Trigger warning: physical and sexual violence

- Dæor -

Laughter. Laughter, all around me. Giggles and shrieks and full-out bellows. The amount of happiness in the room is absolutely crazy.

Someone slides up to me, and I don't need to turn to know it's Keiti. "Pretty big party, huh ? You sure outdid yourself this time, D," she comments, before taking a swig from her goblet. I take a sneak peek. All safe - it's apple juice. She pretends to ignore my gaze and adds: "Don't you dare say you have nothing to do with this." She brushes the air with her arm in a graceful, wide movement. "This euphoria... It's yours. Claim it for once, D." She winks at me, and changes subjects just as quickly. I had forgotten how fast her mind changed, how it would flit from thought to thought like a beautiful butterfly. "Brin was delighted to hear of our success when I returned the horses, especially considering that he was the one who tipped us off." She takes a sip. "Sheso, I love that man. He's so whole-hearted and dedicated." I nod. "I don't know what we would do without him. He... He didn't deserve what happened to his family." She agrees, tight-lipped, to my comment.

Brin's father was a farmer, just like his own father and grandfather and all the ones before him. Brin continued in his ancestors' path, but quickly became affluent due to his resourcefulness. His lands tripled in size, his output grew exponentially. And so did his wealth. Of course, the local Isfalt wasn't pleased. Though Brin was - and remains - a free man, the Isfalt still had power over him. Our friend never told us how, but his family perished at the hand of the noble, leaving Brin with wealth but no one to share it with. The Isfalt's wife took pity upon Brin, and convinced her husband to let him keep the farm. But the farmer was a changed man, despite the Isfalt's act of mercy. He turned to us, and now regularly lends us his horses. He's invaluable to our group.

"How's my pie ?" asks Keiti, interrupting my thoughts. I look down at the piece in my hand. Or rather, what's left of it. I lick the remaining few crumbs and reply: "Absolutely revolting."

"Uh-huh," she nods, unconvinced.

"Absolutely disgusting," I insist. "By the way, don't bother eating that piece. It'll make you vomit all over your lovely yellow battle clothes." Before she can't say anything, I lift the piece of pie balanced on her fingertips up and shove it in my mouth in one go. "Hey !" she exclaims. "You-"

"You were asking for it," I interject, crumbs spraying everywhere. She recoils in disgust at the dessert flying out of my mouth. "Fine," she huffs. "I'll go get another piece. I might have been tempting you just a tiny little bit," she throws over her shoulder.

Ha ! Knew it. I gulp and wipe off the remaining jam off my lips, but not my smile. That one can stay.

A cool breeze suddenly blows into the mess hall and ruffles my hair. I frown and lean to try getting a glimpse of the main hall. Ugh, someone forgot to close the gate. With a barely concealed groan, I make my way out of the camp and into the open.

It's the chilliness that hits me first. Compared to the heat emanating from two hundred tightly-packed bodies in the mess hall, this is freezing. I shiver and cross my arms over my chest. The darkness is really thick tonight. I squint my eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of something among the trees, but I can't spot anyone. Maybe the rebel who opened the gate came back inside. I'm about to head back myself when something catches my attention. Deep in the forest are yells.

Automatically, my hand goes to the hilt of my sword. I scan the trees before me, but they stay stoic and tall, refusing to tell me anything. I order my heart to slow down, and push the worst scenarios away. There's no way that those sounds come from Guards. Definitely no way. They couldn't have possibly found- What if they followed us ? Fear hits me hard, harder than the cold. I need to close the gate. I need to protect the others. But the gate can only be closed from the inside. And I don't have time to warn everyone.

My feet are a blur as I dodge the trees and sprint towards the noise. Shadow is drawn. My heart is racing, but my hand is steady. Faster and faster, I move deeper into the forest. The cries are getting so loud. They are all I hear. They overpower my senses, invading my ears, overflowing into my head and waterlogging my brain, so much that I almost don't notice as I stumble into the crowd.

