NOTE! I will be unable to update all of July and half of August due to traveling and stuff. Sorry about that!

Sorry I couldn't get this out. I struck writer's block, then I realized my style of writing was switching over somewhat and rewrote some of it, though I still don't think I did it right...

Yeah. I've had loooads of trouble with this chapter. The writing is off, the plot is... nonexistant. The chapter is short, too. And not to mention, I won't be able to update for a while. However, I'll be bringing a notebook and pen and maybe, for once, I can actually write a story with pen and paper instead of the computer--something I was always unable to achieve.

But this chapter did start me to get thinking. I have some rough ideas ready to be brought into the story that still need to be flourished, as you can see with the ending. I'll try and smooth everything out next chapter.

Other than that, hope you enjoy!

Brief Edit, thanks to Nimue's review!

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CHAPTER FOUR

Secrets of Pass

I wake, my breathing ragged and in short breaths as though I had only just run a long distance without pause. As I realize my surroundings and my position, my heart starts to ease and settles into a more comfortable beat. I lift my hand to my head to ease its pounding as the distant recollections of my dreams arose in my mind and a weary, exasperated sigh escapes me. Must I recall the palace days every night?

With a grunt, I slowly hoist myself up and roll the blankets into a small bundle. I look to the east; the sun is still in its waking moments. On a normal day, it would have been far too early to be up.

But, despite my exhaustion, I could not linger and waste valuable time of escape and return. Quite the oxymoron.

With some reluctance, I hike up the trail again, pushing through the woods that I had waded through before under entirely different circumstances. Even physical.

I let out a slow sigh. Will Aquien recognize me as this? He had befriended the hideous, atrocious Kiersina. I am not the same Kiersina as I once was. I have gained flesh to add to my bones, and my skin had darkened and flushed to a healthier color. However, my eyes and my terrible hair have not changed from their horrible state. But I am not the repulsive Kiersina. I am merely below average.

It couldn't be that I have found true love! That would only result in--in falling in love with--

Quickly, I shake my head to clear myself of such thoughts. Impossible, I think forcefully as I pushed a branch aside. But I cannot help but recall...

I give a cry of annoyance. Could my thoughts ever settle down? Must I carry on such a heavy labor on my back? Must I remember every detail from the castle days?

Aquien will help me, I tell myself. It is likely to be true. Aquien will help me sort through my emotions and understanding. It will be another story that we will be sent to analyze. I allowed my thoughts to drift to the more wistful ideas of the past. Has he gotten Homer's works yet? Is he still in town, with my disappearance for years...?

I recall the daily routine of what I had in the past. Wake, chores, then visit the library and Aquien. I have not done anything resembling my past chores while I lived at the castle. Will my fingers remember how to work?

Apprehension and reason settled into me. Perhaps my sudden leave is far too rash.. but it is far too late to turn back. It is my fourth day gone.

And as all days, the fourth day comes to a close, forcing me to succumb to the darkness. And with darkness comes much needed sleep, and though I protest, I cannot help but dream once more...

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I stared, aghast at her words. I would be only far too happy to oblige, to depart--but would I be condemning my mother? "I--I can't," I said helplessly, my voice cracking as the fresh image of my mother's death appeared in my mind. I remembered how her warm, wrinkled hand turned cold and the last breath she exhaled, muttering--

She scoffed, interrupting my tears of my mother's funeral that never happened. How insensitive she was! "You can't?" she said. "You can't?" She had the look of disbelief. "Have you been cast out by your own country? I can see why; you are far too dishonorable and hideous to be kept within a country that retains dignity."

I bit my lip in flashing anger, her rudeness crediting to my rising dislike. Dishonorable? Hideous? I have received the latter comment often enough, and I thoroughly expected to receive it once more here. However, never had I ever been close to be called 'dishonorable.' The closest person to it was the pig, and even his words weren't quite so drastic!

I refrained myself from lashing out. She was, after all, royalty. A mistake could result in consequences that I feared for. Death? I could not die yet! I had not yet honored my mother's last wish! And I refused to let that happen. I would lie, I would act, I would suffer if it meant that I could uphold my mother's last request. "I'll let you think what you want to think, for I do not believe I can change your mind," I said, my voice shaking with the forced calm. "However, that is not true."

