Hello loyal readers! Yes, another chapter so soon! I do try to keep my promises :)

Thank you to everyone who continues to follow, read, and review this story. Your support means a lot. A special shout out to the following reviewers:

MinzyV, LuckiestWitchAtHogwarts, Guest, Chibi Horsewoman, Kerfluffle, Saraaaaaaaa, AngelCutie ChildAtHeart, and You Don't Know Me150.

Thanks for your continued support. I hope you all enjoy this new chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own Winx Club or the song included in this story: Extra Ordinary by Lucy Hale.

Enjoy!


Musa had longed for many years to be able to learn more about her planet's history and to have something of her mother's. The fact that she got both desires in one journal, well, surely no one was that lucky. Yet, there Musa sat, at her mother's desk, in a secret music room untouched by the Valkarians. In her hands were the handwritten thoughts and feelings of her mother. Some long-lost information and secrets of her realm. Musa had no idea how she should feel. Should she feel happy? Surprised? Angry? Any normal person would feel that way but all she felt was shock and sadness. The answers that Musa had been longing for were hidden away right under their noses. Like a reminder that her mother left with so many questions and so very little answers. Everything in that room should have been something passed down from mother to daughter, but they were not. Everything written should have been something taught by mother to daughter. The entire room was something created by her mother and for a decade had been left to gather dust when it should have been celebrated and enjoyed. Why create something to bring joy to others and let it sit in silence. If Musa and Tecna had not gone searching through the books, would the secret room have ever been discovered? What other secrets is the castle hiding that Musa had no knowledge of? All those things brought sadness to Musa. All reminders of what could have been and what had been lost.

"The Melodian crystals somehow grant resources to realms?" Tecna said in shock.

"No," Musa whispered back, broken from her train of thought. "They are the life force of my realm. My mother gifted some crystals to the Valkarians to help give them resources when the farmers could not grow anything in winter."

"The time of great prosperity," Tecna surmised, remembering the Valkarian history books they read.

"The Valkarians….they….they must have gotten used to relying on the crystals and somehow the crystals stopped producing resources. They eventually dried up."

"So, the Valkarians invaded other realms. They needed resources and coupled with revenge for the Queen's death, they were all too happy to invade Melody," Tecna finished. "It is an extraordinary theory but, we do not have enough evidence to support that."

"The evidence in this journal says otherwise, Tecna. What other theory is there that matches what this journal says?"

"But all of this does not explain what is happening to Melody," Tecna said. "We have crystals a plenty on this planet. Why are there no resources? Why is there no more magic?"

"I do not know," Musa answered. "But I am sure I will find the answers in this journal."

"Do you think the Valkarians know? That is why they are so protective over the crystals?"

"You overheard what the prince said. They see them as tokens of war, to show their superiority over the Melodians. If they knew the power the crystals had over their resources and ours, then I am sure they would have stolen every crystal and took them back to home. Why stay here otherwise?"

"Then it begs the question of how the crystals brought about resources then," Tecna thought aloud. "The history books said that the resources started declining after the Queen's death on Valkaris. If the crystals were the power sources then why would their losing power, so to speak, coincide with a queen's death?"

"You are forgetting something, Tecna," Musa said, turning in her seat to face her friend. "She was not just any queen, she was a Melodian, and those crystals were Melodian. There is some link between Melodian blood and the power source of our crystals. My gut says so."

"Then how do we discover that? Our research has led us here but there is no book on this planet that can tell us about Melodian crystals now."

"Nothing except this journal. I am going to study this journal. I will read every page, study everything my mother said. The answer to the link must be in this book. Those books on the shelf over there should help us too."

"We cannot risk taking any of these books out of this room, Musa," Tecna said worriedly. "We may have free reign but if they catch either of us with a Melodian book, we will be executed."

"Then it is a good thing we do have free reign. No one will notice us missing for a few hours each day," Musa smirked.

"You cannot risk that, Musa," Tecna said. "If someone follows you here then it is over. You cannot come to this room so often. Your disappearance will be suspicious."

"Fine," Musa relented. "I promise that I will not come to this room so often, Tecna. But this all belonged to my mother. It is a part of me, and I cannot lose the opportunity to know her, not again."

"Ok, I understand. Just remember to watch your back. Darcy could be hiding anywhere, even the shadows."

"Then I guess I can only come here during the day then," Musa said before she stood up from the desk and walked over to the piano.

