Nothing.

She doesn't want to face it, so she sees nothing beyond the draperies of her bed.

Whenever Briar Rosette had a persistent problem stirring in her woebegone heart, she would paint. Colors had always been a perfect method of expression. If she's happy, then her palette would be bright like the glory of the sun and the billows of the sea that mirrors the sky. If she's angry, then her palette would be disastrous yet wonderful, wretched yet beckoning with livid brush strokes, unleashing monsters formed by ire.

And whenever she doesn't understand what she feels at all, she just paints at random, letting her wrist flick along the canvas without any concept art in her mind. Once the painting would reach its completion, she'd try to do an analysis of her freeform expression, try to comprehend what had been bugging her for days until she can independently compromise with her inner voice.

However, right now...

Painting can't even make the maiden get out of her thick blankets, let alone her fortification of feather-stuffed pillows. She didn't have the will to do any sort of action. She was afraid that should she do more, someone else's death follows.

No, not again. She must never allow it to happen again.

Why did I request for her to execute such a dangerous job? She wondered, regrets piling up like bricks that made her unable to lift her own weight.

With great power comes with great responsibility, but look at her now. Her bare feet wouldn't dare touch the cold floor for most hours. Her room had been engulfed by darkness. She was responsible for what will be written down on History books, but where was this so-called power within her frail, shivering body?

She left the door unlocked for Gertrude to come and go, serving her meal after meal in bed. Often, the young miss didn't eat, so there would be instances that the old woman leaves with a wasted tray of food, much to the princes’ observations.

“I am worried about you.” Gertrude said one day during dinner.

She respected the maiden's wishes, not going out-of-bounds with the given orders—which were to enter and exit quietly, either for mealtime or for escorting the maiden to her private wood-panelled bathroom along with dressing her up in simple silk.

So for the old woman to speak in spite of her orders obviously startled the young miss.

“Well, worry not. It will do you no good. Only gives you more wrinkles.” Rosette replied anyway, earning a gentle laugh from her personal attendant. She wanted to laugh along, though she hesitated and cancelled the attempt. How can she laugh at a time like this? After that bloodcurdling afternoon at the gallows?

“I missed that voice of yours, young miss. It is nice to hear it again.” The old woman smiled warmly, a contrasting feature within the wintry, dimlit bedroom. “Tell me, what must be done for you to feel better?”

There must be something.

There was something. But she doesn't know what. She doesn't want to know what. She was deadweight. People shouldn't care much for deadweight.

Finally, she answered. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” frowned the personal attendant.

“Nothing. I think I feel better with doing nothing. I feel better with nothing. I think I am better to feel nothing. Just...nothing.”

Rosette sprawled lazily on the soft mattress, her body slowly sinking as though she was being sucked into the bed. Gertrude watched her with a wearying gaze.

She had the ability to travel through time, yet she had no ability to stop it, to surrender herself with no pressure of the ticking clock, to take a break from all that occurred for these three months. What a downer.

A few minutes of silence passed.

The old woman sighed, tired not of age, but of the maiden's stubbornness. “I understand, young miss. I will come back by supper. Please take care.”

Gertrude closed the door.

The maiden closed her eyes.

She got what she asked for.

Nothing.

There was a knock.

Rosette alleged it to be a mere mistake of her hearing, or maybe an erratic rock that somehow made it to her chambers. But as soon as the sound snatched her attention and snapped her awake, it was followed by three more knocks that were kind of sure this time, sure that she was listening.

“I'm coming in.” A serious, low voice informed her.

It obviously wasn't her personal attendant.

Before she could reject him, Prince Vante Osburne slipped inside her room with a creak of the door, unrestrictive to his sympathetic exhale upon the sight that welcomed him as the door behind him clicked shut. He squinted at Rosette's figure cradling her knees, rocking back and forth on her bed within the furled draperies.

He walked through the dark, his footsteps emphasized due to the eerie silence.