She smirked slightly. "Try to end the conversation civilly, are you?" she said, her voice with mock sweetness, like the berries in my neighbor's backyard that look so delicious but was venemous. "I don't understand why, cheating and... sneaking into my castle, my country, my home--as the mistress of a prince seeking my hand? You have no honor! And then to think that you wish to end any conversation between us civilly--"

"You want me to lash out, then?" I requested, eyeing her coldly. "You wish me to speak what I have in my mind?" Without waiting for a response, I continued, "I'm afraid I cannot do so."

"And why is that?" she demanded.

I merely smiled. "It is far too terrible for you to understand."

She merely stared at me, surprised at my bluntness. Had I said something out of line? I supposed that many treated the princess wth far too much respect, coating their words with sweet raspberry juice. I did that only when I wished to avoid a topic.

"Let me get my point across, princess, if you will allow me," I said, interrupting whatever thought she had at the moment. Not that I honestly cared. I briefly wondered if she was even capable of genuine thought. "Why would any prince ever want me to be his mistress?"

She pouted slightly, narrowing her eyes in anger. Perhaps she was frustrated that I did not immediately comply to her wishes; perhaps she was furious that I talked back to her. Either way, she was upset, to put it lightly. "I admit you have a point there," she readily agreed, "but with the prince of yours?" She scoffed. "I wouldn't put it over him. Heaven knows where his brain is."

I opened my mouth to respond but cut myself short from my blunt thoughts. If I had responded as I intended, I would have compared the princess's brain with the prince's--something I believed in, but I decided would be the wrong thing to say. As I closed my mouth, she took my act of thoughtfulness to be one of confusion. She had thought I'd drawn a blank--and for that, she smirked.

"Stumped, are you?" she said smugly. "Well, I'm sure your kin, the earthworm, wouldn't mind. After all, they are quite down low--and useless, disgusting, shriveling little creatures that shouldn't exist in the first place." Her earlier confident look was replaced by one of disgust as she pictured the moist earthworm turning into a flattened, dry crisp after the rain succumbed to the brilliant sun.

I stared at her, aghast. Perhaps I had spent a little too much time with Johnathan, but I thought earthworms dignified and did not deserve such insults. "The earthworms help the environment by loosening the soil and spreading nutrients for the flowers to grow," I told her, my voice barely civil, hinting at some coldness. I simply couldn't restrain myself.

She ignored me. I supposed she didn't enjoy being corrected or taught by someone she decided to be as her lesser. "I want you out!" she said firmly, her eyes blazing with anger and determination. "I want you to leave my castle immediately!

I gave her a look that made her hesitate slightly. I said somewhat apologetically (though it took great effort to have any effect at all), "Then I suppose duty tells me to bid you a good day, now, princess, but I'm afraid I cannot leave." I inclined my head in her direction. "Good day."

And with that, I turned on my heel and left, leaving the princess stunned at my rude behavior. Who dares to walk out on a princess?

I did.

But the beautiful paintings and murals that hung in the corridors and the ceraceous sculptures proudly standing on podiums didn't seem to impress me as much as they did only minutes earlier.

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"What do you think of the Princess of Aigesworth?"

The arrogant pig voiced his question the moment we were (almost) alone, out of earshot. The king had turned out to be quite a good-humored, kind man, courteous and civilized. I was not quite sure what to make of the queen yet, for she hardly spoke. On the few occasions that she did, she had plastered a smile on her face that I wasn't exactly sure was completely and honestly genuine.

Night had fallen, and the servant before us was guiding us to our bedchambers. Looking to my left, I realized that the pig was still awaiting my answer, which quite surprised me. Did he honestly care enough for my opinion? He seemed far too conceited; then again, he was likely far too dumb to be able to make a judgment by himself. "My duty would have me tell you that she is quite an intellectual, beautiful young lady, the ideal princess," I replied indifferently. "However, if I were to reply in honest, I would say she is quite a shallow, stubborn hog who is rather spoiled, snotty, and bad-tempered." I nodded. "She is honestly a perfect match for you, sir."

He, who had opened his mouth to respond to my apt description of the pampered princess, instantly shut his mouth and looked at me, his eyes hard, warning me not to say another word. And I did not intend to say another word, but his daring expression had tempted me to continue speaking. "I doubt even Cupid himself could find a more compatible person."

I felt him stiffen slightly and saw him shoot me a cold look. It was apparent that he did not appreciate my words, which only brought greater satisfaction down upon me. The words had slipped from my mouth before I knew it.

He deserved it anyways, the git.

