Shackles of Kinship

We can choose our friends; we can make friends; we can break friendships. But family is different. We are born with the kinship. We can't choose the family we are born into, we can't choose what kind of siblings we have; we can definitely not choose our parents.

But we can choose how we treat them. No matter how deeply they have wounded us, most still choose to forgive our kin even if they had wronged us. Because blood calls to blood.

It is neve too late to repent and salvage the love between family members.

Never too late.

She awoke the next morning feeling a little woozy. The sunlight was already streaming into the room through the window, and the early birds twittered cheerfully on the branch of the oak tree outside.

She freed herself from Joshua's embrace by lightly shifting his arms away from where they had spent the night around her waist.

He looked endearing when he slept, especially with the golden sunlight illuminated his face, giving him an appearance similar to that of Adonis. His long hair fanned out on the pillow, a cascade of crimson. His lips were slightly parted, and he wore a serene expression.

Careful not to wake him, she brushed back a stray lock of hair from his face, as he had done for her last night. With her fingertips, she lightly traced the contours of his face down to his jaw line.

It was times like this she loved the most, a calm quiet moment snatched from the midst of their chaotic and hectic lives filled with plots and treachery. If only she could wake up like this beside him everyday, there would be nothing else she would wish for in her remaining days as his wife.

How long do I have left with this man? She wondered. Queen Ismaire was already beginning to pass the important duties of governing the country to him, and he had already taken over as the head of the house of ministers, presiding over important meetings of national issues. In no time, he would ascend the throne, and she would revert back to being a plain girl on the streets, living with her gambling father in an empty dusty mansion. She grimaced at the prospects.

"You're stroking my face and frowning. I hope it's not because you disapprove of my appearance?"

She startled, withdrawing her hand instantly.

Joshua's eyes were wide open, and he was staring at her with vague amusement. "Good morning Marisa," he yawned. "It's nice to wake up in the morning to see my wife fondling me. If you're not done yet, I can always go back to sleep so that you can finish pawing my face." He turned and snuggled back under the blankets. "Come on, I'm waiting."

Laughing at his ridiculous statement, she smacked him on the head soundly with the pillow, causing a shower of white down.

"Hey!" Joshua bolted up, seizing his own pillow. "You asked for it!" He brought down he pillow against her head.

Giggling, she grabbed another pillow and smacked him on the head and on the chest at the same time.

"Hey! No fair!" He armed himself with two pillows as well and assaulted her. "Three points for the head. Two points for the torso. No points if you miss." He dodged a hit from her pillow. "Haha, loser!"

Pouting, she swung her pillow and aimed for his head. Feathers flew all over the room as they dodged and aimed, smacking each other with their pillows. She shrieked as he threw down both his pillows and grabbed her around the waist.

"I always find this more effective," he said with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Tickle attack!" Taking a feather that was lodged in his hair, he held her feet firmly and proceeded to tickle her soles with the feather.

If there was one thing that Marisa was truly scared of, it was tickling. She was absolutely fearful of people tickling her, which always rendered her incapable of doing anything except lie down and laugh.

She burst into a fit of giggles as the feather brushed her soles lightly. "Joshua! Stop! Stop!" She gasped in between bouts of laughter. "No! Ah!"

"That'll teach you to smack me with a pillow," he grinned, poking the feather at her toes.

She rolled on the bed, helpless with laughter. Clutching her sides, which felt as though they were going to split from laughing so much, she begged him for mercy. "Joshua, please…" she giggled. "Oh! Stop stop!"

"Will you ever smack me with a pillow again?" he asked.

"Never!" she exclaimed, gasping for breath as he continued his ministrations.

"Promise?" he questioned.

"Anything!"

The tickling stopped. She lay on the bed, surrounded by white downy feathers, panting hard. He fell back onto the bed beside her.

She stared at the ceiling, inhaling his musky scent, listening to his breathing. That was…fun…she mused. It had been a long time since she had laughed so much. Okay, fun's over. Time to be a princess again and return to mundane normal life.

She got up and walked over to her wardrobe. Choosing a cream robe with black patterns, she walked over to the bathroom. She meant to tell him to hurry up and change before they were late for breakfast, but all that came out was "Could we have a pillow fight again?"

He looked taken aback by her request. Even she was momentarily shocked at her own words. Fortunately, after he recovered, he shrugged, smiled and nodded casually.

