Trigger warning: violence

- Evangeline -

I'm trying to remain focused. I am trying, but it's really, really hard.

"So you know how to wield the sword and the axe..."

Gail's voice fades in and out as I fiddle with a pebble I found in the corridor.

"Evangeline ?"

Its surface is smooth, and gray. Does the moon look like this up close ?

"Evangeline."

My head snaps up. "Yes ?" Gail sighs. "You need to pay attention." She glares at me. "What I'm saying is important."

"Right. Sorry." She sends me a last stare for good measure before continuing her monologue. "So, as I was saying - each rebel is required to know how to wield a certain number of weapons. You already have a basic mastery of some."

I nod. It's true; I have been training a lot the past days, trying to get my mind off what I said. It feels so strange to have everyone know a secret that was mine for so long. It's both liberating and... not.

"Everyone is also supposed to know a couple of basic combat techniques." She holds her index finger up. "Number one. How to snap someone's spine. That's what Thet is going to teach you today."

I smile at him as he comes into the cave. "Hiya, Evangeline," he greets me with ease. His demeanor is relaxed, his features joyful. We are on cordial terms, perhaps almost friendly. The past is behind us. I just hope he won't show me the move by using me as the victim.

"Alright, I'll let you two at it." Gail doesn't bother to wave as she strides out the room, and I'm not particularly surprised. She's a very busy girl and rarely comes to teach me things. Hm. Maybe I should pay more attention when she's teaching.

"Okay, we're going to be practicing on this." Something clatters to the floor and I bend over to peer at it. The dummy is a wooden torso and head, with a complex system of metal... somethings, holding it together. "Gail made this especially for this exercise. It makes a special noise when you snap hard enough. It helps us know how much strength is needed without having to kill someone every time we need to practice," he chuckles. I smile, a bit uneasy.

He kneels down till he's besides the body. "Alright, you gotta place your hands under their neck and at the head, like so." His left palm cups the dummy's chin, while his right fingers snake up till they're at the back of its head. "And then, you push and pull." Suddenly, he shoves his right hand forwards and jerks his left back. The dummy's head goes askew, and a loud snap resounds in the room. I startle. "Yeah, sorry, it's a bit loud," he explains, apologetic. "Okay, that's basically it ! Do you want to try ? The main difficulty is actually getting enough strength to do it, rather than the actual moves."

I slide off my chair and land on the floor. "Like this ?" I ask, receiving an encouraging nod in reply. In one swift move, I shove the dummy's chin up. The snap echoes in the entire room. "Wow, slow down," he laughs. "Don't break it, pal." I begin to laugh along. Is it really that easy to kill someone ?

Abruptly, my mind wanders and my laugh peeters off. My eyes drift back to the dummy between my hands. Could it be that easy ? A weird feeling spills over into my gut, a mix between rage, exhilaration and nausea. "I... I'm going to go to the training room," I announce as I spring up, my gaze still fixed on the wooden figure. "Sorry." Before I know it, I'm almost running down the hallway. I barely hear Thet's "Evangeline, wait !"

I skip sideways and bound into the training room. Thank Sheso it's deserted. At noon, almost everyone is in the mess hall. I should be alone for a while, as long as Thet doesn't decide to follow me.

I don't even think. My brain is disconnected from my body as I strap rough protections onto my knuckles and whip around to face the punching ball. With all my strength, I send a right hook into the leather. It spins off its chain, but I don't wait for it to do a full rotation - I directly follow up with a jab from my left leg. My knee connects with the bag, and it flies sideways, soundlessly. It bounces against a dagger stuck in the wall and hurdles towards me. I parry and let it swing around and around, following its maddened spins with my eyes. I've barely given anything, but I'm already out of breath. I'm tired - nightmares. My hand reaches out and steadies the bag. It slows down under my touch, before finally going still. My forehead bends over and grazes the pummeled leather. The Ruby King.

I'm going to be the one to murder him.

"Prin- Evangeline ?"

I spin around, my left fist raised and my face protected. As soon as I see who it is, my right hand rises up to join the first. "What are you doing here ?" I question, my tone hard.

General Liam, alarmed, looks at my aggressive demeanour with wide eyes and doesn't answer. I shift my stance before asking again louder: "Why aren't you in the mess hall with the others ?"

He clears his throats and mumbles: "I just wanted to train, Princess." I stare him down. He must be by twenty, twenty-five years my superior, but he seems nervous. Fidgety.

"Fine. But I'm using the punching bag." The tone in my voice signals the end of the discussion. I turn my back to him, but I can still hear him shuffle to a nearby weapon rack. The muscles in my jaw clench. He's so loud and distracting. I really needed some peace, since peace of mind is too much to ask for.