I freeze. Only my fingers move as I tighten my grip on Shadow. I am in the middle of a throng of moving, yelling bodies, but no one seems to be taking notice of me. They aren't wearing the Guard uniform - in fact, nothing of them resembles the King's force. These howls would never be tolerated in the Guard, let alone on a stealthy mission such as invading the rebel base. My eyes dart around, taking everything in. Wait... I recognize these people. Rebels.

My lack of amusement wiggles onto my face and hardens into a scowl. What are they doing here ? What are they even yelling at anyways ? We're in the middle of the forest, next to a small rounded pond. The rebels around me seem to be yelling and gesturing towards something, but I can't make it quite out. There are too many people in front of me blocking my view. I clench my jaw. Couldn't Sheso have made me taller ?

A tree catches my eye. Its lowest branch juts out like an invitation which I just have to accept. Grabbing it with both my hands, I heave myself up and onto the tree. My new height gives me a view of everything, including... Evangeline ?

It is indeed Evangeline. She has grabbed someone - a girl, I think - by the throat, but their backs are to us, so I can't see who it is. But the girl is holding a sword. With surprising speed, Evangeline's hand darts out and almost snaps the girl's wrist. What happens next is a blur, and next thing I know, Evangeline is a meter away from her assailant, the sword in her hand and a smoldering look in her eyes. In a swift, smooth movement, she steps away and onto a rock by the pond's shore. She towers over the group, her sword pointed at them. "Now, you are going to all shut the hell up and listen to what I'm about to tell you. And the next time you call me Princess, I will rip your heads off."

The violence of her words snaps me out of my torpor. What am I doing ? I have to interfere. Evangeline can't just attack other people like that !

As soon as the thought forms in my head, it evaporates into twisting mists the color of shame. Really ? Is that really what you think, Dæor ? There's a crowd with cries of murder halfway up their throat, a girl who had a sword in her hand. Some of the faces in the throng shine out and catch my eye: Thet, Pina, Ian. And doesn't Evangeline look wet ?

Red creeps on the edges of my vision and I clutch my sword so hard my fingers go pale. Of course they attacked her. Can't we have one night ? Just one ? I sigh. Someone has to interfere before Evangeline gets torn apart. Though she did defend herself well. A smile tugs at my lips, and I let myself glance at her. She is wet. Drenched, in fact. Her clothes sag under the weight of water whilst her strands of pearly hair, always flowing down her back, now hang limp at weird angles. But my eyes fly over all of those things. Her eyes... I have seen in them embers, maybe sparks. Never this. Never this full-blazing bonfire.

"My name is Evangeline Eleanor of Methron. They call me a princess, but I am not my father's daughter." She inhales. I can tell she's nervous. But I also know she's too riled up to care. "The King and the Queen - before my birth, mind you- were very much in love." The way she says the last word - love - sends shivers up my spine. Somehow, the word sounds incredibly ominous in her mouth. "When it was declared that Her Majesty the Queen was pregnant, Sheso bless her," Evangeline adds, her voice as dripping with sarcasm as her clothes with water, "they were ecstatic. Simply over the moon. So they waited, and the kingdom held its breath. For nine, beautiful, revel-full months. And then I was born !" The joy in her voice is so fake it makes me wince. "A perfect demon. I guess the white hair and skin were bad enough, but then..." She chuckles. "I opened my Sheso-cursed eyes." She inhales and the entire crowd seems to take a breath with her. She really has them captivated. Wait, no - She has us captivated.

