"I am not along at all, I thought. I was never alone at all. And that, of course, is the message of Christmas. We are never alone. Not when the night is darkest, the wind is coldest, the world seemingly most indifferent. For this is still the time God chooses." ~ Taylor Caldwell.

x

Monday 10th December 2012: Never Alone

Haru's eyes were deceiving her.

Or perhaps her mind was.

Either way, this wasn't the best of conclusions the china ballerina could have reached the next morning. It wasn't a good way to start any morning, really. But, delusion or not, her mind was adamant that the crack on her hand had shrunk.

She wouldn't have been so sure if she hadn't spent so much time snatching glances at it. Over the past two days, she had been stealing glimpses of the crack, just to remind her that she really had gone and done it; she really had irreparably damaged herself and would be stuck with it for the remainder of her days.

But there was no denying it.

The crack had shrunk.

Baron had been firm on the original matter; with the monarch gone, she wouldn't heal. There wasn't any magic left to heal the scars she'd gain while in toy form. So what she was seeing was impossible. And yet it was happening.

The group was too busy preparing for somebody or other that was arriving that day to pay much attention to the bewildered brunette. She guessed she should be grateful for this distraction; she didn't want to explain what had happened nor what she believed to have occurred. All she wanted to do right now was disappear into the background, fade away while the rest of the occupants busied themselves with their own tasks.

There was, however, one toy that didn't have much to do. Toto, the stone crow that had been mistaken as hostile on his first appearance, hopped over to where the ballerina sat. Perhaps because they were both newcomers to this group, Haru didn't mind his intrusion.

"Is everything going okay?"

"Well, I'm still in one piece and I'm still alive, so I guess so." Haru's left hand rubbed at the crack on her right, absent-mindedly tracing the fracture with her fingers.

"That doesn't quite answer my question."

"Did it not? Oh, I was rather hoping it would."

"Miss Haru–"

"Just Haru, if you would. I know Baron calls me that, but I've always been just plain Haru."

The stone crow tilted his head in singular acknowledgement. "If you say so. Haru, if you don't mind me being so forward, there seems to be something on your mind. Is everything under control?"

Haru bit back a sharp laugh. "I've been stuck as a toy, stranded in another world, attacked by mutated Transformer toys and trekked halfway across this world. There's not a snowball's chance in summer that everything is even barely under control." She turned to the other toy. "Does that answer your question?"

"I'm sorry. Baron had mentioned that you had suffered the same fate as him; I should have realised you would still be adjusting."

Haru huffed a sigh, bringing her knees against her chest and releasing her breath across her porcelain skin. Even with the other toys around her, she still felt very small. "I just want to go home," she muttered eventually. "But Baron says there's no way to return to the way I was before."

Toto hesitated to her side. The silence stretched out to an awkward length, but finally broke it with, "It's not so bad being a toy, you know. When this kingdom is returned to its former glory–"

"You believe you can undo the damage?"

Some of Haru's incredibility must have leaked out in her tone, because the bird's gaze snapped to the young ballerina. "I've seen this kingdom struggle through many ages, through civil wars and lost monarchs and misuse of the monarch's magic, but the world always rights itself in the end. Toys are cracked and broken, and everyone doesn't always make it through, but we must always, always hope." He turned away. "If we don't hope, we are lost."

"But... this world is so... broken," Haru whispered. The image of the Feral Forest rose to her mind, with the mindless toy attacking, and then the empty barrenness that now stood as the Snow Plains. "And Baron says–"

"Baron is young." The barest of smiles flickered at Toto's lips. "Twenty years as a human, twenty years as a toy... Some toys have lived through much longer, have seen monarchs come and go and we learn that life always continues. Just sometimes the times are more difficult than others."

"I thought the kingdom was nearly beyond hope?"

The crow acknowledged this with a slight nod. "Some parts of this world will take longer to heal than others. Some will take many, many years. But I believe there is hope."

"I don't think Baron does," Haru muttered.

"From what I've seen, I think the Baron is tired of hope." Toto tilted his head to the other side, a strangely sorrowful note coming into his voice. "I have only known him for the past week, but I have heard his story and heard enough from him to draw a few conclusions. He has lived in hope for the past twenty years – for a way to return to human, for a way to end this war, for a way to heal the land – and still he feels like his efforts have been in vain. He is weary of this war."

"I think everyone is," the ballerina agreed. She watched the other resident toys occupy the hall, restlessly waiting for something or someone to arrive. They queried between themselves, sometimes exiting to check the outer tunnels, other times just engaging in impatient conversation. She caught the momentary eye contact with Baron, and they both held it for the barest of seconds before both broke it. Haru turned away, moving her attention back to the stone crow. "How old are you?" She took in his appearance: the details were sharp, but showing some definite signs of wear and tear, but he spoke as if he were older than his condition would suggest. "And since when were avian gargoyles toys?"

