If the palace walls had voices, they would have screamed at the injustice of it all. They would have testified against the man, who, for the sake of immortality, had stolen from many. The man who wore the emerald ring was untouchable. For the memory of what he had done was hidden. And as long as it remained hidden, he could live forever, stealing that, which was never his. 

A time when memories could be captured, brought, and sold, the man was the only one whose mind was impenetrable. The only way one could ever see him in memories was if the memories were in liquid form. Furthermore, only two people could reveal it, the person who had captured it and the man himself. 

No one had ever dared to or succeeded in liquifying memories; no one except Mute: The queen's man.  

Queen Alishiay's man, 'Mute' as he was referred to by all except Alishiay, fell to his knees, his hands bloodied, his gait unsteady, yet his hazel tinted eyes held nothing but determination.

Her purple royal robes swept the floor as she approached her man. "Do you have it?" She enquired, kneeling next to the hazel-eyed man, tracing his thick, dark brows, wiping the blood that crept towards it. Tilting his head, she caught his gaze; a sad smile tugging at her lips, she enquired, "You have it, don't you?"

The man nodded, and Alishiay leaned away. Placing his hands on either side of his head, he closed his eyes. His lips moved silently, and gradually red and blue strings started weaving an intricate pattern mid-air. More colored threads joined the reds and blues as time ticked away.

The man finally opened his eyes when a completed image emerged: a man slaughtering a golden horse mercilessly, with his broad blade saber.

Pulling out an empty vial, Alishiay uncorked it; the image disintegrated into specks of colored dust and entered the vial; the woman sighed and sealed it again.

Tears left the light green orbs as the hazel-eyed man smiled and slumped against the woman's bosom. "Thank you." She whispered, stroking the man's straight golden mane.

Kissing his forehead, the woman held him close; gratitude took the form of rivulets of warm salty water and streamed down fair skin drenching the latter's face.

Mute shook his head and smiled. He was happy, content.

As the hazel tinted eyes feel shut, the body in the Alishiay's arms went placid before ultimately going limp. And just like that, 'Mute' was gone. He had paid the ultimate price: his body and soul.

 Alishiay rocked the man's body in her arms, and pulling out a pearl-encrusted knife from his side, left him there.

Mute had no regrets, though. He was satisfied with the payment he had received. Not only had she allowed him to stay by her side to protect and serve her, she had gone a step further and held him in her arms; she had smiled at him, cried, for him.

The next day, arriving at the brightly lit banquet hall, the young woman's eyes drifted over to the king before coming to rest over the empty spot where her man usually stood.

She bowed and took her place next to the king, smiling at her husband.

"Darling, where is Mute?" The king enquired, caressing her cheek. No one except Alishiay noticed the glint in his clear blue orbs. "He must be here somewhere." She replied offhandedly. No one, not even the king, noticed her bleeding heart. "Is everyone here?" She asked, taking in the crowded room and smiling at her subjects and allies; the king nodded.

"My king, if it's alright with you, I want to be the first to offer you your gift."

The king was surprised; he wondered, 'Does she not know that I killed Mute, that his body is hanging from the palace wall!? Did he mean so little to her?' Mute had entered the palace as a part of her dowry, after all.

Alishiay rose and pulled out a pouch and handed it to the king, who took it and pulled out a vial.

The king didn't know what liquid memory looked like, thus failed to recognize it. As he held the vial, a faint sweet, seductive fragrance engulfed him, "Ah! My favorite fragrance!" The king exclaimed, surprised; his queen nodded.

His heart itched to open the vial and take a whiff. After all, he had been looking all over for it for over a year now.

"Thank you, darling." He whispered in the queen's ear and held the vial up for all to see. "This is the rarest, most exquisite perfume in all the land. Once a man gets a whiff of it, he can never forget it." He stated, opening it.

Instantly, his face paled as a multitude of strings flew out. They recreated the image from the night before for all to see. The hall erupted in whispers and gasps as the guests walked closer to take a look.

"A true memory!"

"That is the golden peace deity!"

"He slaughtered it!"

"No wonder no child born in this kingdom lives beyond the age of twenty-five!"

The king shook his head and unsheathed his sword, "Guards protect me!" He yelled as the furious guests advanced towards him with naked swords.

No one came to save him. For, every single one of them was a victim. And before the king could react, a pearl-encrusted knife pierced his heart.

As he lay bleeding, gasping for breath, Alishiay crouched next to him. She pulled out the emerald ring from his finger and turned it between her fingers. "This is useless to you now, my king. My man made sure of it." She stated, bringing it down on the floor. The emerald broke, glowing like a dying star: bright and brief, freeing the lifespans trapped inside and lifting the curse that plagued the kingdom.

{Word Count 992}