Crimson Rain

by The God Slayer

Decades after the planet has finally known peace, through great sacrifice and struggle, something ancient and sinister stirs beneath the surface. A mad man rises with power the world thought was extinct and declares war on the planet, igniting a turn in history millenniums in the making.

10. Let You Down

Notes: Please be warned. This chapter depicts graphic violence and abuse.

Let You Down

Their return to Figaro was not celebrated. The lone ship pulled into the dock with solemn understanding, as word had been sent ahead that only the king and his son would be returning. That the Figaro military remained behind in Roskovo to keep ground.

Edgar was relieved when they had stepped off the boat and his wife, or any family and friends, had no shown up. It meant it had now leaked and reached Figaro yet. He had time to think of a way to approach what happened with his wife, as gently as he could. He knew no matter what though she would not take this well.

When they finally arrived at the castle, his wife was waiting for them at the main gate. She had her dress bunched in her hands and she looked pale, as if she had just run the entire castle to get here in time. Benjamin was behind her, and Celes beside her.

Edgar left Cambyses in the carriage for a moment and approached her. Her eyes went from him to the carriage and then back to him. It was clear she was afraid already of bad news. "Terra..." he reached for her hand, but she tugged it away, still staring.

"Where is she?"

"Terra, there is something we need to discuss, privately—"

She shoved him back, tears in her eyes. "Where is she Edgar?!"

"I had no choice," he told her, letting his tears show. "Please...let me explain."

Terra slapped him, startling not only him but Celes and Benjamin too. "How dare you!" She hit him again, though this time she shoved and shoved at him, silent and angry tears streaming down her face. "How dare you!" and kept hitting him until at last she gave him such a look of contempt it was as if he were looking at another person entirely. Then she stormed off.

---

Emma awoke shivering and in pain.

The room was encased in blackness all around her. The air was pallid, and difficult to breathe. She groggily felt around her as she drew herself upright. The floor beneath her was stone, and wet. It was ice cold. Her entire body ached as she managed to her knees, to carefully feel about her, to understand where she was. Hands roamed over icy water and stone for only a minute before she felt something, something wet and firm. She gingerly followed the length of the object, and when she felt her fingers slip through something, she gave a sharp scream and fell back.

Bones.

Panic soared through her. She tried to get to the other end of the room, but even she could not see in the darkness, and hit something that was unmovable. She tumbled back onto her bum, nose and forehead hurting from where she had run into the wall. Bitter tears stung in her eyes. Another cell, and this time an Roskovian cell, made possible only because of her father. She curled up, wrapped herself in her arms, and cried.

Cadence was wrong and what was worse, Emma had fallen for his lies. Her father hated her, more than even she thought he did. What did I do to you? she thought, sobbing. I—I don't understand...what did I do wrong?

The soft thump of footsteps aroused her from her thoughts. She picked herself up and backed away from the direction of the sound. The light reached her before the men. She covered her eyes with her arms and listened as the footsteps stopped before her.

A gravely voice pierced the silence. "Good, you are awake, that makes this easier."

Emma dared to peel her arms away, to look at whoever it was speaking, and gaped at the four soldiers before her. It was clear by their uniform, and the strange flag on the collars of their shirts, that they were Roskovian. They must have realized what she was thinking, what she was afraid of, because one of them smirked.

"Is this your first time seeing an Roskovian soldier, girl?"

Another shook his head. "You know we aren't supposed to chitchat with her. We have our orders."

The first man scoffed, and reached for the keyring at his waist. It came upon Emma immediately that they were taking her from the cell. She backed up further, until the wall pressed against her back. The men didn't pay her any of attention as they undid the lock on the cell and poured in. As soon as they touched her, she started to scream and kick, wild with fear. One of the men tried to scoop her off the floor, thinking it might help handle her better, but she started to pelt his back with tiny punches. Of course there was no pain in the strikes, the man was clearly annoyed by her resistance.

"Stop it, would you? I don't want to have to drag you out by your hair or by a chain, and I'm certain you won't either!"

Her screaming persisted.

The other soldier, who had unlocked the cell and antagonized her with his comments, watched in amusement. "She's as wild as a street dog."

"Your commentary does little to help!" the man growled, exasperated, even as he pinned her to the floor.

"Get off me!" she cried, kicking beneath him and smashing her fists onto his chest now. "Get off!"

The man laughed and leaned against the cell bars to watch. "Better hurry, Durik, we are already late."

The soldier, Durik, spared the other a nasty glare before he reached into his pockets to uncover a small set of cuffs. "Sit still," he commanded her, trying to cuff her hands together, but she was too wiggly. Emma's heart felt ready to burst from the fear, and her throat began to hurt from the screaming, but she knew she would rather die here then see where they were meant to take her.

"I said sit still!"

Emma's ears popped against the slap against the side of her head and her vision went white hot. The sounds around her muffled against the ringing . She cried from the pain and retreated from trying to hold the man back to cover her head. In the few seconds that passed from the strike and her attempt to protect herself, she felt the cold iron of the cuffs lock around one wrist and then the man grabbed her other arm to cuff them together.

When he was done, he picked her up by the cuffs and balanced her to her feet. As soon as he had let go though, she crumbled to the floor, disoriented from the slap. The other men laughed, except the one that clotted her. His face would reveal his thoughts. "I'm sorry, but you should have listened to me girl."

"So much for not chitchatting the girl," the prior soldier said through a smug smile.

The other mumbled something under his breath and went to pick the princess up again, like a sack of potatoes. "Uhn," her head was hurting so bad, but it was the queasy feeling that rattled through her now that bothered her the most.

"Good, you have her settled down. Let's go." the man turned and led the others out of the cell. The soldier carrying Emma hurried after them with long strides, which only upset her sick stomach even further. In just moments, a burning light seared across her. The comfort of it was unreal. When she tried to lift her head to see where she was, the soldier jostled her, to keep her still.

She had glanced the outside around her. A large courtyard, full to bursting with flowers she had never seen before and about a dozen other soldiers. The scents gripped her quickly then, and the cold, bitter air. Beneath her, the stone steps flew by. She closed her eyes as the motion sickness set in.

"You can't walk in with her like that," another man said, as they came to a stop.

"He wanted her, and this is how he will get her. The girl wouldn't listen to me."

"I'm just warning you Durik," the other said, and then she heard a door scrap open. She lifted her head again, feeling weak, and saw the courtyard close behind a giant iron door. The soldier jostled her again.

"Keep still girl, we're almost there."

Finally, after a terrifying minute that seemed to go on forever, the group stopped and Emma was hauled off the man's shoulder and back to her feet. Still uneasy on her feet, she dropped to the floor. Durik frowned at her, as the others laughed.

"You hit her a bit too hard there, Durik." one of them said by the door they had stopped in front of. "It is going to catch you hell, for sure."

"I barely slapped her," Durik defended himself. "Regardless, she's in perfect health for him. Just open the damn door so I can be done with this." she felt his gloved hand grip around her forearm and then a second later, she was yanked upward. "Come girl, we're here. And don't be disrespectful, do you hear me? Or we will both pay for it."

She was guided into the room forcibly by her arm. The room opened up into a large circle. Full statues of someone she couldn't recognize stood tall against the back wall, with Roskovian pennants draped behind them. At the center of the room sat a large table, topped with various foods and drinks. A butler was currently fixing decorations on it, but when he noticed them, he paled and hurried out of the room. The floor itself was bare, except over by the table, where a large fur rug covered the cold stone below. At each end of the room stood a door, guarded by two men.

The architecture was melancholic, and imposing. Such a stark contrast to Figaro or Thamasa. It also seemed older, hundreds and hundreds of years older. Some parts of the wall crumbled, and others had been patched up with mismatching stone.

Durik tossed her forward, and she landed hard on her arms. "Stay right there." and then he vanished through the door at the far left. Emma pushed herself back up, to survey the room. The aroma of the food was devastatingly pleasant. She couldn't tell how long she had been in that cell, but judging by how her stomach felt tight and pained her greatly, she knew it had been a few days at least.

She heard steps behind her, multiple sets, but couldn't bring herself to turn to see who it was. "If you desire to eat," a voice called behind her, chilling her. "You will have to work for it, for you will come to find that Roskovo differs greatly in this respect from Figaro."

Before she could attempt it herself, Durik appeared and forced her around. When her eyes drew over the broad structure of the man in front of her, her eyes first went to the golden crown upon his brow and then the sigil of his kingdom over his chest. A golden twin-headed snake, on a field of black. The king of Roskovo. His eyes were dark green, and hidden beneath bushy, black brows. Wrinkles formed around his lips at the deep frown he had on for her. At his side, a sword, and on the other side, some sort of club. The memory of him striking her on the field came back to her, only then he wore no crown or delicate threads.

When she didn't bow, one soldier pushed her down, until she was bowing. "Bow, you insolent wretch!"

The king's laughter boomed through the room. "Release her." the soldier let her go, and she looked up. Pain had already started to form in her neck. "This has been some time in the making, but here we are at last." he approached slowly. "Do you know who I am, girl?"

Emma couldn't look him in the eyes, and the fear bubbling in her told her not to. The man's face shadowed with irritation. "Your father didn't tell you of me?" he pressed. There was indignation and anger in his tone. "No matter...soon enough you will understand exactly the situation you are in and why." and then a smile formed. "Ah...but I almost forgot the introductions." he made a small, mocking bow. "I am known as Bertrand Maçon." her eyes widened as two figures appeared at his sides. "And, of course, you already know my sons."

As soon as her eyes met Lucas' dark green eyes she felt all strength leave her. He stood tall and rigid beside his father, looking upon her with what she could only feel was great contempt. The memory of him touching her, of hitting her, struck her hard. She could barely breathe, and it was clear enough for Bertrand, for he smirked. "Is that anyway to greet a former lover?"

Lucas' eyes turned hotly to his father before pressing back on Emma. "It is a pleasure to see you here finally."

Bertrand spoke then, completely ignoring her and his sons. "That will be all for now, captain." when the captain turned and walked passed Emma, she flinched just enough for the Roskovian king to notice. He raised a hand, to stop him. "Just a moment, captain..." the man turned around, to face him. "Remove her chains." Durik knelt to remove her bindings, and sat them on the nearby table. Emma drew herself away from the captain, ducking her eyes. "Hmm," Bertrand thought aloud. "Now you didn't think I would leave you cuffed like some animal, did you?"

Confused, Emma brought her eyes up to look at them before quickly looking away. The way Lucas was looking at her reminded her too much of the look in his eyes back at the manor. The captain asked, "Will that be all, your grace?"

"It is up to my sons." Bertrand glanced at his sons, amused. "Is this enough for you?"

Eric was quick to answer his father. "Please father...this is enough." it was Lucas' quiet that made Emma's stomach turn.

"You might as well have that useless thing you call a prick removed," the king told him, almost through a snarl. Eric looked away. "Time and time again I try to make you into a man, and you sniffle like some woman every time."

Lucas did not remove his eyes from Emma as he spoke, "My dear brother only needs time, and instruction."

Bertrand's laughter echoed in the large room. "If one has to be trained to be a man, I suppose there is no better course." he snapped his fingers, and captain Durik took her by the arm to hold her up. Emma's cry sounded as if it would shatter glass. She used her other arm to try and pry the captain's hand off of her, but it was if he held her with iron binds. She kicked ferociously as he dragged her towards the king and his sons.

The king approached her, amused by her wild display. "What sort of princess is educated so poorly in behavior?" he asked her, but she was sobbing too hard to really hear him. His eyes narrowed. "You will learn not to speak over men, in any fashion, as a woman should." but she persisted, and he struck her hard across the face. It was strong enough to make Durik let her go.

•••••••••••

The captain looked surprised, but clamped his mouth shut even as the king knelt beside her body. Her cheek was already bruising where he had struck her, and pitifully enough for the captain to witness, she only cried harder rather than fight. "Eric, come here." at first the young prince did not move, only gaped stupidly at his father. "I said come here, boy!" quickly, with a jolt of fear, he hurried over. "Remove her clothing."

The boy paled. "F-father...I...I don't..."

"Remove her clothing," he snarled, standing. "Now."

Sensing the boy did not wish to be part of this, and wishing to spare him, the captain spoke up to offer his assistance to the king. "I can do as you wish, my king."

"No!" he snapped and took his youngest son by the throat. He forced him to look at the princess. "My son will do it, or so fucking help me!"

"Please father," he croaked. "Don't make me do it."

Durik felt bad for the boy, in a way much worse than he felt for the girl. The prince was being forced to commit these atrocious cruelties.

Bertrand removed his hand quickly, nostrils flaring and face red. "Fine, if you feel so strongly about it," he allowed, but turned to the princess. "I will just make you feel more strongly about not doing as I bid you." without warning, he pressed his boot against the girl's throat and pressed hard. Durik flinched and, as any other day in the company of the king, held himself in check.

The girl clawed pathetically at the boot, gasping breathlessly. Immediately Lucas had taken a step forward, jaw clenched, but Bertrand lifted a hand to stop him. "Which is it, boy?" he was directing his youngest again, eyes hot with rage. "Which will you prevent?"

Eric tearfully said, "I will do as you say, just please...let her go." And just before she could lose consciousness, Bertrand removed his pressure and she sucked in as much air as she could.

When no one moved, or spoke, all except the poor girl crying. Bertrand tightened a screwy look on his son. "Now." with his head dipped low, he walked towards the princess. Durik wish there was some backbone to the boy, to help him stand up to his father and brother, but there was only jelly in the kid's body. He was clay in their hands.

Eric went for her shirt, trembling, but was met with swift resistance. Bertrand's laughter had always unnerved Durik, but something about it now...it was steeped in insanity. How could someone look at this situation and find enjoyment in it?

"No!" she cried, pushing at his face to keep him back. "P-Please...please..."

"If you do not have her undress in the next minute, I will lose my temper."

Durik knew what the king was suggesting the boy do, and felt that pity grow. Eric looked at his father with round, tearful eyes. "Please father...please don't make me."

Bertrand's cold eyes held his. "I am not making you do anything." and yet there was no clearer a knife to a person's throat than what he held to his own son. Eric cried and looked back at the princess.

Poor thing, the captain thought, as the boy raised a hand and struck the girl hard. The princess flinched away from him, losing her nerve to resist immediately, but when Eric paused, the king's anger thawed entirely.

"Keep going!"

Lucas, Durik saw, twitched every so gently at the order but watched as his younger brother beat the girl until she offered no resistance. Every hit drew the captain closer to nausea. It was one thing to draw your fists against a man, but there was something else, something incredibly sickening, in listening to the sound of a girl—of a kid—be beaten by a man. It was enough to make Durik look away, uncomfortable.

The girl's cries and whimpers died out only when Bertrand finally gave his son permission to stop. By then, the strange little thing Durik had dragged out of her cell laid breathing hard, bloodied. Broken. Eric began to sob.

"Quiet that nonsense," Bertrand snapped. "It is clearer now more than ever you are no man, but I cannot abide you as you are now. You will do as I say until I have found no vestige of this behavior!" when it was clear he would not stop crying, the king grew furious. "If that is how you wish to act, then your education will be harsher." he looked at Durik then. "Restrain her."

For half a heart beat Durik wanted to ask his king why, to point out that the girl was in no condition to resist any further, but drew himself away from that thought. It would only serve to get him in trouble. He went to the girl, and held her down. It was as he thought though—she was barely even conscious. Bertrand ushered his son towards her.

Realizing what it was his father wanted him to do, Eric paled. "You...you and Lucas promised me! You promised me!"

"I am your king, boy!" he howled. "You will do as I command!"

Astonishingly, Eric stood fast against his father. "No...!"

"Is that so...then you only have yourself to blame for what is to come." he snapped at Durik. "Bring her to me."

Quickly, as to not upset him any further, Durik lifted the girl and dragged her over. At Bertrand's feet, Durik held her up. The broad shouldered man simply turned to grab a glass of wine from the table and then splashed it against the girl's face. She sputtered into a semi-coherent state, still breathing very hard. Durik could tell she was struggling to stand, to pay attention.

Bertrand took her by the face and made her look up. "You can hear me, can't you?" he didn't wait for an answer. "Are you afraid of me, girl?" her response was more a pained mumble than anything else. A small smile sprung to his face. "Your brother offered me little to no resistance. Breaking him had proved far too easy. I wonder...will you be any different?"

Prince Lucas turned his hardened eyes to his father. "Now isn't the time, father."

Ignoring his son, he softly touched the princess' cheek. "Let's see how well your father prepared you for the world."

---

If Edgar's decision had not been difficult enough, watching the terror and disgust on his wife's face before she fled from him had made it even more unbearable. He tried so hard to explain to her the situation that forced his hand, but she started hitting him and screaming. Screaming loudly enough for staff to come see what the issue was. Loud enough that it drove a knife through his heart. And then she was gone.

A day had gone by since, and she still did not see him, nor allow him near. She even prevented him from entering their son's chambers. He didn't wish to provoke her any further, so he stayed away. On the morning of the third day, however, Benjamin had come to see him. He brought news of his brother waking up, and that Terra requested his presence.

As they walked down the halls—and at a slow pace, on Edgar's push—he looked over at his son. "How does she seem?"

Benjamin understood the truer question. "She seems calm enough to allow you in the room." he offered quietly. "Ever since Emma came to live with us, I have seen a side of mother's temper I had never seen before."

Edgar knew it was true. Emma had inherited that temper, though it seemed more easily flamed and vaster. It was as if a cavern laid deep inside his daughter, full of shame, fear and anger. One that Edgar wasn't able to fill, nor his wife. "Your mother has had to deal with tremendous amount of stress...you do not understand how it has hurt her to go after your sister's every step, to monitor her so closely. All at the same time knowing you had lost years of your daughter's life."

"I understand it has been difficult, I am just..." he thought for it for a second. "surprised."

"Your mother faced prejudice when she came to Figaro to be with me," Edgar explained. "She had to deal with the snickers of women, the foul rumors of men and general disgust among some of the lords and ladies. There was a time when she couldn't even walk the streets without being targeted, in one way or another."

Benjamin looked at him, clearly surprised to hear that. "What? I...I never knew."

"She didn't wish for you and your brother to know, so we said nothing. The experience left her in a constant fear for her daughter, though I am partly to blame. I...I had filled her head with an even greater fear the moment Emma was born."

"You were right to worry though," Ben said. "After everything mother went through." he shook his head. "I...I did things to Emma father, said things...things I never should have, hurtful things."

Edgar looked at him, stopping to grab him by the shoulder. "I know..." nothing will ever surpass what I have done to her. "If I know your sister...she still loves you. Through the pain and anger, she knows you were not in your right mind, that you are earnest in your feelings now." he patted him before continuing on. "Just be sure to recognize your mistakes and leave them in the past, only then will moving forward be possible."

Benjamin followed him, quick on his feet. "What about you father?"

"What about me?" he asked.

"Will you follow your own advice?"

By then they had arrived at the chamber where Cambyses had been tucked away in, and Edgar used it to avoid the question. There was redemption for many, for many situations, but there were some things that never deserved forgiveness. Benjamin seemed to catch on that it was not something that Edgar wished to talk about, so he went ahead, opening the door for his father.

Edgar waited patiently outside, listening, but could hear nothing. For a minute nothing happened, but then his son came back out, frowning just a bit. "Camb wishes to see you, with mother."

"This isn't something your mother should hear, son."

"I think that is up to mother, isn't it? Besides, Cambyses wants to speak with you both."

Edgar took a deep breath and proceeded into the room, nervous. He suspected his son would scream at him for what he did, but he could not blame him should that happen. Inside, his wife sat beside their son, head held high, away from him. She looked annoyed. Cambyses was sitting up straight, against the back board to the bed. He looked even worse awake, somehow. The bandage around his chest had been replaced with something thicker, and now he had a wrap around his head, which was stained with blood.

He breathed hard upon the sight. His children were suffering for his mistakes. "Cambyses, son..." he stopped at the end of the bed, ashamed. "It is so good to see you awake, m'boy."

Cambyses focused his eyes on him, making the bruises seem darker. "Father...mother filled me in on what you did." of course she did. He had no idea why he suspected she would not. "I...I understand you did what you thought was the best decision, but you do not understand the position you put her in—the position you put us all in."

"I know what I have done Cambyses," he all but snapped. "I have to live with my decision, with my mistakes, until the day that I die."

"No, father, I..." he hesitated. "You had no way of knowing what Brud did...it isn't why I brought you here." he looked at his mother and reached, painfully, for her hand. "If you do not wish to hear this, you should step outside mother."

She set her eyes firmly on her son. "I will be fine."

Cambyses turned his eyes and then freed his hand. Edgar could see the pain in them, the fear. "You speak of forgiveness father, as if you cannot ever receive it from Emma, but the truth is that I stand in a position that could never grant me that redemption. For years I tormented her, and...and for what?" there were tears in his eyes. "All because I hated her..."

Terra let her tears fall. "No, no you didn't."

"I did," he admitted softly. "I hated her, and all because...all because she was all you and father could think of."

"Cambyses, son—"

"Let me finish, please," he asked his father, before continuing. "I was so angry all of the time. Every day mother's mind would be on Emma, and you...gods father, you were so smitten with her you were talking people's ears off about her constantly. I hated her because I thought you and mother loved her more than me and Ben." Benjamin shook his head, but said nothing. "I couldn't stand all of the attention she was getting...that I thought she was getting. I thought she was spoiled. She was buried in gifts and letters, and got to spend years with the likes of Gau and Relm. I didn't even think she deserved it, not the gifts or attention...not Relm and Gau." his tears finally began to run down his cheeks. He sniffed. "I wanted her to disappear, gone however I could have it, so that I could have my family back."

Edgar immediately recalled the many times back at Thamasa were he tried to drill that feeling out of him, to show him that their love was not more or less for one another, but it had fallen on deaf ears.

"I never even realized what the gifts and all of that time on Thamasa truly meant to her. What every letter that arrived told beyond its words...she had no mother or father to hold her or share with her. She was in constant reminder of just how alone she was. She had endless isolation from not only the world, but from her own family. I didn't see it, I didn't want to...not until you and mother made me pick her up during her schooling. I realized then I didn't hate her, or rather...my hate had been misplaced unjustly on her. I realize now my anger, my hate, should have been solely on me, rather than you two or Emma."

"At us?" Terra asked, astonished. "But...but why?" Edgar knew why. It hurt him to realize those minor suspicions were true.

"Do you have to ask, truly?" he furrowed his brows at his mother and then shook his head. "You sent her away. Ben and I never had a chance to know her—our sister! It was because she wasn't around that we fostered our jealousy and anger..."

Terra's tears burned in her eyes. "We were just trying to protect her, Camb."

Frustrated, Cambyses banged his head against the back board. "I know that mother. I...I'm just trying to explain why we—why I—treated her the way that I did. It isn't her fault and it isn't your fault. You were dealt a difficult hand in deciding what to do for her, but it didn't mean it didn't have an impact on the rest of us. It was childish of me, and ignorant, I know..."

"Why are you bringing this up, now of all times?" Edgar asked gently, worried.

Cambyses hid his tears from them. "I want you to know that what I did...it wasn't because I hated her, despite everything."

"We understand that—"

"No, father, I'm not talking about the past anymore."

Terra gripped his hand. "That is enough. You can tell us when you are rested, when you are well."

He tore his hand away. "No, you...you don't understand!" his tears ran quietly. "I...I betrayed her." he rubbed the tears from his eyes. "I'm so sorry."

Edgar began to feel sick. "How did you betray her?"

Cambyses looked him in the eye. "Bertrand...I...I told him everything."

Terra's eyes widened and she let his hand go. "What—what do you mean?"

Edgar understood what he meant now, but he prayed he was wrong. "About your sister?" Terra looked at him sharply, confused, until it finally became clear. All of the color drained from her face and then she was on her feet, fleeing the room.

Cambyses' sob was broken. "Yes...I'm so sorry father. I let her down. I let you down."

Edgar fumbled for a chair, trembling. "Gods..."

---

All that Alexander knew from the king's return was just that—he had returned. When the news reached him, he raced to the castle as fast as he could. There was a whole slew of soldiers guarding the entrance though, and not a single one of them permitted him entry. Not even the ones that knew him.

"You don't understand," he told the corporal at the gate. "I need to get inside the castle!"

"I'm sorry, but entry is strictly forbidden by command of the king."`

"I was told to return here whenever the king arrived, by your queen! Let me through!"

The corporal glared at him, unmoving. "I said no unauthorized entry. Now you can escort yourself off the premise or I can have my men escort you."

Alexander's temper flared and he grabbed the man by the collar of his shirt and shoved him against the door. "You will let me through or so help me I will run you through this fucking door!"

"Enough!" a sharp voiced called out from above. Alexander let the corporal go and stepped back to see who it was. Leaning over the crenellated parapets was captain Wren, and looking completely annoyed. "What the hell are you doing?!"

"Tell the queen that I am here! She will let me through!"

"No, I do not think she would," Wren snapped back at him. "There is a reason entry has been forbidden. You do not matter, not right now."

"Just tell Terra that I am here!"

Wren scoffed and leaned out of view. It took only a few minutes for him to return in his view. "It is your lucky day...Lady Cadence is here and she has the authority to disallow or allow you through these gates."

Just then her face appeared over the wall, looking forlorn and tired. Alexander smiled in relief back at his friend. "Cadence, thank the gods. These fools will not let me through."

Cadence shook her head at him, weakly. "Alexander, now isn't the time for you to be here."

"What?" he asked. "Why not? What has happened?"

Without answering him, she leaned back. For a moment Alexander thought that she had left, but then the gates began to open and she stood at the other side. "Come with me Alex, and don't wander off or speak."

"But—"

"That is the only way I am permitting you in," she cut him off. "You may leave if that is not what you want."

Alexander ducked his head and followed her, quietly. The halls were emptied, and it was a strange sight. Very rarely had he seen such a thing. He knew it meant something serious. He wanted to ask Cadence but she did not stop moving.

Finally she stopped him outside the door to the study. She put her hand up and stopped from advancing through the doors. "Just wait here for a moment, I need to speak with them first."

He knew she would be checking in with Terra to see if he could be permitted into the castle, and possibly brought into the fold of what has happened. A long moment passed, and then another. The only thing he could hear was the vents in the hall. Finally she appeared in the door again, with a harder expression than before. "They will see you, but Alexander...do not press them too much." and then she opened the door, and he walked in.

Terra was sitting at the table, hands wrapped around a steaming cup of tea. Edgar was at the back wall, pacing. The queen looked up at him, and he saw the soft tears in her eyes, and the expression of loss. Fear started to root in his stomach. "Alexander...please, come sit down."

