What do you do when you lose something that you never expected to? Do you search for it frantically? Liam did. When you don't find it, do you try harder than before to do so? Liam did.

But you don't find it. What next?

After a lifetime of skirmishes, problems and pain, after all the heroics he had done, and felt himself capable of, Liam felt the closest to defeated he had ever been. All over Vedessa, Caratania, the DK, even Ethoris, there was no trace of Ophelia. Little did he know that several letters had been written to him and Alexandra, all opened on the borders of a nation named Theronsia. They were read and scrutinized, and as per Royal Orders, discarded.

Ronald had a hand, Nicholas had done it - by now it was clear that foreign powers were involved - but where? How? After having surveyed the security of the Palace, Liam had realized that it was woefully easy for a person cunning enough, to find loopholes. And upon that, had it been Ronald, which guard would possibly stop him?

His own son's words didn't satisfy him the way Adam's had. Was he partial towards Ophelia? Liam didn't care. All he knew was that if Nicholas had gone missing, he would have felt the same way.

But he couldn't focus. Defeat. The word irked him, defeat... how could he lose? But then perhaps, this was the arrogance Ariston had been warning him about. He couldn't be bothered to check it: all he did these days was rule and duel. That crown, for the first time, felt heavy on his head. Worry: worry of who would wear it next, three children, and none of them worthy. Was he any better than his father?

Duel.

It was the only thing that kept him sane. Even as his hair turned gray, finally, he dueled much fiercer than before. Something, a hidden wildness, had been unleashed. It was his way of channeling anger that he could not show otherwise. Alexandra didn't take others' anger really well. And Liam was angry, but he didn't have the energy to argue with Alexandra right now.

Adam Phillicks no longer partnered him. The boy was inexperienced and young, and after the ordeal, Liam had no intention to see him again. He dueled with Captains, their sword work much quicker and challenging. Even now, he allowed the tall man, taller than him, to weave in an around him. No, this wouldn't do. Liam needed much more challenge than this.

Somebody like Alexandra.

The thought had just entered his head that a voice struck him, commanding and furious, 'Stop this nonsense!'

Alexandra. But he wouldn't stop, Liam looked the Captain in the eye, 'Keep going.'

Footsteps, first slow, then hastened, approached Liam. He felt irritated, like he usually did, at the inability of people to understand him.

'You don't let yourself be understood, Liam. And then you do such crazy things!'

She was the one mind-reading now?

'Alexandra,' he said, 'would you mind not intruding upon the one thing that's keeping me together right now?'

She didn't reply, but the very next second, something flashed before Liam's eyes and there was a clatter of blades.

Just Moira.

And she had disarmed them both with comical ease. For probably the umpteenth time in his history, Liam wanted to set fire to everything around him. Instead, he smiled. It was a habit.

'Thank you, Captain. It's late now.' he was surprised there was no tremor in his voice as he dismissed the unperturbed man. Everybody knew Queen Alexandra was unpredictable.

When he was gone, she brought back his sword to Liam, 'It's heavy, isn't it?' She almost heaved it. Liam couldn't help melting a little at the sight, but only a little. Very little, an infinitesimal amount. The rest him was just frozen up with shock, he had seen bad things in his life, and never been friendly to his short-lived brother. But Liam would have never even thought of doing what Nicholas seemed to have done.

'You've just never warmed up to swords.' he replied, stiffly. Alexandra nodded, then she wrung her hands a little - this was new.

'Can you just be...' she began, 'the old Liam again?'

Liam felt cold water had been splashed upon his face. A distant memory rose in him, the dreaded training grounds, the early hours, the cold baths in freezing water. The way new students were woken up, pails of water, chill from the night, emptied upon their faces. The suffocation, his chest constricting. Then the gloomy corridors of his childhood, the suffocation without any water involved. He remembered the worst face he knew of, the last days of that face, the thrill he had felt: he would finally rule. He remembered a wild man, the wild man's unassuming wisdom, somehow the man knew everything about him.