I did not continue to aggravate him, for no good would come of it and even aggravation grows old after a few careless comments. Not to mention, he was royalty, and I would not be able to complete my mother's request via annoyance. Instead, I settled for a smug silence and left him to sulk in his own irritated quiet. I would have actually preferred if the whole walk back to the dormitories gifted upon us by the King of Aigesworth had remained in silent, but silence was not good enough for the incompetent pig.

No; he had to ruin it again with one of his persistent questions. Why did he wish to know my opinion, anyways? He very well knew what I thought of him.

"She is well-trained," he commented quietly, referring to the princess. "She would make a fine queen... but..."

I had been laughing mentally as he had voiced his thoughts aloud. Well-trained? Fine queen? Those were phrases I would never use as synonyms for the princess. However, by his contradictory term, I looked up, frowning. Did this prince have more common sense than I gave him credit for?

I sighed, shaking my head slightly, ridding myself of the thoughts. These past days in the palace... away from the disobedient but cheerful children that always made me smile. I missed their presence--the way they laughed, carefree and delighted. Their light-hearted personalities clashed with the snobbish royalty as oil and water. It was better not to dwell on hateful thoughts. Glide past them, glide away from them.

"She assumes far too quickly," the prince continued, his lips tugging downward into a frown. "It would result in numerous misunderstandings, which will result in... well..."

I sighed somewhat, sensing a critical analysis of the princess's character approaching. I was not disappointed; he voiced his thoughts of her character, intellectual ability, and overall personality, not seeming to realize that he was speaking at all. As it was--and though I reluctantly admitted it inwardly--I was impressed by some of his observations, observations that even I had failed to notice. Perhaps he deserved more than what I gave him.

"She does not care for the responsibilities of being queen, though she would do it," he commented, continuing. "Only half-heartedly, however. She would want something more exhilarating, rebellious--she seems the type to keep secrets to herself, secrets that have been created out of selfishness and would harm others, but later causing regret. Despite this, she wants to be queen, and a good one at that, though she may not hold any interest in the duties of a queen. She wants to do the best for her people. I suspect she will either die far too young or far too old, full of burdens and regret."

His commentary gradually continued to a somewhat more drastic state as he predicted her entire life based on the impression he was left with after one afternoon. I was quite surprised, and even more so when I agreed with some of it. What shocked me furthermore was that my earlier hate--no, I cannot use the term. My earlier strong dislike was fading away into a slight grudge with the prince's analysis, observing her character far more than the single one-dimension view I saw her as.

"She is rude and stubborn, determined--but in justice, she is fair-minded. I suspect that if a person allows her to be rude, he becomes her servant. If he puts up with it and responds with comebacks, she would respect him..."

I suddenly cut him off. "Do you love her?"

He halted in his ramblings as his gaze flickered over to me. His brows were furrowed in question, his eyes confused. "What?"

I refrained myself from doing anything but responding. "Do you love her?"

He hesitated and the silence immediately switched into one of awkwardness. He laughed slightly, not understanding what I had said. What was there not to understand? "Do I love her?" he repeated, dumbfounded.

I resisted a sigh that was slipping from my throat and repeated calmly, "Yes; do you love her?"

He seemed to be procrastinating in his response. Why, I did not know; however, he seemed uncomfortable with the question. I shot him a look, demanding an answer.

He understood my meaning.

"No," he responded finally and firmly. "No, I do not love her; though isn't it far too quick to decide?"

I simply shrugged and continued walking, opting for silence, letting him figure it out himself. After all, with my proposition, perhaps he would come to a decision faster with love as an obstacle. He, on the other hand, sighed and grudgingly followed, muttering under his breath.

I did not honestly care for what he was saying, but his words drifted to my ears and I couldn't block it out. And when I comprehended them, my eyes widened in alarm. He had not meant for me to hear it, just as I had not meant myself to hear it.

"Which makes it all the better."

Quickly, I dared to shoot him a glance, but he did not notice. Instead, he was so caught up in whatever was possessing his mind at the moment--perhaps something related to his earlier words?

What made him so afraid of love? I could not comprehend--did it have anything to relate to his attitude? From his rudeness down to the critical analysis of character? Did he analyze me as well, predicting what I would be like, what role I would play in his life? Did he analyze only to see if there would be anyone he might possibly love and steer clear of them?

I held my breath. What had aroused the paranoia of love?

