Another chapter! Things actually happen in this one. I'm not terribly certain that I want to keep it exactly as it is, but right now the important thing for me is to get it out in the first place.

I apologize to anyone who has actually studied medicine. I know little about this subject, and in this case I'm defending my ignorance with artistic license: it's different on Gaea.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As she looked at her beautifully made-up reflection, Celena began to cry.

This doesn't look like me. It's a joke. It's a symbol for how they think of me: just a girl. Just a face.

She did not tear her fine clothes off, but not for want of frustration. Rather, she was aware that the dress belonged to Millerna—and she wanted to make sure it stayed that way.

Standing in her shift, she began scrubbing at her face in the washbasin. The fluffy white towel came away with streaks of color: pale blue, to match her eyes, pink to give her some color, and black for her lashes. She cupped her hands under the water, and brought up handful after handful to rinse away her mask.

It rinsed away her tears, too.

When she had finished, she stood bent over the basin for a few moments, watching the water drip off her nose and back into the bowl as she clutched the sides. She noticed, for the first time, that her hands were long and sinewy. She stared at her prominent knuckles, her uneven nails.

They don't want to see who I am.

The sound of a door closing behind her pulled Celena out of her reverie. In the mirror she could see Millerna entering the room, a concerned look on her face.

"Are you alright?" She asked.

Celena stood, embarrassed. She picked up a clean, dry towel, and blotted her face dry to hide her expression. When she lowered the towel again, Millerna gave her a half-amused, half-sympathetic look.

"What?" Celena asked fearfully.

Millerna's expression softened all the way, and she turned her friend gently towards the mirror again. Celena saw that, as hard as she had scrubbed, the makeup was still on her skin, and all her efforts had done was to smear the stuff all over her face.

"Oh," she said, her voice quavering. She felt tears building up behind her throat once more.

"Here," began Millerna, "I've got a special cream that will take it all off. Stay here, I'll go get it. It won't take but a minute."

Celena nodded, and sat near the end of her bed as Millerna flashed her an encouraging smile and whisked off to her own chamber.

When the princess returned, she carried with her a small earthenware jar and two soft, color-stained rags. After closing the door, she crossed the room and sat down on the bed behind Celena, who half-turned to follow her friend.

"Here. Let me look at you, I'll just wipe the rest off, yes? You'll be back to normal in no time."

Celena turned the rest of the way around so that the two were facing each other. Millerna opened the jar, set it on her lap, and dipped in two, rag-covered fingers. Using her left hand to steady Celena's face, she began at the girl's right cheek, wiping gently in a circular pattern.

"It's cold," Celena said, surprised. "Feels kind of nice, actually."

"I always thought so. And it takes off makeup so easily. See?" said Millerna, as she showed Celena the pink- and black-tinted rag. The girl smiled.

As her physician's hands gently smoothed away the mess under Celena's eye, Millerna began to ask questions, her voice unusually subdued.

"Did something happen at dinner to upset you?"

"Yes…" Celena trailed off. Millerna waited for her to formulate her response.

"It's just that…it hurt so much that those noblemen wouldn't listen to me." Celena looked Millerna sadly in the eye. "It's as if they didn't even want to know that I can read."

"Ah." The princess's voice had a knowing tone to it. She sighed. "You know, I forget what it's like to realize it for the first time."

"Realize what?"

"That most men are perfectly happy to believe that women are nothing more than dolls. That most men will do a lot to make sure women can't be anything more than dolls."

Celena was thoughtful. "They tried to stop you studying medicine, didn't they."

"Dozens of times."

"How do you stand it?"

Millerna sighed again, and a pensive frown formed on her brow. Wiping away at Celena's left cheek now, she began,

"Sometimes I cry. Sometimes I plot out horrendously complicated and ineffective ways to take over the kingdom and make it a queendom. Mostly, though, I just keep doing what I feel is right. Maybe if I do it enough, people will start to change."

Millerna's half-hopeful, half-resigned tone hurt Celena, hurt her for making her feel so ineffectual against an overwhelming tide. She lowered her eyes, trying to respect the enormity of the situation with their aversion. The silence in which the two young women rested was another kind of communion, a place to allow their unspeakable emotions room to be un-said.

After a few moments, as Millerna finished wiping Celena's left eyelid, Celena chuckled to herself. When she looked up into her friend's face, she saw the princess giving her a quizzical expression.

"That explains the trousers, then." Celena imparted, amused at her own previous confusion over her friend's wardrobe.

Millerna looked surprised, and then threw her head back and laughed uproariously. "Yes! It certainly does!"

Celena had started laughing at Millerna's shocked expression, and the two girls dissolved into helpless giggles. Luckily Celena's face was clean by this time, and Millerna, still laughing, returned the lid to her jar and put the cloths carefully aside.

