I stare blankly at the hearth. The bright flames sting my eyes until it is excruciating, and I must advert them. Still, Katherine's face will not leave my head. Moreover, Lyme joins her, along with Coin's brother.
They haunt me, tease me.
They are dead, because of me.
I startle at a touch on my shoulder. Looking up, I meet Finnick's tired eyes full of concern.
"You must rest," he pleads.
I give him no answer. I merely look at him, unable to think reasonably.
"Here, I'll help you."
Finnick stands me up. A cool burning ignites in my shoulder. I am too weak-minded to protest, and so I let him guide me to the bed. We are caught off guard by a frantic knocking on the door, which echoes around the quiet room.
Finnick leaves me by the bed, and quickly walks to the door. I register a figure falling into his arms, ragged breaths, and words.
I walk to them. Delilah looks up, eyes wide with astonishment.
"It's a miracle, Your Highness. A miracle," she repeats.
An odd feeling sinks into my heart.
"What miracle?"
"The princess."
I lay on the floor, flat on my stomach, as I am brought into a coughing fit. My throat burns, the air forcing itself to leave my mouth incessantly. I will my lungs to inhale and exhale, hoping it will ease the coughing.
Loud inhales, loud exhales. I crawl to the nearest table, unable to move my legs. They are dead weight at the moment. My arms pull me forward until there is enough distance for me to reach the leg of the table. I loop my hands around the leg, and pull my body to a sitting position. I am breathless and exhausted with trembling arms.
I glance up, still trying to regain my breath, to admire the high ceiling. I feel insignificant under it, an insect.
I suddenly hear steps. I sneak a look from under the table. A door is ajar, the objects and a tray are still scattered on the floor.
I wait for the source of the steps. Voices join them as they get closer.
They stop.
Curiosity gets the best of me, and I lean from behind the table to get a better look. If this is my purgatory, let them be quick.
A figure enters the room.
I recoil back, clinging to the leg in fear.
I listen to the figure's steps. They echo around the room as it wanders aimlessly. I sense them getting closer and closer to me. I dare to glance at the figure, revealing my whereabouts.
"Katherine," it calls, its tone of voice full of astonishment and disbelief.
I am seized in a man's intense stare. I watch him with narrowed eyes, trying to find him in my memory. I have seen his face before. Somewhere in my mind I know him. There is no denying the pull he ignites in me.
Slowly, but hesitantly, I lose my grip on the leg of the table, while the familiar stranger approaches me. I notice the tears in his eyes when he kneels down before me, shoulders hunched as he gives in to a strong emotion.
His hand hangs over my cheek. I stand frozen, while it glides down my arm to my hand. He places his over mine, and I am quickly reminded of the times I felt this touch. Our fingers entwine; I look up, my breath quickens in expectation.
The man engulfs me in a strong embrace. I grasp his shoulders for support, leaning against his body. The closer I stand to him, the more I remember his warmth, his smell, the security and comfort he provides.
"Peter."
He holds me tightly. He clings to me, face buried in my neck. The touch of his tears cools my skin. In the end I, too, am brought to tears.
An eerie silence hovers over the hall. Finnick's steps echo in my ears like a drum played excitedly. Pacing back and forth, he tries to retain some sanity after losing his composure the moment he set his eyes on Katherine.
"The physician," he finally speaks.
"No, absolutely not."
"He is... he is the only one who can make sense of..."
"She is alive, Finnick," I interject loudly.
"How are you certain of it?"
His fingers run desperately through his hair. There were a few moments when Finnick was deprived of his stability, but even then he had a sound mind. This is so much different.
"She is alive," I repeat, unable to find a reasonable answer.
"I am getting Master Bernard."
I stop him before he leaves.
"Tomorrow. Tomorrow we clear this situation."
"No."
"I will not leave her, Finnick," I warn. "Not in her condition."
"She isn't-"
"She is unstable!" I shout. "She has no one else."
Finnick studies me. The hand around his arm slowly eases it's hold. He exhales deeply.
"I will try to delay our departure."
"Thank you," I say, releasing his arm.
"Don't," he retorts, walking away without another word.
It is impossible not to feel guilty. Finnick wants nothing more than to return to Baluster, to his beloved. I must return for my father, but here is another part of my life. And, at the moment, that is my main preocupation.
