A little girl, a little boy
Maybe both? An important ploy
Because they don't know what's going on
And they won't till the new day dawns

== Meulin: Hide

Of course you are hiding; you are a powerful mage and the nobles fear you. Throughout your travels, you have encountered exactly zero Magicals. It is quite depressing for you, how little magic is left in the kingdom. Anyone who is magical or psychic is killed almost as soon as they discover their powers. You were lucky. Your parents think you are dead. You have seen the gravestone.

Once the knights pass you by, you make eye contact with the one in the back. He has dark hair and blue eyes and is shaped like a girl. This is because he is, in fact, a she in disguise. Latula has been disguised as a man in order to be a knight for about five years now, since she was fifteen. She achieved knighthood at nineteen, very young. You are very happy for her.

"She's not here," Latula says, scanning the woods. She makes brief eye contact with you and you nod. "And if she is, she's been eaten alive."

"How do you know?" an older knight asks suspiciously.

"This is my home village. As children, we were told that if we went near the woods, the wolves would eat us," Latula answers. This is not a lie. However, it is a ghost story that every child in the village tells. As far as you know, no one has ever been eaten alive in these woods. You collect herbs here to sell in the village.

The knights ride by. Latula "drops" something and you pick it up. It has something to do with your plan, you are sure. Not your plan specifically, but the plan of the Magicals. It is something you have been working on for many long years, and this may be the year you finally pull it off.

You stash the note in one of the pouches that decorates your mage's costume. You all wear peasant clothes, because you don't have much money, but you have many pockets for herbs and other things you sell. A real mage needs nothing besides their mind to perform magic. Herbs are for the witches and sylphs, who brew up potions with healing powers. However, you do gather herbs because you are the most accustomed to the forest.

After a long trek, you arrive at the house. You knock thrice, once, then four times. Aranea opens the door and you enter. You are exhausted.

Everyone is at the table for the late night meal, including your sister. You gather Nepeta in your arms in a tight embrace. Every time you leave, you fear that she won't be there when you return. She hugs you back just as tightly. "I have something to tell you," she says.

You are suddenly terrified, all your relief vanishing in an instant. You nod and she continues. "I'm betrothed to Eridan."

You understand her sadness over this. She had told you who she is in love with; the young knight who seems to try to prevent bloodshed. But she is not done.

"I'm a Magical," she says. "Officially. I'm the Rogue of Heart."

She seems excited, and you can't blame her. She can now officially be part of the plan. "Oh, I'm so proud of you!" you exclaimed, hugging her again. You release her and rest your hands on her upper arms. You are about four inches taller than her, because you take after your father and she takes after your mother. You share your father's startling green eyes and dark hair against pale skin, a striking but (many tell you) beautiful combination. You are fairly tall and curvy (like your paternal grandmother) and people say you are the prettiest woman in the village. Your sister is also curvy, but less so. She is short and very thin, although her face is rather round. She had wide, olive green eyes that border on hazel when the light is right. Her hair is dark, but more a chestnut color, and short. It is curly, very curly, and very thick. She is also pretty, but you think that she will be just as gorgeous as people say you are (you don't properly believe them) when she is older. She is convinced that she won't grow or change any more, but you didn't arrive at your full height and shape until you were nineteen. Then, you think, she will be a heartbreaker.

People say you are a heartbreaker, but you don't do it on purpose.

You are married, secretly. You see your husband quite often, for a Magical. You see Kurloz at least once a week, usually more. He is a prince, and he was betrothed to Latula before she faked her death and became a knight.

You were betrothed, once. To a man named Cronus. You never knew him, but you are certain now that you've met him that Kurloz is the one for you. You believe that Cronus is the older brother of Eridan, which means that your parents are trying to marry your sister into the same family. You aren't surprised, honestly. But your sister is so sad, just so sad, to be engaged. You wish that it didn't have to be this.

You are suddenly exhausted and nauseous. It must be that long walk. You sit down on the old couch and double over, a technique that always cures your nausea. The pounding in your stomach disappears and you stand up too quickly, getting dizzy in the process. You really need to eat something and get some rest.

"Three months," your sister says, and you know she means until her marriage. As the Mage of Heart, you know that you must do everything you can to prevent this.

You see the deep misery in your sister's eyes and you remember how much you hated being betrothed. You were a disappointment to your parents, and she must feel like she is too. You wish you could beg her to remember that your parents love her, and that she should never feel like she is in the wrong for being female.

"Meulin," Kankri says. "Was your mission a success?"