Musa's fingers gently grazed over the keys, remembering the last time her mother sung to her. Tears starting stinging in her eyes. She remembered being taught how to play musical instruments, particularly the piano, however, that was a long time ago. She could not remember the notes or which key was what. Tecna watched Musa stare longingly at the piano. As a child, Tecna remembered arriving at the palace to play with Musa only to find her hands dancing gracefully over the beautiful piano. It was as if Musa was born to play music. She picked up reading music like it was her own language. She took to playing each instrument taught to her like it was an extension of her body. She was talented. Like all talents, though, practice is required to maintain the skill. Surely there was a music book or sheet music hidden somewhere in the room for Musa to relearn? It could be hard, though, Tecna thought, as the queen was a master of her craft. She would not need sheet music to play. It all would have been from memory.

Tecna, though, was a stubborn young lady. She was determined to bring her friend happiness. So, Tecna walked over to the bookshelf as Musa started gliding her fingers over the guitars. Tecna's eyes scanned every single book in the shelf, looking for thin spines of music books. Each time she saw a thin book, she took it out hoping to find what she was looking for, only to return it seconds later. Tecna then looked at the piano. Perhaps a musician kept those books closer? Tecna walked over to the piano and examined every surface. That is when she found it. The width of the space underneath the keys was thicker than what it should have been. Tecna crouched down and ran her fingers underneath the keys until she found a gap. Without hesitation, Tecna's fingers caught the gap and slowly pulled. A very thin tray pulled out a few inches revealing a storage compartment filled with old music books, sheet music, and handwritten notes. The noise coming from the piano caught Musa's attention and she turned to find the tray in the piano and Tecna smiling widely.

"What did you do?" Musa asked, rushing over to the piano.

"I found your mother's hidden stash," Tecna joked fondly.

Musa's eyes widened as she stood next to her friend. Her eyes found the old music books that were very familiar to her and the sheet music. Her eyes though soon drifted over to the handwritten notes. She gently picked one up and found the same cursive writing.

"My mother wrote her own sheet music," Musa whispered, tears immediately flooding her eyes. "These are all hers."

Tecna gently wrapped an arm around her friends shoulders to comfort her. How Musa had not fainted at the number of shocks today was a miracle. Any normal person would have been overwhelmed by now. Tecna suddenly saw a sealed envelope with a wax seal on the back underneath the note that Musa had removed. Tecna slowly pulled it out and read Musa's name in cursive writing on the front.

"Musa," Tecna whispered in shock. "This is yours."

Musa looked at her friend and then the beautiful envelope in her hand. Noticing the handwriting, Musa placed the note back in the tray before taking the envelope from Tecna. The wax seal on the back was the royal family crest.

"A note from my mother," Musa gasped.

That was the last straw. Musa could not hold back the tears anymore and they burst from her eyes like water out of a dam. She immediately dropped to her knees and cradled the envelope to her chest. Tecna was right by her side and held of friend as she cried. Who knew how long the letter had been kept in the piano was anyone's guess? All the pain, sadness, and grief Musa had been feeling when she entered the room finally boiled over. The entire room and its contents were the last things Musa had of her mother. No one had touched it in over a decade. Everything was left the same as if the queen were suddenly going to return at any minute. The last thing of her mother. The last words she wrote to her daughter were everywhere in that room, including in her hands. Musa was not going to let this be taken from her too. She was done losing anything more of hers.

"When you are ready, Musa," Tecna whispered softly. "You will read that letter."


