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.

11. I Will Not Bow

Notes: n/a

I Will Not Bow

His father's sudden announcement to him one evening, with his mother, had caught Cambyses completely off guard. The dismantling of the council had concluded officially, though they still needed to hunt down the last of them of course, it was a matter almost entirely behind Figaro now. The council, and all of their abusive powers, was no more. Cambyses had thought that would be the end of a domestic tension, of worry, and that his parents would continue on from there. And yet, as he stood there, unable to think of anything to say, he knew very soon he would be in their position.

"Did you hear me, son?" Edgar asked quietly from his seat. Terra was sitting in the chair to his left, looking as if she hadn't slept in weeks.

"I...I heard you."

"Then...what say you?"

Cambyses swallowed back a long list of complaints, of denials, of fear. This wasn't supposed to be happening for years. What was pushing them to this? Why now? "I can't accept this."

His father's eyes widened. "Why not?"

"You are meant to rule this kingdom," he explained. "I cannot fill the position you leave behind. I am not experienced enough. I...I am not enough."

"Cambyses," he stood and walked over. "If you trust my rule so much, then why do you question this? Your mother and I know you are ready."

"And I know I am not," he snapped. "I have failed time and time again, for everything that I do. It will be insanity to hand the reigns of a country over to me."

Edgar offered his son a small smile. "It won't be immediate, my son. You are just being officially crowned as prince of Figaro, that should I fall..."

"I don't buy that," he snarled. "I have been named the crown prince since that damn dinner. You don't think I know what you are up?" he looked away. "I am not accepting the crown, not until I have earned it."

"And who decides when you have?" his mother asked. "You think your failures define you, but what of your achievements? If you cannot accept our decision, then whose would you accept?"

"Mother, it isn't that simple."

"It is," Edgar took his son's shoulder and pressed. "I was handed the kingdom when I was just a boy myself, far younger than you. It was dropped on me at my father's death, and I had nowhere near the experience you have been granted when it happened to me. Do you think Figaro prospers?" slowly, Camb nodded. "It was through what I had managed to learn before my father's death, and the experiences that I endured after his death, that made me the king that I am today. You are no longer a boy Cambyses...you are a man. You are a Figaro lion, a proud prince!"

He let his tears fall. "I feel nothing but shame. You will never understand the turmoil in my heart, the fear and uncertainty. You never tormented your sister," his mother got up, tearfully, to embrace him but he held her back. "You have never given up information about your sibling...vital intelligence that could...is...being used against her. I am not a man. I am not a Figaro lion. I am the shadow of something beyond words...a pathetic shell. There is no such thing as redemption."

His mother slapped him then and he gaped at her stupidly. "You are my son and I will never hear that sort of talk from you again, do you hear me?!"

"But—"

"Never again!" she cried. "You are my baby, and no matter the mistakes you make, I will never stop loving you and supporting you. Your mistakes are many, and they may be like mountains on your shoulders, but do not think for one minute you cannot overcome them...that you cannot redeem yourself! Do not think that my daughter cannot give you redemption!"

It wasn't until he really looked at her tears that he felt ashamed of himself. What she might be feeling right now. He looked away, crying. If there was no redemption, what road was there for his mother? For his little sister? Or his father? He covered his eyes. "I'm sorry..."

Terra looked to her husband quickly. "Cambyses, you must face this with all the strength I know you have. You are our son...it is within you."

Edgar added, softly. "There is greatness in you Cambyses, you just need to see it yourself. And you will...when you are crowned king."

Cambyses looked at his father, eyes burning with tears. "And if you are wrong?"

He smiled. "I won't be."

---

Come morning, Sherra was up later than she had intended, certainly later than commonly practiced as of late. She had been so exhausted, and sore and hungry, that when she laid down finally, her eyes closed and she was gone. It wasn't helpful that she was ordered to stay the night at Bertrand's personal quarters in the western wing. So when she was up, she tiredly went and washed herself. She knew better than to dress herself as "tomboyish" as Emma had when she first arrived—Bertrand did not approve of it whatsoever—so she donned a long, billowy dress made in the old Marandian style Bertrand seemed to enjoy. Once she was done, she ate a quick breakfast of bread and ham, and hurried back to the princess' wing.

"Emma, dear, it is time to wake up," she walked into the room, smiling. "Come now, up up." she paused when she saw that the bed remained untouched, and the curtains drawn open. Exactly as she had left her room the day before. Dread filled her. "Emma?" but there was no response. Gods! She ran to the washing room, but it was empty. "Emma!" she hurried out from the room, trembling with fear and anger equally.

She caught a soldier on patrol a moment or two later. "Sir! Sir, wait!" he paused and turned to her, frowning.

"Yes, your grace?"

"Have you seen the princess...have you seen the girl today?"

"The exile?" he asked, brows furrowing. She nodded. "No, your grace, but I saw Ritz and Ket bringing her to the southern wing last night. Just after the laboratory, if I remember correctly."

She thanked the gentleman quietly and then went on her way. She was trying to avoid making a scene in the halls, to be stopped by loyalists and contained someplace. It would do her no good, and it would certainly do Emma no good. I must be careful, she hurried down the halls, breathing slowly, hoping it would settle her heart. I must find her.

And yet, when her search kept yielding no results, her fear took her. She stopped several maids and soldiers and practically begged them for their help, but they either turned away without a word or begged her leave, before running off. It took many tries, but eventually she found a man brave enough to listen, and braver still to offer his help.

"Please, I need to locate her. I will not betray your trust, Bertrand will never know."

He frowned at her. "He knows everything that goes on within these walls," the man said softly. "But I cannot deny my queen...and a worried woman." he glanced around, to be sure they were alone at least, and then leaned closer. "The king had her brought to his personal quarters. They haven't left the room since the labs."

She gasped. "No...surely...surely he would not..."

The soldier's eyes softened. "I fear whatever you aimed to prevent has already occurred. If you interrupt him now..." he shook his head, as if to dispel the thought. "It would be better if you awaited her return, rather than seek her out."

Sherra took up the ends of her dress and gave the man a small bow. "You have my thanks, sir." and then she turned and walked away, ignoring the soldier's pleas to return to her quarters.

Her husband's personal quarters was not a thing of mystery to anyone within the castle grounds. All knew its purpose, and women who crossed his path feared a visit to it. Sherra had never been taken there herself, it was not a place for his wife, but his concubines and such. It was "improper" for his wife to be there, or so he had said one evening when she confronted him about it. He had beaten her for demanding him to stop using it.

Let my suspicions be unfounded, she begged as the doors to his quarters came into view. Let her be someplace else... but she knew in her heart it was not so, and when she opened the door and saw her husband dressing at the end of his bed, there was no surprise within her. There was only pity and anger—a seething anger that choked her. Emma laid half across the width of the bed, unconscious. Her nose looked to have bled some, but there was otherwise no indication of physical abuse.

Bertrand simply looked over at her as he buttoned up his shirt. It looked as if he knew she would arrive then...as if he had planned it all. "Have I not made myself clear about entering this room, wife?"

She glanced from the girl to her husband quickly. She had to contain herself, she knew that. "I...I have come to retrieve the girl."

He sighed and went to collect his boots. "Fine. Get the whore out of my sight." Sherra hurried to the bed side and knelt to retrieve the princess' clothing, when he stopped her. "I did not grant you permission to dress her." Her eyes glared back the hatred she felt. He looked amused by that, and laughed. "Are you testing me, dear wife?"

"No, of course not Bertrand. I'm sorry." she ducked her head, and lifted Emma up. The girl was not heavy by any means, but even as practical skin and bones, it was too much for Sherra to carry. Sherra struggled, and then looked at him. "Will you please call in a soldier?"

He laced up his boots without looking up. "If you require assistance, seek it out yourself." he stood and adjusted his shirt. "However you do it, I want the whore back in her room to await her next appointment. And done so quickly." and then he marched out of the room.

Sherra knew he was serious. If she dallied about here with the girl and he found out about it, it would bring havoc to them all. She tried to lift Emma again, but failed. "Come now sweety, you need to wake up." but she still laid there, unresponsive. "Fine, fine..." she pulled the girl up by her arms to her feet and then wrapped one of her arms around her. "Okay, let's try this." she hefted the girl up against her better and began to walk out of the room.

Emma hung against her, dragging. A soldier walked by and paused just for a moment to look at the princess' exposed body. He startled and hurried off when the queen snapped at him to get out of her way. Pigs! She thought furiously. They can stand and leer, but not even one of them could help?! She was furious. "Please, you need to wake up," she lifted the girl back up when she started to fall from her arms. "I can't carry you like this."

More soldiers passed, and two stopped in hesitation, as if meaning to offer the queen their aid, but the others grabbed them by the arm and pulled them forward. So, not even the kinder among them would risk Bertrand's wrath. How did he rise so quickly to be one so thoroughly feared? No, it doesn't matter right now. Sherra tried to keep her mind off that and on task.

When she finally made it back to the princess' quarters, she felt ready to drop. She laid the girl down on the bed and sat herself down quickly, legs trembling. It was then that the girl started to stir. Sherra pushed herself back to her feet—it was such a struggle—and went to her side. "Emma?" slowly her eyes drifted open, just enough so that the queen could see her pretty eyes. She smiled, so relieved. "You are awake...thank the gods."

Tears brimmed in the girl's eyes and then she shut them tight, crying. Sherra reached for her hand, knowing what caused her new pain, her new turmoil. "Hush now, my sweet little one, he is gone and you are here with me now."

"I'm sorry," she cried. "I'm sorry...I tried. I tried...but I couldn't..."

Sherra felt such shame. Why should this little one apologize to her? This was all Sherra's fault. She held Emma's hand tighter. "Quiet now, you are safe..."

---

The day had arrived, and it left him wrung out. Afraid, nervous, ashamed. Unready. It was all he could feel, and all he could think about was just how much he did not deserve this. And the moment he stood before his mirror, staring at his own reflection. The royal garments fit him well, and the colors which became a symbol of his family's house seemed made for him. The sword which hung at his hip—purely ceremonial—was the very one his father wore and his father before him and so on and so on. Passed down to the crowned heir, and worn during only two events in that man's life—the crowning and marriage.

Cambyses reached to touch it's the black leather of its sheath. The age of it could be felt, and yet somehow, immense power. It's history. And yet, one thought troubled him. He let the sheath fall back to its place and looked himself in the eyes. There is only one person whom this sword should be passed to. Memories from the corner of his mind came to him, of his little sister. All of the things he had done wrong by her and to her, all of the small kind memories he had and all the others he had missed out on. The things she had missed out on all her life, the things she would now never get to experience. Here he stood with a future he secured only through her sacrifice. How could he even face himself in the mornings?

He looked away, with a deep breath. One day at a time, he told himself. Calm yourself. Today's celebration is meant to be a happy one, it isn't your funeral. He marched away from the mirror. Be thankful you are no longer in Roskovian dungeons, that you are with family. He looked out the window. Today is a joyous day... and yet, he did not feel any of that joy.

A rapid knock on his door stirred him from his dark thoughts. "Cambyses?" the door opened, and his brother walked in. "We are all awaiting you at the chapel." he offered a small smile. "Father told me to remind you there can't be a ceremony without you, but..."

"Of course. Please tell them I will be there shortly."

Benjamin nodded. "Alright...hold your head up, Camb." he said, before leaving.

Cambyses could no longer wait. He glanced back at his reflection one last time and then followed after his brother.

The chapel was made prohibited for use for the remainder of the day, so that the ceremony could take place without incident. The inside had not been decorated whatsoever, either. Sunlight streamed in from the windows behind the statue at the end of the chapel, where an elderly priest stood. In the stands to the sides were his family and friends. The royal family took the right half almost entirely themselves. To his left, he could see Cadence, smiling at him.

It granted him the strength to walk up the naïve and kneel before the priest. His heart was racing so fiercely. This was it. The very thing he had prepared for all his life, the thing he dreamed of, desired so thoroughly. It should have filled him with pride, with happiness, yet there was nothing in his heart but shallow joy.

"Cambyses Damocles Figaro, first of his name, heir and first born to his majesty Edgar Roni Figaro and her majesty Terra Branford, you kneel before the gods," the priest lifted his hands skyward. "To ask them for strength, for knowledge, for courage, for justice," he reached his hand into a large, shallow dish of something red. "And, above all else, their acceptance." he drew his thumb down Camb's forehead down to the tip of his nose, leaving a red pasty trail. "Acceptance to rule over Figaro. Acceptance to act in the gods' stead. For this, they grant their acceptance." the priest drew another horizontal line through the first. "In tribute, they demand justice and peace, and the protection of all their peoples. Failure to abide by these demands to the best of your ability will bring you dishonor and forfeit your heavenly right to ascend." the priest dipped a small cup into another shallow dish, of shiny liquid. The priest held the cup out to him. "Accept the water of the gods if you accept this tremendous burden."

Cambyses had to keep himself from cackling over the priest's words. He didn't believe in the gods this man was ranting about, but he knew that his little sister did, and he wanted to respect that faith of hers. Because he wasn't sure that he would have tolerated any of this, even if it was a long standing Figaro tradition, if that hadn't been so. The gods did not ordain his rule, and he wouldn't personally pretend that they did. Especially when, if they exist, they would allow the horrible things that have happened to him and his to come to be.

So, with resolve, he took the cup from the priest. "I accept."

The priest lifted his arms skyward again, and declared loudly, "Then drink!" when Cambyses drank the entirety of the cup's contents, the priest reached for a long cloak off the alter and wrapped it around Camb's shoulders. "In the name of the gods, I declare you the rightful heir of Figaro. Rise now, Cambyses Damocles Figaro, first of your name, as king of Figaro!" it was met with thunderous applause and as Cambyses stood, the weight of the cloak on his shoulders was just another reminder of all the things he had to carry within for the rest of his life.

The rest of the ceremony was moved to the inside of the castle, within the great hall. It was here that his parents bombarded him with compliments and promises, and encouragements and declarations of pride. Cambyses knew he deserved none of it, but he kept a shiny smile for them, so that whatever joy they had managed to achieve despite their daughter and their loss could stay just a little longer, so they could forget for just a little longer. Despite it all though, their turmoil was great enough to burn behind their joyous expressions.

