"Checkmate," Alena announced as she knocked over Reiniel's king. "I win again."

It was another bright, sunny day, and spots of light scattered over the two youths as they faced each other at a table beside the open window. A chessboard was spread between them, bearing significantly more white pieces than black. Though it was a beautiful day outside, Reiniel had insisted upon staying indoors, claiming that he was feeling a bit under the weather. Though she had guessed that that wasn't the reason for his reclusiveness that day, Alena hadn't pressed him any further. Truth be told, she was somewhat worried about him; ever since he had heard the news of the approaching rebel army, he had started acting stranger than ever, and soon refused to leave his room or see anyone besides Alena herself. No, more than strange—he seemed almost afraid, something she had never seen in him before. It wasn't that he was unnaturally brave, of course; rather, he always hid his feelings behind an arrogant façade, never allowing anyone to see himself for who he really was. But now, that wall was gone, and through it she could see the weak, scared boy who had been there all along. She certainly didn't blame him for it, though; she felt more than a little fear herself, and she was sure that she would act similarly if she were in his position.

Across from her, Reiniel groaned and sat back, a mere vestige of his former behavior. "This is the fifth time this morning… Have you no mercy?"

"Of course not. I only plan to defeat you another five times before I am through." Her humor was lost on him, though, as he silently turned to stare out the window at the garden below. I'm losing him, she thought sadly as she gazed at the painful expression he wore. No matter what I do, it is not enough, and slowly, he continues to lose touch with reality, consumed by his own fear. I can do nothing to help him… "Is something the matter?" she asked instead as she swiftly reset the game pieces on the board. "Would you rather I let you win?"

"I am perfectly fine," the boy replied, answering neither of her two questions as he faced her once again, his face as composed as he could possibly manage. Only the slightest tremble of his hands betrayed his agitation. "It is nothing… Absolutely nothing…" Absently, he moved his pawn to begin the game, and then grimaced as Alena captured it with a quick flick of her wrist.

"So you say," she countered as he skidded another playing piece across the checkered tiles. "It is fairly obvious to me that something is amiss, though." Her gaze softened at the look of alarm that flew across this face. "Is it anything you wish to discuss—"

"No. Of course not. Your move." His expression had hardened again, a familiar look that told her that he was hiding something after all.

"Reiniel…" But he would not respond, not even as the blonde took his queen and put his king into check. Only as the game came to a close did he deign to speak again.

"How soon will they arrive?" he asked distractedly as he removed his king from the board. His voice was so quiet that Alena almost didn't hear him.

"How soon will who arrive?"

"The rebels, of course." Reiniel looked mildly annoyed, but it lasted only a second. "They will be here soon, and when they arrive, I will be killed."

Startled by the bluntness of his statement, the maiden hurried to reassure him. "You don't know that—"

"But what else would they do with me, if not kill me?" He was on his feet now, pacing across the floor, the king game piece still gripped in his long fingers. "I have done too much to make them hate me for them to show me mercy and allow me to live. Even I can see that. So why should I expect any different?"

Alarmed, Alena too rose to her feet and hurried to his side. "Perhaps there is still hope that you might live. Perhaps they can be reasoned with—"

"Do not attempt to console me, Alena!" he shouted, his voice cracking with emotion. "Don't attempt to give me hope where there is none. You yourself told me that there is nothing we can do. There is nothing, and so I will become nothing, just as I began. This—all I have done, all I have worked for—is nothing, just the ill-spoken treachery of a soon to be dead king." With that, he threw the king in his hand to the floor, where it bounced and slowly rolled under the table. "This is the end for me, Alena. This is the end."

He was weeping now, whether he realized it or not, great fat tears streaking down his cheeks. Suddenly, his arms were around the startled girl, and he was crying into her shoulder—Reiniel, the boy who never showed his emotions, who never needed anything from anyone, least of all comfort of this nature. Slowly, she returned the embrace, her arms wrapping awkwardly around his shuddering back. It occurred to her that it had always been him who had comforted her when she cried like this, holding her in his arms even when they were young and whispering reassuring words into her hair. And now it was her turn to hold him as he cried, to let him cling to her as he was and whisper the same meaningless niceties that he once comforted her with. "It's all right… Shh, it's okay…" The words weren't true, of course, but what else could she tell him? If the truth was too painful, what else could she give him but lies?