“I did not permit you to enter.” She mumbled.

The prince came to a halt.

“Sorry,” was his chosen response, “yet I have to speak with you tonight. We know two days aren't enough for your lament. I know they will never be enough. But please pardon my discourtesy and hear me out. You have to do the third and final act. You have to ignite the sparks of battle. You have to start the Revolution...or it will all be too late.”

I don't want more dead bodies that are caused by my faults. She wished to say, but she clamped her mouth tight. I don't want to deal with this. I miss home.

Home.

What is home for her?

Picking up her reluctance, Prince Vante clenched his fists and did another attempt.

“You don't have to suffer alone. I told you, didn't I? I shall always accompany you to your journey, Rosette. I shall be there running with you until the very day you can run without me.”

Those lines. Oh, how heartwarming those lines were to the wilting rose.

Alas, they were also very painful.

She wasn't fond of farewells.

The prince's vision adjusted to his surroundings and at last he could identify Rosette's facial features: irises that still maintained their shine of green vibrance, cheeks that appeared to be thinner, and lips that had been consistently chewed out of guilt. His brows furrowed sadly.

He then settled a knee onto the mattress, slowly leaning towards her with a certain delicate motion so he wouldn't frighten her. Instead, his presence had her relax. It was him, the Wizard named Os, probably using one of his magic tricks. At least, that was what Rosette supposed.

But no, all he wore upon his approaching mien was sincerity. He was showing his naked self, his vulnerable self. He was the man who danced with her under the sun, a stargazer of her eyes. He was the man that took her to different places, awakened her thrill for adventure. Perhaps, from the bottom of his heart, he could awaken something else that resonated deep within her.

Prince Vante gently pushed back her blonde hair that covered her pretty face. The color was similar to his. He liked the fact that they had several characteristics in common. He liked it very much.

“He said I should be with you.” He whispered.

The maiden looked at him, unblinking. “Who?”

Finally. Finally, he had her talk.

He held a breath and let the name roll off from the tip of his tongue. “Tayden.”

Tayden?

His sweet eye-smiles automatically played in her memories.

At this, Rosette's lips slightly parted in surprise. After brief seconds, she shook her head with a tiny scoff. It was as if she was skeptical of such, yet was also secretly believing it to be true.

“And why would he tell you that?” she murmured faintly.

It took long for the prince to reply, even though he did.

“She was my friend, too.”

She was my friend, too.

Five words. Five simple words.

Who could've thought they hurt this bad?

Mona also danced with them under the sun. She ran with them throughout the markets and the alleys. She ushered them inside a tarot-reading tent. She invited them to her cottage. The three of them played with the children. The three of them had held hands together, almost like they were childhood friends from the beginning, almost like they could be inseparable.

But three was an odd number. One will have to end up letting go.

Tears, quiet and uncontrollable, fell.

“She was so kind, so brave, so noble...” Rosette said through hushed cries. “She always loved to dance, always loved to laugh at nothing and everything.”

Prince Vante nodded, his small, agreeing mhm was too weak and inaudible. He began to cry with her, wrapping his arms around the sniffling maiden.

“Her parents treated us like family. It was her dream to go to the masquerade ball...but...”

They embraced. They grieved. They rehashed every fragmented memory they had about her.

“She's my best friend in the 21st century. I told her with a smile...that we will be friends, even up to the next life.”

The prince caressed her cheek, sliding a gentle thumb across it to wipe a teardrop. “You really did become friends then. What about me? Will I still be a friend to the both of you in the next life?”

Realization struck her. Since three was an odd number, one will have to end up letting go. Is that why Taehyung was a stranger to them? Is that why she got to spend more years with Lisa? All because Vante's reincarnation had distanced himself from the two of them?

Rosette pulled him closer with a thankful sob. “Not yet. But once I return to my timeline, I will befriend you. I promise. In the next life, all of this pain will turn into the most beautiful moment in life.”

