Odette stared silently out the window, looking out over the lake, her eyes wandering from place to place, careful to avoid any spot that held any special memories of Alex, a practice she had been perfecting since Alex's disappearance. Twelve long years had passed since her kidnapping, and in that time, Odette had done her best to keep herself together, if only for the sake of her family.

Of course Odette missed Alex. She always would, just as she would always wonder what exactly became of her eldest daughter. But Alex's spot in Odette's heart had become an untouchable and secretive place, like a locked door that Odette just wanted to forget about. However, there were certain days, like Alex's birthday and the day she was kidnapped, when Odette would think back on Alex' short life and smile, knowing her daughter had received all the love six years with her family could possibly give her.

For Derek, it was hard to not blame himself for what happened. For years he lived with a secret guilt that on some occasions ate him up until he was forced to stay awake through the night. Sometimes his dreams would be plagued with Alex, Odette, and Zelda's faces, all of them asking why he didn't protect Alex better. Finally, all the guilt and regrets resided – or were pushed away – and he was able to go on with the parts of his life that weren't stolen from him; Odette, Eli, and Joan.

Eli never forgot his sister; his simple refusal would not allow for it. He was fiercely proud of what she had done and when he felt like he needed an example of courage, hers was the face he would think of. And when Joan was old enough to understand what Alex had done for her, she would beg and plead with Eli – who, for a time, harbored a small and unintentional resentment toward Joan, seeing as she was the one Alex had sacrificed herself for – for just one story about their older sister.

And while Alex's life was sometimes mourned, it was more often celebrated. Everyone in the family was just thankful she had existed and there might be a chance, no matter how slim, that somewhere, she still lived, waiting to come home.

XxX

"Come on and fight me!"

"I will, if you quit running away!"

"Knock it off!"

A tall brunette girl made her way to the center of a circle of excited children and grabbed the first two children, a pair of boys who were about to fight in the center of the circle. It was the classic situation – two contenders and a ring of instigators.

The girl was eighteen, with clear blue eyes and a beautiful face. She was slender, with wavy brown hair that fell down her back. She made her way swiftly to the center, standing straight and tall, overlooking the others. The entire circle fell silent with her approach.

"Who do you think you are, Alex?" the first boy demanded, angry that she had stopped him from exacting his revenge on the other boy, who had tried to steal a few gold coins, which he had stolen from a villager while he was not looking.

"Yeah, who died and made you queen?" the second boy said.

"I'm the one that's going to tear the both of you apart if you don't quit this senselessness. Edmund, if you wouldn't brag about every little trinket you have – and I don't even want to know how you acquired it this time – people wouldn't try to steal it. Henry, quit trying to antagonize people. It's immature. Grow up."

As if a signal went off, Edmund and Henry were suddenly on the same side. They couldn't stand Alex, simply for the fact that she was the only one around the orphanage who wouldn't tolerate disorder for very long. It was a well known, yet technically unofficial, fact that when Father Clarence wasn't around or was busy, Alex was in charge, and most of the children respected that unspoken rule.

Edmund and Henry, however, were very different. They hated authority in all forms, and they did everything they could to under mind it, especially Alex.

"What would you know about maturity and growing up?" Edmund asked. "You don't even have a clue who you were before you came here. You act like the princess, but the truth is, you don't have an idea."

"Yeah," Henry agreed. "For all you know, your mother was the embarrassing mistress to some drunk that prowled the street at night until a run away carriage hit them both. Or maybe…" Henry continued for a few minutes with filthy scenarios for Alex, each one worse and more offensive than the last. "I'll bet your mother was nothing more than a harlot and your father was a common beggar by day and a thief at night."

Somewhere along the way, Alex had had more than enough. She fought to keep her cool, to not completely unleash all different kinds of rage on these insolent boys.

In the end, she knew that they were, to a certain extent, right. She couldn't discount what they were saying, simply because it might be true. Her family and her memories had always been a touchy subject for her.

Since she was six years old when she arrived, it could be expected that she might remember some of who her family was. However, she could barely remember who she was, and even then, she only knew the bare essentials.

Several times, she had tried to remember something before coming to the orphanage; anything, a name, a face; anything that would help her identify herself and her family. But when she would try, she would be overcome by an extremely powerful headache that would persist for upwards of an hour, which is why she never vehemently chased her own identity.

Luckily, and not a moment too soon, two of Alex's friends joined her, and upon seeing Alex's frustration, the first, a blonde girl named Lydia, cast a stare that would stop an army at Edmund and Henry, who fidgeted nervously in her gaze.

"You two need to leave," Lydia growled. "Now."

The boys scampered fearfully away while Alex's other friend, a dark haired and olive skinned girl, named Mireia, spoke soothingly to her.

"Don't listen to them, Alex," Mireia said. "They don't know anything about you."

