Lydia

Lydia woke to the soft light of a candle. As she stirred from her dreams, she sensed the absence of something but she couldn't discern what. Blinking her eyes open, she peered around the dim room.

When her gaze landed on the empty chair beside the bed, the previous night rushed back to her: Zavier holding her hand, sitting with her as she fell asleep, talking about his family so she wouldn't be taken back into her nightmares.

Lydia pushed herself up and a shadow shifted near the candle. The Queen set down her book and rose.

"How are you feeling?" Gigi asked, perching on the edge of the bed.

Still hazy, Lydia only nodded. Realizing that wasn't an answer, she spoke.

"I'm all right."

She looked to the empty chair but didn't want to say anything. She remembered Zavier saying he wouldn't leave but she didn't want to feel disappointed that he eventually went to his own room.

"I had to force Zavier to get some rest," Gigi said as if reading Lydia's thoughts. "You have been asleep for more than a day. When I did not see my son yesterday afternoon I came in here. He was sleeping in the chair. He made me promise to stay here with you."

Lydia glanced about but with the curtains closed, it was impossible to tell what part of the day it was.

"Is it still afternoon?" Lydia asked.

Gigi smiled. "No, it's morning now. The healer said it was good for you to sleep as much as you needed." The smile faded as Gigi surveyed Lydia. "You dear girl, it grieves me that you have seen such harm in my city."

Lydia gripped her arms, not wanting to think of the real nightmare she lived through or the tiring time spent at sea. She was back in the palace, she was...being in the palace was enough for now.

"You must be hungry," Gigi said.

The statement brought Lydia back into her body and found all the needs it demanded from her.

"Yes," she said.

Gigi stood. "Then I will send for food. As well as Zavier, he wanted to know when you were awake. Do you need help getting up?"

"No, thank you."

With a last concerned look, Gigi left the room. Lydia slipped out of the covers and tugged on her silken robe. After visiting the washroom to relieve herself, she walked into the sitting room, claiming a seat at the table.

A window before her overlooked part of the palace grounds. Golden light tumbled over the palace and sent long shadows and haloes across the grounds. It was a peaceful sight, one that helped remind Lydia she wasn't a captive, she was safe.

The door to her sitting-room opened and Zavier hurried inside. He looked rumpled and hadn't shaven that morning. Something about his appearance told Lydia he'd faced the same type of rough sleep she had. He knelt before her, taking her in as if he needed his own reminder that she was safe.

In turn, Lydia studied him. A bruise marred the side of his face and she vaguely remembered striking him in the grips of a night terror. She reached up and gently touched the sore spot.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

Zavier laughing was not the response she expected.

"Princess, you escaped your captors and swam back to Loria, my well-being should not be the one in question."

Though that was true Lydia couldn't forget the image of him being attacked and falling to the ground.

Zavier captured her hand and pressed it between two of his. "You do not need to worry about me, Princess."

She locked eyes with him. Something about the way he said her title felt different, softer. But she didn't know how, he'd always addressed her by princess, why would it sound any different than before?

"How are you feeling?" Zavier asked.

"A little sore in places but that seems to be the worst of it."

Zavier relaxed, his smile relieved. "I am sorry I had to leave your side, my mother can be very commanding when she wants to be. And who am I to disobey the Queen?"

Lydia found a smile tugging at her lips.

The door opened once again and this time the Queen entered followed by two servants pushing a cart. The aroma of freshly baked bread, coffee, and broth wafted into the room, reviving Lydia's hunger. The Queen motioned to the servants and they quickly laid out dishes across the table.

"Zavier, will you be keeping Lydia company?" Gigi asked.

"If she will have it," Zavier said.

Lydia nodded in acceptance, only then thinking of how she must look. She'd made no attempt to tame her wild mess of curls or see what state her face was in. She imagined she bore the marks of the pillow on her cheek and her hair sat tangled on her head.

"The healer said you must start with broth for now," Gigi said.

The servants prepared a plate for Zavier and another set a bowl of broth before Lydia. Lydia worked her fingers through her hair, bringing some sort of semblance of control to it. Zavier watched her, the corner of his mouth lifted. Lydia almost made a comment about his own rumpled hair and unshaven countenance in return but remained quiet.