"My mom was quite religious. Too much, if anyone wants my opinion. She thought I really was a curse, a bane sent by demonic forces. At first, though, she tried to hide her fear. She named me Evangeline. Like an angel, so I could never turn out to be the demon I was set out to be. In my early years, I was treated as a princess, with the usual la-di-da, the dresses, the food, the endless row of servants. While people starved." For the first time since she started to speak, she hesitates. "People like you," she repeats, lower. Her words could be directed at any of us, but her eyes are fixed on Thet. The intensity of her stare is too great for him, and he turns away. She doesn't even flinch; I'm not sure she's satisfied by his reaction. In any case, she plows on: "But the Queen... She slowly started to become mad. Bonkers. Crazy." She draggs the syllables out to make us uncomfortable and I spot a couple of people in the crowd shifting on their feet. "She began to talk to me less and less. As time went by, our contact dwindled to nothing. I was six at the time, a little child with bun-sized cheeks. I didn't understand the intricacies of the situation, nor what was at stake." Her eyes suddenly look tired, and I get the impression she has forgotten our presence. "When I asked for her, they would tell me that she was busy. How could I understand ?" She sighs before waving at the air with her hand. "But no matter; back to the story. Eventually, she stopped speaking to the King as well. He took it worse than I did, to say the least. It was at that time when he decided to imprison me. He took away the dresses, the food, the interminable row of servants, and told the rest of the Court I had fallen ill. The King thought that if he showed her, if he proved to his Queen that he did hate me as much as any Sheso-lover should, she would accept him once more. He didn't need to have anything to do with me. Nothing mattered, not even me, as long as he got his wife back." She spits out those last few words, and they splatter on our foreheads, sizzling at contact with skin like acid. "Alas, the Queen died. She had stopped eating. Said prayer was all she needed. If Sheso had destined her to die, so be it." She laughs, but her face is unamused.

"But - and here comes the first hilarious moment of this awesome tale - instead of freeing me, that bastard King kept me locked up. For eight years." She passes her hand over her face, as if to wipe sweat off her forehead. But I can see past her bluff - it's only an excuse to stop her hand from shaking. "Barely any food, barely any water, barely any light. No one to talk to. The single privilege granted to me was reading. I could read three books a day, but ate seven meals per week. People asked about me at first, but soon enough, I fell into forgetness. Not a surprise, considering any one who asked one too many questions concerning the Princess had the honor to get their innards spilled out by the King's own assassins. He kept me there, from six till the sweet age of fourteen. Till one day, out of the blue, he decided to pay me a visit."

"The Kingdom was falling into pieces, at the same rate as his mind. The Court nobles were at each other's throats. The King became obsessed with jewels, and an already starving population was being increasingly taxed. Revolts, such as the one in Donuba, became common." She doesn't spare a glance in either Mun's or Pina's direction. "The Isfalts were turning on the King, and he was desperate to gain power, desperate to acquire control over his own army of courtiers."

"It took me years to get the entire picture. I was permitted to read anything they handed me, but actual and accurate information was rare and therefore precious. No one bothered to share these pieces of information about the current state of the outside world with me, the forgotten Princess. So at the time I was clueless. All I was was perplexed at this man's sudden visit. For those eight years, I had little contact in my life. I had myself, my books and the occasional food passed from my guard. I did have memories, but they were so different from my imprisoned life that I chose to lock them up and let them fade away, untouched." Her eyes glass over. Tears are beginning to accumulate in her eyes, and she lets them.

"By the time he came to see me, I had lived eight years without full exposure to sunlight. All I had was a slit in the wall, about three meters up. I was pretty pale, to say the least. And when he gazed on me, for the first time in eight years, all he saw was a tool for control." She stops, swallows and sighs. The story is getting harder and harder to tell. "He revived the myth of the Angel Princess. Said that she had been cured from her long illness, and was better, prettier, more open to Sheso than ever before. He first spread those lies and waited till they took hold of the Court. For a brief few weeks, the nobles stopped quarrelling. Now that the King didn't send assassins after those who spoke of her, the courtiers gladly gossiped about me, and all that was on anyone's tongue was the reappearance of the Princess. By doing so, the courtiers did the King a favor. He indulged their chatter because it served him. He wanted the rumors to spread: it was the first step."

"The second was easy and straightforward. Dressing me up in the finest, palest silk, he made me parade in front of the entire Court. It was very solemn, very conforming to etiquette. It was terrible." She blinks, and the tears escape her eyes, sliding down her cheekbones and across her face.

