The ship was still moving somewhere, presumably back to the capital.
He didn't know how long they had been traveling, how much distance was left until they reached the capital. He didn't care. He had more immediate problems.
But he wasn't thinking about the danger to begin with.
Not really.
He was surrounded by soldiers. People from Albion. Army soldiers, members of the princess's royal guard, no doubt.
People of Albion. His people.
But, at the same time, his enemies. There was no denying it. There was no fooling.
Still... As he had said, he was not thinking about the danger at all.
All of them had knelt down. Bent until their heads touched the ground, following the princess's orders. But, of course, that was no more than a symbolic gesture. He was dealing with Albionese soldiers— mages.
Unlike the dogs of the Azure Empire, who could only rely on tools, mages couldn't be disarmed.
As easily as they had 'surrendered', given in to the princess's orders, they could get back up and pounce on him like jackals. The princess was kneeling in front of him.
Putting herself at his mercy, begging him to help her. But that was as symbolic a gesture as the surrender of her soldiers.
Desmond was aware of that.
But... Not only did he feel in no danger, not even the consideration of it crossed his mind. His world had been markedly reduced. He had hidden inside himself.
Is it really possible, if I say yes, if I take the hand she has extended to me, will I be able to... will we be able to...?
He trembled.
Desmond was trembling slightly, from head to toe. H was vaguely aware of that. He wasn't afraid. What he felt, what affected his whole body, the excitement.
He felt...
It was as if he had that future, no, bright present he had dreamed of in the palm of his hand.
As if he could already touch it.
We'll be happy.
Stop it, Desmond. Abigail's voice broke into his thoughts. What are you doing? I understand that you find the offer tempting. But words die in the wind. She just wants to use you. Use us.
Desmond lowered his head.
Abigail was probably right. I mean, that was the logical answer. He believed in kindness, he believed in human beings. But that everything he needed had come into his hands effortlessly was too good to believe.
That Charlotte was the answer. Too good. Too convenient.
There had to be a reason...
And there was. Charlotte had revealed it to him directly, with no attempt to hide her intentions.
Desmond frowned.
And it made sense. It made sense, didn't it?
The two of them... they were powerful. Something that had never been seen before.
Together, they could turn this war around. They would have to work for the princess. For the kingdom of Albion.
Getting involved in constant battles.
But the same awaited them if they turned down the offer and forced their way out of here. A life of running away. Of fighting for a little peace, a little happiness, a little peace. But the same awaited them if they refused the offer and left here by force. A life of running away. Of fighting for a little peace, a little happiness, a little normalcy.
They would be used, yes.
That didn't have to be a bad thing.
At least they would have a chance to rest, safe and undisturbed, between battles.
And just... enjoy life.
Everything that... that had been stolen from them. Both of them.
Yes, both of them.
Abigail... had been robbed of her life, too. Cursed with immortality, forced to run away. Again and again. Unable to... connect with anyone. Holding... nothing firmly in her hands. Nothing but echoes, if anything... poor echoes of the treasures many people were simply born with.
She must have wanted the same thing he did, too.
Yes.
She'd told him that... she would live one last life, that she was doing it for him. However, she surely also wanted to live like a normal person before she died.
To really live. And this... this was...
"Desmond. Listen to me," Abigail said. Directly, out loud, this time. Maybe she thought it would be easier to get through to him. "I understand you're tempted. But you're making a mistake. Look at me. Look at me. There's nothing for us here. Nothing but misery."
"I'm being honest," Charlotte replied, without turning around. "I swear it on my honor. I swear on my parents' grave. No one will harm you."
Words die in the wind, he thought, an echo of something Abigail had said not long ago.
And she was right, as usual.
She was right.
What mattered wasn't the words, but actions. That was what was significant. That was what made the difference.
But what if...? What if...?
Sometimes it was necessary... to take a leap of faith. That was all he was saying.
They had a lot to gain. Just one little leap, and they could have it all. And if it turned out to be a trap, a lie, then?
Then they would do what they had done in the beast capital, which they had left behind.
But there was nothing to be lost by trying.
"Desmond? What the hell is wrong with you?"
Desmond snapped back to the real world, being abruptly snapped out of his thoughts.
He shook his head.
"I think we should..."
"Oh no." Abigail sighed, clenched her fists. She was frustrated. No, very angry. He understood. He understood her anger. Her... reservations, but, at the same time... "Say no more. Desmond. We're getting out of here. For your own good, you'll leave this place. Even if I have to force you.
It was the first time she'd ever spoken to him that way.
So harsh.
But Desmond didn't feel hurt or sad. On the contrary. It showed how much she cared about him. How much she loved him.
It affected him. But positively.
Desmond stretched his arms out to his sides, not caring about the princess at his feet. Concentrating solely on Abigail.