Finally, at long last, his sobs quieted, leaving him trembling within the circle of her arms like a tree in a violent storm. Slowly releasing him, she sat him down in his chair, where he stared down at his hands listlessly, making no move to wipe the moisture from his eyes. Alena poured a cup of tea for him from the tray nearby before pulling up a chair to sit beside him. There they sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, and Reiniel sipping his lukewarm tea. Soon, he spoke again, his voice little more than a whisper. "There must be something we can try," he murmured weakly. "There has to be…right?" He glanced pleadingly up at his servant, his face the very picture of misery. How could she sit there and refuse to help him, the boy who depended on her for everything, who confided in her even the most minor details, who had let down the walls that surrounded him to plead for her help? There had to be something she could do, anything that would allow him to live past this horrible coup. This boy, whom she had loved for all fifteen years of her life, who she would do almost anything for, anything at all that he commanded her to do.

"Promise me one thing," he started again, determination briefly strengthening his voice. "Just one thing. Get out of here alive. Do not let them capture you as well, whatever you do. Please promise me this?" His gaze locked with hers in that second, and in his eyes, she saw all that he had never been able to say, all that he couldn't express before. His fear; his determination to live, despite the odds stacked against him; and, past it all, in the very depths of his blue orbs, what pained her the most: the admiration and love he felt for her, kept at bay all these years by lies and inner inhibitions. But were these not the same feelings she felt for him as well? Her willingness to do anything for him, to run to the ends of the earth for him if he asked, all were due to these twin emotions that ran through them both. How could she not assure him that yes, she would find a way to save him, that she would sacrifice herself if only to ensure his survival for one more day, even if it meant her own demise? Had it only been a few months ago that she had tried to convince herself that she was nothing like the cold-hearted tyrant she served that the people so feared? And yet, in carrying out his inhumane wishes with her own hands, she was no better than him after all—possibly even worse. If he was evil, as everyone claimed, then she must be too. And yet, even now, she could see no trace of the cruelty the people claimed to see in this frightened boy—all she saw in that open expression of his was the innocence and kindness of his childhood.

With that thought, an idea finally installed itself in her mind, one that was so life-changing that she knew Reiniel would never in a thousand years agree to it. But she knew that she must do it, if not for his sake, then for her own, as selfish as it seemed. So she looked up at him, into the icy blue orbs that she had familiarized herself with in all the time she had known, and slid off her chair to kneel in front of him. "I will do no such thing," she whispered. "But I have a plan. In order for it to succeed, however, I require your full cooperation. Do you agree?"

Day by day, the army of revolutionaries drew closer, gathering support wherever they went. The Red mercenaries forces had grown to be much larger than anyone had expected, and reports soon reached the palace of another army that had joined their ranks, led by a masked Blue woman from Algeria. Weakened from the Green War, the diminished Royal Guard dropped like flies before them, allowing them entry deeper in to the country. They had made it within twenty miles of the kingdom by the first day of autumn, and the dying leaves that blew past began to take on an ominous air, foreshadowing the upcoming destruction of the king's regime.

Reiniel still refused to leave his quarters, taking all his meals there in the company of only his thoughts and his servant. The maiden had not fully revealed her plan as of yet, which only served to add to his fear. Did she truly have one, or was she only fibbing to make him feel more secure? Whatever her motives, the weight of the rapidly approaching peasant army sank him deeper and deeper into despair, so far down that he feared he may never escape in time. He lived out his days in near solitude this way, conversing occasionally with Alena and brooding over his nearing death. And
then, at long last, the much anticipated day arrived.

Barren trees bore the news of the final siege, revealing their presence as they marched towards the city gates. By this time, the servants had all fled—save for Alena, who remained faithfully by his side. The boy sat staring out the window as fire arose from the first houses, sending ashy smoke billowing up into the darkening sky. Perhaps this was how Melegone looked as my soldiers burnt it to the ground, he wondered as tiny townsfolk threw themselves at the soldiers lining the distant streets below. Perhaps this is my punishment: watching my city burn around me, and started by my own subjects, no less. As frightened as he was, with his executors now in sight, he still would not run; he had told himself, and Alena, several times in the past few days that he would not abandon his position, even if it meant his life.

"Why won't you run? You could save yourself if you were to escape now."

"I will not leave. This is my country, and I am their king, whether they like it or not. I will not give in to their pathetic rebellion by surrendering my throne so easily to them."

"Even if you could escape with your life?"

"If that was a possibility now, I still would not give in. But seeing as it is not, it seems as though I have no choice in the matter anyway."

Reiniel was startled from his thoughts as the door to his quarters swung open, revealing a blonde boy dressed in the clothes of a servant. No, it wasn't a boy—it was Alena, her hair chopped off at the shoulder in a boyish style. In her arms she held a bundle of clothing, which she quickly set aside as she strode over to him. The shock on his face must have shown, for she cast him a rueful half-smile. "I had to cut my hair," she explained with a shrug, "in order for the plan to work. Does it look alright?"