King Kataar sighed happily as he poured himself another glass of Scotch in his study. He had not heard any more rumours of rebellion since his last conversation with Darcy, the new recruits his son added to the army were proving very useful, and the Siren had kept out of trouble. Yes, the king was surprisingly happy. He leant back in his brown leather chair and turned to the photo sitting on the side table. It was one of his personal favourites. It was the first time he had danced with his wife. The beautiful velvet dress had hugged every curve in the right place but displayed all the modesty a royal should. The sparkle in her eyes when she smiled. How her hands fit perfectly in his while they danced. He was never one to believe in love at first sight and yet she made him a believer. She was the epitome of elegance and grace, with the fire of a Valkarian. She was kind to all her people. An elegant spitfire, he liked to call her. In public, she was the perfect lady of the court but behind closed doors, her quick wit, stubbornness, and ways of challenging him were the things that the king loved about her. She challenged him to see things differently. She never let anyone control her. Her beauty, kindness, and gentle nature was just added bonuses and made the court very agreeable with her as his chosen queen. She was unlike any creature he had ever met and that was why when she died, so did he. He could never forget the image from his mind until the day he died. Finding her cold and alone on the floor of their bedroom with a fallen goblet of wine next to her was frightening. The king knew from the lingering smell on the goblet that she had been poisoned. She had a long day, visiting with dignitaries that arrived on Valkaris to re-sign trade agreements. She wanted to freshen herself up before the big dinner. The king knew he should have gone with her. His gut had been begging him to go with her that day, but he did not. King Ho-Boe from Melody and King Cryos of Zenith convinced him to join in a quick game of poker with the other kings. Two games in and the queen never returned. He remembered falling to his knees in despair, clutching his wife in his arms begging her to wake up. His cries must have been heard by the knights for they rushed in with the doctor and Queen Rachel of Linphea. He remembered struggling with his guards as they tried to pull him away from his beloved. The doctor and Queen Rachel pulled his wife away from him. Kataar remembered Queen Rachel glowing green and placing her hands over his wife as the doctor examined the goblet. Sky Flower, Kataar remembered Queen Rachel saying as she glowed. The doctor said it was commonly known as Golden Dewdrop found on several planets, including Melody. After a few minutes of fighting, Queen Rachel stopped glowing and looked at Kataar. Kataar knew what she was about to say, and he shoved his knights away and clutched at his wife again.

"I am so sorry," Queen Rachel whispered, tears in her eyes. "She is gone. I cannot heal her or bring her back."

"She did not suffer, Sire," the doctor added.

Their voices fell on deaf ears as the king remembered simply seeing the pale complexion of his wife and her closed eyes. He would never again see those beautiful purple eyes again or hear her beautiful voice.

"Daddy!" a child's voice echoed. "Daddy, what happened to Mommy?"

Kataar remembered his little boy's small voice as he ran to the commotion. He always came to pick up his mother for dinner. It was their tradition. Riven always escorted his mother to dinner. Kataar should have known better. He should have followed his wife to freshen up and he should have kept Riven away but, when you see your beloved on the floor, all rational thought just disappears.

"Get him out!" Kataar spat out with growl.

"No!" Riven yelled as he fought the guards, trying to get to his mother. "Mommy!"

"Get him out, dammit!"

It was the last time Riven saw his mother. Kaatar was a strong man and was capable of love. He loved his wife and son more than anything in the world. He was a warrior and did what ever was necessary to keep his people and family safe so he had little to regret but, although he would never admit it, he did have two. To this day he regrets not following his wife and keeping her safe. The other was allowing his only son to see his mother like that.

Darcy's investigation found that Melodian rebels snuck into the palace and poisoned the queen, and King Ho-Boe's poker game was merely a distraction. All the dignitaries said it was a mistake, but Darcy had all the evidence. Kataar remembered kicking everyone out of his realm and remembered his last words to his wife's dear friends:

"I promise Matlin, your people will pay for this."

"My people did not do this, Kataar. You know this. Miranda may have been your queen, but she was still one of us. We do not hurt our own."

"You will know the pain of losing a loved one, Matlin. Now, get out of my kingdom."

Even after getting revenge for his wife, it never fixed the pain in the king's heart. Valkarians did love but the Kataar never remembered his own parents sharing the kind of love that he experienced with Miranda. It was hard to put into words. Of course, he never told his son of the love they shared. He did not want Riven to experience the kind of pain he did. His son was strong, but that kind of pain would destroy him.

A knock echoing on the study door broke the king, gratefully, from his thoughts. He called back for the visitor to enter and he found Darcy saunter in. She gave a quick bow to the king.

"Ah, Darcy," the king said, putting his glass down on the side table. "I see you have learnt to knock."

Darcy said nothing in response.

"You are clearly not in the mood for jokes which could only mean you are here on business. What is it?"

"It is about The Siren," Darcy answered sourly.

The king's demeanour immediately darkened. "What about her?"

"I fear that she is hiding something."

The king chuckled. "She is Melodian. Of course, she is hiding something."

"And yet you give her free reign of the palace."

"She only has access to parts of the palace. She has shown, at least, respect to the way things run around here."

"A woman who has spent her entire childhood disobeying and combating us does not suddenly show respect overnight."

"Correct. She has shown it over the last few months. If I truly thought she was one of us, Darcy, then she would have access to everywhere. She would be permitted to marry a Valkarian. She would be permitted to live like any one of my subjects. She does not. She has shown some respect, so I give a little reward in return to keep her people in line."