"But it worked. He had managed, relatively successfully, to create... desire in these men's hearts. And for six months, the Ruby King toyed with this desire, presenting me to then hide me away, talk about me at great lengths to then ban me from his discussions. The mystery, the intrigue of it all built up, till the King succeedingly spoke to them, the most prominent courtiers, in private one-on-one meetings. He explained in a very cold, rational manner, that a contract could be made between him and them. A simple contract: in exchange for their loyalty, the best out of them could earn-" Her voice breaks and she falters. We are - I am - hanging on her lips. Her hands are trembling, but the fire in her eyes burns steady.

"They could do whatever they wanted to me for a night."

Collective silence. What ? It's the only word on my mind. When I close my eyes, I can almost see the Isfalts perched on antique chairs, a glass of the finest Methronian wine balanced on their knee. The bored, nonchalant look on their faces and the wild hunger in their eyes. I can almost sense their desire, hanging thick in the room and perfusing the wine with a wicked taste. What ? How could he... I stop myself. How could he what, Dæor ? It's the Ruby King we're talking about here. You knew his true nature, as well as you knew that he must have done something to Evangeline for her to join. But not this.

"I would be sent off in the evening, accompanied by Dame Camelia - that witch - who would check up on me, give me any first aid if needed, and so on. She was as cold as ice, as freezing as winter. Her body must still be out in the forest, where you killed her. For that you have my gratitude. Otherwise, various Guards, over the years," her eyes skim the crowd, only briefly stopping to meet Liam's, "took me there by carriage. And later, in the middle of the night, I would escape and ride into the darkness, all for the myth to be preserved."

"At first there was the Duke of Gloug. He beat me up, then raped me." She pulls her sleeve up, and a translucent scar catches the moonlight. "Then there was the Count of Pol. He treated me like a Sheso-damn princess. He blushed when I spoke and asked before he touched me. He still did end up abusing me, though. Then the Baron of Ure." Her eyes cloud over for a moment. "What he did was unspeakable." She shifts her stance up on the rock and gestures out with her arm, the scar glinting. "There were others, countless others. For too many years. But I remember them all." She pauses, as if out of breath. Her eyes skim over the crowd before turning up and gazing towards the moon. Abruptly, she raises her hands and begins to tug at her wet shirt. What is she doing ? If she continues to pull with such violence, she'll rip her clothes. With a final yank, her shirt comes off.

The crowd collectively gasps. Not at her glistening white skin, nor the band of cloth tightly wrapped around her chest. No, we stare at her body, and it is covered in scars.

She begins to point at an elongated scar, not too deep, running beneath her ribcage. "This one was by the Isfalt of Ah-Knu." Some rebels, especially the ones at the village today, whisper to their neighbors. "This one was by the Duke of Holden." The scar pulsing under her finger is near her waist, small in length but at least five centimeters wide and seemingly very deep. "And this one," she traces down a line splitting her body in half which begins between her collarbones and continues till her trousers, "was by the Isfalt of Ure, speaking of him." A cold wave passes over me. What happened ? I want to ask her, but I can't. I simply can't.

"My father is called the Ruby King for three reasons, though you only knew two. The first is obvious - his love of jewels; the second is clear for all who have suffered by his hand: the ruby red of his name is the same color as the blood he likes to spill so much." She was counting off her fingers, fast, but now she stops, her left hand gripping her right middle finger. "The third one is me. My sweet scarlet-colored eyes." The former flash at the crowd angrily, and for a second I get afraid that she is going to give us the middle finger. But her hands drop limply at her side. "But it has... only been three years. The Court is still holding on to a single thread, or," she smiles humorlessly,"a single angel feather, shall I say. And that is precisely why I am so precious. The King has to get me back. He most likely is already willing to bargain." She is right. A red flag has been hanging inside the Castle's gates for almost a month now. We could send a messenger at any moment, but we have chosen not to. First, by stalling, we're making him more desperate. The price he's willing to pay will surely only go up with time. What Evangeline just shared confirms all of this. Second, she needs to complete her spy training. If we're sending her back to the dragon's lair, she needs to be as ready as she possibly can be. And third, there is no one I possibly want dead, and the messenger almost always gets shot. When I got this stupid intermediary idea for the ransom bargaining, I... I wasn't myself. There is no one here that I would want to send off to the chopping block. No one... Except maybe one person.