Smiling, she closed the bathroom door. She was secretly glad she had asked that and she was happy that he had agreed.

"And so we can conclude, from the various points above, that Grado has full inclination to invade Jehanna's borders anytime," concluded Carlyle, the minister of warfare and defense. "As a result, I have full reason to believe that Jehanna is in danger of a full-scale invasion from Grado along the Western shared border."

"What are our defenses there?" Joshua frowned.

"We have thirty thousand foot soldiers stationed along the border, as well as a total of three thousand snipers. However, it is reported that Grado's army is five times our amount, and their main forces are wyvern lords and dark druids," Carlyle replied.

With quick computation, it was evident that defense would be very difficult, and retaliation would even harder. Grado was well-known for their wyvern lords, whose huge beasts served both as a mount and a deadly weapon to their riders. Their dark druids were rumoured to be so accurate that they could kill a moving target from a mile away. Given that Jehanna's army was mainly made up of swordmasters and sages, it was highly unlikely for Jehanna to be able to attain a victory in direct battle with Grado.

All the ministers lapsed into a melancholy silence, no doubt each and every one of them fearing for their lives should the worst occur.

"What strategy do you suggest Carlyle?" Queen Ismaire asked softly.

"We could attempt to ask for reinforcements from the other countries. Frelia's snipers and falconknights would prove to be assets in battle with Grado's wyvern lords, while Rausten has plenty of bishops who could assist our cause by destroying Grado's army of druids," Carlyle suggested.

"Not practical," Joshua rejected the idea. "King Innes shows little intention of going to war, and if the need truly arises they would rush to Renais' aid first. Rausten is unlikely to offer us aid, considering that they have only a small army who would be needed to defend their own interests first."

"The second solution I have here, is to break the seals and retrieve the Sacred Twins and the Sacred Stone," Carlyle proposed.

Collective gasps were heard around the room at the mention of the Sacred objects.

"Preposterous!" One minister shouted. "The Sacred Twins are never withdrawn except during dire emergencies or during coronations."

"And you do not think this is a dire situation?" Alexander thundered, silencing everyone. "Do we need to see our people dying like flies before we decided to withdraw the Sacred Twins?"

"As I was saying," Carlyle continued. "The Sacred Twins could be retrieved and their magic utilized on the battlefield to give Jehanna an edge. Since Grado would be fighting two fronts it would be likely that they would utilize one Sacred Twin on each front, giving us a numerical advantage."

Many of the ministers began nodding in agreement. The idea seemed good, since it did seem as though it gave Jehanna an edge.

"No," Queen Ismaire shook her head. "We cannot expose the Sacred Twins to such danger. If they are seized by the Grado troops Jehanna will fall within less than a day."

"We can protect them! Station troops around the Sacred Twins to make sure no one can steal them or rob them from our clutches!" Alexander said passionately. "We will assign the most patriotic soldiers to guard our national treasures!"

Queen Ismaire continued to shake her head. "The Sacred Twins and the Sacred Stone are proof of the legitimacy to rule. The Sacred Twins are deeply entwined with Jehannan history, and with the ascension of every ruler the Sacred Twins are passed on to the ruler. If they fall into the hands of Grado, the legitimacy to rule Jehanna has passed in power to Grado. It would be an unconditional surrender in itself."

"But my queen!" Alexander protested. "Do you not see that it is a dire situation, one that cannot afford us to take any chances?"

"I understand the urgency of the matter, Prime Minister," Queen Ismaire explained. "But I cannot permit the breaking of the seal. In addition, it is useless. Grado will send Gleipnir, their Sacred Twin over here, and it would best our Excalibur."

"There's always the chance that they would send…" Carlyle ventured.

"They will definitely send Garm to Renais," Queen Ismaire rebutted. "Prince Ephraim currently wields a powerful lance, and he is their most powerful fighter. It is almost certain that they will attempt to take him down to destroy army morale." She sighed as she rubbed her temple. "The Grado generals are, sadly, not fools."

"My Queen, are you very sure of not employing the power of the Sacred Twins?" Alexander persisted. "It would be best for the country…"

"Yes, I am very sure my answer is no," Queen Ismaire reaffirmed. "And my answer is final." She waved her hand. "Dismissed."

As the ministers filed out one by one, Marisa got up and prepared to leave as well. Meetings usually bored her with their technicality and lack of decisive action, but this one was on a pressing issue, and the issue was about warfare, something that she had interest in.

