Shackles of Equanimity

Possibly no one expects that even in the deepest state of peace and calm, there would still be restrictions and such, right?

Indeed, there is hardly anything that cannot be done in such a state. To achieve a state of mental harmony and stability, how much effort needs to be taken? But how great the rewards are of undisturbed introspective time with yourself!

Yet, even in absolute peace, there are shackles. Because there is no such thing as absolute peace. It is human nature, to think about the things that bother us, that frustrate us. We may strive for equanimity, but the every equanimity itself is a shackle, for it is impossible to attain in its pure form.

When she finally opened her eyes again, the whirling yellow and brown crinkly dried leaves of autumn had been swept away already. In their places were spinning white powdery and flaky wet icy snowflakes of winter. In her absence from the world, the earth had surreptitiously changed from golden, red and brown to bare white and grey.

In those two long months, beside surviving on a strict diet of glucose drips and restore staves, she had shut herself away mentally, doing nothing except lying down on the bed in a general state of unconsciousness.

Her awakening was good news to most. Queen Ismaire was thrilled that she had woken up. Joshua fussed endlessly by her bedside, despite the fact that she was cared for by attendants every single second. Belle assisted Joshua in the fussing, and brought her continuous streams of the latest palace gossip and nutritious food that was supposed to strengthen her debilitated body. The other servants were…well…servants. They gawked at her and pointed and gossiped until they were shooed away by Belle.

But she did have the luxury of personal time when everyone else was busy doing their other tasks and chores. She was also mostly alone in the dead of the night, when nothing except the owls was still awake.

It was a little uncomfortable to sleep with a roaring fire crackling in the fireplace (too noisy and too warm), an assortment of heal staves surrounding the bed in a disorderly fashion in case of emergencies (too bright since they reflected light from the fire) and two dozen needles stuck in random areas of her body (this one was obvious, the pain was brutal), some of which were for the glucose drip, others of which were to measure her blood pressure, heartbeat rate, breathing capacity and so on.

So she was left was plenty of time by herself, lying awake on the bed with her eyes closed tightly to delude the healers into thinking that their medicines were working their magic.

But there was not much anyone could do when he or she was confined to a bed in a stiff position with his or her eyes shut tightly together.

Eyelids were, in general, not very interesting body parts to examine.

And thus, she was reduced to thinking; lots and lots of deep insightful thinking that eventually amounted to nothing beside memories and emptiness.

If there was one take-away she had, it was that finally, she realized what she was.

A pawn.

Like the small little insignificant chess piece on the chessboard.

A pawn.

In chess, the king was vital, and the king in this case was Queen Ismaire. Oh, the irony.

The queen, a useful piece to assist the king, was Prince Joshua. He makes a wonderful queen, she thought dryly.

The bishops' main duty was to protect the king and queen, and sacrifice themselves, if necessary, to secure valuable positions. Those would be the prime minister and the house of ministers. As much as she would have liked to exclude him, Sir Alexander was the bishop of the Jehannan royal family.

And a very secure bishop he would make, I'm sure, she thought with much distaste. Queen Ismaire's prophetic foresight is certainly impeccable.

And then it would be the knights, the cannons. Those were the infantry units and cavalry. Jehanna possessed a small cavalry, with few riding units, many of which were mercenaries from Renais. Most of their army was infantry, skilled swordmasters and sages honed at their craft. There were a few archers, mostly foreign talents imported from Frelia, and a few pegasus knights here and there. Druids were scarce, and bishops were present in infinitesimal quantities, too small to even be considered for battle.

But still, these units would be ones to defend the country, protect the royal family and save the crown. They had a purpose, and an important at that. They would be honoured in the event of their death, and their families compensated.

But her?

She chuckled darkly.

She was a pawn.

Even when she herself said the word, she enunciated it with scorn and haughtiness.

A pawn was the most insignificant member of all on the board. It was meant to be sacrificed. Its sole purpose was to provide a front-line defense that would surely crumble under the enemies' attack.

They were meant to be dead.

They were meant to be thrown away after use.

They were meant to be discarded.

So am I.

And she was a pawn, a lowly little pawn in their grand scheme of things. She had no direction of where she was heading, and she had little clue of her bleak future. Her moves were going to be planned out by the puppeteers pulling the strings, and they would dictate the course of her fate.