He remembered women giggling, the crowd's appreciation, he remembered himself blushing. Despite that, swearing to guard his heart, not to let his father's history repeat. Crying as a child, biting back the tears till his eyes stung, later on. Feeling numb, hopelessly alone, trying to smile just so that nobody knew how bad he wanted to cry.

And then, it had become a habit. A personality. So now, there was no way that he could show it. Liam just knew one way of channeling all his disappointment, frustration, anger. Isolate, duel, get into a cocoon, duel, find a solution, duel, don't find a solution, duel. Come out like nothing happened.

He was such a mess, and such an idiot. He could pull himself out of mental agony that way, but retreating into a cocoon would not help in this situation, at all.

'Right,' he told Alexandra, 'can you accept that the old Liam was a stuck-up moron who thought that he could charm his way out of any situation?'

'Did you think that?' she looked genuinely confused, 'I never saw you doing it, though. The Liam I knew, was a bit of a moron, agreed. But he used to wrap his level head around problems quicker than anybody else. And he could outwit anybody, and he hated his father but he didn't have any particular opinion about his mother. He was a little stuck-up as well, but he was clever. He had a way with words. He was good at reading minds, bad at reading hearts and hands-down the worst at reading romantic poetry. He read statecraft and those heavy stuff well enough, though. And he was afraid of mice.'

'Alexandra...'

'He always had an idea.'

'I do-'

'Once upon a time, he had a strangely cute friendship with a spy named Mabel. I still feel jealous of her sometimes.'

 'Ok,' Liam told her, holding up a hand, if she continued talking of the past, he would just throw away the sword again and kiss her until nothing else existed. 'the new Liam has an idea too, but it's just too impossible to have occurred.'

'But I didn't praise you that much just for you to hold up a hand and say, "ok"!'

'Alexandra!' Liam was surprised that she could think of anything other than Ophelia right now. And the fact that he was thinking the exact same things himself. 'We're not twenty-five anymore! And we have a problem at hand.' when she didn't reply, a strange guilt wrapped around his chest.

"Ok," he repeated, sheathing his sword and cupping her face. "I'm sorry," the word came out softer than expected, and couldn't decide if Alexandra was holding back a laugh or tears. She was so pretty, her eyes so beautiful... he leant forward to kiss her. A slow, languid touch, gentler than he'd expected. But like all the other times, it didn't make him forget his surroundings. This felt like awakening, Alexandra felt like the only thing that mattered... it had always been that way.

"I've been acting immature I know, but this is the way I've always been. I just can't hide it anymore." he whispered, when they broke apart. It felt so intimate, so liberating to say it to someone. Especially because he knew she would not judge him.

"You don't have to always have it together, Liam." she replied. So simple, so easy. But not true, not true at all. Still, was it not worth a try? "Tell me your idea." she added.

Yes. The idea. Much more important than his existential crisis.

"Alexandra," he weaved a hand through his hair, crumpling them. "I feel it was a mistake to have let traders step into Idgard from the East that mindlessly. You know," he looked above her head, it always helped him concentrate on other things more, "their ways are rather secretive. And there is always a way to and from Idgard. But a person gone to the East," he shook his head once, "they never return." he knew his eyes must have had some old gleam in them. He felt better than in a lot of days that he had spent mulling over this theory, then considering it absurd. 

It wasn't, it sounded probable now. 

"The one place to send Ophelia to, so that she could never return... it's the East. I just realize how easy it is to have done that. Those ships on our ports, Theronsian and Asmare, you know?"

"They take gold, and goods, and return with goods. But wouldn't anybody notice? It takes three weeks for that voyage!"

"It would have been too late by the time they noticed. The waters are never too pleasant, nobody would have wanted to return, even if they could."

Alexandra pursed her lips, and Liam could see some disbelief. Obviously, he didn't trust himself either, but there was something they could do.

Communicate with the kings of the East, and seek help. But he was very sure that that wouldn't be easy, mainly because he had never been allied with them, or ever extended the hand of friendship, either. Nevertheless, he could try.

Something to do, that was all he wanted right now.