The Discarded Puppet

I collapsed to my knees, breathing hard. I'd been running for hours, and the lights of my city were far behind me. Heavens and dreams, everything hurt. Every breath seared as my lungs ached in protest. I must've broken a rib when I jumped from the castle window, or at least bruised one.

"What kind of hell-dwelling poison did he lace his sword with?" I muttered, clutching the side where my dear cousin stabbed me. It hurt like the sting of Morgath's axe. The look on Elric's face had been brtual as I fought him. It was a mix between sadistic joy and someone who's been betrayed by their own soul.

There was a part of me that was satisfied with that look. A part of me smiled, remembering the wounds I left him with. The puppeteer was betrayed by none other than his favorite puppet. It must hurt, I thought, realizing that one was not a god.

"You've failed Odessa," My cousin had said, blood dripping from a mouth curved in laughter. "The poison is in your veins and these wounds won't kill me with my wonderful alchemists around."

"We'll see." I'd replied, backing towards the window that had proven to be my salvation. I could still hear the anger in his voice as he yelled the words that chilled my bones even now. Away from his guards, and his murderous alchemists. Hidden in the tall grass from his schemes to kill the innocent and gentle.

"I will find you Odessa Van Carthin. I will break you like I broke your brother. And I will make you wish you never saw daylight again."

But he was wrong. Poison would do nothing to me ,and my cousin was a fool if he thought I intended to kill him immediately. My breathing had slowed by now, and my ribs didn't hurt nearly as bad. There was just one problem that was still at the forefront of my mind. I was starving.

I looked hard at my surrounding for the first time since I tumbled through the palaces decaying gardens. I was on the brink of Markman's Forest, about two miles from the city. The wind whispered softly in my ears, making the grasses of the meadow sway to a silent song. If I had to guess, I wasn't more than a klick away from a farmer's path to the right or left of me.

I struggled to my feet. If I knew my cousin at all, he'd wait to send his bloodthirsty rats after me until he was tended to. He would want to give me a headstart and catch me when I was offguard. That meant I had maybe two days to find a reasonable hiding spot, whether in or out of the Kingdom.

As I walked along the borders of the forest, I listened. Wolves howled in the distance, but the sound was pained in my ears, fearful even. Drowned in the night, the world seemed to struggle in an invisible grasp. Maybe I was crazy, maybe Elric's poison caused delusions as it flowed through my veins. Or maybe Mother Earth was demanding retribution for the blood that I knew trickled between the cracks of this land. Vengeance for the sickness that spread from the foundations of the king's fortress.

Of course, it wasn't always like this. I sighed as my feet finally found the farmer's path that was sure to lead to the nearest village. I used to think the world was kinder. The earth used to sing around me. I used to long to fight for the glory of my kingdom, for the royal family. I used to strive to make my uncle proud.

But it had all been for nothing. I'd disgraced my family name by fighting on my cousin's side. Catering to his every whim. But blood runs thicker than water, and the same blood that was in his veins was in mine. The oracle had predicted this, I remembered her withered face. The green smoke that filled the room as she spoke her prophecies from glowing lips.

Her truths had been masked in riddles. Yet fate brought them to pass all the same. Right up to my own betrayal. But that had been the last line of her prophecy. I remebered the shock on my brother's face as he wondered which of us would ever think to betray our uncle. I remeber the fear in my heart as my young mind had the profound feeling that I was that Fated One.

Coindences are a funny thing, I thought as I spotted lights twinkling through the trees. The village had been closer than I thought. I wondered vaguely if the men from this afternoon had stopped here for supplies. I was surprised by how well the villagers seemed to be getting along. There were children playing in the streets, even at this late hour. I heard singing and laughter coming from somewhere nearby. Was there a holiday I didn't know about?