"I know she is up to something, Sire. I heard her talking to the courtiers the other day."

"Oh? The courtiers? Those gossips? Are you telling me, Darcy, that you are yet again disturbing me over a lousy piece of gossip?" The king growled as he slowly stood up from his seat, now towering over Darcy. "Did I not warn you of what would happen if you did again?"

"Sire," Darcy said, taking a step back away from the king. "I am not here on what they said. I am here to warn you. I fear that the Siren is up to something and I want to know what."

"You are my magical advisor, Darcy. Do not be stupid enough to think that you have any more liberties than that. You do not get to follow my people around like a spy. You are ordered to stay in your lane and not follow anyone. Stay out of the shadows, Darcy, and that is an order."

"But Sire-"

"If you find evidence that does not come from spying from the shadows then we will discuss further but for now, get the hell out of my sight."

Sensing that the discussion was over, Darcy nodded her head and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. The king sighed in annoyance before collapsing back into his chair.

"That woman will be the death of me."


It had been a few days since Musa and Tecna discovered the secret music room in the library. Over that time, Musa snuck away for two hours each day reading over the music books and sheet music. She wanted to re-learn how to play the instruments so she would at least have a part of her mother with her. She started to remember which chords were which on the guitars, how to transition between then, and the keys on the piano. It was slowly coming back to her. She was scared though. A huge part of her wanted to run to the piano and play but music of any kind on Melody was forbidden. She had spent the last decade learning to avoid singing, playing, or humming. If she were caught playing, she would be executed. For now, she was content with simply re-learning how to play and read sheet music.

The door opening to the room caused Musa to jump from her seat on the couch and look to find Tecna walking in. She smiled at her friend. Of course, it would be Tecna. No one else knew of the room's existence, let alone the secret phrase to open the door.

"Hi Musa," Tecna greeted with a smile. "What are you doing?"

"Just re-learning how to read music and play instruments."

Tecna nodded and walked over to the couch opposite Musa and sat down.

"Are we going to talk about it?" Tecna asked after a few minutes of silence.

"Talk about what?" Musa asked as she read a music book.

"The big elephant in the room, Musa," Tecna answered. "Your mother's letter."

"There is nothing to talk about."

"There is," Tecna said. "Have you read it?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"You said that I will read it when I am ready. I am not ready, Tecna."

"Why not?"

"Because that letter is the last thing my mother will ever say to me," Musa said looking up from her book. "For the last decade, the last words I thought my mother said to me were 'Remember who are you. You are our people's only hope.' Now, I find that she wrote me a letter too. That perhaps the last words she said to me were not out of fear. That were not reminders of my failure to protect my people. Of the massive weight that is on my shoulders. The pressure to succeed in this rebellion. My mother died protecting me. She died because she wanted me into this so-called chamber that I have never seen before. I live with that guilt and failure and pressure every single day. I cannot read that letter knowing that the words in there could potentially be worse than what I remember."

"But what if they are better, Musa?"

"What if they are words written before that day? I will still be left with the same remembered words."

"But you will not be worse off then."

"No," Musa said shaking her head. "I….I cannot read it. Not yet."

"That is fine, Musa. I was not lying when I said you will read it when you are ready. I just do not want you to miss the opportunity of reading more from your mother."

"Believe me, Tecna, when I say that I am done losing things that are important to me."

"Have you read more of her journal then?" Tecna asked.

"No. I just…..I just wanted to read these books. These music sheets. A part of her lives on in these books and instruments. She was the last person to play that piano and sing to me. She was supposed to teach me how to play the piano as well as her. It was tradition. Music has always been a Melodian tradition. Now, it is more important. It is my last link to her. I need to be able to play music again, Tecna."

"I understand, Musa," Tecna said with a soft smile. "Truly I do. Inventing keeps a link with my family too. I know that when we succeed, we both can do what we love to remember our families."

"If only my dad was here to help me. He loved the guitar as much as my mother loved the piano. These books are helpful, but I know I cannot be a master without one of them guiding me."

"Your father is not truly gone, Musa," Tecna said. "He is still alive. He is alive in this palace."

"I have not seen him in 10 years. I do not know if he is alive anymore."

"He is, I promise you. My rebel contact assures me of that. When we save you, we will be saving your father too. Then he can teach you everything you want to know."

"I can only hope that I will learn it all in time."

"Musa, you have come so far is such a short time. There is no one more capable at such a feat as you. I know you will do this."