Just ignore him. I focus on my breathing and the now immobile bag. In and out. My leg shifts back into a fighting stance. Breathing is the most important part. As I inhale, I pull my arm back. In. My shoulder stretches up as my chest billows. Out.

My arm shoots out and hits the bag full blow. In. Out. In. Out. I continue to hit it with furious jabs, pouring my frustration into my fighting.

"You should make your hits more precise."

Mid-punch, I whirl around and bark: "Did I ask for your opinion ?"

He doesn't reply immediately. "No, but I am the trainer of this rebel camp," he finally answers, speaking slowly and weighing his words carefully.

"So are you telling me that you're in charge ?"

He blinks at me. "Well, I wouldn't exactly say that, but-"

"Just like you were in charge of the torture chambers under the Castle ?" I know I sound stupid, but my irritation is getting the best of me. I need him to leave. Now.

"Oh." He sighs and looks at the ground. "So this is what this is about."

In two strides, we are face to face. I don't say a word. Veins crawl across his eyeballs. I've always pictured his irises as dark as his soul, but they are more of clouded green. His pupil keeps growing and diminishing as it adjusts to the ever-flickering light. His eyes look back into mine, and I can see my own reflection - a tall, pale girl, with a very, very angry expression on her face.

"You're wrong. This about how you are an utter bastard, and I can't even begin to comprehend how the fuck you found yourself here." He doesn't hold my gaze. Turning away, he moves towards one of the weapons racks strewn across the room.

But I'm faster than him. In one vault, my fingers are able to close around a hilt, and I wrench the dagger out of the wall. Barely taking time to aim, I flick my wrist forwards and send the weapon hurling through the air. Thunk. It lodges itself, deep, in the carpet lining the wall.

The General doesn't even glance at it. "Princess-" His voice warns quietly.

"Don't call me Princess."

Within a matter of seconds, I'm within kicking distance. My leg spins up and sideways, ready to slam into his grim face. But, without even turning around, he ducks and avoids me. Trying to control my breath, I pull back and stare at him, noting his every move. Finally, with exaggerated slowness, he turns around and meets my eyes. "Are you done now ?"

That anger wells up within me. That cold, blind fury which hugs my neck and chokes my throat. That feeling of being pushed down, again and again, and finally having enough sheer anger to do something about it. With a growl, I rush at him, quick and close to the ground. He watches me, wary, until I'm close enough. And then, in a heartbeat, he bends over and places his two palms against my back. In a second, he's off the ground and using me to somersault off the floor and into the air. His legs sweep the air in a large arc until he lands with a dulled thump on the floor behind me. I stumble and whirl around, not bothering to hide the pure furor in my irises. He looks back at me, not cocky nor bloodthirsty, but still just as wary. As if he didn't want to hurt me.

I stare at him and he stares at me. We're waiting for the other to make a move. The tension in the air is flammable, just waiting for the slightest flinch to ignite. He looks at me, his expression prudent, before straightening up. His relaxing stance tells me what I already suspected: he thinks it's over. That I'm over my anger. I keep my face blank, but I am suddenly aware that behind my back is the rack. A weapon rack full of gleaming, deadly weapons.

Slowly, slowly, my fingers stretch and edge towards a lance at the very edge of the rack. He doesn't say a word. Maybe he doesn't see me ?

"Evangeline, I need to speak to you."

Too late. His eyes widen as my hand clutches the spear and throws it up. It swirls through the air with impressive grace till I reach out and snatch it, holding it out before me. "Take a weapon and fight." He doesn't move, only looking at me with wide eyes.

"No. I won't fight you. We need to clear the air between us," he finally asserts, his voice paced.

""Clean the air ?" I actually let myself laugh. "You have to be kidding yourself. Things will be straight between us once you're dead."

I can spot his shoulders tensing up as I let my words hang in the air. "I don't agree," he tentatively tries. "I've changed-"

"Did you know that I still hear some of the screams of those people at night, as I try to sleep ? How many were there, General ? Fifty ? One hundred ?" He doesn't reply, and my jaw involuntarily clenches.

"Fight, damnit !" I holler. He flinches and backs up till he's up against a second weapon rack. He pauses, for a second, and then silently grabs a staff. A staff. Out of all of the weapons he could have chosen, he took the single one without a blade. His leg slides back and he shifts into a position to fight. His two arms stretch out as he balances the long stick of heavy wood in his two palms. He holds my gaze, steadily, before beginning to twirl the staff so quickly it melts into an oaken blurr. I inhale sharply between my teeth. Maybe that staff isn't so benign after all.

He levels his gaze with mine, as if to ask: "Do you really want to do this ?"