“The moment when all of us are together.” Prince Vante beamed.

“Yes, when all of us are together.”

A new, burning resolve grew inside her. In the next life, she will make things better. She will live her next life to the fullest. With everyone.

The prince smiled. “Determination looks good on you, miss harbinger.”

She smiled back. “I think it's time I go out of hiding. For starters, why don't we confront her parents first?”

He nodded, although more energized this time. “Let's go.”

Rosette fumbled for the edge of the bed. When she tried to walk, her legs wobbled like a newborn fawn. Her muscles that used to train vigorously had been inactive for too long. She clumsily tripped over, and the prince swiftly caught her by the waist.

“Um, I think we need to urge your body for exercise. For starters, why don't we stroll along the woods instead of riding horses to Mona's? That's far, far away. But we handled it before...as running fugitives. If you faint out of exhaustion, I'll do my best to carry you, fellow escapee.” Prince Vante suggested.

The maiden laughed, really laughed.

Because threats and a trip to the gallows were unable to make the captive retch a confession about the shredded letter, King Eldred Grand couldn't confirm his suspicions. If he did, then he would be traversing with his men towards the neighboring kingdom by now and massacre a nearby village to signal a bloodbath of war.

But he couldn't.

It would be a blow to his pride if he went there without evidence. He even signed a peace treaty.

Isabella's loyal seneschal irritated him just as much as the dead queen.

Although frustrating, he didn't make a move. But that doesn't mean there won't be any moves made. Since he was sneaky man, he counted on his assassin to make a move for him. Killing the harbinger would cease this doggerel. Killing the harbinger would regain his high dominance over the kingdom. Greed is power. Power is greedy.

A battle would seem to cure his boredom though.

Prince Tayden Pharrell watched him saunter towards his hidden chambers, the ruler of Grand grinning delightedly despite being torn between amusements. His fleeting royal cape cut through the air. And without further ado, the king disappeared into the archways lit by swaying torchlights.

There were voices of concerned soldiers that bounced past the brick walls.

“Your Majesty, a village at the outskirts ignited an uproar yesterday. The troop assigned there managed to seize victory in your honor. Few folk were scratched and wounded. None died.”

The fun had begun.

“What shall we do about it, my king?”

“Do not hesitate to kill those who go against the crown. It won't be long until other towns and villages imitate the action. The people have awakened.”

Then, their dialogue faded as they were getting farther and farther away from the eavesdropping prince, away from where he stalked in a safe corner. He didn't bother risking it and tail after them. He had two logical reasons: One, he would just foolishly get himself caught in a trap. Two, he had heard enough to apprehend what was occuring amongst their lands.

Ultimately, the enraged will gather and attack the man on the throne. And they will not be like a flock of aggressive sheep. They will be like a pack of hungry, vengeful wolves.

Prince Tayden swerved the opposite direction, avoiding his father as much as possible. In the back of his head, he could still remember the torturous cracks of whiplash on his squirting flesh.

Erase. Erase. Erase.

Forget. Forget. Forget.

“Tayden, there you are.”

He froze.

A hand clasped onto his shoulder.

“Don't look so pale. It's me.”

The prince glanced around the range of space. There was the unkempt king-sized bed, the desk with a single candlestick that provided little to no light, and the rest of the prosaic royal items lurking in the dark. Yes, this was his room without a doubt.

The only unnatural thing that stood out was the extra presence by his doorframe. Prince Tayden backed up a wall, sitting on a ledge of his wide windows. This situation was familiar, too familiar.

“The pale one here is you.” He muttered, crossing his arms protectively to guard his heart. This place contained so many memories of the past, of his broken childhood, which would then increase his sensitivity.

The extra presence remained unfazed in spite of stepping in another person's chambers. He even dared to smirk. “My skin is of natural color. Yours is in need of concern.”