As he walked to an empty seat, Edgar stopped to look over at them. "I still do not understand why we are telling him."

To Alexander's surprise, Terra turned to her husband and told him to be quiet. The king's color drained and he complied, continuing his pacing. Once Alexander was seated, he asked, "What is going on?"

"Are you aware that Cambyses has been freed?" she asked him. When he shook his head, she continued. "I see...then I can at least take solace in the fact that the news hasn't spread yet."

Alexander asked, "Terra, I am happy your son is safe, but...where is Emma?"

The silence that followed his question was unnerving. Edgar had removed himself from their direct line of sight, and leaned against the book shelves. Terra, however, began to cry. "She's not here..."

Cadence had gone over to lay a hand on Terra and bring her into a hug. Alexander felt a fury mounting in him. "What the hell do you mean she's not here?" without an answer, he charged towards Edgar and turned him around, forcefully. "What happened to her?!"

Edgar couldn't even bring himself to remove the lad's hands. "It...it was the only way to save them both."

"What does that mean?" he asked. "Answer me, damn it!"

Cadence looked at him, with such a disappointed look. "Alex..." this can't be happening, he thought. "There...there was a trade."

"No," he said, feeling weak. "No...no..."

"It will be okay Alex, just breathe..." she reached for his shoulders and tried to settle him, but everything was crumbling around him. He wanted to puke. He tore free of her and went for the door. "Alexander, please! Let him explain why, let him—"

"Explain?!" Alexander howled, turning to face her. "Nothing that bastard could ever say could justify what he has done!"

Edgar faced him at last. "I do not need your absolution. I am aware of what I have done, but as horrible as it is...you could never understand a fraction of what I had to do. The situation I had been placed in!"

"What fucking situation could justify trading your daughter to the enemy?!"

"They were surrounded, and they had Cambyses at knife point and Emma—" Cadence explanation had been daftly cut off by the king.

"Let me, Cadence," he gently touched her shoulder, to show it was alright. She hesitantly took a seat as he went around the table, around his crying wife, to face Alexander. "I will never be able to forgive myself, nor earn the forgiveness for what I did from anyone else, especially my daughter...but you do not understand. I would do it again in a heart beat if it meant I had a chance, no matter how slim, that I would see her again."

"You decided your son was worth more to you than your daughter," he spat.

"No, I did not decide such a thing, but I see you think it is perfectly fine for me to value her more than my son." his response was tart and venomous. "Do not ever question the love I possess for my children, or you will be sorry."

"Love wouldn't send your daughter into the hands of those who raped her."

"Alexander...Bertrand had my son at sword point, and one of his agents had Emma. He threatened to have them both killed if I did not comply."

"You should have fought harder!" he cried. "You should have fought, for once, for your daughter! She was within your grasp, wasn't she? Instead of protecting your youngest, you sent her into the vipers' nest!"

"You do not understand," he said, very loudly. "Both of my children were at the edge of a sword! Even if I had decided to pick Emma over her brother, if I had tried to move for her, to protect her, he would have slit her throat!"

"You could have—"

"No!" he threw his hand through the air, his face red. "There was nothing I could do! I could have watched them both die, or I could have saved them both! You can disagree with that decision all you want, but you were not there, you will never understand the tremendous weight that was put on my shoulders!"

Alexander let that painful silence linger only for a moment. "You're right...I wasn't there. If I had been, I would have saved her. I would have killed you if I had to." and then he left them, slamming the door behind him and storming down the hall.

If this was the extent of their concern—of their love—for Emma, then he knew they would never move to rescue her. They were leaving her to rot in her new hell.

I will not rest until you are home safely. I swear it.

---

At the Roskovian king's order, they drew something over her head, something pitch black, and started to drag her someplace. The one named Durik had a gentler grip on her arm, but the other to her left gripped so hard it felt as if her bone would crack beneath it. The gag in her mouth hurt her, and the stone floor scrapped painfully against her knees. Tears burned in her eyes, but there was nothing she could do, not even cry.

Each second felt like an hour. Her heart began racing so fast it was difficult to breathe. This is just a dream, this is just a dream, this is just a dream. She screwed her eyes shut, panicking. Please gods, let me wake. This is just a dream, this is just a dream! Suddenly they stopped, and the two men dragging her let go. Her face hit the stone before she could even balance herself. She cried, muffled, and tried to lift herself but one of the soldiers placed his boot on her back and pressed her down to the stone, hard. To be sure she could not squirm away.

"Be still, you fool." It was Durik, whispering. "His grace is pissed enough with you, don't feed it any further."

"Bring her inside," the other said, his voice growing distant as he moved away. Emma felt Durik's hands, this time he took both her arms and began to drag her into the room. Her back stung against the bite of the floor.

"Mmmhf!"

"Quiet, girl!" the other snapped. Something metal clanged about a few times, and then he said, "I've got it, bring her over." for a brief moment she was lifted off the cold stone. For that reprieve, she couldn't didn't even feel embarrassment or fear for her nakedness. It did not last long though, that reprieve, for soon her back touched a smooth surface, as cold as ice. Her arms were forcefully brought up above her head, at an angle, and locked against the surface.

When she felt the hard grip of the other soldier touch her ankle and begin to move up her leg, she cried as loud as she could and started kicking. It caught the man in surprise, she thought, for her foot hit something that felt a lot like a nose.

"Fuck!" he howled.

"Leave it, Jesha." it was clear it was a warning.

"Leave it?" he snarled. "The bitch broke my nose!"

"It serves you right, the way you tried to handle her," he said back. "Be thankful his majesty didn't see you do that." that seemed to clear the growing hostile mood in the air, because the other soldier, Jesha, did not speak about it again. "Help me latch her in. If she's not secured before he arrives, it'll be us hanging off this thing."

This time, it seemed they learned their lesson, for they both took her ankles at once and began latching them under something that felt just like the ones around her wrists. She tried to resist them, but their strength was too great.

"Good. Go get the water and I'll—" Durik's voice cut off quickly as something creaked loudly from the other end of the room. Breathing hard, Emma tried to listen for what it was, but all she could make out were footsteps. It was even difficult to smell whoever it was, through the cover over her head. Everything smelled of onions.

Tearfully, she closed her eyes and listened.

"Your majesty," Jesha and Durik said, almost perfectly in unison. "We were just about to start, we only needed the—" there was a strange quiet really quickly. Then there was a gentle shuffle against stone as the foot steps grew closer to her. She knew it had to be the king.

Finally, he spoke. The nearness of him startled her. "Leave it for now." the loudness of her heart in her ears was painful. It felt like she couldn't breathe at all. He was standing to her left, almost so near she could feel him touching her arm. "Let us try a different approach first."

"As you say, your majesty." it was Durik.

"Remove her blinds." and at that, she saw the world flash brightly before her again. Standing in front of her, was Durik and Jesha; one with a blank look and the other with hard, angry eyes and a bleeding nose. To her left, standing taller than she recalled before, was the king of Roskovo. He focused his dark eyes on her, calmly. "There is no reason we cannot handle this like civilized folk." he said, crossing his arms behind him. "Remove the gag." Durik reached over and tore it from her mouth. She drew in a long but staggering breath and tasted blood were the gag had torn her lips. "Good. Now I see no reason to proceed here if you do as I say."

She couldn't look him in the eye. They were just like Lucas'. When she looked away from him, the king scoffed. "You are as disrespectful as I imagined you would be. It is of no matter though, soon you will be compliant. And compliance will be rewarded, girl." he stepped closer, until she could feel his breath on her face. "Look at me." she did not. "I will not ask you again."

When it was clear she would not, he stepped back and gestured to Durik. The man moved without any order, slapping her hard across the face. Her ears popped and her head rung, but to the annoyance of her captors, she did nothing more than cry. "You will look at me girl, be it after a dozen strikes or thousand. You will comply." he snapped his fingers, and Durik slapped her again. This time, she bit her tongue as her head hit the backboard. "Again." this time, there was enough force behind the hit that she lost consciousness.

When she woke again, it was because they splashed icy water against her face. She woke in a loud gasp, trembling. He took her face then and tried to look her in the eyes, but she closed them, half against fear and half against her tears. "You are a stubborn one, aren't you?" he released her face and stepped back. "I will tell you what...if you denounce Figaro and your family, here and now, all of this will stop." he waited only a second. "Well girl?"

Emma shook her head. "N-No...no..."

Bertrand's eyes narrowed. "There is that Figaro pride! That stubbornness!" he almost sounded happy she was defying him. He turned to his men. "Proceed."

Jesha went to a table at the far end of the room, and recovered something. She tried to focus on him, but her vision kept failing her. When he was near, the man said, "You should have done as he asked, girl." he reached for a lever at the side of the platform she was strung up to, and started to turn it. Slowly the platform started to descend back towards the floor first, until she hung at a severe angle towards the floor. And then she saw what he had. A large cloth. Before she could think, he placed it tight over her face.

"Durik," Jesha's voice was short, angry. Footsteps approached, almost hesitantly. "Go on now! Or do you want to switch jobs?" Emma could only barely make out their shapes through the cloth. And then it happened. Water started to splash against her lower face, very slowly. At first it was easy to move her head and miss most of the water, but within seconds she couldn't breathe and everything was burning. She twisted violently in place, trying to keep herself from breathing in the water but her body kept betraying her as the tightness in her chest seared.

After a moment, the water stopped and the cloth was removed. She saw Durik and Jesha standing around her, but couldn't hear any of what they were saying. Her vision started to blacken as Bertrand came into view, smiling.

"What about now? Will you abandon that foolish pride of yours or must we continue?"

Unable to answer, and though very thankful for it, Emma closed her eyes. Bertrand, clearly annoyed, stepped back. "Again." when the cloth was replaced and the water flowed over her face, she reached for the peaceful release waiting just around the corner, but it seemed her torturers knew her limits. The water stopped and the cloth was promptly removed, allowing her to cough and breathe raggedly.

Again Bertrand appeared before her, smiling. "You are a very tough one, aren't you?" he reached to brush wet hair from her face. "Do you know how easy it was to break your brother on this machine? Of course we had utilized it for something a bit different then, he was sobbing like a little child within the hour."

Shut up, she thought, closing her eyes against the new tears. Shut up.

"Do you know what he told me, after the final break?" he knelt over, so that he was closer to her ear. "That you have a fear of drowning, of water."

Through a rough voice, she said, "You're...you're lying."

Bertrand laughed. "Oh, it is sweet how you believe in him so, but he most certainly did. That is how we got this lovely little idea." as he said it, he gestured around the room. "In fact, he gave me so many wondrous ideas. Once we are through here...I should think you have plenty to look forward."

"Shut up," she cried. "Camb...would never!"

"He wouldn't, would he?" he sighed. "Well I suppose I wouldn't know that you nearly drowned when you were eight, would I?" she was horrified. "How, then, would I know that you are terrified of confined spaces, of the dark? My favorite story, perhaps, was the one that told me what kind of girl you are." he drew so near she could feel his breath on her face when he knelt again. He placed his lips near her ear. "I can't wait to see that." he stood and backed away. "Continue."

Emma shouted, though the rest of it was muffled when Jesha placed the cloth over her face. And then the water started to pour, this time so much slower. She thrashed about wildly, but her restraints held her in place, and soon enough she was out.

•••••••••••

When Emma woke next, it was from the pressure of something hot being placed across her forehead. She was barely able to open her eyes. In the haze, she saw a woman standing beside her. Out of it, and in pain, she mumbled, "M-mother?"

The shape drew closer and Emma felt gentle, warm fingers on her cheek. "No, my dear girl, I am not your mother."

No, that was right. Her mother was safely thousands of miles away in Figaro Castle, out of reach. When her tears came, she turned her head away from the stranger. The woman gently took her hand. "You are safe now, I promise." Emma turned to look at the woman. A rounded face with dimples and freckles was smiling at her, with big blue eyes. She looked so young, too, barely over her thirties. In a way, the woman reminded Emma of the warm summer breeze. "Oh, where was my head...you must be hungry." she reached to help Emma up, and even that was soft, careful.

Emma, startled under the new light, could see bruises and scraps across her arms. Every one of them hurt far worse than what they looked like. The woman caught her staring and frowned. "You were out for a bit and they just..." she took a breath. "Well, it is over, for now." she stood and walked around the bed. Emma took the chance to look around the room. It was large, and circular. The walls were bare, except at each side of the door were giant rug-like curtains hung. The room's only window stood five feet off the floor, and held no glass. It explained the chill in the room.

Emma had never really seen a room like it, and she was thankful to not be in the dungeon cells.

"Oh, I almost forgot," the woman said, causing Emma to look at her. She held a tray in her hands. "I am Sherra de Louise..." she hesitated. "Sherra Macon."

It took her a second to make the connection, but when she did, she shrunk into the bed, as if to get away from her. Sherra noticed, and shook her head. "Yes, I am his wife...but please understand, I am not here to hurt you and I never will." Emma couldn't believe that. "It has been years in the making, this meeting." she said it so solemnly. "but I am glad I have finally gotten the chance to meet you, despite it all."

"W...what do you m-mean?"

"Well, you see...about ten years ago? Yes I think that was it...well a gentlemen came to the United Islands of Albrook when we were stopped there, for supplies. He was a good soul...showed us images of his kids and his wife, and even of you."

That startled her. "Me?"

"Yes...now what was his name." she thought for a long moment, and then smiled. "Jashiabi I think."

Confused, she asked, "Gabbiani?"

"Yes, that's right!" she giggled and sat the tray down on the bed. "He wouldn't stop about his kids...adorable, really."

Why—why would Setzer have a picture of me? Why would he share it with strangers... Emma didn't understand a thing! Why was the king of Roskovo so hell bent on hurting her? Why were his sons? She rubbed the tears in her eyes away, but stubbornly they came back quickly.

"It is okay to cry here, sweety." the woman sat beside her. "While you are behind these walls, you are safe." she reached for the tray and uncovered the top. "For now though, I think you should get your energy back. I have prepared a few things for you, though if it won't do I will gladly find what does."

Emma looked at the bowl full of rice and something she hoped was meat, and felt those hunger pangs come back full force. "Is—is it really okay?"

Sherra's smile grew. "Of course it is. And here, so you know it is safe." she took a bite of the rice and then sipped at the drink. "See?"

Hesitantly, Emma reached for the spoon and took a bite. The taste was rather plain, but the near starvation made it so it tasted amazing. She finished the food in almost a minute, alarming the woman. "You should slow down, or you will make yourself sick." she handed over the cup of water. "Here, drink this, and slowly." Emma sipped long at the cup, but very slow. "See...that is better, isn't it?"

Emma handed the cup back over and went flush. "C-can...may I have more please?"

Sherra giggled. "Of course." she went back to a roller tray and came back with another bowl of the rice. When she handed it over, she retook her seat. "Princess, I just wanted to apologize."

Emma looked at her, spoon still in her mouth. "F-for what?"

Sherra shook her head, as if she could brush away whatever it was she was thinking of. "For what my sons, and my husband, have done to you." Emma's eyes widened. "I know that my apologies will never make it right, I just wanted you to know that...that I would never condone it."

She knew it wasn't this woman's fault, that the horrors she had been through and would, undoubtedly go through, was the responsibility of those who had put her through it. "I...I understand."

The kindly woman smiled. "That is such a relief, thank you Emma."

Interrupting them, the door flew open and smashed against the door. Bertrand charged in, face red. The second Emma saw him, she stiffened and dropped her bowl, spilling food everywhere. When he caught sight of her, his eyes narrowed on her and a smile appeared.

"When I said to tend to the whore, I did not expect you to take it so diligently."

"You left me no choice," her voice was firm, unyielding. "To treat a child like this...I thought you were better than this."

Bertrand cackled, very loudly. "You think she is a child?" he gestured to her. "You are more fool than I thought you were." he began to walk towards the bed, and Emma drew herself back, shutting her eyes. "Look at her...what part of this beast do you think resembles us? Resembles a child?" he shook his head. "If you want to pretend, I will permit it, but I will not fall to your fancies."

"I wouldn't even be here helping her if you and your son would understand restraint!"

He stepped up to her face, threateningly. "You do not get to speak about our children, not after you killed the last one." Emma was astonished when Sherra slapped him hard across the face. It stunned him, and rather than back down and cower, Sherra stood her ground.

"How dare you!" she shoved at him. "Where were you when I was pregnant? Where were you when I nearly bleed to death?" she shoved him again, nearly off his balance. "You didn't even attend his funeral!"

Bertrand grabbed her wrists and forced them down. "You ignorant woman...the next time that you raise your hands to me it will be your last!" at last, he turned and caught Emma gaping fearfully at him. That instance she cringed and looked away. He charged over and took her by the chin to force her to look at him. "As for you...!" he reached for her throat next and squeezed. "You are only permitted to look me in the eye when I have commanded it!"

"Bertrand, stop!" Sherra tried to pry him off of her, but he shoved her back. "Bertrand, please!"

Finally he let her go. "You will learn your place, girl, or I will have it beaten into every inch of your body." he turned with a wide sweep of his cloak to face his wife. "See to it that you head to the solar immediately when you are done here." and then he left the women be.

---

It had only been a few days, and yet it felt as if a year had gone by. So much had been done since he woke up, so much had been said, and it still felt like it was only the beginning. Cambyses understood the journey ahead for redemption was a long road, especially if he wished for that road to lead to his little sister, but he had to walk it.

I cannot face her if I have not changed the way this country operates...how it sees her. He leaned his head back, into the pillowed backboard. I have to get out of this damn bed. He threw the sheets aside and twisted his legs over to the edge of the bed. His ribs began to burn from the movement, and the injury to his left shoulder began to radiate pain throughout his entire arm and chest. Come on...this is nothing. His feet touched the cool surface of the floor and it strangely gave him comfort.

The first step forward hurt the most, but he adjusted himself to his weakness and started for the long robe hung over the end of the bed. He drew it on, carefully, and then went for the door.

The halls were almost empty, except at the ends where half a dozen men were posted. Cambyses could only assume for his safety. It filled him with bitterness and anger. He went for the nearest stair to his left and stopped as the soldiers approached.

"Prince Cambyses...you are up." he bowed. "It is a blessing."

"It is good to be up and about," he mumbled. "I need to talk to my parents, so if you would move aside?"

They parted way immediately, but one of them lingered. "Of course my prince, but I must offer to join you. You are still very weak from your activity in Roskovo. It would be my honor to accompany you."

Activity? He thought on it. Was he purposely avoiding the truth, that he had been tortured? Certainly that was common information around the castle by now, for nothing stayed secret for long. A bit annoyed, he shooed them aside. "No, that will be all. I can find my way to my parents just fine."

The man bowed. "As you say, your grace."

Cambyses started for the stairs, knowing full well the soldiers were still watching.

It took him some time to navigate the castle with his injuries, especially if he needed to lift his legs higher than a step, but eventually he found his uncle. As he walked by a balcony, he could see him out in the courtyard, meditating. Cambyses joined him.

His uncle, without turning to him, said, "Cambyses...you should be resting."

"I have rested enough," he told him as he came to sit beside his uncle. "I needed some fresh air."

Sabin smiled, though his eyes were still closed. "I can't fault you for that." he took a deep breath and finally opened his eyes. "But I can sense that isn't your only reason for leaving your room."

Cambyses smiled. "No...you're right, it isn't. I need to speak with father."

"I see," he left his meditation pose. "These days he spends them in the war room with Suon and Hals, and if not there, with your mother." he then asked, "Why do you need to see him?"

Cambyses exhaled, sharply, and shook his head. "I can't sit here doing nothing, knowing where she is...what she could be subjected to. All because of me."

His uncle reached over to touch his shoulder. "Cambyses...you must learn to admit your mistakes and that they happen, and move on." he let him go and looked up towards the sky. "Regardless...it was not your fault for what happened to your sister."

"It is," he insisted hotly. "If I had stayed here or I was stronger, I would not have been captured. If I had not been captured, I wouldn't have told Bertrand a thing about her. And...and father wouldn't have to decide which life to save." he felt his tears roll down his cheeks. "I have ruined everything...how could I ever face mother and father? Or Emma?" he rubbed stubbornly at his tears. "I was so stupid...I ran forward following my pride and now all I feel is shame."

Sabin looked at him, squarely. "Pride has never been the opposite of shame nephew, but its source. If you truly seek the antidote to your shame, you must look inward and forgive yourself, and be humble enough to know who and what you are."

Cambyses said, "You and your wisdom, uncle." but he smiled. "I appreciate it, but I know my path sits before me, dark and unforgiving, and I deserve it."

"There is forgiveness for everyone, Cambyses, you only need to accept it."

Before he could answer his uncle, his mother's sharp voice cut him off.

"Cambyses?!" he turned a bit to look behind them, and saw his mother standing on the balcony, face contorted in worry and anger. And then she stormed out of view, presumably to enter the courtyard.

Sabin laughed. "It looks like you got busted."

"What in heavens are you doing?!" she cried as she came over. When she drew near, he could see the fatigue and anger across her face. He got up to face her. "You have only been in bed for three days! Do you wish to aggravate your injuries?"

"I just needed to talk to you and father."

"You are so foolish, just like your father!" she grabbed him by the arm. "You are going back to your room to rest."

Cambyses shrugged her off him. "No, mother. I am not." her round, surprised eyes almost phased him but he held firm. "I am not a child any longer mother. I know you are just worried about me, but you needn't be. Please...take me to father."

Terra's eyes held his for just a moment before she caved and looked at Sabin. "You filled his head with this nonsense, didn't you?" he shrugged, laughing. "Fine, I will take you to your father but after I will drag you back to your bed if I must!" she started off quickly. Cambyses thanked his uncle for the talk once more before hurrying after her.

To his surprise, his mother didn't lead him to the war room or the study, but to the gardens. Cambyses knew it was the very garden Emma had preferred, that she cherished so much. It made it all even more painful. Sitting on a stone bench, beneath the shade of a desert willow, was his father.

He held something in his hands, which when he saw them approaching, quickly hid it in his jacket. He rose to greet them, but there was no happiness in his eyes. "Cambyses, son...what are you doing up?" he reached for him, only to stop and look at his wife. "Why is he out of bed?"

Terra's eyes blazed with anger. "I didn't make him leave his bed, if that is what you mean."

Edgar frowned. "No, of course not, I just..." he sighed. "I'm sorry Terra, I didn't mean anything by it." she crossed her arms and looked away.

"Enough you two," Cambyses cut their fight short. "I'm here because I wanted to talk to you about something." he found a spot on the bench, relieved to have weight off of him. "It is about the council."

Edgar glanced at his wife before seating himself. Terra remained standing, defiant and angry. "what about the council?"

"I know you have already begun to remove them from power, but I want to help you solidify their removal. I do not want a piece of their power to remain behind, to be exploited."

"You will let me worry about them," his father said. "It is a matter of time, but soon they will be removed entirely."

"I am ready to help," he insisted. "Please, allow me to help."

Edgar was quiet for a moment. "I think it would be better if your mother and I continued to handle it alone."

Terra finally spoke, "Cambyses, it isn't that we do not want your help, it is that...we just can't risk it."

"Risk it?" he repeated, confused. "What do you mean?"

"We need the council removed when your sister comes home, so that she is safe," Edgar explained. "And you have been, justly so, weakened both physically and mentally by your ordeals."

Realizing what they meant, he got up. "You think I would mess something up, don't you?"

Terra frowned. "You haven't been well since you came home, Cambyses, you just need more rest."

He knew they didn't mean anything by it, but it still stung to hear the words. He looked at them. "Am I really so different?"

Terra's eyes misted gently with tears. "You are just a little lost, that's all, but you will be back, I know it."

"Please," he got to his knees, startling them both as he bowed his head to the ground. "Please give me a chance to help you. I have to do this...I need to. I cannot explain it, but I must do something to help here, to help restore my sister's safety for when she comes home. Anything...please give me a chance."

His mother knelt to bring him into a hug. Edgar looked skyward, trying to hide his tears. "Fine...you may join our efforts."

---

The next morning Emma was awoken by the woman, Sherra. She had set up a table beside the bed, topped with all sorts of foods, though nothing extravagant. Emma shifted up, slow, as each part of her body hurt and her breathing proved to be just as painful.

She rubbed at her eyes. "What...what is this?"

Sherra glanced up briefly from a bowl she was stirring. "What do you mean? This is your morning sup." she held out a bowl, and rather than rice and meat, the inside was porridge with mixed fruits. Emma accepted the bowl with uncertainty, still unsure of this stranger's generosity. When she started to eat, albeit slowly, Sherra said, "After you have finished eating, I can take you to the washing room."

Emma looked at her strangely. It sounded familiar. "W-washing room?"

The woman laughed, deepening her dimples. "It is what we call our rest rooms, dear, where you wash and..." she stopped herself with a little nervous giggle.

Curiously, Emma asked, "Is it like the public bath houses of the Veldt?"

"Well, purpose wise, yes. We do not make them public though and we only use them to wash ourselves."

A nice hot bath did sound wonderful. Emma ate very cheerily. Sherra observed her quietly, sipping at her tea as she waited. When she was done, Sherra rose to clear away the dishes. "Careful, I do not want to risk you hurting yourself."

When Emma's feet touched the floor, she cringed and nearly toppled into the woman's arms. She hadn't expected the burning pain in her legs, she didn't even know they had hurt her like that. Her fingers twisted into the woman's blouse as the woman tried to steady her. "Easy now, sweet thing, you mustn't exert yourself too much."

"I'm s-s-sorry."

Sherra guided her towards a door at the other side of the room. "There is nothing to apologize for, Emma." she opened the door and helped her in. "You will feel much better after a long soak."

The inside of the washing room was strange. It was rectangular and very small. At the end of the room, cut into the floor, was the basin. Along the walls were long wooden boards Emma could only assume was for sitting. Nearest to the doors, on each side, was a large open shelf with towels and washing materials. The floor was stone and etched into it were strange patterns, and to Emma, it almost looked like cuneiform.

The woman led her to one of the benches before she went to check the water in the basin. She smiled and came back over. "It is done, come." when they were near the basin, Emma was puzzled. It was unlike any she had seen. It was deep, and had some sort of layering system. Multiple holes surrounding the rim gushed more water in, while older water cycled through the bottom, where a hole remained. "Here we are. Now we just have to get you out of...this," she lifted Emma's shirt, which had been dirtied and torn since her arrival.