"Marisa, would you like to stay behind awhile?"

She turned around to see Queen Ismaire waving her hand and patting the seat next to her. Obediently, she sat on the indicated chair.

When the last servant had filed out and the door was firmly closed, leaving only the two of them in the room, Queen Ismaire turned to her. "A cup of tea for you?" The Queen indicated to the teapot on the table. Seeing that Marisa nodded, she poured two cups of tea.

"Now Marisa, you must be wondering why I am asking to speak to you," Queen Ismaire began, placing the steaming cup of tea before her. "I wanted to talk to you about your marriage with Joshua."

Uh-oh.

"I may be old, Marisa, but I am not a fool," Queen Ismaire smiled gently, adding a sugar cube into her tea. "From the first day you stepped into the palace as Joshua's wife, I could tell that you did not wholeheartedly agree to marry my son. Why else would you remain so cool and distant from him, if you married him for love?"

Marisa clenched and unclenched her fists underneath the table. Things don't seem to be turning out very well…

"I did my digging; I went to investigate, and I know about the oathpaper and the gamble," Queen Ismaire continued. "I obviously was not very pleased with Joshua when I knew the truth, but what is done has been done. I cannot order the two of you to separate without causing a scandal, but neither can I sit and not do anything."

Marisa nodded. Okay, I understand so far. She's still treading around the issue…what is it she wants to say?

"I know my son has many faults. Gambling is one of them; womanising is another one. I'm sure you noticed them too," Queen Ismaire paused. "Do you know why I made the two of you room together?"

Marisa shook her head.

Queen Ismaire sighed. "War is imminent, Marisa, everyone know that. If the time comes when Grado invades Jehanna, Joshua, as the prince of the country, will have to lead Jehanna into battle, Marisa. As a mother I fear for his safety; I feel like he's walking right into a tiger's den, waiting to be cut down. As a queen, I fear for the throne. If anything should happen to him, the Jehannan throne will be left without an heir, and that would only create chaos in the near future." She reached over and grasped Marisa's hands. "Marisa, I love you like my own daughter. Even if you don't love Joshua at all, please, consider it as my debt to you. A child will secure the hearts of the people, and it will soothe a mother's heart. So please, I'm begging you. The fate of Jehanna is in your hands."

Hesitantly, Marisa withdrew her hands from the Queen's grasp. The favour was large. It would mean that she would never be able to leave the palace, that she would henceforth by permanently attached to Joshua for the rest of her life. What about Saleh? What about her father? What about Gerik and Tethys and Ewan? All these people who had been waiting for her all these months, she could not just disappoint them and disappear into the palace for the rest of her life.

Especially Saleh. How would she ever be able to face Saleh ever again, if her fate was so thoroughly entwined with Joshua's?

No, she could not agree.

She shook her head, rising from her chair at the same time. "I apologise, Queen Mother…I…I need some time to consider…" Without any word, she bolted out of the room.

It was too much for her to handle. She had never been cut out for a princess and never would be.

She slammed open the door and collapsed onto the couch. Queen Ismaire's words were still burning in her mind, giving her a throbbing headache. My duty as a princess…My duty as a wife…my duty…my responsibility…why can't someone ever think about what I want, not what I am supposed to do?

Belle crept up to her. "Princess, do you want a cup of tea?"

She glanced at the maidservant and managed to give a strained smile. "No, no tea. I'm fine."

Belle nodded. "If your highness wants anything, please feel free to call Belle. Your highness' colouring is not good."

"Thank you Belle, for your concern," she said tiredly. "Attend to your other errands, I'll be fine in an hour or so."

She watched as the maidservant walked away with a bundle of dirty linen in her arms, humming a merry tune.

Even a servant in the palace was happier than she was, she thought morosely. Suddenly, she felt ancient, tired, like an old lady who had seen the times, experienced almost everything and accomplished nothing.

A sense of emptiness engulfed her as she closed her eyes wearily.

Maybe a good sleep could let her escape from her troubles for a few hours.

"Your highness! Your highness!"

Great…people are even starting to address me by me royal title in marshmallow land.

Your highness, please wake up!"

"Belle?" Her eyes snapped open. "Belle? What is it?"

The thin face with two swinging braids came into view. "Your highness, there is a young master waiting for you at the Hall of Innocence. He claims that it's an emergency and he insists on seeing your highness now."