“Oh, quit it. Just tell me why you're here and leave.” The prince with ashen hair glared. Moonbeams fell on his spine, casting a shadow to the floor that looked threateningly monstrous.

It's been years since the Prince Agustus Dane had loitered along this part of the palace. He used to barge in during every hour of every day, either chasing his brother around the carpet with miniature wooden swords on wee mornings or jumping on the springy mattress like wild monkeys when they were assumed to be asleep. He knew he can't bring those innocent playdates back, but it's nice to recall them by revisiting.

He decided to save the recollections for later.

“I instructed V to console her tonight, to be with her.” The ebony-haired sibling stated. His smirk vanished, changing into a reporting mouth.

Prince Tayden tried to appear uninterested. “I did not take you for a type who would boast about their kind acts. Is that the entirety of what you came here for?”

His brother's gaze was unreadable.

“I also instructed him to utter your name and not mine, so she'd think it was you who sent him and not me.”

There was a heavy silence. Prince Tayden gripped roughly onto his biceps.

More silence.

Surprisingly, the second-born waited with incomprehensible patience.

The fifth-born hardened his jaw. His guarded heart was banging from its cage, weeping louder and louder...

“You don't have to do this, Agustus.”

“Why not? I'm free to do whatever I want...unlike you.”

“You should leave.”

Prince Tayden shoved him away, shutting the door the instant his unbidden guest was outside. His lips were quivering in distress. His peculiar heart was thrashing from within. His mask was cracked open, and luckily he pushed his brother just in time before his vulnerability was exposed.

“She accepted you regardless of the flowers you told her. Why can't you do the same and accept her thorns?” the older sibling pounded on the other side of the mahogany door, pestilence landing upon each strike of his knuckles. He won't give up on this conversation without getting a response.

And Prince Tayden already had an answer to that after so many sleepless nights of contemplation. He must keep her away from him.

He didn't deserve her. He didn't deserve her love, her acceptance. He had been through an unbelievable amount of constant abuse that he can't even get a grip of his own feelings, can't even trust people for the sake of his selfish protection. There were hundreds of logical (and emotional) reasons stacked in his mind like a messy storage unit. But he can't even bring himself to admit their existence.

He was very messed up.

He was better off unloved.

For this to be done with, he chose the easiest answer.

“I can't explain it, Agustus.” He said. “It's difficult.”

Please understand and leave.

Prince Agustus was stubborn. He usually didn't put a lot of effort in a lot of his duties, yet this was different. This was for her. And maybe also for his younger brother. “All these events have been difficult for Rosette as well. But she's overcoming her fears. She's doing her best. Even after everything, she still loves—”

Excruciation was burning in Prince Tayden's ribcage, elevating to the lump in his throat, then to his venomous mouth. Cracks of whips penetrating his skin. Shine of the knife slicing his flesh. Voices of him as a boy imprisoned in the room of horror crying out for his mother. Blood of the people that begged for their lives dripping along his dagger. Rosette's hurt expression that haunted him on and on and on and...

“Well, I'm not her, am I?!” he yelled, kicking the door with brutal strength.

Tears trickled down his face.

For a soundless minute that felt like hours, his brother finally spoke.

“...You're pathetic, Tayden.”

“I know.”

Prince Agustus inaudibly wiped his own tears with his sleeves. He breathed in and breathed out. Confirming that his voice won't be shaky, he then added a reminder.

“Remember Mother's lullaby. Remember her words.”

Remember.

He went away, stifling his sobs through his walk past the pillars and the golden blackbird statues.

Prince Tayden sat on the ground, seeking support against the door behind him. He stared at the windows and the flying curtains that were almost translucent. The waxing crescent moon shone luminously in the sky.

And then, like a trick of the moonlight, he saw two figures on his bed. Instead of being scared however, he was at peace. Tucked under the blankets was a little boy, smiling as he dreamed. To the prince's shock, it was him at the age of six. Sitting at the foot of the bed was a beautiful woman, slightly swaying her upper body from side to side.

