Our Missing Pieces

Year 18 Bonus

Rosella found herself in the storage room, the webs and dust coating her hair and dress and arms oddly comforting. The guards tried; they really did. There was no keeping it fully clean, and in a way, Rosella preferred it because it was what she'd always known. She was so used to the same old that she doubted she would take to change easily.

She was confused by the direction her thoughts took in the ice labyrinth: if I don't get out of here, would I lose consciousness or remember my home or the people I care about if I become a sculpture? And that thought threw her off, though Mom suddenly stopping what she was examining to squeeze her hand was reassuring enough to make her confidence in both their abilities flare warm enough she half expected the walls to melt in an instant.

But for a small moment she seriously wondered if the pleasant life built up over eighteen years was going to feel like an illusion to mentally separate from this terrible place for seconds at a time. The life where she had castle walls to protect her from the moment she was born, not having to worry about if food was going to be on the table or her shoes would last the year. She was taken care of not just because she seemed to be the last option to sit on the throne if anything should happen to her parents, while those same parents didn't give up on the world and loved her despite missing their son and having to instruct her how to slip into the role of a ruler even though it never came to that, and she didn't have to worry.

Not all of the local children had been kind to her when old enough to know "Princess" wasn't a nickname. But they wouldn't be able to face their parents if they gave Daventry's princess even the slightest sign of injury or make her cry, so Rosella didn't know what it was like to fully be an outcast and only knew those kids didn't like her in their body language. In fact, the only one she never truly considered to be her friend was Helena even now. Others were nice, but either they or parents were just trying to chase after the fantasy of getting close to the royal family for assumed perks.

But overall: her life almost felt too pleasant. She wondered if it was okay to miss that. At the moment, for example, crawling around old furniture was an experience she would miss inside the large castle full of trained guards to throw themselves at attacks aimed at her at a moment's notice or even if she merely hit her face on a table leg. They would scratch up and burn the evil table that dared stun her for three seconds.

She had been having small chats with Mom when she wasn't in mourning lately, working her way around to telling her that the lessons in case Daventry was ever in critical lack of ruler only ever made her sick to the stomach. Mom was all-knowing, but she seemed to be waiting for her to say it out loud. Rosella wished she could muster the strength to ask Dad to join them so he could know something far more important than both his children not having inherited his fondness for puzzles and letting it be preserved.

Queen of Daventry left a bad taste in her mouth when she said that out loud. Experimentally sitting on the throne gave her dizzy spells thinking about a crowd of people in dire times helplessly looking to her for guidance. Sometimes she saw the crown she imagined unbearable weight. That was too many words to say: she wasn't as uncomfortable as Alexander about it, but she knew from an earlier age about the potential future. She didn't hate being born into this, absolutely not. If something happened to Mom and Dad, but they thought ahead and arranged for her to be on the throne then so be it. Only their vote of confidence would cause her acceptance.

Considering that Mom and Dad let her take up weapon training and ultimately handle the real thing, it was safe to assume they wouldn't be mad or disappointed if she didn't want the crown. Between the two reactions, however, she would take anger over disappointment any day. But not accepting who their daughter was... That wasn't her parents. Well, Dad came too close to cross the line of disapproval with Alexander but was able to be pulled back. Did that mean he had reservations about Rosella's weapon interest even when he said she could do what she wanted with her life? Only he could say. And he wasn't a perfect person; that's been established time after time. Not that Rosella expected him to change when those flaws didn't make caring for him difficult. She had flaws too, wasn't going to spend time making a list but knew even her own parents weren't going to call her a perfect angel.

Rosella doubted anyone had ever reached the very back of the storage room to notice that part of the stone wall was a lighter shade than the rest. Even then, the spider webs and dust would prevent anyone from trying to get this far. It was a little dramatic, but in her defense: this was more fun than simply moving her pillow or opening a desk drawer in practice. She lifted herself up to be sitting on her knees as she removed the quite heavy slab as she'd done since she was a child. The slab was dropped carelessly to reveal the hole in the wall where an old journal-like book had its once shiny cover faded from heat of multiple summers.

She didn't want to be embarrassed by it, she couldn't. It had been sitting here since she was fourteen, where she told herself she would rip out the parts written when she was a child and take Mom's advice when she originally gave it to her when she was probably around five or six to help with writing and to teach her how to healthily express herself. Rosella wondered what she thought at fourteen beyond these entries; she wasn't like her peers or even Dad being ashamed of their younger selves, but if she was going to use it for journal entries it would be time-waster to flip through all those pages to find her new place. She tried; there were at least three entries made much more coherently in slightly better handwriting, but they all made the same point. They were written not too far apart.

