Not long ago there was a priestess.
She had long silver hair that ran past her linen clothes, tied back with a ribbon for movement and ease. Only those chosen by the gods were granted as priest or priestess and along with the title came great power.
But because of this many of them lost their lives from being outcasts among the people. While some accepted their inhuman nature, others not so much. For anyone with the power to burn down empires and flood civilizations were no miracle of the gods.
So the churches of the land sought after them to protect what was left of the gods' will, but ultimately failed. Their holy power was no match for the Kings and Queens that spited the threat that their power could mean they’d be overruled and so most surrendered with nothing left.
Except for one.
A small church in Cassanova with a group known throughout the land as the Unruly. There were known to be five members, the sixth being the priestess and no one was ever able to control them.
Still to this day the priestess with silver hair lives in peace behind the walls of this very church.
No more than a bedtime story for kids or a whisper in the dark, but I knew the story quite well. Not only because this church harbored my treasured side characters but also ten years ago, my father was the one to join with the Unruly and oppose the other Kingdoms. A treaty was made in the stead of war and the battles that were held brewed no more.
This was also the only time we fought with the Northern kingdom while maintaining our alliance. It was some dangerous business that threatened to collapse our society as the North was not a group to be provoked.
Lounging comfortably in a local restaurant, I stirred the bottom of my teacup with a spoon. I realized how little I recalled from that age.
When my father left for the war, I spent my time locked in my room in fear of my mother. I don’t recall a moment that she was ever more unstable or out of control. I remembered every second of thinking she could truly end my life.
Every doting smile, every passing glance made in public that caused my heart to ache into further realization my efforts to her would never be enough. She praised me, and smiled at me, but behind closed doors she was an entirely different person. The smiles faded, the lingering touches and glamour turned to dust, and all that was left was a festering wound that tore away at my heart.
A whisper broke through my overwhelming thoughts.
"Did you hear?" A young man said, sitting at a table nearby. "The prince is plotting to kill his brother! As if having the Crown wasn't already enough."
"Really?" A second one said, his ears perking up with disbelief. "You mean the quiet one we never see? Labor can be quite exhausting, he probably doesn’t want to show his face. The quiet ones are always the scariest." He added pointedly.
A third voice jumped into the conversation and I had to force myself to look away and not get involved. Soon my guests will arrive, I just need to wait until then.
"This doesn't add up to me.” The third voice had said. “Even if what you say is true, what does the prince gain from killing his own brother? I’ve heard they are really close." This man was clearly more reasonable.
"Competition of course. If there is no one left to fight then who can oppose him?" The first man proposed.
The second young man shook his head as if done with the topic. "There is no understanding of a mad man."
They huddled together sipping their wine as if coming to an agreement. The third man spoke up, but lowered his voice. "This does make sense my brothers. Let us hope someone will take his place. My bet is on the North. We all know Cassanova doesn’t stand a chance against them."
"To think he would go to such lengths to secure his position. I pray for this country the day someone that heartless will take the crown. Imagine what he could do to his own people?"
They all nodded in unison and it was at this point I stopped listening. Actually my legs moved on their own out the door with my pay left on the table. A cool breeze swept across my face and I could finally think again.
Didn’t they realize that my life was actually in danger? Their story was in reverse! How did everything become so twisted? I was so annoyed that my head began to throb, and I rubbed at my temple for some relief.
Two young ladies almost crossed my path. "Excuse me..." My hand retreated realizing they weren't looking my way.
"Did you hear about the prince?"
"Which one?"
"The crown prince of course!" The woman smiled in matter-of-fact way upon seeing the girl’s disbelief, her eyes swimming with arrogance. "I have a reliable source," she winked.
Okay I’m officially wondering whether I should’ve left my bed today. Is it too late to go back?
The further I walked the more people gossiped about the rumors and the more twisted they became. One after the other they were shoved in my face until I really couldn’t take it anymore. I’ve never once wished for my brother's death, even though his mother had forged him into a double edged sword for me to fall on.
No one knew, not even Aiden, how this truth kept me up at night. How my smiles were sometimes forced to hide the sadness that lurked in all the bantering and laughs I shared with Patrick. My memories tainted with the ideas his mother had planted, despite how I pointedly ignored them.
A silent whisper, "Maybe he should just kill himself first."
"No, no, if he murdered the brother-"
My lungs became tighter and harder to breathe. A feeling of doom surrounded me, and the pounding in my head grew louder and louder. Why did no one hear it? "Aiden," I whispered, feeling a surge of fear.
A boy close to my age with a head of blond hair walked closer and frowned. "I was worried you would run into trouble. Looks like my prediction was correct." He did not smile, nor frown any longer, but simply put his open book away and extended his right hand. "I'm Leon. I don’t believe we've had the pleasure."
Eyes widened, I was surprised to be pulled closer.
His earrings dazzled in the sunlight, turning a rich sapphire shade that matched his eyes. He smiled near my ear, and spoke in a low voice, "You will discover the right people always hear you."
My heart thumped wildly.
Leon smiled like he knew many secrets and changed the subject. "Let us go to my place. I'll treat you to some tea, and we can discuss your letter."
It took everything in my being to not burst into tears and quietly follow him. After all these years, he’s still exactly as I remembered. Even though most memories of my past life have faded, that night we died in a car crash, I still recalled the scene so vividly.
Every time I close my eyes I see his face lying in shards of glass, not moving yet perfect as ever. I remember wondering how I could help him, to fix what’s been broken, but that type of power was beyond my reach. I’m merely a human without the power of a god to heal or rewind the events that occurred. Even now that truth remains the same.
As I followed him through the streets of Cassanova, I wanted to tell him how wonderful our time was together back then. I thought he was the nicest person I ever met. Nothing can compare to his soft laughter or how he noticed all the little things that I did.
If I focus hard enough he would often appear in my dreams too. I think about how I cry every time I see him, hoping that he’s real and now I’m walking beside him again. He still treats me so nicely and I don’t understand why. I’ve never been deserving of such kindness, but none of that matters to him. Rather he looks at me as though I was perfect all along and every time he does, I think I become even more undone by his gentle smile.
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