Shackles of Disorientation

Confusion...disorientation...dizziness...those are all the first forms of awareness after a period of black out. The mind stopped functioning just enough for the non-essential bodily functions to halt, leaving perhaps only the heartbeat and the slow exchange of gases.

As such, when awakened, one usually feels very ill and very bewildered. There is a hollow feeling in the heart, and there seems to be a hole that cannot be plugged somewhere in the depth of one's mind. One is weak, but one is not rendered a fool. Memories will slowly come back, bit by bit, to bring forth the greatest agony yet, even greater than the shock of receiving the fateful news in the first place.

Her first awareness was the smell and acrid taste of iron, followed by the bitter taste of dryness and salt, lingering pervasively on her tongue.

Slowly, as though afraid of hurting herself, she opened her eyes by a crack.

She was staring at a ceiling of a room. She recognized the mosaic pattern of her room.

Am I…dead? She wondered vaguely. Oh. If she recognized her room then she could hardly be dead. So she was still alive. Great.

"Princess Marisa!" Belle's head appeared in her range of vision. Hmm…her features are blurred…or is it me? "Your highness! You're awake!"

Belle, the poor girl, must have been frightened out of her wits by her sudden collapse. Beads of cold sweat were rolling off Belle's forehead, and her face was pasty white from fear, shock and alarm.

She attempted to prop herself up from where she lay on the carpet. "Oww…" she moaned, massaging her head and letting herself flop down onto the carpet. Her head must have hit the floor with some force, for it now felt as though there was a sledgehammer crushing her skull into pieces from the inside.

"How long was I out?" She asked, rubbing the back of her head where it hurt the most.

Belle swallowed fearfully. "Fi-five minutes…"

Cursing softly, she rose to her feet, stopping to catch her breath.

"Your highness!" Belle exclaimed in alarm. "You can't be thinking of walking around in your condition."

The poor girl seems more nervous of my condition than I…she pondered in dark amusement. Her gaze fell on the letter that had fallen on the floor.

Very slowly, she bent down and carefully picked up the piece of parchment. She perused the letter again, without emotion or expression, and replaced it silently in the box. Deftly, she closed the box and placed it beside the book on the coffee table, exactly where she had found it.

Gently, she closed her eyes.

I…can't run away anymore…the truth is before my eyes…why? Why do I love him? Why must it be him?

She nodded to no one in particular, eyes still closed tightly.

But of course, I was the fool who fell for him. Fool indeed. Rennac warned me; Saleh cautioned me; the clerics indirectly told me not to fall for him…but I…after all this time, after all these warnings from all those clear-headed individuals around me…I still made the mistake

I still fell in love with him…

Lifting her hand, she wiped away the tearstain on her cheek, the singular track of the cold tear she had shed as she collapsed.

Why…why must love be so painful?

Why can't it have been Saleh?

Why must it be someone who doesn't love me back?

Why must it be unrequited?

Why must it be Joshua?

"I am a fool…" she mumbled.

"Princess?" Belle asked worriedly.

Oh right, she smiled humourlessly. Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness. She must think I'm going mad. Or am I already mad? "Belle, I'm fine. Run along to your other duties. I think I need some fresh air."

Belle was reluctant, but nodded all the same. "Your highness, what about this?" She gestured to the box.

She cast a despairing glance at the box. It was the testimony of Joshua and Natasha's long-lasting love, it was the evidence of his infidelity and it probably contained the birth certificate of their son Henry. What to do with the box…that was a good question indeed…

Personally, she would have wanted to rip the box apart, tear up all the letters and burn all the parchment to ashes. Then, she could wholeheartedly pretend that Joshua still loved her, that her love was not unrequited, that Joshua and Natasha had not anything improper between them.

But the truth always was, in reality, she could fool herself. She could delude her mind, her heart and her soul. But reality would never be deluded by anyone or anything. What had happened was history, and what was happening was the present. There was nothing, nothing that she could attempt to erase the love Joshua harboured for Natasha, or try to shift Joshua's affections to herself instead.

She could not compare. There was basis for comparison, but it was like comparing rough cotton with finely spun silk dyed in the colours of sunset. Natasha was regal, graceful, dignified and a born princess. She possessed the charm and all the necessary qualities to be a queen that Jehanna could be proud of.

And she? A piece of rough cotton by nature and by birth, she was merely a lowly street urchin who had once scraped a living by petty theft and pilfering. She was clumsy, rough, brash and not deserving of a place in the royal family.

