TWO
"Oh Alexander! Is it really necessary for him to leave? I am sure there is much he can learn here within the palace"
"My dear Victoria, it is custom and tradition that at age eighteen, the Prince of Ayortha must live in Kyrria for a period of time. Just as the Prince of Kyrria must stay with us for awhile. You know this as well as I do. Do not fret my queen."
The Prince observed the King and Queen from a distance. His mother was worrying too much about his wellbeing. He was already packed and ready to depart next light. And plus…his purpose for leaving was not only because of tradition. He was on an important mission.
"But…it has been only two months since he has returned. You do not understand how a mother misses her child, how she always thinks about where he is, what he is doing. For the past year I have been wondering whether my son is hurt, whether he is safe, whether God has taken his breath."
As the Queen spoke the Prince could see tears welling up in her eyes.
"Mother," the Prince spoke for the first time. "Now you know that I am alive and well. I am not a child anymore and I am ready to depart as soon as possible."
"But you have not fully recovered yet," his mother protested knowing she was losing the argument.
The prince looked his mother in the eye. With a soft but strong whisper he merely said, "That which does not kill me can only make me stronger."
King Alexander turned his head ever so slowly away from his son and wife and looked out the window. With a faraway look in his eyes, he whispered so quietly that the Prince had to strain his ears to hear. "Yes. My son is growing up."
He turned to walk away but not before the Prince got a glimpse of an odd look in his father's eyes.
The Prince excused himself and left his mother standing all alone in the middle of the chamber.
The Prince did not sleep peacefully that night, just as he hadn't done so for the past year. Many thoughts ran in his mind. He knew he was back but not completely. He had lost a part of himself, the year he had been away. Some of his companions had lost an arm, a leg and some, had even lost their lives and will to live.
Images flickered in the Prince's mind. Running. Panting. Stumbling. A man lay underneath his feet. He looked down. Ice blue eyes started up at his. Short raspy breaths. He looked up. A woman was hanging from a tree. Dark hair covering her face. The last vision in the Prince's head was that of a man. Pleading, begging, for his life, for his soul.
As Agatha walked into the room, she realized something was different. She limped over to the lavender bed in the corner of the dark bedroom, hand on her weak back and pulled the blankets.
"Just as I thought," she said to herself.
Agatha went over to the window and drew the curtains. She looked around her eyes searching. She saw what she had expected to see in the fields.
"Poor girl," Agatha sighed sadly. "So much suffering."
With a sad look in her eyes, Agatha walked out of the room. Before closing the door, she glanced over to the window once more. Blue shawl draped over her slender body, a girl sat on a boulder staring out at the setting sun.
Agatha slowly closed the door and made her way out to the grassy fields.