Things couldn't possibly be any more chaotic after that vacation. The combination of Alexander returning to her life and seeing new scenery helped to fully convince her it was time. Words weren't easy, but maybe she could let Dad read those last three entries and know what she had tried to communicate in the past and were still relevant now... But words can't always be graceful.

Rosella placed the slab over the wall for what would be the last time before making her way back. Crawling, shoving, climbing, none of that was difficult after the stamina she gathered from combat training. She looked back on the room, thinking she probably wouldn't have reason to come back in the nearer future and gave all the old trunks of childhood mementos a lingering glance before throwing the door open.

Dad and Alexander happened to be standing in the doorway to the latter's room having what sounded like a battle to finish awkward small talk. Rosella kept herself at a certain distance away, not meaning to eavesdrop or even watch like they were performing some kind of improvisation routine. But she couldn't help noticing that Dad kept saying "so" at the beginning of every sentence while Alexander rushed his brief replies as if the hall was in flames around them.

The path to establishing a father/son bond wasn't going to be easy, and there would be bumps and a lot of questioning if the right thing was said. Rosella watched for a moment because they were both trying. Dad's eyes and face softened, content to spend time with his son no matter what. Alexander couldn't meet his gaze for too long but wasn't hiding behind the door like he did when he first arrived. It would be a long time before Alexander was comfortable with contact but when Dad's hand waved a little too close as he spoke, he didn't slap it just for being near the space before his personal space.

When Rosella found an opportunity to cut in, she cleared her throat and made them looked her way. They questioned what she had been doing to have nearly grey hair from all the dust, but she decided to simply take Dad's hands and drop her old journal in them. He was confused, just as she expected. She didn't know how to explain her plan in front of Alexander; she didn't want him to secretly worry about Dad not being able to prioritize time for both of them now, though she could imagine him denying it to their faces.

"Start from the back of the book, flipping until you see the last three entries. We'll need to talk after this, so let me know when you're done, and we can work our schedules out." Rosella instructed Dad with as much of a mysterious tone as possible. And without waiting for a response, she gave him and Alexander an affectionate nod and went on her way trying not to leave a trail of dust on the floor.

"Is being unnecessarily cryptic in the blood?" Rosella heard Alexander ask with mild exasperation as she closed the door to the bath behind her.

Without the journal in hand, Rosella's confidence wavered to the point she saw the mirror reflect her nervous expression. What if it wasn't the right time, what if Dad didn't understand the message like she did since even it was written at fourteen she still retained those thoughts, what if he didn't read it all out of realizing it was a journal even though she gave permission...

Rosella swore everyone around her had solid plans/easily expressed their hopes of their futures. She forced a smile when they brought up the topic as if they all decided at eighteen Rosella should have been completely certain which direction her life was going. Although narrowly avoiding becoming an ice sculpture for all eternity might normally speed that along.

People like Amaya and Whisper were still together, and while there probably wouldn't be wedding bells ringing or speedy kids running around in play sword fights it was just noteworthy how both of their always-changing plans they threw at the wall to see what stick involved the other person. Whatever they did worked for them, and no one could argue with results.

They would probably be like Wente and Bramble, grow old together working in the same place. The two of them, from what Rosella picked up, weren't without some concerns about their son but they had each other and maybe it was idealistic, but they simply enjoyed the routine.

No one knew routine more than Acorn; he knew what he liked, what he wanted to do. He never really tried to make too many connections with other humans, but Dad and even Whisper weren't the worst company to have so he "begrudgingly" let them into the shop after hours to talk and have specifically non-alcoholic beverages.

When it came to Rosella's own friends, Helena hadn't simply moved on from her mother's death, but she and her father were getting closer by sharing memories. As her father was getting older and Helena gained strength from combat training, she thought she'd take care of the farm for him. She didn't hone her combat skills much anymore. Finn was still attached to her hip right where she wanted as his imagination ran and led him to want the two to be middle-aged, like, thirty or something when they would sell their parents' businesses, all but one boat where they would leave the kingdom behind living a luxurious life with no worries and have a child and exotic fish collection. It was a lot, but Helena considered it.