She was Queen Ismaire's pawn. She was the queen's tool for an heir for the crown of Jehanna. She would produce that royal child that would secure the throne of Jehanna and the hearts of the people.

She was Joshua's pawn. Joshua had blatantly told her from the start that their relationship was one of making use of each other. That was cold hard truth. She was her tool to reach and secure the throne. She was his cover that he was legitimate prince, and his blind to shield him from public rumours of his and Natasha's affair. Their relationship ends with his coronation, and that was it.

She was her father's pawn. She had been her father's pawn since young. Her father didn't know, but she knew exactly what he had been using as credit for loans. He always told his creditors "Marisa will pay you back soon", and the creditors gave him money grudgingly to feed his gambling addiction. And so she worked as a mercenary from the age of twelve to pay off her father's mountainous piles of debts. And the most miserable part was that she loved this puppeteer, because he was her father.

She had been manipulated, harassed, demanded by all the people around her since a tender age, and it had continued into adulthood. On the day of Joshua's coronation, with peace in Jehanna again, she would ousted from the palace by the back door, with only her shamshir, and she would resume her life as a street urchin. Her reputation in tatters, her name sullied and disgraced for being discarded by her former husband, her skills tarnished and her youth faded, no one would leave any pity for her.

Maybe except her friends.

But her friends would leave eventually. Gerik and Tethys would eventually start a family and leave their mercenary lives. Ewan would grow up and leave to explore the world. Saleh would be immersed in her scholarly studies.

Everyone would have a bright future to look forward to.

Everyone except her.

After such a long period of silent reflection, she had finally realized that all along, she had unwittingly been playing the pawn. By having emotions, by succumbing to these things called feelings, she had been a fool. She flared whenever they needed her anger; she laughed whenever they needed to placate her; she fell in love when they needed her devotion; she broke her heart when they needed her sorrow.

Everything…everything was an elaborate plot by all of them. Every single one of them. They were master puppeteers, ardent manipulators, and adroit artisans of the art of toying with others' feelings.

She had been blind, foolish and innocent. But after three long confining months of agony and despondence in her feeble state, she was discerning, smarter and sharper.

Never again would she be fooled.

That was why she simply felt a strange calmness when Sir Alexander drifted into the room, announcing that he had been very worried about her health and had taken the time off to visit her.

"It grieves my heart to see your highness like this," he said, squeezing a tear of two from the corners of his eyes. "I am truly sorry if my sudden visit will enervate your highness further." He dabbed his eyes pretentiously with his white silk handkerchief.

"I thank you for your concern, Sir Alexander," she drawled, more of boredom than of dislike.

"I hope that your highness' recent condition was nothing because of the…ahh…servants' talk going around about your highness?" he asked smugly. "Surely you must have heard of it. No! How extraordinary!" He shaped his plump face into one of shock, contorting his mouth into a large 'o'.

She wondered if she could stuff an orange and stopper his mouth. Then it would save her mouth the strain of smiling at him out of sheer courtesy.

"Well then, I shall take the pains to enlighten your highness," he smiled, oozing in a false sincerity that made her skin crawl. "They are rumours, the servants' dinner talk, that your highness has taken multiple lovers behind the prince's back."

She raised an eyebrow at his words. Surprisingly, his words no longer cut her or agitated her the least. Instead, she felt a curious sense of amusement and her lips curled into a smile. "And so? Are there any implications?"

Sir Alexander looked genuinely shocked for a split second, then maneuvered his ruddy face into an expression of surprise. "But your highness!" He cried. "Are you not furious at them? Are you not itching to behead those who have spread these utter lies about you? Don't you wish to know the details of these malicious gossip?"

His outburst only caused her to smile wider. Now, she was genuinely amused. If I could behead him, I certainly would. Behead those servants? No thanks; I still crave my luxuries like good food and soft bedding. "Pray tell, my dear prime minister. Why indeed should I be interested about servants' talk?"

He looked flabbergasted. "But your highness!" he spluttered. "They are about you! They desecrate your royal chaste image! They taint your imperial sacred name and title! They defame your highness' noble visage and portrait!" He added slyly. "And the prince has heard about them too."

Oh, and I am supposed to feel something just because Joshua knows about it? She resisted the impulse to burst into laughter at the outrageousness of the situation. I think I like myself this way better. No feelings; no emotions; nothing. "And how does that engender any alarm in me by any chance?" She dismissed his spluttering as though they were nothing of importance.