Then she pounced on Celena, who let out an undignified squawk as the princess tickled her abdomen.

"This is what you get for getting makeup on my towels! Ha!"

Celena's laughter helplessly swelled to fill the room. She flailed, trying to deflect Millerna's deft fingers, but to no avail. Twisting to her side, Celena tried to dart under the princess's arms to tickle her, but only ended up lying down under the onslaught. Millerna clearly had the upper hand, her left knee on the mattress, her right foot rooted to the floor. She continued to torture Celena, despite the girl's breathless pleas to the contrary.

"No—ha ha—I really mean—hee—it," she tried to get out. "Heh—please—yee hee—stop!"

Millerna leaned over Celena's face, mocking, "Not until you proclaim your loyalty to Queen Millerna!"

Celena stopped laughing.

"STOP TOUCHING ME!"

Her demand was punctuated by her right fist, which twisted up with lightening speed from the mattress and planted itself firmly in Millerna's eye. The princess staggered off the bed, left hand held to her eye, right hand held to the windowsill for support.

Breathing hard, Celena stared at her friend in shock. Millerna turned to look at her, and as their eyes met, the hurt in Millerna's expression drove a spike of guilt deep into Celena's heart.

The girl dashed to her feet, and was out the door in a heartbeat.

She sped through the palace halls without seeing their stone walls or painted decorations. Tears blurred her vision, and an internal monologue hounded her at every step.

That was so awful of me! She hates me now, I know it…and even if she doesn't, I hate myself. She's the only friend I've ever had, and I hurt her…DAMMIT WHY?! I'm such a mess, such a mess of a person, I shouldn't be allowed to interact with people…

When did I get so arrogant? Was it just having a friend that made me think I was queen of Gaea? I don't understand this!

She was in the courtyard now. She stomped the most direct route to the gate, but pulled up short when she saw the torch in the bracket by the service entrance. The flames captured her attention without effort, and drew her in without mercy. She was standing directly before it before she knew she had changed direction.

Amazing how something unalive can seem so vital. She freed the torch from the wall and turned around, starting back towards the stables. As she approached the building, she had completely forgotten about Millerna, had, in fact, completely forgotten about anything besides the fire.

The stable door stood slightly ajar, and Celena pushed through it to the dark interior. The torchlight cast deep, flickering shadows, and woke some of the horses. Many people passed through with torches, though, so the animals weren't alarmed.

She stopped at the first large pile of straw and tossed the flaming spar onto it.

The flames flared up immediately, and Celena's heart sang. Each straw incinerated was a poem, the wall of heat that singed her skin was love, the crackle and roar were hymns, and the garish light was the light of benediction. The girl shivered and started breathing harder as the fire in her body surged up to meet the fire in the stable. Her breath caught when the flames reached a wall, and she silently urged them forward.

##Burn!##

She heard a shout, and before she could turn around to see who it was, she was seized so brusquely that she nearly fell over. She struggled to see her captor, and was surprised to be looking up into Allen's angry face. He glared out at the fire and at those trying to smother it, yelling directions at those who would listen. As she was dragged inside, Celena saw people start to form a bucket chain, and others to free the horses while yet others brought sand.

Her bubble broke, and all the shouting and terrified animal shrieks crashed down on her.

Oh….gods. I set the stables on fire.

"AAAUUUUUGH!" She shrieked and struggled to free herself from her brother's grasp as he hustled her through the halls. "WHY? Why am I here? Why do you keep me? Why can't I be normal?! WHY DOES HE RUIN EVERYTHING I TOUCH??! Let me GO, don't touch me, I'm VILE!! DON'T LOOK AT ME!!"

"CELENA! Calm down!" Allen held her close, preventing her from lashing out. As he ushered her towards her room, her struggles to break free abruptly ceased, and her frustrated ranting changed into wordless sobs.

Her brother sat her down on her bed, and stroked her back while she continued weeping into his chest.

"Shh, shhh. Don't worry, Celena, we'll fix this."

The girl hiccupped and wound her hands tighter into Allen's shirt.

"Don't—see—how."

"Shh. I've called Millerna, I think she can help."

At the mention of the princess's name, Celena's crying redoubled. Allen wished he hadn't said anything, and continued stroking and rocking his sister, his baby sister.

After a few minutes, the door opened quietly. Millerna peeked in, asking softly,

"Celena?"

While her sobbing had diminished, the girl in question was still clinging to Allen as her lifeline, and tried to hide herself from the princess in her brother's arms. Millerna's concerned expression gained sympathy as she entered the room and shut the door behind her. As she approached the siblings, it became apparent that a reddish swelling surrounded her left eye.

"Celena, I'm not mad. I know about…your problem, Allen told me before you came.

"Doesn't matter," Celena's muffled, mucus-clogged voice answered, "You were trying to comfort me and I hit you."