He could hear her voice, her melodious voice that began to sing for her precious son.

You are not alone.

I've been here the whole time singing you a song. Ooh~

I will carry you.

“M-Mother...” He crawled to her, desperately reaching out to touch her.

She doesn't see him. She leaned forward and affectionately kissed the little boy's forehead. Strangely, Prince Tayden could feel it on his forehead, too.

When she and the boy disappeared into the evening breeze, the prince slowly approached the windows by a peculiar penchant urging his body. He looked down and saw his ebony-haired brother walking right below.

Oblivious to the person eyeing him from above, Prince Agustus stopped in the middle of the lawn to gaze at the moon and the milky white clouds. With an introductory hum, he then murmured the first four lyrics.

“You are not alone.”

Rosette's POV

This had happened before.

“Be careful or you'll trip.” Prince Vante Osburne cautioned, smoothly taking my hand as he dragged me towards the location. This had happened before, and he said the same sentence from our first expedition together around...hmm, has it been three months already?

It was dark, so I narrowed my eyes at the soil to prevent tripping over small pebbles and twiggy branches at my boots. He was in front of me as usual, leading the way. Although, a flashlight would've been great. Must I invent that also? Just as how I invented the exquisite banana milk? Mona's parents insisted that we take a lantern at least, but he was confident that we didn't need it.

But the actual case was that it's still quite uncomfortable for us to take anything from their house, from her house.

We trudged through vines and bushy plants as a team, like how both should row to quicken the pace of a boat.

And I knew where we were going.

“Even though we explained to the Giocondos that it was basically our fault...their kindness was undying until the very end.” I started to say, waving off pestering bugs. My eyeballs were currently dryish due to all the tears I shed the moment I entered their threshold. “She must've gotten that trait from both of her parents.”

“Truly.” His reply meant that he was okay with having a chat. I noticed him hesitate earlier. His broad shoulders grazed our surroundings. “It's strange to not hear her witchy cackles. The cottage felt lonely.”

Mrs. Sephine Giocondo told us about their town (which I now know is called Louvre) beginning to rebel after they lost her. Some of them gained injuries, but they also gained courage to keep fighting. Leaders and mayors had started holding secret meetings, marking sections of a map that sketched out their kingdom from southern coast to northern borders. Amazing development of character, yes, but the problem was that they were said to be having a train of meaningless arguments. They needed a superior voice to guide them, a harbinger to unite them.

My heart was thumping fast, and it wasn't because my body was being overused.

Historical events were unraveling as we speak.

“...I miss her.” I inhaled deeply to relax. I got a whiff of fresh grass and wet earth. Afternoon showers had been frequent recently. Majority of the flowers had bloomed.

He hoisted me up a higher level of ground and we trekked forward. The path was steeper now. We were close. “I miss her, too.”

We ran out of words to continue.

Sensing the depressing mood, I hurriedly changed the topic. “It's good to be back here in the wilderness.”

He smiled. Perhaps he perceived my intentions. “It's good to be back here with you, fellow escapee.”

That darn handsome face. I didn't look at him any further. I was fully aware of my cheeks flushed in pink.

At the top of hill, the marvelous view welcomed me once more. There behold the scattered trees, the majestic torches from the palace and the lamps across the nearby village glimmering akin to firefly lights, plus the faraway flags with rivalling colors. It was red versus blue and black versus white.

Mona met the Lady, didn't she? I wonder what she looks like. Rumors say she's austere. If Mona were here, we would've taken turns of storytelling. She would've babbled about Duva and I would've gushed about my experience with the masquerade...ball...and...

And...

I bit on my bottom lip, a montage of her smile tumbling over my thoughts. I glimpsed at Prince Vante who stood alongside me. He was zoning out, evidently wandering around his own memory lane. I knew it was his mother etched in his mind. She was the one who brought him to this location. Her son yearned to see her home, so she showed him this. And then he showed this to me. It's magic, they said. Like mother, like son.