A bitter snigger twisted her features and her heart. Of course she had been a good instrument for Joshua's path to success. Her father had been an unfortunate gambler with a mountain of debts, and she herself was a foolish unwise young urchin off the streets who would have made a pretty wife. Pretty, and temporary.

How did she ever dream that one day, Joshua might truly accept her as his queen? It was impossible, irrational and illusory. Why had she ever harboured those hopes in the first place? For them to be brutally crushed in the end? Just like how her heart had been brutally crushed into pieces?

Oh yes, her heart did feel as though it was bleeding. The letter…the baby Henry…everything he had ever done seemed to pierce her heart further, create more gaping holes in her already lacerated heart.

And Saleh would come, with a healing salve in his hand, kind words on his lips. She should have been grateful for his care, but did he know he always carried the wrong healing salve. It never did heal her, because he was not the one.

And no matter what they did, that fact would never change.

She was destined to love Joshua.

She was destined to not love Saleh.

Was she destined to lose them both?

She recalled the scene of Gerik and Tethys, and closed her eyes as a wince escaped her lips. Her heart throbbed. Her fists clenched tightly, she leant against the banister on the corridor, not caring about the dustiness of the corner.

She would give anything, anything, to escape from the pain.

Gritting her teeth, she willed herself not to think about her troubles and just walk on.

Walk, Marisa, walk. May it balm your nerves.

The guards saluted alertly as she approached, but even in her state of debilitated health she could smell the nervousness pouring off them in waves. One of them had a bright sheen of sweat on his forehead, although it was approaching the end of autumn and weather was turning colder than ever.

"Your highness!" They leapt to attention, a little stiffer than normal. The one who was sweating profusely inched closer to the entrance of the dungeon. His comrades followed his example and blocked the door to the dungeon.

Eyes narrowed, she took a step forward, towards the dungeon entrance.

The guards swallowed nervously. One of them even shivered. However, they stood as impassively as ever at the door, forming a solid impervious wall, a human barrier preventing her from entering the dungeon.

"Move aside," she ordered. There was something fishy about the guards' behaviour, and she was going to find exactly was it that triggered this behaviour.

The guards looked at one another nervously, then shook their heads together as a group.

"You're going to defy my orders?" She raised an eyebrow. Now, what did the manual say about the royal hierarchy again? Something about the ability to execute a minor for defying orders of the queen, prince or any member of the royal family…hmm…isn't that me? Might as well…

She openly unsheathed her shamshir. "Well?" She tapped her feet impatiently. "Move aside!"

Most of the guards scampered to the sides, but one still stood stoically at the entrance. A bright sheen of sweat coated his forehead, and he trembled slightly as she lifted her shamshir.

She held the blade to the throat of one of those who had scampered to the side. "Why did you block the door just now?" she asked soft but menacing enough for the guard to hear the threat in her words.

The guard slipped from her grip and landed on the ground on his shaking knees, prostrating himself flat on the ground. "Your highness." The poor man was trembling all over.

Coward.

"Prime Minister Alexander told us to prevent you from entering," he stuttered, still flat on the ground. "Please, your highness, he'll chop off our hands if you entered."

"All the more I'm going to enter," she sheathed her shamshir and looked at them indifferently. "The Prime Minister has no power to handicap his guards. I will ensure your safety for divulging this piece of information. If you would stand aside, I could even arrange for a promotion."

The guards were trembling all over and they lay themselves at her feet. "Thank you, your highness."

She disliked people dropping to the ground like cabbages every time she bestowed something upon them. It made her feel too royal, and she was never royalty, and would never be part of royalty.

She disliked spineless people even more, detested them in fact. These were the ones who would turn traitor at the first sign of danger, running away with their tail between their legs in a bid to escape to safety.

Coward.

The lone guard still stood barring the entrance.

"I'm the Prime Minister's man through and through," he announced proudly. "I obey the Prime Minister and no one else."

Admirable courage and loyalty. Too bad it's in the wrong place and the wrong person.

"Is there any way to switch your allegiance?" she questioned, fingering her shamshir.

The guard's eyes flicked nervously to her shamshir, which was flitting in her hands, then back to her. "No," he replied steadily, although there was a slight tremour in his voice. "The Prime Minister is my sole master."

The other guards, who had cleared the way, shook their heads at their comrade's foolishness and blindness. Everyone knew that befriending the princess was better than accompanying the Prime Minister! This man must have been mad to refuse the princess' offer!