"You're right."
"Good. If you understand, come." She extended her hand toward him.
"You're right. She's certainly looking to use us. She's been honest enough to say so directly. But is that a bad thing, as long as she gives us what we want?"
Abigail remained silent.
With her hand still outstretched, though. She didn't drop it. If she had dropped it… Though it might not mean anything, it would have torn him apart. It would have made him... overthink, as usual.
"You're tired, aren't you? So long on the run. So long fighting for... for everything. You must be tired. Anyone would be."
"Yes. Of course I am," Abigail admitted slowly, softly.
"She can give you peace. I can't give you back the life they stole from you, but.... "Desmond had tears in her eyes. "I want to make you happy."
Something. Something in Abigail's expression changed.
A small change, nothing more than a spark. It glowed and disappeared.
But...
"I know. My son, I know."
"We can use each other. One way or another, we're going to have to fight. So..."
"It's not just about that woman. I know she's telling the truth. That she intends to keep her promise. But she's just a little girl in a very, very big world. She can't promise us safety. Princess or not... She can't promise us anything. There are many people trying to control her, I'm sure. Take advantage of her. And people who would risk going directly against her, harming the princess, just to get the prize of immortality."
Desmond was getting discouraged.
He couldn't refute what she was saying. He couldn't deny that her words were true.
But it's just that I... We...
"That's been the problem all along. Otherwise, this... This war would have ended many years ago. But it hasn't. Because there is no greater prize. At least in their view. And they will stop at nothing. They will kill her, if necessary. They'll sink the kingdom into ruin... Anything. When you are immortal, you have time on your side. They will figure that sooner or later they will recover from that, as long as they manage to discover the secret. The key. The key that has been eluding so many people, for so many years."
Because they think they are special. Everyone thinks they are. But they end up like everyone else.
Was she warning him?
Suggesting that he was only willing to try because he thought he was special? That he wasn't really afraid of the consequences of getting it wrong?
Once again...
It wasn't quite true, perhaps, but he couldn't say she was wrong, at the same time.
He'd thought about what would happen if he was wrong.
If everything went wrong...
Just not really. He'd assumed that, even in the worst"case scenario, they'd manage. They would get out of that, out of anything. Because they were special. But that wasn't necessarily true. Anyone could fall, and he wanted so desperately to believe this, to do this, but he had nothing with which to disprove....
"Abigail is not wrong," Charlotte said.
Desmond recoiled, as if he had been punched, at that admission of defeat.
That admission of goodwill....
But, unfortunately, goodwill wasn't nearly enough. In most cases.
I wanted this to work, he thought. How I wanted this to work.
Charlotte took a deep breath.
"But isn't it worth the risk? What I'm offering you?"
"Enough," Abigail said. "Desmond, come here."
Desmond... Without looking away from Charlotte, who was still on her knees, he took a few steps forward.
Toward Abigail.
Towards... not the present he dreamed of.
Just the 'enough'. Because they were together. And until not too long ago, months ago, that 'enough' was more than he could have dreamed of even in his wildest dreams.
But now, when she'd shown him that there could be something better... that there could....
I want it all, he thought.
"I will protect you. I will do everything in my power."
Desmond stopped, suddenly. He turned back to the princess.
The princess had also turned around. To look back at him.
"I know you want this to work. So do I. And, as for your partner.... She's lived a long time. That gives her experience. That gives her wisdom. But it can also be a trap. She doesn't believe in me, she doesn't believe this can work, because life has taught her otherwise. So much time and accumulated experience."
"That's right," Abigail said, curtly. "You're basically agreeing with me. I sense a but."
"Indeed. But... Things don't have to be this way. Not always. Desmond, you can believe in me. And things can work out."
They can. They can.
She wasn't offering him guarantees. But that was what made her more trustworthy.
That she wasn't trying to sell him bullshit.
This was a leap of faith, yes.
For both of them. For all of them.
And the things that were truly worth it... were the ones that carried the most risk, right?
Like with...
With Amy and Christina. He'd taken the risk of opening himself up to them. To break down his barriers, and out of that had come many of the best things in his life.
And it had come to a bitter end, but he had no regrets.
It had been worth it.
And it need not have been an ending. No, for real this time.
Desmond looked down at Charlotte's hands, outstretched toward him. She was waiting.
He had a new beginning before his eyes.
All he had to do was reach out. Dare to take the leap of faith.
He took Charlotte's hands. Helped her to her feet.
"Desmond?" Abigail sounded surprised.
Sounded almost as if this was a betrayal. But he was only thinking of her.
He looked at her, hoping to convey these feelings. Hoping to get through to her. He opened his mouth to say something.
He didn't even know what.
But he didn't have to say anything.
Abigail beat him to it.
"It's okay."