Toto released a slight chuckle. "I wondered how long it would be before that question appeared. I am at least four hundred years old. I lost track several decades back. The person who created me put so much of their soul into me that it served in the same way that a child's imagination brings their toys alive."

"Oh. That can happen?"

"Indeed."

Haru thought it through before adding, "You don't look that old."

"I was fifty when I arrived at this kingdom, with the appearance you'd expect from any statue exposed to the elements for that long, and in that time the kingdom was still flourishing. The magic healed me and kept me new. The marks you see now have only been gained in the past five years."

"Oh." Now it had been explained, it seemed obvious.

"And those five years I have spent in the Human World." Toto released a deep sigh. "This world has changed in those years. It was beginning to suffer from the war before I left, but it is much worse than I expected."

"In that case, why hope?"

"Because I must." Toto gave a strange smile and hopped back onto his feet, shuffling his wings with the sound of stone-against-stone, and moved in the direction of the other toys. "But now our conversation must be cut short; it sounds as if our guests are arriving."

Haru pulled herself onto her feet, unsure how Toto could be so certain, and finally heard the sound of hooves on dirt. Paris skidded into the hall.

"They're here!"

"Finally," Baron could be heard to mutter. Nonetheless, he straightened his posture and took a stance that wasn't too unalike to being to attention. Haru was caught unawares; Shizuku's Baron had often fought – and usually won – but she had never imagined him to be anything even remotely close to a soldier. She always imagined the Baron fighting on his own terms; not answering to anyone or anything. And certainly not looking like a soldier waiting for his captain.

Subconsciously, she edged closer to the wall.

The first to arrive after Paris was a white feline. He was dressed in faded military attire that was coloured to fit with a dark forest environment, with scuffed murky boots that were torn around the edges. Behind him came possibly the largest, roundest cat Haru had ever seen. White, with only one rebel brown patch on his left ear, he was merely suited with a dark cloak that just managed to fit around his girth. Quickly after, half a dozen other military felines followed behind.

Baron executed a sharp bow. "Your Highness."

Haru's eyes doubled in size.

The smaller white feline nodded once in Baron's direction. "Baron." His head tilted to one side and Haru was sure he had spotted the absent ear. But he made no comment on that. "How long has it been since we last met? One month? Nearly two? I heard you had news."

"I do." He paused, and the silence was deafening. "I'm sorry, Your Highness."

The royal shook his head, but it seemed to take an exhausting amount of mental energy to force the movement. "I should have known... after fifteen years... that something had happened to her. I had to hope though..." He snapped his head back up, and Haru could almost feel him pulling himself together. She couldn't make out his facial expressions from her vantage point, but she saw him focus on the stone crow and something in his mannerism shifted to surprise. "Toto..."

Toto hopped forward. "I'm sorry to have been the bearer of bad news, Your Highness. I... I didn't know her for long, but she loved you very much. That much was clear."

"I know." The young royal turned away. "Trust me, I know. What...?" His voice broke, just for a second, before he gathered it again. "What happened?"

"I don't think–"

"Tell me."

"Please, Your Highness, maybe later–"

"Tell me!"

His voice rang round the stone hall, and for a brief moment the echoes sounded infinite. Toto jittered back, his black wings brushing against each other and making the grating sound of stone-against-stone.

"A truck. A human truck hit her. I'm sorry."

The cat turned away and the silence once again stretched out. It seemed almost emptier than before, especially now the last echoes had faded away. "Thank you, Toto. For telling me." He turned his head enough to make eye contact with the feline figurine. "We've travelled a long time today, Baron. Is there a chance my cats and I could be given a place to rest and make plans tomorrow?"

"Of course."

Haru watched them leave. She was already beginning to wish she hadn't witnessed that meeting.

ooOoo

That evening, sleep wouldn't come.

It wasn't like the human state of insomnia; Haru knew that she could switch her mind off and stumble straight into the world of slumber with the simple act of clearing her mind and a brief spurt of concentration, but this time it was difficult. Her mind was too full and too scared of where her dreams might take her. The young royal's loss echoed round her head, reminding of what had been lost even in the last week. Her humanity. Her family. Her world.

She didn't want her dreams to take her back. Not tonight. The reminder of her loss would be too great.

Releasing a long, low breath, Haru opened her eyes. She regarded the plain, earthy walls surrounding her and quickly grew tired of the bland environment. True, it was dry and warm and safe, but she had spent over two days in the confines of this bleak landscape, where only the glimmering lanterns were left to lighten the dark recesses and shadows sprawled in long elongated forms.