She nodded. "Very well."

Quick as lightning, she reached out and twisted his arms behind him. Stretching out her leg, she swept him off his two feet and watched as he landed on his knees before her, arms still pinned behind him.

A man of courage, bravery and resilience deserved to live, and prosper.

"You are promoted," she whispered. "To the rank of captain. The deployment administrators will be informed, and you will be told of your new post." She straightened, leaving the guard on the floor, who wore a confounded and shocked expression. "Your courage is impressive, so is your loyalty. But your reflexes and fighting skills are abominable. So is your choice of allegiance."

Decisively, she stepped over the threshold and entered the dungeon.

The first thing she felt was the cold air hitting her face at full force. Then she was aware of the dim lighting coming from the end of the dungeon. When her senses sharpened, she could hear the crack of a whip.

Sir Alexander…she snarled. The man's presence tinged the air with a dreadful and repugnant oiliness and resentment.

"Come on." She could discern the oily voice, goading. "Tell us something more about yourself. Maybe, tell us how much you used to make selling information of Jehanna?"

There was another crack of the whip.

She could see Stefan, black robes torn, exposed flesh bloody and cut with numerous lashes across his back from the heavy leather horsewhip that was currently in the Prime Minister's pudgy hands.

"Sir Alexander, whatever the hell are you doing?" she said coldly.

The large man turned around, green locks bouncing. He still clutched the offending horsewhip, which was dripping with blood. There were bloodstains on his waistcoat, and his hands were covered in blood. His expression was one of horror, disgust, annoyance and loathing.

With barely concealed irritation, he made a quick bow. "Princess Marisa, why the hell may I ask are you doing here?" he asked curtly, mocking her words.

She coloured. "I heard some…suspicious noises from the outside and entered to investigate, is that not allowed, Sir Alexander?"

Stefan, hearing her voice, lifted his head wearily. His shaggy brown hair was coated with dirt, and straw stood up between strands of his hair. Even his face was covered with an unpleasant array of bruises. He opened his chapped lips, as though wanting to call for her help, but clamped his mouth tightly again and looked down.

"Of course it is, Princess," Sir Alexander laughed. "There is not a single place that the princess is not allow to enter in the palace. But the dungeons are filthy, and unbefitting of your highness' status. May I suggest your highness go and enjoy a lovely cup of tea with buttered scones in the garden? I heard the chef mentioning that those were today's desserts."

"I don't suppose I could indulge in my scones knowing that beneath my feet someone is being brutally murdered with a horsewhip, can I?" She replied in a tone that paralleled his. "After all, the sounds are certainly unpleasant. Why not we leave this aside and enjoy tea together, Prime Minister?"

"I would love to, your highness, to dine with an exquisite lady as yourself," Sir Alexander bantered. "However, this particular beast needs to be taught a lesson for harming your highness, and for not replying when asked, right brute?"

Stefan made no sound, merely breathed heavily, most likely preparing himself for the whipping later on.

As though to taunt him, Sir Alexander raised the whip again, preparing to bring it down on Stefan's back.

The whip crackled through the air with deadly speed.

There was a sound of leather breaking.

"I see no brute in this dungeon except you, minister." She held on to the broken leather strap of the whip in one hand, her shamshir in the other. "I advise you to stop this activity for the sake of your own office."

"You would threaten me?" Sir Alexander gritted his teeth. "Are you not afraid of what I can do to your reputation? I'll tear it asunder, trample it beneath my feet, feed it to my fireplace, drag it through the dirt, make it so soiled and ravaged that no amount of titles and authority can save you from being known as a scarlet woman." He spat the last word in her face.

Without hesitation, she cracked the whip across his face.

Sir Alexander touched the cut on his cheek in wide-eyed and furious disbelief. He stared at the blood on his fingers, then at the fresh blood on the leather of the broken horsewhip. "You dare?" he seethed. "You dare?"

"I dare." She sneered.

Slowly, he backed away, still nursing his wound. "I'll make you pay for this. I'll make you pay for this so many times over that you'll wish you had never been born!"

Spitting on the ground, he threw her a murderous look before storming out of the dungeon.

That's it, she told herself in resignation. You're doomed.

"Stefan." She cut the ropes that tied up his hands and feet. "Did he hurt you badly?"

That was a redundant question, you fool. Obviously that Alexander did not believe in mercy. Look at the sheer number and wounds!