His mouth dropped open involuntarily.

Oh, yes, Sir Alexander. Meet the new me. I can assure you, I will not let you off this easily. You had better watch your step. Keep in mind: toe the line, for if you step over, I shall be the one to push you over.

He swallowed. Evidently, she had foiled his plans.

"Your highness, you are…peculiar this morning…" He mopped his forehead with his sleeve lightly, smiling uneasily. She could see the cunning and evil intentions slipping away in his eyes, replaced by a wary caution and frantic confusion. "If the prince know…surely that would place some friction between the two of you that would lead to a scandal in the royal family? This matter is of utmost peril to the palace and royal family!"

She laughed derisively. "Believe me, Sir Alexander. The prince and I are erratic people; we do not argue over such trivial matters. It is of no concern to us whether the rumour persists or dies down. Rumours are rumours, they are groundless."

"No smoke without fire," he muttered incoherently under his breath, but she caught his words.

"Indeed, especially when the fires are started intentionally by someone else," she countered, resuming a nonchalant expression. "Curious, isn't it? I wonder who started the rumours. That person must have been severely offended by the royal family. I heard something about Joshua being quite interested in firing the person who started this rumour mill, and the queen seems to be the buttress of his idea. I do wonder who it is…" Her eyes flickered knowingly to him, a triumphant but subdued expression in her eyes.

His face turned an unappealing shade of mottled purple. He coughed heavily into his white silk handkerchief. He appeared to be trying to regain his composure and clam his agitation, but his hands were trembling.

Puzzled by my contradictory actions? She sniggered internally. Shouldn't be. After all, my dear prime minister, you started the war.

With a hasty farewell, Sir Alexander exited the room with as much dignity as he could muster with shaking hands and an unattractive maroon face. She caught the sharp look of bewilderment, suspicion and hatred that gleamed in his eyes as he stared at her just before shutting the door. It felt like being looked upon by the Evil Eye, but she held her ground. Smiling falsely, she gave him a little wave, following which he slammed the door heavily.

I won.

She leant back on the bed in euphoria and the sweet taste of vengeance. Oh…he will be having several sleepless nights starting from tonight…She giggled.

She liked herself better this way. Without emotions and feelings, she could discard all her emotional burden, everything she felt when she had been bound by her heart.

This way, with the cold dark shadow cloaking her heart and the grey veil pulled over her eyes, she would act with a cool head and with rational awareness. No way were they going to manipulate her any longer. She was going to be her own person. And she was going to decide her own fate.

Between pain and a numbing blankness, she would prefer the latter.

That particular afternoon, she awoke to shouting in the sitting room. Even with the door closed tightly, she could hear the shouting match taking place in the outer room. So much for apparently soundproof walls.

"I tell you, we're taking her away!" That was Gerik. She could recognize that coarse, loud and rumbling voice anywhere. He was shouting at the top of his voice, something he never did unless he was very angry.

"You are not doing anything remotely like that." That would be her dearest husband Joshua, the one who cheated on her with the cleric in the infirmary and fathered an illegitimate child behind her back. "I will never allow you to take Marisa away."

"And who are you to stop me?" Gerik threatened. She guessed currently he was showing off his beefy muscles to a very annoyed Joshua who would hardly be impressed by the bulging lumps, considering that he was one who favoured speed and sleekness.

"I, if you recall, am the prince." Joshua retorted simply, his polite words barely masking the strain in his voice from his fury.

"I don't care if you are the holy emperor from beyond the seas!" Gerik bellowed. "We are taking her away this instant! Come Tethys! We shall take her away from this damned palace!"

There was a heavy knock on the door as she heard someone's body slam onto it. "Not over my dead body." Joshua had dumped the diplomatic and polite trash.

"If we wait anymore it'll be over her dead body!" Gerik shouted furiously. "First, you kidnap her into this confining carpeted hole you call a palace by betting with her father! Then you went on and let her soak herself till she collapsed from near death due to her fever! And now you drive her to sheer desperation that she even took pills to escape this carpeted hellhole and your flaming waterfall of hair! And you won't let us take her away?"

Took pills to escape this carpeted hellhole? Hell, did they really think I wanted to subject myself to this silent torture? It was because some stupid servant accidentally switched my medicine! She huffed in annoyance. Gerik was always so worried about her, but he always worried about the wrong things.