"Thanks, Tecna," Musa said with a smile. "That means a lot."

"That is what friends are for," Tecna said before she noticed one of the handwritten notes in Musa's pile beside her. "What is on that note?"

Musa turned and looked at the note, giving a smile. "My mother wrote it. She wrote a song."

"Wow, she was very talented."

"Yes," Musa said fondly. "She indeed was a master. I want to try to be like her."

"Can you read it yet?"

"I understand what the notes mean now. It is played on a guitar. It is half finished though. She only wrote the chorus, but it is lovely. The date on it shows that she wrote it when she was my age."

"She never finished it?"

"No, but the song sounds slightly sad. Perhaps she was lost at the time? I do not know. Maybe there is something in her journal about it."

"Well, when you have finished remembering how to play the guitar, perhaps you could try finishing the song? Create the verses."

"A lovely thought, Tecna, but after years of music deprivation, I do not think I am capable of that."

"You never know, Musa," Tecna said, standing up from the couch. "Inspiration comes best when it is from the heart."

Musa watched as her friend left the room to go back to her palace duties and cover for Musa. Perhaps Tecna was right. Inspiration and music are best when come from the heart. The music room did bring back some lovely but sad memories of her mother. Perhaps some fresh air in the gardens was what Musa needed and that was where she ended up several hours later.

Musa wondered one of the many garden areas around the palace, lost in her own thoughts. In the far distance she noted a few groups of new recruits sparing with each other, but Musa paid them no attention. She did happen to notice Sir Caelum and Sir Lance walking with Prince Riven and another recruit. Despite wearing the helmets, she noticed that the newcomer had dark brown hair, was more muscular than Sir Caelum and Sir Lance, but was only a tad shorter than the prince. For some strange reason she smiled when she saw the prince laugh aloud with the knights and clap them on the back. Such comradery from the prince. She had never seen him like that before. She had never seen him smile or laugh before. It was truly a strange sight but what was stranger was that she smiled at the prince. A smile? Not just a smile, but a smile and the feeling of butterflies in her stomach. No, that cannot be correct. Truly things were getting a bit out of hand. Musa started to feel a tad warm as she continued to stare at the man. She could not help but notice how the prince's build was the most masculine out of the entire group. Arms that have killed people. Killed people that may have been Musa's own people but what she focused on was that those arms killed for Musa. They killed Sir Jet for her. Why was she not scared of that fact? Logically she knew that the prince punished Sir Jet for disobedience and misconduct but, a small part of her wanted it to be because of her too. How twisted was that? She wanted a warrior prince, a killer, to have done a terrible thing for her. Not because they were trained to do it, but because they wanted to protect her. Hold up! Rewind. Musa wanted the prince to protect her? No! No, no, no. That cannot be true. Clearly her emotions were all over the place from reminiscing about her mother. Before Musa could chastise herself further, her mental rambling was stunned into silence when the prince turned, and his striking eyes caught hers staring at him. Busted! She was open in the middle of the gardens staring at the prince and she had no excuse to pretend otherwise. She did not even have a tree to hide behind. She was clearly staring at him. Her embarrassment was clear as day on her face as dusty pink appeared on her cheeks, and she turned her head to hide it.

The prince turned to whisper something to the knights before they bowed and walked away. The prince stood a few seconds staring at Musa before he slowly made his way over to her. Musa could have run away, pretended that she heard Tecna calling for her, but she knew that she needed to get on the prince's good side again. Every interaction they have had lately were disasters. She needed more than a few minutes with the man if she wanted his trust. Soon the prince was within two arms-length from Musa and it was too late to change her mind.

"Spying is an un-ladylike quality, Lady Musa," the prince said after a few seconds of silence.

So, we are back to Lady Musa now? How the tides quickly change. Musa decided to respond with a simple curtsey to the prince, earning an eye roll in return.

"It is rude not to answer someone who is speaking to you," the prince added.

"Forgive me, Sire, but I thought that we were not allowed to talk anymore," Musa said.

She was correct. The fight in the library finished with the prince saying that he was not supposed to talk to her, and the latest one ended with him saying not to bring up his mother. She could not afford to let her temper get the better of her again. The prince shrugged at Musa's response.

"You were spying on my men. I should tell you that most of them are spoken for."

Musa could not help the eye roll that quickly followed. "I was not spying on them, Your Highness."

"Do you prefer the term ogling then?"