Breathing heavily, Stefan lifted his head. "Thank you," he croaked, closing his eyes tightly as a spasm of pain tore through him. "You risked a lot to save me."

She shrugged. "Consider yourself lucky that I am an anomaly amongst nobles." I can't believe I'm freaking doing this. I just traded my reputation for the life of a political criminal who tried to kill me. What the heck. I must still be ill. Or did that knock on the head just now knock out a few brain cells?

"He's dangerous."

She rolled her eyes as she helped him back to the cell. "Like I don't know."

He smirked wearily. "Just in case."

Rolling her eyes again, she called for the guard, recently promoted to captain. He was still pale and in a state of shock when he walked jerkily over. "I want bandages and surgical spirit. And a new set of clothing."

"Water…" Stefan moaned.

"And water," she added.

The guard nodded and walked away briskly, like a programmed robot.

Is it really that surprising that I promoted him for being loyal? She sighed. People…

"He's going to take revenge," Stefan said.

Sir Alexander? Yeah, probably. "Worry about yourself first," she retorted.

"That man was being serious."

"I know," she frowned, turning away from him. Urgh, can he stop reminding of the price I have to pay for saving him? Does he really want me to leave him alone or invite Sir Alexander over to continue the torture session? "I don't think he will come back and bother you again though." She took the items she wanted from the guard, who had returned. "Thank you."

The guard nodded stiffly and walked off again.

"Stay still," she commanded, treating his wounds. Why the heck am I doing this? This is that guy who tried to kill me that day. Oh right, you want him to give you information. Make an ally. Right.

"That man is going to betray you," Stefan blurted.

"What?" She spun around to face him. "What did you say?"

He shrugged infuriatingly. "Sir Alexander."

She narrowed her eyes. Stefan was a spy from Grado. Was he telling the truth or a lie? Did he want to thank her or make use of her kindness? He mentioned Sir Alexander would betray them. 'Them' would refer to the royal family of Jehanna? Sir Alexander worked for Grado? How did Stefan know?

"How do you know?" she questioned.

He shrugged again. "I didn't say anything." He drank thirstily. "You heard nothing. Nothing. Am I clear?"

All of a sudden, they were enemies once more. He, a spy for Grado. She, the princess of Jehanna. Each had their interests, their loyalties, their priorities. Her magenta eyes bored into his brown ones, hunting for a flicker that might betray his intentions.

Nothing.

A mouse squeaked.

Both of them flinched at the noise. The connection was broken. They were acquaintances once more, a lady helping a wounded man in need.

"You lied to Sir Alexander," she said simply. Come on, take the bait. Say something.

He shrugged nonchalantly again. "Really?" Such a simple answer, but it carried so many questions, opened the pandora's box of possibilities. His grin was wide and toothy, but beneath the surface, she could detect the faint trace of suspicion, sharpness, worry, anxiety and reluctance.

She sighed.

Something was brewing in the Jehannan palace, and she certainly did not like the way things were turning out.

The mirror was starting to cloud over due to the steam rising from the hot water.

Satisfied that the water was of a comfortable temperature after testing it with her finger first, she slid gently into the bathwater.

A good bath would wash away some of her worries and nagging anxieties. A good sleep in the bath would probably do her nerves some good too. It had been an exhausting day, with so much happening that she could hardly keep track of her emotions.

Her heart sank again as she recalled Henry, and the letter.

You never were meant to be a princess, Marisa. You can't handle the pressure or the scandals. Maybe Joshua was right, Natasha should have been in this position. She'll probably never get embroiled in all these affairs and businesses with prime ministers and assassins.

Life was a joke.

I love Joshua…

A bitter laugh escaped her lips.

I love him…

She closed her eyes as a heart-wrenching pain sent a shudder through her body, despite being surrounded by fragrant warm bathwater.

Why…

Ever so slowly, a tear slid down her cheek.

Why must it be someone who doesn't love me…?

Another spasm of pain tore through her.

Why is love always unrequited? It's…not fair…

"Time for self-medication," she muttered. She desperately needed a good sleep for her troubles and a few headache pills for her migraine. Had she hit her head that heavily this afternoon?

She groaned as she slid over to the side of the bathtub and examined the array of little bottles, all containing little pills of different colours. The sleeping pills are light pink in colour…I think three will do the trick and get me a few hours of sleep until dinner…she picked the light bottle off the shelf. And the migraine pills…what did Belle say the other time? Oh, right, the little white pills with the black label. She retrieved the bottle from the rack.

