocked their weakness. There was absolutely nothing she could do to help them. And she was alone.

She couldn't imagine what sort of nefarious plans Dohlr had for her. Perhaps they had just wanted to watch her suffer before letting her die a similar death. Who could possibly be this cruel? For nights she had wept in her cell, praying for execution or death to come swiftly. It was not like her to show weakness, but how could she not? Her family was gone. Her country was set ablaze by the fire of war. Her future was nonexistent. She didn't have a friend or ally in the world.

Then he came.

In the middle of the night, a soft, gentle voice had told her, "You have wept long enough, Princess of Archanea…" Before Nyna could respond, her cell had opened. A tall man dressed in a dark overcoat urged her to hurry before helping her into a dark hooded cloak. "I pray you, be silent as you can, Princess. Let me do any talking that is necessary. I swear on my honor you will not die here."

He had indeed rescued her all alone. They fled the castle together, hand in hand. She could barely see him in the moonlight that illuminated their escape. His hair shone like the stars and his eyes held the soft gaze of the morning twilight while his hands felt like they had seen the scourge of war more than once. Yes, she would admit he was handsome, but she recognized his garb. He was of the Sable Knights of Grust, the traitors that had been cowardly enough to succumb to Dohlr's threat. He had visited her several times to bring her food or merely a kind word. She probably hadn't spoken more than three words to him, and here he was, saving her.

She stopped and wrenched her hand from his. "I demand to know where you are taking me," she ordered in a hushed whisper. For a moment, he scolded her with his eyes for her disobedience. She thought he might just grab her hand once again and force her on. They were out of the castle, but they were not out of harm's way after all. He finally gave into her harsh gaze however.

"You are to go to Aurelis. Sir Hardin will take care of you there. You can find shelter and hopefully avoid execution or worse. I do not know what the future holds for you, but it will be better if you stay with allies." He paused and waited for her response, but when it did not come quickly enough, he gently took her hand in his and softened his gaze. "Please… Your country has suffered enough. If we ever see the end of this war, your people will need a ruler. You cannot die."

He was right… The holy bloodline ended with her. She had been in mourning for so long, she had forgotten her duty to her people. They were suffering, just like her. Many a family had lost a mother or father or brother. She was not the only being in existence. "Then pray…tell me your name. I know you are not of Dohlr, and you are not my enemy, but you are not an ally all the same."

"My name is Camus," he answered her. "Please… We need to hurry." He urged her on once again, careful not to hurt her as they hurried away from the castle.

That night, he had stuck her atop a black stallion. She could find her way to Aurelis herself, because he was not to come with her. Perhaps that was why she hated him. She had been alone for so long, then a kind soul had offered her companionship only to wrench it away after a few minutes. He would not abandon his country, not even for a fair damsel that did not deserve execution. She would be in his prayers in her travels. As long as she avoided the main roads, she should be fine; the Coyote would welcome her with open arms.

Camus had left her alone. She should hate him. His country had caused so much pain, and he had helped it, but she didn't. He had given her a new life. And she had failed to do the same for him.

For the first time in years, Nyna sat on the throne of Castle Archanea. Her father had sat there not too long ago. He had ruled for so long and the people had prospered, but now the people of her country no longer prospered. They were healing and rebuilding. She should be helping them, but she found herself mourning again. As a tear rolled down her pale alabaster cheek, she gasped and tried to force the rest of her sorrow back down into her mind. She could not weep again. She feared she would never stop.

But Camus… "Why could you…could you not betray your country, even for me?" she wondered aloud. Perhaps it was best she had not seen her die. Sir Hardin had ripped her from the battlefield to keep her from seeing the bloody battle that had ensued. Prince Marth had ensured her that General Camus of the Sable Knights was dead, and he had given her the mighty lance Gradivus.

She had kept it as a memoir of the mighty general. His hands had once grasped the smooth steel of its pole. She could see scratches on the blade from his battle. The thought of someone prying it from his cold, dead fingers… She gasped again as she choked on another sob that threatened to destroy her composure. No. She would not cry.

The door to the throne room slowly swung open. She had asked that no one disturb her, but Prince Marth did not seem to understand that. He bowed to the princess, offering her his respects when she sent him a condescending look that told him he was not welcome. "I apologize for the intrusion," he said. "My sister and I were speaking however, and your name came up. We would like to speak to you."

Elice entered behind him, elegant as ever. She held a grace that her brother could not mimic even with his gentle features. In her hands she held a golden staff, the head shaped like a hollow diamond. In the center, a single red jewel glittered softly in the light. "We do apologize. You of all people deserve your time to mourn, but there…is the issue of the Aum Staff."

"An issue?" Princess Nyna asked. Her look of contempt turned to one of confusion as she tried to discern what was on the siblings' minds. Their faces didn't betray a thing though however.

"Everyone has lost someone in the war," Marth continued in the stead of his sister. "But no one lost more than Archanea. It seems to me, that it is your right to decide what should be done with this holy relic. It can be used but once to revive someone. With the recent events, it does not seem safe to leave it lying about for any madman to abuse. But we cannot seem to agree amongst ourselves as to who we should revive. It was a unanimous vote amongst the League leaders. We would like you to decide who deserves life once again."

The young monarch's eyes widened with surprise. Her decision? Someone's life was in her hands. She rose from the throne to meet Elice halfway and took the staff when it was thrust into her hands.

"You are a brave woman, Nyna," Elice whispered as she let go of the precious relic. "You deserve happiness after all of this."

"Happiness?" Elice merely smiled at the young woman, like she knew something she didn't. Perhaps she was reading her mind or the blush on her face, or perhaps she assumed her family would make her happy. The truth of it all was that she wasn't concerned with her family. She felt terrible. She had watched them die and suffer. She had loved them more than anything in the world, and she wanted their love, of course, but she wanted her own family as well. The past would haunt her, but she could only make her future brighter. She could not dwell in the past.

"Thank you…" she replied. She felt magic surge through her body as she focused her thoughts on the staff. It built and was about to release when the flow stopped altogether. The staff did not glow with the magic she had offered it. She tried again, but once again, it was the same effect. It was like trying to use a heal staff on someone in perfect health.

"…Princess Nyna?" Marth asked after several minutes of silence.

The woman opened her periwinkle eyes, now filled to the brim with tears. She let them flow freely down her cheeks as she shoved the staff back at Elice. "H-He's alive…" she said. "G-General Camus is alive."