It was the first time Aurora took the train. Though it wasn't a brand new idea for her of travelling from one country to another, the magnificent speed that the gadget they were on gave her heart an illusion of flying with the fairies along the skyline. It was if you’d allow me, like sliding on the face of the earth. So, they started from the left eye and to the right eye, very quick which seemed to be without distance.

Perhaps it was all rocket fast outside, but inside, it was an endurance of a century, relaxingly slow and chill.

They were in the private section of the train, sit opposite each other with a long table between them. On it was two cups of hot cocoa and two books - Pride & Prejudice and The Art of Fugue.

The only sound you could hear was the sonata played by the flipping of pages and the sipping of chocolate. Occasionally, there would be a little added layer of sighs and awe. Bewilderment and complete soaking in the story were all painted on their faces.

Although it was supposed that they both wanted to chat, it was no embarrassment for them to silently admit that their desire to read was greater than that of having small talks.

The outside world could hardly be calmed by words on pages of paper, yet, they gave hope and comfort. What remained for the world beyond madness but literature that reminded people of goodness and righteousness. Perhaps that was the reason why those mad people finally chose to burn them all to worship darkness and in which went so much further to burn humans.

“How do you view over the story so far, Aurora?” Hubert put down his book for a moment, his eyes needed to rest from all the chewing and digesting of words.

She placed her book on the table and looked up, almost giggled, “Well, honestly, I believe mama would be so glad to have me reading it, so great a material for the manner and language refinements.”

It was not her intention to completely hide her family background, to be precise, she merely chose not to speak of her identity. It couldn’t be a lie, she told herself, for she simply didn’t speak about it. Of course, she didn’t know what an orphanage meant. Therefore, she had no intention to hide her family, whom she loved and missed so dearly, from Hubert.

On the other hand, based on one’s politeness, Hubert didn’t want to rip the curtain right at her face, by what hurtful sentences should he make? “Your parents were long dead” or “It’s weird for you to keep mentioning them”? How ugly they sounded! Not to mention, there should be no shame in talking about or even imagining wonderful family matters which one had never experienced before.

Yet, he simply played along, “Oh, why, was she nourished by refinements like curtesy and lady manners?”

“My, I believe you’d have no idea.” She laughed and stared at his book with bits of curiosity.

Touching the hardcover of the book and feeling the embroidered words, she asked, “Hubert, what is it that you are reading?”

“It’s about the beauty of Fugue.”

“What’s a Fugue?”

“Well,” he took a moment in his deep thought, “Fugue is a compositional technique.”

Meeting her eyes, he knew she didn’t perceive, so he continued, “You see, Fugue is a magic box. I put in a melody which in itself alone is quite dull. Then, I close the box and allow it to process with what I’ve put in. When I open the box, it creates another melody that harmonises with the original one I put in. Then, if I like it, I would close the box again for it to continue generating more harmonious melodies that are inspired by the original one.”

“What a lovely box,” she smiled and moved with passion, she said, “I had something like this before. If you’d not tease me for it -”

“No, not at all, please continue,” he interrupted.

“Thank you, in a land beyond this land, there is a beautiful cave. It is filled with a mysterious aroma which smells like roses and asters. Inside the cave, which you can expect nothing more than walls of rocks and some wildflowers, hid a secret only the fairies know. It sings.”

It sounded like a story to him though it was without the famous phrase of once upon a time.

“What? How peculiar.” He sounded neither ironic nor offensive.

“Yes, if you sing a melody and it likes it, it would harmonise your melody and continue to variate it!”

“What a beautiful story,” he beamed.

“It is not…..” she paused abruptly at her reply. Originally, she would like to reply as, “It is not a story but my childhood. I went to the cave so often with Nanny Flora and created beautiful music with the cave. So, it’s definitely not a story!”

However, she remembered the danger she would put herself into by simply sharing this small skit of her life. To show people from the Realistic Realm a gleam of the Fantastical Realm was a dangerous move. Again, she learnt it from the tale of Maleficent which was told by so many people, including nanny Flora and her mama.

The sudden end of her line brought him to better attention at her, he didn’t ask the reason for her finishing the reply in such a dramatic way nor did he ask her for its any implication, he merely marvelled, “Aurora, you will be a talented writer. Even though your past would be in contradict with your colourful imagination, your story would not be affected but remained as pure as your soul.”

“Why would you assume me to be a writer? I ask for an honest reply.” She gleamed childishly with a carefree question.

“Because you are a wonderful storyteller,” he smiled.

“I am a wonderful reader, indeed, but I have no confidence to be a good writer. I have no talent if I must say bluntly.” She didn’t forget to add a beam on her face to remind him that she was in no sadness or any negative feeling toward the going of their conversation.

“All talented authors start their journey as a wonderful reader, Aurora. There is no disabled writers but writers with undiscovered treasure.”

It was at sunset when everything in the field was covered with a layer of orangish gold, like the colour of molten lava. The warm sunlight cast gently at where they were sitting, like a mother’s touch. The light made his blond hair more vibrant and more lively. The atmosphere around them, very peaceful and beautiful, which could fool people from knowing what was really happening in the world.

In his eyes, she found this softness, which was a calm ocean, that was so different from what she saw from those who wore the same uniforms as his. 