When the servants finished, they bowed and retreated to the edge of the room in case they were needed. The Queen departed with a comment she would check on Lydia with the healer later on.

Lydia and Zavier ate in silence. It was one that comforted Lydia, simply knowing he was there. After having seen her freaked out by a nightmare and holding her hand while she fell asleep, his presence was a solace.

Lydia stared out the window. Fed, rested, and protected, she had the strength to remember what had occurred after her capture. Specifically, the one detail that didn't make sense.

"Zavier," she said, drawing his attention. "At the docks, there was a man..." she didn't say her father though he'd looked so much like him. But she knew it couldn't be him, she'd seen him die. That still didn't mean her heart desperately hoped for the impossible.

"He was not your father, Princess," Zavier said, apologetically. Lydia nodded, though her heart bled at her reality. "He is your uncle Kristoff."

It surprised Lydia, but she realized it was the only thing that did make sense. Who else would look so much like her father that in her exhausted state she could mistake the two? Her uncle. A tiny flicker of hope Lydia didn't even want to acknowledge sparked in her. Her uncle.

"Where is he?" she asked.

"Here in the palace," Zavier said. Despite his neutral tone, Lydia sensed something beyond the statement. She didn't know what.

"Good, I want to speak with him."

As Lydia rose, Zavier stood as well. "I do not think that wise."

Lydia eyed him. "Why? He is my uncle. I might have not seen him in a year but that doesn't change who he is to me."

Zavier leaned in, dropping his voice so the servants wouldn't hear him. "I understand that, but are you certain you can trust him?"

"Why wouldn't I be able to trust my uncle?"

Zavier in closer still, his brow furrowed in worry. "Because he arrived in Loria all of a sudden and knew you and I were still alive."

"You forget he is still a Prince and servants at the palace would be loyal to him as they are to my family. We were not the only ones that escaped that night. I'm going to talk to him."

Zavier seemed reluctant and ran a hand through his hair.

"Of course, but I hope you understand that there will be guards standing nearby. I...We can not lose you. Not since we have already failed to protect you once, I can not bear to have it happen a second time."

Lydia placed her hand on Zavier's arm and he relaxed under her touch.

"I understand."

Lydia asked one of the servants to draw her a bath and walked into her bed-chamber to find something to wear.

When Lydia emerged presentable into the sitting room, she found Zavier and Nolan waiting there. Zavier had taken the time to clean up, looking once again like the prince he was.

As Lydia approached, she wasn't certain but she thought Zavier was taking in the deep blue gown that exposed her inked arm, fitted her torso, and flowed over her hips with something that wasn't critical. It was something else Lydia couldn't name. But he blinked, his focus on her face.

"You look well, Princess," Zavier said and Lydia understood the look. Not something new but something old: concerned appraisal.

"I believe my brother has already voiced concern about you talking with your uncle," Nolan said.

"Yes, and I have agreed to guards being stationed nearby, but I am talking to my uncle. I appreciate your concern, Your Highness, but this is something I must do."

Nolan didn't look pleased at all but he dipped his head in acquiescence. He guided them in silence to the second level and into a study. Already stationed in the study were Lorian guards as well as guards that wore different uniforms. Lydia barely took notice of this distinction, all she could see was the man standing on the balcony beyond the study doors. He turned as Lydia crossed the room.

He looked so much like his brother that Lydia felt tears welling in her eyes. They stood apart, regarding each other for a moment.

Then they rushed forward, embracing. Kristoff held Lydia tightly.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he murmured to her. "I should have been there. I should have been there."

Lydia squeezed her eyes shut, the tears spilling over. He felt familiar and he smelled like home. She wiped her cheeks and Kristoff watched her with sorrowful eyes. He looked gaunt, grief taking a toll on him.

"You dear girl," he said.

He hesitated like he wanted to say more but glanced at the guards all around them. When he angled towards the balcony, Lydia followed. It wouldn't give them complete privacy but it would give them more than a room full go prying eyes. They stood side by side at the railing.

"How are you feeling?" Kristoff asked.

"Better." Lydia traced her finger over the cool marble. "Zavier said you were told I was alive."

Kristoff nodded and swallowed hard. "Yes, they said only you survived and everyone else..." He turned his head away and a quiet, heavy with sadness, descended.