"No." Joshua was stubborn.

"Are you going to let us pass?" Gerik demanded.

"No." Joshua persisted.

My…but he is persistent…maybe it's just a possessive streak, even over a toy he doesn't like.

"Are you stupid?" Gerik snarled. She could tell that he was quickly losing his patience.

"No." Joshua gritted his teeth, but held his ground.

There was heavy pounding on the door, then Gerik's roar of rage as the pounding stopped. If that was Joshua stopping Gerik from breaking down the door, she had to admit, but Joshua was much stronger than he looked. For a second, she marveled at her husband's strength.

The door burst open.

She sat up in bed, ready to face a worried Tethys and a storming Gerik.

Instead, it was Saleh.

Frantically, he rushed across her room to her bedside. Before she could even greet him, he clutched her to him in a tight, almost desperate embrace, like a drowning man clutching at a straw.

"Marisa…" he cried. "I was so worried when I heard the news!" He drew back and stared at her full in the face. He looked the epitome of rage, worry and relief at the same time. "How could you do such a thing to yourself! To take your life! Even if that bastard had been abhorrent to you, you could have always escaped from his demonic clutches! You could have come to me!" He brushed a stray hair away from her forehead affectionately. "I told you, I'll catch you if you fall. I'll always be there waiting for you." He brushed his hand over her cheeks. "You're so thin now…all because of that sick bastard…"

She hung her head a little. After all, the door was open and Joshua had a perfect view of Saleh holding her. Even though she was amused by Saleh's unusual outburst and Joshua's new label as 'that sick bastard', she still had enough modesty in her to blush when touched by someone who was not at all her husband.

Said sick bastard wrestled Gerik away from the door with surprising strength before rushing over beside her and tearing her away from Saleh's embrace.

"Take your hands off my wife." It was a command, an imperial edict. He closed his arms protectively around her.

Saleh appeared to not have even noticed his grandiose entrance. "Marisa…we came today to take you away," he said softly, offering her a gentle smile. Reaching forward, he grasped her hand. "This life in the palace is unhealthy for you. In all those years I knew you, you never fell ill. But ever since you came here, you have been falling ill, running fevers and attempting suicide out of the things that we actually know of." He sighed. "I won't let you suffer this type of abuse anymore. I'm taking you home."

"You are not." Joshua interrupted sharply. He tightened his hold on her till she was crushed against his chest.

"That's for her to decide," Gerik boomed. "Come on Marisa, we will overpower him. And then we can all go home and be mercenaries again!"

"Marisa, choose wisely," Tethys pleaded.

Saleh didn't encourage or dissuade her, but he gave her a look so full of longing and love and hope and happiness that her heart almost broke just looking at him. Slowly, he nodded his head, as though asking her to do the same and acquiesce to their request.

They are…such good friends…

Joshua's face was the opposite of Saleh's. It was dark, full of desperation and despondency and helplessness and fury. He stared unwavering at Saleh, his jaw clenched firmly.

"I won't allow it," he seethed.

"You will," Gerik retorted merrily. "Look Tethys, her gaze is wavering! She does that whenever she changes her mind." He did a happy jig there at the door. "Our Marisa is coming home with us today!" He danced, twirling Tethys in large circles. "Let's rename ourselves Marisa's Mercenaries!"

She chuckled gently, as did Saleh. Gerik was so cute sometimes that he acted almost like Ewan, or even younger than Ewan.

Joshua looked agitated. "No!" He said firmly. "I'm not letting you take her away. She belongs here, in the palace. I have the oathpaper."

"Damn you to a frilly hell with your blasted oathpaper!" Gerik roared in a fury, nearly dropping Tethys. "Who are you to stop us?"

He hesitated for an answer, but his gaze hardened. She knew he still had one trump card up his sleeve, that the ace of spades was hidden in his hand, and she foresaw him using that card to keep her in the palace.

"I. Am. Your. Prince." He pronounced each word fully and perfectly. She could see his unwillingness to use this, but she too could spy that hint of desperation in his eyes that called for this as a last resort. "You, as a citizen of Jehanna, are required to submit to my demands."

Gerik looked enraged and clenched his fists. He almost looked ready to crush Joshua into pulp with his bare hands until Tethys put a restraining hand on his arm as a warning. Swearing under his breath, he slammed his fist into the door, making a large dent in the wood covered with sharp splinters.