I walk back to my room. Katherine sits by the window as Delilah takes watch. The latter turns suddenly at my closeness.
"Your Highness," Delilah exhales at the sight of me.
I glance at Katherine, her hands on the window pane. Bony, slender fingers caress the glass.
"You may go, Delilah," I say, looking back at the girl.
"May I assist you in anything else?" She moves away from Katherine with hesitation.
"All is good," I appease her, offering her a quick smile.
Delilah nods, and leaves.
Katherine is not startled by the door closing, not even my proximity. I sit beside her, and adjust the shawl around her. She finally looks up. Her expression is vacant.
"You look old," she comments, in a hoarse tone.
"How do you feel?"
She looks away, at outside. "Are we in Saldrian? I know that beach."
"Do you remember anything, Katherine?"
She stays quiet, hiding her face from me.
"My father..."
"From before."
Katherine turns, eyes full of sadness.
"Why are you here?"
I am confused by her question.
"I have been here for a while. Coin-"
She perks up at the name. Her hands fist the shawl as Katherine looks around the room.
"Coin is dead," I inform, assuring Katherine.
She does not believe my statement. "Coin was just crowned."
I grow confused with every word. Katherine's reactions, her thoughts. It is as if she does not remember what transpired in the months, in the years, before her death.
"What do you remember?" I ask, slowly placing a hand over hers.
She lets her hand slide off of mine.
"What kind of game are you playing, Peter?" Katherine becomes irritated. "I just buried my father."
"You buried him three years ago..."
"Today," she corrects, growing angry with me.
I am still caught in a fever dream. I have certainly lost my mind.
"What is wrong with you? What are you even doing here?"
I stare at her, hesitant to ask her what I am currently afraid of.
"What happened to us?"
Katherine parts her lips, ready to give me an answer, but immediately closes them. She looks away.
"You made it clear when the letters stopped coming."
Then it is true. She does not remember the last three years of her life. She does not remember the dangers, the murders, the months she spent with me. All erased from her memory.
"I am deeply sorry, Kat." I take her hand in mine. She is unresponsive to my touch.
"I want to be alone, Peter. Please." Her hand falls from my grasp.
I withold my words. I linger, waiting for another response; I get none.
I stand up with a sigh and walk reluctantly to the door. I close it without looking back.
Anger rushes through me. In a moment of instability, I punch the door, angry at myself, angry for choosing to risk my life, and in return risking and losing Katherine.
By the end, my knuckles are swollen and numb, the guilt still consuming me.
I study my fingers, turning them this and that way to admire their thinness. I have never seen them so bony. A very soft layer of skin covers the bone, revealing every knot and junction like cracks in a twig.
What happened to me?
A knock on the door brings me from my thoughts. I hold the shawl closer, the sense of dread coating my limbs. The door opens slowly, and I am relieved to see the young girl from last night. I ease my hold on the shawl, sitting properly in my seat.
"Morning, Your Highness," she says, walking into the room. In her hands is a tray with food.
I watch her actions, the way she moves about the room, her expression. There is no need to worry about her. She is harmless.
"I know you. Master Bernard's daughter?" I question, as she approaches me with the tray.
"Yes," she stammers, a soft smile lighting up her face. She sets the tray next to me. "I brought you some food."
"Thank you. Though, I am not hungry."
The smile falls slowly from her face.
"What's your name?"
"Delilah."
"Do you... are you aware of what happened?" I ask. "Is my stepmother...?"
Delilah stays quiet for a moment. She lowers her eyes, and surprisingly fixes the shawl around my shoulders. I flinch at the odd action.
"She is." Her hands smooth out the creases. "I am sorry, princess."
"How?"
Another knock on the door.
Delilah curtsies before walking to the door. She opens it, giving passage to Peter.
All I feel is sadness and betrayal at the sight of him. A spark of simpathy ignites in my chest as I take in his deteorated appearance. The dark shadows under his eyes stand out the most. Nonetheless, I cannot find empathy for him. I feel... pity.
He stands strangely by the door. Delilah is, too, confused by his behaviour.
"May we talk?" He finally speaks.
I glance at the window, feingning ignorance.
"Just a few moments, Delilah," he pleads.