"I'm sorry I didn't visit sooner," Kristoff said, speaking to the railing. "After Alessia died, I never wanted to see the palace or Arlin again." He let out a weary breath. "But that also means I distanced myself from you."

Lydia touched his hand. Grief was nothing new to her uncle, he'd already lost his wife because the men who captured her thought she could be used to get to the King. Though her father had done what he could in the end it hadn't mattered. How much grief could one person bear? Losing her family nearly crushed Lydia. Her uncle had lost almost everyone except her.

Kristoff wrapped his fingers around Lydia's hand as if thinking the same thing. "I've heard you plan to fight to reclaim the kingdom."

"They would never want their people endangered and neither do I."

He nodded. When he lifted his head, he smiled a little at her.

"You have always reminded me, of me. Free, wild, spirited. I never wanted to be King or even a Prince."

Lydia felt an ache in her chest, one that came from all the wants she'd had growing up. The want to be someone other than a royal. The want to be free to sail away from the West Isles. The want to be with someone she loved. All those wants were still inside her but smothered under the weight of duty.

"You are like me and you will be Queen, at...seventeen?"

She nodded, trying to breathe through the reminder of the burden on her shoulders.

"Most don't start to rule until their twenty-fifth year." Kristoff faced Lydia and crossed his arms. His brows knitted together in thought. "Lydia... I've thought about it and if you so desire..." He paused as if his words were too heavy to push out of this throat. "If you need you need time to adjust... I could act as regent until you're twenty-fifth year or whenever you want. Once the kingdom is reclaimed, you wouldn't have to rule, in your stead, I would act as ruler."

Lydia couldn't breathe. It felt too good to be true. Since knowing what she'd have to do, what role she'd have to take on it felt daunting. But here was her uncle offering her the one thing she desperately wanted, time to adjust.

Regent, he would be regent. Lydia wouldn't have to try to be Queen right away. She wouldn't have the task of making sense of a world she'd barely glimpsed. She could have time to learn. This was the perfect gift.

"Truly?" she asked.

"Truly. I know that King Thayer and Queen Gigi would like to be part of the discussion over it. But." He straightened and bowed before her. "It would be my honor, My Queen."

Lydia hugged him. For the first time since she'd lost her family, she didn't feel so lost.

******

Two days later, Lydia walked into her room to find a beautifully wrapped package sitting on her bed. It was the first time since seeing her uncle that Lydia wasn't with him. Being with him felt like she'd found her family again. Telling him of how the family had been since he'd seen them hurt deeply but it also helped pull out the sting of their deaths.

Now, her uncle was on a ride with Nolan. What they would talk of, Lydia didn't have a clue. Any thought of their conversation topics were wiped away at seeing the gift. A maid appeared from Lydia's closet.

"His Highness left that for you," the maid said, a playful gleam in her eyes.

Lydia tugged one end of the bow and lifted the lid of the box. Sitting on top of a creamy shirt was a note.

"If you are feeling better then change and meet me at the training grounds. - Zavier."

Lydia lifted up the shirt, finding it was made of the lightest material. But what caught her eye was what lay beneath the shirt, a pair of trousers. She almost laughed as she removed them. Unlike the shirt, they were more sturdy but still light. Lydia looked up to find the maid still standing there as if she'd known what was in the box.

"Help me with this dress," Lydia said.

The maid eagerly assisted her.

As Lydia made her way through the palace to the soldiers' training grounds, servants paused and bowed to her, but none of them showed the slightest surprise at her attire.

With each step, Lydia felt a bit more like the girl she'd been, running barefoot through the palace. Though she wasn't barefoot, she didn't feel constricted anymore. Zavier had given this to her. A gift she hadn't imagined she could be given.

At the grounds, Lydia was directed from the sparring soldiers to a line of solitary posts with long rods jutting out from them. Lydia spotted Zavier fighting the post, his sword flashing in the mid-afternoon sun.

But his speed was not what made Lydia stop, it was his shirtless appearance. Sunlight glinted off his back, catching the sweat between his shoulder blades. Despite knowing exactly what they were to each other, Lydia blushed and turned away.

"Zavier," she said.