"You did so well," his mother said through sniffles and tears. She took him by his face and kissed his forehead. "I know you will do well, Cambyses. Please, have faith in yourself."

"I will, mother," he said, forcefully, kissing her cheek. "I promise."

"It was a fine ceremony," his father added, quietly. "You would have made your sister proud today, son."

Would he have? Especially if she knew what he had done to be free of his pain? He doubted it. "Thank you father..."

After the short conversation with his parents and the rest of his family and guests, he withdrew himself from the ceremony and onto the terraces. He just needed a few minutes to himself, to clear his head, to think. He also did not want to bring down the mood in the hall. He leaned against the railing and looked out towards the setting sun.

The days ahead of him were his sisters, he had just stolen them.

Soft footsteps approached from behind him. Without looking behind him, Cambyses sighed. "Father...you should be in there, with mother."

"And you with Cadence." he remarked, coming to lean against the railing beside him. He looked at the sunset too. "She is worried about you son."

"I know...I just needed some time to think."

"She wants to be there for you, so that you can find that peace with her."

"And I do find that with her, I do, it is just...not something I can discuss with her so easily."

"And what is that?" his father asked.

"The anger and disgust I have for myself," he admitted after a moment. "The regrets which eat at me..."

Edgar closed his eyes. "You have nothing to be ashamed of." he then looked at his son. "You are not the one who put your sister in that position. You are not he one that answered that war declaration."

"I am the one that traded intelligence on her for my own safety."

"You did what anyone in your situation would have...and how would you have expected it to turn out? You had no reason to suspect your sister would be within the country, let alone that I—of all people—would trade her."

"Father—"

"You can regret how it all turned out," his father continued. "But do not confuse my mistakes and my problems for your own. I am the one to blame, for it all."

"That isn't true," Cambyses grabbed his father by the arm and turned him. "You can blame yourself letting Emma go to that blasted ball with Lucas all day, but you won't ever be at fault for trying to give your daughter something to look forward to. Some happiness! Everything else that came from that night falls on their hands, and their hands only. The war, Emma's emotional state, her attack...even her going to Roskovo and being traded! You were a victim of circumstance, against a cruel and methodical enemy!"

"A victim?" he stressed the word with so much disgust Camb flinched. "A victim?!" his hands tightened on the railing. "The only victim has been your sister, all her life. One cruel hand after another dealt to her, and the final hand had come from her own father. Yet you think I am a victim?"

"You know what I meant, father," he snapped. "You were put in an impossible situation, and even though you had given her permission to go with Lucas, you couldn't have known. And even though it happened to her, it isn't your fault. You were simply trying to make your daughter happy. Everything that followed was fated, and you have no control over it. There are people to blame, but you are not one of them."

Edgar pressed a hand to his nose, to try and keep his tears at bay. "You say that, yet you do not have to wake up every morning knowing that your decisions have led to this."

"Emma wouldn't have blamed you for what happened to her."

His father looked at him then, and the sorrow in his eyes told so much, and yet nothing whatsoever. "Cambyses, m'boy, I have no doubt you are aware that she thought I can conducted her assault."

Surprised, Cambyses sighed. "How did you figure it out?"

"She told me," he said, relaxing into the railing, looking down from the terrace. "We spoke, at great lengths, when we were at my camp. She confided that fear to me and although at the time I think I convinced her how...how I could never have hurt her, I fear whatever ground I had gained with her then vanished the moment I traded her."

"Nonsense," he said. "Emma is many things—emotional and prone to anger—but stupid is not one of them. You have to understand father, they had said it was by your hand knowing she had been listening. Knowing the fragile ground she stood with you. They did it to dissent, to break her father. Emma knows deep down you could have never, not even to your worse enemy."

"I am sure she thought I could never give her to the people who hurt her too, and yet it happened."

"Don't be obtuse!" he shoved at his father. "Would you have rather let one of us die? Me? Emma?! Or maybe both?"

Edgar's eyes filled with tears. "Alexander was right...I could have done something to get her free of them, even the ground. And yet I was paralyzed with the fear of losing her, of losing you both."

"You have been listening to that conniving whore's son?" Cambyses wanted to break something, and at the moment, it was the lad's head. "Father, for gods' sake, why would you ever take anything that bastard says seriously?!"

"Your mother told me your sister loves—"

"No," he cut his father off. "My sister thought she did, and even if she does still think that way, do you know the lengths that bastard went to in order to sleep with her?"

Edgar gaped. "What?"

"Of course mother wouldn't tell you that...she has never been able to talk ill of others, not even those she was furious with."

"Explain!"

For a few minutes, Cambyses went over the details of what Cadence had told him. All of the things Alexander had done for Emma, said and given to her and even convinced her. The toying, the lying. All of it. By the end of his recantation of it, Edgar's face had grown pale. Finally, he sighed and looked up into the sky.

"It doesn't matter what he did...if your sister forgives him, if she loves him and he her, that is all that matters."

"Are you serious?!" Cambysess gaped. "Father, he did all of that to sleep with her. Your daughter, a little girl, a—"

"Enough," he snapped. "You don't understand a thing, Cambyses. I am furious that his initial intentions were to...to take what he wanted of my daughter, but men make mistakes! And it is not my place to judge him for it or refuse him redemption, especially when my daughter—the person he did it to!—forgave him. She is his redemption, his judge, his jury. I am nothing in this situation, and neither are you."

"But—"

"But nothing!" he shouted, and both knew people had heard him this time. "If there is no redemption for a man like that, how can you sit there and tell me I am not at fault? Ever insinuate that I can be redeemed?!"

"Father, that's different. You have never done things like that to innocent women! To girls!"

"How can you be so sure?" he demanded, his eyes reflecting only anger now. "You think I have a past that I am entirely proud of? Do you think I have never made mistakes like Alexander's?"

"I...I..."

"Before your mother, I was nothing more than a hound. I went from lady to lady, with little more to give them that what I wanted. I may not have been rude to them, and I may not have caused them physical harm, but make no mistake the women I had left behind were left with nothing more than grief, anger and betrayal. I had learned to be better because of your mother."

Cambyses could only stare in shock. He had heard his father was the talk of the court in his prime, a favorite of women, and a lover, but he had never expected this. Neither of his parents have ever given an insight like this. "I...I didn't know."

Edgar's eyes softened just a little. "Was I not capable of redemption? Of change? Am I what you see in Alexander now?" unable to answer, Camb kept his mouth shut. "It is a beautiful thing that my daughter has fallen in love, through all of her difficulties in life, even after her assault. It is a wonderful gift that my daughter was the one to save another person, to change him so profoundly. How can you not see the beauty in it, Cambyses?"

"You are right..." he admitted after a moment, trying his best to keep his anger in check. "A man can change, even if they have done the things he has done, but you are wrong about Alexander."

"How could you know that?"

"I have known him all my life. He is a liar father, a bastard. Do you think he has truly changed simply because he said he has?"

Edgar shook his head. "It is clear you cannot accept it, not yet. I cannot change your mind, son, but one day I hope that someone, or something, does." he sighed. "It doesn't matter in the end, whether he has changed or not, he was still right in that regard. I had done nothing more than give in, because I was so scared." he stepped back from the railing. "And now I may never see my daughter's beautiful face again, or hear her voice or her anger..."

Cambyses took his father's shoulder and squeezed. "I swear it father, upon all the gods, upon my honor...we will not stop until we have freed her from Roskovo, from Bertrand. I will not stop until I have ground that man and his ilk into the ground."

"Revenge is a poison, son."

"What are you saying, that I should let it be?"

"No, of course not...but your goal should not be revenge, it should be about your sister."

"It is!"

Edgar looked him in the eyes. "I worked off revenge Cambyses, and look where it put me."

"Revenge may not always be worthy to pursue," he told his father. "But there are times where it is righteous, where it must happen. And right now fits it perfectly."

"If you say so..."

Cambyses knew this gloomy state they had talked themselves into would only further agitate his father, so he thought to bring some light to it. He smiled. "Father?" he hmm'd. "Would you mind helping me with something?"

"What is it?"

He smiled. "I would like to propose to Cadence." his father's eyes widened. "And I could do with the advice of my father."

---

It was late in the morning, and cold, when Emma finally woke. Sherra hadn't returned from wherever it was she went to, but Emma was glad. The woman had been spending so much time with her that Emma began to wonder if the woman even slept or feed herself. Of all the pain and misery she had caused in her life, she did not want Sherra to share it with those she had already hurt.

I won't let her be hurt, not because of me, she thought as she pushed herself up straight. There was a slight pain in her ribs, but it vanished quickly. She reached to touch her ribs, remembering. She wasn't sure if she should take the fact that Bertrand's abuse had started and ended with a smack with gratitude, knowing how much worse it could have gotten. She pressed her eyes shut, against angry tears. Gratitude! Was this where she had fallen? Releasing her breath and getting up, she made her way across the room to a long mirror.

The long and simple gown Sherra had helped her into last night was too long and too loose, and showed the upper parts of her shoulders where it hung loose over one shoulder. When her eyes went over her shoulders, she cringed as the memory of Bertrand's lips searing across her skin seized her. No, she told herself angrily. Do not think of it...think of something else! And yet it was as futile as trying to stop the ocean's waves. Bitter tears stung in her eyes. One day, if not through the will of the gods or the sword of an enemy, her captor's would pay dearly for all they have done to her. One day.

But that was not today.

Outside in the halls, she heard something. She inclined her head ever so slightly in that direction and listened. Heavy foot steps, gentle murmuring. So, she turned from the mirror to face the door as the sounds grew closer, today would be no different. It was clear it wouldn't ever change, the waiting for Bertrand or Lucas to arrive—to take and take, and beat her without so much as a second thought to it.

Lucas' words came back to her then. Resistance would bring only pain to those she loved, to Sherra and Relm and Gau...everyone she held within her heart. And yet, she could not understand why the decision was so difficult for her. Why couldn't she just let them have their way, without so much as a word? Why did she have to care so much about what they did to her, or the way it made her feel, or how they looked at her? Why did she have to love and have it be used against her?

I wish you were here. You would know what to do. She thought of her voice as the doors opened and Sherra waltzed in. At her back, two soldiers. The soldiers lingered at the door as Sherra approached.

"Heavens, you're awake..." she took Emma by the shoulders, smiling. "How are you feeling?" Emma glanced at the men quickly before adverting her gaze. She just nodded, and hoped it was enough of an answer for the woman. "I see...listen Emma, there is something I need to explain to you."

Finally, Emma moved her eyes up. "I...I have to go with them, don't I?" she asked quietly.

Sherra nodded. "Yes, I'm afraid so, but it should only be for a while. Johl informed me that the tests listed for today are minor." Johl said, Emma thought dryly, finding her anger once again snapped. "I know this isn't what you want Emma, and if I could I would take it all away..."

"...but you can't." she added for the woman a few seconds later, staring down at her toes. No one can...I am stuck here.

"No," Sherra agreed quietly. "I can't."

The soldiers, impatient, drew near. "We have orders to be at the laboratories within the hour, your majesty. We must hurry."

"A minute," she snapped at them and then took Emma into a hug. "Be brave, little one...I will be here when you get back."

Emma understood the words beneath her words very clearly. Sherra was once against asking her not to fight back. It is much harder than you can imagine, she thought pathetically. She did not answer the woman back, and let the soldiers grab her by the arms and drag her out of the room. The entire way out, Sherra watched tearfully.

•••••••••••

"In through there," one of the soldiers said, pointing ahead after he let go of her arm. The other soldier had busied himself with something in the corner of the room. Emma glanced around, nervously. The room was rather narrow, and extended only toward one door at the end. It stood almost as high as the roof, and was made with some sort of material that shined, that reflected her. "Go on now." he pushed, gesturing. "Don't give us trouble, please." Emma swallowed back a denial, a cry, and hesitantly walked towards the door. "Hurry now." he said, without looking up from a paper he picked up from a nearby table.

The door was ice cold, and felt strange beneath her fingers. It made her tingle. She hated it. She opened the door and walked slowly into the room. It was dark, darker than even what she could see in. A few steps in, she turned to say something but the soldier stood there. "Wait for further commands." and then he closed the door behind her. Panic flew through her and she raced to the door, banging on it.

"Let me out! Let me out!"

"Quiet!" a booming voice popped into the room. It was so loud that Emma recoiled from the door and covered her ears. "And step away from the door!" it sounded as if it were coming from within the walls and the floor. It was so painful. "I said, step away from the door!" the loud static-y noise that popped after he was done talking was even worse. Emma tearfully made her away to the back wall, trembling, hoping it was enough to make them stop whatever it was they had been doing.

"Good," the voice sounded off again, and Emma tightened the hold against her ears. "Now we will commence the test ahead of the scientists' arrival. Please, be advised that refusal to work will result in pain." and then that was that. She peeled her hands away from her ears after a few minutes passed without any more noise. It felt as if her ears were ready to burst. She curled herself up against the wall and pressed her knees to her chest. It gave a small comfort.

It felt as if hours had gone by before something had changed. She heard something rattling from across the room, near the doors. She stiffened, listening. It sounded like...like metal tapping metal. She slowly got to her feet, heart racing. "H...hello?" she whispered into the dark, but no reply came. "Is...is someone there?" again, nothing. That's when she heard it, the snarling. Her blood froze as a shape against the dark loomed closer. As it drew closer, she could hear something else, as if it dragged behind the shape. She knew deep in her heart that the noise was an animal, but she hoped so much that she was wrong.

When it lunged toward her and she felt hot teeth sink into her arm and drag her to the floor, she gave a piercing cry and tried with all her might to hold it back. The resistance only made the creature sink its teeth deeper, twisting and pulling. Emma could barely think from the pain, and the sobs that left her sounded hysterical and broken. "Please!" she cried, the sound of it echoing within the room. "Stop!"

A few seconds after her plea, a whistle reverberated through the room and the teeth let go of her. She was so thankful, in so much pain, that she just dropped back against the floor, trembling through her sobs. Suddenly bright, ugly orange lights flared on above her, so bright it stung her eyes. She cried and turned painfully away from the light, so her face pressed against the floor. It meant hurting her arm though.