Musa scoffed. Why were people accusing her of ogling people suddenly?

"A lady does not ogle, Sire. I was merely surprised to find you laughing."

"Laughing is not allowed?" the prince said with a smirk.

The prince was really pushing Musa's patience, but she needed to remain calm. He was the one who came over to her and initiated conversation. If they were caught, then that would be her saving grace.

"Since I have met you, Sire, you have not once laughed or smiled in my presence. To find you doing both at once, and in front of your knights, I find surprising."

"I am not as cold and unforgiving as you make me out to be, Lady Musa," the prince said seriously. "My warriors and I share a bond that I am sure you can appreciate. We see things that others, hopefully, never shall. We bond over those sights so that we may not have to speak of them in polite company. You must trust the people that you fight with so that you know someone will always have your back. A lack of trust in an army is a useless one, Lady Musa."

"You are right, I can appreciate that," Musa said putting on her sweetest and fakest smile. "It seems from my experience, though, they are the only ones who have had the pleasure of your smile and laugh."

"As I said, I am not as cold and unforgiving as you make me out to be."

Musa tried, she really did try, to hold in the scoff that was building but she could not. She scoffed and rolled her eyes at the prince's response, earning a scowl and eye raise from him.

"And here I thought that ladies of the court were meant to be polite," the prince said in annoyance.

"We are polite unless we hear something that is dishonest. I do not make you out to be cold and unforgiving, Your Highness, you do that yourself."

"Oh?" the prince said taking a few steps closer to Musa. "Since you seem to know me so well, then please enlighten me."

"You have been away at school for years and missed a lot in that time. Then, as soon as you return, you storm into the palace like you own it, without even a polite word. You greet everyone with a cold nod staring at them, like you see past them and will forget about them as soon as they walk away. You kill people, perhaps even my people, without hesitation or remorse. You stand around like you are bored and have other places to be. That is what you portray, Sire. I do not make you out to be anything but what you so clearly display. The women of the court may fawn all over you, but I do not."

"You seem to have me all figured out, Lady Musa," the prince said seriously as he stared into Musa's eyes.

"You do not own this palace, Sire, neither do I. Your father does. When he greets people, he sees them and remembers their name."

Of course, Musa was lying. She could still play the game even when annoyed.

"I am a warrior prince, Lady Musa," the prince interrupted. "My role is to support the needs of my kingdom. I have been trained to do so in a way that is subtle. I do not need to stare directly into someone's eyes to remember who they are. When I first met you, I did not look you in the eye to know exactly who you were. You were crown Princess Musa of Melody. The little eight-year-old who clutched their mother's hand even after losing consciousness. A girl who loved her family more than her own life. A girl who refused to hide but stand with her mother till the end."

"You were there that day?" Musa whispered in shock as she saw Riven's eyes gaze into hers.

"My father brought me in after it was all over," Riven whispered seriously back. "The first time I saw you was when you lied unconscious on the hallway floor beside your mother. I did not need to look into your eyes to know who you were."

"Do not talk about my mother."

"But you are allowed to talk about mine?"

"I was trying to be kind to you," Musa hissed, forcing the tears in the eyes from falling. "To tell you that I understood your pain."

"Who said that I wanted your understanding or sympathy? Do not try to pretend that you know me, Lady Musa. You will only be disappointed."

Musa bit her lip so hard from preventing herself from saying something stupid that she started to taste blood. The prince's eyes drifted down slightly, noticing Musa's restraint, before returning to hers.

"I know who my mother was, Lady Musa. I do not need you questioning that," the prince said. "I am warning you, do not speak of my mother again."

"Why?"

"Because I said so."

"Then I am warning you, do not speak of my mother."

"Are you always this hypocritical? Talking about my mother but refusing to speak about yours."

"As I said, Your Highness, I thought when you spoke about your mother in the library that it was open for discussion. I was trying to find common ground with you, but it seems that I never will."

"You want common ground? Fine. I am the son of a widow who lost their wife to murder. You are the daughter of a widow who lost their wife to murder. Satisfied?"

"Do not be cruel."

"I am not being cruel, Lady Musa. I am merely stating a fact. You are so hell bent on finding common ground with me, but I am telling you that right now there is none and there cannot be."

"And why is that?"

"Because you are Melodian. That will never change, no matter how hard you try to pretend otherwise."

"I am not pretending," Musa lied.