"You bet the hell I do," I mutter, before darting forwards and thrusting my spear out. The blade grazes the ground; I'm aiming for his ankles. But as I rush closer, he breaks his still stance and jumps up, bringing his legs up and out of reach. I spin around, using the lance to balance me, only to be face to face with him.

I don't have time to think. My hand, of its own accord, lifts itself to block his staff. The impact rolls down my arms and into my shoulders, but I bear it with a grunt. Our two weapons strain against each other, their wood bending but not breaking. He presses on, knowing that of us two, he has the advantage of strength. I bare my teeth and bound to the side, letting his momentum push him forwards till he rams into the weapon rack behind him. It tumbles over, and its contents spill all over the floor. A bundle of knives roll over to me, and I stop their progression with my foot. I know what to do.

The General is righting himself, but almost falls back again as something whizzes past his ear to plunge into the carpet. He sends a bemused glance back at me, but I ignore him. Without bothering to bend down, I toss one of the knives into the air with my foot. In one smooth movement, I catch and toss it. He dodges it with greater ease and starts to make his way towards me. Shit. I fling another one in his direction. This time, he halts and raises his staff. With extreme precision, he taps the hilt of the knife as it rushes towards him, hard enough so that it spins off its course. And then he comes closer - but I can't give up my ground. My foot reaches for another weapon, blindly scampering around me, until I realize with a downwards glance that the floor around me is bare. An upwards glance, however, informs me that in around two seconds, I'll be in his reach. In one desperate attempt, I pull my right shoulder back, and toss the lance forwards like a javelin. It twists through the air with frightening speed, and I can feel my heartrate pick up. Could it...

As fast as a hummingbird, his staff is raised and the spear, my beautiful spear, lodges itself in the wood.

It's only now that he speaks up. "One hundred and twenty six." His words stun me into silence. "There were one hundred and twenty six prisoners, all tortured and executed." He lets the staff drop and meets my surprised gaze. "Can I explain myself now ?"

Without waiting for my reply, he goes on. "I did do terrible things. And nothing I can do will ever make up for the evil I have done. But maybe I can still do some good."

"I can't deny that I was the one responsible for the torture taking place on the castle site. The most important prisoners. The most excruciating methods." He goes quiet and picks up a dagger off the floor before twirling it between his fingers. "I wasn't born a heartless beast, you know. I just wanted to serve the Crown and my country, like my father and his father before him. After the Opening, Methron was in a dire state, and there was a need for soldiers. So I went and proudly served in the Guard. And it was exactly as my father had described to me, as a child. An easy way to rise up if you followed orders. A good, honorable place to be."

I interrupt him with a furious snort. "Honorable ? You and I have very different sets of morals."

"Please, let me finish," he asks, his gaze pleading. I don't nod, but I do close my mouth. I know I shouldn't trust him in any way, but he intrigues me. This reminds me of the stories Aline told me, all the reasons why each of us joined. Those stories which made me finally join myself.

"The Guard changed over the years," he continues, "but I hadn't realized. How could I ? I was in the middle of it all as it shifted around me. All I knew was that I was rising in the ranks, defending the Crown to which I was loyal." He stops and stares. "You do understand, don't you ? How loyalty does things to you ?" I swallow and don't reply. Two months ago, before I met any of these rebels, I would have boldly declared no. No loyalties but to myself. Nothing mattered but myself. Survival at all costs. But now... Would I be willing to give my life for this cause ? I suppose I would. And I suppose that I'm ashamed that it's taken me so long to understand it.

"After the Queen died, the orders I received grew darker, and I began to lose my hold on the reason why I was doing this in the first place: honor. It was long before I realized that what I was doing was far from moral. I... I thought I was just following orders." He sighs. "I don't remember all of them. Just the ones who screamed the loudest. But I did keep a tally. Don't know why. Maybe because..."

"Yes ?" My voice sounds strained and strange.

"Maybe because it made me proud, to serve my country so diligently." Saliva rushes to my throat and I repress a grimace of disgust. His palm passes over his face, as if to push his skin into his skull. At least he understands what he's just said.

"I lived my life as a King's puppet. Following his command every single minute of the day. But then... He asked me to drive you."

"I didn't understand why. Why was I, a General, becoming a chauffeur ? Maybe for the first time, I felt resentment against the Ruby King, my King which I had only showed absolute loyalty before. It's quite ironic, actually. By asking me to do this, he was putting all of his trust in me, but it was the first act which would push me far away from him."

"I was angry, but I couldn't take it out on him. He was up so high, untouchable on his crimson throne. But you weren't. I was ignorant of the Angel tales. You represented, in my eyes, no importance whatsoever. So I took out my anger on you. I couldn't actually hurt you physically, but I threatened and cursed."