Unscrewing the cap, she popped five little pink pills into her mouth, followed by two of the white pills. She made a face as she swallowed, resenting the bitter powdery taste they left in her mouth.

Sighing in contentment, she closed her eyes and relaxed in the water.

Things will be better…hopefully…

Forget everything about that Joshua, in a few months' time you'll leave him, is that understood?

Do I have enough courage and strength to leave his side?

My heart…hurts…

I must work up the courage to leave his side…

Why…does my heart hurt…so much…?

Her eyes snapped open. Gasping, she placed a hand over her heart.

The pain was not a result of heartbreak.

She could feel the jolt of pain in her ribs every time her heart beat. And the pain was progressively growing more acute.

What…what is happening to me?

"Was it…the pills?" She muttered. Her tongue seemed to have been turned into stone, and she had difficulty enunciating even the simplest words.

She rolled onto her side and inched towards the rack of pills.

The pink pills…and the white…

Her vision swarmed before her. The world appeared to be swiftly tilting, or was it her?

Shaking her head to try and clear her vision, she made a grab for the bottles. Her breaths had turned into desperate gasps, and every gasp was like having a knife slashing her lungs.

She clenched her fists and shut her eyes tightly. Every second brought a wave of intense pain, so acute that it was nearly indescribable by human words.

Is there any word that described extremely extreme acute pain?

Her world started spinning rapidly again.

Shakily, she held the bottles in her hands and brought them before her eyes, hoping that the proximity would allow her to read the labels.

Is it not my sleeping pills and headache pills? Did I…make a mistake?

Her heart rate was speeding up. Her heart pumped abnormally, working harder than usual. The blood squeezed through her blood vessels consistently, traveling at astonishing speeds that they had never attained.

She was sitting in a bath relaxing, and her heart was clocking heart rates faster than those when she was sparring.

How is this…even possible?

The words were blurring before her eyes. Frowning, she took a deep breath and shook her head, ignoring the piercing pain in her lungs.

"Digi-" She narrowed her eyes, attempting to read the small print. "Digitalis." What the heck was that? Her sleeping pills usually said 'sleeping pills' and that was all, not some obscure term that probably could only be found in an abstruse medicinal book that only Saleh would read.

She examined the other label. "Sele-"

She gasped before she could finish saying the word. Her lungs were constricting by themselves. It felt as though someone was deliberately squeezing all the air out her lungs. This was accompanied by another fierce jolt of pain from her heart as it pumped rapidly, completely out of control.

Digitalis…and sodium selenate…what were those?

The world was no longer swiftly tilting anymore. It had turned a misty white from the speed of its swirling. No matter how many times she attempted to blink, the white refused to clear from her eyes.

Digitalis…sodium selenate…

She groaned.

Saleh…Father…Joshua…

Saleh…Joshua…

Joshua…

I hate you…I hate you…

I think…no…

Joshua…

I love you…

I…

Belle was humming a sweet tune to herself while dusting the couch while she heard the breaking of glass coming from the bathroom.

"Your highness?" No response.

She tried the door.

It was locked.

Belle smiled. "Oh well, she probably doesn't want to be disturbed."

Holding the feather duster, she walked merrily away from the room. After this she still had to help the cooks in the kitchen to prepare the cutlery for dinner and lay out the tablecloth. She still had a lot to do, and she could hardly wait here all day for Princess Marisa to finish her bath.

Author's Note:

Haha, do you know, I actually went to check out the exact colours and names and functions for the medicines...lol...it was pretty fun XD Digitalis is derived from the foxglove plant, and it is used to treat coronary (heart) diseases. It can lower heart rate, or increase heart rate. Yeah, and it is fatal to those who take it if they take it in large amounts. Sodium selenate is white, that's all I know, and it's deadly. Like really toxic. Haha, derived from ionic compound of sodium and selenium, it is usually found in powder form, but it can be compressed to form pills. It can cause acute repiratory problems when injested.

Haha, this chapter was pretty fun. I placed it here cos Marisa usually would be sharp enough to detect differences in the pills, but then she is ill, and when one has just recovered from a fainting attack, one is pretty much still a bit on the huh-what-just-happened side. Haha, this is from personal exp

Alright, hope to post next chapter soon. Probably from Joshua's POV, kinda.

Love~snowylavendermist (who is bubbly and cheery today cos she just slept in late, 10.35 am in the morning, cloudy + windy)