The door opened and someone approached. Emma gritted her teeth against the pain. "Look at me, little one." the voice was familiar. She peaked up at him. It was that strange scientist from before...what was his name? Alveri? Alderi? She couldn't rightly remember. His eyes were wild, and the smile on his face almost seemed sweet. "We are a teeny bitsy-bit behind schedule...I pray you can understand." She batted back tears and collapsed back to the floor. Alveri clicked his tongue. "That won't do...we have so much more today that we must complete." he reached to pick her up by the arm. "Up now, up up."

When she was on her feet, shakily, he shoved something into her hand. It was then that Emma noticed the thing that had bitten her by the door, chained. It was a massive dog, snarling and eyes like amber. "Go on, take it," Alveri said, sounding a bit impatient. It was some sort of wooden club, thicker at the top than it was where she was holding it. "Good, good." he went to the door, petting the dog before he turned to her. "Now, if you are good and do as you are told, you will not be hurt. Do you understand?" Fumbling over words, she instead nodded. He chirped and then left.

A moment later, the doors opened again and an elderly man was shoved into the room. He fell just beyond the dog, who snarled nastily. Emma was so surprised to see another person she dropped the club and went to help him up, but the voice shattered the room again.

"Do not touch him!" Emma stumbled back and covered her ears. "If you do not obey, you will be hurt. Step away and pick up the weapon."

She glanced around the room, trembling, and picked up the weapon she had discarded. "Good." whoever this man was talking, Emma knew it was not Alveri. The voice sounded too heavy. "Now..." she waited, anxiously. "Beat the man in front of you."

"What?" she gasped and looked at the man kneeling in front of her. He was but skin and bones, far older than he looked, she knew it.

"I said, beat him!"

"But...but why? I just—"

"If you refuse, you both will suffer tremendously. Do as you are told."

Emma dropped the weapon at her feet and looked away. "No."

"So be it." the loud voice said.

The door opened again and two soldiers walked in, carrying black, thin tools. Emma knew what cost her disobedience was and flinched, waiting for the beating. But then she heard the elderly man cry out and opened her eyes. The soldiers were beating him, savagely. He laid there, crumpled, arms covering his head but unable to stop any of it. Emma's stomach sunk and she rushed forward to grab at their arms. "Stop!" she cried, pulling. "Please, stop! You are killing him!"

The soldier shoved her back so roughly she fell to the floor. The voice talked again. "No, girl! You are killing him!" she sat up on her elbows. "And only you can make it stop before it is too late." she closed her eyes.

No...what am I supposed to do? Let them kill him, or...or do it myself? The noises of the weapons hitting his body made her sick. No...I'm...I'm not a killer!

And then it stopped. When she dared to look, she saw the elderly man laying there, still as stone, bleeding profusely. She could not see him breathing. "Look at your handiwork, girl." Emma could not remove her eyes. "If you dare to defy your orders again, we will keep bringing them in, and their deaths will be on your hand." this time the door opened, and a middle aged man was dragged in. He looked to be in better condition than the elderly man before him, but was clearly a man of poverty. His eyes went around the room, confused, until they rested on her.

The soldiers shoved him to his knees. "Do it girl." Emma swallowed back a defiant response and looked at the weapon lying next to her. What incentive was it to watch a man be killed or to do itself yourself? As horrible as it was, she would never raise her hands to another and take their life...not again. Not if she could help it!

"Please," the man whispered, and she looked at him. "If you don't...please, I have a family."

Did this man not understand? He was going to die today, it was just a matter of who would do it. And she wouldn't. Why he is so persistent...they told me to kill him! Doesn't he understand? And that's when it clicked in her head. The man never said to kill them, just to beat them. But how could she even do something so horrible?! I...I can save him though. She took the weapon. "I'm...I'm sorry." she told him. The man smiled at her, relieved, and lowered his head to her. She thought she heard him whisper 'thank you' as the weapon came down across his shoulder. The man only cringed, and as Emma tearfully beat him, he made no noise. He remained strong.

When the voice finally commanded her to stop, she stepped away from the man's broken and bloodied body, shaking. The club like weapon was covered in his blood, but in all the horror she had dealt him, there was breath still in his lungs. The soldiers knelt to pick the man up and drag him out of the room.

"Excellent work, girl. Continue to obey, and it will be easier for you and everyone else involved." as he spoke, the door opened again and in the soldiers dragged another person. This man was much younger than the others, possibly in his middle twenties. His attire seemed almost like... military, she thought, as the soldiers dropped him before her. "Continue." the voice ordered. "Do not make me remind you what happens if you disobey."

I'm so sorry! she raised the club.

---

The ceremony had been a beautiful and happy one, and Edgar was proud of his son and all the great things he knew he would do as king. He knew that his youngest son would have no problem in life after his brother's coronation in the following month, that he would undoubtedly go on to become a great engineer if he so wanted, or a fine knight. His sons' future was set in stone, set for success and happiness once the war was over, but it was his daughter's future that he now thought of.

The nights had been full of nightmares ever since he left Roskovo. Nightmares where she would just stand at the foot of his bed, bloodied with empty eye sockets, staring deep into his soul with her black gaze. Others where she would be screaming at the end of a long corridor and no matter how long he ran, he could never reach other. Nightmares where she would look at him with that little face he had remembered from Thamasa and ask him 'why?' over and over again. The worst though had been the most realistic ones, the ones built from his memories. Days where he had spent with her, making her laugh or smile, turned to rot in his hands, for he knew he could no longer have them, that he had made it impossible now for her to ever live.

He always woke from them with hoarse screaming, and his wife, despite her anger with him and her grief, would hold him and soothe him. He couldn't imagine the nightmares she had, or how she had the strength to grieve and still help him through his own. On one particular night, when he could not sleep but his wife had woken crying, he had calmed her down from that grief long enough for her to lie back down, exhausted. He knew the pain he had caused his family, his wife and daughter, would never heal and it made him sick to realize he was the reason his wife was suffering so much—that he would be the cause for his daughters pain.

He sat up and sighed, rubbing at his neck. He needed to think, and being in this room was not helping. He got to his feet and quietly exited the room so he could clear his head. Once he was sure that his wife was still asleep, he scurried out into the halls. He wasn't sure where he was going to go, but his roaming had led him straight to his daughter's wing. He stood outside her broken and chipped door, looking at the scorched remains of the letter, feeling sick and pitiful.

What would life have been like if she had never been sent to Thamasa? Would she have learned, eventually, to control her abilities? Would the people have truly accepted her knowing her immense power, and the potential of destruction? Would she have known a good life, an average life? One where she would have had friends, one where her brothers would have never bullied her? One where Lucas Macon had never waltzed into her view?

I have only ruined lives, he thought pathetically. How my choices have ruined you...what I would give to make it right. He pressed through the door, and it nearly fell off its hinges. The inside of the room had been relatively cleared of debris and her items, and it surprised him. He hadn't been in her room since he arrived back in Figaro, and before then...days after her assault. How long had he foolishly neglected her, for his own stupidity and fears? He let his tears fall as he knelt to pick up the remnants of some sort of stuffed animal. What was left of it was singed beyond recognition. He pressed the burned little thing to his chest and then glanced around the room.

The hole that his brother had been tossed out of was in the process of being closed off, to keep out the approaching winter colds, rain and other such things. The roof was still shattered and hung downward here and there. Edgar couldn't imagine the power she had displayed. It was as if a great storm had gone off within the room. Was she really that powerful, even with her weaker blood? Terra, easily, could achieve this if she could still transform, more likely wreck the entire castle in a single spell if she so wanted. But his daughter...the last time she had transformed the worse she had achieved was, besides a sore ego on Locke's part, a shattered wall and melted stone floor. This... he surveyed the room. This is so much more.

With a sigh, he left her room and continued on his way. The charred little stuffed animal was still in his hand. Soon enough, he stood outside the quarters that his wife had set aside for their daughter. She was already thinking, dreaming, of the future, of when her daughter was back home. He wasn't sure how to feel about that, that she had such confidence in it, or if she could only do so to distract herself. Perhaps Alexander was right; while they wait for the best opportunity to strike, she suffers more and more. With what his wife told him about Alexander and Emma loving each other, the lad's conviction and anger had perfect sense.

Courage now, he thought, walking into the new room. Courage.

The new room was spacious, more spacious than the prior room, and already out fitted with most of the things their daughter had that could, reasonably, be replaced. The instruments had been the first. He walked over to the bed and, when he saw the new collection of almost identical stuffed animals, he glanced down at the one in his hand. Of course...what had he been thinking? What purpose was there for it now, it so ruined? Why would she want it, even if she were here? He went to the little bin at the side of the bed, empty, and dropped the burnt toy into it.

Tearfully, he looked around the room, feeling its emptiness despite all of the things that cluttered it. There weren't memories here, nights his daughter had spent there, mornings she had prepared herself in. He just wanted his little girl back. I should have given Alexander what he needed, he thought. Perhaps he could have done it. His eyes caught sight of some little book in a stack on the table and walked over. It was a bit battered, but Edgar could tell what it was, if not by the elegant hand writing, the unique reddish leather Terra had commissioned just for their daughter. It was his daughter's journal, a recent along a list of many she had filled over the years. He picked it up, smiling. He remembered when Terra had gotten it for her, a stack of ten of them.

Emma had come home from her academy in Thamasa, sniffling over some wrong done to her, though they had never gotten the full truth out of her. Terra had gone out one day and came back with them, telling her that when she felt lost or hurt or any such, she could write it down. That she could write her own history. Emma was smitten immediately. Within a few months, Relm had written to tell them that Emma had already filled the first journal. Terra promptly sent more.

He laughed and ran his hand over the writing, then remembering when he and Terra had confronted Emma over the contents of it later. My was that a monumentally stupid idea of his...

"Father?"

Edgar turned sharply, surprised, and hid the journal into his robe. His eldest son was standing in the door way, looking just as exhausted as he, as if he had just stumbled out of bed. "Cambyses, son...what are you doing here so late?"

"I could ask you the same thing," he said, walking into the room, eyeing the objects around the room in which Terra had attempted to replicate. "I think we both know the reasons why we are here, though."

"It grows more difficult every night," Edgar admitted quietly. "And I fear the pain I have caused your mother is...is irrevocable."

"Mother is strong," Camb told him. "She grieves, but she will not break. Not when there is still hope." If there is still hope, a dark part of Edgar had wanted to correct. "You both need time to properly grieve...ignoring it will only make it worse." Edgar was not in the mood to discuss his pain, and instead asked how Cambyses was doing. His son frowned. "I am miserable, father, but is that so unexpected? I betrayed her, and I am disgusted with myself, but I have to move forward. I have to hope I will have the chance to look her in the eye and apologize, to explain...to beg for forgiveness if need be."

Edgar hmpf'd. His son made it seem so simple. "I just want her to know that I love her and I always will."

Cambyses took him by the shoulder. "She knows that father, somewhere, behind all the pain or anger or whatever she is feeling...she has to know it."

Edgar looked his son in the eyes, frowning. No. I do not deserve her love or forgiveness, but one day I will bring her back home, so that I may face that righteous anger and hatred.

---

When they had dragged her back to her room, the Roskovian queen was waiting there for her. The room had been tidied up—something done out of nervousness, Emma knew, as her mother did the same thing. Vases of fresh flowers decorated the tables and shelves, and a large bowl of fruit mixed with chocolates from the city, sat on the small table beside her bed. It was, she knew, to make the room seem more inviting, done to comfort her after whatever she had been through, but all Emma felt was sickness and pain and disgust. Nothing in the world could take that away from her.

The soldiers left her on the floor just a few feet away from the door and then promptly left. Sherra came to her side immediately, with soft hands. "Emma...are you okay?" Emma tearfully reached to hug her, and the woman responded in kind. "Oh sweety..."

"I hurt them," she sobbed. "I hurt them...!"

"Hurt who?"

It hurt so much to tell Sherra what she had been made to do, to have to relive that moment again, even for a fraction of a minute. The sound of the club smashing bone, the wet sound of blood splattering, the quieted groans. She hid herself against the woman's shoulder, trembling. Sherra took the information without a word, and for a long moment all she did was soothe her with gentle hands. At last she spoke, and her voice was gentle.

"Listen to me," she pulled the girl back. "You said it yourself...if you had not done what you did, they would have been killed."

"I still hurt them..."

"Yes, you did," she admitted after a moment. "But as they had not been given a choice to be there, to be used as some sort of test animal, you weren't given the choice to stop. It was either you, them or both of you. At least you acted in what you believed would keep them alive...and as bad as their pain is, they can live to breathe another day because of you."

Emma could tell that not even the queen believed those people had been spared after they left the room. If the Roskovian king had any sort of mercy about him, he would not be using his own citizens as test subjects. It was the uncertainty that made the sick feeling in her gut worse, for the fear that wherever they were now was even worse than where they had been. Sherra only kept from saying it because she believed it was for Emma's benefit.

"I am a monster..." she thought back to her imprisonment, to the scorn and fear and anger in the councilmen's voices and eyes. Those men I hurt...is this a part of me, this evil? "I'm what they said I was..."

"No, you aren't!" Sherra had said with such anger that Emma looked at her, startled. "You are an impossibly sweet girl, and had you been in control or you were not being threatened, would you have hurt those people?" No... Emma thought, tearfully. She shook her head. Sherra took her by the face and held her firm. "Then how can you say you are a monster? A monster would do those things simply because he wanted to, or because he thought it was enjoyable. You didn't want to, and you found no joy in your actions. So how can you call yourself a monster?"

Emma sniffed and rubbed at her nose, tears still burning in her eyes, though slowing. "I don't want to be a m-monster."

Sherra smoothed her hands down the princess' hair. "You have nothing to fear, you will never be one. No matter what they make you do."

And in the two weeks that followed, Emma had been made to do vile things and tried to do other things that she fought with all her will. All of these monstrous things were almost always done within that terrible room from before, which the soldiers had started dubbing the "correction facility". Day after day a person to beat, day after day an animal to hurt, day after day muscle training and reactionary training, and even sword training. And every night she came back to her room, exhausted and sick to her stomach, wishing for nothing more than to never wake up again.