It could be something as shallow as character, though I doubted this belief. It did not seem to be the most affable conversation topic, either, and I doubted I could dulcify it easily. He would be far too aware, judging his reaction to my simple question. It was likely a subject he agonized over, something he kept closely guarded.

"Your room, milady."

I looked up with a start, seeing the servant gesturing to an open door. I stepped in and looked around; the room was simply beautiful. A small smile stretched upon my face. The floor was carpeted with a deep royal red color and a beautifully carved mahogany four-poster bed with the same deep red draperies. I walked toward it and fingered the carvings.

The smile tugged upward as I ran my fingers across the small people drowning a figure in the depths of the water. I recognized it. My days of sanity back in my hometown where Aquien was--where we had pondered over stories daily. I remembered that one particular Monday morning when we decided to work on myths across the globe, analyzing the differences of cultures.

That seemed so long ago, and I missed it. I missed Aquien. A tear pricked my eye and I quickly brushed it away. Managing a small smile, I turned to the servant and said, "Thank you."

The servant merely nodded and took the pig away to his own bedchamber, and I did not care. Slowly, I lifted myself upon the soft bed and laid down, where sleep had at last consumed me.

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They say I am far too sly, too sneaky. They say I am far too twisted, often eavesdropping on conversations. I never mean to. I never did. It always somehow happens, as I found myself strolling aimlessly down the corridors early in the morning when I suspected everyone else still to be in bed. No, I lied. I was not strolling aimlessly; I was trying to find an exit. I wished to visit their gardens but got lost in the process.

But my intentions didn't matter. In fact, they hardly ever matter, but that is beside the point at the moment. I was wandering around the hallways when rising voices caught my interest. Curious, I looked for the source of the sound; it seemed to be behind one particular door.

"I don't like them, Daddy," came one voice--one that I recognized as Princess Anisa of Aigesworth's. She spoke firmly. "I want them to go away!"

I heard an impatient sigh, one that I assumed came from the king. I was not disappointed. "That is not polite, Anisa."

"But that one girl is an ugly thing," came the queen's voice. I bit my lip slightly to keep silent. "I still do not understand why she is here."

"But she does have wit with her," the king commented. "Intelligent too, by the looks of it."

"But ever so hideous," the queen said disdainfully. I could imagine her shaking her head lightly in disgust.

"I think she's a mistress," the princess declared, as though the matter were settled.

I glared at the door slightly, irritated. They were a shallow family, one that I did not honestly wish to be associated with. I turned my heel to leave when a new line of conversation caught my ear.

"That's not the concern, dear. The concern is the prince," the king said hastily. "It is why I called both of you here."

The queen heaved a feminine sigh and I envisioned her to shake her head slowly from side to side. "That much is true," she agreed. "Well, if you dislike him so much, perhaps you should marry him."

"What kind of logic is that, Mother?" Anisa said, angered. For once, I sided with her. Hate a man to marry him? I couldn't understand it.

"That is not the point," the king said, his tone exasperated. "I have not yet informed either of you of this information... but..." His voice trailed off and he seemed oddly tired; I could hardly relate this weakened old man to the jovial king I had been introduced with the day previous. "Eileen, you recall our son?"

There was a pause and my ears pricked for a response. "Son?" repeated Anisa, clearly shocked. "Mother, you had a son?"

No one spoke for a long moment. I could imagine Anisa's horrified face, that such a great secret was kept from her. I could predict the king's grave face, his eyes flickered to the floor in shame. And I could visualize the queen's frightened face, white with agony.

"Yes, I do," Eileen whispered, her voice frail and ready to break.

"What? Mother, Father, tell me! What's going on?" demanded Anisa, like a spoiled child would. However, for once, I did not blame her as I awaited the answer.

There was a grave sigh as the king began to speak. "Anisa, dear, before you were born, we had a son," he said, trying to be as gentle as possible. "For... for certain reasons that we cannot discuss right now, we were forced to give him away. The... the neighboring country was experiencing a difficult political era, one that had only just ended. We thought... if we gave him to that country, it would be sneakiest. After all, they were under a mess of obligations and the media could not cover everything with all that was going on. Any story could have easily been formulated.

"As it was, they were unable to produce an heir and accepted. However, with certain circumstances that they are experiencing at the moment, they have decided to return our son to us."

The king halted in his words, apprehensive. The princess was in shock as she voiced my very thoughts. "You--you don't mean..."

"I'm afraid so, Anisa," Eileen said gently. "Adrian is your brother."