I hear steps, the door closing, and then silence. Peter's own steps echo around the room like heavy rain. It amuses me how the world outside glows with the early morning light, but inside this room a solemn mood reigns.
"I have truly upsetted you."
"Betrayed," I murmur.
He quiets down. I fix my eyes on the sands down below.
"You must know I did not stop writing letters," he says, his presence felt too close. "I insisted every day. I could not let you fend for yourself. It was impossible not to try to reach you incessantly..."
My hands fist the shawl at the feel of Peter's hand on my shoulder. I grab the cloth tighter as he turns me to him. He kneels before me, a desperate man trying to clean his name.
"I am still your friend, Katherine," he pleads.
"I believe it is in our best interests if you leave, Peter. There is...," The words catch at my throat. "There is nothing you can do, at the moment, that will improve the situation."
"I am not leaving you here alone, Katherine."
He takes my hands in his. His burn my cold ones.
"This is my home, Peter. There is no need for your protection here," I say, hoping he will hurt as badly as I did. "I am safe."
"You are confused, Kat. If you listen to reason-"
"I don't want you here."
"You do not mean it."
"Go back to Baluster," I order, releasing my hands from his grasp. "That is an order."
Peter perks up at my comment. A teasing smile blooms in his lips, but not an humorous one.
"Already officiating your rule?"
"Leave Saldrian," I warn.
My sudden coldness does not seem to bother him. Have I ever acted as coldly as I do now?
It feels wrong to do so, but I do not want him close at the moment. The betrayal is too fresh in my memory.
Peter stays silent, nonetheless his exhales grow stronger by the second. He stands up, startling me. I back into the corner of the window, suddenly afraid of his next move.
"I know you think poorly of me at the moment," he says with a heavy sadness. "But I will await a change of heart in the future."
"Do not bother with such, Peter. Do not bother with any type of contact at all."
His hand fist his shirt as if I have impaled him right through the stomach.
Peter swallows with great effort. I have hit him where it hurts the most.
"As you wish."
He leaves, slamming the door behind him.
I glance back at the sands.
Three months after
The icy water numbs my feet. The small waves drench the hem of my dress. The cold runs up my legs, and I stop feeling them.
Like the void in my chest.
Where my heart should beat, now lays still.
I take a few steps back, waking up from my day-dreaming. I look around, and the dunes are deserted. I always thought Bluemoon's sands would be full of people, but I was quite surprised to find them empty upon my arrival. The habitants prefer the docs, from what I experienced these past two weeks.
I grab my satchel, dust the sand off, and walk back to civilitation.
It is a new air. There are blue skies even in a gray winter. The streets are open, the houses have a new light, and the people glow in their light-coloured clothes. It is a light atmosphere, despite it's difficulties. And I fit in.
I arrive at the inn I am lodged at.
I climb the stairs to my room, and quickly stop when I sight someone by my door. Lord Paylor.
He sees me, a sad smile slowing growing in his face. I am certain someone back in Saldrian advised him to check on me. Escaping home did nothing to omit my being from their thoughts.
"Lord Paylor," I acknowledge, approaching him.
"I see you are well, Your Highness," he comments. His eyes move to my feet. "In the best way possible."
"I am. Is that the reason for your presence?"
"In part."
We quiet down. I fidget with the strap of my satchel, thinking of nothing and everything that comes with Lord Paylor's sudden arrival. I open the door to my room, and hesitantly invite him in. He walks about the room, admiring my new sleeping quarters. Possibly taking mental notes for the council back in Saldrian.
"If you are in need of better living facilities, it can be arranged."
"I like it," I say, closing the door. He turns to me. The sad smile still present in his face.
"I am certain of it."
"Are you going to tell me-"
"I have something for you."
From inside his vest, he takes out a folded parchment. I grab it, suspicious of the message written in it. As I unfolded, my eyes land on particular words that get my heart racing. I hope my face does not betray me.
The parchment trembles. I realise my fingers are moving incessantly as the words register in my head, as it's message unfolds in my mind.
It is a cry for help.
"When did this...?"
"Last week."
In these past weeks, he has not crossed my mind. Everything about him was pushed to the back of my mind the moment I eliminated him from my life.
And now he returns with brute force.
"Commander Odair issued the letter the following day with great urgency," Lord Paylor says gravely. "His Majesty did not recover after..."
"What? After what?"