The prince walked closer to Musa until he was only a hairs breath from her. She could feel the heat radiating from his body, encasing her. For some reason, it soothed her, and it terrified her. She wanted to vomit at knowing the prince found her and her mother the day of the siege. How pathetic.

"We both know that you are."

"If you think that then why have you not turned me in?"

The prince smirked. "Why would I turn someone in for pretending to be a Valkarian?"

"I am not pretending. I am a Valkarian," Musa lied again.

"Your studies are pointless, Lady Musa. You will never be a Valkarian."

"I need to be," Musa said harshly, struggling to fight the tears.

For a split second, Musa thought that she saw a flicker of sympathy and possible regret in the prince's eyes before they hardened. Perhaps it was simply the tears blurring her vision.

"You are not. You cannot. It is as simple as that. The only question is, why?"

Musa remained silent. Surely the prince was not figuring out her ruse. Not yet. She needed his trust and his information. The prince was silent as he stared into Musa's eyes. Musa could tell that the prince's brain was thinking, going through every hypothesis in his head.

"You do not need to pretend to be Valkarian to be safe here, Lady Musa," the prince eventually whispered.

"I am not pretending. I have adapted to a new culture."

"You are safe here."

Musa immediately threw herself back, putting distance between herself and the prince.

"Safe?" Musa spat angrily. "Is this what you call safe? This is my home. This is my realm. Your people have abused me for years. Blaming me for something that I did not do. Blaming my people for something they did not do. I have been publicly humiliated, publicly abused, attacked, mentally probed, everything. You think I am safe? You think that being anything other than a Valkarian keeps me safe? How dare you! You may be a Valkarian prince, but I assure you that I am not afraid to stand up to you. Being a Valkarian is the only thing that keeps me safe. I have not seen my father since I was a child. I watched my mother die. I have watched my people suffer and I have scars on my body from your people, from your father. Being a Melodian did that to me. Being a Valkarian allowed me freedom."

"You are safe with me, Lady Musa," the prince said.

"You left!" Musa yelled with tears finally falling down her cheeks. "You left this place years ago. I was not safe then. You cannot come back here and say that I am safe with you. What have you done to protect me? Your people have hurt me. Your people have humiliated me. Your people took my family away. The only thing you have done is punish Sir Jet. The only reason why I have remained unharmed is not because you came back, Your Highness, it is because I have assimilated."

"I do not apologise for leaving, Lady Musa," the prince said softly. "It was necessary."

"Yes, education for the prince is important," Musa scoffed. "You coming back to the palace had no influence on my safety. My assimilation of Valkarian culture did. I am not safe being anything other than a Valkarian."

"You are safe with me, Lady Musa," the prince said firmly. "You are pretending, and you are living a lie."

"Why do you care?"

The prince was silent in response.

"Why do you care if I am safe or not? No other Valkarian has ever been concerned about whether I am pretending or not. They have only cared about my blood and when I assimilate, they suddenly become concerned. So why do you care?"

Again, the prince did not respond to Musa.

"Got nothing to say? It is not nice when someone else probes you, is it? Like you said, we should not be talking. I mean, we would not want anyone of the court knowing you were talking to the Siren."

Without another word, Musa turned around and stormed off, leaving a silent prince behind. The prince stood stoic and silent as he watched the woman storm off, back into the palace. Musa held her composure as she walked into the palace. Subtly hiding her face as she walked to hide her tear-stained face. She maintained a brisk pace but not fast enough to arouse suspicion. She smiled politely at the courtiers and servants and she moved through the palace. Soon, she found herself back in the library and rushed in. She called out for anyone inside before rushing to the one place she could find solace. She was such an idiot. How could she let her defences down like that? What happened to being sweet and polite? She basically gave the prince an ear full but how dare he! Claiming that Musa was pretending and was safe with him. He was the son of the man that stole her realm and family. He had done nothing but be a pain in the back side since he returned. She was such an idiot for losing her cool. There was no hope in getting the prince on her side now. The thing that killed her though was that he was right. She was pretending. She was pretending to be a Valkarian. She was living a lie, but she had to, to protect herself and her people she needed to. She would do anything to save her people. Of course, she wanted to be herself and do whatever she wanted without risk of execution, but she could not. Not while King Kataar had her people under his control.

Musa slammed the door to the music room closed, leaning heavily against the back of the door. She heaved deeply, trying to settle her racing heart and push back the tears. She wanted to scream and kick anything in her path. Damn him. Damn him for reading her well. Damn her for losing her cool. Stupid girl. He will never be on their side now. Musa did not know how to calm her emotions, so she let her instincts kick in. She ran over to her mother's old desk and grabbed a pencil and piece of paper. Without another word, she started writing. She wrote all her pent-up feelings and emotions. If she could not say them out loud then she would write them down.