The days when she refused her orders were the days she was dragged into another room, a darker and colder room, and tortured for hours and hours. Often times she passed out, unsure of what had been done to her, but most times she was beaten, drowned, poisoned, and even cut with burning hot knives, scarred and told she she was nothing. And sometimes she found herself believing it. The worst days of such was whenever Bertrand accompanied the sessions. He watched with dark eyes and a shadowy face, and suggested what to do unless he came in to take her in front of the soldiers. Emma had found that the worst of it all, to be touched like that again and without even the decency of privacy. The soldiers had taken a likening to it, and mocked her for it any other day.

The worst part of it was that Lucas did not stop seeing her during it all, so whenever she was finally brought to her room and wishing for the comforts of sleep and Sherra, all she was greeted by was the blank expression of the Roskovian prince, and eyes she had once thought were beautiful. She could never find herself the strength to do as he asked, to not resist him, and it ended poorly for her. He was far more delicate in that anger now though, in his punishments. The prior beating would be the last of its kind, he had promised her, and he strangely kept to his word. Whatever he did to her now it was mostly kept to things which left minor marks on her; a slap here or there, a punch perhaps if she was particularly resistant, and sometimes, if she were really unlucky, he would choke her—if she had said something "cruel" to him.

Sherra told her she had to let him do whatever he wanted to her, without a fight, or she would never know peace with him. And Emma tried. She tried so very hard, but it never came to her. She could not stand the feel of him, the scent of him or his once beautiful eyes. The way his hands touched her made her sick, the way he held her to him made her angry and worse yet, the way he made her feel. None of it could be ignored. She would gladly face his anger, his punishments, if it meant she had the slimmest chance of avoiding that dreadful contact, or showing him how much she hated it.

By the end of the fifth week though, one morning—a rare day of reprieve—she had been getting dressed when Sherra made a comment about her body. Emma looked into the mirror at the body that was, now scarred of course, but toning well from her training. Where she was once just thin, barely more than skin and bone, she had developed a look of muscle. Her eyes burned in the image to her mind, and not a part of it was something she could be proud of, as she might have if it was done through her uncle's training or back at home. She was being made into something specifically for Bertrand, and she wanted no part of it.

It was just the beginning though.

Soon, the commands in the correctional facility were no longer "beat them", but "kill them" and Emma could not do it. The pain of her own torture for denying Bertrand was sweet to her. She would never stoop to his dark desires. Or so she had thought.

Bertrand walked into the room quietly one evening, his dark eyes glaring after her as a man was dragged in beside him. The man looked half starved, and already taken through several beatings. Emma had concluded long ago that these people brought into her were some sort of enemy of the state, whether it be denying taxes or service. She knew there was nothing too small to irk Bertrand.

"You will kill him," Bertrand said quietly, still watching. "If not to save him the more painful death that awaits him at another' man's hand, but because I have ordered it of you."

Emma met his glare with her own defiant, stubborn one. "No." especially not because you ordered it! she thought.

His face remained calm, but those eyes. Those eyes betrayed the anger in him. "You will comply, or you will come to regret it."

"I won't," she snapped. "Do what you want to me, I won't kill anyone!"

And then his lips pulled into a thin, mocking smile. "Is that so?" he crossed his arms. "It seems sometimes bodily harm to your own person is not enough." he took the beaten man at his side by the neck and flung him at Emma's feet, and then his own sword. "Kill him girl, or I will bring Sherra in here and cut that baby out of her." Emma's eyes widened. "Do not think I wouldn't. There are more women where she came from, and I have more than enough time to breed them. She is nothing to me."

Emma's gut felt full of rocks. "You are...you are lying!"

"Is that something you wish to test?" he asked her. "I will grant you the reward for your disobedience, but you will have no one but yourself to blame when she lies at your feet, dead." Emma glanced at the man at her feet and the sword beside him, trembling. She closed her eyes. Bertrand's voice carried on, though this time he was directing someone else. "If she does not move within the next minute, fetch my wife."

"Yes, your grace." a man answered.

The minute passed, and the soldier went for the door. Emma tearfully looked into the man's wide, frightened eyes. I'm sorry...I'm so sorry. She knelt for the sword, and Bertrand waved the man aside, watching with a growing smirk. The sword trembled in her hands, and the man watched the blade fearfully. "I'm sorry," she told him quietly, and forced the blade through his chest. It was a strange thing, feeling the blade dig through skin and between bone, having to force it when it got stuck. Strange and sickening. When the man gasped and writhed on the floor, dying, Emma whirled around and vomited.

Bertrand said, "Always obey me girl, always, and you will find it rewarding." he turned for the door and added, "And the killing will become easier for you." then the door closed behind him, and Emma could not hold away the tears.

The soldiers waited until the body had been removed from the room before they dragged Emma out of the room and back to her own quarters. When they slammed the door behind them and went on laughing, Sherra had heard and came out from the washing room, carrying a small hand towel. When she saw Emma kneeling there, silent tears running down her face and her hands bloody, she went to the girl immediately.

"Emma? Oh gods, what happened?" she took the girl by the arms and held the bloody things away from her, but Emma was not listening. "Stand up, stand up now, we'll get you cleaned up."

"I...I killed him," she muttered, her eyes wide, terrified.

Sherra frowned. "What? Who?" But the princess did not answer. Instead she hid her face in her hands and sobbed. Sherra didn't know what to do but hold her, so she squeezed her tight and let her own tears fall.

That was the only the beginning.

There were more dissidents brought before her, and more often than not, she was forced to kill them. There was no discrimination against who had been brought before her either; elderly, young folk...even women. There had never been a child, but Emma feared it every day. But Bertrand was right; it became easier, in many ways, to take their lives. Though at night, when she laid there, the nightmares sunk their teeth deep into her flesh. From all her victims—their faces seared into her memory—to the nights that Lucas or Bertrand took their pleasures. One would rarely hit, the other always hurt simply because it was more pleasure for him. Soon enough, she had no strength to resist either of them. The pain was too great, and the fear of losing Sherra even greater. It did little to settle Bertrand's wrath, but it was more than enough for Lucas. The rage within him had been tamed almost entirely by her compliance.

Whenever Emma was free from her training, and the painful visits to the laboratory—where they seemed to never stop drawing blooding or putting something into her veins—she spent them in her room or in the gardens with Sherra. It became the only thing of comfort Emma had in her life, and she cherished them beyond words.

On this cold day, they were snuggled into the warmth of her quarters, across from window, where they took their breaks to enjoy the sunlight. A nearly finished puzzle sat between them. Sherra suggested it when she woke, and Emma suspected Sherra offered it because she had been out of it the last few days. The last visit to the laboratory had left her sick to her stomach, and very weak. It didn't help that her nightmares were taking much of her nights now too.

"You are missing another piece," Sherra teased, with a smile. In her hands, a few pieces of her side of the puzzle. The puzzle was four thousand in count, and made for a perfect game for both of them. Sherra had taken the top of the puzzle, and Emma the bottom. She was many pieces behind, just as Sherra was, but the last few pieces were giving the princess such trouble.

Emma looked down at her pile of pieces, brows furrowed. She smoothed them out along the floor, and dug around for a minute. "I can't find it." she said simply, annoyed.

Sherra could see the piece in question and said, "Are you sure? Perhaps you look too hard."

"Wouldn't looking harder for it make it easier to see?" she asked, confused.

"It would surprise you that isn't always the case," Sherra answered her. "What if I asked you to look around the room for a very long time, and then had you leave for just as long as you had stared. Do you think you would be able to spot what might be missing in this room?"

Emma looked around the room, clearly thinking on her words, before she looked back at her. "I don't know...maybe."

Sherra laughed. "Well, I suppose if anyone could, it might be you. Still," she reached over the puzzle to cover the girl's eyes. "Try to forget the pieces for a moment." Emma took a deep breath, trying to do as she was told. "Now..." she released her hand. "Try to find the piece."

It took the princess only a minute or so to find the piece she was needing, and it had been right at the edge of the pile all along. Emma laughed. "It worked."

"Sometimes what you look for is exactly right in front of you," Sherra said, reaching for the piece she needed next for her turn and popping it into place. "You only need to look at it a bit differently, is all."

When Emma started to dig through her pile again for her next piece, Sherra gasped and put a hand to the swell of her belly. Emma glanced up, frowning. "What's wrong?" she sat aside her pieces.

"Oh, nothing to worry about," she laughed, moving her hand across her stomach. Emma watched with round, fascinated eyes. "I was just surprised, that's all." Hesitantly, Emma asked if it was the baby. "Yes. He has been so rowdy lately...I think he misses you."

The girl's cheeks reddened. "Can...I mean..." she stammered. "M-m-may I f-feel?"

"Of course, of course," Sherra took Emma's hand, ashamed of herself for having never offered, and placed her hand against the place where the kicking had been bumping the hardest, and then let go. For the longest time nothing happened, but when he kicked hard, Emma jerked her hand away, eyes wide, terrified. Sherra started to laugh. "It is alright, you aren't going to hurt him, and he won't you."

With great caution, and as gently as she could muster, she placed her hand back on Sherra's swell. Her eyes widened again when she felt the kicking, and the fearful frown turned into a wide, amazed smile. The corner of her eyes held tears when she looked at Sherra. "Amazing..."

"It is, isn't it?" she giggled and leaned back into the pile of cushions she had stacked for herself. The days were getting very tiresome with the extra weight, and her soreness was beginning to irate her husband. She needed to do something to steal his fear away. Curiously, she asked if Emma had ever felt a baby kick before.

She shook her head. "No...when Relm was pregnant, I...I'm told I wasn't allowed to touch her stomach."

"Why in heavens not?" Sherra asked, frowning.

Emma took her hand away and tucked it safely on her lap, looking away. "I...they said that I didn't understand being gentle, that I was too young." Emma did not remember much from that time, very little of it would come back to her after the fever that had left her all but a cripple in her bed for a month. The pregnancy had been one of those forgotten memories, though even at the time she knew she couldn't have understood it. She was just a child herself. It wasn't until later that she fully understood when it was explained to her by her parents that Relm had been with child, and that her inability to be gentle—as all children—would have been a risk.

That had been a time of utmost confusion and fear for her. For a year she couldn't recall her guardians, or her parents, or her brothers. There was nothing of familiarity to her life. When Relm and Gau had told her about her parents, after a week from waking, she had cried. Not only because the gentle strangers who had lingered with her from her waking moments were not her parents, but because she had forgotten those who were, and were like to again. When she heard about her brothers...she had never wanted something more than to meet them.

Emma felt a stirring of unease then. She hadn't thought about it all in so long it felt went on to experience that fever again around the age of eleven, but thankfully it did not erase her entire life from her, just that year. Emma still wondered to this day if she would remember it all some day.

"Now, what has you so lost in thought?" Sherra asked as she put another one of her pieces into the puzzle.

"Nothing," she mumbled, just staring at her pieces.

Wishing to cheer her up, Sherra said, "He is kicking again, if you want to feel."

Emma nodded hesitantly and slowly put her hand back on her belly. The little bumps came fiercely. After a moment, Emma's smiling face came, and then her laughter. It was such a rare thing these days, that Sherra simply watched, smiling. "What a sight," she said, catching Emma's gaze. The smile was still there, but the laughter had gone. At her quizzical look, Sherra added, "That smile and your laughter...it is a wondrous thing to appreciate."

The joy in her expression vanished completely, and instantly. She looked back down at her hands, now twisting through each other, either afraid or embarrassed. "I didn't mean to upset you, Emma, it is just whenever you smile I think it should be pointed out...not just because you rarely do these days, but because it is also beautiful and endearing." Emma looked none too pleased by it, and she laughed a little, afraid she had greatly mis-steped. "Why...if I didn't know any better, the thought of such annoys you."

"Of...of what?"

"Why...being something to catch the eye of." she said in a matter-of-factly sort of voice. "Didn't any boy ever say such to you?" The blush that crossed face was more than telling. "Oh...so there was a lucky lad, was there? Well, why shouldn't he say it? You are quite beautiful." in fact, it is part of your troubles, she thought pitifully. She knew her husband would not have as much interest beyond power in the princess had she not been so attractive.

"I'm not," she mumbled. "But...but there was a boy."

"I see," she drew herself closer. "Would you tell me about him?"

Emma looked at her suddenly, fearfully. "I...I can't. He...if he knew..."

The princess meant Bertrand, of course. It was common knowledge within the castle that the princess had been infatuated with a certain young man back in Figaro. Sherra had already known such, but she didn't want to rush the girl from that position. It would be wrong. It came to the anger of Lucas and the humor of her husband, and when ever they ordered the princess to talk of him, she would refuse. And that had caused the king to forbid she ever speak of him, since she was so keen on it, or else risk pain. Sherra sighed. "And how could that man find out? It is just you and I."

Emma glanced worriedly towards the door before thinking on how best to describe Alexander. The thoughts stirred up grief and happiness all at once, and a deep longing to be with him again. With her family. She swallowed against the cries that were threatening her and said, "His...his name is Alexander Gabbiani." the name made Sherra twitch a bit, but she urged the princess on. "He...he was kind to me when others weren't."

"How so?"

Lips quivering, she said, "He didn't c-c-care that I looked weird, or s-s-stuttered or...or that..." the tears finally broke free, and she sunk away from the queen, to cry. Sherra leaned forward to touch her knee.

"Have faith, my dear...surely you will see him again."

Emma shook her head, rubbing stubbornly at her tears. "I know I won't...he..."

"He what?"

"He won't be there," she mumbled, sniffing.

Sherra let the quiet linger for a moment before saying, "I don't think that's true and I don't think you believe it, either." Emma looked up at her with furrowed brows and a red nose. "You love him, that much is clear, and I don't believe that Emma Figaro could not believe in those she loves."

Emma tried to say something, but the doors flew open and in stormed Bertrand, with two soldiers and Alveri. Sherra got to her feet quickly, struggling, and stepped toward them, as if it act a shield. Emma went rigid and as pale as milk.