"Oh is it?" She wondered who that could be. "Give me a minute. Tell him I will see him shortly."

Running a hand through her hair, she straightened her robes and walked briskly to the Hall of Innocence.

Could it be one of Rennac's jokes? Or was it Saleh?

The brown-haired man stood as she entered the room.

"Marisa, you must come with me," Saleh wasted no time in stating the purpose of his visit. "Your father is dying."

"My father?" She repeated numbly. "He's dying?" For the past twenty years of her life her father had always enjoyed the best of health.

Haha, was this one of Saleh's jokes.

Wait. Saleh doesn't joke. So what was this?

Was it...real?

The implications sent a shudder through her body.

"He was stabbed by a creditor for not being able to repay his gambling debts," Saleh explained hurriedly. "Ewan is taking care of him, Gerik and Tethys are away on a mission, so I have to come and fetch you. Hurry!"

She glanced back at the closed door. It was too late to go and ask Queen Ismaire for permission to leave the palace. Palace protocol would slow her down. "Saleh, meet me at the entrance. I'll leave by another way."

Nodding, Saleh dashed out of the door.

She opened the window and glanced around cautiously. Certain that the coast was clear, she climbed through the window deftly and crossed the garden. Somersaulting, she landed on the other side of the wall, fallen leaves cushioning the impact of her landing. She sprinted to where Saleh was waiting anxiously under a tree near the main gate.

"How did it happen?" she asked as she ran after him.

"The thugs followed him to a secluded field, then they attacked him in a group," Saleh explained, panting. "Your father couldn't fight all of them off, and he took a deep wound in his abdomen. Ewan and I passed by just in time to chase away the thugs, but not early enough to prevent it from happening altogether. He asked for you while we were trying to heal him."

"Is it fatal?" she asked bluntly.

Saleh hesitated. "We tried our best, but the wound seems to be too deep, and he had already lost a lot of blood. Ewan is healing him as fast as possible, but we fear the worst."

She nodded. She always knew that someday her father's gambling habit would lead him into disaster, and this seemed to be the day.

They arrived at an open field, where she spied a small flame-haired boy crouching in the middle.

"Ewan!" Saleh shouted, announcing their imminent arrival.

"Marisa!" Ewan waved, yelling back. "Master Saleh! Hurry!"

She skidded to a stop beside Ewan, looking at the crumpled human form lying on the grass in horror. When she had imagined the trouble her father's gambling habits would bring him, she had not expected this.

Her father's face was bruised purple from where he had been hit by bare fists, and he suffered cuts and multiple open wounds all over his body. Blood still poured out of the dark bloody hole in his abdomen.

Ewan waved his healing staff. "Come on…" he mumbled, eyebrows knitting together in concentration.

A blue light glowed around the wound on her father's abdomen, and the bleeding seemed to cease momentarily.

"Marisa?" Her father groaned, clutching his abdomen. He blinked several times and stared at her. "Marisa…"

"Father," she bowed her head, looking at her father's grievous injury. Saleh was right. Her father didn't have much time left. "You were looking for me, father?"

"Marisa," he reached out and grasped her hand shakily. "I'm…I'm…sorry…"

She stared at him without blinking. One simple apology from her usually stern and haughty father was enough to rob away all the resentment and anger she had once felt towards him. "Father…it's not your fault," she swallowed, suppressing the misery and fear that was welling up in her heart. "It's fated…"

"My dear child…" Her father closed his eyes briefly. "You've never called me…papa…ever since…your mother died…"

Papa.

The word had been lying dormant in her mind ever since her mother's passing. With its resurfacing, other memories were triggered in a series, like a chain of dominoes. She recalled her father holding her up in the air and her mother laughing, their family having a picnic underneath the cherry tree by the river, her mother baking a cherry pie for dinner…

Too much emotions, too much of the past was dug up in one moment. The tears spilled involuntarily from her eyes.

"Do you want me to?" she asked, tearing.

"Yes…please…" her father pleaded weakly.

"Papa…" Her voice was reduced to a hollow whisper. She was again a little girl, still wobbly when she walked from her father's embrace to her mother's lap. "Papa…"

Her father smiled peacefully. "Child…I have so much…to say…too little time…your mother…you resemble her…"

The image of a woman with long straight magenta hair and a warm smile resurfaced in her mind. Her hands were calloused from housework, but they had always smelt of cherries, pastries and dinner. Her embrace was always warm, always welcoming. The words fell from her lips gently, having a soothing effect on her whenever she was feeling upset.