"And neither do I," Alex replied as she started to walk away. Mireia and Lydia loyally followed her.

The three had been friends since the moment they had laid eyes on each other. They were practically inseparable, a trait of friendship that was not common among quarrelsome orphans.

"Oh come on, Alex," Lydia said as she caught up. "You know some things."

"Yeah, I know the bare minimum; my name and my age. The rest of it… I just can't remember."

"Maybe there's a reason you don't remember," the always hopeful Mireia suggested. "Maybe it's all part of something big and important."

Alex shook her head. "What could be so big that it caused the loss of ninety-nine percent of my memories from before I came here, and why would it involve me?"

Neither Mireia nor Lydia had a definitive answer.

"The truth is; Edmund and Henry could be right. My mother could have been some harlot and my father a drunken beggar."

"Edmund and Henry are idiots and you know it," Lydia reminded her sharply. "Everyone here knows that they'll be the drunken beggars when they finally leave this place."

Alex chuckled, somewhat comforted by her friend, who would no longer take any of Alex's moodiness.

"And Alex, everyone here also knows that, one of these days, you're going to be great," Mireia said.

"Great at what?" Alex asked. She could think of no real instant of talent or impressive act in her life – except for… no, never mind. That was the shadow of a forgotten memory; more a dream than an actual event. She couldn't even be sure it was real…

"Who knows? The point is; you are destined for something better than all this," Lydia said, waving her hand around the orphanage grounds for added emphasis.

Alex didn't speak. She had no words to tell them of what she truly thought of herself; a nameless, wandering soul that probably should have died years ago. It certainly didn't make any sense that she would be some kind of great achiever. Before she could think too deeply on this subject, the trio passed by Father Clarence's small hut, which served as his office when he was working, and upon seeing them, Father Clarence stood at his window and waved at Alex, signaling for her to speak with him.

She excused herself from her friends, walked up to the little cottage, and entered. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

Clarence smiled at her from behind his worn wooden desk. "At ease, soldier," he said jokingly.

He had always called her soldier because of her very respectful and courtly way of handling things, a trait that made him wonder even more about her family and where she came from. "Have a seat."

Alex did so and was somewhat ill at ease about it. There was something about Clarence's face that made her worry. She wondered what bad news he had for her.

"Alex, I'm afraid I'll have to be very straight to the point, as I am very busy."

Alex looked at his desk, which was covered in papers and maps and writing implements. She nodded for him to continue.

"The reason I've been so busy today is that I've been relocated."

"Relocated?" Alex repeated questioningly.

"I've been asked to go to Brookshire. Do you know where that is?"

"It's in another kingdom, sir."

"Yes. And there are more people in need there than here. Their monarchy isn't nearly as benevolent as the one here. They need my help, Alexandra."

Alex nodded. He rarely used her full name, and when he did, it was usually a matter of urgency or seriousness.

With Clarence leaving, she knew someone would have to take care of the orphanage in his absence. Why shouldn't it be her? "I can handle the orphanage, sir. Just leave it to me."

"No, Alex. There are better things, more important things, waiting for you, and none of them will find you if you remain here."

"More important things?" It was odd that he was repeating what her friends had been saying only a few minutes ago. She wondered why they all thought she was destined for greatness.

"I knew, the moment I laid eyes on you, Alexandra, that you didn't belong here. You were something more, something special. You glowed. And when you spoke and told me that you didn't know who you were, let alone who your family was, I was so heartbroken. I would have liked to see you returned to a family that loves you. That's where you belong; with a family that loves and cherishes you."

"I've got one here."

"In a small way, yes. Yes, you do. But I think it would be better for you to get out on your own when the time comes."

"But what am I supposed to do? What great thing am I supposed to be known for and why does everyone around here insist that I'll be the one to do it?"

"It's all about the decisions you'll make in life. You're still young, Alex. There is a lot of time for you to make amazing decisions and do great things. There is one question: What will Alexandra do? What move will she make next? There is no way to tell, save for waiting for it all to happen. I can only tell you to be brave when the moment comes, and if you can manage that, whatever decision you make will be the right one."

Alex was silent as she pondered his words. They had talked often of her future and of who she was. In the beginning, he would often ask if she could remember anything about her past, and he would then be the one who would comfort her when she could remember nothing. They had grown quite close over the years. It hurt Alex in many ways that he was leaving, but she knew that she could not change his mind. He would go where he was needed, and he was needed in Brookshire.

"Alex, my replacement will be here in two weeks, and I'll be leaving before she arrives. When I leave, you will be in charge, and when my replacement arrives, I expect you to make him or her comfortable here."

"Yes sir… I can handle this place, really I can."

"I know. But I want better for you."

She took that as a closing to the conversation. She walked the short distance to the door and opened it. Before walking away, she looked over her shoulder at the man who had taken special care of her since her arrival at the orphanage.

"Thank you, sir. Thank you for everything."