"Bertrand," she said, looking across the faces. "You...you said it was her free day."

He looked at her. "And she will never know them again if you think to question me." she stepped away, conceding, but her face still wore that fury. Bertrand turned his gaze to the exiled princess. "For days you have been brought to the labs, and for days there has been no change. Alveri tells me the process is vital in discovering a method that works, some sort of elimination process I'm told, but I grow impatient."

Emma gaped dumbly. "I...I don't..."

His voice was strained with anger, but controlled. "You will have one chance to transform, here and now, before I force it."

"T-transform?" she echoed, eyes wide. She focused her eyes on Sherra, questioningly, and that only drove Bertrand into further anger. He strode forward and grabbed her by the throat. "Do not look to her! Look at me, you ignorant slut!" he shook her, rather violently. "Transform! Now!"

"I'm sorry!" she cried, holding his wrists even as he tightened his grasp. "I...I don't...I don't understand!"

Alveri coughed. "If I may, your grace...I do not believe the girl knows." that caused Bertrand to let her go instantly and glare back at him. His demand was clear even without words. "I do not think her parents told her about her...blood."

"How can that be?" he snarled. "How could they have not told her?!"

Alveri's eyes quickly dashed from him to the girl and then back again. "Your grace...if I may be so bold..."

"What?"

"Let us discuss this in more...private quarters."

Bertrand anger grew, but he waved a hand. "Fine...later, then. I want her back in the labs right this instance though, am I clear?"

The strange, lanky fellow nodded and bowed, almost at the same time. "Of course, of course..." Alveri motioned to the soldiers, and they hurried in to pick the princess up. Sherra took a step forward.

"Bertrand..."

He stopped by the door, just after the soldiers and Alveri left with the girl. "I should think you more intelligent than to question me just after a warning."

"That...that isn't what I intended," she mumbled. "I just wanted to ask you to...to please...don't let them kill her."

He laughed. "If that is all..." the smile was mocking. "...you have nothing to fear. I would never harm something so precious to me." and then he left.

•••••••••••

The laboratory had changed some since her last visit. The area was largely cleared and cleaned, and the storage shelves had been reorganized. The vents on the ground now exhaled heat into the room, and it was strangely very comforting. Alveri was standing near a flat table, wide and smooth like glass. He was smiling, practically split from ear to ear. Johl was at the end of the table, sitting down on a round chair. It rolled with him as he scooted himself towards a desk topped with phials and such.

"Forward," one of the soldiers said, pushing, but not hard. Emma stumbled a bit over her own feet but managed to make it to the table. The soldier left her there, so Emma leaned her weight into the table, trembling. Alveri clapped his hands together, catching their attention.

"It is good to have you back, little one," he slapped a hand on the surface of the table. "It will be good to finally start testing your blood."

The word lingered in her mind. They had mentioned her blood earlier, and something about her parents not talking to her about something, but what? "My...my blood?" she asked, but he ignored her, turning to the table to grab something and then around the table he went.

"Never you mind that, it isn't what you are here for." he gestured to the table. "Come now, lay down." hesitantly, she went to do as she was told. He giggled at that and then immediately helped her to lie straighter, a bit forcefully, and then he clasped her arms and legs into bindings. It startled her, so she tugged at them.

"I...I...what did I do wrong? Please..." the tears came.

Alveri laughed, but it was Johl who appeared at her side. "It is alright, this isn't to hurt you," he said, tapping the bindings. "It is to keep you from hurting yourself."

Hurt myself? she thought, staring wide eyed at the good doctor as he turned away. Why...why would I do that? She felt her stomach weakening to the thoughts that soared through her mind. What were they planning to do to her if that was something they were worried about? What could they do to me, to make me hurt myself?

"Alright now, princess," Johl said, coming back into view. "There are some things you need to know before we start. It will help with the process with your cooperation." she couldn't speak. "I will take that as an affirmative. To begin, what we are about to give you will make you very ill until it settles in you. It could mean fevers, stomach aches, headaches and whatnot. Now, when we give you the injection, it will burn...and I do not want to lie to you dear, but it will burn tremendously. You will want to jerk around; do not jerk around. It will only make the pain worse."

"W-why are...why are you d-doing this to me?"

Johl passed a look to Alveri quickly. "The last thing you need to know," he said, ignoring her question. "Is that you have to remain calm...no matter what."

Emma swallowed back her pleas and cries and squeezed her eyes shut, prayer on the tips of her thoughts and tongue. She prayed that whatever it was they were planning to do to her, it would not hurt, or she could not be conscious for it.

A moment later Alveri started to dab the crook of her right elbow with something cold, that smelled pleasant. Then he said, "This will pinch a bit," and without giving her time to ready herself, he pierced her elbow with something. Emma gasped and near bit her lip from it. "Good, good, good," he said, cheerfully, pressing something against her elbow before letting her arm go. "Don't tug about or I'll have to redo the process again."

Emma peaked at what had been done. A strange, opaque tub ran from her elbow to a standing machine behind the men, where Johl was unhooking opaque bags and replacing them with bags filled with some purple-black liquid. Her eyes widened. What...what is that?

"The machine is ready," Johl said, simply, looking over Emma to Alveri. "Have you prepared the secondary machine?"

"Yes, yes! It is all ready, we can begin."

Emma moved her head straight, so she could look at the swinging light above her. Her heart was racing and she felt suddenly sick and clammy. Alveri's face appeared above hers, smiling. "Start." he said, watching her. Emma could hear something power on, its noise much like that of a generator, and let her tears fall.

"We have analyzed your blood," Alveri said, disappearing from her view. "The samples we took have been most helpful. It revealed much about your—"

"Alveri!" Johl snarled. "Not another word."

"Fine," he mumbled. "Regardless, it was helpful. We redrew the serum to closely work with you. Your DNA was incredible, so unique...it was quite a pain to create, but it was doable."

My DNA? she thought. What is he talking about? And then she felt it, a sickness in her stomach and such exhaustion that her eye lids were becoming very heavy. She blinked and blinked, trying to keep the light in clear focus, but it was difficult.

"This is perfectly normal," Johl said, somewhere to her side. "The exhaustion comes before the sickness, but you will be okay. You do not have to stay awake for this...sleep if you wish."

"Sleep!" Alveri's strange face appeared in her view again, scowling. "Sleep?! Well I suppose you could..." he laughed, and disappeared into the dark corners, playing with something metal, and then returned with a wide grin on his face. "I found it. Can you believe what you can lose when you don't pay attention?"

She wanted to reply, to tell him just how right he was, but her head hurt too much to even consider making a noise. He caught the pained expression easily and corked his brows at her. "Oh, oh, the effects are taking hold. So quickly! Oh my!" She blinked, and suddenly confused, she started turning her head, searching for Bertrand. Her discomfort was his amusement after all, why wouldn't he be here? "What are you looking for?" he asked her with a laugh. "We are all that lurks in the shadows, little one." he held something into view then, a needle with yellow liquid in it. "Here, this is to relax you..." but before she could protest, he jabbed it into her neck and her vision began to blacken.

•••••••••••

Emma stirred to a tightness in her chest and the feeling of fire in her head. She jolted awake but her restraints wouldn't allow her to lift herself completely off the surface of the cool table. The sound of buzzing whirled around her but her vision was too clouded to see the source. Something smooth ran across her forearm then vanished as swiftly as it appeared.

Calm voices echoed around her, her dizziness, her drowsiness, started to loosen its grip on her. Two bodies appeared beside her, and then their faces. Johl and Alveri. The strange doctor pressed things to her temples. 'She's waking,' Johl said. 'We should start.'

Start? Emma wondered, desperately trying to keep her mind aware. What had they given her? Why was everything so difficult to do, to think, to say? What...where am I...

'You are right, we should start,' Alveri said excitedly. 'Before the effects wear off.'

'Alright,' Johl mumbled. 'Let's just be careful with her...remember she's...' the voices blurred and she rolled her eyes back, as if that would help clear her vision and head. The buzzing was getting louder. 'Careful, I said!' he barked suddenly but Emma couldn't figure out why. What did they do to her? 'There...carefully remove the tube...that's it, you're almost there...stop, stop, stop!''

What...what's going on...please...tell me.

Johl's blurry face came into view; he was only several inches from her face. He must have known she could not see very well. 'Alright, we're going to start now. Remember what I said earlier? Do you remember?'

No, no...what did you say? Please...don't hurt me...

'Emma?' he encouraged again but placed a hand on her forehead. 'Can you hear me?'' Yes...yes... Emma tried to open her mouth but the words wouldn't come out. Instead, choked groans escaped, exhausting the little energy she had left. That seemed to be enough for him. He removed his hand, said something about her being brave, and then stepped back enough for his face to blur again. 'Alright, let's start.'

Emma could vaguely feel fingers on both of her forearms, some tender enough to cause no pain to her extremely sensitive skin, others hard and cold. Fear gripped her. Oh how much worse was this fear when she could not even move, when she could not even scream or beg for whatever they were doing to stop. Tears built up in her eyes. Mommy...please...don't let them hurt me anymore.

'Emma can you...just a bit...then we're going to be...won't you?' Johl's face appeared again over her own, visibly distraught, especially by her tears. He patted her cheek. 'I'm going to try my hardest to get you out of here quickly...you just have to be strong.'

Alveri appeared over her left side and she wanted to lean away, but she could not. In his hands was a long, thin tube. She could focus her eyes better now, and realized whatever they had done to her was wearing off. The man grinned. 'I think it is time. She's coming through.'

'Go ahead,' Johl allowed through gritted teeth. 'And hand me the container.'

Her breathing quickened as Alveri lifted her left arm, inspecting it, as if trying to find the best spot...for whatever he was going to do. 'I think this will do...definitely do...shall do...Johl, do you think this will do?' he lifted the arm toward Johl who only glared back, hotly. 'Oh, touchy touchy...only trying to have some fun.'

'Have fun on your own time,' he snapped back. 'If you screw this up, we will both suffer.'

'Fine,' the man replied through a crack of a smile. He didn't care for the fact that Bertrand would easily kill him. Was he mad? 'Alrighty then, deary, time to prick and prod to fill you with the mystic m—'

'Cram it Alveri and hurry it up!'

'Tsk, what a bad day you must be having, dear Johl,' he mumbled, revealing a small incision knife. Emma gave a yank against her restraints at the sight, causing the mad man to giggle. 'Oh, deary, I'm not just going to cut you up. What kind of use would you be in pieces?' he clucked his tongue several times. 'No, I prefer you whole for right now. But maybe after...'

Her tears were running down her cheeks now and her chest heaved from her sobs. 'Ahaha, deary, I was only kidding...mostly.'

'I am not going to tell you again!'

This time Alveri turned his gaze to her arm and carefully used the incision knife to cut up a hole for the tube. The pain from the cut wasn't so bad, Emma had experienced it before, but it wasn't the knife or the tube that was hurting; one of them had done something to her leg, tightened it beyond what she could bear and she cried out in pain. 'Oh, the IV tubing doesn't hurt,' he said in a very obvious "stop being a baby" voice. 'I've done this a million times before and no one else ever cried.'

'You idiot,' Johl growled, toward Alveri. 'She's not crying over the IV tube.' he looked toward the bindings. 'Remove that damn restraint off her leg.'

Alveri tried to protest. 'But—'

'But nothing! The tibia bone is fractured and that is hurting her. I'd rather not have her squirming when we are prepping her. Now remove the damn restraint.' Alveri was silent for a moment, but then Emma felt the restraint lift off her right leg and her breath evened out. The pain was gone, well, not all of the pain but she relaxed. 'See? Follow my orders and things will go smoothly.'

'I'm starting the injection,' Alveri then said, ignoring what had just happened. He lifted a small container of glass into view. The liquid inside looked like blood, so dark it shone black under the flickering light. Alveri then hooked the IVs to the container that now stood high above her, gravity easing the liquid into the tubes and then into her arm. Soon the liquid was all gone and the mad man gasped, angrily. 'That should have been enough!'

'We just need more,' Johl said, sounding sad. 'We have to overwhelm her with it if it is to work.'

'Don't tell me as if I don't know. I made it, remember?!'

'Alveri, calm down and just get another damn IV!' Johl glanced back over to Emma and leaned down. 'Be strong...be strong for us Emma.' he smoothed her hair down and stood back as Alveri appeared with a larger IV.

'This ought to work. If not, we might need to use the largest capsule.'

'This will work,' Johl said, hopeful. 'I don't think she would survive any more than this as her introduction.'

This time, after setting up the container and the new IV bag, the results were more pleasing to the medical team. Emma's body jerked up against the restraints as the liquid raced through her veins. She screamed and tossed her head, and begged them to stop. She gripped her hands so tightly her finger nails dug into her palms and blood poured out against the surface of the table and against her restraints.

Johl gasped. 'It is too much! It is too much!'

'It is not!' Alveri snapped. 'This is normal, this is—'

'Killing her!' he cut back. 'Stop the dosage, now!'

"Araaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!" the pain was too unbearable; she yanked harder at her shackles, so much harder the chains strained and dinged against the force. The men immediately paused to watch, taken aback so much they forgot their purpose. Suddenly a thunderclap resounded through the room and the men covered their ears, dazed. "Aaaaah!" her body started jerking sporadically and her eyes rolled to the back of her head and then her body continued and no sounds came from her mouth.

All Alveri could do was laugh, shouting how it was working perfectly, but Johl leapt to the girl's side and started his examinations, praying the girl was not on her deathbed. Another thunderclap and Alveri started giggling. 'Emma! Emma! Can you hear me?! It is okay now, please, calm down!'

Her eyes rolled back to look at him and to his horror, they were all black. Suddenly, her leg that was fractured, ripped forward from its loose restraint and was free. The thunderclaps turned to near constant lightning dancing across the room.

"Gaaaah!" her voice was strained, pained. Johl put his hand on her clamped fist.

'Emma, please! Calm down! You will hurt yourself—' a twisting snap of red blew up between them, sending Johl clear across the room and into the wall with a loud 'umpf!'.