"You do not remember, Your Highness," he declares.
The past three years of my life. A void in my mind that contains the whole truth.
"Tell me, either way."
He sighs, his shoulders sagging a bit.
"Coin poisoned him."
I want to remember the moment, the emotions it carries, and how it affected him. But it is completely hopeless. I walk to the window and sit down on it's perch. Outside people go about their lives, unaware of each other's difficulties, caged in their own peace.
"Are you going to write, Your Highness?"
I stare down at the letter.
"I might..." My voice falters.
I feel Lord Paylor's hand on my shoulder. It rests there as I think about oblivion.
"It is a hard situation, but you should know about it," he assures, the hand falling from my shoulder. "I am going. In case you need my assistance, I am at Lord Heavensbee's house for a few more days."
I nod, unable to give him a proper answer.
The door opens and closes. The tears falls down my cheeks, the letter a mess in my hands from squeezing too much. I breathe in and out, trying to calm down. Looking around the room, I spot a box on my bed.
I sit down on the bed, and, to my surprise, incripted on the polished wood are the words Her Royal Majesty. Inside it are dozens of folded parchments. I take out some and read one after another. The tears come freely.
I am finally faced with my choices, and it's consequences.
My name.
Peter's name.
Peter.
Who I pushed away, because of betrayal, of incertanty.
I exhale deeply, my breath getting caught in my throat at the thought of what I did.
How can a letter amend my mistake? After three months of silence, I am too late to right my wrong...
I read all the letters again, choose one and write something on it's back.
As I am going downstairs, I wipe my tear-stained face, trying to pass as ordinary as usual. The lodger, Mrs. Serene, is startled by my sudden arrival, and looks confused at me as I give her the letter and the adress to deliever it at.
If I get no response in return, then it is time to move on.
Three weeks after
I blow some so warmth into my gloved hands, trying to revive my numb fingers. The morning is still cold, in spite of the warm sun. A cool breeze caresses my face; it reminds me of the clear sky days in Winter back home. The days felt longer, making them the perfect time to enjoy nature.
I adjust my satchel as I walk through the market. It is not that I do not feel secure. It just has turned into an habit.
I am almost at the inn, when I sight a horse outside it's entrance. A cold shiver crawls up my chest, clawing it's hands at my throat. I should not get worked up over something that is merely in my head. It might not be true.
Hesitantly, I walk inside. Looking around, I find nothing out of the ordinary, just the quick step in Mrs. Serene walk as she approaches me at the door.
"Someone is here to see you, dear," she declares, taking my arm in hers and guiding me to the common room.
It is nearly noon, yet the tables are occupied by a considerable number of people.
"There."
I follow her finger. Standing by the hearth is a young man in fine clothes. I barely recognize him, yet the shiver returns in full force.
"He came in search of you, dear, but I told him you were out," Mrs Serene says, but her voice becomes background noise as I watch him. "He looked worried. Something happened to him."
"I know him."
"Then you betta go, and ease his mind, dear."
Each step I take toward him weights on my legs. They are slow, and cautious, for I dread to look at him once more. My hands clutch the strap of my satchel as I stand a few steps away. He never turns around.
"Peter."
My breath stills for a moment.
He turns around. Staring at me are those damn blue eyes.
Memories resurface. I cannot recognize him in them. He is beyond recognition. Every detail of his face has changed, leaving nothing of the young boy I used to play with.
Before me is a man with too much on his shoulders, with a face that has lost it's youth.
"Katherine."
It is hard to process his presence, for I do not know what I am feeling. A small pain on my chest breaks the moment. I clutch my cloack, trying to keep the pain at bay. And along comes a headache, and I lose my grip.
Peter's hands are on my arms to keep me grounded.
"What is wrong?"
"Take me upstairs."
I fight both pains, but it slowly drains me of my strenght. My feet drag as Peter helps me to my room. When the door opens, I stumble inside and fall right there on the floor.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
I register the door closing too loudly, and then Peter talking. My hand goes to his mouth to shush him. His voice only makes the pain worse.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
I sneak a glance. His closeness takes me by surprise, his eyes solely focused on me, a look of great concern etched on them. It is an absurdity to behave like this.
"How bad does it hurt?" he asks.
"It is deeming..."
He sighs deeply, his shoulders sagging.
