Imogen stared at herself in the mirror. The girl that looked back at her had changed many a time in her life. She had not spoken for the beginning of it, holding her own against a powerful man whose lust could lead to assault. She had been quietly bullied by the other servants and sat alone at mealtime. She had fallen in love with a rambunctious, reckless boy asked to play the part of a prince, and even though he had lied his whole life, he refused to when it really counted. She had watched amazed as that same boy proclaimed to the whole country who he truly was, the prince that he had told everyone he never could be. She had adopted her new role in life as a lady, attempting to hold her ground in front of the newly crowned king. She had lost her life to a broken heart with that same king and gotten back up to save him from his greatest attribute and worst flaw: his ability to never give up. She had ridden on the back of the prime regent's granddaughter to escape the uninventable fate of love and been shot with arrow to stop that same fate. She had avoided life to protect her country and fought to receive life for that same country.
She had been brought to watch her closest friend and dearest love be hanged and had been astonished again to see them rip from the ties that bound them and ascend to lead their country to its highest rung. She had given in to the fate of love and married her king, finally free to be herself. She had fought Prozarions, been declared dead, and traveled to devils lair for her love, and yet life was determined to keep them apart. She had done everything for her country, for her family, and for her king. And now this.
"Your Majesty?" An attendant spoke up from her place by the window. "Are you all right?"
Imogen sighed. "Genna, may I ask you a question?"
"Of course, my lady."
Imogen stared at her wedding ring. "Jaron is a good man, is he not? He is brave and loyal, reckless, but kind. Why then, to the devils torture him so?"
"I do not know, Your Majesty," Genna responded, her voice quivering. "People say the fates only watch over those who watch over them, and do good deeds, but His Majesty the King has done many good deeds. Perhaps King Jaron simply likes to entertain the fates, and it is not their fault at all."
The queen nodded sadly. "Perhaps so." She smiled the best she could at Genna and existed the room, as ready as she'd ever be. She walked down the hall in a haze, remembering a certain who had had the courage to talk to a mute servant girl. Imogen descended down the steps of the castle, her heart beating like a drum. Jaron stood by his horse, his party of soldiers with him.
"Imogen!" The king embraced her, kissing her neatly on the cheek. "You're late."
Imogen shrugged. "And you are never late, are you, my lord?"
"Never," Jaron chuckled. Then his face turned solemn. "You know I have to do this, my love. Duty calls."
Imogen pursed her lips. "Why can't it ever call me, and not you?"
"The devils, Imogen," Jaron answered. "They are out to get me. But they could never touch a saint like yourself."
Imogen rolled her eyes. Yeah right. "You will return soon?"
"Within a fortnight," The king said, pulling the final strap of his saddle into place. "And with luck, we will have made amends with Gelyn. No need to worry. Besides, Roden is with me, and there is nothing he can not battle. And Tobias will be there to heal me in case Roden messes up."
Imogen gracefully released her hand from Jaron's. "I'm trusting you, Jaron. You must come back safe. If not for your country, then for me. I will hold down the fort until then."
"Thank you," Jaron kissed her briefly before mounting his stead. "Goodbye, Imogen! Good luck!" And they were off, galloping out Drylliad, headed toward who knows where. It wasn't that Imogen was afraid of what Jaron would find in Gelyn, or what he would do there. She was simply afraid of the person who came back from Gelyn. The person who always made enough mistakes to come back as good as dead. The unknow of what would happen was what Imogen shaking her shoes. The unknown for how many times she had stood, fallen, and for the person who would come back, gotten back up again.