Emma blushed. She hated being in this state, and to have someone point it out embarrassed her so much. "Lift your arms, there, like that." the fabric rubbed over her bruises, and she flinched. "There, done with that." She threw the shirt into a basket at the end of the nearest bench and said, "Now...everything else." she waited a second before asking, "Will you need help with the rest?"

Emma knew she would probably need her help, but she at least wanted to try. To avoid even a fringe of further embarrassment. She managed to undress herself, but she had nearly fallen twice.

Sherra helped her into the water then. The instant Emma sunk her feet into the water, she gave a sharp cry and turned to latch onto the woman. "Gods, what is wrong?"

"C-c-cold," she managed.

"What?" Sherra stuck her hand into the water. To her, it felt unbearably hot. "It is perfectly hot, too much so even."

"P-please, let me out," she mumbled, almost through a cry. Sherra sighed and helped her out of the water. When she noticed the girl was shivering, she crossed her arms.

"I don't understand it, but I'll warm it up. Just give me a moment." she went to the levers at the side of the basin, and pushed one of them half way down. The water stopped flowing for a moment before rushing out again, steaming. "Gods help me if this hurts you..." she didn't dare to test the water afterward, only going by the steam. "Alright, let's try this again."

This time, when Emma felt the water, it was unbelievably comforting. She sunk into the water quickly and closed her eyes. The heat soothed her injuries so well. Grateful for the help, Emma then looked at the queen. "T-t-thank you."

Laughing, Sherra knelt beside the basin. "You don't have to thank me, I'm just astonished you can tolerate this." she looked worriedly at the water for a second. "You can, can't you?"

"It feels just f-fine to me," she mumbled. Sherra looked at her weird before reaching over to the washing materials and leaving them at the edge of the basin.

"Well then, I'll come check on you in ten." she stood. "Be safe." and then Emma was alone, to soak in the wonderful heat of the bath in quiet.

Sherra did not return when she said she would, but Emma hadn't minded one bit having extra time to bathe, but the minutes grew well into half an hour and the water was beginning to chill. Hoping maybe the woman was waiting in the room, she called out for her, afraid to speak any louder. Silence loomed. Emma looked around the room, and spotted where the towels were. Resolved, she carefully lifted herself up and out of the basin. The wind chilled the water dripping off of her. She shivered and moved carefully towards the shelf with the towels. Her legs protested with every step, but strangely she found moving them comforting to the sitting pain she felt.

Finally, she reached the shelf and tippy toed to grab one of the towels. When she felt the fabric, she pulled back and, surprised by the weight at her awkward angle, slipped back. Her back hit the stone, and towels began to rain down on her. She struggled through them. When she was through, she felt her fear vanishing into relief and then she laughed. It echoed strangely in the room, and when she heard it, she stopped laughing.

She took one of the towels and wrapped it around herself before burying her face into it. To hide her tears. There is nothing to laugh about, she told herself, growing furious.

A moment later Sherra entered the room. "Emma, I'm so sorry, I was held up with my..." she stopped when she saw Emma in the middle of the towels on the floor. "What happened?"

Emma knew her tears were just seconds from breaking. "I want to go home," she cried. "I want to go home."

Sherra knelt beside her and wrapped her arms around her. "I know sweet girl, I know." she held her close, letting her cry. "I know I am not your mother, or that this isn't home, but if you would let me...I could try to make it as much like home as I can."

•••••••••••

After dressing the exiled princess of Figaro into all that she had to spare at the moment—long male clothing from her eldest son's youth years—Sherra had left the girl under the window to soak in the sun. It was to her understanding she hadn't felt it since she was taken, and that itself seemed especially cruel.

With the girl resting, and distracted, Sherra took the time to head back to her husband. She had bumped into him earlier when she was looking to set up evening sup for the girl, it was why she had not returned when she said she would. Bertrand had demanded she come see him after she was done.

Now, standing outside of his solar, she was nervous. Her husband had seemed very upset, though for what she could not even begin to guess. She knocked gently three times, and was promptly brought in. Bertrand was sitting at a large table, eating from a dish of ribs and salad. Their eldest son was standing to the far side, arms crossed behind his back. His eyes were cold and distant.

"Have you finished tending to the girl?" he asked, without looking from his plate.

"Yes, Bertrand." she glanced at her son quickly. "What did you need from me?"

"Do not get short with me, woman," he sat aside his silverware and leaned back to look at her. "I want the girl brought to the southern basement in two hours."

Alarmed, she said, "She hasn't had nearly enough rest. Her injuries are extensive and—"

"You will bring the girl to the southern basement in the given time or I will see to it she never leaves it again. Do I make myself clear?" he kept his dark eyes on her. "Now go." he waved her aside and continued on his food. Sherra nearly shouted at him before she collected herself and began to leave the room.

Lucas followed her with long strides. She let it go until half way back to the princess before she stopped and wheeled around to face him. "Why are you following me Lucas? Do you not have something to attend to?"

"Where my business falls is of no concern to you."

She very much wished to slap him, but she withheld. "You, and everything that you do, is my business." her voice was short, and it was clear by the way that he resettled himself that he understood he was crossing a line. "Now tell me why you are following me."

"I do not intend to follow you," he replied, very scornfully. "It just so happens my business is where you are headed."

Understanding he meant Emma, Sherra drew herself back. "You heard your father. She is required in two hours."

"I heard him well enough," he frowned. "And he will have her in two hours."

Furious, and frightened for the girl, she turned and all but ran from her son. When she reached the room, she was half a breath from warning the princess who was approaching in a shout, but she stopped when she saw that the girl had fallen asleep in the sunlight, still sitting up. She hurried over and gently woke the girl from her slumber. She woke in a start and tried to shove Sherra away.

"Emma, Emma, it's me, it's me." the girl settled in her arms, breathing hard. "There we go, sweet girl." she brushed hair from her face, that looked almost platinum under the sunlight. "I didn't mean to startle you, but you have to get up now."

She rubbed at her eyes and allowed the woman to lift her to her feet. "D-did I do s-something wrong?"

"No, of course not, it is just..." she hesitated. "Lucas is headed this way."

The moment she said the young man's name, Emma went stiff and as pale as milk. "W-why? I didn't d-do anything!"

Before Sherra could explain, to tell her she hadn't ever done anything wrong, the doors opened and in came Lucas. Emma reached for Sherra and hid behind her as he approached. Sherra reached back to hold the girl's arm, to encourage her, as she stopped her son.

"Lucas, you have to go."

He stopped in front of his mother, and glared at her. "Remove yourself from this room."

"I am still your mother! You will listen to me!"

To answer her, he took her by the arm and dragged her towards the door. Sherra tried to fight him back, but he was strong like an ox. All the while Emma was frozen in spot, tears running down her face. "Let go of me right now!"

Lucas forcefully guided her out of the door and blocked it so she could not try to rush in. "You may linger out here in the halls if that's what you desire, but do not think to interrupt us." he slammed the door in her face.

Sherra pounded on the door. "Lucas! Lucas don't you dare hurt her! Lucas!" her banging went unanswered.

•••••••••••

Emma couldn't breathe. She reached blindly for something to hold herself up, but everything was off. What looked nearby was so far away. When she reached for it, she fell forward and landed hard on her knees. His shadow loomed over her a few seconds later, and stayed there. He was observing her. Flickers of memories, of the manor, flooded her. Tears swelled in her eyes and her heart ached terribly.

She could feel his closeness when he knelt. "Come now, you should not be on the floor like this." when his fingers wrapped around her forearm and yanked her up, she flinched from him. It was unintentional, she knew deep down it would infuriate him, but she could not help it. His eyes focused on her, and all she could gleam from a quick glance was that he looked confused. Her entire being stiffened. The tautness of her muscles began to hurt. What was this? What had she done to incur his wrath? She could taste the fear of what he intended, and couldn't stand to think of what he wanted to do that she couldn't even fathom.

And with a sudden yank, he was dragging her towards the bed. Her heart quaked in her chest painfully, and she tried to lurch backwards, to get away from him. He held on tighter but stopped to face her. "Why are you resisting me?" he asked, and the anger at the edges of it was very evident. "I have given you plenty of time to recuperate from father's thrashing." the tone indicated he expected some sort of thank you, or an apology, but all Emma could muster up was a cry. One so deep in misery that she near collapsed in his arms. "Stand up." he tried to put her on her feet, but the moment he touched her she pried away from him with a scream.

"No, no, no, please...please." her sobs made much of what she said difficult, but she had to pray for mercy—from him or the gods.

Clearly agitated now by her display, he turned her by force and pushed her onto the bed, back first.

•••••••••••

Her reaction had brought only confusion in him at first, but her resistance quickly grew tiresome to him. The instant he had done so, she tried to get back up, but he held her down by her shoulders. She squirmed so thoroughly beneath him it was hard to keep a grip.

"Stop! Stop!" she struggled to lift her arms beneath his grip, and instead began kicking her legs. "Stop!"

He was growing increasingly annoyed by her defiance. "Cease this foolishness right now!" but his words fell on deaf ears.

With a loud sob, she cried for Sherra and kicked high enough to hit him between the legs. He let her go and backed away with a loud cuss. He felt the pain up to his teeth. She had gotten up and went for the door, but with a quick leap he was on her. As the door opened all but an inch, his hand smashed into it and slammed it shut. It startled her and she flinched as she dropped to her knees.

He grabbed her by the arm and began dragging her back to the bed. "How dare you fight me so," his words came out almost like a hiss. "For all the attention I shower on you, this is how you choose to repay me?" he slung her back toward the bed. She collapsed at the edge of it and faced him like a cornered animal. He went to remove his belt. Before she could move again, to try to run from him, he whipped her with it. It lashed hot against her left arm and nicked her face. Her cries did not tremble his resolve. He whipped her again, and when she pathetically reached her arms up to protect herself, he lashed her again. The noise it made was oddly pleasant to his ears. He did it again and again, until her arm was raw and bleeding, and only then did he stop.

"You need to learn your place," he told her, lifting her by her arms. Emma was too disoriented from the pain to fight him with the ferocity he had seen in her back at the manor, or even half of what she had just a minute or two prior.

It was for the better, he had concluded, even if it distressed him to have to do it to her, to the girl who had captivated him the moment he had tasted her. After all, a woman needed a hard and swift hand to guide her. He had seen it work over and over again with his father and his concubines. Their willful and arrogant natures had vanished like sugar in water. They had come to obey him without order, and please him as he had demanded without nothing more than a look. He even saw, to an extent, the power of it in his mother, whenever his father would smack her. She would comply, even if it was with a bitter look and lack of emotion.

"Women should not be so willful!" he tossed her onto the bed. She gave a weakened cry as her whip torn flesh caught on the quilts. "You should be thankful," he told her as he hovered over her, to tug at her shirt. It didn't even cross his mind that she was dressed in his old clothes until he had the shirt bunched in his hands. At first he was stunned, but then anger built in his heart as he threw it aside. "These are fit only for men!" he took her by the throat and made her look at him, squeezing harder until she kept his glance. "If I see you dress like this again, I will not be pleased." he let her go, and she sputtered at the sudden ability to breathe again.

Without another word, he began to undress. When Emma finally saw she began to plea through her tears. "Please, please! I'm s-s-sorry, please...don't h-h-hurt me, please." he ignored her. When he was undressed completely, he reached for her oversized trousers. She resisted so much that when he caught her leg from kicking him him again and pinned it down, he actually hurt her. She screamed. "Keep still, damn it!"

Finally, he had enough. He clouted her once, twice, and then again and again. She cried with each hit, and on the sixth she laid trembling beneath him, breath shallow, pained. He puffed angrily, and went for her trousers again. There was absolutely no resistance; she was too limp and aching. When he had her undressed, he shifted her up the bed more and leaned against her, to nuzzle her neck with kisses. Her flesh was hot against his lips and intoxicating. He lavished her with all of the attention he had dreamed of since he had departed Figaro, feeling his loins tighten with each and every touch. He raced his mouth down from her neck, passed her collarbone, and then to her breasts. To his dismay there was no reaction from her, not even an attempt to move away, but it did little to quell his desires.

Moving further down, he let his lips, his tongue, sear across her stomach, down and down. When he reached the spot between her legs, she cried harder and tried to push him away. He felt her little fingers dig into his hair and the little force she could muster to push him back, but then a defeated sob wracked her and her arms, heavy and so pained, fell to her sides like noodles.

Her chest rose and fell in agony, sobs now broken and quiet. He lifted his lips back up her body, to her mouth. To his aggravation, she did not respond to his advances, but it made no matter to him right then. Sooner or later, she would come to understand. She would change, she just needed time, guidance. The sight of her, the feel of her, was burning a hole through his being. His urges began to ache, and he could bare it no longer. He reached down, blindly, to spread her legs.

With his lips still on hers, tongue lapping her lips and teeth digging into them, he positioned himself between her legs and with one quick and hard thrust, entered her. Emma cried and tried to inch away from him, digging fingers into the mattress for leverage, but his weight on her was too much. She couldn't move. He thrust harder, further, and quieted her cries with a kiss.

"So beautiful," his voice was hushed, worked, as he withdrew and penetrated again and again, each with more force. "My Emma, my beautiful Emma." he moaned hoarsely, wrapping one arm behind her to bring her closer to him. Her body wracked below him, but he did not stop. He kept going, feeling the tension gathering in his loins. Until at least, he thrust into her with one final moan of pleasure, spilling his seed. She gave a loud, agonized scream and then he collapsed onto her, spent, breathing raggedly. He could feel her stiff body beneath him, trembling.

He laid there, intoxicated by the experience, by the feel of her against him and the smell of her, until at last he withdrew himself from her. Tears ran down her cheeks, and blood spotted between her thighs, where fresh bruises had already begun to appear. He moved his eyes from her body and knelt for his clothing he had dropped at the foot of the bed.

When he was fully dressed, he stopped to look at her again. "Hopefully this has taught you a well needed lesson." and then he went for the door.

•••••••••••

Sherra knew better than to wait in the hall outside of the princess' new room. The fury that had brought upon her whenever she waited on her husband to be through taking one of his many unwilling concubines. She had made the mistake, as well, on waiting on her son to be done abusing other girls. She had wanted to make sure they were okay, feeling responsible that it was her son who had done such atrocious things, but he had snitched on her. And Bertrand had turned new fury to her.

For now her only option was to wait in her room, at the end of the hall in the same wing. Feeling useless, tired and afraid. It was different, still horrible, to see the other girls her husband and son abused, but she had grown familiar with the princess already. And it hurt so much to know what her son was doing to her.

It took only fifteen minutes, but the knock had resounded through her room. She hurried to the door, and was greeted by the solemn, long face of a soldier. "I thought you might wish to know the prince has left the girl."

Sherra took a deep breath, and then thanked the man for his help before she went for a little bag. Then she hurried down the hall, toward the princess' room. The door was, strangely, left open for all to see that might walk the halls. She could see Emma's limp form on the bed even from the doorway. She hurried in and closed the door, and then went for the girl.

Disgust gripped her heart. The poor girl laid naked on the bed, bruised and bleeding. Sherra sat the bag down and then reached to lift the girl's head. Sherra was met with a weak attempt to pull away, and then a quieted groan and a flutter of her eyes. "Oh sweety...I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry." she gently laid her head back down, and went to dig through her bag. She didn't have much of anything, nothing like what the professors and scientists had. There were only small remedies, things the old folk of times had, now often forgotten.

Desperately, she brought all that she had for pain and cleaning cuts. And then she brought out a small bottle of alcohol. "This will sting Emma, but I must clean your cuts." the girl did not respond. Sherra brushed a hand over her forehead before she carefully took her lacerated arm and stretched it out. "Gods, keep her still." she knew if Emma jerked her arm, it would be excruciatingly painful. And then, with a small prayer, she poured some of the alcohol over the wounds.

Emma jerked about, but settled into whimpers. "That's it, such a brave girl." she then carefully, with tender fingers, searched her body for any other serious injuries. It was her arm that was the worst, and she wasn't even sure if there was anything she could do to help the injury she sustained from the rape. She knew she had to try though, so she dabbed a piece of cloth into alcohol and carefully brushed it over the bruises and scraps. This did not provoke a reaction from her. It wasn't until she dug through her back for a jar of poultice and looked up that she finally knew why. The girl was unconscious, breathing more steadily but still so raggedly.

She sighed, and then began placing the poultice over her arm first. The coolness of it, Sherra thought, settled the girl's fitfulness. At least she hoped so. Quickly, Sherra wrapped a clean cloth around her arm and tied it to her arm with thick string. Once she was through there, she moved to her thighs. She applied plenty of the poultice and then wrapped a cloth around her thighs. This proved more awkward than the arm, but eventually Sherra had successfully tied it in place.

Strangely exhausted already, she stepped back, becoming very nervous when she looked at her own handiwork. It would have to do until she could speak with Bertrand, to convince him to send better, more educated help.

She will need something for the pain, she thought, and then reached for her bag. She only had willow bark and a few things of ginger root. "I will just use both," she thought aloud and desperately. She went to the door, and summoned a soldier. He was at the door very quickly.

"What do you require, my queen?"

"I need to boil some water, for some tea and cleaning, but..."

The soldier bowed, understanding. "Of course, it is an easy task. I will be back shortly." he bowed his head once more and then was off. Sherra took that time to tend further to the girl. Her lips were swollen, and she could see teeth marks in them and on her throat. Her son had been as violent as he could, she thought. She brought out another squared cloth, clean, and poured some alcohol onto it. She dabbed it against her lips and the torn skin on her face, and around the bruises already forming. The only thing the princess did was twitch.

"It must be cleaned," she told the unconscious girl. "You will feel better with it."

Then she stepped back, thinking. There wasn't anything else she could do. The girl, even though she was small and bonier than others her age, was still too heavy for Sherra to move. She would require help, help of which she dreaded. She couldn't even wake the girl to take her tea. So when the soldier returned with a tea set, complete with the heating box and some wood for it, she had an idea.

"Thank you. Could you set them on the table, right there? Yes, thank you."

He bowed. "It is my pleasure, my queen." she could tell he was purposely trying to avoid looking at the bed, and it was clear it was out of discomfort. He was not gaping, as many other would have in his place.

"Would you help me further, sir? I cannot left her..." Getting what she meant, his face paled, but he hesitantly walked over. "Thank you, this means so much to me. If you could lift her for a moment, yes, but be careful with her arm." he held her in a sort of cradle, letting her head rest against his chest. His eyes were wide and his mouth set in a stiff line. He was very, very uncomfortable.

Sherra quickly tore the quilt and sheets off the bed, and hurried to the chest to recover new ones. She made the bed quickly, keeping the quilt folded at the end of the bed. She indicated for him to set her down, and he did so, very gently, cautious of her injuries. Emma's brows furrowed in displeasure, but she settled.

"Good, good." she put it out of her head to ask if he could hold her up so Sherra could dress her. It probably wasn't the best idea to strangle the child's arm with any sort of clothing. Besides, it would also be very difficult to get them off to tend to her injuries. It was decided. She reached for the quilt, and covered Emma up to her breasts, making sure her arm rested above the blanket.

"Is that all that you require of me, your grace?"

He wanted out of the room, and quickly. She nodded. "Yes, that will be all. Thank you sir, you have helped beyond words." he looked at her squarely for a moment, before turning and leaving the room.

When she was alone, she went to set up the tea set. She placed the wood into the center of the metal box, placed the grate over it and lit it. It took a minute or two for the flames to really kick in, and when it did, she hefted the pot of water onto grill and waited for it to boil. Next, she peeled the ginger root and then diced them into small chunks. She removed the pot from the heat when it began to boil, and then she dropped in the ginger root slices and waited patiently for the yellow tint to appear in the water.

She wasn't sure if the girl would drink it, many people could not stand the taste, so she mixed in some lemon juice and a bit of honey, and stirred. The smell was gentle, but it was a relaxing aroma. By this time, nearly half an hour had gone by. She needed Emma to take her medicinal tea. Reluctantly she went over to wake the girl, first setting aside the mug of tea.

Emma woke in a start, lurching forward, which only hurt her arm. She gave a painful cry and fell back into the bed, shuddering. Sherra soothed her out of her episode, with warm words and gentle touches. "Easy Emma, please, you must calm down." finally, the girl settled, though tears ran down her cheeks. "Here, I need you to drink this." she tried to press the cup to the girl's lips, but she turned her head away with a groan. "Please, you must. It will help with your pain, and help with the inflammation." she pressed it to her lips again, but this time Emma turned away so violently that Sherra almost spilled the liquid on her.

"Emma!" she gasped, astonished by the resistance to such a simple thing. "Please, I'm not trying to hurt you, I'm trying to help." she took a sip of the tea first, watching the fear in the girl's swollen eyes begin to fade to unease. It made perfect sense for the poor girl to be so afraid. It was half Sherra's fault this had happened. It was her son, after all. Finally, when she pressed the cup to her lips, the girl drank. And to Sherra's amazement, she had drunken it all very quickly.

Just as quickly as she had drunk the tea, she was asleep, and looking to be in better spirits than before. Sherra was certain of course the girl would need a long recovery, and to be given that, Sherra had to talk to her husband. But she was frightened by the idea of leaving the girl alone.

I must, she realized sadly. She leaned over to bring the quilt back up and then hurried out of the room. She stopped a guard walking by. "Sir, would you guard this room for me until I return?" He looked anxious about it. She explained. "You must keep my son from entering the room. Incite my power, if you must, but you cannot allow him to enter this room." she knew it was asking too much. Most men would never go out of their way to upset the king or prince, but she had to hope.

He glanced away, wishing clearly to flee, but sighed. "Aye...if it pleases her grace, I will do as she requests."

Sherra thanked him with a kiss on the cheek and lifted the ends of her dress so that she could run more freely. When she arrived at the solar, her husband was beginning to leave. She stopped in the doorway, to prevent him from leaving.

"Bertrand..." she was a little out of breath, and that annoyed him. "I...I need to speak with you."

His eyes darkened. "If this is about that wench, do not bother." he tried to push passed her, but she held him back the best she could. She needed him to hear, to understand! "Do you wish to irritate me?"

"No, no, I just need to talk to you." she let him go. "Please Bertrand...call off the schedule for today."

"And why would I do that?" he snarled.

"Your...our son, he—he just..." she found it a struggle to say it, to describe what their child had done, even if Bertrand himself had just as horrific plans. "She's in no condition to withstand w-whatever you have planned now."

His brows furrowed at her, and she knew he was just seconds from slapping her. "Is that so?" the faintest of smiles cracked his face. "Lead me to the girl, I will judge it for myself."

A terrible idea sprouted in her mind as she led him back to the girl's room. Would he really decide on her condition, or was he planning something? She felt sick to her stomach. Please gods...do not let him be that far gone. Let him stay his hand. And then they were there, and the guard spotted them. He drew himself away from the door and bowed as they approached.

Bertrand moved passed him without a word or a look of recognition, and opened the room to the room. Sherra hovered frightfully behind him. "She's asleep," she told her husband as they neared, as quietly as she dared speak to him. His eyes burned on the girl, but she could not make out any of his intentions. He drew closer and tugged the blanket down, to see what drew his wife into such worry.

His eyes ran over her arm first, but there was nothing in his expression. He leaned back and crossed his arms. "Lucas did this?"

Still expecting something around the bend, she said, "Yes, Bertrand."

"And he took her too, yes?" Not understanding where this was going, she nodded when he faced her. "Good, at least he's done one thing right." he went for the door. "Fine, I shall postpone, and I will be sure he understands that this sort of punishment is reserved for me to decide, not him." although it meant Lucas could not only beat her so horribly, Sherra could not find much relief in it knowing Bertrand had crowned himself the only doer in this atrocity.

When his eyes glared toward her, she fumbled over what to say. Then she realized what she hadn't done yet. She bowed her head just a bit. "Thank you Bertrand...thank you." and with that, he was gone, leaving the door open. She heaved a heavy sign and went to the door, to see if he had really gone. He was already half way down the hall. The soldier was still standing there, looking drained.

"Thank you sir, your help was invaluable."

He started, and then bowed his head. "Of course, you are my queen."

"Would you mind keeping watch over her until she is better? I need help at deterring my son away, even if Bertrand decided to actually stop him." Lucas was, after all, his father's son. He would not take lightly to being told what to do.

The soldier smiled, though the fear was evident in it. "If you desire it, I will do so." he glanced towards the door and his eyes softened. His voice grew to a whisper. "Is...is that truly the princess of Figaro?"

Sherra nodded. "Yes, it is."

His eyes widened. "But...but she's only a child."

Sherra felt that shame, that disgust, form in her stomach again. "I know..." but most of her husband and son's favorites were young girls.

---

In the few short days he had been home, his recovery accelerated. His mother had not stopped with her medical treatments until she was certain he was off the ledge of what she assumed was death. He never felt like he was that far gone though, just broken and lost. He knew there were other options available to her to heal him, but he couldn't understand why she—or his father—never brought it up. He understood why his mother hadn't recovered Emma after her assault with magic, they were trying to keep her origins a secret, but why now? Thanks to his mother, and the help of the nobles, the public was now aware of his sister's origins, of her capabilities and lack of control.

He winced as he drew himself up from his bed. A magical pick me up right now would be great, he thought dryly.

Someone knocked on the door, and before he could say anything, entered the room. He turned his body to see who it was, and smiled when he caught sight of Cadence. "I...I didn't expect to see you." he tried to rise, but she motioned him to stay.

"Why didn't you expect me?" she asked, and he could hear the hurt in her voice. "Do you really think that way of me?"

"No, I just...I just thought that once you heard what I did, you wouldn't love me anymore." he was certain she had heard the news, either from Terra or Celes. What else was there to him that could be tolerated?

"What?" she sat beside him. "Cambyses, why would I ever do something like that? I may not understand what you went through, but I understand that it was difficult beyond words."

He let his tears run. "How couldn't you stop?" he asked. "I betrayed my sister...I told that man everything about her, everything!" his sobs shook him, and Cadence reached over to bring him into a hug, to sooth him. "You cannot imagine the horrors he put me through...what more he could do to her. I don't deserve to be here while she is with that man!"

"Cambyses, listen to me," she took him by the face and forced him to look at her. "You did what you had to, to survive. Your sister would understand." she held him. "You have to understand that..."

"How could she?" he shook his head. "I put her in his hands, I told him everything I knew about her and I know why he wanted it! I messed up so bad..."

Cadence asked very gently, "Do you regret it?"

Sobbing, he shook his head. "That's the worst part...I don't." he sniffed. "What does that make me, Cadence?"

She held him closely, smoothing his hair. "It makes you human, Cambyses."