May not be entirely the same uniform, but in her perspective, she saw the same, the same uniform that represented cruelty. So far, every violence she witnessed was from men wearing uniforms. The people who mistreated the travellers and Armond who pulled the trigger at the General.

The man before her, who she believed had already dreamt about for more than once, wasn’t a prince and neither did she believe he came from royalty. However, unlike what she was told before, she started to persuade herself that her marriage shouldn’t be built upon one’s title. He was kind to her and that would be enough.

Perhaps she might not notice, but something was changing, very subtle, in her heart, followed by his presence, his acts and his words. She didn’t know what he did or his other sides or how the future might judge for his position, she saw Hubert and only Hubert. She felt something was off about the surroundings and people. She knew he was hiding something from her. But as how he sheltered her in this strange land as how she wanted to repay him with her kindness. She wanted to know more about him.

“Please forgive me for it may sound offensive, but please tell me, why do you have to work for the uniformed people?” She suddenly broke the peaceful silence.

“The uniformed people?” He could guess but he didn’t like the new direction of their conversation.

“You love music, don’t you?”

“Yes, but how -”

“Thus, as how you have supposed of me so as how I have supposed of you. You can have a marvellous future if you do what you like, a musician! Pardon me, I don’t know what instrument you play but I can see you are not one of them. Why are you trying to be? They are awful people.” She was earnestly pleading while reminded herself to keep her volume down.

“Me and them?”

You could feel a shift of aura, like how the sun rested was how the merriment rested between them.

Hubert forced a smile on his face and smirked, “We are the same people.”

“No, you are not. They are evil. I can feel it. Not only did they abuse people, they also carry a wicked presence with them. You are different. You are kind and -”

“Aurora, if I can choose, I would be what you believe me to be. A violinist, this is the answer to your question. But I can’t choose. Not everyone has a fairytale life.”

“But this is not about a fairytale. It’s about right and wrong.”

“I must be one of them. So please don’t judge me for it. Everyone can judge me but you can’t. Because you are saved by me!”

As soon as those words leapt out, as soon as he regretted. It felt as if, at that moment, which ever instrument produced them didn't belong to him.

“I apologise for my uncivilised behaviour, Aurora, I didn’t intend for it.” He immediately added right after a drop of terrible silence.

“No, there is no need for it. It is entirely my mistake. I shouldn’t have placed you in such…..such difficult situation. I should be the one who apologises, Herr Hubert.”

She wished she didn’t say anything, yet, she couldn’t manage to control herself from doing what was supposed to be true and right. This gave her a greater urge to understand Hubert.

Everyone can judge me but you can’t. Because you are saved by me!

That was the only moment she caught a glimpse of his similar presence of other uninformed people. The ocean swelled up as storms within his eyes and his words sharpened as blades impaled her belief that he was different. But she also saw fear. It convinced her more that fear was the cause of storm, not pride nor anger, but fear.

If you wonder, they didn’t talk the rest of the train journey.

***

They stepped out from the station and changed into another transportation, by an official vehicle, they were escorted to the place no humans would want to be and no humans deserved to be. 

Not much had changed. The tensed atmosphere was carried from the train private compartment to within the sharp black vehicle. Nobody wanted to speak first, nobody wanted to risk.

There was only one main road for cars to travel and it was sided by two large fields of meadow, like wings wide spread. She wanted to fly. She wanted to escape. She wanted to hide.

The sky was grey, ashed by the grief. Along the way, there were wild lilies and dry grasses. It looked pretty but something was wrong. The smell of burning flesh lingered in the air. There was no stain but their blood screamed for the injustice. Their blood, drop by drop, flowing as the river of Hades. What they had done to them couldn’t be buried by history but they would be judged for it.

“Righteousness always prevails” is not an encouragement, it is the truth. Please be reminded, belief might be shaken but the truth would last forever. 

At this point, the silence was as much the same as the view along the road. But something caught her attention as they got closer to the destination. There was smoke, from far away, as if someone hid beneath the clouds and smoked secretly. It got darker and clearer, as for how her feeling altered from a light-hearted humour to a feeling that was gloom, it looked melancholic.

She couldn’t take her eyes off the smoke, wavered and lingered in the air, rising up to the cosmos, as a ceremonial sacrifice.

Hubert, who though didn’t speak, kept his attention at her every move and noticed her focus on the smoke. It was also a risk if her curiosity turned into a question which in turn with an expectation of him answering it and resulted in giving her reason to hate him.

“Aurora, thank you for returning into my life. I didn’t save you. You saved me.” A ring of voice after such long tranquillity always sounded as unexpected as ever.

“You are welcome,” she replied while remaining her focus outside the scenery. She sounded neither interested nor angry which gave him a surmise that she was still in mind of what he said earlier.

“I am very well aware of your health condition which prevents you from remembering any beautiful moments of our childhood. But for me, they are as real and close as yesterday. I thought I’d lose you forever because of what I did which should not ever be done. Before that night of your coming, I was tormented by guilt and shame. And look, you are here, right in front of me. You rescue me from my past. You give my life light.”

Aurora finally turned to him and realised he meant what he said. Although she didn't understand everything he said, the sincerity in his eyes would not betray him otherwise. She believed him, as always, even when most gave up their hope on humans and on themselves.

If you still believe, there’d always be hope and when there’s hope, there’d be light.