Blood dripped from his knuckles as he stormed out of the room, followed by Tethys.

She hung her head lower. She saw it coming. But she was powerless to warn them or stop Joshua.

Saleh looked downcast. "So you won't be coming back with us?" He whispered softly, his voice breaking.

His voice is breaking. She bit down on her lower lip. My heart is breaking too.

"Saleh…" She was afraid to look at him. She feared the look of deep sorrow and grief and disappointment that would lace his gaze. She was scared of the hint of tears that would be slowly but surely lining his eyes, making them gleam with a mournful luster. She swallowed heavily, then gave him a small smile, the best that she could salvage out of her own distress. "Saleh…I will come back. Once he is coronated, Joshua said that he would file for a divorce and I can return to all of you again." She glanced at her husband, who was wearing a look of unwillingness, for affirmation. "Right?"

He hesitated, then nodded. "I did promise you once upon a time," he corroborated, but tightened his hold on her shoulders.

Saleh looked struck by shock, but quickly recovered and his expression changed swiftly into one of elation. "Really! That's wonderful!" In his joy, his soft and mild tone rose by an octave. "I can hardly wait for that day to come, Marisa! It's not far from now, is it? It's not? That's wonderful!" He grasped Joshua's hands and shook them earnestly. "Thank you, your highness! I can hardly express my appreciation for your act of kindness for our Marisa. I was never good with words, but this time I must really thank you!" He stepped back, a wide smile on his face. "I must go and tell the rest the good news." He bowed to Joshua, then took her hand.

Behind her, Joshua stiffened.

"I await that day with eagerness, Marisa," he smiled. "Then we can finally sit by the cherry tree together again. We'll have so many things to do, maybe start a little cherry patisserie in town…" His gaze flickered to Joshua with slight apprehension. "I…" he hesitated.

Joshua stiffened even more and pulled her closer against him.

Saleh bit his lip, but shed his hesitation and gave her a broad smile. "Marisa." There was not the slightest trepidation in his voice, but it did possess a new bold courage. "I love you."

She gasped at the inappropriateness of the statement, even though she was truly touched by his profession. Joshua is behind me for goodness' sake! How can he profess his love while my husband stand behind me with a sword ready in hand! And he is the prince! She looked behind wildly at Joshua, who was breathing heavily and slowly, no doubt in a desperate bid to keep his feelings in check at Saleh's audacious statement. He's not taking this very well…I wonder…She felt a stab of pity for her husband. Having another man confess his desire for his wife right before him must be agonizing awkward and a heavy blow to his pride! She marveled at his excellent self-control. His sword is still in its scabbard, and his hands are still on my shoulders.

Drunk in his euphoria at the good news, Saleh appeared not to have noticed anything amiss. "I'll see you soon, Marisa." With one last bow to Joshua, he spun on his heels and whirled out of the room, his cape billowing behind him.

There was an awkward silence. A really awkward silence, in fact.

She sat on the bed with her head lowered, tracing the patterns intently on the bed sheets with feigned interest. She did not dare lift her head to look at him. Was he angry? Saddened? Frustrated? Annoyed? Going to lift his sword, dash after Saleh and disembowel him?

Whatever it was, she hoped it was not the last one. Saleh was her best friend, and even though she could hardly reciprocate his love she still had tender affections for this childhood friend who had grown up with her. She would definitely not permit Joshua to lift a finger to harm him.

She gasped as strong hands grasped her shoulders and winced as her back slammed against the wall. Before she could vocally protest, he covered her mouth in a crushing kiss.

Unable to stop herself, she whimpered under his ministrations. His tongue touched hers in long masterful strokes, causing her to squirm under his tight grasp. She was trapped between him and the wall, unable to do anything but succumb to him.

He pulled away slowly, his breathing ragged. "It's time for your medicine," he said, clearing his throat. "I'll ask Belle to bring it in for you."

He too, spun on his heels and left the room, leaving her alone and silent on the bed, mulling over what had just transpired.

Author's Note:

Guess what?

Joshua's jealous.

Hehe.

I'm ebbbiiiillll. (Change b to a v, sorry .)

I just re-wrote my entire outline for the story. And thus things might change a little. Don't really know whether it would be a good or a bad thing but...

XD Love, snowylavendermist