"I still want to be your friend, Celena."

Celena sniffed, and turned her face to Millerna. "I'm so sorry," she squeaked.

"Shh, it's okay, it's okay," her friend soothed, kneeling down to hug the girl. Celena returned the embrace as strongly as she received it, and came away looking a bit calmer, if not happier.

"Now, Celena, you need to rest," Allen began. "We still don't know how to heal you, dammit, but…" He trailed off. Obviously he didn't want to continue.

Millerna looked at Allen, sighed, and turned to Celena, finishing the unpleasant task that the elder Schezar had left her.

"For now, we think sedation will at least keep you from hurting yourself."

Under normal circumstances, Celena would have been hurt by the idea. Now, however, overcome by guilt as she was, all she could think was that it was a reasonable idea.

"And burning down buildings," she added.

Allen winced and looked away, and Millerna nodded guiltily. "I'm sorry, Celena, we just need time to think…"

The girl nodded. "I understand. How are you going to do it?"

Relieved of the burden of breaking the news, Allen spoke first. "There's a special sleeping drug that's fairly common in medicine. Millerna knows how to use it correctly, so it will be safe." As he spoke, Allen started positioning Celena so that she was lying on her bed.

As he was fluffing the pillow under his sister's head, Millerna gave Allen a somewhat chastising look. Turning to Celena, she said bluntly,

"We have to inject you with it."

It was the look on Millerna's face, more than her words, that frightened Celena.

"Inject?"

Millerna nodded. "With a needle. It will hurt a little, but only once."

Celena sat up, and Allen tried to soothe her back into a reclining position. "Needle? What kind of needle can put stuff in me?"

Millerna had turned to her small black bag—that Celena hadn't noticed before that moment—and pulled out a small glass jar full of clear liquid, and a frightening apparatus that put Celena in mind of a giant, metallic mosquito.

"That?!" Her voice was shrill. "That's huge!"

"I'm not going to put the entire thing into you. Just a little bit," the self-studied physician replied. "I've done it on myself and on others before, it's not a very complicated procedure." As she was speaking, Millerna set the needle down and started swabbing at Celena's wrist, right over the blue veins, with a strange, yellow-black liquid.

"This is to keep it clean, so there's no infection." She swabbed the same stuff on the needle itself, and on the lid of the jar. As she did so, Celena realized that it was not a hard, metal lid, but rather seemed to be made of an elastic substance of some kind.

Cleaning completed, Millerna turned the jar upside-down with one hand and fitted her fingers into the many loops and grips of the syringe. Closing her hand, she inserted the tip of the needle into the jar. As her hand opened, the hollow chamber of the syringe filled with the clear liquid. When there was about an inch's worth of liquid inside, she stopped, and removed the needle.

"There. See? It's not that much."

Celena wasn't sure if she was comforted. She tried to relax, inhaling, exhaling, inhaling, and exhaling. She decided to give in to Allen's gentle pressure, and lay back against the welcoming pillows. Staring at the canopy of her bed, she tried to concentrate on her breathing.

She felt Millerna grasp her arm just below the elbow, and then the pressure of the needle as it entered her arm, and—

Celena exploded with fear. Fear came from all sides, from inside, from the walls and bed and floor. Fear came from Allen's worried face, and Millerna's sad one, both fading fast from view. Fear came from the colors that swirled once her vision darkened.

It all originated from the needle. She would have never agreed to this if she had known that needles were fear. If she had known that her panicked scream would die as she slipped into unconsciousness.

If she had remembered.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was going to hurt. He could tell by the way they were looking at him.

The worst part was not the pain. He knew that the needle would dull anything else they would do to him.

The worst part was the utter and inescapable lack of control. Strapped to that table, Dilandau could not move, or leave, or even protect himself. The Sorcerers could do anything they wanted to him, and he knew this, and it terrified him. He was beyond caring about anything other than getting away.

Can't move, wanna leave, oh god I wish I could get up and run out that door and they wouldn't be able to do this to me and scared, scared, scared, so scared, they're going to do that, it's going to hurt and I DON'T WANT TO BE HERE!!!! Let me GO, please, someone, anyone, let me go! Gatti, Chesta, Viole, Dallet, someone, ANYONE, PLEASE!!! HELP ME!!

His body convulsed in fear, his heart raced because his body could not. Dilandau, destroyer of cities and killer of innocents, unabashedly screamed his terror to anyone that would listen.

Ultimately, the human body has the last word on any matter that involves it. Pain and fear of pain can reduce anyone, no matter how strong, to something terrified and completely desperate.

So, yes, Dilandau screamed, and even wept as the Sorcerer approached with the needle. He screamed for help, forgetting in his abject terror that the only ones who would help him were dead.

There was no one.

He was alone.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------