---

To Sherra's absolute astonishment, the injuries on the girl were already healing, and it had only been days. The lacerated marks on her arm were of course still very red and visible, but it no longer caused the girl to cry in pain when she moved her arms. It took nearly a day for the girl to wake too, and when she did, she was disoriented and frightened. Sherra had been administrating sleeping tea to the girl before, but decided it was time she woke.

After she comforted the girl, promised her it was over, at least for now, she had helped her to a basin of hot water and helped to wash her. Sherra was only able to wash her because she kept falling asleep, and in a way, Sherra was grateful. If the girl was awake, she would have squirmed and moved too much, hurting herself further.

It was during this time that she started to see the swelling in the girl's leg. She wasn't sure what happened, but once she dried Emma and had her lying down, she packed poultice on it and wrapped it.

On the fourth night, as Sherra rocked on the chair beside the bed, knitting, she heard the girl stirring. Quickly, Sherra set aside her things and got up to check on her. Her eyes fluttered open and closed several times. It was clear she could barely stay awake. Sherra knelt to take her hand. "If you need to rest, you must rest." and with that the girl was once again lost in her slumber, fitful but at least resting.

Smiling, she sat back down to continue her knitting.

In the morning, Sherra was relieved when the girl finally woke, though her mumbling could not be discerned. Sherra went to her immediately and brushed her hand over the girl's little hand. "I'm here Emma, all will be well now." and then, with great difficulty Sherra could tell, Emma tried to open her eyes to look at the woman. She closed them again, groaning in pain.

She is still disoriented from the medicinal tea, Sherra realized, as she went back to the tea stand. She poured a fresh cup of water and then came back to the bed. "Here, this will help some." at least, Sherra could not think of another way to clear her head. When she pressed it to the girl's lips, she drank quickly. Whether or not it cleared her head mattered little now, she was just so thirsty. When she was through, Sherra worried if she wanted more, so she brought another cup and, as she suspected, Emma drank it with the same urgency.

Emma relaxed into the pillows with a more soothed expression. It had been days since she drank. The best Sherra was able to offer her was water delivered from a sponge of sorts, trickled, so as to not choke her. "Is that better?" she asked, and the girl only mumbled. What it meant, Sherra could not say. Then, realizing that she hadn't done so yet, she said, "I must look at your wounds Emma. Please sit still..." when she just barely touched the injured arm, the girl jerked away. "I promise I won't hurt you. I only want to make the pain go down, and to stop potential infection."

This time, when she reached for Emma's arm, the girl did not protest. She laid stiffened, eyes squeezed shut, against burning tears. Sherra was gentle and deft with her hands. She had the wrap off in less than thirty seconds, and was gently prodding the skin, inspecting the healing progress. The lacerations were raw and bright red, but not so dreadful as the days before. At that time, when Sherra had first seen the girl, she feared the worse. That the wounds ran to muscle, but by the miracle of the gods, they did not. It was possible yet that Emma could recover to use her arms.

She touched too close to one of the lashes, and Emma twitched and mumbled through a cry. "I'm sorry, that was an accident..." she gently put her arm back down. "It looks like it is healing properly, but I will need to ask Bertrand if I can have a professional look at it." she went for her bag, and brought out the poultice to begin gently packing it against the wounds. When she was done, she rewrapped it and put the things away. "There, I'm done. Was it too bad?" she asked the girl with a small smile.

Through her swollen eyes, she could see the girl's pained eyes, the tears. "I was only joking, sweet girl, to...to make it easier." she sighed. "I'm sorry." she turned her back, to get herself a drink, when she heard the girl's words.

"M...miin..."

Twirling on her feet, surprised to hear her talking, Sherra asked her what she wanted. Emma struggled. "Miit..." she held back a sob. "haaf both..."

"Both?" she asked, confused. Clearly frustrated, Emma closed her eyes and let her tears run. "I'm sorry Emma, I just don't understand...both of what?"

"Booth..." she said again. "Boaath."

Sherra's eyes widened, and then shame flooded her. "Oh! You want a bath?" Sherra scolded herself, for she should have thought about that sooner, before she rewrapped the girl's arm! Oh how stupid had she been. "Of course, of course...let me go start the basin for you." she hurried off.

•••••••••••

It was becoming very, very difficult to stay awake. The lull of sleep, of temporary reprieve, tasted sweeter and sweeter every second. The only thing that kept her awake was the idea of a bath. She had felt ill, appalling, the second she woke. She wasn't sure if when she tried to ask Sherra for some time clean if she could make it clear, it was so difficult so speak. When the woman had understood, Emma wanted to cry.

When Sherra came back to help her to the basin, Emma could not bare to be touched. She knew the woman meant no harm, that she was not her son. And yet every time she touched her, all Emma could see was Luke, feel him...smell him. She felt sick to her stomach with the memory of it. It was kind of Sherra to try and get around touching her, even if it didn't work out, and yet despite the kind thought it did little to stop the pain in her.

"We are here," Sherra's voice called to her. Emma strained to open her eyes, to see. The room felt hot against her skin and was filled with steam. It was such a welcomed distraction from her thoughts that she reached forward with her other arm, as if she could touch the basin from where she stood.

Sherra gently guided her forward, until Emma's fingers touched the rim of the basin and the hot water. "Hold on, let me help you." she said, and started to help Emma into the basin. It wasn't until then that Emma realized that she was naked. She began to cry, confusing the kind woman. "What's wrong?"

"Baudii," she sobbed, sinking into the comforts of the water, further ashamed.

Sherra's voice was anxious. "I...I don't...do you mean the water is bad?" she asked. "Or...oh! Your body?" it hurt her to share her shame with Sherra. "Emma, sweet girl...you have nothing to fear from me. I would never judge you or...or..."

How could Sherra understand?! She wasn't used like she meant nothing. Her body wasn't subjected to such humiliating things. She didn't have to think about how someone could hurt you like that, or the fear and disgust one could feel!

"You know what..." Sherra whispered, and Emma felt her lean away. "...I really don't understand the pain you are going through, but I do understand you are in unimaginable pain and I want to do everything I can to help you." Emma heard shuffling, and then something was placed beside the basin. "If what you need is quiet understanding...I can give that." and then she heard the woman get up and walk some distance away, and then everything was quiet.

Emma felt blindly for the washing material and began scrubbing angrily at her skin. And even still she did not feel like she was free of him. She scrubbed harder and harder, until it burned. In her desperation, she accidentally dropped the scrub into the water and, unable to see very well, she gave it up. She screamed, painfully and in frustration, and let the sobs rip at her.

A moment later she felt Sherra's hand on her shoulder, and she let the woman pull her from the water into a hug. Sherra smoothed her wet hair down. "I have you now...I have you."

---

The few days that had passed since he told his parents about his betrayal, and the castle seemed to go into a solemn quiet. It was announced that morning to the public that the princess of Figaro had been banished and then, upon arrival, held in a hostage exchange. Even from his little chair inside the room where it was announced he could hear the roar of the civilians. No one could understand what their feelings were about the situation.

Since then, Cambyses did not want to be seen, not even by family. It was all well, too, since his parents were often too busy now to even see him. Benjamin had respected his wishes to not be seen, but he first let Cambyses know that he was there if he wished to speak. Cadence, however, was the only person he wanted to see, to be seen by. She was quiet and understanding, and did not judge him.

Today, when he had awoken and Cadence came by, he asked her to help him walk through the castle. When they started walking, it took only a few minutes for them to begin approaching Emma's room. Cadence felt him slowing, so she stopped.

His eyes focused on his sister's door. It was banged up, and pieces of wood and such pierced through it. When he began to cry, he stubbornly wiped the tears away and took a breath. "Would you mind if we took a stop here?"

Cadence smiled. "Of course not."

It was the first time he had stepped into her room in months. It was incredible the amount of damage the room had sustained. When he had first asked Cadence what happened, a few days ago, she was very reluctant to talk about it. Eventually she had opened up about the ordeal, and how terrifying and sad the experience had been. A great fury built in him when he heard who had ultimately caused his sister to transform, and yet not a piece of him was surprised. Alexander had never been a good person; he was indecent, rude and had no respect for women.

"I should have been here," he said, kneeling to pick up some of the burned debris below him. He couldn't imagine the suffering, the confusion or the pain his sister had been subjected to, both by her body and Alexander. "I would have seen it...I would have stopped him."

Cadence frowned. "Cambyses...your sister thinks she loves him."

He scoffed. "She's nothing more than a child...how could she know the love of a man?" he stood, and discarded the debris. "Regardless, it was her decision to trust Alexander that is part of the problem."

"Do not start that," she said, angrily. "Your sister may be younger than you, but she knows how she feels."

"It doesn't matter if she thinks she loves him or if she actually loves him," he turned to face Cadence. "Alexander would never settle, least of all for my sister."

"He made a mistake, one that he will regret for the rest of his life, but it doesn't mean what he feels for her is fake."

Cambyses looked at her, squarely, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"He loves her too, Cambyses," she explained. "You...you should have seen him when she transformed, or when she was imprisoned. He was erratic and desperate, all to save your sister."

"Charades," Camb muttered, looking away. There was no way Alexander could feel anything but lust. "He is selfish and a womanizer."

"Your father was one of those things," she pointed out. "Why should your father be able to change but not Alexander?"

The room was quiet then, except the wind howling through the broken wall and the creaking roof. Finally, Cambyses answered her, "Because my father has always been a good man. Alexander has never even been decent."

"You are letting your personal feelings come in the way of the bigger picture." Cambyses could hear the scorning tone on the edges. He was close to her anger erupting. "I do not understand why you two can't get along, I never have. I have thought it was stupid and childish since the moment it began, and I hate dealing with you two when you are like this."

"How can you defend him after what you said he did?" he was astonished. Cadence, of all people! "He tried to use her, like she was nothing more than a whore!"

"Yes, in the beginning, but he also showered her with attention and praise and drew out her trust. Don't you understand that?" she threw her hands up, agitated. "Does your sister truly matter in any of this, or is this about you and your anger?"

He was flabbergasted. "What...what are you talking about?!"

"Cambyses, she loves him!" Her shout caught him off guard. "Do you understand how profound that is, especially for her, after everything she has been subjected to? Do you understand that it was tremendously difficult for her to even talk to me about it, let alone accept that she had feelings for him?!"

"I'm not...I'm not trying to knock her feelings aside, I simply don't believe they are anything more than a fancy."

She shook her head. "You know what...it doesn't even matter. " it was only then that Cambyses could see the tears in her eyes. "She's gone...and I don't even think we will ever see her again."

"Cadence..." he reached to take her hand. "Don't think like that...please. I will save her, I swear to you."

"You?" Cadence and Cambyses turned to see Alexander standing in the door way. His eyes were fierce, and bloodshot. "You couldn't even protect her secrets."

Camb drew himself straight, his anger building up his strength. "Leave this place before I have you thrown into the stocks."

"Enough of this," Cadence snapped, coming between them. "Do you hear yourselves? Do you think Emma would want you two clawing at each other like a bunch of children?"

"We won't ever know," Alexander snapped. "Because of him and his bastard of a father!"

"Get out of here!" Cambyses howled, throwing his hand towards him. "You don't belong here, not after what you did to her!"

"Me?!" he charged towards the prince, and shoved him back. Cadence tried to keep him balance and disarm the bomb between them, but they were no longer paying attention to her. "You think you get to speak to me about my mistakes when yours runs for miles?! You tormented your sister every moment you were around her, and you think what I did levels to the years of abuse you threw at her?!"

"You tried to take what you wanted from her like she meant nothing, like she was no different than a whore!"

"I love your sister!"

"No, you love the idea of what she can give you!"

Cadence smacked them both, as hard as she could. They quieted to gape at her, utterly stunned. "You two are both idiotic jackasses! This is not the time nor place to measure your mistakes! Do you really think Emma is measuring them? Do you think she would like the idea of her brother fighting with the man that she loves?!"

"But Cadence—"

She shot him a wicked look and Cambyses quieted down again. "You both think you are acting in her best interests, that you love her more than the other, but the truth is that you aren't, you are being selfish, and the love that you both have for her isn't lesser than the other. The only difference in what you two feel for her is the way that you love her!"

Cambyses looked over at the young man that had supposedly taken his sister's heart captive, and could see nothing of quality in him. He narrowed his eyes. How was he supposed to be okay with a womanizing, emotionally abusive and wanton man following after his sister, lavishing his sister in his lustful ways, ignoring her in all the ways that mattered? No, there was no way this man could be anything of value to his sister.

"No," he said after a moment, looking away. "I could never entrust my sister to a man like him."

Alexander scoffed. "Still think everything revolves around you..." he turned and left, as suddenly as he had arrived.

When he was finally gone, Cambyses cursed him and looked at Cadence. "Can you believe..." her eyes were fierce, and her body stiff with anger. "Cadence, you don't actually believe he's changed? That he could be good for Emma?"

"You weren't here," she shouted. "You didn't see the way he improved her, the way that she smiled and laughed...all for him! You are a stubborn idiot!" and then she too stormed out of the room, fuming.

Cambyses watched her go, and shook his head. "I can't let her get hurt...not again."

---

In the week that followed Bertrand extending her recovery, Emma spent every moment of it with this strange woman. There was no hostility or the like with her, a stark contrast to her husband or sons. She was soft spoken and kind, and had a funny accent Emma found enjoyment in listening to. She sung a lot too, and danced by the window to the short, repetitive music of a little phonograph. She seemed happy, despite where she lived and who she was married to.

Emma spent a majority of her initial time together with the woman simply watching her, afraid to speak much, to do anything in fear of receiving Bertrand's wrath, but on the start of the second week, it changed. When Sherra brought in a cart of books, Emma's heart fluttered. It had been the first time she had seen a book in weeks. She found the strength to ask for one of them, and the walls crumbled a bit ever since.

By the end of the second week, strength returned to her as well. She was able to lift her arm—Sherra was very vocal about how lucky Emma was for not having damaged muscle—and her leg felt much better. Even to the point that she could walk on it without anything more than a strange throbbing after a few hours. By then, it was completely normal for the two to spend their mornings beneath the window, reading or breaking their sup.

On this particular day, it was late in the morning and the sun was burning through the laced curtains against the wooden flooring. Emma sat in the warmth of it, reading through one of the many strange tomes of this bizarre land. The content was almost entirely in some weird cuneiform. It took Emma a moment to realize she had seen it before...in the washing room. She traced her finger over the imagery, feeling strangely familiar with it.

She almost didn't hear Sherra speaking to her. "Emma? Emma, do you hear me?"

Startled by the sudden noise, she looked up and into the worried face of Sherra. "I-I'm s-sorry Sherra, I didn't hear y-you."

The woman laughed. "That is quite alright, dear. Well, have you found anything enjoyable among this lot?" she gestured to the book pile beside Emma. "If not, I could send someone into town to pick up some more literature, or whatever you might find enjoyable."

Emma closed the book gently and sat it aside. "T-This is more than e-enough, thank you."

"Nonsense...if you find this boring, there's more out there for you to read." Sherra sat down in front of her, and Emma suddenly found herself staring at the woman's stomach.

Looking away, Emma turned her head a bit, to look at the kindly woman better, and then asked, "Sherra...?" the woman hmm'd. "Are you..." she didn't know how to phrase her question other than directly, but she understood that it might upset Sherra if she did. When she didn't answer, the woman pressed her gently. "I j-just...thought...never mind, it isn't important." she picked up one of the books, to distract herself, but Sherra leaned forward to gently push the book down.

"What were you going to ask, Emma? You don't have to be afraid."

Twisting her fingers, suddenly very nervous, she asked, "Are you...pregnant?"

Immediately, Sherra backed away, startled. "What...why—why do you think I'm pregnant?" Emma watched as the woman covered her stomach. It was true, but she didn't want to admit it. Whatever her reasons, Emma knew she had to respect it and that, for whatever reason, it upset Sherra to be asked it.

"Okay...I'm s-sorry." she mumbled, turning her eyes back to the book. She knew her face was bright red. Doing what Relm and her mother taught her to do, to "pay attention" to the under tones of a person and their conversation was both exhausting and embarrassing. She never seemed to get it right.

"Oh, no...sweety, you didn't do anything wrong," she reached over to take one of Emma's hands. "I was just...surprised. I didn't expect to hear such a thing from you." she sighed, dramatically. "In truth, yes, I am pregnant. I knew sooner or later it would be discernible from my body, but I thought I had more time before I had to start telling people...or preparing."

"From your body?" she asked, confused.

Sherra eyed her, worriedly. "Yes...don't I look pregnant?"

Emma quietly considered her question. She didn't exactly know what that meant. How did one look pregnant? "I don't know," she answered after a moment.

"Well then, how did you know?" Sherra laughed.

Emma shrugged.

"Did someone tell you?" Sherra sounded very worried.

"No..."

The silence that drew upon them was strangely loud. By the way that she was being looked at, Emma knew she had done something wrong. She tried to act as if the woman wasn't looking at her, but it made her skin crawl to be under someone's gaze.

Quietly, as if she were afraid to word it, Sherra spoke to her. "Emma...if you weren't told and you don't see it, how did you know?"

Flustered, she tried to explain. "I...I don't know, I j-just did." Sherra regarded her with a worrying glance, and something else Emma was afraid to identify. "Did...did I do something wrong?"

"Of course not," she said through a smile. "I was just curious, that's all." and then she exhaled. "It doesn't matter how you know...but I am thankful you finally do."

Emma wondered if she could talk more about it, but she felt like she had bumped into her limit. So without another word, Emma went for her book again. For a few minutes she read in silence, trying to discern meaning in the cuneiform the best she could without knowing the language, until Sherra sighed dramatically. It took her attention. She looked up from the pages at the woman, shortly, before looking away and asking what was wrong.

"This," she said, chuckling, as she gestured to the books. "Wouldn't you enjoy something different?" Emma was certain she was referring to the amount of educational books that surrounded her, but she didn't understand what the problem was in reading them. It seemed no matter where she went in the world, people would find it odd what she read in her spare time.

"I...I like them." she mumbled as she protectively held one to her chest.

"I know you do," she said it through another smile, one so warm and sweet. "But surely there is something else you would want to do? Anything at all? I do think it is great that you adore these educational tomes, but...you are still a kid."

Emma did not understand what she meant by that. She frowned. "Is...is reading r-really that strange?"

"Heavens," she laughed. "No, no...of course not. You aren't strange for enjoying the things that you do, even if it is different from most. That is what makes you special. I just thought maybe you had something else you wanted to read or do, but felt you couldn't."

Thinking on her words, Emma tried to think of things she wanted to do. The only real thing she wanted was to go home, to see her mother and family again...to Alexander. But that was out of reach, she knew it. She had been given away, as a peace token and a way to save her brother. Other than that, she just wanted to stay out of Lucas' way, and his father. Thinking about what he had done to her made her sick to her stomach, and made it so hard to breathe.

"Emma?" When she felt Sherra touch her, she jerked away. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you Emma, you just looked...out of it."

She reached up for her heart, and felt it thrumming painfully. "I...I..." the words were barely able to escape her mouth; each breath was explosive, painful.

"Sssh, sshh," Sherra soothed her with a slow, gentle touch on her hand. "It is okay, take a deep breath. Calm down, calm down." but no matter how hard she tried to breathe, to stop the pain in her chest, it didn't work. "Okay Emma, I think you are having an anxiety attack, but it will be okay. You just need to listen to me, relax and take a deep breath." Emma felt Sherra's hands on her shoulders.

"I-I can't b-b-breathe," Emma managed through long winded breaths, through sobs.

"I know, sweety, I know," Sherra tightened her grip just a bit. "Just breathe, breathe in...and out. In and out. Come on dear." Emma tried to breathe as she was told to. "That's it, in and out, slow and steady." when it became easier to breathe, and the pain in her ribs started to dull, Emma clung to Sherra in tears. Sherra smoothed her hair down and held her tight. "Everything will be okay...ssh, ssh."

"I'm sorry," Emma cried. "I'm s-sorry."

"You didn't do anything wrong," Sherra held her even tighter. "You will never have anything to apologize for." after a moment, Sherra gently held Emma back a bit and then brushed her tears away. "I will do everything in my power to keep you safe, at least when you are with me. It is no large comfort, I know...but I will try."

"Y-you c-can't stop him," she mumbled through a small sob.

"No," she admitted softly. "I can't truly stop him, but I can be sure he won't ever hurt you too much...again, small comfort if anything, but the best I can offer."

Emma knew what she meant, and reached to hug her. "Thank you..."

"Now," Sherra patted her back gently. "What do you say we get you into some sunlight and fresh air?"

Trembling, Emma looked at her. "You...you m-mean you w-want to go outside?"

Sherra laughed. "Well, I do not see how else we could enjoy the sun and fine breeze."

The princess shook her head and leaned out of the woman's touch. "No...no. He will be angry."

It was clear as to whom she was referring. Sherra's son would have no issue with the girl going outside, provided she was well watched. It was the king the girl feared, and Sherra understood perfectly. The smallest, strangest things would set her husband off, but she was certain she could convince her husband that taking some time outside would be beneficial to the girl's health and recovery.

"Now, you will let me handle my husband. He did leave me in charge of your recovery, there is no reason he would deny this."

"No," she cried, before turning, back to Sherra.

The queen sighed. "Emma...you have Sand Fever. You cannot just lie about like this. You need to take care of your body or you will die."

Sniffling, the girl replied, "Then I will die."

Alarmed, as she had not anticipated the response, Sherra leaned forward to lay a hand on her shoulder. "Emma...don't say that. You have a family to return to and—"

"Please...just leave me alone."

Sherra patted her shoulder before heading out of the room. If she were lucky, the poor thing only needed some time alone, to grasp the levity of her condition. In the meantime, Sherra knew she had to speak with her husband. As soon as she secured the princess with guards, to prevent her son from entering, she went to find Bertrand.

He was, not surprisingly, walking the western parapets with his scientific team. One of them hung back several steps, head down, but the other walked with the brisk pace of the king, almost excitedly. Sherra approached quietly, knowing not to disturb him in the midst of his discussion.

She kept pace with the second man, and looked at him. "Johl...it has been some time."

The man, surprised by her voice, startled and looked at the woman to his right. He had been watching the stone before rather than around him. "Sherra, gods...you nearly gave me a heart attack." she smiled, and apologized. "Heavens, it is good to see you. Have you been well?"

He was referencing her last pregnancy, she was sure. She nodded. "I've been feeling better every day, but it isn't something you can forget."

He frowned. "Of course...of course. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought anything up."

"No, it is quite alright..." she glanced ahead, toward her husband. "How long has he been talking?"

"Alveri has his ear," Johl said, not jealously, but worriedly. "I do not yet know the girl, but I already feel great pity for her. Alveri will do what he must to succeed...the costs mean little to him."

Sherra wanted to cuddle herself up somewhere far away. She had seen what Alveri considered good scientific endeavors and still had nightmares of it. The experimentation he dabbled in was what drew him to Bertrand. "Will he truly listen to that...that lunatic?"

Johl shook his head. "I have no idea, but the man does have history with the empire's science team. Bertrand very well could find him more than fit for the job."

"What is he even planning to do?"

Johl held her eyes. "I have no idea, not yet. This is what the meeting was meant to entail, but as you can see...Alveri has shut me out. I won't know until he deems I need to." he sighed. "My specialty comes into play much later in this process."

"Gods," Sherra breathed, hand on her heart. "Let this evil stay far away from the girl."

"Sherra, you must prepare yourself, and the girl. This is only the beginning."

Just then, Bertrand and Alveri turned and spotted them. Bertrand's eyes filled with malice as he began briskly toward them. Alversi was smirking at his heels the whole way over. "Why are you here woman, and not with the girl?"

"I've come to request your permission to take her outside. She needs fresh air, and sunlight. Her Sand Fever could—"

He waved a hand at her. "Whatever. Do what you must to get her fit."

She bowed to him, thankful. "She is moving along nicely, she should be fit enough soon enough."

Bertrand scowled at her when she straightened out. "You wouldn't be lying to me to delay the inevitable, would you wife?"

Horror struck her. That was the furthest thing from her mind! But if he suspected it, there would be no convincing him otherwise. She knew she had drained of color when she finally found the words to speak. "Bertrand...I am not stupid."

He clucked his tongue. "We shall see. Johl?" he looked at the other man in the lab coat. "You will inspect the girl yourself and if I find any reason to suspect you are lying to me...well, I should think you know what I will do."

Johl tensed up. "Of course, your majesty..." he looked at Sherra. "Please, lead the way, your grace."

Reluctantly, Sherra turned and began walking. She could hear Johl's foot steps behind her, and feel her husband's eyes drilling a hole in her back.

When they arrived back at the princess' room, she stopped Johl. "Please...I am not asking you to lie about her condition, I think I should not have to, but when you are in there...try not to touch her, at least not without telling her first." he promised, and so she opened the door for him.

Inside, the princess was still in the sunlight beneath the window, but instead of digging through the tomes set beside her, she was asleep. Her head hung forward from the wall she had used as a support, and in her arms she cradled a large dusty tome. Sherra quietly hurried over to gently help the girl into a more relaxed position, shaking her head the entire time.

Johl approached softly, staring in amazement at the young girl. "This...this is the girl?"

"Yes," Sherra whispered, laying the girl down on the floor. "Why do you ask?"

"She..." he clearly was at a loss for words. "She...she doesn't look..."

Sherra thought she understood, and stood. "She is different than you expected? No horns or vicious teeth?"

He pinked a bit. "Honestly...yes. We were told she was an esper, and documented espers do not look so...human." he shook his head. "If the hair was different, and the ears weren't so...so strange, you would never know."

Sherra glanced back at Emma, thoughtfully. She supposed that was true. Emma did not look like the creatures known as espers, not entirely, but she did have enough to make people question it. Pointed ears and strange hair and eyes. How did the Figaro crown ever convince people she was just ordinary? Did they tell people she was...deformed? Suddenly Sherra felt even greater pity for the girl.

"You're right. And if she had been born lucky enough to look like her family, maybe she wouldn't be here right now as an experiment for Bertrand."

He let the silence go for a moment before approaching the girl. Sherra shifted out of the way. "Be gentle with her," she told him, watching worriedly. He smiled as he knelt. There were recovering welts all over her, particularly the face, and one of her arms were bandaged up almost up to the shoulder and close to the wrist. He could see small patches of blood leaking through here and there.

"This is the arm the prince injured, yes?" Sherra nodded to his question. "If it is indeed as bad as you described in your note, she should not be exerting it. She needs to give it time to properly heal. If she is careful with her healing as I wrote back to you, there is no reason why the arm shouldn't recover as new and perhaps, with extra care, not leave such a heinous scar behind."

