Days passed, turning into weeks. Smalls was allowed off the crutches around a week after the incident with Helmer, and a few days after that was feeling almost completely back to normal. He saw a lot of Evan but had yet to convince him to confess his courtship to Wilfred, which felt like a slowly ticking time bomb that was going to erupt into a huge disaster at any minute. He talked with Picket a few times, and their conversations remained cordial if not necessarily friendly. Kyle continued to pop up in strange places, but Smalls was doubtful he was anything more than a careless, reckless, over-confident buck whose curiosity had gotten the better of him. But it was annoying.

He tried to pretend he wasn't avoiding Heather, but that's what he really was doing. Evan still found it hilarious. Wilfred had tried to talk to him about it a few times, but Smalls had artfully dodged each of his questions and diverted him away from the subject.

Tension was rising, more citadels arriving by the day. The village Green was a constant buzz of activity, and nowhere was quiet and everywhere was packed. Aside from some trouble with Captain Frye from Halfwind, however, there hadn't been any truly aggressive behavior.

"Maybe a trial would help." Wilfred said one evening, while Smalls was (unfortunately) studying calculous.

Smalls looked up, surprised, "Why do you say that?"

"If I was found innocent, maybe the aggression would stop." Smalls had hard time believing that they would be able to find a jury that unprejudiced or that the hostility would halt solely because of that. Truthfully, the antagonism wouldn't really stop until someone with the power to pardon him fully actually said something. Someday…...

"It wouldn't stop the hatred." Smalls said.

"Perhaps not." Wilfred said thoughtfully. "But it might aid in clearing Heather and Picket's names. They don't deserve to bear any shame or guilt for what happened. And you certainly don't deserve the rumors or aggression."

Smalls still shook his head. "I don't think it's a good idea. Where would you find a jury that impartial? And anyways-you don't need a trial. You're innocent of it and no judge needs to say so for it to be true."

"No one was innocent, lad." Wilfred said sadly. "Everyone had a hand. When your father fell it wasn't just the death of our king, it was the death of our way of life." He sat back, shaking his head. "That's what people really miss, what he represented. No, there is guilt to be held by all parties, but especially by me." Smalls returned his gaze to his textbook, but felt the heartache welling up inside of him again. Why is it we must lose everything?

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"You're ridiculous." Evan said, interrupting Smalls from his study. Wilfred startled; he'd fallen asleep about half an hour before. He squinted at Evan, decided that he wasn't a threat, and closed his eyes again.

"Why do you say that?" Smalls mumbled, only half-listening as he tried to figure out why on earth anyone had ever thought it was an innovative idea to throw letters in with numbers.

"Do you know what I just overheard?"

"I don't have a fathomable guess."

"That doe you like-Heather. And her brother, whatever his name is." Smalls noticed Wilfred open his eyes and sit up again, and, taking this as a bad sign, lifted his book to cover his face. "She was asking if he'd seen you, which he said he had, but according to Heather, she hasn't seen you in nearly two weeks." Evan sent a smug look in Wilfred's direction, and Wilfred only shook his head. Smalls was wishing he could melt into the floor and disappear. "Care to tell me why you're avoiding this doe you supposedly aren't madly in love with?"

Smalls face grew hot, burning with embarrassment and shame. He tried to remain focused on his math but failed miserably. Why did Evan always get to him?

"Y'know, if she wasn't a Longtreader I'd bet money on how many suitors would be lining up." Evan said. He's just trying to rile you up. Ignore him. "Even so, she's pretty enough that there's still quite a few. I've overheard one or two things…..."

"That's enough, Evan." Wilfred interrupted. "Leave him alone. You've got better things to do than pester your brother. And you wouldn't say that in front of Heather, now, would you?" It was Evan's turn to look bashful.

"W-Well, no…..." He stuttered.

"Then don't say it away either."

"Sorry." He mumbled. "I guess I'll go to bed."

"Smart choice." Once Evan was gone, Wilfred turned to Smalls. "You aren't getting out of this this time."

Please, oh please just give me another word problem. Anything but this. Smalls thought, fiddling with his sword pommel nervously.

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After Smalls had been forced to explain as best he could, he and Wilfred sat in relative silence for a long time. Smalls thoroughly hated it when Wilfred decided to put his foot down about something, since it usually had to do with how Smalls was coping with things. And Smalls didn't like talking about that. He'd never liked talking about that. This time, however, he'd been given zero choice in the matter and Wilfred had dragged the truth out of him piece by piece.