The thunks of the sword silenced. Zavier faced Lydia, breathing hard. Lydia's attention snagged on the long scar that ran across his ribs and she felt her face flushing even more as she inspected the dirt.

"Princess," Zavier said, racing over to another post and snatching his shirt off a rod. He quickly put it on, stuffing the ends into his trousers, trying to appear presentable.

"My apologies," he said. "I was not sure you would be coming today since it has been a while since I left the gift."

"You handle a sword well," she said, wanting to think of anything else besides Zavier half-dressed.

"My father made sure all his sons knew how to handle themselves in a fight," Zavier said, his voice betraying his own awkwardness at her seeing him in such a state. "I thought I was good enough but ever since you were..." He scuffed the ground, all awkwardness was gone it seemed, drowned in a terrible memory.

His clear distress of what he thought was his fault helped Lydia relax. She touched his arm.

"If I remember clearly, you took on three men for me. You fought to the best of your ability."

"Yes, and my ability was not enough. Wilder would never have let you be captured and I should do no less."

Lydia didn't understand why but his want to match up to Wilder warmed her. She pushed the thought away, confused about where it came from.

"Thank you for the trousers," she said.

Zavier swept his eyes over her outfit, a tiny smile peeking through.

"It is my pleasure," he said. "You said you missed them, but that is not the only reason I acquired them for you."

"Oh?"

Spinning away from her, Zavier walked over to where his sword lay. Instead of picking it up, he retrieved a second sword, this one narrower and shorter in length. He brought it back to Lydia and held it out.

"I hope to be enough next time when it comes to protecting you," he said. "But after seeing Captain Isla and Alwyn handle themselves, I know that sometimes the best protection is your own. I had this made for you."

Now that it was before her, Lydia could see the detail of it. The handle of the sword was tooled leather, the design similar to the woven band she had on her arm.

Zavier held it out further. Though he tried to convey ease, Lydia could see the hesitancy in his eyes. It seemed they both remembered quite clearly how she'd reacted to holding a sword last time.

Steeling herself, Lydia wrapped her hand around the hilt and lifted it from Zavier's hands.

It didn't matter that she was on the training grounds, or that Zavier was standing right in front of her. It didn't matter that the air smelled clean like sun-warmed grass and dirt.

None of it mattered.

As soon as Lydia held the sword and stared at the blade she was thrust back into the ballroom. One by one she watched as swords sliced through the bodies of her family. The air didn't smell clean, it smelled sour and metallic with blood. There were no voices of soldiers nearby, only the sickening sucking sound as a sword was removed from her mother's chest.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. But Lydia couldn't breathe. If she breathed, she'd fill her lungs with the stench of their death. It would invade her, choking her. They were all right there, lying lifelessly on the floor.

It didn't matter if she could talk about the good memories with her uncle because the bad ones still lived. She couldn't do this. She still clutched the sword and it was like the steel climbed up into her veins, stiffening her limbs.

"Princess?"

The voice came from a distance, from another world. A world where her family wasn't bleeding out in front of her. But she didn't know where the world was anymore.

"Princess."

She knew that voice...she knew it...

"Princess!" Two warm, slightly calloused hands cupped her face. "Look at me, Lydia. Only at me."

Lydia tore her gaze away from the gruesome images, from the steel of the blade up to Zavier's eyes.

"Keep looking at me, only me," Zavier said. "You can let go of the sword."

Slowly, Lydia pried her fingers open one after the other until the sword hit the ground by her side.

"Breathe," Zavier said. "Breathe."

Lydia did as he said, keeping her eyes locked with his. In and out she breathed with him, sensing the rise and fall of his chest and mirroring it. As the horror slowly receded from her mind, she found she saw more in his eyes than she ever had. Inside the brown hue was gold, strands of gold.

Lydia blinked and Zavier closed his eyes and dropped his head, breathing out.

"You had me worried," he said.

"I can't do this," Lydia whispered.

Instead of letting her go and agreeing, Zavier's expression turned fierce.

"Yes, you can," he said. Even where his voice was strong, his touch was gentle. "You are one the strongest people I know."

Lydia shook her head. How could he possibly say that after what he just saw?

