Chapter 83

The Horned King realized after Avalina had left the room that he had repeated the exact same advice to her as his old master had once told him, centuries ago.

Everything he had told her was how he had became such a powerful warlord. And ironically such a monstrous being too, but there was no need to tell her that.

He had never second-guessed himself when conquering countries as a rule, because he knew the choice he chose would be the right one every time. He never doubted his decisions, and relied solely on himself for advice, neither trusting nor listening to anyone else. Not even the tiny voice in the back of his mind that whispered that everything he was doing and had done was so wrong. And in time, like everyone else, the little voice had been silenced, slaughtered by his larger hunger for power and bloodlust, preferring them far more than this pitiful thing humans called morality.

The Horned King knew no such thing. It got in the way of his plans and goals.

At the meal that night, Avalina told him what had happened, looking exhausted, but triumphant. He nodded in approval, pleased that she had broken through her doubt and succeeded in what she had finally summoned her self-confidence to do. She had grown in herself today, and the knowledge that he was responsible for it in a way was rather enjoyable.

Most of the tension that had built recently between them was gone, he noticed. Her fear was still there, although not as strong as it had been the last few days. She was almost back to the way she had been before that silly nightmare.

"Sire?" Avalina asked hesitantly, breaking him from his train of thought. Ordinarily being interrupted from thinking irritated him, but this time he was not.

He turned his attention back to her in a signal to go on.

Avalina paused for a moment, before asking somewhat hesitantly, "You sit with me every night, but why don't you eat? Aren't you hungry?"

This question had been a long time coming. In truth, the Horned King had expected it much sooner, but the recited answer he had dimly gone over in his head about telling her to mind her own business was gone, and he couldn't remember it.

"I cannot feel hunger like you do," he said, trying to figure out how to explain this and at the same time faintly wondering why he even bothered. "Although I require sustainment, there is no pleasure in consuming it. I only do it because I have to, and it is something that is not pleasant to observe."

Avalina looked confused, before saying suddenly, "You mean you can't taste?"

The Horned King gave a short nod, taking in her horrified expression.

"No need to look so stricken," he told her calmly. "It is normal for me."

"But. . .but that's awful!" Avalina said. "How is that even possible?"

"By human terms, it isn't," he told her carefully.

At this, she looked even more confused, but asked no more of the subject.

"It must be horrible," she finally said, "To see it right in front of you, and not be able to enjoy it."

"It does not bother me," he ground out, "It no longer holds appeal."

"Doesn't the smell get to you?" She asked, her eyes questioning.

"My ability to distinguish those things is gone as well, child."

"You can't smell either?"

The Horned King shook his head.

"No."

He didn't think he had ever seen someone look so shocked in his entire existence.

Avalina could find no words, or even thoughts, to acknowledge how horrible this was to her.

She could not imagine life without being able to taste and smell different things. She just couldn't. Without taste and smell. . .

"What kind of life can you have without those things?" She nearly whispered, watching him.

The Horned King looked down at the table.

"I do not have one," he finally said, so softly Avalina had to lean forward slightly to hear him, "There are many things required to truly live that I do not possess, and without them, I do not suppose I can truly be considered, "Alive." I am merely in a state of existence. Nothing more."

A faint sniffle brought his eyes back up from the table to focus on Avalina on the other end.

He saw a tear slip down her face, the firelight reflecting off it in a crystal way.

She was crying.

"Is something wrong?" He asked her.

"Have I offended you?"

"No," she said softly, shaking her head.

"I just feel sad. For you."

The Horned King felt his brow ridges go up in shock at this statement.

Never, in a thousand years, had he ever expected something like this to be said in his presence. Much less *to* him. This was. . .disturbing.

"Child, do not feel pity for me," he dredged out, "I am the last creature on this planet worthy of such an emotion."

"How can I not feel sad?" She asked him tearfully, "How can I not? It isn't right, you not being able to feel those things."

"I brought it on myself," he told her, wondering how they had gotten on such a conversation and wishing they had not.

"There is no need to cry. Why would you wish to shed tears for something as monstrous as me?"

"I don't know," she told him, "I can't help it. Don't you get sad thinking about it?"

"No," he told her, "I cannot feel such things."

"You. . .can't feel?"

"I'm not certain," he told her carefully, "I do not think so. If I can, they are merely twisted shadows of the actual emotions themselves. They are not the real thing."

"Why? How can you tell?"

"Because you need a heart to feel those things," he explained to her carefully, "And as you should know by now, I have no such item. And I do not require one to function."

Avalina looked like he had taken everything she knew and stood it on its head, completely overwhelmed by what he had just told her.

"Do not try to dwell on it, child," he told her, hating himself for making her look like that in the first place.

"It will only confuse you more."

Avalina looked like she wanted to ask questions, but couldn't find words to voice them.

After struggling with herself for some time, she finally managed to put a sentence together.

"So the rumors are true? Everything they said was true?"

The Horned King frowned.

"Everything that who said?"

"Prydain's armies," she answered, shivering slightly.

"They said you were heartless."