Evangeline's voice rises again, clear and grim. "I have told you this so you would understand. The Ruby King touches all of those in Methron, yes, but the closer you are to him, the more... personalized the punishment, let's say. So don't ever, ever call me the Crown again. Or you won't have ears to listen to my story with."

The sword falls and slides off the rock with a horrible screeching noise. Evangeline doesn't seem to care. Her face is tired, drawn, every crease exacerbated by the merciless moon. She has finished off her speech and her energy supply. The fire in her eyes, blazing so bright just moments ago, has now subsided. Only embers are left. She's full-on crying now, water flooding her face and drowning her cheeks. I, on the other hand, hesitate, still perched in my tree, until I see the outline of her shoulders. She is quaking.

I'm out of the branches and striding to the rock before I know it. The crowd parts and I glide through it. I feel like I'm floating on water.

Our eyes are locked and I am looking at her. She's staring at me. The blush of anger in her cheeks has paled away, and her mouth is turned down. It takes a moment, but she ends up breaking eye contact. She didn't want me to hear all of that.

The stone she's on has a smaller rock next to it; I climb on that one. I risk a glance at her, but she's avoiding my gaze. Turning towards the crowd, I spread my arms out and open my mouth. "What the fuck, guys ?" I shout. They coil back. They know they're in big, big trouble.

"What the hell were you thinking ?" At their muted silence, I grit my teeth and bark: "That wasn't a rhetorical question. Someone answer me. Now." My eyes fly over the crowd. No one dares step out, till a voice breaks the quiet. "²We were gonna give her what she... What she deserved." Mun is looking at me squarely in the eye but can't hide her shame. Deserved. "Step back in line and stop being such a smartass, Mun." Her eyebrows flit upwards in quick surprise. "All of you - I am going to talk with Keiti and Evangeline. We'll choose a fitting sentence for what you have done." My voice is hard, cold. Furious. "Now go ! Disperse before I knock someone out," I growl. They happily oblige, and within a matter of moments, I am alone with her.

I turn to Evangeline. She gazes back at me with a cool, apprehensive look in her eyes. I can see my scarlet silhouette reflected in her irises and can only imagine how I look, with my angry eyes and hard-set features. Trying to diffuse the tension, I pass my hand in my hair and deflect my gaze. "Sorry," I apologize hastily.

"Sorry for what ?"

"Being here. Having heard."

She flinches. There is a moment of quiet as her fists clench, but eventually she says to me: "I said all of those things for a reason, didn't I ? I wanted to be heard." The tension in her arms dissipates as her fists unfurl. "So don't apologize."

Her tone is unexpectedly unemotional. I can only clear my throat and change subjects: "We should get inside. It's cold out here."

"I don't want to."

"But you're drenched. Your clothes are soaked and - you're shivering, Evangeline."

She shoots me a glare. "Yes, but I don't want to bump into them inside. I can't face them."

What ? She just stood in front of a crowd of at least sixty people who all wanted to claw her throat out and don't blink. What is she talking about ? But I don't ask. Instead I just reply: "Alright. But you're taking my jacket." I slip my coat off my shoulders and hand it to her, turning away to give her a bit of privacy. "Oh..." She hesitates for a second, before I feel the fabric fall away from my fingers and into her hands."Thank you, Dæor." I can hear the brush of the cloth on her skin. "I suppose I was half-naked," she laughs nervously. Thank Sheso she can't see my face. "Ah, it's so warm. Thank you."

I tersely nod, and we stand there in semi-awkward silence. All we can hear is the wind stroking the leaves and our own breathing. It's quiet. It's... It's peaceful. "The night is beautiful," I voice. Next to me, I can feel her shift. "I agree. The moon couldn't be brighter." We lapse back into silence. Definitely awkward silence.

"I never actually congratulated you for what you did today."

"Why didn't you ?" I did notice her tonight, pecking at her piece of pie and shooting me glances. She had stayed closed off in a far corner, not talking to anyone but Aline. Which, in view of what just happened, is honestly understandable.