She yanked her right arm so hard that the table jostled and the chains snapped at the middle; her arm was free. 'Sedate her! Sedate her!' Johl howled over the storm brewing above them, which now picked up in intensity. The wind alone was hurling things around the room, forcing them to strain against the force. 'Sedate her now! Sedate her!'

Alveri recovered a needle from his side pocket and reached for her left arm that, for the moment, remained shackled. Her eyes snapped to his and before he could push the needle into her arm she howled. A pillar of molten red and black fire spewed from her mouth and engulfed the roof, setting the beams in flames and the roof to explode outward from the force. The same energy from before that threw Johl away started to seep upward from the floor, like wiggling tentacles, hissing and whipping around her body protectively.

One of the tendrils whipped forward and lashed Alveri across his chest, hurdling him into the darker corners of the room before the girl strained to rip herself free of the last shackle.

Johl was frozen in fear. No, not of the girl, but of Bertrand. If this girl escaped with this power they had so graciously unlocked for her, leaving them alone, the king would surely execute them all...probably even Sherra. Another beam of fire poured from her mouth in a gargling, painful roar and that's when Johl realized the girl was not in control, that she wasn't trying to escape them, but the pain. The serum they had given her was, in deed, working, but at a price.

Quickly he leapt to his feet and dashed around the energy arms and dived for the needle Alveri had dropped by the table. When it was in his hands he stumbled back to avoid one of the whipping arms and then turned sharply to run toward the table. One of the arms tried to trip him while others tried to box him in but it was too late for them; he shoved the needle into the upper part of her left arm and pumped the sedative into her system.

One of the arms, in a last ditch effort, smacked him away and ripped the chain away from her last shackle.

The girl rose, sluggishly, with eyes the color of raven feathers, and dropped off the side of the table. The arms vanished instantly and the girl's body arched, rigidly, and the floor glowed red hot. Steam rolled off the surface and where her palms touched the ground began to sag, melting away in gurgles and pops. "Araaaaaah!" and then, suddenly, the storm began to evaporate and her eyes rolled to the back of her head, then she collapsed. The floor remained damaged, as did the roof, but all the other effects had gone away as as well.

The sedative worked. And thankfully before the girl could do whatever it was she was planning.

Alveri got to his knees, looking dreadfully at the girl yet with pride. "We have done it...it worked!"

Johl knelt down beside Emma, looking at the peaceful and pretty face of the princess again, and not...whatever it was from before. "Help me lift her to the table. If I try it myself, I'll risk damaging her leg even further."

"Forget it," Alveri ordered, though he had no real command. "We should inform his majesty of what transpired here first. The girl's comforts can be dealt with later."

"He will know," Johl said, glancing over his shoulder towards the strange doctor. "For now though, you do as you are told and help me move her!"

Alveri grumbled angrily before complying. He carefully lifted her from the waist down and Johl took her torso and arms. They laid her atop the table once more and straightened her out so that she could not roll over and fall off too easily. As Alveri mumbled about being done, and that they should hurry, Johl removed his lab coat and placed it over Emma. "Come now, before Bertrand happens along!"

"Alright, alright," Johl gave the girl one last look before they turned off the lights and left.

Bertrand was in an applicable mood. He had just seen his wife and talked of her pregnancy, and as strange as it sat against the rest of his character, he was a man who loved his children...in his own way. When they arrived in the solar room, Bertrand was locked in an argument with his wife, who was screaming over the death of their last child and demanding he never say she killed him again. Johl wanted to turn around and leave, but Alveri announced their arrival loudly.

The king shushed his wife by sealing her mouth over with his hand. "There best be a good reason as to why you two have interrupted a private discussion!" Sherra ripped away from his hand and glared daggers at him, wanting nothing more than to tear out his eyes. "Speak up!"

Johl hesitated and then cleared his throat. "The girl has reacted as we planned. The injections of Esperian blood took...took a promising course."

Alveri grinned. "And by 'course' he means the girl nearly killed us and set our lab up in flames!" the man didn't sound afraid of what had nearly been, but rather incredibly excited.

Sherra covered her mouth, worried, even as her husband chuckled and strode up to them. "Is the abomination still in the labs?"

The strange doctor answered for him. "Yes, though we had to sedate her to revert her transformation. It appears she is not in control of such powers though, so the process must go a bit slower as we prepare the secondary serum and introduce it to her system."

"We should discuss our security system as well," Johl said. "If we hadn't made it to her in time, she would have killed us and escaped the facility with ease."

Alveri rolled his eyes. "The next time we will be prepared for her...reaction. Sedatives worked flawlessly, even in her transformation state it seems, but I think I figured out a way to quickly apply a dosage should something like that happen again."

Bertrand took the information in strides, and then nodded. "Good, do what you must to for the rest of the testing and injections." he said, "You said she nearly destroyed the lab?"

Was that all he had heard? Johl nodded. "Yes, your majesty, she had summoned fire and...and something else, I'm not sure what. They were...arms."

Alveri grinned. "We could show you the damage, sir, if you wish it."

"Yes, yes, of course." he turned his head slightly to Sherra. "I must check the state of the abomination's abilities, but I will have soldiers bring her to her room afterward. Be sure that she is well taken care of for the morning. Testing must resume." and then they disappeared as a group, leaving Sherra all alone.

•••••••••••

Several hours later soldiers came by with Emma, and to Sherra's surprise, they were the kinder soldiers. They took all available precautions at moving the girl, and covered her with their cloaks and brought her via a rolling table. They explained that the girl's leg was fractured, somehow—they said they weren't clear on the details—and so she should not move around too much or risk healing it wrong. One of the soldiers even offered to help with tending to the girl, but Sherra dismissed him, wishing not to get him into trouble should it get back to Bertrand. He smiled, bowed and left her be.

The first thing that she did when she was safely tucked away was set the girl's leg, with the best of her ability. She had seen Johl do so a few times herself, and was shown, but seeing and doing were two completely different things. At one point she tightened it too much and made the girl cry out, but eventually she had it squared away just fine. Then she settled the girl in her bed and went about cleaning the room—nervously, of course—before setting herself to rest in the chair beside the bed.

Sherra was preparing tea the next morning when Emma finally woke, groaning gently. When she turned for the bed, the princess was already trying to sit up. Sherra hurried to her side and gently laid the girl back down. "No, Emma, you mustn't move yet...your leg has been hurt."

Emma reached, shakily, to touch her head, eyes squeezed shut. "Where...where..."

"You are back in your quarters now, dear, you are safe for now."

Tears rolled down her cheeks. "What...what did they..."

Sherra took her hand. "I'm not sure what they did, but for right now the most important thing is for you too—"

"They—they did s-something to me..."

The queen tightened her grasp on the girl's hand and leaned down to kiss her forehead. "You need your rest, Emma, please...the rest of the day will be hard."

"I—I don't want to sleep." The girl looked away from the queen's gaze, toward the closed windows. "Can...can we just stay up? Just—just for a bit?"

Sherra smiled and sat down beside her bed. "We can stay up. We can talk. We can read. We will do whatever you want."

Tears glistened in her eyes and she smiled. "Thank you Sherra."

---

It had been some time since Alexander had last seen Maranda. He missed the architecture and the smells, and the soothing sound of music carrying from the studios. Even the rivers that had become the main method of transportation post Apocalypse was something he missed when it irritated him before. As he wondered down the cobbled streets, taking in the sights, his thoughts carried to Emma.

She would love to see this place, he caught sight of a man painting a couple. If only I had taken her away...maybe none of this would have happened. It was not possible for him to change the past, he knew it. The only choice he had now was to get her back, to save her no matter the cost. First things first, he told himself as he pushed open the doors to a coast side tavern. The inside was well lit, and cleaned. There weren't a lot of people inside, it was in the afternoon. In the far back of the room, sitting alone at one of the tables, was the man that Alexander had wrote ahead to.

Alexander paid the waitress at the counter before making his way over to the table. He sat down, frowning. "I didn't expect you would actually be here..."

The man glanced up from his dish of half eaten food. "I was intrigued."

"Aye, by the gil," Alexander said, smiling.

The man shrugged. "Let us say it was half and half, then." he leaned forward, scooting the plate out of the way. "Now, before I go any further and agree to anything, you need to tell me more about this situation that was so urgent."

"You have heard of the war between Figaro and this so called Roskovo?"

"Aye."

"Do you understand why it was started?"

"Honestly?" the man leaned back. "No. There are a thousand rumors out there, but not a lick of them make sense."

"What do you suppose then?"

The man considered that for a moment, and then said, "Roskovo is seeking something Figaro has."

Alexander gave his friend a tired smile. "That's close to the mark. The truth is...the royal lineage of Roskovo started the war to get a hold of the princess of Figaro."

That brought the man into the discussion with great interest. "And why would that dingy country need a lion cub?"

Alexander's brows furrowed and ignoring the question, repeated, "Dingy?" he frowned. "You say that as if you know it."

"Where do you think I have been the last two years?"

Alarmed, Alexander asked, "How did you find out about the country? Not even the kingdoms knew about it."

"The merchants I was working with carried them goods, to my surprise. I remained behind to help with some coastal constructions for some of the mayors there. They paid very well."

"When the hell did you come back then?"

The man laughed. "Not too long ago, five or so months ago. I wasn't too keen on remaining in a place that was itching to imprison non-natives in fear of their lord's wrath."

"That makes you all the more perfect for this job," Alexander said. "If you have been there, then you will know how I can—"

The man lifted his hand to stop him from continuing. "Wait...you can't be serious. You desire to go to Roskovo? Did you not hear the part about the war? And imprisonment?"

"I did."

"And you still want to go?"

"I do."

The man considered him for a long moment and then asked, "Why? What could be worth risking death?"

Alexander shook his head. "For what other reason?" he asked. "For love."

The man nodded and then smiled. "Then we have a lot of work ahead of us, don't we?"

Smiling, Alexander stood. "I knew I could trust you, Robert."

---

It had been a month since he proposed to Cadence, and yet it felt far longer. She had accepted, even yelled at him for taking so long, and by the next day all of his family and friends knew about it. His mother and father, and her parents, were the first to know. Terra had cried and hugged them, and cried some more. His father smiled and congratulated them both. Locke and Celes were far more controlled in their emotions. Celes nodded and agreed it was time, and Locke smiled and asked when the wedding would be.

When? It was a good question. Cambyses couldn't think of a single day forward that would be free, but he knew it had to be soon. He did leave that afternoon as the women huddled together to discuss the plans and what they might need, but it hadn't left his mind since that day. When? When could he afford to set aside the war, Bertrand and his sister? Would there ever be a date?

We should have gotten married privately within the chapel, he thought as all of the terrible things that could happen during the distraction. No...it isn't a distraction. We need something to look forward to in a time like this. And Cadence...she deserves the respect. We have been together for years...I love her and she loves me. He sighed as he pushed open the doors to the solar.

Suon and Hals were gathered there, arguing intensely over something but stopping as soon as they caught sight of him. Suon had returned to the country some few days ago to assist with the kingdom, and was just days away from shipping off back to Roskovo, should nothing come up. They both bowed, but not a one of them spoke. It was clear that they were trying to hide something, and in that they had agreed.

Cambyses approached the table and glanced over the papers and maps gathered there. "What is the issue? Why were you two arguing?"

"Your grace, it is nothing but rumor. You have nothing to worry about—"

Suon cut him off. "It very well could be a rumor, your grace, but I think it is worth pursuing."

"And what rumor would this be?"

Hals looked at something on the table. "We received a man at one of our camps in Roskovo."

"Received a man?" he pressed, brows furrowing."

"He defected to Figaro," Suon mumbled. "We received word of him only yesterday. He claims to have been within the castle grounds, working security for the royal family."

"And why the hell have you decided this is not something I needed to know?!"

"Because, this is not the first man to attempt to defect. All of the others had been spies, and this one could very well be another. We desired more time to evaluate him before we told you of him. Hals had the right of concern, I do not argue that, but there is more to this defected soldier than...than all of the others."

"Different in what way?"

Hals shifted on spot, uncomfortable. "Your grace, perhaps you should wait until we can verify—"

"Tell me what this is about, and now."

"He claims to have been in contact with the princess numerous times." Suons had said quietly.

Cambyses gaped. "And...and do we have reason to suspect he is lying?"

"Not at the moment, but the last man before him lied very well." Suon said.

"It seems...perhaps this one is real," Hals added. "But we need to exercise extreme caution with this sort of situation."

"I want the man debriefed immediately, and entirely. Then I want him brought to Figaro."

"Of course, your majesty, but if he should be a false—"

"I have made myself clear!" Cambyses snapped. "I cannot risk losing him if he is real. You two will be able to thoroughly question him here, as well. I want it done."

"Yes, your majesty." they both said, bowing.

"Is that all?" Camb asked them after a minute.

"No, it certainly is not. With this defecting soldier, we came across intelligence from our spies within the castle. They are warning us that it grows more dangerous by the day to do what they are doing, but they promise to keep going so long as they can."

"That is wonderful news," Camb said. "I want whatever they need granted to them so that they can continue. If they ask for gil, give them whatever they need."

"Yes, as you say, but there is one other thing," Suon said. "We have received intelligence that within the coming months, Bertrand intends to start raiding the coastal cities nearest to Roskovo."

Cambyses scoffed. "Of course...we can never stay one step ahead of the bad news." he sighed. "Fine, so be it. Tell me, how goes securing the western and eastern coasts?"

"It goes well. It is impossible for us to control the west, east and the south though. It is a risk to leave the south so under prepared, but Hals and I believe that if we were pressed from both the west and east, that if Roskovo gains control over our naval bases, we would not last through any assault on Figaro castle."

"Leaving the south so under protected doesn't sound wise to me."

"No, it isn't so sound, but we are under manned and we have no choice. We still have a vast majority of our army stationed within Roskovo, giving aid to locals, converting them to our side and establishing further control. About three thousand more have been shipped to Thamasa from the far north to aid with the blockade, but that may not do anything for Thamasa in the end."

"How many do we have to the south?"

"We have about three thousand stationed at the southern base. And most of them are green, I'm sad to admit."