When it came to Rosella's family, Mom wasn't going to get over the death of her old friend overnight. Sometimes her thoughts visibly strayed, sometimes she could be heard sniffling at night while Dad did his best to return the comfort she had given him up to that point. But when Mom was composed, she was keeping the kingdom alive. Her plan was simply to continue, watching a place she had grown to care about flourish. She still invited Dad to help when he was in a good state too, though his plan was to take it day by day but a little better this time.

Alexander was eager to see the world but decided that could wait for one more year. It wasn't as though he was moved by his family's genuine love and willingness to let him finally be his own person. But while he was humoring them by staying around, he was the first in several years to read through the books on Daventry's history and miscellaneous information. He didn't try to be cute and call his walks outside the residential area adventures, but if his parents or sister wanted to join him, he would do his best to curb complaints when they did. Which was odd, because he didn't complain. Then, since they kept pestering him in his mind only, he made the agonizing decision to bump it up to one more year in Daventry but any more than that would be out of line.

It was the end of fall, the eve of winter when Rosella was woken by nervous knocks on her door. She fell out of bed at the noise, shuffled like a poorly reanimated corpse to open it up. The first thing she saw was a bow, then her blurry eyes gradually cleared and allowed her to see Dad dressed for the day already but with a jacket for the early morning chill. His eyes met hers, brightening hopefully.

"Dad, it's nowhere near daylight." Rosella told him sternly, head making a dull head against the door.

Dad fought off the instinct to look to his feet or withdraw entirely. "I decided to read the book- The journal you gave me weeks ago."

Rosella had to fight to not break eye contact as well, feeling her chest tighten. She wouldn't say she was anxious about his response, but she did have a pinch of worry she would sound just as unworldly.

When he didn't get a response, Dad stepped back and could be seen fidgeting slightly with the bow. The burning hope in his eyes fizzled so fast. "I know it's bad timing, but I don't want to put off a talk any longer. At least if we do it now, we won't have any distraction and... Maybe some archery could keep us focusing, keep us awake. Am I trying too hard? It feels like it." His voice faded entirely by the end.

Rosella continued to lean on the door for support, although was also prepared to rush and grab his arm to assure him he wasn't failing if he crashed into dejection. However, Dad didn't bolt or make nervous ramblings to fill the tense silence.

"Trying is better than nothing."

Rosella changed into some heavier clothing for the chilly winter morning and when she arrived at the agreed spot, just beneath the infamous largest tree on the castle grounds, she was surprised how fast Dad already set up a target that looked as if they had been repaired and repainted blue and red several times over. The only light they had was the twinkling stars and moon, which were offensively limited. No light would be a problem despite the target being vividly colored, but Dad was unbothered. He didn't even say anything as he guided her to a decent enough spot from the target and gave her the bow.

Rosella only knew there were a lot of emotions surrounding this particular bow, so she gained a lump in her throat trying to work up the nerve to ask how to use it. She found it reassuring when the proper method was branded on his brain, and he was able to set up the arrow and show the ideal angle as if he trusted her to be able to feel the knowledge flowing within and become an instant expert.

That was the only time he ever looked sure about anything.

All Rosella ever knew was swords or axes, so this still had her hand trembling. She wasn't worried to fire the arrow or anything obviously untrue like that, but she did keep glancing to Dad as he stepped back in anticipation. She wanted to delay this somehow as she worked through her nerves because it wasn't just the different style of weapon ripping away any reassurance she tried to build.

She thought about joking how Dad had been planning this for years after the times she got him to be her sparring partner. When she was about to attempt, he came close again and tried and subsequently failed to not look awkward covering her hand for a moment until the trembling stopped.

"You just don't want me to accidentally shoot the arrow backwards through a window." Rosella pathetically explained for him, countering his nervously twitching mouth with a smile.

"You always learned fast." Dad said with surprisingly earnest fondness, not fully returning the smile but effort was there.

"Too bad that wouldn't help me if I had to lead a kingdom." Rosella muttered, knowing he was close enough to hear.

She gave him a nod, and he reeled back like he'd been bitten or stung. The suspense trying to kill him. Death by suspense might sound ludicrous, but only if one hasn't spent enough time with the man.

Their moment didn't stop the arrow from sailing very far above the target, still flying into the night without ever making even the quietest thud to indicate an obstacle managed to catch it.