The Horned King suddenly felt as if a small stone was embedded in his chest. This was something he had not expected to come up.

"They were right. You should have known that already. Something with a heart could not possibly do all of the things I have done."

Avalina was silent for a long moment, fighting to keep her sobs down, and the Horned King stayed quiet, not wishing to sadden her anymore. There was nothing he could say to comfort her anyhow.

"Do you miss your heart?"

The Horned King stared at her in surprise as she continued.

"Do you ever wish you had it back?"

The Horned King sat back in his chair as he wondered how to answer this.

Avalina could ask the simplest questions in the strangest forms, it was almost unsettling.

"No," he finally told her. "It has been gone so long there is no retrieving it."

Deciding that he was only depressing her, he rose to leave.

"Is there a way for you to unload your. . .bad feelings?" Avalina asked him, a look on her face that begged him to say something positive.

He gave a soft sigh, knowing that he could not.

"No, child, there is not," he told her heavily.

"Because the undead cannot cry."

The candles on the table flickered as he began to leave.

"I wish there was something I could do!" Avalina called to him, her tears spilling over.

He stared back at her impassively as she cried, "I wish I could help you feel again."

Thinking of nothing to say, he simply lowered his head, before slowly leaving.

Avalina cried in her room for a long time afterward.

She could not believe it was even possible to be like that.

He could eat and drink but he couldn't taste. He could not smell. He could not cry. He could not sleep.

'What kind of life is that?' Avalina sobbed to herself.

'It's not a life at all. He said it was just a state of existence. But what kind of existence is that?'

He was neither dead nor alive, but a twisted mixture of the two and it was horrifying.

Now she knew why, in the rare instances his stone wall was lowered slightly, she could feel so much weight behind it. He was so weary and empty. . .

'He has nothing,' she realized. 'Absolutely nothing. All there is inside him is a black, hopeless void where his heart should be. I wish I could fill it, somehow. How does he exist at all?'

"I wish I could help you," she sobbed out loud, "I wish I knew what to do to make you happy. But I don't know how."

Staring out of the window into the pitch, silent night, she wept.

"I don't know."

In his chambers, the Horned King reluctantly went through the motions of eating. He detested the activity, but there was nothing else that could be done. Despite the fact that he was no longer quite alive, he needed some form of sustainment, and food was the only way in this area of the world to get it.

He couldn't get Avalina's broken face out of his mind. And he hated himself for giving it to her in the first place. He had told himself only a few days ago that he would scar her with himself if he allowed it, and he was trying to hope that he had not. He had been a fool to answer her questions. She was far too young to handle this.

And she had wished she could help him. She had said so herself. Why would anyone want to *help* him? It didn't make sense. All anyone ever wanted was for him to die. And that had happened not long ago.

He stopped for a moment, sensing something different.

His mouth felt funny.

He took a drink of the wine the Invisibles had given him, wondering what the problem was. the inside felt. . .prickly, like a numb area when the blood rushes back to it.

Shaking his head, he tried to clear it, but the wine only made it worse. Now his nasal passages felt strange.

What had those Invisibles given him this time? He fumed.

They were the most infuriating. . .no, he told himself, holding back his fury. To get angry would only be what they wanted. Keep calm.

With an effort he tried, but the prickling sensation in his mouth had gotten so bad he could no longer form words.

It worsened to the point he felt that he had inhaled fire. It burned the inside of his very skull.

Snarling, he sat in his throne as it got worse and worse, fighting the urge to claw at his mouth, a garbled roar finally escaping him before the flaming sensation began to slowly die down.

The door opened.

"You bellowed, Buddy-Boy?" They asked in an entirely too cheerful manner.

"What. . .did you do?" He snarled, gesturing to the food on the tray in front of him.

"We didn't do anything!" They exclaimed in protest.

"In fact, that's the only thing we've given you we *haven't* done something to in some way or another. Although now that you mention it, maybe we should have. . ."

"You did something!" He snarled, "And I demand to know what."

"We may be the most annoying things you've ever met, but we are not liars," the voices said, rather angrily.

The Horned King could not see them, but he could tell they spoke the truth.

Sitting back in his throne, he narrowed his eyes in thought, thinking silently to himself.

'Then if they did nothing, what was that?'

"Sire," one of them said suddenly, "Take a drink."

The wine glass was pushed in his direction.

The Horned King glared at them.

"You think I would fall for that?"

"Just do it!" One of them said cheerfully, "We have to know!"

"Know what, pray tell," he bit out.

"We can't say yet! Just do it!"

"I give the orders around here," he snarled, "Not you!"

"Oh for heaven's sake, just do it! We're not giving you orders, Horatio. Sheesh."

Irritably, he picked up the glass, feeling their excitement build.

"If you are lying. . ." He began.

"WE'RE NOT! PROMISE!"

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, he lifted the glass to his mouth, pausing a moment before tipping some inside.

The sensation that followed was something he had never felt before. It was. . .something he had no name for. But it felt. . .unreal.

"What is that?" He ordered them, staring at the air in front of him.

"Isn't it obvious, Hat-Rack?" They said happily, "You're tasting again!"

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