"You were terrifying." The words escape my lips before I can regret them. "I was already afraid of you. I had to be - I had lived most of my life right next to the dungeons, where I could hear every single scream. I knew you were in charge, and every time our paths crossed as a child, I would scrunch myself up and try to melt into the wall. But then, when you began to drive me, the fear became personal and melded into terror. I was invisible no more. And you were - are - definitely capable of hurting me."

He shakes his head. "I won't hurt you. I won't ever even talk about hurting you, ever again."

But the gates are opened and the flood rushes out. "You were just making things worse ! The torture - my torture - didn't begin as I was pushed into their arms, it began the moment I stepped out of my bedroom and ended when I stepped back in, if it ever ended at all ! I never knew when you would hurt me, how you would strike. You were a cloud, hanging over my head. I could hear the thunder but never knew when the lightning would hit. I was so worn..." Tears are beginning to spill out of my eyes now, a hot, snot-infused mess running down my cheeks. "I was so tired. You made me that tired !" My voice sounds shrill in my own ears. "If you hadn't forced me to be alert, maybe I would have had the strength to fight back. Maybe I would have run away. Maybe I could have broken out. But no ! I couldn't ! Because you were there, making sure I didn't get any sleep or calm or peace of mind, let alone strength ! You broke me," my words come out twisted and choked. "You broke me, and I couldn't straighten up to fight." My mouth is dry. "So why ? Why - How are you here ?"

He doesn't reply immediately. I guess he can't. Using the back of my hand, I wipe some of the water off my face, well aware of my reddened and blotchy skin. Aware but not caring.

"It took me a while to understand what was going on. I think I was closing my eyes to what you were enduring, those long hours while I was waiting in the coach. But then... My mother was raped. By a Guard. My eyes," he swallows, "had to open. So they did, and so they saw."

"I realized what I was doing, by taking you there, by threatening you for no reason. You're right, I was torturing you, albeit in a different way than the other prisoners I had to take care of. The guilt was very progressive. It began to keep me awake at night, eyes wide. I couldn't seem to be able to close them."

"You did menace me less, before your disappearance."

He bobs his head. "Yeah. I was beginning to understand, to unravel. My resolve weakened. And the Ruby King... We were so close. We weren't friends - a King has no friends - but we were allies. Close allies. I knew how he ate his eggs for breakfast, I knew when he liked to sleep and how he found the Castle too cold. Us two, we're the two here who know him the best."

"No. I don't know him," I reply, my head shaking.

He doesn't lift an eyebrow at my comment but looks as if he wants to. Avoiding my comment, he goes on: "Cracks began to appear between me and him. I began to see his megalomania, his madness, his cruelty. Till one day I split apart. I was in an interrogation room, of all places." He makes a guttural sound. I think it was meant to be a chuckle, but it came out a croak. "I... I killed everyone inside. The red haze inside my mind spread into real life as I cut them all down. And then I ran."

"I had lost myself in more ways than one when I came back to semi-consciousness. I had no idea where or who I was. Was I Liam Ilma, an ordinary man whose family had served the Crown for so many years ? Or was I a monster ?"

"So I invented myself a new identity and became a baker in a village by the Northern coast. I stayed there a year, trying to find and piece the pieces that had once made me up. I became part of the village. No one knew who I was, though they knew General Liam had disappeared. Thank Sheso that Generals' faces aren't on coins."

"One day, I heard of the rebel camp. And I decided to give up everything I had built back at the village - peace of mind and heart - to come here. I had to stop running away and needed take a stand. I had to fight. And maybe I came fore redemption as well, like so many here." He looks at me squarely in the eye. "When you first arrived, I thought it was Sheso himself who brought you here. But I've been avoiding you, out of fear. I have to stop that, too." Suddenly, he slides on one knee, and hangs his head down. "Evangeline, I beg for your forgiveness. My life hangs upon your lips. Give me the word and I end my shameful existence upon my sword, shameful and without honor."

Upon my sword. "Stop acting like such a Guard," I condemn, looking down at him. "You're a rebel now. Act like one." He doesn't budge. Gingerly, I bend down and tug on his elbow. Surprised, he looks up and rises. I glance away, before clearing my throat. "Liam Ilma, I can't forgive you today. Maybe not ever. What you've done to me... I'm not certain it can be forgiven."

He nods once. "That's fair."

"But.." I cough again. The next few words are going to cost me, so I brace myself. "Maybe I can learn to trust you." I walk over and pick up a pair of swords. Tossing one to him, I grip the hilt of mine. "Teach me how to beat you, and I might just trust you." I stick out my chin.

"Because I'll know you won't be able to hurt me."