Sherra was thankful to hear that, but she still worried about any errors. "I need to change her bandage...would you do it instead?"

He nodded, understanding, and shifted the bag over his shoulder onto the floor. The clank of the clasp hitting the floor startled the girl upright in a gasp. The second she saw Johl, she cried out and scooted herself away from him.

"Emma calm down," Sherra said as she went to the girl's side. "He is not here to hurt you, he is a friend." just then Emma's eyes, wide with fear, focused on Johl. Tears had begun to spill over. "I promise you Emma, he is not going to hurt you. He is here to look at your injuries, to help."

Johl, smiling, extended a hand toward the girl. "It is a pleasure to meet you, dear. I hope this will be the start of a great friendship." Emma turned away from him and hid herself in a hug with Sherra. The woman, smiling, wrapped her arms around her. Johl let his hand fall back to his side, though he was not deterred. "You do not have to talk with me or any such, not unless you feel comfortable, but if it is okay with you I would like to look at your injuries more closely. Sherra is worried about you, and I only wish to help."

"Please Emma," Sherra whispered. "He can help."

And it was with great hesitation she complied. She trembled the entire time he checked over her arm and other visible injuries, as if she could be blown away by a gust of wind. Her eyes had been screwed closed the entire time, and she breathed quick and hard. Johl knew the signs of her abuse well from other victims, and tried to be as gentle and endearing as possible.

"It seems like Sherra did quite a good job with your arm," he finished wrapped her arm with new bandage. He had applied a salve that would help with the pain, and hopefully with the tissue. "And the welts on your face seem to be fading nicely."

"Johl," Sherra mumbled, trying to indicate what to ask about next without saying the words. She lifted her brows when he did not catch her meaning. "Isn't there more you need to ask?" she said finally, and now looking a bit annoyed with him.

He frowned, but then pinked a bit. "Oh, yes...of...of course." he cleared his throat. "It..it has come to my attention that you are...are well..." It was then that she finally opened her eyes to look at him, though only for a few seconds before looking down at her arm. She huddled into herself. He took a breath. "I was informed that you are bleeding Emma." this made her look at him and then Sherra, alarmed.

"I...I c-c-can't stop that," she cried, defensively.

Johl, surprised, said, "No, of course not. I just want to discern why you are bleeding, be it from injury or more...natural causes."

Her brows furrowed. "Natural?" she mumbled.

"Yes, you know...your monthly bleed." he said it as he looked away, embarrassed.

Emma looked at Sherra, "How w-would I know?" she asked the woman, in what she had clearly hoped was quiet enough just for them.

Sherra smiled at her, patiently. "You keep track of your menstruation, dear."

"Menstriation?" she repeated.

Alarmed, the woman explained quickly what bleeding they meant. The poor girl looked defeated to Johl when she answered that she only remembered the first time it happened, which was a few days before her capture. Sherra looked equally surprised as he did. Her first menstruation was so short ago? It hadn't even been three full months since her capture. It was clear what this was, then. How old was she? Sherra knew she would have to ask her later.

Johl said, "Well, I will leave it to you ladies to take it from here." he got up, and Sherra stopped him.

"What will you tell him?"

He looked at the princess, trembling in the woman's arms. She looked so weak, so frightened. He knew she was, technically, well enough to endure Bertrand's plans, but he could not send her in there yet. And perhaps he was unwilling to participate in it, just yet. He would grant her a few days. He said, "I will tell him she needs more time."

Sherra smiled at him, thankful.

---

The plans to remove the council from the last vestige of power had been agreed upon half a moon ago in the solar, between Suon, Hals, Terra, Edgar and the heir of Figaro, Cambyses. It was a matter of utmost secrecy, and so whenever they met they came half an hour in difference to another, to avoid suspicious and the eyes of spies.

"Today," Edgar said to those gathered around, with a great sense of gravity. "They will be already expecting something from our end, but we have the element of surprise...and the backing of the Veldt and Thamasa."

"And the free country of Narshe," Suon added.

"The Veldt has agreed to take three of them as prisoners," Cambyses mumbled. "It leaves only two without imprisonment, but can we risk it?"

"Saem has always been respectful, if only dutiful to his position," Terra said. "I would not see him imprisoned for the rest of their crimes and abuses."

Edgar nodded. "Agreed. And Kirem seems just as unburdened by their crimes, but how can we be sure they did not plot against us? Against Emma?" the room was quiet. He sighed. "But you are right...I cannot judge and punish men who have done nothing."

"So then," Suon leaned away from the table, brows furrowed. "We address the last issue...those who have escaped us."

Hals snarled. "I will hunt Brud and his ilk down until the end of days if I must."

""We have a total of three in custody, with one of them having been Olmpa. Four have escaped us and run to gods knows where..." Terra shook her head. "How will we ever find them?"

"Through the traitors that had freed them," Cambyses said, his anger boiling. "We know we have spies...why don't we do something about it?"

"Easier said than done, m'boy."

"If we can not search them out," he smiled. "Then we lay a trap down for them."

"Let us not get carried away with unnecessary actions," Suon said. "It would be a waste of our efforts to seek out these traitors, at least now for this purpose. Let us send the three we have now to the Veldtic and then we can scour for the remaining rats."

Edgar considered all of their input with quiet. Cambyses had a point about the spies, but Suon was right about time-they needed to deal with this situation now. An announcement had to be made in clear detail about the council, and those who had plotted not only against the crown, but with the aid in some case, with Roskovo. He sighed. "We do not have the manpower to split between the two equally...Cambyses, you will be left with the delegation party meeting the Veldtic. It will mean overseeing the transfer of prisoners. I am sure you are more than capable for it."

Cambyses nodded. "Of course, father."

"Hals," he looked at the stoic man across the table. "You will accompany Suon in plan drafting, and will oversee whatever it is you two decide to do about the remaining council. And Terra, my love," her eyes still held that anger towards him, but he knew he had to put aside his own issues for now to deal with the bigger picture." You and I will prepare for the announcement."

Terra looked at him with such disappointment he felt ready to flee. "Fine." and then she left the room.

Cambyses reached over to pat his father's shoulder. "Give her time, father...she is in pain."

Edgar closed his eyes against tears. I know...

---

The day had come that Emma could no longer hide in her room. Bertrand had become irritated by her slow recovery, and at some point, became suspicious that Sherra and Johl were lying, or purposely refusing to aid the girl to extend her recovery time. It came to a point where Johl and Sherra had to be monitored daily, to be sure they were trying to heal her. It took only a week after that for Johl to be forced to admit she was well enough to endure whatever it was they were planning to do.

They later found out it was more reconditioning.

It was agony, and Sherra knew there was nothing she could do to help the princess from the depth of pain she had been thrown into. It was beginning to take its toll on the girl, for the color faded completely from her flesh and she practically turned into a skeleton. Morning after morning she was dragged from her room, often when there was no need to drag her, and tortured for hours on end. All without ever breaking. It drew the frustration and anger from Bertrand. He had never met a person who could withstand him for long, and yet this little girl was proving to be his first failure.

And it only made him hurt her more.

Soon enough the girl had been beaten so thoroughly none of Bertrand's medics could advise any further reconditioning until she recovered. And with how mangled she had been left, it would take some time. Bertrand had personally dropped the girl off, scowling. "Do not neglect her behavioral instructions woman, or else I will bring her back down to those dungeons." and that was that.

Sherra wasn't entirely sure what she was supposed to be teaching the poor thing, but she suspected in some way that a majority of Bertrand's anger with the girl was how she reacted to him. She of course knew there was no way she could convince the girl to forgo her resistance, but she had to hope there was leeway the girl could grant. If only to avoid being beaten senseless again.

The subject was approached on an evening well into her recovery, when she was able to sit up on her own once again. The shine in her eyes and hair, the softness of her skin, had vanished. Her hair now fell to her shoulders rather flat and pale, almost white, and her eyes resembled black pools rather than the eyes that had become, very quickly, famous in the castle.

Sherra handed her a glass of water, with the pain medication mixed in. "Do you feel any better today, Emma?"

The princess drank slowly and then handed the empty glass back. "Yes...much better."

"That is fantastic news but..." she hesitated. "This is going to be hard to repeat to you but I must." Emma's eyes refocused on her hands as she listened. "Bertrand has demanded me to train you to behave." it seemed like Emma hadn't heard her. "Please...I know it is important for you to resist him, and I don't want to tell you to give in, but you have to give him some ground. Fool him, if you must, otherwise you will never leave that dungeon again and I won't be able to help you." Finally, the girl looked toward her though not at her. It was clear she wanted to say something, but instead she laid back into her pillows and closed her eyes. "Emma...please." she touched the girl's shoulder, but was shrugged away.

Sherra knew she had to get the girl to understand, but when she was like this... Sherra said, "How about we just forget that for a moment? Okay?" silence. "The weather is nice outside...would you like to join me for the rest of the evening? I still haven't gotten the chance to show you our gardens." it was that which had finally drawn some reaction out of her. She opened her eyes and sat up.

"Are...are we allowed to go outside?"

Sherra smiled. "I got permission for it from Bertrand."

Emma's eyes looked away at something, thoughtfully. Sherra knew the girl was probably weighing the risks against the rewards and feared she would decline. After a few seconds, her eyes went back to Sherra. "Okay..."

It only took them a few minutes to ready up for the little journey. Emma had dressed herself—she was adamant of it today—and, with trembling hands, brushed her hair. As Sherra gathered up her old sheets and clothing into the bin, she caught a glance of the poor girl staring at her own reflection, tears in her eyes.

"Are you ready, sweety?" she asked the girl as she approached. Emma looked ashamed to have been seen, and quickly adverted her eyes. She nodded. "Emma, you know that..." Sherra stopped herself. She probably doesn't want to talk about it... "Nevermind, let us be on our way."

The walk through the castle to the nearest garden had proved to be difficult. Emma tried her hardest to hide behind Sherra as they walked, to avoid the eyes of the workers and soldiers, but it was near impossible. If that wasn't enough of an issue, some of the soldiers snickered and made cruel comments as they passed. Sherra was sure to chew them out, or to send them away, but their damage had been done.

By the time that they had made it to the garden, Emma was near ready to run all the way back to her room. That much was clear. But as soon as her eyes laid upon the swath of flowers and blooming trees, and the little ponds, she was attached. She hurried toward the nearest garden and knelt beside it to smell the flowers. Sherra smiled and knelt beside her.

"Wonderful, aren't they?"

Emma's eyes had sparkled with life once more. "I've n-never seen anything like it..."

"They are native to the island," she explained. "They are called the Dragon's Heart here, but a variant exists in the Veldt known as the Blood Dragon." Emma asked if she could pick one, and Sherra smiled. "Of course, you can pick whatever you want here."

And for several minutes the girl went from flower bed to flower bed, snapping samples off at the stems and tucking them away into the basket Sherra had brought with them. Being on her feet was starting to ache, so Sherra sat on one of the smooth stone benches and watched as the exiled princess scurried about as quickly as she could.

"There is another garden on the southern side," she told the girl when she returned, flowers in hand. Emma's eyes widened with curiosity. "Most of them are the same flowers, but there's a quite a few different ones too. The next time we head out, I will take you there." Emma thanked her as she knelt beside the basket to organize the flowers. "What are you going to do with all of them?" she asked after a moment.

Emma smiled, and it looked so tired. "I'm going to p-p-put them in some books." she carefully closed the basket of the bundle of flowers even as Sherra asked why. Emma simply said, "So I can always have them."

It was a strange thing to do, but Sherra would not question it and make her feel like she shouldn't. "Well then...I will definitely have to take you to the other gardens. Plenty of mementos to be collected." she seemed excited by that idea, though her attention remained iron clad over organizing her current basket of flowers. Her strict attention made Sherra recall an earlier discussion. She got the girl's attention and patted the space next to her, to indicate for the girl to sit. Emma sat aside her task and went to sit down.

"What is it?" she asked fearfully, under a quiet voice.

"I want to continue our earlier discussion," she explained. "I know you are quite pleased with your dusty tomes and history, but I would feel better knowing you had more to do in the day."

Her brows furrowed. "Like what?" she asked. "I...I thought going outside w-w-would be enough."

Sherra looked at her, alarmed. "Emma, you don't truly wish to hide in your room...do you?" Emma looked away, thinking. Sherra persisted. "I know this situation is difficult and unforgivable to be put in, but I want to help however I can. There has to be something that I can do to help take your mind off it all."

For a moment the breeze shifting through the bushes and trees was all that passed between them, but finally Emma resigned herself. "W-what about a p-p-piano?"

Sherra smiled. "That could be easily arranged. What else?"

It was clear Emma became uncomfortable. "I...I don't know."

"Come now..." Sherra put her arm around the girl and brought her closer. "Tell me of your old room...what did you have there?" and for several minutes Emma hesitantly recalled her room to the best of her ability. How there was a spot for her to paint near the window, a shelf full of books for her to read—ever expanding—and so on. There were miniature statues she had helped her father make when they visited Thamasa, models she painted though they had been sealed away in a glass container and covered with cloth, and of course about all sorts of instruments she practiced on. It was painful for her to recall, Sherra could see that, but the instance Emma began to cry Sherra stopped her mid-sentence.

"Emma, sweet girl..." she held her close. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry you are here, that you have to experience any of this..."

"He g-g-gave me to them," she cried into the woman's shirt. "W-w-what did I do? Why...why does he hate me so m-much?"

Sherra knew better than to try to explain that her father had been put into a situation where he had to decide to save them both. She knew trying to explain to Emma that her father only tried to save her would not end well. So she held the girl closer and let her cry. "Come now," she said after a moment or two. "Let us dry those tears and find you some joy."

Emma looked at her through teary eyes and sniffed. "I...I just want t-t-to go lie down."

Sherra smiled, understanding. It was getting rather late. She got to her feet. "Then that is what you will do. Here, hand me your arm. That's it."

The walk back to her room was very quiet, almost peaceful. It was with great luck that they hadn't come across any soldiers or workers, for Sherra knew it would aggravate the poor girl's delicate nature, but also because she knew the servants and soldiers served as spies for Bertrand. If he knew how happy leaving the castle had made Emma, he would surely destroy it.

Arriving at her room, Sherra escorted Emma to her bed and chuckled when the girl collapsed into the bed with a tired sigh. "If walking around exhausted you this much, then we have work to do." Emma rolled over, exaggerating the movement, to look at her.

"What d-d-do you mean?"

"I have seen Sand Fever before," Sherra said, walking over to the nearby dresser to grab all of the discarded clothes on the floor. "In Albrook and Thamasa mostly, but more than I cared to see. I have seen exercise and a healthy lifestyle sustain them." Emma groaned, clearly annoyed. Sherra continued. "From now on, I think we should make you walk every day for some time, and then bump you up into jogging. You will see a huge benefit."

"It won't help," she finally mumbled, closing her eyes. "It never does." she was already falling asleep.

"Well, it is worth the attempt," she assured the exile. "I will let you rest now, but don't worry, I will be back in a few hours." she went for the door, stopping when the girl called for her. "Yes?" she turned to look at Emma, who had sat up.

There was shame in her eyes, or perhaps embarrassment. "Is...is it too l-late to ask for something?"

Smiling, she said, "Of course not. What would you like me to get?"

A blush shaded her cheeks and she adverted her eyes. "A novel...by Ladio."

"What is the name of the novel?"

Clearly unsure about continuing, Emma mumbled, "The Swan..."

"I shall see what I can do," she told the girl. "Now rest, you need it." she said her goodbyes and was on her way.

Sherra made her first stop to check the library for the book. She checked under the author's surname and then his first, and then began digging through categories for it. It took her an hour and a half to realize that they had nothing under Ladio in the library. Defeated, she collected some fresh historical tomes for the girl and went on her way to her next stop.

When she arrived at Johl's office, she had grown far more anxious. She needed to be sure that Emma's condition could tolerate a rigorous schedule. Johl was more than happy to help devise a plan for the princess, and even put in his own input on what else the girl could be doing.

"Her parents had the right of it," he said, digging through a list. "A healthy diet will surely help, but not in the way that they had hoped. If you want to see her improve, you will need to at least introduce physical activity."

Sherra nodded. "Of course. I will make sure everything is moderated. Do you think she could start in the morning, without risking Bertrand's wrath?"

Johl sighed, thinking. "It is coming about that time anyhow, Sherra. He wants her back in that lab, and her being well enough to go outside and participate in activities will be enough evidence for him."

Knowing what he meant, the woman shook her head. "I just thought...thought that I could spare her for a bit longer."

"You can't," he told her. "All you can do is try to make her living conditions here less...abysmal. What Bertrand wants, he will get. If Emma could just be a bit more lenient in that regard, she would be out of that room and recover a lot more."

"You want her to give in to his demands?"

"If she wishes to live? Yes. She is being faced with a difficult choice, I am certain of it, but she needs to decide whether the long future of growing torture and abuse is wroth not giving him empty words."

"It would be beyond cruel to force her to give into him," Sherra told him.

"I know...that is why it should be presented to her so that she can decide. If she doesn't cave in soon Sherra..." he let it hang like that, and then added, "I'm sorry, I know that isn't helpful."

It was too late in the day to have this discussion. She would give Emma advise and that was it, she would not force her into anything she did not want. She already had people around her doing that to her. "I have already discussed it with her. It is safe to say she did not take to it very well. I won't do anything more.

"Of course, of course," Johl nodded. "I'm sorry Sherra..."

"You have nothing to apologize, you are just trying to make it easier for her." she looked at the clown in the far corner. "I need to see my husband before nightfall. Do you know where he is?"

"I'm not sure, but usually around this time he takes his leave for the northern decks."

Sherra had forgotten how he loved to look at the stars, and the long process of setting up before nightfall was one of his passions. It was the strangest and gentlest part of him, and it often confused her. She would need to be careful approaching him, knowing this. She thanked Johl and went on her way.

When she arrived at the northern decks, she was fortunate enough to not have caught him in the middle of twiddling with his equipment. If she had bothered him then, his anger would be explosive. At the moment, he was simply waiting, observing the darkening sky with an uncharacteristic patience. Although she was sure not to disturb him or cause any noise, he seemed to know she was there.

"What is it, woman?" the tone was flat, but she could sense the annoyance in it.

Sherra approached slowly, cautiously. She glanced up at the darkening sky. When he had won her heart all those years ago, he had showed her the night sky. The charming, charismatic man that had won her heart had died quickly after their marriage, replaced by an impatient and brutal man. She often laid awake at night wondering what had broken him. What had taken all of the love from his heart.

"I came to ask you if I may head into the city tomorrow." Without turning his eyes from the sky, he asked her why. "I...I would like to buy a few things." when he gestured for her to continue, she did so, though very cautiously. "For...for Emma."

Finally he turned to her, and his eyes held hers. They were like emeralds, beautiful always, enchanting beneath the dying light. There was no anger, no jealousy, nothing. "She is not your child, woman."

"I know," she said, softening her voice, hoping to coax out one of his rare moods. "But I thought if she had something of her own, something to do, she would feel..." she hesitated. "More cooperative, less..."

"She is a slave, Sherra," he simply told her, narrowing his eyes at her. "She isn't even human. She is an abomination. A tool."

"She is a child," she said quietly. "A broken and frightened child, even if she is not wholly a human child. I just want to give her something to hold onto, Bertrand. Please."

"You are not allowed to leave the castle grounds, not in your condition," he turned back to the sky and just as she was about to protest, he continued. "Provide Barkov with an item list and he will retrieve it for you."

She smiled. "Thank you, Bertrand."

Eyes still on the sky, he said, "Just remember what that thing is," and then he crossed his arms. "Now leave me be." She thanked him again, and she truly meant it, and hurried from his side before he could retract his generosity. It would be too late today to provide Barkov with the item list, but she was sure to write it down ahead of time. She threw in a few things for the princess, despite her not asking for it, and a ton of sweet foods and clothing, as the girl was almost constantly out of options. Emma wouldn't say why, but she would refuse the boyish looking attire entirely. Often times she would just take oversized clothing from the female staff if they had it to spare. It confounded Sherra.

When she was finally through with the list, she wen to check on Emma again. She was still fast asleep. Sherra smiled and kissed her forehead, wishing her a good sleep, and then retreated to her quarters to get much needed rest.

In the morning, before she went to check on Emma, she went about looking for Barkov. The man was a no show whenever Bertrand did not require his assistance, and today was no different. Sherra had sent agents out to look for him, and unsurprisingly, one came back to say the man was at the local whorehouse. Sherra, annoyed today more than ever with the man's unsavory pass times, issued the agents to return and tell the man that she needed to speak with him, on consent of Bertrand.

It took only an hour for the man to return, steaming mad and a little drunk. She was awaiting him in the foyer, sipping patiently at her tea.

"You do not order me around," he snarled. "I am the king's general, not the queen's!"

"Yes, and at his command, you bark. I understand." she sat aside her cup, a little amused that her words had infuriated him. "You are here because your king consented it." she slid a piece of paper out toward him and he peered at it angrily. "You are to head into the city and procure the items on that list."

He took the paper and read it. He began to smirk. "The king ordered this?" he asked again, looking up at the queen. Sherra did not like the look in his eyes. She nodded. "Well then...if he bids it." he bowed very deep, mockingly, and then turned to leave the room.

With that done, Sherra went about creating the girl's morning sup. She made eggs and bacon, fruity buns and crispy potato hash with ham mixed into it. Finally, with a tankard of freshly made orange juice, she headed out for the girl's room.

When she arrived, Emma was already up and making her bed. Sometimes Sherra would find her doing small chores through out the day. Sherra wasn't sure if it was an attempt to lighten any anger from Bertrand or Lucas, or if it was just something she did to keep her mind off of things. At her arrival though, Emma stopped what she was doing and smiled.

"That s-smells good," she mumbled, peering closely at the cart.

Sherra laughed. "I am glad you think so." she gestured her to the table set by the window. "Come, let us break our fast." she set the girl with a good amount, really wishing to put some meat on her bones, and sat down to watch quietly as she ate. Sometimes the poor girl ate with such abandon you would she was gluttonous, but other times she ate so slowly and so little it was as if she had the stomach of a little mouse. Today, thankfully, was not one of the later. She ate all provided to her, and happily.

"I was thinking Emma..." the girl looked up from her plate, cheeks puffed with food. Sherra suppressed a giggle. "...would you tell me of your home?"

Emma's eyes widened and she swallowed, almost fearfully. "W...why?"

"I would just like to know more about you," she said, leaning back as she sipped at her tea.

Her eyes refocused on something on her plate. "I...there's nothing to t-t-tell."

"Come now, surely there was—"

"It wasn't m-my home," she muttered. "I...I wasn't welcomed there."

"That cannot be true," Sherra said, and reached across the table to touch her hand. "You must listen to me Emma...you are a joy that no one could reject. I know, in my heart, that your family loves you. The tricky and cruel part of life, of family, is that not all of the time they know the right thing to say, and often times they fight and they say things they do not mean. That is family though, one that could fight one minute and love you the next. You just need to have faith in them."

"If they loved me," she mumbled. "I wouldn't be here..."

Sherra's eyes widened and she leaned back, at a loss for words. She looked away. "You will see Emma...one day."

The rest of the day went on very quietly, and slowly. As suggested to her, Sherra had the princess do daily therapy and exercise. Emma did not like it one bit, not for the pain it caused, but especially not for the memories it brought back. She complained like something else, too, and Sherra couldn't stop laughing. Eventually, she conceded and she did as she was asked. It was strange to see this meek little thing try to do more than walk, as just a minute into the work, she was exhausted, breathing as if she had rune miles. Her flesh was pale, and she was trembling.

"You certainly are rather weak," Sherra acknowledged pitifully as she inspected the girl during her break. Emma's breathing was still rather wild. "And you said your uncle had been training you? Heavens...it is as if you never trained all your life."

"He t-t-tried," she said after a big gulp of water. "I...I c-c-couldn't do anything else b-but his forms."

Sherra nodded. That much was clear. It was as if the girl couldn't breath quite right when she did strenuous activity. "Well, no matter. We will have you in good health, soon. It will just take dedication and patience."

"What...what if I can't?" she asked, finally coming off the exhaustion.

Laughing, Sherra patted her cheek. "You do not need to worry about that. I have told you earlier...I have seen this Sand Fever before, though I know it by another name." she shuddered at recalling all of the names. "You are not terminal, that much is clear, so I will have you do what others in your condition did. You will find an improvement to life from it, I'm sure of it."

"if...if you say so."

"Good," she chirped. "Now, five more minutes of rest and back at it you go."

Emma sighed.

•••••••••••

Sherra had made sure the princess had ample time to exercise. She had her walk for an hour, rest shortly, and return to walking. On the third set, she had Emma jog as far as she could, rest, and repeat. It was only then, when Emma nearly collapsed, that Sherra decided not to risk it any further. She brought her back to the castle and let her rest a bit longer, making sure of course to have her drink a lot of water, and then she brought up a nice, hot bath for her.

It was the thing that excited Emma. The girl did love her baths.

"Easy now," Sherra said as Emma hurried into the hot water. "You could slip and hit your head." Emma didn't seem to hear as she submerged her body into the toasty depths of the large basin. She smiled and leaned against the wooden frame with a sigh. "Were you even listening to me, dear?" Sherra laughed.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled sheepishly, diving a bit deeper into the water until the water reached over her neck.

"Well, no matter." Sherra rolled her eyes, playfully. "Once you are done here, we can put some medicated pulp on your muscles and your arm, if you want."

Emma thanked her and went about her washing. It was kind of strange how much the girl scrubbed her body and lathered her hair, the way she did it was so very gentle. Sherra sat down on a nearby chair and waited patiently. She knew that Emma enjoyed very long soaks.

Finally, when she was done, Sherra helped her to dry. Emma winced when the towel touched her arm. Although it was healing very nicely, it was still a very sensitive area for Emma and she could not tolerate it being touched with pressure. "I'm sorry," the woman offered quietly, moving to the secondary towel she had draped on the girl's head. She scrubbed it against her hair comically, and Emma giggled.

"I can do th-that," she reached up to take the towel.

"Oh," Sherra laughed. "Well then, pardon me." she went back to her seat and waited for Emma to dry herself and clothe herself. However, when the girl lifted the attire up, her face had turned white as egg shell. "What is the matter?"

"I...I can't w-wear these," she all but cried. In her hands was a male's blouse. "I...I can't."