"Well, what will you do about it?" Wilfred asked.

Smalls looked away. "Is 'nothing' an option?"

"Not a permanent one." Wilfred replied, shaking his head. "The longer you bottle this up, just as it would for everything else, the more intense it's going to become and the harder to conceal. You'll have to do something about it eventually."

"Not yet." Smalls said, trying to keep the pleading notes out of his voice.

"I'm not asking you to do anything about it now, but I am asking what your aim is. You already have a friendship with Heather, do you want something more?" Smalls' tongue stuck for a long time, and he couldn't find anything worthwhile to say, so he finally just settled on;

"Yes." Wilfred nodded.

"There. You've acknowledged that. Now you can make decisions from there." Wilfred stood, yawning. "I need some sleep. Good night." Smalls nodded, but remained where he was. He didn't move for a long while. He probably looked like he was studying-but he wasn't. Inside, he was a sea of turmoil.

The nightmares were becoming practically unbearable. Smalls was beginning to decide that sleep was just plain over-rated, and he could go without.

However, the lack of rest wasn't doing him any favors, and it was making his days almost as miserable as his nights. For the most part, he stayed away from people, and avoided especially the Halfwind soldiers. (A string of incidents with Captain Frye certainly had not improved them in his mind) He tried to avoid conversations all together. He was, as Evan tactfully said, 'in a mood'. His nervousness around Heather was climbing to a new high, something he decidedly blamed on his poor sleep schedule.

And he couldn't help but notice how frequently Kyle talked to her.

He was jealous, and he hated it. But Smalls wasn't willing yet to admit anything, just the fact that Wilfred and Evan knew was enough to make him shrivel up inside. And he still didn't like Kyle. Kyle was everything he wasn't-and vice versa.

It was inane that this was taking up so much of his energy. It was senseless and he needed to forget about it, but he couldn't. He just couldn't.

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More weeks passed. Smalls discovered that, if you wanted peace and quiet, the best place was the memorial Standing Stones the Votaries maintained. Aside from one very confused votary and a troubled Halfwind archer, he hadn't so far been disturbed. He preferred it there rather than in Lighthall. Here, he was actually alone. And it was quiet. Peaceful, even.

Other times he stayed in the library, where he saw Heather most. If he wasn't either of those places he was training with Evan, mostly because neither of them had anything better to do. On one of these occasions, after a particularly hard training session, Evan asked,

"If you could do anything in the world, what would you do?"

Smalls finished his water and contemplated a moment.

"I don't know. Get rid of Morbin, I suppose. What about you?"

"Marry Charity. Find somewhere quiet where I don't have to deal with politics."

"You'd cut yourself off from the rest of the family." Smalls remarked, squinting at his sword, which had gathered a thin layer of dust. He began to clean it. Evan shifted.

"Politics is your thing. You're good at that-I'm not. Asher's good at it, even if he does despise it." He paused. "What would you really do? I mean, I want the war to stop as much as the next person, but that's not what you really want, is it?" Smalls paused a moment.

"I don't know." He said at last. "I've never really thought about it."

"Well, then what would you do after the war is over?"

"If we survive? Well, I don't really know that either."

"You'll be king." Evan reminded him. "Wonder when that'll hit you." Smalls shrugged.

"It's too far off now. I'll think about it more, I'm sure, when the time comes." Evan nodded.

"It's strange, isn't it, how we're handed our destines on golden platters and expected to live up to them. I wonder what happens if we don't." Smalls wondered that every day of his life.

"We fail, I suppose." He finally replied. "And others suffer for that."

Evan took a sip of water. "I guess we better live up then, huh?" Smalls nodded. He finished cleaning his sword and sheathed it. He felt hot and sticky, and probably looked it to. "I wonder who your queen will be." Evan said.

"Shut up, Evan."

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Evan is that sibling. I love writing these two, mostly because making fun of Smalls is way too fun XD. This whole fic is actually finished, I'm just lazy about posting. And I'm working on a Ninjago Project right now-Monster, that's set to be done by the first week of next month. A bit of it's posted right now, if you want to take a look. I'd really appreciate it! I think I'm going to turn Ember's Blood into a series, so if anyone has any ideas of how to fill in the time jump between books 1 and 2 that'd be great! Oh, and thanks for reading! It means a lot!