"No," you answer. "No one. More and more Magicals are being killed even before they grow out of their powers."

"Anyone under the age of eight?" Kankri asks. Eight is the age by when most people outgrow any powers they had. Maybe half of all children are born with magic, and of those, nine-tenths outgrow it by eight. By ten, about one or two in a thousand still have powers. If they haven't shown anything by seven, they don't have any.

You often used to hope that you'd outgrow your magic.

Your sister never had any. You don't know why, but she has no magic, just her own (very impressive) skills.

"We must prepare for the meeting tomorrow," Aranea says. Kankri is the leader, but Aranea does much of the logistics and Meenah much of the actual leading. "We best have a nice meal, all the chairs out, and the plans out for all to see."

"It is past eleven," Terezi says. "We ought to get to bed. We can prepare tomorrow."

"The night workers will be home at three," Rose says. She can often see the future. "They will have enough for said meal." She turns to your sister. "You will begin work tomorrow."

She smiles brightly. "I'm glad to be able to help," she says.

"Meulin," Rose says, turning to you. "When did you last see your husband?"

"Yesterday," you answer promptly. You don't forget those visits. Rose nods, and you wonder what she's talking about.

You yawn as the meal finishes. "I'm exhausted," you say. "Let's go to bed."

The table nods a consensus. "You can sleep here tonight," Aranea says to your sister. "You need to be back by when?"

"Nine," she answers.

Because the house is supported by magic, the rooms are stacked in odd ways. In addition to the eight sleeping rooms, there are two rooms for the magical children who seek refuge here. You are the only one who doesn't share, simply because your room is the smallest. But you will share with your little sister tonight.

You drag yourself up the stairs to the last room on the top, where you sleep. For some reason, you could just pass out. And you really have to go to the bathroom. You're feeling really miserable, and you could just break down and start sobbing right now.

What is wrong with you tonight?

When you wake the next morning, your sister is gone. Rufioh and Vriska and Roxy and Meenah are asleep in their respective rooms. As usual, you are the last to rise. You check your pouches for your supplies. Everything is there. You are ready to face the day.

Strike that. You are not ready to do anything. You feel worse than yesterday and—oh shit, you're going to vomit. You rush downstairs and out the door, slamming it behind you. You double over in the bushes and vomit until there is nothing left in your stomach, and even then bile burns your throat. Even more tired than before, you sprawl on the grass and stare up at the sky. What has brought this on?

"Are you ready, Meulin?" Sollux asks. He is the other mage, therefore he works with you. You have four stands in the market: medicine and sylphs, clothing and seers, herbs and witches, and food and mages. You don't know if you should go into town today, but tonight is the big meeting, in which you will discuss the Plan. You need money to get food for this.

You wipe your mouth and wash up inside. Many of your friends give you concerned looks, but you ignore them. A horrible fear is growing the back of your mind and you know already that it would be the biggest problem that the Plan has ever encountered. You can't afford to let your worries be known.

"Come on," Sollux says simply. He rarely speaks much, preferring introversion. You work in the front of the shop, because you are social and extroverted. He does the behind-the-scenes work, and it works beautifully. Your stand runs very well.

It isn't until the afternoon that you finally get magic business. The first person to arrive is a young man who looks sullen and is clearly upset. You can see the tear tracks on his face.

"I'm here to see someone about Games of the Heart," he says. He wants to see you, then.

"That would be me," you say. Mages, games, it's a clever little anagram Sollux came up with. "Come with me. What is this about?"

"My wife," the man says stiffly. He probably thinks she is cheating; don't they always? But something about that doesn't quite fit with your observations of him.

"Sit," you say kindly. You sit across from him at a small table. You look at him and gesture for him to begin.

"My wife has been in labor for two days," he says. "Can you deliver the child and save my wife?"

"I can save no lives," you say. "My magic cannot revive the dead or bring back one from the brink of death. I can likely deliver the child; the rest is up to your wife's constitution."

He sighs, nods. You can see that he loves his wife. You place your palms face up on the table and close your eyes. This is how you can work magic the best. You can deliver the child, because a child is so full of love, but you are nearly certain that the mother will die.

You squint your eyes shut as you use your magic to free the child. You see how pale and ill the mother is and you wish you could help her, but she is too close to death for you to help.

"The child is delivered," you finally say, opening your eyes. The man leaves a sum of money on the table and you count it before tucking it into a hidden pouch under a rag rug.

Sollux nods at you as you take over the front of the shop and continue your work.

Your work can be very saddening sometimes.

On the other hand, is the work of a mage ever happy?