She rolled her shoulders, stretching her arms in a reluctant fashion as she abandoned the idea of sleep. Instead, she moved aside the curtain and stepped out into the corridor beyond. A short, simple walk guided her to the main cavern, and there she saw she wasn't the only toy up. The Prince's accompanying feline soldiers, and the huge cat, occupied the room, standing in the middle where the stone table rested. The table was a basic structure, looking more like an oversized brick than a hand-carved furnishing, but served its purpose as the felines discussed around it.

The Prince's companions weren't the only ones present; Baron and Robin both were heavily involved in the discussion, Baron leading the talk as he gestured to a map spread across the aforementioned table. Haru couldn't make out the words, but she guessed that plans of sorts were being made. Perhaps news had come in. Whatever was going on, Haru wasn't sure she was too interested in joining.

She just wanted to go home.

So, stealing one last glance at the debate – and spotting the stone crow sleeping against one wall too – she turned around and headed back the way she'd came. She stopped before she arrived back at her room, pausing to think over the image she'd stumbled upon.

This Baron wasn't Shizuku's Baron.

How often had she thought that in the past days? And yet, every time the thought crossed her mind – in a new way, in a new image, in a new comparison – it caught her unawares. She could never stop making the constant comparisons, couldn't never quite erase her personal expectations for the wooden feline, even when she knew she was being irrational. Shizuku's Baron was suave and fearless and infallible. This Baron was war-weary and as fallible as the next person. Shizuku's Baron could plan a rescue.

This Baron could plan a battle.

Haru shook her head, even as she realised she had rested her forehead against the uneven tunnel wall. This confusion wouldn't help her. She had guessed, from Baron's revelation yesterday, that Shizuku had based her Baron on the then-Humbert, which would explain the few similarities that ran through but, appearances aside, he was nearly unrecognisable. She wondered how much the past twenty years had changed him. How much they had changed everyone.

Haru tried to push these circling thoughts away, to regain some form of mental control, when a thin sound reached her ears. It was so faint that, for several seconds, she didn't recognise it. But her heart recognised it before her mind, and even as she had registered it as a child's crying she was already starting to walk.

The sobs were quiet, with the occasional hiccup that signified the person was trying to hold back their sorrow – with little success – but startlingly steeped in deep grief. Haru hesitated. Her feet stumbled over the uneven ground, scuffing dirt onto her china ballerina pumps and leaving marks in the floor, but she continued to guide herself towards the source of the sobs. She stopped by one of the small habitation rooms, and with only a fraying curtain to separate them, the crying was unmistakable now.

She hesitated again, this time with one hand hovering over the curtain. She briefly closed her eyes, as if making a quick prayer that she was doing the right thing, and gently pulled the curtain aside.

Inside, the white prince sat. The room was basic, but what little furnishing had adorned it was upturned and scattered, as if brusquely thrown aside in a fit of rage. Round the white feline, however, there was only the dusty ground he sat on.

The sobbing stopped, although Haru could still hear his uneasy breathing choking in his throat. He regained a little reprieve, enough to speak anyway.

"Who's there?" His head turned and now Haru saw one milky-blue eye turn to her. He blinked, but didn't focus. "Who are you?"

"I... I heard you and..." And what, exactly? Haru pondered. She couldn't stand to hear his cries? She had felt the need to do something? "I just wanted to help," she finished lamely.

"Help?" The Prince's voice came out hoarse and he turned away. The eerily unfocused eye released her, to her relief, she couldn't help but admit. "I'm past help."

Haru could have walked out. She could have turned and left the feline to his sorrow. It would almost have been too easy. But the same caring streak that had led her there in the first place pushed through and she walked towards him instead. Kneeling down beside the grief-stricken cat, she hesitantly placed one porcelain hand on his shoulder. "Of course you're not," she insisted. "You just can't see that right now."

His shoulder twitched, as if contemplating shrugging her off but discovered he didn't have the energy to do so, and his head turned to give her a view of the same blue eye again. The pupil didn't display any emotion, but the rest of the face Haru could see twitched. He shifted, and turned his head yet more so both eyes rested on Haru.

The ballerina almost stumbled back. Probably would, if she hadn't been kneeling.

The Prince's other eye was a bright, uncannily sharp red. This eye blinked and focused new attention on his guest. "Who are you?"

Haru was too busy shifting her gaze between the mismatching pair of eyes – eyes that didn't quite fit together, as if one had been mutilated and now neither worked together quite like they should – and almost missed his question. As things went though, her mouth flapped uselessly for a couple of seconds before words began to form.