"Four months, and I cannot overcome it."
"What?"
Peter studies me.
"You still do not..."
"Remember?" I finish his question, trying to catch my breath.
Something upsets him, for he keeps a safe distance. I am left cold and embarassed.
"I was foolish to think-"
"I was told some details."
"Then the letter..." Peter quiets down. "You must... It was not chosen by chance, was it?"
I merely watch him. Was it?
"It made sense."
"In what way?"
He inches closer, the sentiment of hope growing inside him, while I debate over my answer.
"I had to right my own doing," I say.
Silence. Peter takes it in. He looks away, and walks to the window. I find the strenght and foot to stand up as well.
The headache throbbs lightly.
"Why now?"
"How so?"
"My father, Katherine," he exhales.
"It has nothing to do with him, Peter."
"I find it a great coincidence that your letter arrived a day after my father's burial."
"I did not send the letter, because of him. I did not know of his passing."
"Someone certainly informed you."
"Lord Paylor," I whisper.
Peter turns to me, eyes full of sadness and anger. Just like the last time I saw him.
"I am aware of Commander Odair's message to Lord Paylor."
"Perhaps Lord Paylor saw it fitting to share it with me, now that-"
"I have no one?"
"I did not contacted you out of pity, Peter," I declare, suddenly annoyed at his subtle accusations.
"Then what pushed you to it?" His tone of voice grows louder.
"The missing letters pushed me."
The look of doubt clouds his eyes.
I hesitate, an unconscious decision, yet I walk to chest of drawers, and from under a pile of clothes take out the wooden box. Peter is by my side the moment I turn to present the box. His eyes travel between the box and I.
I hand it to him. From inside, he picks a letter. Various emotions show across his face as he gets acquainted with his own hand-writing and my written thoughts.
"They were found in Coin's chambers," I state.
Peter goes through almost every letter, ending up on the bed, the box by his side, a letter in his hands.
He brings a hand up to his face. That is when I notice the tears streaming down his cheeks.
I approach him, and sit beside him.
I debate placing my hand on his arm, uncertain of where we stand in terms of intimacy. We are clearly not friends, but we are not strangers either.
I decide on not touching him.
"I thought I could handle this once more, but it still hurts when I think about it," Peter sighs.
I fidget with my skirt.
"I am deeply sorry for causing you pain."
"It was not your doing, Katherine," he says. "Save your apologies for other occasions."
"I must apologise. I was persuaded to believe you had betrayed me, which in turn had me breaking off our friendship."
He watches me, somewhat confused.
"I don't understand."
"The letters, Peter."
"I was not talking about the letters. I was refering to your..."
"Death?"
"Your memory loss." He drops the letter in his hand. "And yes, the consequences of your death. It hurts to think of it again..."
I huff, and stand up.
"I wish I could understand, Peter. I really wish, but the letters merely fixed some memories. Without evidences of these past three years I cannot relate to your pain."
"I am here, am I not?"
"How can you hold all the answers? We spent only a few months together..."
"You are right," Peter states, standing up as well. "I know most of them. Nonetheless, those are the memories at stake."
"And the rest? Are they to live as a large blank in my head?"
"I... I only know some, but they might not be true."
"Then tell me. You have no reason to withold secrets from me."
Peter studies me. He presents a few traits of his younger self as his eyes adquire a new light.
"Why are you here?"
"That is not related to the matter at hand, Peter," I scold him.
"It is of importance to me."
I hesitate. Not to show distress, I grab the letters and store them unevenly inside the box.
"Peace of mind." A short and simple answer.
Peter chuckles.
"Do I amuse you?"
"Merely memories."
"Do not hide them from me," I say, putting the box back in the drawer.
I glance at him. He eyes me, a small smile growing on his face.
"The feeling of being over-looked when you need refuge."
"How so?"
"You ran away, and did not contact me in any form. You have done it again."
I part my lips, and quickly close them. I breathe out deeply.
"It was..." I fidget with hem of my sleeve.
Peter stays silent.
"How they had to take..." I choke out the word, "my heart."
"That castle drove me mad. It suffocated me. I had to leave, before..."
His hand stops my fidgeting. It is all right to comfort each other.
"I should not have put an end to our friendship," I admit.
"You did."
"But it can start anew."