This again. Sherra was determined to find out the cause of this attire rebellion when she had no other options. "Why in heavens not? You have limited girly clothing, so until I can buy you more—"

"I can't!" she shouted, tears burning in her eyes. "Please..."

Sherra leaned forward to take her hands, letting the shirt fall to the floor. "Alright Emma, alright. I won't make you wear it...but I need to know why."

Her pale eyes held Sherra's, and the tears fell. "Lucas...he...he will hurt me."

It was clear by the girl's tone that the prince had told her so, and the insinuation of what he would do to her could easily be heard from her words. It was enough to sicken Sherra. All of this time, and she had no idea. "I see..." she stood and brushed a hand over the girl's cheeks, to rid her of her tears. "Then if that is the case, then let me see what I have lying about for you."

Emma rubbed at her eyes. "Really?"

"of course," she gathered her things and went to the door. "I will be right outside, wait here."

Of course, when Sherra closed the door behind her, she felt a little anxious. She searched the girl's drawers, and the small chest under the bed, but all that was there were male clothing. With a bit of panic, she opened the door to the closet. Nothing. And there was nothing of use in any of the drawers or chests, and it meant a choice Emma would not like.

Sherra tried to head back to the washing room but a knock on the door drew her attention. Who stood before her was not a maid or any such, but Barkov. His face was set in a nasty glare. Behind him, several men carrying boxes.

She was so startled by his appearance, she stepped back. "Barkov!" she looked behind him, and saw that her son or husband was nowhere to be seen. "Heavens, you scared me!"

"I know what scared you woman, and it wasn't me," he snarled, shoving her out of the way. The other soldiers piled into the room, depositing the boxes lazily in the center of the room. "I have gathered your item list, now I expect to be left alone until I am actually needed. I am no carrier."

Sherra, thinking how it was such great timing, smiled. "Of course...well, until I need you again." his eyes burned. "I am forbidden from leaving the castle, after all." that deflated a lot of his anger, as it had come from Bertrand himself. This man seemed to respect his king greatly, and for what reasons Sherra could not comprehend. Deciding though not to greatly prickly his pride and anger, she offered him a thank you.

He scoffed and turned to leave. For a minute longer, the men deposited boxes until they began to file out. Sherra, noticing that something rather big was missing, grabbed one of the lad's arms to stop him. "I had a piano on the list...was it not bought?"

He shook his head. "That's not it, your majesty, it was bought. It will be brought up soon." she thanked him and let him go on his way. The first thing she needed to do was find some clothing for Emma. She tore the boxes open, going through at least five of them before she came upon the clothing. She was rather surprised by how well Barkov did. The clothing was actually decent, pretty even. He must have had a woman help him, she thought, grabbing a knee high billowed dress. It was a rusty red color, very solemn in its tones, and yet very pretty. She hoped the princess would approve.

When she brought it in, Emma's eyes shined happily for a moment. She took it and felt the fabric, a small pretty smile on her face. "Do you like it?" Sherra asked.

"It...it is pretty." she looked up at the woman. "Thank you."

It took Emma only a few minutes to dress and brush her hair. It was usually held in a loose and puffy pony tail, but today she let it fall about her shoulders. It was the one thing, it seemed to Sherra, that she enjoyed about herself. That beautiful green hair that shone like platinum under sunlight.

"Look at you," Sherra said, smiling, as Emma bent at the waist to fix the creases in her dress. "You look so beautiful."

Emma looked at her, questioningly. "I...I do?"

"Why would I say something that isn't true?" she giggled when Emma's cheeks went red. "Now let us go unbox everything I had bought for you. And we must be sure it is all put away neatly."

They went into the main room quietly, though a few minutes into their work Sherra began to hum a gentle song. Within the hour, they had stored everything away neatly. All of Emma's new clothes were folded and set into the dressers, and whatever else she had was stored in the chest beneath her bed. The new means of distraction Sherra had thoughtfully included were stored on shelves and on top of dressers, ranging from all sorts of little instruments to tiny music boxes. There were of course dozens and dozens of new books and puzzles for her to read and complete, and even a chess board.

Emma was so smitten she hugged Sherra and cried. The woman patted her back gently. "Oh sweety, don't cry. It was nothing, really, I just want you to be as happy as you can be while you are here."

Emma, sniffling, hugged her tighter. "I love it, thank you."

"Oh!" Sherra suddenly shouted, startling the girl. She detached herself from the princess and dug through one of the boxes, while Emma watched. "That reminds me...the special gift." she held out a small book, small but rather thick. "This is for you."

She accepted it with uncertainty, but when she turned it over to read the title, her tears came back. It was Ladio's novella, the one Alexander had given her. This copy was practically new, and it of course was not his copy, but she hadn't finished it. She sat the book aside to hug Sherra again.

It was a peaceful thing to give her some distraction, some happiness, but the reaction from the book was odd. It made Sherra wonder what was so important about it. Instead of asking though, she hugged the girl back and then let her go.

"Why don't you read it while I organize these boxes for pickup?" Emma was more than happy to go to her little spot beneath the window and read.

After an hour or so, and with the boxes stacked neatly beside the door for soldiers to pick up, Sherra went to sit down and relax. Her lower back was starting to ache, and her feet were so sore. She sighed heavily and glanced over at Emma. She was lying on her back beneath the window, reading still. She looked as if she had stepped outside of the horrid little world she lived in now.

It is all I can do, she thought sadly, but I hope I can at least keep her distracted from it all.

A knock on the door drew her attention, and that of Emma. She sat up immediately, setting aside her book. It was clear that she was frightened. As Sherra got to her feet, she beckoned to the princess to stay there, and went to the door.

Standing outside was a small group of men, two of which were soldiers. Behind them, the piano. It was rather small, but a piano all the same. Grateful it was not her son, she moved out of the way for them and looked over at Emma. "The piano has arrived at last."

Emma was up quickly to inspect it after the men wrangled it through the doors. Everyone was thankful for the double wide door frame, then. The princess ran her hand over the finish. It was made of oak and was as smooth as glass. Her eyes filled with merriment. "It's so b-beautiful."

"We have one like this in the main foyer," Sherra told her. "It is of course much larger, but given that your room is only so big and the door...well, it is still quite a piano."

"It is amazing," she smiled, looking up at the woman with shining eyes. "Can...I mean...may I try it?"

"That is why it was bought, for you."

And so Sherra helped to set it up, and look through the top (for Emma could barely reach!) for the small sample sheets the merchant included. Once she gave that to Emma, she adjusted the seat and went to sit down as Emma took her spot in front of the piano. The girl fidgeted with the sample sheet for a minute, looking more and more displeased with it by the second, before finally setting it aside with an agitated puff.

"What is the matter?" she had asked.

"It is boring," she said, chewing her lip as she thought on a proper replacement. Sherra relaxed into her seat and waited. After a moment, Emma began to play. The sound of it began soft and slow, methodical. The pace remained gentle for a good minute, until the pace changed rapidly. When it finished, Emma was smiling and Sherra was clapping.

"That was fantastic Emma! I have never heard something so beautiful."

Emma giggled and readjusted herself to begin again. It was fast pace and each stroke was heavy and theatrical, like it was a song for some mad dance. By the time that Emma finished the peace, she was breathing rather hard. She began to laugh as she leaned away from the keys. Sherra stood, clapping.

"What a beautiful show!" she stopped clapping. "Wherever did you learn to play like that, Emma? You play like a master!"

Emma's cheeks took on such a charming shade of red as she looked away. "I learned while I was at Thamasa."

"Who taught you?"

Emma's smile faded. "I learned in Cambidge academy...but my father would help me, sometimes."

"Well, I bet your father is a wonderful pianist too."

The quiet came upon them quickly. It was clear without asking that Emma did not want to continue talking about it if her father was involved, so Sherra let it go. "Could you play me another?" she asked, finding her spot in the seat once more. Emma hesitated. "Oh please, I would so very love to hear another."

She chewed her lip for a moment and then nodded. "Okay...one more." she took a few seconds to compose herself and began again. This one was slow and sad, and solemn. A few minutes into the piece, Sherra saw the tears building in the girl's eyes and was going to get up, to stop her, but decided against it. By the time the end notes dulled into the air, Emma could not hide her tears. She covered her eyes and cried.

Sherra was at her side immediately, holding her. "Sweet girl," she mumbled, tightening her hold. She tried to say something else, but the words escaped her. Instead, she continued to hold the princess.

•••••••••••

It was a quiet day. His father had been going to the laboratories every day for the past fortnight. It was not unusual for him to be excluded from his father's work, but in this he thought he had gained some ground, some respect. He had executed his father's plans perfectly and brought the girl to him through their encounter, and yet now he was in the dark, yet again. If that wasn't enough, his mother did everything in her power to keep him away from the princess. It was already too long since he had seen her, felt her...tasted her. It was beginning to irritate him.

At the moment he was in the dining hall, mindlessly sipping at his morning tea, thoughts wild, thoughts of her. He didn't notice that his brother waltzed right into the room until he was trying to get away. Lucas sat aside his cup and smirked toward Erik.

"Why...if it isn't my little brother."

The boy froze in his step and turned to face him. "Lucas..."

"You have made yourself rather scarce as of late," he said, approaching his brother, eyes scanning the lad's paling face. "Tell me...what has preoccupied you so thoroughly?"

Erik's eyes met his. "I just...I don't want to be involved in it all, Lucas. You and father promised me that if I—"

"Do you think that I desire to share her with you?" he asked, annoyed. "If I could, I would take her someplace and have her all to myself, but alas...I must share." he stressed that last part, eyes burning. Erik looked at him with a strange expression.

"You do know that she doesn't..." he hesitated. "It doesn't matter...we have done our damage, but I can't be party to more of it."

Lucas scoffed. "Father is right about one thing...you are nothing but a frightened mouse. Emma could never fall for you."

He watched as something strange crossed his little brother's expression. It sort of looked like...pity. It ate at him. "Whatever Lucas..." he turned and left the prince alone.

It was unacceptable that, of all people, his little brother could disregard him so easily, and pity him. He stormed from the dining hall, seething. If it came down to him, he and his father would be stripped to the flesh and discarded like the old trash that they were, and his mother! That worthless woman...why he would enjoy feeding her to dogs!

Let them all mock, he thought, brooding as he mindlessly wandered the halls. I will be the one in the end still standing.

A sudden noise stopped him dead in his tracks. It carried down the hall, serene and painful. Lucas listened closely. It is coming from her wing, he realized, suddenly very drawn to it. The sound was carrying down the hall, its notes sorrowful and deep. He made his way slowly to the source, very much soaking in the sound of it. A piece of him knew who was playing it, he had heard about her skills during his time at that dreadful academy, but he had never heard her play before. But when he walked into her room, not yet detected by the two within, he was still surprised. The piece was played so well, so ethereal in its composition.

And then she stopped playing and his mother got up to take her into her arms. "Sweet girl," his mother said, and he could tell she was on the verge of tears herself. Lucas felt a wave of anger rush him suddenly, but it was quickly replaced with jealousy. Why did Emma feel so secure in his mothers arms, the same very woman would who would cower before her husband and let him beat her children? Did not Emma see that a path of security, of safety, was with him and only him?

He approached, quietly. His mother saw him first, and her flesh went white and she held Emma tighter. The girl seemed to understand something was wrong simply from that, and pulled away, confused. When her eyes caught him, terror seized her. Sherra let her go to stand, protectively in front of her.

"What do you want, Lucas?"

His eyes stayed on Emma. "I simply wished to enjoy the company of the pianist." he tried to impart the feelings he had now to the princess with his eyes. "I had no idea you were so talented, Emma." surprise gripped him when he saw her trembling, and then he was annoyed yet again. Fear of him? The nerve!

"You need to leave," she said, almost letting her anger out.

Lucas turned his eyes to her now, eyes burning. "I will not tell you again to stay out of my business, mother."

"How dare you speak to me like—"

Lucas had enough. He took her by the arm and yanked her out of the way, hard. She stumbled a bit, but managed to retake her balance. Lucas knelt before Emma, aware that his mother had run out of the room, presumably to get his father. Emma had leaned so far away from him she was practically against the piano.

"Please," she cried. "I...I d-d-didn't do anything."

He frowned. "I know that, my love," he reached for her cheek and she pulled away, quickly. He did not let it break him from his attempt. "I simply wished to be in your presence. I have missed you so terribly." Emma's eyes went beyond him, fearfully, and then back to him. "Would you play me a song?" She shook her head, and he frowned. "You would play for my mother, though?" he stood. "Tell me...why must you fight my affections? Why must you be so cruel to me?"

Emma started to cry. "I...I don't know..." it was clear she really did not know. Lucas knew she had her difficulties, those "issues" that people at the academy had called her a freak for.

He reached for her again, but this time she could not back away any further. He took her by the back of her head, gently, and brought her head forward, so that his forehead touched hers. "All is well, my gentle love, I know you have difficulties understanding people and situations sometimes." he kissed her forehead and she pulled free of his grasp, lifting her hands defensively between them. He ignored it. "If you would give us a chance," he stood. "I think you would come to see that we are great for each other, perfect even."

He held a hand out to her, smiling. "Give me a chance. Let me show you that we fit well." Emma glanced at his hand quickly, fearfully, and then looked away.

Just then Sherra charged into the room, Bertrand at her heels. "Lucas! Step away from her this instance!" his mother shouted as she stormed up to the girl, to protect her. Bertrand quietly continued into the room, and stood a foot or so behind his son. His arms were crossed and his expression unreadable.

"I have warned you once," he snarled. "This is the last time that I will deal—"

"Lucas," his father cut in, and Lucas turned to look at him. "Have I not made myself clear about the girl? Punishment is to be dealt by my hand alone."

"I was not here to punish her!" he snapped. "I am here to simply enjoy her company."

Bertrand turned his gaze to Emma, and she stiffened like a rock under his gaze. "Sherra...explain to me why you decided not to inform me the wench was healed?"

"Bertrand, she's still not—"

"Quiet!" his voice silenced them all. "I do not care if her health isn't up to your standards, woman. I was clear when I told you that you must inform me as soon as she is capable of movement of her own."

"I know, but she's—"

"No more excuses!" he swung his arm forward, at her, to silence her. "You think you can lie to me about this bitch and yet ask me to save her from your son?"

"No! Bertrand, she's still too weak, that is all, and your...our son takes things too far!"

"Too far?" he repeated, eyes darkening. "I will show you too far."

Lucas stepped in front of his father. "I will not allow you to hurt her."

Bertrand laughed. "Boy, do not think yourself a giant when you stand before a titan." he took his son by the shoulder. "I will punish your mother by allowing you free reign with the girl."

Sherra dropped to her knees in front of her husband. "Please Bertrand, I'm so sorry. Do not allow her to get hurt on my account, please...I'm begging you."

He looked at her scornfully. "Perhaps next time you will not challenge me." and then he grabbed her by the arm and started to drag her out of the room. Emma gave a frightful cry and got off the piano seat to cower away in a corner.

"Bertrand! Please!" Sherra cried, unable to free herself from his grip. "Please don't do this!" but then he slammed the door closed behind them.

Lucas turned to look at the girl in question. She dropped into the corner of the room, wrapping her arms around her head protectively. He approached her softly. "Emma...I will not hurt you, if you do not fight me." he knelt before her again and took her hand. She tried to struggle free of his grip, but he held firm. "I am sorry about before, you just..." he sighed. "You defied me so much and I had lost my temper. I promise I will not raise my hand to you, not unless I absolutely must. For now...let us enjoy each other's company. I promise nothing more will be done." He took her face and made her look at him.

"I...I don't want to m-make you angry."

He gritted his teeth. "If that were so you wouldn't defy me here, now would you?" Her eyes widened. "But fear not...I know my mother has poisoned you against me, but I will cure you of that eventually." he let her go, though only after he brushed her cheeks with his hand. "Let me show you that I can be good for you, please."

•••••••••••

Emma knew he was angry, even if he said he wasn't. She could see it in his eyes, and hear it in his tone. He was giving her an option in it all just for show. She knew if she said no to him, he would hurt her. She kept thinking back to Sherra's words, to give in just a little to Bertrand and Lucas, just to avoid the worst of the pain. The thought of it terrified her though.

"Emma," he said, eyes narrowing. Her heart stopped for half a second before she hesitantly reached for his hand. The anger and impatience that had clouded his face immediately melted away into a handsome, bright one. "I am thankful for the time, my love." he lifted her to her feet effortlessly, still smiling. "First, I will take you to the gardens. There I am sure you will find enjoyment."

She didn't know how to tell him she had seen the garden already, and feared even doing so, so she ducked her head to avoid his eyes.

The walk through the castle Emma could feel all of the eyes of the servants and soldiers on them, on her in particular. It felt as if she were being burned through. Lucas kept his arm around hers, tight as if he were frightened she'd run away from him. And she knew she might if he had let go. He walked briskly too, with his long legs, making her keep up, which began to hurt very quickly.

Lucas didn't seem to hear the servants' whispering as they passed, but Emma could hear it all.

"I knew she was just pretending," and "Just like all the other whores, she's on his arm now." and "Another toy for the prince."

Emma wasn't entirely sure what a whore was, but she had her suspicions. It made her want to crawl back to her room and hide. Why did she have to be subjected to Lucas and all his anger, as well as the vile words of others? She tried to tell herself she could hurry through whatever this was with Lucas, to avoid his anger, and be back safely in her room, waiting for Sherra. But she knew that with Lucas, it wouldn't ever be so simple.

"We are here," he said, opening the double doors to the garden, all without relenting his hold on her. Emma was dragged forward into the sunlight by the overtly ecstatic Roskovian prince. Guards turned and stared, some with amused expressions others with something Emma could not discern. "Isn't it wonderful?" Emma fought so hard to have the words form, but in the end, she said nothing. "I know how much you love gardens," he said, as if he didn't hear her. "In Figaro, at that blasted academy, you spent a lot of your time in them."

It stung her to think that she had hid away in the gardens away from her bullies, and to get a peak at him. It stung and it sickened her. She only hoped he didn't know that was part of the reason she had hid away in them, otherwise he would press her. All she had felt then was spoiled now, and she could not stand the sight of him. He disgusted her, but what's more, when he was near she disgusted herself.

"Come, let us find a seat." Emma glanced back towards the doors, hoping to see Sherra, but there was nothing for her. Lucas halted before a slab of marble and forced her onto it. In some way, it was a bit relieving to sit after such a long walk, but knowing this would not be the end, the fear replaced the pain. "Good. Let me...hold on." he turned and whistled for one of the soldiers. The man approached hesitantly. "Tell a servant to fetch us some food and wine."

"Yes, my prince." the soldiers' eyes went to Emma for a hot second before he hurried off.

"If they know what is good for them, they will not idle," he said with such an expression that Emma realized he didn't care that he was threatening people for not moving fast enough.

She felt ice cold. What...what if I don't do something fast enough?

"Emma, my love, you are trembling," he sat beside her and wrapped an arm around her. She tensed up. "Let me hold you...it will warm you."

"I'm...I'm okay," she managed, stammering. He laughed and held her tighter. Was there no way to get free of him?

"You will always be a shy thing, won't you?" he mumbled, but just as he was done talking, two servants were rolling carts into the garden. It was only then that Lucas had let go of her and to hurry towards the servants. Emma quickly glanced around, seeking a way out, far from his side, but there were guards everywhere.

Stupid! What if I ran off...? I couldn't get away, even if I could walk the distance. She felt tears return. Sherra, please...help me.

He returned to her side with a bowl of grapes and a glass of wine, smiling. "It is well that they did not dawdle," he said, sitting down beside her. He held the glass out to her and she refused. His eyes narrowed just a bit before relaxing back into that strange, happy expression. "I do suppose it is an acquired taste." he drank at the glass with abandon. It was empty within seconds. Emma felt that anxiety growing.

Suddenly, he held the bowl out to her. "At least eat something. I often hear mother saying you need to keep your energy and health about you. I would be sadden if I were the reason it was neglected."

It was a trap. If she accepted anything from him, he would use it against her, though she knew refusing him would anger him as well. But which anger was more worth experiencing over the other? His anger out of denying him this...whatever it was, or anger that he felt misled by her? Sherra had warned her that her son, and her husband, had particular things that angered them more severely than other things, and being misled or embarrassed was one of Lucas' weakest nerves.

"I'm...I'm not h-hungry."

"Nonsense," he said, his voice controlled, but Emma could see the way his knuckles went white against the grip of the bowl. "You haven't broken your fast yet, have you? You need to eat." he forcefully put the bowl in her hands. "Eat." It wasn't a suggestion now, or a request. He sounded as if he were grinding rocks in his mouth. Emma swallowed back a cry, for she knew the temper around the corner that was about to be released upon her, and took a few grapes. When she ate them, the expression on his face did not relent. It was unsaid, but clear. She fearfully ate more and more, until the bowl was emptied and he was taking it back from her hands, either pleased or annoyed, it was hard to tell.

When he did not strike her with harsh words or his fists, Emma relaxed. There was something about him today, something...off.

In the time since he lasted assaulted her, he had been visiting in the mornings and nights. It was a rare enough thing, of course, but each visit was an enormous insight into his particularities, his temper, his desires. Emma was quickly learning of some ways to dissuade anger, but it wasn't a perfect science. Often times he knew she was trying, and lashed out at her. It was only thanks to Sherra, and her reminder that he was forbidden from hurting her, that kept his fists at his side.

What did she have now to protect her? Bertrand had taken away that safety. Lucas was free to do whatever he wanted now.

He let that silence linger for a moment before turning his eyes to her. "I am going to ask you a question," she froze. "And I expect a simple answer." She swallowed hard, frightened. "Has my mother been trying to turn you against me?"

A confirmation of his question was close on her lips, but it withered away into a no suddenly. The truth was that his mother had nothing to do with it. It was clear though what answered he expected, which he desired, and which would invoke anger...violence. "N-no..."

His eyes held hers, questioningly. "You would not lie to me, would you?" Trembling, she shook her head. He laughed. "You are not a very good liar, my dear love." he stood. "It is alright though, as I understand you do not want to speak ill of my mother. She cares for you, after all, and you have always been someone to be kind to those who do not deserve it. I know in your heart you recognize the wickedness in her."

Emma knew that telling him she could find no fault in Sherra would break him, if all else did not, she knew that would. It was sickening to not speak her mind though, especially about someone she loved. She said nothing, looking away, toward the walls of flowers.

It was if he sensed her disinterest in the subject. "Let us not speak of it any further though," he said, and Emma wondered if he realized she barely said ten words this entire time. This was all him. "Tell me and tell me truthfully...do you like it here?"

It happened so fast that she didn't think it through. "No." and when she realized her error, she tensed up and closed her eyes, ready for the beating.

"Yes," he said after a long moment of considering. "I do not like this garden either." Emma breathed uneasily, nervous, and loosened her muscles. He had misunderstood her. The gods spared her his wraith. "I have been meaning to tell father to have it redone, but he insists it stays as it is...as we have found it."

As...as they found it? Emma looked around, confused. The castle did look ancient and now she was feeling foolish to not have noticed this was not a century or so construction.

"Well, I say damn him," he grumbled. "When I wear the crown, it will change. It will all change." Emma couldn't help but hear something ominous in his words, something so cruel or out there that it was incomprehensible. "I will stand for different." she knew 'different' was not what anyone else might have meant. He reached suddenly for her hand and gripped it. Emma tightened her hand into a fist. "Tell me, my love, what would you change? What would you want?"

I would see you die, she thought, feeling something stir in the back of her mind that was not entirely unfamiliar. She kept her thoughts to herself and shook her head. He tightened his grip, and the message was clear. "Come now, do not feel unable to share your thoughts with me. I could not bare it if you were not honest with me."

No, she thought, steering herself from the outburst she had wanted to have for so long. No...it will not do me any good. "Nothing..."

His eyes narrowed and he reached for her neck, pulling her forward. There was a deep seated anger in his eyes when he made her look at him. "I do not tolerant dishonesty!"

Emma felt tears building in her eyes. There was no way out of this. If she spoke and told him lies, he would be furious. If she spoke and told him her honest feelings, he would be furious. If she didn't say anything, he would be furious. She let her tears fall. "I...I can't. You...you will be angry."

"If anything is angering me right now," his voice sounded strained, annoyed. "It is you refusing to answer me."

A pressure built in her head, and it felt so familiar, but it faded just as quickly as it had arrived. If this was how it has to be... "Wh-what would I change?" a fire burned in her. "I w-would make you be b-b-better to Sherra." his eyes were intense, and she felt that fear slowly starting to ebb into anger. "...wh-what do I want?" it was obvious, how could he be so blind? "I want to g-go home! I want to be f-f-far away from you and your f-father!"

The aftermath of her outburst was one of quiet. The contemplation worn so clearly on the prince's face drove that anger of hers back into a deep pool of fear. What had she done? Finally he spoke. "You do not truly feel this way..." his voice was quiet. "...it was my mother, wasn't it? She put you up to this farce."

Realizing the potential danger she just put on Sherra, Emma knew her only way of saving the woman was to offer herself up. "N-no! I...I...it was me!"

"No more of your lies," he snarled, standing. "Why do you cling to her so?!" he demanded, grabbing Emma by the arm and lifting her up to her feet. "Tell me! Is it because you crave attention so much you are willing to take whatever you can get?!"

His hand was tightening further and further on her arm. The pain was becoming unbearable. "No! That's n-not it, I...I just love her."

He shoved her away from him and she fell hard into the dirt and gravel. She grimaced as the stones dug into her flesh but did not dare to move, to incur more of his wrath. He puffed and puffed as he paced a short line in front of her, eyes wild and hands tightened at his sides.

"I do nothing but shower you with attention, with gifts and love, and all you can do is speak of that wretched woman?!" he stopped, and stamped a boot hard into the ground. Emma trembled. "Why?!" he demanded, and to Emma's confusion, tears burned in his eyes. "Why do you forsake me and my love?! Why do you choose her over me?!" at her hesitation, for she was completely lost, he threw an arm toward her. "Answer me!"

"You..." his eyes burned into her. "you...you hurt me."

At her answer, the tears stopped and the furious expression began to lift into something else, something far more worrisome. "What did you say?"

Emma tried but failed to hold her tears at bay. "You hurt me!" she shouted. "All you do is hurt me!"

"I hurt you..." he repeated under his breath. "You dare accuse me of such a thing when you spit in my face, and disregard me as if I mean nothing?!" he reached to take her by the arm and pulled her roughly up. "You who acts wantonly yet turns me away at the slightest touch?!" he drew her against him, using all his strength to hold her to him. She squirmed painfully. Her arms and ribs felt ready to snap. "You are a harlot, to do this to me! When I love you so!" he moved one of his arms up, around her neck, to keep her head against his chest.