"Hello miss!" A young girl squealed as she ran up to me, "You look like you could use some apple cider. And a dance!" I froze as she grabbed me by the had and led me towards a tavern that couldn't look more inviting. This girl couldn't have been more than seven or eight. In the city, children her age cowered when they saw me, a servant of the King. Even worse, his general and assassin. His puppet, I thougt disgutedly. And yet... here was this smiling girl, showing me kindness when it was the last thing I deserved.

"Blythe, I have a customer for you!" The girl sang, "She needs warm food, and probably some new clothes, oh, and a bed and a warm fire, And cider! Can't forget the cider! Ooh, ooh, ooh, and a flower crown!" She turned to me, smiling bigger, if that was even possible. "Wait here, I'll be right back. Do you like daffodils?"

"Um," I was completety, utterly confused. What was going on?

"Don't mind her," A burly woman told me, strolling out of the swinging doors behind the counter, "Clemmie means well, but she's a bit overwhelming when you first meet her."

I nodded, but didn't dare reply. The woman looked up at me, a strange look on her face, it was a look I hadn't seen since my aunt murdered the king. Sympathy. She put her rag down and offered her hand.

"I'm Blythe, we don't really get much visitors from the Fortress here, so I'm assuming you got yourself in a bit of pinch. You're welcome to stay as long as you need." I shook her hand hesitantly. Her dark skin was worn with callousses, and I had the feeling she knew how to injure. My conditioned brain told me to tread lightly.

"Thank you, how'd you know I was from the city?" I asked. Blythe hopped over the counter with a grunt and sat in t he barstool next to mine.

"Your clothes," She gestured to my dark general's uniform, "Plus the lethal yet lovely daggers at your side. Only those who work in the castle dress like that. My question is, why are you running? The other townsfolk don't know near as much about those godforsaken towers as I do. They don't know how much that city takes from us, poverty is all they've ever known. You lived in luxury girl, so why would you want to leave?" I reeled back a little. Angry and surprised that this woman could know so much and so little.

"If you truly knew what went on in those towers, you'd know that whatever lies out here is a thousand times better than what goes on in that castle." I snapped, my voice low. "I didn't just leave, I escaped. You have no idea the horrors I've seen in that city." I could feel my hands shaking. How could I make her understand? Did she really think she knew just how sadistic my cousin could be.

"Please, understand. Yes I worked and lived and dined in those towers. But the king doesn't like to be trifled with, I barely escape. please." The plea came out in a strangled whisper. Blythe gaped for a moment. Her eyes fell to the wounds a my side. The bleeding had stopped but my dark clothes were stained a horrible color. Then she got up and disapeared behind the kitchen doors, leaving me exhausted and desperate at the bar.

All around me men laughed and drank pints and pints of beer and ale. It streamed down the sides of their mouth, pooling in various spots on the floor. The women talked merrily over biscuits and sausage and even grapes. My stomach panged as a wached them eat.

"Here, this'll fill you up and warm you to the bone." I whirled around. Blythe was back, holding a steaming cup of stew. I took it greedily, mumbling my thanks. "I don't know who you are girl, but anyone who stands up to the king and gets away with it is a friend of mine."

I sputtered a bit a soup and just stared at her. A friend? Those were hard to come by in my profession. I swallowed hard, feeling the contents of the stew worm their way down my constricted throat. The surprise wore off as the doorbell jingled and Clemmie came back, a crown of daffodills and daisies in her hands.

She placed it on my head with a smile. "There." She laughed, "What a pretty princess you make."

I found myself laughing at the thought. My exhaust wearing away if even just a litte. Maybe it was the smell of rosemarry and lamb that wafted off the stew. Or maybe it was the mirth that surrounded me. But I felt hope in that moment.

I wasn't a puppet anymore. I was the hand that cut my own strings. I was defiance. I was revolution. I swore to myself that this night wuldn't be my last in my kingdom. That I'd live to see this mirth again in the halls that once were my home, and would be again.

I took another bite of my stew and Clemmie sang an old farming song and the rest of the tavern joined in. I found myself sad, knowing I'd have to leave in the morning. There was still beauty in this world, and with my cousin on my heels, I'd do well to remember it.