"Marisa…darling child…I…" her father coughed. Several drops of blood landed on her hand. "I…"

"He's fading…" Ewan said in horror. "Sir! Sir! Can you hear me? The heal staff isn't working anymore."

"Let it be, Ewan," she instructed, tears falling thickly from her eyes. There was only one thing they could do for her father now, and that was to let him go peacefully.

Her father sighed, a hollow sound. Bubbles of blood emerged at the corners of his mouth. His pupils dilated till the purple faded into a pale pink. His hands cooled. "Elena…"

Elena. Mother.

His face relaxed, the muscles sagging. A ghost of a smile remained on his lips as his hands slipped from her grip and lay limp on the grass. His eyes closed for the last time.

"Papa?" She whispered, refusing to accept the truth. "Papa? Papa! Wake up! Papa…" Those words that had never once left her lips in the past fifteen years seemed to pour from her mouth as she called for her father. "Papa…" It was hopeless; it was inevitable. Her last blood kin had died, leaving her alone in the world all by herself.

There would be no more father for her, no one left to ask her for money when she returned home one day, no one to criticize her swordplay, no one to admonish her over her mistakes…she was truly alone.

"Marisa?" Saleh placed a hand on her shoulder in concern. Gently, he took his white handkerchief and helped her wipe away her tears. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she stifled a sob, swallowing. "Everyone dies, sooner or later."

"You'll still have me around…" He placed his arms around her and patted her back comfortingly. His face was constricted with grief as he comforted her slowly.

"How do we bury him?" Ewan asked, shifting nervously.

"Ewan!" Saleh chided. "That's so insensitive!"

"No, it's alright…it has to be done…" She stood up drying her tears. "He would want to be cremated, and have his ashes blown away by the wind. That was the way he saw Mother off."

"Do you want to have a little more time?" Saleh asked gently. "We have time."

She glanced at the cold motionless body of her father. He would never wake up again from that body. He was gone, leaving behind an empty shell in the world. No He had gone on to somewhere better. With Mother.

"I don't need the time," she said, trying to stop sniffing. "Saleh, do you have an Elfire tome?"

He drew out the book from one of the deep pockets of his cloak. "Now? He asked hesitantly.

She nodded.

Mumbling an incantation, he flipped open the thick tome and conjured a fireball in his hands. Drawing a triangle of magic in the air, he cast the fireball towards her father's body.

A wall of brilliant red flames rose from the ground. The tongues of flames licked her father's body, slowly consuming the body, clothes and all, leaving a pile of white ash.

It feels like…watching a part of me die…She withheld the tears that were threatening to flow. No, Father would hate to see me in this state. He would want me to be strong after his death.

They watched silently as the funeral pyre finally died down, leaving nothing but ash and dust in its wake. A strong gust of wind blew past and carried the ashes away in the direction of the distant mountains.

"Do you need…my company Marisa?" Saleh offered.

She stepped away from his proffered hand. "It's alright Saleh. I'm fine. I just…need some time to recover…"

Father…

Blindly, she bolted away, heedless of Saleh's frantic calls.

Father…Mother…

The tears streamed down her face as she tore through the trees, not caring where she was going.

I'm sorry…

In the distance, the sound of thunder rolled.

Author's Note:

This chapter is sadly, not very well-done in my opinion. It seems more like a plot chapter instead of a emotion chapter, and I am definitely better at the latter. Sorry for the descriptions at the last part. Truth to be told, I've never been faced with death in my life, so I haven't experienced first-hand the sensation, so it wasn't very well-done. Of course, I do not hope to experience it anytime soon. I think I'll be happy writing crappy death scenes for the rest of my life. Yay.

Haha, but the politics will be coming around pretty soon. You can see the stuff already building up. There will be intrigue, I promise, and there will be scheming and evil people plotting and confusing relationships with heirs, national security, betrayal, judgement, faith, illness, plots all thrown together into a crescendo.

By the way, this chapter's ending is supposed to be a cliffhanger. What a failure of a cliffhanger. -.-

Cheerios, (I'll do better the next chapter)

snowylavendermist (Friday, 9.30 am, in a gloomy mood because this chapter is not one of her best )