The pain was so terrible, and she was finding it harder to breathe. She struggled to push herself away. "I...I c-can't breathe!" but he held her even tighter.

"If I must drag that woman down the streets or burn her at a stake, I will! She will not have you! You are mine!"

Breath came with greater struggle. Her arms were too weak to try anymore. She breathed out another plea. "Please...!" and only then did he let her go. She fell back, choking for air.

"You do not belong to her!" he cried. "You and I...we are one! We love each other!" Emma was too weak to argue, and she knew even doing so would make this worse for her. "Get to your feet." the tone had stifled back down to his controlled tones, but the anger still lingered, like a looming shadow. "I said get to your feet!" he struggled back to her feet, coughing. "Get to your room." she hesitated and he slapped her. "Move!"

Emma hurried away.

•••••••••••

Bertrand had shoved her into their room, which was just one door down from the princess' room. He stood in the door way, eyes glowering at her from under his bushy eyebrows. "Let this be a lesson you will not forget, or so help me the next time you defy me, you will have wished you both died today." and then he slammed the door behind him. When she ran forward to try and free herself, she found that it was locked.

She banged on the door. "Bertrand! Let me out of here, right now!" but there was no answer. She leaned her head against the door and closed her eyes, against tears. It was because of her that Emma had to endure Lucas. If she had just told Bertrand...

No, if I had told him, she would have been tortured...but is that any different from Lucas? She sighed and went to sit on the edge of her bed. Why can't I help my children? Why can't I ever be of help? She sniffed and wiped at her tears. Memories of her sons when they were younger suddenly came to her. Little Lucas had been the charm of the ship when he was born, and as he grew older, the women said he would be the most handsome prince of them all. He had been quiet even then, but there was kindness in the way that he talked to others. Now he was quiet and cold, and always angry. Her little Eric had been loud and obnoxious to most, for how he wailed, but Sherra adored him. And when he grew, Bertrand had begun calling him a spoiled little princess, and it had stuck with all around them. And, soon enough, even Lucas had come to belittle his little brother in the ways their father did.

It was the beginning of their turn. Eric would be beaten for disobedience and what was perceived as feminine behavior, and Lucas received attention for his abusive language and behavior. It made Eric a mumbling and terrified boy and Lucas into a strong, quiet, calculative monster.

I should have been there for them, she thought, shamefully. If I had stepped between them and Bertrand, they would be the same boys. The loving little ones...and although she knew, and appreciated, the fact that Eric was nothing like his brother, being broken into that state was just as unfair as allowing Lucas to become like his father. She had failed them, her own flesh and blood.

That's when she heard the door open and close to Emma's room. Sherra hurried to her feet and went to the door. "Who is there?" but all that came was the sound of heavy foot steps and then the door opened and closed again. Her stomach began to sink. She knew it was Lucas. "Lucas, please! Let me out!" she banged on the wood until her hands hurt. "Lucas! Open this door!" but he was not listening, and she could hear his voice through the walls. It was muffled, but she knew it was him. Tears burned painfully in her eyes as she realized he was in there with Emma.

A knock on the door took her attention. She took it as her chance and when it opened, she lunged forward. It wasn't until the last second that she saw it was Johl, and slid to a stop. He reached out to catch her by the arms and steady her. The door remained open behind him as he helped her back to the bed.

"Sherra, please...that was dangerous, not just for you, but the baby too. If you had fallen...Bertrand would have me skinned alive. These checkups of ours must go accordingly."

"Johl, oh thank the gods you are here! You must help me get into her room, so I can—"

"I cannot do that," he mumbled, squeezing her hands. "And you know, deep down, why you shouldn't either."

"You know what he is doing to her, how can I just sit here and—"

"Sherra," he said with more force, even as his eyes held hers with a gentler look. "If you try to stand between him and the girl, you know how he will react. You know what will happen to her. It is cruel, but what she will be made to endure now will pale against what he could and will do to her if you try to stop him."

"You want me to just sit here and let her be abused?" tears streamed down her face. "Johl...I...I can't."

"You must," he said, letting her hands go to reach to brush hair from her face. "She will not survive Bertrand and Lucas' anger if you keep encouraging her to deny them...if you help her to deny them. I know it is a horrible thing to do, but you must step aside...you must teach her to comply. If only until the time comes that she can be free." She reached out to hug him, hiding her face in his neck as she sobbed. He held her close. "We are without power, without leverage...but it won't be that way forever, you just have to keep your eyes open for it."

"I should have thrown myself into the sea when I was pregnant with Lucas," she mumbled, letting him go to lean away. "The mercy the world would be granted right now..."

"You know you cannot murder or destroy a life before it has done wrong...before it has caved to darkness."

"It has ruined my child, Johl...there is nothing left in him but hatred and anger."

"Than it is a poison he must endure and overcome, or suffer from and perish. You cannot change him now, he has been lost to all but himself. All you can do is make your life and that of your unborn child safer."

"And leave Emma to them?"

"No," he offered through a small smile. "Sherra the reason I came over was not solely for Bertrand's demand to check on the baby." he reached into the bag hanging from his shoulder and produced a clear bottle of orange looking capsules. He pressed it into her hands. "You need to listen to me and listen carefully..." he glanced back at the door quickly before facing her again. "I know what it is they plan to do and..." he took a breath. "...and if they succeed, it will mean disaster for us all, but even then there is hope. However...we cannot allow her to bear them any fruit. Such a thing would be the end of the world."

Her eyes widened. "...you...you think..."

He shook his head. "It is not within their plans right now, but it will happen eventually and they will use that child just as easily they use her. And we mustn't allow Bertrand the chance to twist another soul to his perversions, not when that soul possesses the might of the Esper race coursing through their veins."

She asked, "What...what do I do?"

"Every two weeks, give her one of those capsules. It will be enough to keep life at bay...whenever you run out, you will let me know during our visits."

She looked down at the capsules through the jar, feeling pity and disgust swarm in her. If it would give Emma a chance, however far down the road it was, to escape...to live. She wiped more tears away. "I will do it."

"You must not let her know," he said, standing. "If she were to let it slip, or it were beaten out of her, it would mean our deaths."

Just then they heard Lucas scream from the other room and before they could even move, something slammed into the wall with so much force the pictures Sherra had hung up fell and shattered across the floor. Sherra's eyes widened. Johl reached out to touch her shoulder as the noises drew quiet again. For a long moment there was nothing, but then they heard Lucas' voice again. Though it was hard to make out, they knew he was yelling at the princess.

Sherra squeezed her eyes shut and turned into Johl's embrace. He held her close. "You must be strong," he whispered to her, as the muffled moans of Lucas carried through the walls. "You must be strong for her."

•••••••••••

Emma had known the look his eyes from the start meant nothing but misery for her, and try as she might, there was nothing she could do to avoid or dissuaded his anger. He had snapped as she thought he would, and now she knew the beatings would come. When she closed the door behind her, her heart was racing painfully in her chest. She went for her dresser quickly, hands trembling. She dug through the small collection of medications and herbs, looking desperately for the sleeping herbs but it was empty. She banged it against the top, for just one leaf, but it was all gone.

Realizing she could not medicate herself out of what was coming, she dropped to her knees before the dresser and covered her eyes, and sobbed. The door opened behind her and closed, and she knew he was there, staring.

When he spoke, his voice was quiet, but forceful. "Stand up." she did not. "I said stand up." she slowly got to her feet, keeping her eyes downcast. He approached slowly. "Undress."

Finally she looked up at him, tears burning in her eyes. "You...you said you wouldn't..."

His eyes narrowed at her. "Undress."

"You p-p-promised!"

He slapped her and she stumbled back into the dresser, rattling it and the wall. "That was before you lied to me...before you scorned me!" when she hesitated to get back to her feet, he back handed her again. She crumbled into a pile on the floor and covered her head, crying. "Get up!" she was too slow to move, so he hit her again. "Get up!" she struggled to her feet, trembling. "I told you that I would not punish you if you did not fight me, if I did not have to! You were defiant and rude, and what comes of that will be your fault!"

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm sorry...!"

"No," he breathed hard, eyes burning with rage. "You aren't, and you won't ever be...not until I have taught you properly." he stared. "Now get undressed." he took a step toward her. "Do not make me tell you again." With a broken sob, she began to discard her clothes into a little pile beside her. When she stood before him only clad in her under garments, he gestured to them. "All of it."

Slowly she drew them off and sat them aside. When his eyes roamed over her body, she covered herself with her arms and shrunk away. He reached forward to remove her arms. "Do not hide your body from me..." in this he sounded gentle, but his hands were squeezing very hard. "It is too beautiful."

Emma's humiliated tears burned down her bruised cheeks as he drew himself close to her, so he could grope at her breasts. His hands were hard and rough. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to stop her tremors. He lowered himself so he could nuzzle her neck and move his hands down her back. "You smell so good," he whispered, his voice like ice. Emma tried to keep her disgust at bay, knowing how he would react. Suddenly he drew her against him and started walking them toward the bed. Emma panicked and pushed at his chest.

"I—I don't want to," she cried, even as he laid her across the bed. "Please."

"You will," he whispered, moving his hands down her arms. "I promise you will."

"It hurts," she sniffled. "Please Lucas..." when he pressed his lips to hers to quiet her, she turned her head away. "Please...!" her sob made him pause for just a second before he leaned away from her. Teary eyed, she looked at him, confused. Was he done? She blinked dumbly at him as he stepped away from the bed. His eyes remained on her, though they did not hint at his thoughts or feelings.

"Get up," he said finally, and quietly. Unwilling to antagonize what seemed to be mercy, she got up, shaking. "Tell me what I have to do...what I have to say..."

Emma's eyes widened. "I...I..." she had no words. He would not accept that there was nothing he could do or say, that she hated him.

"Is it because I have laid with other women?" silent tears ran down her cheeks. His voice tightened with anger, with annoyance. "Is it because of father? Do you...do you prefer him?"

"Wh-what?" she hadn't even thought the king would...now fear tore at her from the thought of it.

"I do not understand," he snarled. "The first time we made love you had been so cooperative! Yet now you shrink away from me as if I am something foul!"

A rage built in her again. "No I-I wasn't!" she trembled now not from fear, but anger. "You hurt me! You...you made me do s-something I didn't want to do! You are foul!" courage soared within her. "I hate you!"

It did not come to her as a surprise when he struck her across the face. She had expected it the moment she had denied his account of that night. It was expected, and she had felt even as he threw her into the wall that the torment and abuse from it was worth the effort she had made. To see the surprise in his eyes, the anger. If she had made him feel even a little of what she felt—all of that scorn and hatred—than she could take his beatings.

"Liar!" he howled, choking her as he held her against the walls. Emma kicked her feet and clawed at his hands. "You are a liar! I do not know why you must lie," he released her then and let her drop to her knees, gasping painfully for air. "but I will not stand for it!" he was clearly trying to contain the last of his anger. The veins on his neck bulged and his face was red like a tomato. He looked ready to split at the seams. "Stand up."

She struggled to her feet, nearly toppling back to the ground had it not been the fury in his eyes that kept her up. "I told you once before that women will know their place...my love for you will not shield you from it. You, of all others, need to learn respect and honor...and obedience." Emma waited for what else he would say, fearing it with all her being. "Undress me."

It surprised her, so much so that she just stood there dumbfounded. He smacked her so hard her ears rang. She slumped into the wall and back down to the floor. "Get up!" he commanded again. "Now!" she used the wall to help herself back to her feet. "Now undress me."

Still clinging halfway to the wall, she shook her head. "No!"

He struck her again and again, lifting her up on his own when she crumbled into a heap. "Do as I command you!"

"No!" she cried and tensed as the next waves of beatings took place.

When he was done, breathing hard, she laid on the floor crying. He had not beaten her as terribly as he had before, but every inch of her was sore and in pain.

He knelt beside her. "You will do as I command, one way or another." he made her look at him. "If you do not, I will find other ways to encourage it. I'll start with my mother," her eyes widened. "Then I will worm my way into Thamasa and take the girl," Emma sobbed. "And if you still defy me then, I will kill those Thamasan dogs. And if you are still the fool," he tightened his grip. "I will hunt your family down like the mongrels they are." he let her go, straightening to his feet. "Do not think to question my resolve. Your brother was foolish enough to do so, and your pathetic slave paid the price for it."

Emma knew who he meant without him even saying her name. The woman had disappeared one day, and not a bit of a trace could be found of her. How did he get into the castle? She closed her eyes, thoughts and prayers extending out to all she loved. Please, she thought to the gods. Do not let them suffer because of me...

"Get up," he said again, and she forced herself up. Her ribs hurt, and her throat felt constricted, but she did not dare question his ability. It was one risk she would never take. She tried to hold his gaze but it was too much. She had missed the triumphant smile spread across his face. "Good. Obedience will yield you rewards, my love. Now, continue." she knew what he meant.

Sniffling, she reached for his shirt. He stood so still it was as if he were a statue, but his eyes kept roaming her, and strangely enough, he looked completely disinterested. When she reached to pull the shirt up, her ribs complained and she recoiled. He caught her arm and held her in place. "I did not order you to stop." She pushed through the pain and removed his shirt. She wasn't sure what to do with it, afraid, so she kept it in her arms and kept her eyes down. "Go on." hesitantly, she sat the shirt on the bed and continued.

•••••••••••

Her fingers were gentle against his skin, soft and unsure. He watched her carefully as she undressed him. Her tears did not stop, but he could not understand why. He had been understanding with her, gentle and all, but she kept scorning him. It was only natural for him to teach her to behave, so why did she have to cry? I have been only patient with you, woman, he thought as she took a step back, the last of his clothes in her arms. She looked so fragile, so alone.

He took the clothes from her, just barely touching her skin, and she recoiled. "I know you are afraid of intimate acts," he whispered as he tossed the clothes aside. "I know that is who you are at your core." she was not looking at him. "That is why I...I will be more controlled this time." he extended a hand toward the bed. "Please, lie down and let me show you that our passions can be a good thing." She eyed the bed, fearfully. "Emma..." he was getting quite annoyed now. Slowly she stepped toward the bed and then turned to face him, eyes still down cast and hands twisting through each other. He reached to take them, startling her. "Lie down..."

It was as if she cracked. "I don't want to," she cried. "Please, I'm sorry f-for earlier...I promise I won't do i-it again."

His eyes narrowed at her. "I am not doing this to you to punish you," he whispered, brushing his hand against her cheek. "I wish to do so because I love you." he ran his hand down her arm. "Now lie down Emma." he guided her with a strong hand to the bed, until she laid beneath him. Her eyes were squeezed shut tightly and her arms clung defensively over her chest. He moved her arms out of the way and knelt to start kissing his way down her throat to her breasts.

Her heart was racing so fast he could feel it against his lips. "Relax," he told her, but it did little to quell her tremors. Ignoring it, he moved his mouth back to hers and began fondling her breasts. He made sure his hands were soft and without the lust he had displayed the last time they were intimate, but she continued to cry, to resist him. He moved his hands down her side to her outer thighs and lifted her further onto the bed, all the while his lips clung to hers.

He tried to quiet her with reassuring words but it didn't seem to reach her. He brushed his hand down her hair and soothed her. "Quiet, my love, I promise you it will not hurt." he kissed her tears. "I will show you, I swear." and yet, when he finally drew himself into her, she let out a heart wrenching sob and tried with all her might to hold him back.

He wrapped his arms around her, to press her against him, as he quickened his pace. "Ssh," he whispered into her ears, against her muffled cries. "I have you now."

•••••••••••

When it was finally over, he laid out along the bed, exhausted. He had not let her go, but instead pressed her against his side in an iron clad hold. His breath came and went steadily, a stark contrast to her wild breathing. She closed her eyes against the shame and the anger and fear, and tried to block out the sound of him falling asleep beside her.

The touch of him, the feel him him on her, the smell of him...how she hated it. She tightened her hands into fists at her sides, determined to keep her outburst to herself this time, to avoid his anger, his lusts. I hate him, she thought, silent and angry tears running down her cheeks. I hate him so much!

And she laid there for what seemed like hours, too afraid, ashamed and uncomfortable to close her eyes even for a second. When he rolled away from her finally, quieted snores leaving him, she finally lifted herself up. Every muscle ached at the movement, and her ribs felt ready to burst, but she kept going.

The floor felt like icicles against her feet. She cringed and pulled them back into the warmth of the bed for a moment before placing them back onto the floor. She used the bed to lift herself up and then carefully walked to the basin room in the far back of the room. The pain in her ribs had worsened by the time she closed the door behind her, but it had been worth it. She escaped him, at least for now.

She made her way to the basin and started to run the hot water. Turning, she went to the long mirror and looked at the reflection. Her body had recovered from the last beating, leaving behind scars, but it was a reflection she did not like. She reached to rub tears from her eyes, shaking. Why... she looked up at her reflection again, into her eyes. Why must I suffer this way?

With a flash of hot anger, she threw her fists into the mirror. She kept pummeling the glass until her hands were torn and bleeding, until the mirror stood shattered before her. What few fragments remained reflected back a person she did not know. With a hiccup of cries, she dropped to her knees, among the shattered glass, and sobbed.

•••••••••••

It took some time before Sherra was seen by someone, and it had surprised her. Her son stood in her door way, messily dressed and looking as if he had seen a ghost. It was so out of the blue, she had forgotten the horrors he had surely done against the girl. "Lucas..." she went to reach for his face, but stopped herself. No, this was not her little Lucas. This was a monster. "...why are you here?"

His eyes held hers. "It is Emma, she has..." he struggled for the right words, and it was clear. "She hurt herself."

Sherra shoved him aside immediately and went to the princess' room. There were clothes on the floor, and the bed tossed. She spared it one angry, disgusted look before searching for the girl. Inside of the basin room, she sat beside a shattered mirror, eyes downcast, lost. Her hands hung limp in her lap, bleeding and torn to shreds.

Sherra gasped and knelt to take her arms. "Gods, Emma! What have you done?!" she hurriedly took a towel from the drawers and wrapped her hands in it. "Gods...why...why did you do this?" but Emma's eyes still looked off, distant and cold. Sherra shook her head and got back to her feet to gather anything she could use. There were a few gauze strips, but that was it. She went back to Emma and helped her to her feet and toward the large sink. When she ran the water over her hands, Emma didn't even flinch. A few pieces of glass were stuck in her hands, but Sherra was too afraid to try and remove them.

"You foolish girl!" she cried, wrapping the gauze around her hands gently, so as to not agitate or dig the glass into her hands any further. "You foolish girl..."

Lucas appeared in the door way. "She will not talk..."

Sherra glared at him. "I wonder why!" he looked at her with strange eyes. "Get Johl!" Lucas did not move. "She needs medical attention, Lucas! Go!" finally, he scoffed and turned away. She could only hope he would do as he was commanded, this once. In the mean time, she smoothed her hand down the girl's hair. "All you have to do is be brave for a little longer, sweetling, just a little longer."

It took a few minutes for Lucas to return with Johl at his heels. A large medical bag hung from his shoulders. When he caught sight of the princess, he knelt down and sat aside the bag. He gently pried the girl's hands out of Sherra's grasp. She gave him some space to work, to go stand at the door.

Johl inspected her hands carefully, brows furrowed, before he looked into the girl's eyes. "Emma...can you hear me?" he brought her face up, but her eyes remained distant. "Emma? Look at me please." she did not move or speak. He sighed and went to his bag. He retrieved some long metal clippers of sorts, a bottle of alcohol, a wheel of thread and a plate of needles. Sherra watched in shock as Johl pried the glass out of the princess' hands and no reaction came from her.

After several minutes, Johl had finished tending to her hands. They were wrapped neatly and yellowed a little from the medicine he had applied to the area. He stood and went back to them.

"In given time, her hands will recover just fine. Thankfully she did not hit any nerves." he glanced back at her and then to them. "As for her state of mind...I can't say."

"What do you mean?" Sherra asked, tearfully.

"People have their limits," he mumbled. "It is clear she is experiencing something, something of the mind...of which I cannot help her with. I am ill equipped for that sort of task."

"What you mean to say is you are incompetent," Lucas snapped. "She is sick...so help her!"

"It isn't that simple!" he said, exasperated. "What ails her is of the mind! We have not come far whatsoever in that field of medicine! What is happening now is out of our control."

Sherra turned immediately on her son and started slapping him. "What did you do?!" she demanded, striking him across the face. He took a step back. "What did you do to her?!"

When she tried to hit him again, he caught her hand. "I am not the cause of this, you wretched woman." he shoved her back some. "Perhaps you need consider your own role in this." and then he stormed away.

Sherra scornfully glared after him, before turning to kneel beside the princess again. "Emma, if you can hear me, I need you to speak to me...please." her she remained as still as a statue. Tearfully she brought the girl into a hug, holding her as tightly as she dared against her. "Please...wake up."

Johl approached. "We should bring her to her bed, let her rest." he went to the door. "I will go back to my laboratory, see if there is anything I can bring for her."

"Johl, wait," she stood. "Thank you." he smiled back at her before leaving.

Sherra hefted the girl up into her arms, and carefully carried her toward the basin. She drained it and restarted it with toasty water. Just warm enough to not chill, but certainly not as hot as the girl usually preferred it. When it was a little over waist height, Sherra stopped it and helped the girl into the water. In truth, a part of her had prayed that the sensation of the water would stir her from her thoughts, but the expression did not shift.

"You are safe now," she whispered to Emma, wetting her down with a small mug of the water. "You will always be safe with me."

With the princess cleaned—for she knew the girl would be upset if she had been put to sleep in such a state—she helped the girl back into the main room and into her freshly made bed. "Gentle, I know," she mumbled when she accidentally brushed the blanket over her hands, even if the girl did not react to it. "Johl will be back...he will know what to do." she knelt to kiss Emma's forehead. "And I will stay with you until you feel strong enough to wake..."

---

Edgar stood on the balcony for hours after the public announcement. It went as one had expected, but the energy it had taken from him to find the courage to say it was daunting. The people were more than pleased with the dismantling of the council, and had roared so happily that it brought a painful realization to him. Had Terra been right so long ago, when their daughter was born? Would the civilians had understood? Would they have accepted her for what she was? He rubbed the tears away. Would she have lived a better life?

I am plagued with indecision, and when I am not, I make the wrong choice.

Terra had left him immediately when her need to stand in as queen was no longer mandatory. He knew she could not stand to be around him still, and it was looking as if the days going by solidified that resentment in her. He had ruined everything, and now even the relationship he had with his wife. Should he have picked his daughter over his son? Was saving them both the wrong choice?

Father, he thought, watching the sun dip below the horizon. I have failed you so thoroughly...I'm sorry.

"Father," his youngest son's voice carried in from the door behind him. "Cambyses has returned...the transfer went well."

"Thank you Benjamin," he kept his eyes on the setting son.

Benjamin lingered. "Father...don't let mother pull away from you so easily. I have made mistakes too, decisions that I can never take back...but I must try. It is the only way to make amends." it sounded as if his son shifted. "Please, do not give up on her so easily."

Edgar chuckled and faced his son. "I could never give up on a woman like your mother," he walked to the door. "Your mother is angry with me though, Benjamin, and I must allow her the space to deal with that feeling. I cannot pressure her."

"No, you can't," he agreed in a mumble. "But neither can you stop trying altogether. Mother has to understand your position, she has to. You had no choice."

"I think, in some way, she knows that," he told his son. "But the loss of her daughter is still too great to overlook, when she thinks I could have done more. And for that...I will bear the shame and responsibility of for the rest of my life."

"It isn't fair," he said, tears in his eyes. "Please...try to talk to her once more father, please. Do not make the same mistakes that I have...do not let her go."

Edgar sent his son off after that, uncomfortable that he had raised the situation between his children so horribly that it had led to such destructive relationships. His son was right though. He could not keep letting Terra steer free of him, not without putting up a fight for her heart. He could not imagine the world without her at his side, without her love. So he gathered his strength and went about the search for his wife.

She was in the northern wing, to his surprise, and sizing up the free quarters available there. The first thought that had crossed him was that she was looking for a room to be free of him, but he had to keep that fear buckled down. What mattered now was salvaging their relationship. He took a deep breath and approached her.

"Go away, Edgar," she snapped, without turning to see him. At times, it almost seemed as if she too possessed sensitive hearing.

"Terra, please...we need to talk about this."

"I do not have time to deal with you," she faced him. "And even if I had, I am too furious with you to stand seeing your face."

Edgar accepted that anger without question. "I understand that Terra...I do." he took a step toward her but she crossed her arms. It was a clear message. He stayed where he was. "Regardless, I must persist. I love you too dearly to let this marriage fall apart...not without fighting with everything that I have. Please, talk with me."

Her eyes widened. "Edgar...I...I still love you." she was disturbed, clearly, by the idea of their marriage ending. "But I am so very angry with you right now."

"That is precisely why you should!" he pleaded. "Please...let me explain it. I know it won't change that I had made a mistake in your eyes, but I need you to understand why I had to."

Her eyes filled with tears. "You do not think I know?" her voice was trembling. "You do not think that I understand?" he was dumbfounded. "But even if I know you had no choice, even if I know you were in a tough position, you have still sent my daughter into the hands of the man who orchestrated her violent rape! And with that knowledge...I can't Edgar, I can't."

His eyes widened, and tears fell down his cheeks. "Terra..."

"No, you will listen to me," she said, crying. "I cannot hate you for what you did because I know you did what you had to to save them both, but neither can I forget the anger in my heart. She was my little baby," her tears came free now, uncontrolled. "She was my everything Edgar, a dream that had come true, and she is lost to me now forever. My sweet little angel, who dared not even harm an ant...with men who will torment her and beat her and rape her. She who questioned our love time and time again...traded by her own father."

He realized then what the problem was, and felt without power, without hope. "Then tell me," he begged. "Tell me what I must do...what I must say...please. I cannot live in a world where you detest me!"

Terra looked him square in the eyes. "I want my daughter back."

His eyes widened, but then he looked down. "Then...then you will have her back, or I will die trying."

•••••••••••

Cadence had promised to meet Terra in the northern wing, to look through the quarters for a suitable place of residency for Emma if—when!—she came home. With her old room obliterated beyond repair, Terra wished to start the project now, while she could. She also needed a place to store her daughter's possessions which had not been destroyed. Cadence had the last box of such possessions, a few books—most of which were seared or a bit rumpled—and surviving pictures. Her journal was inside as well, miraculously escaping the destruction with only a broken spine and a seared edge.