"I don't know." She sighs and cranes her neck up, observing the stars above. "Actually, that's a lie. I know perfectly well; I just don't want to admit it," she half-chuckles."It's just that... I wish I had been there with you." Oh.

"You are incredibly useful to us. You know that, right ?" She meekly nods but doesn't meet my eyes. "I understand. I wish that I could be on the battlefield though, doing something ostensibly helpful."

"You want to prove to them that you're on their side ?"

"What ?" Her head snaps to the side and she looks at me, wide-eyed. "Not at all. No, absolutely not. Definitely not... Maybe ?" She sighs and wipes a tear out her left eye. "Yes."

I let the silence float around for a few moments before gesturing back in the direction of the camp with my chin. "Let's go back."

"Okay."

We walk for a short while in silence before I decide to speak up: "You don't need to prove anything. After what you did tonight, they won't be going near you again. I'll make sure of it," I mutter.

She covers her face with her sleeve and looks away. Her posture, usually so straight, is hunched. Slowly, she begins to murmur: "I can't believe I told that to everyone. I can't believe you were there. Why weren't you at the cave with everyone ?" She spins and glares at me, but at my bemused expression, she backs down. "... Sorry."

"No, I understand. Yell all you would like. I can't even begin to imagine how hard that must have been."

"It wasn't that difficult to actually speak it out, in all honesty. The words have been dangling off my lips for weeks, ever since I had to kill that Guard." She's talking about that debate. "Speaking with them was easy. But now... I think it's the regrets that are the hardest."

Abruptly, I dig my heel into the dirt and spin. My body blocks her way and she stumbles back. I grab her shoulders and stare, deep, into her eyes. "Don't say that. Don't ever regret what you've done. You are one of the Sheso-damn bravest people I have ever met. I think..." I think you're amazing. "I think what you did was amazing."

She looks at the ground. "Thanks. You can let me go, now." I reel back. It hadn't struck me how close I was, especially considering she's practically naked under my jacket. I pass my hand over my eyes. "Ah, sorry."

"It's alright. Thank you, Dæor. I'm not used to getting compliments." Is that blush ?

"Well, don't get used to it. I'm not the type of guy who hands them out. And you maybe could have avoided taking your shirt off." She laughs for real this time. "It is cold. That might have been a bit rash and not too thought through." Her words are still floating in the air as we reach the open gate. Someone must have left it ajar for us. I step inside, gesturing back to tell her to follow. "It's warmer here." She pauses for a moment and lets a shadow of anxiousness pass over her face. But it disappears as quickly as it came, and she follows me throughout the passage.

Inside, everyone's gazes bounce off our backs. I can almost hear the thoughts swirling in their heads. "Come on," I whisper to Evangeline. "I'll accompany you to your room." She nods, once, before diverting her gaze back to the ground again. I let my own eyes float over her for a few more moments. My jacket is oversized on her and, though she has a broad frame, makes her appear small. Her head and back are bent, her hair still hanging down in long, messy wet strands around her face. She's clutching her hands tightly, I notice - to keep them from shaking, no doubt.

"Come on. Let's get out of here." For a second, she straightens up and looks at me. The pain in her eyes makes my heart sting. "You're safe with me," I murmur, my voice turned down so low I'm not sure she even heard me. She gives no sign that she did, but when she turns away, her back has straightened.

We hurry down the hallway, avoiding the others, till we're at her door. "Well, I guess this is it, huh," I state. "Sleep well." I have to make this short. If we stay together longer, I don't know what will happen. I spin on my heels and start to move down the hallway when, suddendly, slender fingers wrap themselves around my wrist. "Wait," she exclaims. "Here." She begins to take the jacket off, and my face literally begins to blaze red. "Nonono, don't worry, keep it on," I whisper hurriedly. "You can keep it and give it back to me tomorrow."

"Oh," she replies, surprised. "Okay. Thanks, Dæor. Good night to you too."

I smile and turn. Her door doesn't open, and I know she is watching me walking away. Sleep well, Evangeline. The Ruby King can't get you here.

And I'll make sure he never hurts you again.