"You look like a boy," he exclaimed in dumfounded horror. "What on earth has gotten into you—"

"As I just told you, it is part of the plan," she huffed. "And you told me that you would comply without question. I do not see anything of the sort at the moment."

The boy quieted then, but not before casting a curious glance at the nearby pile of clothing. "What are those for?"

Alena looked hesitant, but slowly replied. "They are for you. You must get away, quickly, before they find you. I already have Joseph saddled and waiting in the courtyard, all ready for you to—"

"For me to what? Escape?" Reiniel asked frantically as the implication of her plan dawned on him. "Do you intend to come after me, or will you stay here for the rebels to fetch you?"

Alena flinched slightly at his harsh tone. "That was the plan, yes, in a way," she muttered. "We must switch clothes, so that you look like a servant, and I like your highness. You can then escape undetected, and the townsfolk will have their king to do with as they see fit. But do not worry," she said hurriedly as alarm sprang to his face. "I will be alright, I promise. You must trust me."

"I will not leave you behind!" the boy cried. "I will not allow those…those savages to lay a hand on you—"

"Reiniel." Her voice was soft as she took his hand lightly in her own. "My only concern is for your well-being, so please, with all due haste, put on my clothes and be on your way. We do not have much time."

Grief-stricken, Reiniel stared at her for a moment before mutely nodding. "Promise me that you will be all right…" he murmured, his voice cracking as she threw her arms around his slim frame.

"I cannot promise such a thing," she whispered, her voice muffled against the material of his shirt. "But I will try my hardest to return to you. That I do promise." Holding him at arms length, she looked him in the eye for a moment before nodding; she turned then to retrieve the bundle of clothes from the nearby table and put it in his arms. "We are about the same size," she said. "These should fit nicely. Find me some of your clothing to wear, and then we will be ready."

Five minutes later, they emerged into the main room again, each wearing the unfamiliar clothes of the other. Reiniel, dressed as a common servant, looked no more royal than one of the palace stablehands. Alena, on the other hand, looked every bit the part in her finery. Even the slim silver circlet that rested against her temple looked as if it had been made just for her, as if she really had been royalty all along, instead of Reiniel. With her cropped hair and wearing Reiniel's clothing, the boy could almost believe that he was looking as a copy of himself. Only the slight femininity of her features betrayed her gender, but it wasn't enough for anyone one but himself to notice. Together with the alarming fact that that she was unarmed, she exceedingly passed in her attempt to masquerade as the young king.

As if just remembering something, Alena hurried to the table once again to retrieve yet another bundle, one that he hadn't noticed before. This one, unlike that containing the clothing, was long and narrow, wrapped in a thin leather cloth and tied together with twine. She silently motioned for him to open it; hesitantly, he did so, and with shaking hands revealed the hilt of her sword, the black molded rose glittering darkly in the faint evening light. Speechless, he could only look at her, and she offered only a small, sad smile. "It is for you," she murmured softly. "I obviously cannot keep it—everyone in the kingdom knows of your lack of skill with a sword. Nonetheless, it will serve you well, if you should ever need it. It is the lightest blade I have ever encountered, crafted of the finest steel of the mountains of Skandra. It is named the Maiden of the Rose, and it has served me well, as I hope it shall also serve you." A small smile lit her face as she carefully buckled the scabbard about his waist, and then watched as he slowly slid the blade into the carefully oiled leather. "Be careful when you leave. Find a town many, many miles away, somewhere they will never find you, and make a new life for yourself. I know you will be fine."

Tears spilled down Reiniel's cheeks as he gazed at her for what felt like the last time. "Will I ever see you again?" he whispered sadly.

Alena smiled again, through her own tears that blurred the image of the boy standing before her. "I hope so," she said. "But if not, know that I love you more than anyone else I have ever known. Never forget that, Reiniel…"

Only after he had gone did she dare to complete her unfinished statement, whispered to herself among the silence that surrounded her. "Never forget that I will always love you, my dearest brother…"

Reiniel was riding out of the kingdom not long after, via a route shown to him by an acquaintance of Alena's. He didn't look back, even as the shouts of the rebels from the streets below reached their crescendo, even as the deafening sound of splintering wood signaled that they had broken into the palace: his home, the only one he had ever known. Only after he had reached the edge of the forest beyond the city limits did he dare turn to view the wreckage that lay behind him, the remnants of his once beautiful childhood fallen and dashed to pieces underfoot. But even as the sight met his eyes, only one though came to mind.

Why did she seem so familiar..?