Halfway to the northern wing, Cadence stopped. Down the hall the angry, brooding figure of Alexander paced. Cadence, alarmed, approached. "Alex?" he looked up, sharply, surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm looking for the king and queen."

"What in heavens for?"

"I heard the announcement," he said. "The kingdom knows now, she...she didn't have to go." there were tears in his eyes. "I'm not here to argue with them over the decision, I swear Cadence, I just want their help."

"Their help? What are you talking about?"

"I can't sit here, waiting...not when she is with them." his tears were always so painful to witness. "If...if they could just grant me a ship, or—or a small force, I could—"

"What?!" she cut in. "You are planning to go there, all by yourself?!"

"If I must!"

The desperation in his voice was sharp. Cadence sat the box down at her feet. "Alexander...I understand this is painful you, but there is nothing you could do heading over there by yourself. And even if Edgar and Terra grant you a small army, it will do nothing! Don't you understand? She is a captive. You could arrive at their gates with as many men as you would like, but so long as they hold her there is nothing you-or anyone-can do. Her life would be in peril."

"She's in peril now!"

"Oh Alexander, please, think this through!" she took him by the shoulders. "You must leave this to Edgar and Terra. If you pressure Roskovo, they will only use her!"

"So what would you have me do?" he shrugged free of her hold. "Sit here and wait for that bastard to engage Roskovo?!" she had no answer. "If attacking them head on with an army will not save her, tell me what Edgar could do?!"

"He is a master tactician Alexander! It isn't that I meant it can't be done with an army, I only meant that directly attacking them will not help!"

"Then I won't! I'll sneak in!"

It was obvious now that he was serious, and no amount of arguing with him would set him back into reality...set him against this fool hardy rescue plan. He was dooming himself. Cadence took his hand. "Please Alexander, don't do this."

He pulled away. "You could never understand...he's with you."

She was so shocked that she could not fumble out a reply before he turned to walk away. Just then though Edgar appeared down the opposite side of the hall, and caught sight of them. "Cadence? Alexander?" he drew closer. "What brings you to the northern wing?"

Cadence faced him. "Edgar, he's...please, talk sense into him."

The king looked over at the lad. "What is she talking about?"

And, to their surprise, Alexander got to his knees and bowed. "I am begging you..." Edgar looked appalled. "...give me but one ship, so that I may bring her home."

Edgar knelt to bring the lad to his feet. "Alexander, I swear to you that I will not sit aside. I will get her back." he wasn't entirely sure why this lad felt so strongly about his daughter, but he couldn't have him begging him. "You needn't beg me, I am going to save her."

"When?" he asked, tearfully. "When?!"

"When it is within my ability," he said quietly. "I cannot just rush ahead...it would put her in greater danger."

The lad's eyes widened, and something beyond anger gleamed in them. He looked away. "You don't understand," he mumbled. "While you wait here for this golden opportunity," he glared up at him now, eyes seething. "She endures under her rapists. Under monsters. There will never be a perfect chance for you, never. You could wait years and it will never come."

"Alexander—"

"If you will not help me then you are useless to me," he growled, and shoved by Edgar and stomped down the hall.

When they were alone, Cadence wiped tears from her eyes. "Why..." Edgar touched her shoulder gently, to calm her tears. "Why is it like this?"

Edgar sighed. "I'm sorry for everything Cadence, for the wrongs that I have committed...but I will not stop until I have righted them all."

---

Three days had already passed, and nothing changed with the exiled princess of Figaro. She laid motionless on her bed, eyes open and staring distantly at the roof. She did not wake to eat, or drink, or anything. She was like a fragile doll, only able to be moved by others, unable to move, to live. It came with great relief to Sherra that Bertrand had seen her condition and demanded Johl to wake her, but that joy had faded quickly when, as the days went on, Johl could not stir the girl from her state.

It was on the sixth day that Sherra had found herself hopeless and desperate. She had the soldiers bring in all sorts of herbsmen and local healers, all with their own talents and ideas, but not a single one worked. It only infuriated her to see that they were, in fact, quacks. She threw them out of the castle every single failure with tears in her eyes. Had one just brought the girl to lucidity, she would have rewarded him all the riches she could give. She would have dropped to her knees in gratitude. But it had not come to pass. Emma laid as motionless as the day they had found her. Whatever he son had done to her, it was more than her little heart could bear.

And yet every time she demanded Lucas to tell her, he simply disregarded her and placed the blame on her. Sherra was almost at her limits. She wanted to beat the boy senseless, but she knew it would get her nowhere to waste her time and efforts on such a monster. So she spent the rest of the days at Emma's bed side, ladling honey into her mouth and whispering prayers and promises, all of which could not be granted.

On that dreadful seventh day, Sherra had come back with fresh flowers and sat them in the vase beside the girl's bed. "I have brought you some new flowers," she told the still girl. "From the eastern gardens this time...oh, how I wish I could bring you there. I'm sure you would love it." she sat down beside the bed and took one of the girl's hands. "One day, I will. I promise you."

Suddenly, she gasped and put her hand to her belly. The baby was kicking like mad. Sherra laughed, tearfully. It was the first she had felt it. She had grown so scared that it was... No, she thought. I must not think it. That's when she thought of something. "Emma, would you like to feel?" she leaned over to grab the girl's hand and place it on her stomach, where the little bumps rolled. It took a moment, but the baby started kicking wildly again and Sherra laughed. "He will be a wild one, a little ball of energy." she sniffed. "I hope you can meet him Emma..."

And that's when she felt it. Not the baby's kicks, which still came and went, but the girl's hand twitch in hers. Sherra was so startled, she just sat there, afraid to move. But sure enough, as the baby's kicks bumped under their hands, Emma's moved. Joyous, she sprang to her feet and gripped the girl's hand in hers. "Emma! Sweet thing, can you hear me?" but there came no answer, only that blank stare. Grief returned to her just as quickly as the desperate hope and joy, and she slumped back down into the chair. "Please...don't leave me." she looked away, letting her tears fall onto their locked hands.

"...Sh...Sherra..."

She looked up, crying, and saw the girl's pale eyes locked onto her. Tears were in her eyes, and her voice had been so hoarse it was almost impossible to hear her, but Sherra was certain. Emma was back with her now, and Sherra would do everything in her power to keep her there. "Oh darling, I'm so happy you're awake!" she could not contain herself any longer, she brought Emma into such a tight hug the girl squirmed painfully. "I'm so sorry Emma, I'm sorry for everything."

Emma let her tears build and fall. "It...it isn't your f-f-fault." she whispered, to Sherra's shame. The woman held her tighter, and cried.

•••••••••••

It was with great regret that Sherra had to report Emma's awakening to her husband, for she knew if she delayed even an hour, he would be furious. Sherra had made that mistake once, and she would never do it again. So once she had helped the princess to eat, she put her back to bed. It was so strange that the girl was still so tired, but in many ways Sherra was grateful. If she were asleep, it meant there was time to see her husband, and if she were lucky, Johl.

At the moment her husband was in the study, reading over a historical tome of Figaro. He was always so engrossed in his work, but it seemed as if nothing could go by him even if he were distracted. Without looking u p, he demanded to know why she was bothering him.

"I..." she hesitated. "I have come to tell you that Emma has woken up."

He flipped a page. "Good."

Sherra waited for him to continue, but when it was obvious he was not, she frowned. "Then...then I will be going." when she turned for the door, he stopped her.

"Wait," she faced him. "How has the little wench enjoyed your gifts?"

It was clear it was some sort of trap, but to what extent, Sherra was not sure. He was not pleased when she showed attachment to the princess, and he was not very happy about the item requests, yet now...

She swallowed back lies. If he had found them out, she was certain he would take it out on the princess. "She...she enjoys them." and, not forgetting to inflate his ego, she added, "Thank you for your help, Bertrand." he simply hmmf'd. Unsure of what else to say, she turned for the door and left him be.

"And Sherra," he called and she froze at the door. "It is time. They will be there for her tonight."

Turning to him once more, she gaped. "But she's only just woke up..." at the warning in his eyes, she stopped herself and bowed her head. "Of course, Bertrand...of course."

When she was back at the princess' room, she decided against immediately waking her up and preparing her. Whatever her husband and his lackeys planned for her tonight, she would need all the rest she could get. And since she has only just woken up from her mental break, Sherra would need to find whatever other ways she could find to help her. So after a few hours, she prepared a fulfilling sup for Emma, from hearty soups, meats and breads, to thick warmed drinks. When she was through, she went to wake Emma.

It was almost evening, and soon Bertrand's men would be coming.

"Emma," she whispered, taking the girls hands and gently squeezing. "It is time to wake up." She stirred slowly, opening her eyes just enough for her to see the kind woman standing beside her. "I know, you are tired and weak, but you must eat. It will help." she helped Emma sit up. She had gotten thinner again from her recent ordeal, but thankfully it wasn't as severe as before.

"Here," she sat a tray on her lap. "Eat it all." and as she handed the princess a cup of honey cider, warmed, she gasped and drew it back.

The princess looked at her funnily. "Wh-what did I do?"

"No, no, it isn't that, I just...I forgot something." she turned her back to the princess and dropped something into the cider. "There," she said, turning to hand it back. Emma drank it quickly, downing it all within a minute or so. Sherra laughed, and reached for the pitcher. "Would you like some more?" but the princess was already eating at delicious meaty soup. She giggled and sat down. "How are you feeling, Emma?" she asked after a moment.

Emma looked at her, mouth full. She chewed and chewed, and then swallowed. "B-b-better..."

"Do you...would you mind telling me what happened?"

She blinked at the woman, confused. "What do you mean?"

"What happened to you?" she asked. "You...after Lucas, you weren't..." how could she explain it?

Emma frowned. "I don't understand," she mumbled. "I just...just remember going into the basin room."

So that was it, she had no memory of it. "You don't remember?" she was a little relieved, but very concerned. "Nothing at all?" the girl shook her head. "Well...you have been—" she hesitated on the word to use. "—you have been asleep for days."

"I...I have?" when Sherra nodded, Emma looked down at the near empty bowl of soup. "I...I just remember the basin room, and—and feeling..." when Sherra prompted her to continue, her eyes filled with tears. "I just r-remember being so angry..."

Whatever did her son do to her? "What did Lucas do to you?" at that, Emma tensed up and squeezed her eyes shut. "Emma, I'm sorry...I shouldn't have asked." so, she realized sadly, she has forgotten all that came after but left with memories of her abuse. Sherra felt such pity. "Forget that I even said anything...please, eat up."

And, with great relief, Emma went back to her supper without another word. When not even Emma could eat another bite, she went to rest back into her pillows with a sigh. Sherra knew she could not wait any longer. She drew in a breath and reached for her hands. "Emma, there is something we need to talk about." the girl's pale eyes went to her immediately. "I...I do not like bringing this to you, but it must be said, before it is too late."

"What...what's wrong?"

"It is Bertrand," she mumbled. "He says you must be brought to the labs tonight."

Emma's eyes widened. "But—but I...I can't Sherra, I can't!"

"Listen to me," Sherra drew the girl's hands to her. "I know this is the last thing you want to do, but you need to understand that you have no choices anymore. And the longer you defy Bertrand, or deny Lucas, the more they will hurt you, and the worse it will get." her tears began to spill down her cheeks. "Emma, please...you can't keep this up. It will end up killing you."

"You want...you want me to let them..."

"I do not want any of this for you," she said, crying. "But neither do I want you to come back to me so beaten you are clinging to life! I do not want you to endure more than you absolutely have to! Is that what you want Emma, to push them and anger them? Is death what you seek?"

"No, I just—"

"Then if you do not wish to die, if you ever want a chance to return home, you need to decide..."

Emma stared at her, silent tears in her eyes, and then she looked away. "I...I will try." the way she had said it made Sherra feel so very wrong. Was it wrong of her to push the princess to this? Was it wrong of her to want her to be safe, even if it should cost her the last of her pride, of her sense of will?

"I just don't want to see you get hurt anymore," Sherra said, but the knock on the door drew them from the conversation. Emma kept her eyes down while Sherra went to answer the door. It was a small group of soldiers, and Johl. She was surprised to see him. "Johl..."

He raised a hand, to stop her from continuing. "I know, but it can no longer be avoided. I am amazed he has been this patient." at that, the men filed into the room and toward the princess. Emma didn't even fight them back as they drew her up out of the bed by her arms, nor did she look up at them or even Sherra.

"Wait, give me a moment, please," she stood before the men, pleading. "Please." when it was clear that they were granting her that moment, Sherra lifted the girl's face to her. "Emma...I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get short with you, I'm just worried about you."

"I know," she whispered, finally looking at her. "I...I will be okay." there was something odd in the way that she said it, but all Sherra could do was let her go and step out of the way.

Johl glanced at her before hurrying after the soldiers.

Please, Sherra pleaded with the gods. Keep her safe.

•••••••••••

The room she had been brought to looked no different than someone's personal quarters. There was no bed of course, but it looked lived in...personalized. The center of the room had been left bare, and to the back a long table with several different pieces of equipment Emma did not recognize. A strange looking man stood at one end, bent over the table, muttering to himself.

The soldiers stopped her at the center of the room, before most of them left, leaving those who stayed behind at the door. Unsure of what this meant, of what to do, Emma frightfully glanced behind her at the soldiers before looking away, at her bare feet. Johl entered the room shortly after, looking worn and exhausted. In his arms was a clipboard.

"Alveri," he said, walking passed Emma toward the man in question. "Be sure numbing agents are applied to the site before injection."

"What good are tests if the subject is numbed?"

"Alveri!"

The man simply giggled and went back to his work. Johl glared at him for a hot second before approaching Emma. "Pri..." he forced himself to stop, adjusting himself. "Emma, it is time for your first test."

"T-test?"

"It will be relatively simple," he promised quietly. "You only need to be still."

I don't understand, she watched as Johl went back to the table. What are they testing me for?

Just then the doors flew open and when Emma turned to see who it was, she froze. Bertrand went right passed her though, without even glancing at her, and turned Alveri around forcefully. "This is not what we discussed! She was to be brought to the main laboratory!"

"The main lab is being prepped for her," Alveri calmed him quickly. "It is not suitable for our experimentation just yet, but I promise, it will be. For now, we can do our minor testing here in my personal lab."

Bertrand snarled, clearly enraged, but contained himself. "I want her in the main laboratory next time, Alveri, do you understand me?"

"Of course your grace, of course."

And with that, Bertrand allowed the man to go back to his table, already completely lost in his work. Emma felt so cold when the man finally turned his eyes to her. Her muscles refused to budge, and when she realized she stared longer than she should have—fear had stolen her entirely—she quickly adverted her eyes, heart racing. I hadn't meant to! She thought desperately. Please gods, let him leave me alone! She could feel his presence a few seconds later though, so near she could feel his warmth, smell him. She screwed her eyes shut. Let him go, please!

"Look at me, little abomination." fearfully she opened her eyes to look at him. His eyes were so much like Lucas', though they seemed a shade darker. The bushy brows exaggerated the anger in his eyes, and further pushed her anxiety. A cruel smile broke across his face. "A lesser man would be charmed by you and your beauty, but I know what you are. I know what you are worth." Emma lowered her eyes finally, too afraid to keep looking at him. He laughed and grabbed her by the face to force her to look at him again. "You are still so defiant...and to what end? What benefit does defying me bring you?"

Alveri stepped in quickly, still fiddling at his desk with something. "She could potentially have some sort of disorder, your grace."

"No," Bertrand said, eyes still seizing hers. "She is like every woman and her willful nature tells her not to obey." he released her. "The thing about will though," and now she knew he was directing her, and no longer answering the man known as Alveri. "is that it can be broken, and remade."

Johl frowned. "Your grace, we have the initial injection ready for testing."

Bertrand finally moved his eyes from her to the men at the table. "A moment, if you would." he took Emma by the neck suddenly and forced eye contact. "Tell me, did you enjoy your little gifts?" Confused by the sudden change in topic, and not at all sure of what he was referring to, she fumbled over her words. He shook her just enough to rattle her further. "Answer me, abomination."

"I...I don't know wh-what you are—"

"Your new toys and clothes, you wench." Her eyes widened. She would have never accepted any of it if she knew it came from him! Why hadn't Sherra told her?! Why would she do this?! "Answer!"

No or yes, she was doomed. And any enjoyment she had taken from the gifts was lost to her now, but she knew from the last experience with Lucas that the truth was never the right answer. Trembling, she said, "Y-y-yes..."

"Is that so?" he said, and at once both Alveri and Johl turned to him.

"Your grace, now isn't the time for this," and "Please your grace, let us continue the trial." but Bertrand silenced them with a gesture.

"Hmpf." he let Emma go and went to the door. "Inform me immediately when the procedures are done." he slammed the door after him. At once, Emma slumped to the floor, crying. How close had she been to his fury? The look his eyes was, in many ways, worse than Lucas'. There was no tell to him, only fury.

Johl was beside her a second later. "Stand up, you shouldn't be on the floor." he helped her back to her feet. "Come, sit down here." he brought her to a small lab chair, where he helped her to stretch out along it. "Listen, there will be a few needles, but nothing else. Are you afraid of them?"

Emma had never seen a needle in person, at least that she could remember. What was there to fear of them? She shook her head. "Good, good. Then if you wouldn't mind, hand me your arm." hesitantly, she gave him her arm. He pressed something cold against the crook of her elbow, something that smelled familiar and oddly nice against her skin. Then Alveri appeared at the other side of the chair with a silver platter of things. Emma spotted a few phials and syringes, as well as needles. "Easy," Johl told her, noticing that she had tensed up a little. "It will not hurt, but just in case, I have numbed the area."

Alveri laughed. "I look forward to the results, little one."

And then, while she was distracted, Johl pressed something into the crook of her arm. It was like a pinch, but nothing too bad. Emma was afraid to look at it though, and the crazy doctor beside her giggled. "It is only a little blood, surely that isn't frightful?"

Emma braved a peak. The needle was long, and wide, and drew forth what she feared was an alarming amount of blood. When it was through and he stored it away, he looked at her with a frown. "A little more, and then we will be done, I promise."

"Well, done for now," Alveri added.

Emma closed her eyes and listened to her heart as Johl drew more and more blood, so many times. He had kept his promise though, as soon enough they were done and all that came to her was exhaustion and a slight head ache. Johl helped her to sit up straight. "Easy now, you will be weak for some time." At once, the soldiers at the door vanished, but Emma had not seen them. She was feeling so light headed, she just wanted to lie back down and sleep. "I know you are tired, just a bit longer and you will be back in your room." the soldiers returned, taking their spot by the doors again.

She rubbed at her eyes even as Alveri collected the blood phials and stored them away. "Johl, we have much work to be done."

"Of course," he muttered, before patting Emma's shoulders. "All will be well. Men?" the soldiers stood to attention. "Bring the princess back to her room, and please, let the queen know she is to keep the girl hydrated and well fed." When the soldiers drew her up to her feet, Johl parted with her with a few words of encouragement before following Alveri back to their work.

Emma knew better than to fight the soldiers. One of them could be cruel, or both. At least now they were gentle enough, if only hasty. Sherra was right...if I don't fight them, they won't hurt me, she thought tiredly as the hall grew darker as they went. It was a struggle to keep her eyes open, to stay alert. I never should have fought him... her thoughts went to Lucas, but despite the realization that resistance brought increasingly levels of pain, she could not find a piece of her that would just allow him to harm her like that. I don't care...I won't ever let them.

When she noticed that they passed her hall, she pushed her heels into the ground to stop them. It offered very little in resistance, but it was enough to make them stop and yank at her. "Wh-where are we going?" but the soldiers did not answer. "Please, I'm s-supposed to go back to m-m-my room!"

"We have our orders." one of them said, pulling her toward the double doors in front of them. "Just behave, and...and it will be alright." he whispered, before dragging her in through the doors.

Sitting behind his desk, engrossed in some sort of tome, was the king of Roskovo. A single soldier stood to his far right, as his only guard. A few flickering candles acted as the only source of light in the room, and most of them stood amongst his things on his table. The soldiers gently pushed her forward, off their support and closed the door. Without looking up, he began to speak.

"Come closer, abomination." at her hesitation, he looked up. "Do not make me repeat myself." she drew closer on wobbly legs. He rose from his seat. "You have made yourself very comfortable with my wife, have you not?" she was unsure of how to answer that. "She has become very willful since you have come to this castle. Willful. Disobedient. Out of line." he looked at her, his eyes ablaze. "Very much like you."

She looked back at the door, praying for Sherra. It angered him. "Do not turn away from me, girl!" he smashed his hands into the table, spilling the contents about the floor. The lone soldier quickly went to gather the candles afore they could turn the room asunder, and then quietly went back to his spot. Emma wrapped herself in her arms, defensively, and looked back at him. "My son tells me you are quite the pianist." he was going all over the place that Emma was finding it hard to come up with responses. "Tomorrow, you will play for me and my guests." She nodded. The words would not come. She hoped it was enough to quell his fury. "Good. You are dismissed."

She let out a breath she had been holding as the soldiers came back through the doors and took her by the arms. As they drew closer to the door, Bertrand's voice cut them off. "Wait." they paused, and Emma felt her nerves burning. "Bring her back here."

When they tossed her before him, on the floor before the table, the soldiers stepped back, waiting. Bertrand went around the table and knelt beside her. He lifted her head by the chin with his finger. It was terrifyingly gentle. "You are a lovely creature," he whispered. "But a creature all the same."

Tears welled up in her eyes. "I...I..."

His smile grew, revealing perfect white teeth. "I think it is time you repay me for my kindness, little abomination." her eyes widened. "Show me how much you enjoyed your gifts."

---

"This is madness, Alexander." Loreto said, just as Angelo added, "You cannot just leave!"

Alexander turned from the small box of weaponry to look at his little brothers. They had only just recently begun tutelage within the Golden Dawn academy, which was a prestigious academy that took pages and turned them into remarkable squires. It was often ridiculous for the method, where the lack of individual knights taking on squires was the primary complaint, but it had housed thousands of fine men. And most of the recruits for the Golden Lions, which itself gave the recruits to the highest security details to the royal family—including the Honor Guard and the Queen's Guard.

His brothers had been training there for five months now, learning the way of knighthood and politics. In that span of time, they grew so much it was startling for Alexander. It changed them in many ways too, although nothing seemed able to completely rid them of their hound dog ways.

"I cannot wait any longer for this kingdom to move in her defense," he turned back to the box, and recovered a broad sword. "I have given them time, and I have pleaded with them. They are too content to wait to see if Roskovo hands her back over."

"You know their position is more complicated than that," Angelo mumbled, moving out of his way so he could reach another box of armaments. "They cannot just rush in for her, it will take time and planning, and men. The time needs to be right."

"Listen to reason, brother," Loreto tried to stop him by the shoulders but Alexander shrugged him off. "What do you think you can accomplish running there all by yourself? You will only put her danger, and yourself."

"She is already in danger!" he snapped, facing them. "Don't you understand that? Is it so hard for everyone to grasp that those demons will not keep her as Figaro keeps prisoners?!"

"That isn't it," he protested. "We understand she could...is...facing torment and abuse right now, but this is not something you can do alone."

"That decision was made by her family," he muttered. "I cannot leave her there, not for a minute longer than she must." His brothers exchanged a look, and then asked him if he were serious about this. He nodded. "I love her, little brothers."

Loreto offered a small smile then. "Then we can't stand in your way. Go..." he stepped out of the way. "Bring her back home."

Angelo held something out, a pouch made of leather. "Here, you will need this more than we will."

Alexander accepted the pouch and reached to hug them both. "Thank you," he ruffled their hair. "I will be back, just you see, and Emma...she will be safely home."

"Just don't get yourself killed!" they shouted in unison as he hurried out of the room.

Alexander knew he had very little time to get out of the castle and city, before someone came looking for him. He donned his cloak and hurried out of the southern gate, now more laxed in security than the others as the eastern gate was repaired. There was two sets of guards patrolling, and he knew that if anyone of them saw him they would let him through, but report it to his parents or the royal family if they came asking.

He approached with his head down. Gods, let them just let me through without issue.

One of the guards halted him with a quick gesture. "Where are you off to, stranger?"

"I was here for work," he managed calmly. "I must leave before nightfall if I am to make it back to my home."

The guard looked him over questioningly for one long moment before stepping aside. "Best be quick then. Patrols outside of the city have been lightened upon the return of the king and his safety. It should return to normal within the month or so."

Alexander couldn't help but feel a wave of anger from that. His safety...there was no concern for his daughter whatsoever. He inclined his head. "Thank you, ser."

The guard laughed. "I'm not ser, not yet at least." he motioned to the men at the winch and they began to open the portcullis. "Have a safe trip now, stranger."

As Alexander stepped outward, he felt relief, and anxious. He was one step closer to her, and every step forward from here on out would be made for her. Please, wait for me Emma, he thought, moving as fast he dared in sight of the guards. I will save you!

---

Well, that is it for this chapter!

Oh, and the songs that Emma played at the piano actually had a name in my head as I wrote them, though I left it vague on purpose. The first piece was "spiritually" meant to be "Le quattro stagioni", specifically the first season (spring). The second is a piano solo of Bach's Harpsichord Concerto, Allegro. It is fast paced and very punchy, of which is the best way I could describe that piece with such little musical knowledge. The very last one Emma plays is Beethoven's piano sonata No. 14 (in C sharp minor), commonly known as Moonlight Sonata. I have loved it since I was a kid, and I thought the melancholic tones really fit Emma and the mood she was in.

So...I have made a rather large decision in renaming Derell (and I've gone ahead and adjusted it in the other chapters). In the aftermath of the chapter remakes, the name consistently stood out, especially with his background. I decided upon something French and yet had an imposing sense to it. I also knew this meant I had to improve his history a lot, and I hope when it comes to that point you all enjoy the changes for Lucas Maçon too, aka Luke, as you have probably noticed by now. I thought to make him almost a stark contrast to his father. Where Bertrand has explosive, uncontrollable anger, his son Lucas is usually more contained and calculative in his outbursts.

Another change that I have always meant to do, was to alter Alúzar. The name had always been a filler, but I never got around to it. With the remake going along nicely, I have managed to set in tones for consistency. Aluzar will from now on (adjustments have been made as soon as this chapter was released) be known as "Roskovo", which in the very underdeveloped conlang means around "brilliant, or bright". People from Roskovo are known as "Roskovian".

Hopefully my readers will approve of these changes, if not, leave your feedback, suggestions etc etc! ;)

(Title references Three Days Grace's "Let You Down".)