Today, Helena and I talked about the future. The first of the fourteen-year-old journal entries read. She said she already knows she's going to train as much as she can and teach the ways of the blade. I told her I wanted to travel the world where no one knows my name, defending them and going away quick as I arrived. She smiled encouragingly, but I knew what she was thinking. "Well, Mom and Dad would have a backup plan for the backup plan if I left the kingdom. Besides, I can come back any time. But I want you, Mom and Dad as well to know I'd never make it as a queen someday." Helena was still smiling, and I cringed at how supportive she was next. "You'd be a great queen; you'd personally step out to the battlefield in your people's defense." I feel bad she had to say that like she believed it. She and I both know there's more to it. When I remember Dad became king before twenty, it's scary. I just don't think he'll want to share insecurities, especially old ones.

"I didn't want you kids to be worried about the fate of the throne that young." Dad belatedly mentioned, giving her another arrow. He sped through lining her up again, this time lower. "You and Alexander are free to do anything you want now; you can figure everything out in your mid-twenties and come back to Daventry if you want, but your mother and I are making sure it's not critical."

Rosella didn't know how to respond to that, instead gave him a nod he could step back. Her fingers wanted to tremble, wanting to grip much more securely. There was something comforting about a hilt or handle, and the set up for a shot took long in comparison to pointing a blade. She finally fired, and the arrow landed in the wider range of blue so close to the edge of the target.

"You were right when you thought I wouldn't want to talk about the early days of my reign." Dad said behind her, his tone flat. "I lost people and made mistakes long before getting the crown. Then I thought I was going to lose all the people who were willing to be nice to me, and even though they survived and moved on I have to live with the memory of struggling under responsibility. Then I met your mother; I have all the proof in the world our love is mutual, but I still have to ask why. Then I became a father, and you know all I ever expected from you and Alexander was to just be safe and never have any conflict in your lives. And between each step, I'm breaking down. You've seen for yourself; I'm barely running this kingdom anymore. Because I play a part, but I only do it because everyone else says I'm logical or compassionate or brave-"

Rosella finally had to sigh loudly, interrupting him as she swiped the arrow he held out with accidental force. "You have every one of those qualities, and that's why even when you're not officially doing royal business you're important. You're not just important to the kingdom, no, you're important to your family and friends who all do care for you – if it's one big show, and everyone's acting then I've been lied to all my life!"

"I can't wait for the curtains to be pulled back to find out this whole life was a show!" Dad blurted with enthusiasm impossible to fake.

Rosella rolled her eyes, before she turned back to the target and tried to ready herself on her own. She got it mostly right, but Dad instinctively took her arms and fixed their position mere seconds before she fired again. She didn't know if it was a desire to be successful or Dad's last-minute help that caused the arrow to land a lot closer to the red this time, but even with a large gap from the wide blue to the dead center speck of red she was satisfied with that and handed the bow back to him before hurrying to the target to clear it.

The only thing to sit on other than cold ground was a stump, and Rosella claimed that while watching Dad take her previous place across from the target. His form was the same as the one he tried to set her in, seemingly on command. He didn't hesitate, never doubting the arrow would stick dead center.

"I think you'd make a good queen, too. Not just because of any inherited traits, but because of the desire to help others and how much you care." Dad said softly, making it only barely audible above the tension of the arrow.

I've decided I'll have to leave Daventry someday. The second journal entry said. I think about Mom and Dad randomly referring to things as adventures, even if they were the most mundane tasks ever and it sounds nice. A grander scale adventure, I mean. I imagine myself on a real boat- A ship. I'm on the ship, wind in my hair and Katherine in reach and I'm passing by all kinds of lands I've only heard references to. I'd like to see new sights and meet new people. I want to go somewhere where they have no idea I'm a princess, maybe even tell myself I'm commoner enough to believe it. I've never been in a life-threatening situation, and I want to help others who might be just when I happen to be visiting like it's fate. I hope that doesn't mean I can't identify someone in danger. I'll need a name for this line of work that's not clunky. Evil Slayer? Wandering Hero? Free Blade? It sounds like mercenary work, but I'm not looking to be paid so I need to make sure I have the correct brand.

The arrow struck the center.

And Rosella buried her face in her hands, groaning in despair. "I'd feel better if you had no faith in me at all! You're going to make it too difficult to leave!"