"What?" You can't look a gift horse in the mouth, it's true. But it had been so sudden.
"All right, Desmond. We'll do it your way."
——
It was done.
The soldiers, of course, didn't like this at all. Many looked at them as if they were scorpions in the midst of the grass. But they were willing to respect the princess's decision.
At least for the time being. Or as long as she was standing in front of them. They were taken to a room all to themselves. Supposedly they were free to do as they pleased, but Desmond would bet there was at least one guard watching behind the door. Though that certainly wouldn't do much. Or nothing. Anyway. A degree of caution was only natural, after what had transpired. After all, it hadn't been long since everyone had seen him with his sword at the princess's throat.
But, in time...
In time, things would get better. At least that's what he thought. What he wanted to think. Maybe Abigail thought differently. They were both sitting on beds without pillows or sheets. One in front of the other, looking at each other without really doing so. In silence. Until now. Desmond decided to break the silence, finally. Someone had to do it. And it looked like, if it wasn't him, it wouldn't happen.
"Is it really okay?"
"What?" She answered his question with another question. As if she didn't really understand. But, of course, that wasn't true.
Abigail understood perfectly well.
Desmond could only be referring to one thing, in fact.
She was going to make him say it, huh?
"This. Are you really okay with Charlotte's offer?"
"You didn't exactly leave me a choice."
Desmond grimaced.
He couldn't protest. She wasn't being unfair, not at all.
It was the simple truth.
"It's true. I'm sorry. But... I'm... I'm just thinking of your happiness."
"I know. That's why I'm here. That's why I'm willing to... see how things unfold."
"But?"
"But I don't have high hopes. Just like I told you. So I'm preparing, at the same time, for if we have to fight."
"I understand," Desmond said slowly and after a while. "Of course you would. I'm not sure myself if I believe in Charlotte, or it's just what I want to believe."
"You know what I think on that matter."
Abigail got out of bed. She came to sit with him, next to him.
"But whatever happens, I want you to know that I don't blame you. Okay? I don't blame you at all."
"All right. But it doesn't matter. If things go wrong, I'll blame myself enough for the both of us."
He'd never get over it.
——
They finally arrived in Albion, the capital.
Charlotte had stopped by their cabin and told them the details. They would live in a house near the royal palace.
So that they could always be available, of course.
But she hadn't forced them to live in the palace. That was a point in her favor.
It showed that she was willing to compromise.
Although, that wasn't much of a compromise....
They were taken to see the house.
Desmond had no complaints. No preferences either, to be fair.
He didn't care what the house looked like.
To him, the house merely symbolized the true gift Charlotte had bestowed upon them. As normal a present as it could be, given their circumstances.
He thanked the princess for the house, of course.
Desmond was neither very polite nor very courteous, but he knew how to behave. More or less.
As for Abigail... He watched her reaction.
Something had changed in her expression, standing there in the garden, looking up at the house.
Only it wasn't a brief spark like when she'd caved to him.
It remained.
And it was an expression he'd never seen on her face before.
"What do you think, Miss Abigail?" Christina asked.
"It's... fine," Abigail answered, slowly and carefully.
But she liked it. She couldn't deny it or hide it.
Desmond was happy with that.
He just hoped that feeling would remain.
They had nothing but the clothes on their backs and their weapons.
Desmond had brought a few things along for the trip, but had lost them along the way.
The money, the food, the clothes.
Everything.
This was a new beginning, so it was fitting that they crossed the threshold of their new house, no, home, empty-handed. He supposed.
Princess Charlotte and her entourage were waiting outside.
Abigail and he toured the house in silence.
There was no familiarity, of course. Because it wasn't. The house was full of strange furniture and the traces of a history that had nothing to do with them.
But that would change in time.
Time could wash everything away with the force of the waves.
Leaving room for something new to grow. Something... better.
He leaned over, placing a hand on the table. He ran it across, stirring the dust. Watched it fly through the air. Tiny specks.
He had left his mark.
"I think we'll be fine here," Desmond said.
——
Desmond dreamed of the sea. Of the slow lapping of the waves.
A scene that should be peaceful. That should bring peace to the soul. However, he didn't feel calm at all.
He couldn't help but feel that there was 'something' sinister hidden beneath the surface of the waters.
Something.
Something he couldn't describe or name, but something.
Or was it already there? Approaching?
That he couldn't tell either.
All he knew was that sooner or later it would be upon him. Still, Desmond didn't move. He saw himself in the third person, and he didn't have much to see, because he was kind of numb.
Like... paralyzed... by a sweet poison.
The waves lapped the shore and receded, returning to the sea.
Desmond stood, staring at his own reflection. As if watching in case he noticed the appearance of that 'something' that would soon arrive.
His own reflection.