"Haru. I'm Haru." Then, feeling the need to elaborate, she added, "I arrived with Baron. I'm... well, I used to be a human, but I kind of got on the wrong side of the Cat King." She looked away and made a half-hearted shrug. "So here I am."

She heard the Prince execute a sharp, irritated sound, and on looking back up saw a few sparks of anger simmering in the red eye. The blue eye continued to stare emotionlessly out. "I'm sorry for whatever he has done to you. Trust me, if we had found any way to undo it..." The anger faded as quickly as it'd come. Anger was too exhaustive an emotion to bear with the sorrow weighing him down.

"I know. If there was a way, Baron wouldn't still be here," Haru finished for him.

With a new silence forming, Haru took the time to take another look at the feline royal.

He was significantly younger than she had initially pegged him. With his military outfit, his soldiers and Baron's deference, she had aged him at about twenty, at the very least. But now, at this proximity and with his defences down, she guessed him to be in his mid teens. She wondered what had happened for a teenager to have so much shoved onto his shoulders.

War, she guessed.

She still didn't quite understand what was wrong with his eyes. She had seen eyes with mismatching irises before – she understood it was relatively common in cats – but there was something different here. Something beyond your average odd-eye cats, although she wasn't aware red was an eye colour choice.

"I'm... I'm sorry for your loss, by the way," she muttered. The condolence sounded flat and meaningless on her tongue – he must have heard the same words repeated too many times that day, but she knew no other way to address her sympathy. Neither was she aware of who exactly had passed away.

The Prince nodded mutely and now new tears streaked his white fur. Haru immediately felt bad for reminding him.

"I can't believe she's gone," he whispered between the tears. "It's been five years since she went into the Human World, but I kept on believing that something else must have happened. Maybe she couldn't find her way back, maybe she lost the travelling stone, anything to explain her absence. But... it sounded like Toto was very sure on the matter..."

The tears were coming faster now, much too fast. He choked on the renewed sobs and finally broke down entirely. Haru did the only thing that felt right.

She placed an arm around him and let him sob on her shoulder.

She rested her chin atop the feline's white head, feeling the sobs shake through him and travel through her, and tried not to think about what she had lost. She didn't murmur assurances that everything would be alright, because she knew she couldn't promise that. Instead she closed her eyes and let the cat's grief speak for both of them.

Time passed in lumbering, clumsy strides, but eventually the young feline had cried all that could be cried. The tears stopped, receding into the quiet, wheezing hiccups that surfaced when all the tears had been spent. Haru felt the time was right to leave the Prince to his own grieving, that now he needed to be alone, and moved to stand.

The Prince's paw curled around her wrist. She thought that he was going to stop her, but he only slowed her enough for her to hear him murmur, "Thank you. Haru."

He released her and Haru was free to leave. She hesitated. "You're not alone," she said. "You never will be." She took her steps back slowly, doing her best to muffle her footsteps, but her porcelain feet were not fashioned for hushed movement as she stepped steadily backwards towards the curtain. Only as she turned did she register the presence of someone else in the makeshift doorway.

Baron caught her before she walked into him, stopping her with one hand and raising his other to his lips. His eyes flickered once to the grieving Prince before flickering back to Haru. He nodded and led her out of the room.

Only once two corridors had been placed between them and the Prince, and they came to Haru's room, did Baron stop. Again his eyes flickered away from Haru, and the ballerina could guess he was remembering the broken form of the white feline. She almost voiced her queries, but stifled them before she asked. This wasn't something she could just ask. This was something that would only be told of someone's own deciding.

When Baron's gaze returned to Haru, she could see some decision of sorts had been reached. But his first statement wasn't an explanation or even a question.

"Thank you, Miss Haru. He needed that."

"I don't need any thanks," Haru mumbled. "It's what anyone would've done."

"No," Baron replied, "it isn't."

Another silence started, but this was a newer, more awkward silence than the ones she had shared with the young Prince. Haru stole a glance at the curtain to her room, wondering whether she could just excuse herself or whether Baron had more to say.

She eventually cleared her throat. "I guess I should try to catch some sleep. It's been a long day and..." She shrugged as she let the sentence lamely hang in the air, unfinished and uncertain. "Well, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yes. And, Miss Haru?"

Haru stopped just before the curtain. She tilted her head, seeing the form of Baron out of the corner of her eye, enveloped in half-hearted shadows cast where the flickering lanterns didn't shed light. "I asked you to call me Haru," she muttered.

The wooden figurine seemed to be fighting some internal battle and, for just a few seconds, Haru thought he was going to explain what the Prince was going through – who he'd lost and why his eyes didn't quite look right and how a teenager could possibly be harbouring so much responsibility without breaking – but at Haru's words, he lost the battle. He shook his head. "I'm sorry for everything."

And then he walked away.