Peter exhales. His hand holds mine tighter, while a sickness takes over him. As though he misses something.
"I do not want to erase our past."
"Then tell me."
The hesitation persists. I grab his wrist as tightly as I can.
"I have a lot of time."
Peter's smile comes and goes as he weights on the decision to tell or not.
We end up on the floor, sitting against the bed. My eyes still shed tears, even though I had wiped them countless times.
Peter watches with exasperation.
"It was too much," he argues. "I should not have-"
"I had the right to know," I insist.
"I should not have told you like this."
I straighten.
"How is this any different? I now know everything. I know your pain."
"I see the hurt in your eyes, Katherine."
I wipe the tears once more.
"I should not be crying," I say, throwing in a smile. I fail greatly.
Peter scoots closer to me, and gently places an arm around my shoulders. He merely looks. How could I have been so foolish? In believing Alma's game, I lost the most genuine relation I had.
"I am deeply sorry."
"I told you to save your apologies."
"No. I must say it. I apologise for what I cost you," I declare.
There is an absolute silence afterwards. For a brief moment, Peter peers into my eyes, and I inch closer to him. My eyes close on accord, and I almost feel the touch of his mouth on mine...
A loud knock startles us.
"Katherine, dear, you a'right in there?"
"I am, Mrs Serene," I answer back, while I compose myself.
"Is the boy hurting you?"
"No." I look at Peter. He rubs his neck as his eyes wander across the ceiling.
"You need help, shout."
"I will."
Mrs. Serene's sudden appearance eases the mood. However, what just transpired between us still hovers about the room. Peter drops his arm, inviting the coolness into my body. I sit straighter, and push my hair behind my ears, while I debate the next topic of conversation.
"What did you cost me?"
I glance at him, midly surprised by his question.
"A normal life. Your father," I add hesitantly.
Peter releases a deep sigh, and then runs both hands over his face.
"My father had been ill for a while. What... Coin did to him pushed him past the breaking point," he says. "You are not the reason he suffered greatly, Katherine."
"Nonetheless, I was not there to aid him, and you."
"For a moment," Peter says with a humourless chuckle, "I hated you. Your sudden coldness made me realise I gave everything willingly, and was left with nothing. Your indifference to my pain birthed feelings of rage against you, and I was glad you were out of my life."
It stings to hear him say those words, now that my memories are aligned.
"I was truly irritated when your letter arrived," he says. "There you were once more, asking."
"But either way..." I breath out, "You came."
"I did." He smiles sadly. "You gave me hope for the first time in three months."
I think back to the letter I sent him, and everything I now know. In spite of what he means to me at the moment, there is something more weither I decide to accept it or not.
In the end, it comes down to the question: do I want to accept it?
"I am not certain of..."
"If it made sense choosing that letter, then you must have at least some certainity," he points out.
"You hope too much of me, Peter," I snap, standing up. "If it took that much time to come to terms with what you felt for me, it will take even more time now to accept how I feel for you. And so, do not push me."
"I am merely trying to find truth in your actions," Peter says. "I am quiet tired of falling for your lying."
"I am telling you how it is."
Peter huffs. He stands up, and grabs my elbow.
"Good. If we are to start anew, let's not begin with falsehoods."
"You said you did not want to forget the past."
"We are starting from scratch, keeping in mind the past," he remarks, dropping his hand to mine. He stares down, admiring our entwined hands, and then lets go. "The day should end here."
"Are you going back home?" I am suddenly disappointed he is not staying longer.
"Not yet," he assures. "I will be staying a few days at Lord Heavensbee's."
"Ah, yes... We have met before..." The new memory fills my head, and along with it come new feelings.
"I might request of him a dinner with you," Peter suggests.
"I might not accept it."
"We will see." He smiles.
Peter walks to the door, and turns the knob.
"Will we see each other tomorrow?"
"I know where to find you."
He leaves the room, closing the door behind him.
I release a deep sigh, leaning against the chest of drawers. My hands fist the handles as I think everything over. The pain of seeing him was reduced to longing, and the uncertainty grew with every new memory.
There is so much lying, fear, apprehension. Love.
In spite of it all, there is always some kind of love.
And once more I am afraid to face it.
It has been A WHILE since the last update. In spite of some personal changes, the chapter is finally written. Almost at the end of the story. Enjoy!