Musa had no idea how long she had been writing. It could have been a few minutes or hours, but Musa never looked at the clock as she wrote. With every stroke of the pencil and every sentence completed, Musa started to feel better. Soon, she had a few pages of words written down. She finally put the pencil down and looked at the clock at the other side of the room. A whole hour had passed, just from writing her feelings down. When Musa looked back at the paper, she realised that it was not just words she wrote down but music notes. The notes followed the same notes and rhythm as the one her mother wrote. She finished the song. Musa stared at the paper in shock. It was like riding a bike. Everything her mother taught her, and she read the past few days came back and she finished the song. She looked at the acoustic guitar on its stand. Musa knew her mother wrote that song to make herself feel better during a time she needed it, but she never finished it. She probably was happy so there was no need to finish the song. For some strange reason, Musa suddenly smelt her mother's hand cream, almost like her mother was standing right next to her. Musa felt a pull in her body, almost like the guitar was begging Musa toward it, begging to be played. What if someone heard her play? She would be executed. The rebellion would end with her but, what if no one did? Those were her mother's instruments, this was her mother's song, and this was her mother's personal escape. This was her chance to reconnect with her mother, with the music that the pair loved. Did she really want to throw it away?

Without another thought, Musa picked up her notes, and the note written by her mother and set them down on the coffee table in the centre of the couches. She took a deep breath before gently picking up the acoustic guitar. She smelt her mother's scent again and felt a pain in her heart but also a sense of ease. She felt happy to be holding her mother's guitar. She slowly walked over to the couch and sat down. She gently held the guitar, admiring the handcrafted work in creating the instrument. On the back of the guitar was the royal crest and her mother's initials. The guitar was specifically made for her mother. Musa did agree that writing her feelings down and finishing the song did make her feel better. She wondered how she would feel when she finally sun after so many years.

Musa took another deep breath before gently strumming the chords down. The noise echoed in the room causing Musa to jump. She waited a few seconds, waiting for someone to barge into the room and arrest her, but nothing happened. She strummed down again and waited. Still, no one came. Musa practiced the notes with her left hand, trying to get the hang of it. She felt something warm covering her left hand, almost as if someone were covering a hand over hers, showing her the positions, but no one was around. Her insides warm. She knew her mother was there in the room with her. She knew she should keep going, so she started slowly strumming the guitar, getting a feel for the technique, before trying with the notes from the song. After a while, she felt confident to just lose herself in the song and connect with her mother.

I'm imprisoned, I've been living a lie
Another night of putting on a disguise
I wanna tear it off and step in the light
Don't you, don't you?

Musa had no idea how good it felt to finally sing for the first time in years. Tears sprung to her eyes again and hearing music. It had been so long, and she forgot what it was like to hear it. It made her feel warm and tingly on the inside, like empowering her. She wanted to yell out the lyrics but knew that would raise suspicion. So, she kept playing.

So now I'm knocking at your front door
And I'm looking for the right cure
I'm still a little bit unsure
'Cause I know,
Yeah I know

What Musa did not realise, as she closed her eyes and lost herself to the music, was that the feeling she felt was slowly moving around her body, from the pit in her stomach to the tips of her fingers. It was electric. It made her feel happy, and it made her feel less tired. Like an energy boost.

That most people see me as ordinary
But if you look close you'll find I'm very
Interesting and hard to know
You can never tell where this might go
'Cause I'm not your average, average person
I don't know much, but I know for certain
That I'm just a little bit extra, extra
I'm just a little bit extra ordinary

On the last word of her mother's chorus, a shock of electricity sprung on Musa's fingertips, causing her to jolt. She stopped strumming and looked down at her right hand. Shocks of electricity sprung from her fingers, glowing a slight blue-purple colour. When the echoes of the guitar strings finally stopped, so too did the sparks on her fingertips. Musa was so shocked at what she saw that she was silent for a few minutes. Surely what she saw was a mistake. She was hallucinating. But, the more she thought about it, the more she could not find other reasons for the electricity. There was only one thing going through her mind at that moment.

"Was that magic?" Musa whispered in shock.


I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! So many more secrets revealed :)

Let me know your thoughts.

Till next time!

~AngelAlexandra~