The third arrow was already prepared, this time it sounded like the pressure on it was varying just before Dad's surprisingly sure reply. "You should live however you want to, Rosella. I can't change; I'll always be biting my nails, worried if you're safe but I think it's selfish to keep you here when it's something you've always wanted."

The arrow launched across the yard, somehow managing to find one spot of the center left to stab into and not break off. Dad didn't immediately go to collect them, however, instead he stood next to her.

"Do you still want to travel?" Dad's eyes flickered around as if trying not keep his feelings under check, he failed. His eyes brightened just like the rest of his face as the words rushed out. "The best news you could give me is that curiosity and the unexplained pull toward adventure has been passed on to both of my children. Tell me you haven't changed your mind."

Rosella immediately stood, meeting his eyes despite what damage might be done to hers from the intense brightness. "It's been passed on."

She expected them to hug right there, but both contained themselves when it didn't matter. They did share a look of understanding before Dad whirled and went to collect the arrows with a notably brisk pace. Obviously, Rosella didn't need permission to leave but she had to know if she would cause the kingdom to fall into chaos because one of its potential rulers was gone. She didn't know why she worried there would be a lot more issue with that. She didn't know why she worried she ever had to worry about ever having true conflict with Dad.

They soon swapped the bow, and Rosella could sense Dad was in such a good mood he might try floating off the ground. It was contagious, and she almost couldn't keep the arrow still the first two attempts. Arrow one managed to get stuck at the lowest end of the target while the second sailed over but at least got stopped by the humongous tree this time.

But if I ever leave... The third journal entry said. I want to know that Mom and Dad will be okay. Am I too childish for wanting to wake up every day knowing they'll be around? It sounds stupid in my head, but someday they won't there. I'm not sad about it. I'm just making a point. They're not, you know, too old so I'm not worried it'll be in the next year, but I don't want to regret ANYTHING. I know that Dad loves me just as much as Mom does, and I know he doesn't always believe I love him. I just want him to know that. Just give me enough time to show Dad he doesn't have to feel alone or sad all the time. I can't leave him behind. I can't leave without making everything perfectly clear. But it feels like no amount of progress is enough. "What happened to you, Dad?" I can't ask; he won't want to answer, and I don't want to make him uncomfortable.

He wanted his family, little else.

She wanted her family, little else.

Maybe if they truly spent time apart, they would be able to focus on other things. Not forget each other, of course. It's just that even when Dad tried to block out the world or claimed he wasn't there enough, he was there. Maybe being an ocean apart might give them a chance to focus on other people or matters, then when they met again it could be beautiful and heartwarming... Even worth applause from bystanders. They could dream.

A dull noise indicated the arrow landing a hair beneath red. Rosella squinted, wondering if that was just a trick from a combination of the darkness and her own concern about not disgracing the bow itself and it didn't feel real until Dad's cheer struck her ears.

One night wasn't enough to become an archer, decide on a name to advertise combat services, look over maps and plan which kingdom to visit or settle eighteen years' worth of issues. What they called a "talk" ended up being more stray reactions to various parts of the journal entries. It kept it surprisingly light even when Dad alluded to bad moments in his past by assuring her she didn't need to regret having grown up away real-world problems. That his declaration to keep her safe years ago didn't run out just because she was older. If she lived to old age and he, well, barely hanging on himself he'd protect her with sheer willpower. Rosella hoped her eyes didn't flick to quick sadness rather than security.

With the way he knelt to her level while she sat on the stump and gathered her hand far sweatier and shakier than either would have liked it seemed he was silently adding a layer to the original declaration. Rosella could see it was easier back when she couldn't talk, couldn't reply or call out his low quality that way. Dad was obviously learning from Mom how to send waves of comfort through his palms, covering one of Rosella's with both of his.

Rosella turned over his hands, removing hers so she could be holding his instead. She might have had a grip like delivering tragic news but did so convinced she was the one whose hope was displayed for all to see on her face this time.

"Can you also promise me you'll find time to smile and laugh when I'm away?" Sounded like the most off topic, ridiculous request to her own ears.

Dad seriously contemplated it, however, moving his head around while each stage of coming around to either accepting or rejecting swam through his eyes.

"Dad, I know you're capable of it."

He never officially replied to that, merely scoffing exaggeratedly and proving her point with a grin before poorly redirecting the emotions by suggesting they get back to archery. Rosella thought she wouldn't have her father or life any other way even if she was granted fate's pen and parchment and given the power to change whatever her heart desired.

Fin