A hand came out of the waters, grabbing him by the wrist.
Desmond grimaced. He gritted his teeth and strained. Uselessly.
The hand, his own hand, pulled him downward.
Down into the dark depths of the sea.
——
Desmond's eyes snapped open.
Sweaty, shaken from the nightmare that had ended just in time to spare himself the worst. For sure.
Unlike many, he didn't believe that dreams had any meaning.
That they concealed, even if only a few, 'divine messages'.
Dreams... were nothing more than dreams.
But that one left him uneasy. He could admit that.
But it was nothing more than a nightmare. Now he had woken up. Dawn light was streaming in through the window. Sweet sunlight danced on Abigail's beautiful skin, on her long hair sprawled on the sheets.
She was still asleep, but not in her own bed, despite how that might sound.
Same room, different beds.
He... wouldn't have minded sharing the same bed, really. But he wasn't going to insist that they do either.
Considering some things in the past, maybe it would be best if they didn't.
Ever.
Desmond pulled the covers off himself, slowly climbed out of bed.
It was a nightmare that didn't bode well. And even if it did... This was his reality now.
He would fight with everything he had to keep it.
He needed to hold on to at least this much... Furthermore, he had made his choice, so he couldn't give up so easily. It would be like spitting in the face of the people he had left behind. The people who had died because of him, and all that he had sacrificed. But most of all, Abigail. Always Abigail. He didn't need anything else"the guilt, the nostalgia, all of it was unnecessary, poisonous even. He was a protector and a son, and he loved his mother.
Nothing more was needed.
Nothing more.
He approached Abigail's bed, watching her sleep. This is weird, he thought. But he still didn't move away.
Physically. But neither did his gaze, of course.
She's so beautiful. Everything about her is beautiful. Desmond swallowed. Suddenly there was a lump in his throat. I don't deserve to be happy. The thought was as clear and sharp as broken glass. He put a hand on the woman's head. He ran it through her hair, slowly, carefully. How soft, how... Slowly, gently. He didn't want to wake her.
Abigail opened her eyes.
Desmond stopped. But he didn't remove his hand from her hair.
"I'm sorry. Did I wake you?"
"No. I've been awake for a while," she answered quickly, perhaps too quickly. "What were you doing?"
"I..."
Abigail smiled. Although without much enthusiasm, it seemed.
"You don't have to be like that. It's all right. If you want to touch my hair, just touch my hair. You don't have to be embarrassed.... I guess that was counterproductive."
Desmond looked away, blushing from ear to ear.
"A little."
Movement. He heard the rustle of the sheets, of her clothes.
So, of course, he turned to look at her. Drawn like a snake to a snake charmer.
His heart was beating faster than normal.
Why?
"I'm serious, though. You don't have to worry. If you want something... tell me. You know I owe you everything."
You owe me, I mean, you'll owe me death.
Strange thing to thank someone for.
He didn't say that, though, because now he understood. And because one way or another it would be tremendously insensitive. Not to mention undeserved.
He had no right to speak like that. Or to complain.
This is more than I deserve.
Desmond put a hand to his face.
"Desmond?"
"Actually, it's the other way around. I owe you everything. You owe me? Nothing. I haven't done anything for you yet, except get you in trouble. And this may be nothing more than another problem. But..."
He looked into her eyes, again. His eyes stung. Tears.
"I feel like this is a good thing. I feel at peace."
"That's what matters."
At least, for the moment.
There were so many things floating in the air. Unspoken words. Words that perhaps should be spoken.
"Shall we go get breakfast?"
He wasn't hungry. Not one bit.
Desmond grinned from ear to ear.
"Fuck, yeah.
——
And they went down for breakfast.
The food they partook of had been given to them, of course, by the princess as well as the house itself.
Not much food. Just enough for a few days.
They would be given more regularly.
Or they would buy them, perhaps, themselves with a stipend. They still hadn't discussed those matters.
Anyway, he didn't give a shit about such things right now.
He only cared about the moment.
The present.
This was what he had wanted for so long that his heart ached.
This was all he had fought for....
No, just the beginning, just the beginning, but he could hardly imagine it was better than this. Just being with her.
A normal morning.
A normal conversation, about nothing in particular.
Unfortunately…
All good things had to come to an end.
Desmond didn't hear it.
But Abigail did.
"The door."
Someone was knocking at the door. Who could be doing it?
There was only one answer to that question.
They left what little breakfast remained on the table.
Desmond went to answer the door, with Abigail behind him, very close. He opened the door.
Charlotte wasn't there, but a stern-looking man in a black suit.
"Her Royal Highness summons you to the palace," the man said.
Princess Charlotte had kept her part of the bargain.
Now she wanted them to do the same.
She hadn't wasted a moment, eh?
Couldn't conquer the blue sky (4): END