Three thousand? Cambyses grumbled, feeling pity and fear settle in his stomach. They truly were under manned. If Bertrand were to lay his eyes on Figaro, they would have no real challenge with their forces stretched so thin. What do I do? What would father do? Cambyses knew he could bring the Roskovian based forces back, but it would undo all of the work they had done in the war. And if they ever planned to attack Bertrand and rescue his sister, it would be best if they had a foot hold within the country. It was out of the option to remove them.

I can't leave the green boys to the south to die, he thought. I can't. He looked at his generals. "Bring the men in from the south. I will not have them waste their lives fruitlessly. Station them within the castle and have them under go extensive training."

"Your grace, if we leave the south completely open—"

"I will not have them die, do you understand me?!"

Hals bowed his head. "Yes, of course..."

"I will figure out another way to boost our defenses." or I will try, he thought desperately.

Suon said, "Your majesty, if I may?" Cambyses gestured for him to continue. "What if you discussed an alliance with the Veldt again? Your father has been trying to bring them into an alliance for decades, to rebuild what had been lost in your great, great grandfather's time. Perhaps the threat of Bertrand will be enough to win them over."

Cambyses looked at him ruefully. "If only...my family has been trying for quite some time. They are more than happy to treat with us, even consider us friends, but an alliance with the ancient empire of the Veldt is an exceptionally rare thing. They have only made alliances thrice in their life time, and much of that was within the royal houses. They will never ally themselves with someone unless they are absolutely certain they are friends."

"Is Figaro not that sort of comrade to them?"

"The Emperor and my father are very close friends, that much is true, but the Veldtic concept of friendship is much deeper than the rest of the world. It is like family...and more."

"So there is nothing we could try?" Hals pressed, with a frowning face. "This might be our doom then...but let us face it with courage and honor."

Cambyses sighed. "I won't let this be our end...there is still much more I can do to save this nation, and my sister." and then it hit him. He gaped, stupidly. How had he not considered it before?! "My sister! Of course!" he said aloud, startling the two men.

"Excuse me, your majesty?"

"My sister!" he said again, grabbing Suon by the shoulders and shaking. "The next emperor will be the Seventh Son of the Dawn!"

"Yes, of course, but what does this have to do with your sister?" Cambyses grinned and crossed his arms, corking an eye brow. It was enough for the man to understand, and his eyes widened. "You mean..."

"If it could seal an everlasting alliance between our countries, why not? Thanks to mother and Alexander, we're closer than ever. It is unprecedented that anyone other than the Seventh Son could stand and make such a declaration with such absolute faith on the emperor's willingness to go along with it."

"Are you saying that Amos' promise eludes to the country's willingness to consider us for an alliance?"

"It would have been terminated by the emperor if he hadn't thought it possible, or good."

"And you mean to seal the final piece of this unsaid alliance through your sister?" Hals asked, glancing at Suon. "What could she possibly have to offer him?"

Suon glanced at him, shaking his head at the man's oblivious nature. "She could bridge that gap between the nations through a marriage..." now Hals looked surprised.

"I'm sorry but how could you convince her to accept such a thing, should it come to that point?"

"It will not fall on whether or not she agrees," he said, frowning. "I must make the decision that will save Figaro and ultimately save her."

"Your parents will not stand for this," Suon warned. "Your father refused to entertain that idea and for reason. He believes in her choice, just as he believes it should exist for you and your brother."

"If it comes down to saving my sister and the kingdom, or pleasing my parents and Emma's desires to decide on her husband, I will side with what will save everyone—including my sister. I won't make the decision so easily, but I can't deny it being a valid path for us. I will have to consider it very closely."

"There is no way the prince of the Veldtic empire will approve of or accept a marriage without true consent. It goes against their religious and personal convictions."

"We will work on that when it comes," Cambyses said. "Suon, I would like you to draft a letter to get the prince to come over for the discussion. Do not allude to what I will promise him, but make sure he understands how important it is."

"I am uncomfortable with this," Suon muttered. "But I will do as you request." he bowed and left the room. Hals leaned against the table and locked his gaze with his king.

"I also feel a bit uneasy about this, but in all honesty...I think life might have been different for the princess if your father had gone through with marrying her off to the Seventh Son long ago."

Cambyses had remembered that well. Emma had only been in Figaro for just a few months and it was clear by her denial to three other academies due to her differences was going to present a challenge to the good quality of life they wanted for her. Their father had met with several of the princes many times to discuss it. Most of them denied even considering the marriage, stating that she was too young. It was Amos that suggested to Edgar to call over the Seventh, to measure him of his worth, and present his daughter's hand.

The day that the Seventh had come to Figaro was the day that they had to resign expiring deals and treaties—when his sister had ran into the solar, where the prince was awaiting their father's return. Cambyses had been chided endlessly for messing with Emma so thoroughly she interrupted a meeting to seek reprieve. Their father had thrown the consideration out after a few days and sent the Seventh Son on his way without ever bringing it up. His father had his reasons, but Cambyses did not share them. He sighed. Where would they all be right now if Emma had been married off to the Veldtic prince? Would she be happy with the dark skinned king-in-waiting? With a large litter of servants following her around everywhere, decorated in all of the fine attire and jewelry that princesses deserved and dreamed of?

He frowned. No. That wasn't his sister. She would have been miserable, but at least she would be safe. "My father had his reasons for denying the match, but...life would have been so much better if he had gone through it. You are right on that account. Right now her biggest concerns would have been what to wear or what to eat..."

Hals laughed. "Aye...that seems like the princess."

A moment of saddened silence followed them.

"If I make the decision, it will be fine and...and my father will just have to accept it." he said. "And so will everyone else."

---

The room was chilly.

Emma shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. Cool air rattled through the small grates cut into the floor beside the gurney she sat on, just a gentle hiss in the room against the clank and clicking of glass and tools being used. At the far end of the room, the strange figure of Alveri worked at a table. He kept mumbling to himself, clearly annoyed. At the far right of Alveri, the gentle and lanky figure of Johl. He was quiet, unlike his scientific comrade.

Since three days ago, she had felt sickly and tired. On that day, she had gotten yet another injection of the foul concoction Alveri cooked up, and at the angry demands of the Roskovian king, there were to be more. And far more quickly in between. Before she had kept a journal of what she felt or what happened after each injection, leading up to the following week's next, but a week ago Bertrand had caught her writing in it during one of his visits. When he saw what the contents were, he was furious and demanded she not tell Alveri or Johl of her symptoms—less it get in the way of her injections. Emma swore to it, fearing the anger that laid within.

Now she sat there, shivering and thinking of the warmth of her bed. And a chance to lie down and escape the whirling in her stomach and the pain behind her eyes. It made it very difficult to keep her eyes open, and focused on the men. Alveri approached first and forcefully took her arm and held it out for inspection. The old bruises of the prior needles marked her arm. Alveri wiped something across the crook of her arm—something cold—and then jabbed another needle in. Emma winced but held back a recoil that would have made the doctor angry and hurt her more.

"Quit that now, little one, it hurts nothing." Emma squeezed her eyes shut when he brought out another needle. "Really now, such a frightened thing!"

"Alveri, leave her be," Johl snapped, leaving his spot.

"Leave her be?" Alveri gasped. "And when Bertrand finds out that I 'left her be', what then?"

Johl passed the man a strange look. "Why would Bertrand care one way or another if she fidgets during her injections? All that matters is if it is done."

"Because fidgeting," Alveri said, dropping his iron clad grasp on her arm. "Makes injections harder. Surely our king would be annoyed by that."

"Let me worry about the princess and Bertrand, Alveri," he told the man. "Go and process the samples." the man grumbled but did as he was told. When they were alone, Johl knelt before her and took her hands. He inspected them for a few seconds before taking her pulse. It was steady, so he asked her to look at him—she had kept her eyes on her toes—and then he shone a little light in her eyes.

Emma squinted against it.

"Keep your eyes open please. I know it is painful, but the tests need to be done in a specific way." Emma complied, and when it was over, gentle tears burned in her sensitive eyes. "There, you did very well." as Johl stood, he put the little light tool into his shirt pocket and asked her to open her mouth. When she did, he inspected it and hmm'd to himself for a second. "It seems you still have a bit of bleeding in your mouth...when did this start up again?" She kept her eyes down and shrugged pathetically. "You don't know?" he pressed, sounding curious. "Hmm...what happened to the journals I told you to keep? Are you still writing in them?"

"I...I..." she swallowed hard, terrified. "I...I ran out of s-s-supplies."

Johl regarded her carefully, arms still crossed. "Why didn't you ask Sherra for more?"

Emma turned her eyes to Alveri, who was back at the tables, digging through things with impatient speed. She glanced back at Johl, paling. She shook her head. Johl caught it immediately, and frowned. "Is something wrong?" he knelt and took her hand, gently. "Alright..." he glanced back at Alveri and then said, "So Sherra tells me that you have been asking about the baby a lot more." Alveri grumbled something at that, but his attention was officially lost on them. "Is there something you would like to know?" when Alveri walked off to another end of the room and Johl brought his voice to a gentler whisper. "Did someone tell you not to say something?"

Emma trembling, shook her head, but she could not hold back her tears.

"Emma," he said, frowning. "This is serious. I need to keep track of your symptoms, and how the injections are going. I can't do that if you are not talking to me."

"I...I can't," she told him, glancing at Alveri. "I...I can't."

"You can," he insisted. "If it comes down to Bertrand, I will talk with him. He will not stand in the way if I tell him denying me this information could cost him what he desires entirely." he patted her hands. "Now please...tell me how things have been since the last visit." at her hesitation, he prompted her with, "Have there been any new symptoms?"

Alveri heard, and giggled. "Besides the vomiting, you mean?" Emma shifted slightly at the comment and looked away. "Whatever she claims she is experiencing will just be another fabrication. The girl lies as she breathes."

"I did not ask for your input, Alveri," he snapped. "So keep it to yourself." he pressed Emma then. "Well, is there anything you would like to say?" Alveri laughed loudly at her continued silence and then left the room. "Alright Emma...alright." Johl stood. "Let us get you back with Sherra." he helped Emma off the gurney. "Oh, and maybe we can discuss the pregnancy when we find her."

They did not find the Roskovian queen in the exile's quarters, or in her own. Instead they found her in one of the twelve massive gardens of the castle, planting in a bed of rich soil. Emma smiled and hurried over to the woman, kneeling and immediately asking her what she was doing. The smile on her face was so earnest, that Johl was taken aback. How did she find something to feel joy over, despite it all? He smiled tiredly as he approached.

"They are an edible berry, dear," he heard Sherra answer, revealing her hands to the girl. They were full of oblong seeds. "We call them zilberries."

"Zilberries?" Emma curiously leaned over the dirt to look into the open holes the queen had filled. "And...and they can be eaten?"

"Of course," Sherra said with a tinge of laughter. "They taste a lot like blueberries. We have a few ripe bushes on the other side of this garden, if you would like to test them."

"I can? For true?"

The queen laughed. "Of course you can. Why don't you go over and I'll meet you in a few minutes, hmm?"

"Just a few minutes?" Emma asked hesitantly, as she stood. The look of uncertainty, of fear, in her eyes drew Johl in. It had been said before, that the princess' sole ally and confidant, was the queen, but now Johl felt he understood it better. Just how little the princess had, and how much she put into what she did have here in this forsaken country. Once the queen assured the girl she would only be a few minutes, the princess hurried off.

Sherra stood and faced him. "We must talk, and do so quickly and quietly. She will be able to hear us otherwise."

He nodded. "What do you wish to discuss?"

"Emma, of course," she mumbled. "Has she informed you of her health lately, of her fits?"

"Fits?" he asked, furrowing his brows. "Whatever do you mean by that?"

Sherra glanced towards the area which the princess was currently distracted by, frowning. "It is a terrible thing, Johl...she just starts to," and then she hesitated, turning to look at him again, with tears in her eyes. "She starts twitching."

Curious, he asked her, "Interesting...what do you mean by twitching, exactly?"

"I don't know how to describe it," she answered him, letting every ounce of her frustration and anger out towards him.

"Please, try to explain it the best that you can."

Sherra frowned. "I...I will try." she beckoned to a nearby stone bench and sat with a sigh. "When it happens, it is as if she cannot hear a thing, nor can she speak...at least not coherently. She starts with these...these awful tremors."

"And what does she do before and during these episodes, and after they have passed?" he asked. "How does she seem?"

"Before?" she repeated quietly, tearfully. "Oh Johl...it is terrible. She spaces out, as if she is not even there. Sometimes she cannot see a thing, other times she is blinking excessively or she cannot breathe." she let her tears fall. "I...I have never seen someone convulse like this before, Johl. I'm...I'm afraid."

"I understand," he said, as he took her hand. "But your valor will keep her, against it all." he patted her hand. "Now...what happens after these episodes?"

Sniffing, she continued. "She becomes forgetful, often she cannot remember the day, or other times she is so tired or confused she cannot speak straight."

"However do you mean?"

"It as if she speaks...backwards," the woman mumbled. "I cannot make a lick of sense of her words, but she's insistent on them. The worst episode was a fortnight ago. She was crying as if someone had beaten her silly, and then she started to vomit and couldn't stand straight. And her skin...whenever I touched her, she would scream at the top of her lungs."

"Anything else?"

"Usually that is all that follows, except the last episode she had forgotten her own name for the remainder of the day."

"And when did she remember it?"

"The next morning, after a restful sleep. She couldn't remember not remembering, or the episode itself."

Johl considered the symptoms for a moment before standing. "I will bring this information to Alveri and Bertrand. We must make adjustments to the serum, and how much we inject her with." he shook his head. "I should have taken action sooner, I knew the dosages were too much too soon, but..."

"Johl, this isn't your fault," she whispered, reaching up to touch his arm. "You have only tried your best to keep her alive...to keep as much pain off of her as possible."

Tearing them away from their intimate moment, Emma's voice carried through the garden with the typical liveliness of a girl her age.

"Sherra! Which ones are the zilberries?"

"Give me just a minute dear, I am talking with Johl." she shouted back to the girl, before redirecting the good doctor. "Do not blame yourself for the path that has been laid before her. You are a good man, Johl. Do not forget that."