"Look at me, Lydia," Zavier said. "You have a bravery I could only imagine possessing. When you were captured, you did not simply escape, you swam the ocean to get back to Loria. I can not think of how scared you were but you did it. You got away, you rescued yourself. If that isn't strength then what is?"

The passion in his voice brought tears to Lydia's eyes. Brave. Strong. Words she hadn't felt since that night but he spoke them about her.

"You lost your family but you have not broken under that grief. I am not saying that your sorrow has not taken a toll, but you have still managed to live. You have not become a shell of a person. What do you think that is? That's strength."

Lydia started crying but she didn't seem to care. Zavier swiped away the tears.

"Growing up with my brothers then meeting Alwyn and her family I used to think strength was only physical. But since meeting you I know that is not true. Strength it sometimes making it through each day when the world you know is gone."

She'd never known that words could seep into her heart and stitch close the tears inside.

"I know you are brave," Zavier said, softly. "Because above all, you have willingly agreed to marry me."

The laughter escaped before Lydia could even try to fight it. Zavier smiled at her, wiping away the last tears that slid down her cheeks.

"I know it will be hard, but we can do this together."

Lydia was terrified to hold the sword again, afraid she'd slip into the past, but with Zavier's words cocooning her, she managed to nod. Zavier bent down and picked up the sword.

"Stay focused on me, on my voice," he said.

He placed the sword in her hand but didn't let go, instead he encased her hand with both of his.

"Keep looking at me," he said. "Feel the weight of the sword, feel how it is simply a tool, nothing more."

Lydia gripped the hilt, feeling as it dragged down her hand but how Zavier's kept it from dragging her down.

"Instead of the pain it has caused," Zavier said, smoothly. "I want to you think of the lives that have been saved. Your life was saved because of Wilder and his sword. The lives of everyone in your Kingdom are saved because the men were not able to capture you. A sword is neither good nor evil, it is merely a tool to fight." He bushed his knuckles over her cheek. "And you can fight, Princess."

"I can fight," she repeated.

Zavier smiled and it bolstered Lydia.

"Are you ready for me to let go?" he asked.

A sliver of fear shuddered through Lydia but she ignored it. She'd been afraid, locked in that captain's cabin but she'd made it out. She'd been afraid in the palace, but she'd kept running. She might always be afraid of something, but she could beat it.

"I'm ready," she said.

Slowly, Zavier let go of her hand. Lydia kept her eyes on him, letting him be her anchor to right then, right there. She waited for the memories to try and overtake her, but they didn't. She managed a tentative smile.

"Good," Zavier said. "Now, can you raise it?"

Lydia did so, and after a second, looked at the sword. The weapon of death it had been to her moments before was no more. Instead, she saw what Zavier spoke of, a tool that could be used to fight. And she would fight. She met Zavier's eyes again and there was a light of admiration there.

"See," he said. "That is strength. Are you ready to learn?"

Lydia nodded. "I know some. Wilder trained me when we were younger because he was lonely and I was bored."

"Well then," Zavier said. "What Wilder started, I hope I can finish."

**********************************************************************

"My little baby is all grown up and saving China."

(You said it Mushu...expect the whole China part, but our baby is growing up! She's getting stronger. *sits down and cries from relief*)

*Looks tearfully at you* Please tell me I'm not alone in this? I need your thoughts, your tears, your cheers! *wails* Lydia is strong again! 👑⚔️🛡

Oh jeez! That only took three times longer than I had planned. Always so annoying when a character decides to do their own thing without consulting me about it.

On that note. *goes to the table and sits down, staring at the gang*

Lydia, Zavier, Wilder, Alwyn, I'm glad you can all make it. Can you please now promise me you're going to act as laid down by my mapping?

*They all exchange looks*

*I jab my finger at them* NO! Do not look at each other like that, you're supposed to all nod then say 'yes, we will because we love you as the author and respect you'.

*They all rise and walk off*

You all suck! I hope you have to walk a plank or eat really old cake or something like that. *Slumps* Man, I hate them sometimes.

Whatever, we don't need them, we can band together without them. What do we want to band together on...

Ice cream over cake?

Or

Cake over ice cream?

You know the really deep and meaningful issues in life.

Before you dash off and leave me where are your emotions over the ships?

I would tell you my emotions but you probably don't want to hear them...

Vote, comment, follow!