"I should have done more," he mumbled. "I should do more."

"And risk your life, and that of your sister?" she asked him sternly. "No. I think not. And Emma wouldn't want you to either, if she knew the cost of helping her would be for you."

"Sherra!" the girl cried impatiently.

"I will try more from here on out," he promised her through a whisper, holding her hand tightly. "I swear it."

Sherra smiled and took her hand from his, but the movement was gentle. Caring. "You have done everything for her...for me."

He opened his mouth to speak, but Emma's cries for the woman began again. Sherra sighed. "I must go, before she loses the last of her patience."

Johl chuckled. "A charming thing...be safe, Sherra." he bowed his head to her and hurried away before she could offer a goodbye, one that would hurt.

•••••••••••

Sherra found the girl kneeling beside a batch of bare bushes, digging impatiently into its thorny branches for the edibles she was promised. When she caught sight of Sherra, she stopped immediately and smiled up at her. "Is this the right bush?"

"It is, but they have been cleared already. Here, walk with me. I will take you to a batch we haven't harvested yet." she held her arm out and Emma stood to accept it. The walk was short and brisk, and filled with the rustling of cold wind and the distant howls of construction work somewhere in the castle. When they arrived at the part of the garden Sherra had meant, Emma let go of her arm and hurried towards the bushes carrying the oblong, purple berries.

"Careful dear," Sherra warned. "They will leave a stain, one impossible to remove." and with that, Emma gently reached to pluck one off its branch and straight into her mouth. Her eyes lit up and she reached for more. "You are a gluttonous thing." Sherra said, laughing, as she found a new spot to sit. The standing had already tired her out.

Emma came over with her shirt pulled into a bowl, full of berries. She sat down and started to stuff her face. Sherra giggled and reached to wrap an arm around her shoulder. "You know...zilberries make the most perfect pie filling."

The princess looked her in the eyes, excited. "They do?"

"Of course."

"Can...I mean...m-may we make a pie?"

Sherra smiled. "While I have never made it myself, we could ask if the chefs can prepare us a pie or two. If you would like?"

Emma said, "Could they make an apple p-pie?"

"I thought you wanted one of zilberries?"

The princess frowned after she rubbed off the juice on her lips with her lovely skirt. "Couldn't...couldn't we have both?"

Giggling, Sherra held her closer. "Of course we could. Let us go bother the chefs about those pies, hmm?"

---

The notice came by the end of the month. Cambyses did not expect such an early response, let alone to learn that the grandest prince of the Veldt was nearing Nikeah already. It was clear that the Veldt desired such an alliance too, but even more obvious was that the Seventh Son had other reasons to visit. And it was not hard to pin point the possibly reason. It was almost a blessing, but on the other side of the coin, a curse. If the alliance could be bought with his sister's hand only, then it was dead in the water. Cambyses knew that if it came down to it, he could not trade her hand to the Veldtic Empire, at least not without discussing it with her first. It all stemmed from their need for Figaro against Roskovo.

By the end of the second week, word had reached Figaro that the Veldtic envoy was just half a day's ride from Figaro Castle. Cambyses had his mother and Cadence lead the organization to prepare for the prince's arrival, and that of his company. His mother wasn't entirely pleased, but she helped regardless.

"I don't see why we must host them all," his father was saying, as he stood at the door way, blocking Cambyses in the solar. "The prince is one thing, but why do we have to host the rest of them?"

Cambyses found his father's nervousness and agitation with the idea of his daughter marrying humorous. "You didn't have a problem the last time he came through with his company..."

"I did, actually," the man grumbled, but it was clear he was embarrassed, for the truth was quite the opposite. "He can stay within the castle, in the grand quarters, but the rest will remain in the barracks."

"No," Cambyses said, turning away as he rolled his eyes. "The Veldtic warriors will never leave their grand prince unprotected, and I would never ask them to. I will respect them and their culture, and so will you, like I know you normally would." Cambyses sat in one of the chairs at the table, tiredly. "Father, why is this bothering you all of the sudden?"

Edgar's face turned red. "You know why."

Cambyses smiled a little. "The idea of grandchildren by your daughter?"

"This isn't some sort of joke, Cambyses!"

He lifted his hands to soothe his father. "Alright, alright...I'm sorry, I was just teasing you." he leaned into his chair. "I already told you and mother I am not going to trade her hand off for an alliance."

"And yet we do not believe you."

"And I will put aside how that seems," Camb muttered. "But whether or not you wish to believe me, it is the truth. The only thing I will promise the man is a chance to spill his heart out to her."

That made his father's eyes round and his face turn white. "You promised him what?!"

Cambyses laughed. "Now what is the matter with a talk, father?"

"You know damn well that your sister will feel pressured, unable to say anything but yes. You know—"

"What do I know?" Cambyses challenged, shifting to look at his father better. His father's bitter stare held his. "I know that the grand prince of the Veldt, the oldest power in the world and a family we have been closely knitted with in friendship for centuries, is infatuated with the first princess of Figaro in three generations. I know that he is a good man, a wealthy man, and would do everything in his power to protect her and love her and give her whatever she desires. I know that, if Emma were to accept his proposal, she would be in a place where she could be cherished. She would be happy."

"You know that your sister has feelings for Alexander, you should not be doing this."

"I have done nothing wrong," he snapped. "However, if you and mother keep pushing me on this—questioning my intentions—I will marry her off to Qudin. I will not hear another word on the matter."

"I think you forget quite frequently who made you into a king."

The doors creaked open behind Edgar, and the face of Wren appeared, looking nervous. "Your majesty, the Veldtic party has arrived. Your mother and Lady Cadence have already greeted them at the main gate. I was ordered to inform you on their advance to the grand quarters."

Cambyses thanked him and sent him off to rejoin his mother and Cadence, before standing from his chair and gesturing for his father to follow him. Reluctantly the man pursued. "I do understand your concerns father, I do, but just as I am a son of Figaro, Emma is a daughter of Figaro. I think a sit down with a small, friendly talk with the Seventh Son of the Veldt is more than reasonable to ask of Emma."

"It is too much to ask of her, after all she has suffered." he stormed away after that.

Cambyses waited until he was sure his father went to go brood alone before he left to meet up with his mother and his honored guests. His father's strong objections to his deal stuck with him the entire walk, and it frustrated him. He knew that there was no harm in putting his sister and the Seventh Son into a room for a private talk, but now he felt as if he had stabbed his sister in the back.

Nonsense, he told himself angrily. I haven't done anything wrong!

His mother was already engrossed in a friendly conversation by the time that he arrived. He had hoped to arrive before she could jump into a deep conversation, as he had no idea what she might bring up. Cadence was sitting beside them, also lightly engaged in the discussion.

"I assure you, your majesty, your gardens are every bit as wonderful as the Veldtic gardens."

"Thank you Qudin, you are a very sweet man."

Cambyses knew he blushed. His mother could barely remember her etiquette around other royalty. Thankfully the Veldtic prince didn't seem to mind. "It pleases me to hear you say so," he said, bowing his head to her.

Cadence caught sight of him first, and smiled at him. "Cambyses! There you are...took your time, didn't you? And when we have such important guests." Cambyses knew Cadence enough to know she was plotting something, and that the tone she just used was the one she used when she was pointing something out about him or his behavior.

"I was held up by an unexpected person. I apologize for the tardiness, Seventh." he bowed his head to the prince, who simply smiled at him.

"Please, you do not need to use such titles with me, at least while we are alone. We are all friends here, are we not?"

"Of course," Cambyses smiled.

"I do suppose we must talk of business though."

"We do," he agreed. "Mother, Cadence...if you would."

Terra was aghast. "You want us to leave?"

"Yes...this is between us."

Cadence looked away, smiling tightly against laughter, as Terra's face went red. Cambyses realized far too late that he just set his mother off, and Cadence was humored by what was about to happen to him. "Now you listen here," Terra snapped and stood from her seat. "I spent nine months carrying you and your brother, and seven for your sister. I then spent hours in pain birthing you and your siblings, and then years of rearing you. Through tantrums, through fevers, through everything. I will not remind you again," her voice raised to a leveled anger, and Qudin was watching her with wide eyes of surprise. "that I am and always will be part of whatever you discuss, of everything you do in your life. If I have to remind you again, I will not be happy!"

"Mother—" Cambyses was horrified.

"Do not interrupt me!" she snapped. "I will hear what you have to say to the Seventh Son, Prince of the Dawn, or whatever other title he uses—" Cambyses went flush. Would Qudin become upset by this? "And I will not hear another complaint from you!"

The silence that followed was through Camb's embarrassment, but then Qudin burst out into laughter. "I think your mother is quite serious, Cambyses. You would do well to listen to her." he turned from Camb to Terra. "In all honestly, my lady, we were going to discuss an alliance. My father has given me free reign to decide whether or not we throw out centuries old traditions to accept, and so I shall decide. And, to be frank with you once more, I was going to inquire your son about your daughter."

Her eyes widened. It was exactly what she feared. "My daughter?"

"Yes. I came here today for two reasons. I was going to accept this alliance regardless, rest assured, as I think it should have been done kings ago," he said. "But I needed a good excuse to visit Figaro, so when I offered to have this discussion with your son and see where it goes, it was most perfect for me that my father accepted."

"And what do you wish to talk about that concerns my daughter?" she asked, fearing she knew the answer.

He smiled, and it was clear why every noble lady within his country—and some out of it!—was trying to win his heart. "I wish to marry your daughter."

Cadence coughed over her drink, clearly just as surprised as Terra that the man just out right said it. Terra looked at Camb with such seething, parental rage that he felt like a small child again. Finally, she faced the prince of the Veldt.

"No." she told him. "You will not marry her."

And that Cambyses interject. "Mother!" he snapped, before looking to the prince. "Please, ignore her..."

Qudin laughed. "Why, my lady, that was such a quick response that I am curious as to why you deny this match. If you would not mind sharing, of course."

"I'm sorry Qudin, you are a very sweet man, but I could not in good faith set her up with you nor allow others," she stressed that word. "to try and marry her off."

"Why?" he asked gently.

"She has found someone she already put her heart with," Terra explained, as gently as she could. "It would be cruel to take her away from that."

Qudin was quiet for a long moment, before nodding. "I understand..." he took a deep breath, and then asked, "Then may I ask for the chance to talk with her about it, when she is safely returned to Figaro?"

"What do you mean?"

"I wish for a chance to sit with her and ask for her hand. If she denies me, then so be it. I would just like the chance."

"You have it," Cambyses answered quickly, but the prince silenced him with a hand, and locked his eyes with Terra.

"Do I have your permission, my lady?"

Terra glanced at Cambyses and Cadence nervously. "I...I would have to ask my husband but...but I don't see why not."

He smiled. "Thank you, you are generous beyond measure." he turned to Cambyses finally. "I think all that needed to be said has been said. You have the alliance, and I have my chance to talk with your sister."

"Seventh...Qudin, I feel like there is more we need to discuss—"

"I understand," he interrupted. "However, the day is tiring and I myself have had a long journey. Let us discuss it tomorrow, properly." Unable to find the proper words to say, he simply nodded to the man. "Perfect. Send over a man when we are to sit." he glanced back at the ladies. "Have a pleasant evening, ladies." and then he was gone.

No sooner than he was out of sight, and most importantly ear shot range, Terra pounced on Cambyses with all the fury in the world. "I knew it! You were planning on marrying her off to him!"

He blushed. "No...maybe."

She slapped at his arm. "You are such a jerk!"

"I'm just trying to keep the kingdom and Emma safe. Would it truly be so bad for her to marry him?"

"Yes!" Terra and Cadence shrieked at once.

"Why?" he pressed. "So she could marry someone like Alexander?" their eyes pierced him. "The very man who has never committed to a girl before, who has used them, who even tried to do so with your own daughter? That is the man you want your daughter with, not the prince of a powerful country who would stop at nothing to give your daughter a wonderful life?"

Terra, tearfully, said, "How would that life be wonderful when she could not find love with him? You would ask your sister to live a lonely life, a life where she could not even decide whom she gives herself to?"

"Mother..."

"No, tell me how that would be a wonderful life Cambyses!"

He frowned. He knew it would be wonderful in all other ways. She would have whatever she desired, be it books, instruments or food, and she would have a prince dotting on her every day of her life, something he knew his sister had dreams about. Every girl did...right? All he knew was that he could not let her be led by her emotions again. He could not risk Alexander being another Luke—another bad judgment.

"She would know safety with him," he started. "She would know, by the end of the day, he asked to marry her because he adored her. And through that, she could have everything she wanted in life short of 'love', but even then she may even find it with him." he found that voice, that one that was starting to get louder as a king. The confident tone of his father. "And yet you want to saddle her with a man of nothing who has never shown an ounce of love for another person that was not his kin? You would have her harp all of her dreams, all of her love, on a man she cannot at the end of the day determine for real if he feels anything for her beyond lust?"

"Cambyses, he said—"

"I know what the god damn fool said!" he snapped. "Men lie, mother! To get whatever they want. Alexander has shown that behavior countless times. And I should think, after all of the bad decisions Emma made—particularly with Luke!—that you would be more cautious as to let her exercise her own feelings so freely!"

Terra let her tears fall, but it was the anger that she was trying to contain. "You dare to bring up Luke?" he frowned. "As if she had any reason to suspect that he...that he..."

"That's not what I meant. I just meant that Emma has shown she doesn't make the best decisions and—"

"How dare you," she snarled and then she turned and stormed off. Cambyses was flabbergasted. He turned for Cadence for support, but she shook her head at him.

"I am beginning to doubt whether or not there is a brain in that head of yours, Camb." and then she too left, though not so much in a fury.

Cambyses stared after them, completely confused and annoyed.

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I went through so many revisions of this chapter. I had so much I wanted to capture in the chapter, and so little room to do it in. I don't want to push 50-60k chapters on the readers unless it is absolutely necessary. That said, it may still happen in the future. lol

Anyhow, that's it for this chapter. I have so much more planned for the rest of the chapters, and the final chapters (this means NEW chapters). I really hope you guys enjoy what is to come! Thank you for reading! :)