“Now I know how it feels to lose someone you love.” I said, not realizing that I blurted that out loud until he replied.

“During these sorts of times, the heart will be quite a heavy burden.” He advised, looking straight ahead. His tone was serene and empathetic, ripped directly from his honesty. His hand ruffled my loose hair. I found it gentle; a sign of comfort.

I dipped my head in acknowledgement to that particular sensation. “It's like a rock...with a weight enough to pin me down once I submit myself to sand, silt, and clay.”

He laughed at my odd specification. “Then shall we put it to the test?”

I smiled. “Sure. And while we're at it, let us be stargazers tonight.”

I don't know how many hours had passed. We were just there on the grass, having loam to our heads instead of pillows, having stones and wild flowers at our matching boots, having our weapons laid out on the side at arm's length. Night and nature. Hushed and bizarre sounds. It was all so tranquil, so therapeutic.

And we had the stars.

“I have yet to return your coat by the way.” I uttered in soft volume, careful not to be a disrupter of our environment that was already at rest.

“You can keep it.” The young man next to me smiled, tilting his head at me to meet my gaze. I was taken aback by the simple gesture. “Good thing it's not horribly cold tonight, huh.”

Suddenly, multiple scenarios of happy moments went through me all at once. Flowerbeds against me. My dress of white laces. Petals on my blonde strands. Tayden.

The feeling of my surroundings were awfully familiar and similar and nostalgic. Mix them together and they became one huge impact of heartache.

After Prince Vante told me about his twin brother instructing him to accompany me, the idea of the latter still caring for my well-being had stuck with me ever since.

I turned away.

I could visualize his confusion in my mind.

“Did I make you remember something bad?” A question came out from his mouth. Its capacity was weak, close to a whisper of deep-rooted worries.

I couldn't give him a proper answer. “Sorry. I should fix the intensity of my emotions. It's a hindrance to my behavior.”

There was a round of quiet.

Then, another thought-provoking question was set free to the night air.

“Rosette, what do you think of me?”

I blinked in befuddlement, letting his inquiry sink in. Gradually, I redid my original position to face him.

“Important. Special. One of a kind.” These adjectives pop out of my mouth like cannonballs as I frowned in complete staidness. This made him chuckle.

“You are not stuttering.”

“Why would I? There's no motive for me to lie.”

He placed the back of his hand onto his forehead, hovering over half-closed eyes. His lashes were long and impossibly containing grace. “...Your answers are befitting definitions of a different guy.”

Shock got caught in my throat.

“Van—” I attempted to protest.

“I know somebody is dawdling into your heart.” He interjected, sitting up while studying my reactions. “I was a witness to how your complicated love story began.”

The ability of speech was immediately stolen from me. I clutched tight onto the svelte black ribbon embellished at my chest, refraining from tearing it off.

He knows about the muddled state of my feelings. But no, I don't want him to think that he wasn't deserving of my praise, that my answers weren't meant for him. Vante... If only he knew the extent of this small beating heart's core that I have yet to fathom...

I copied his posture to level his gaze. He flinched at my hurried action.

“Regarding him, I have a different heap of definitions. But...” I gripped onto the short grass beneath my skirt, pulse rushing, cheeks flushing. “Important. Special. One of a kind. That's you, Vante! You!”

His expression contorted from astonishment to a bashful retreat. He scrunched his brows like he was holding back a ton of sentiments from within. He lifted his knees and put his arms on top, only so he could bury his nose into them to hide his blushing face.

“Don't say anything more... I might burst...”

I shook my head stubbornly, tears threatening to fall. He is very dear to me. How could he think of himself this way?!

“In the 21st century, I pasted decorative stars that glow in the dark on my bedroom ceiling. I always used to wonder what made me love them so much, and after stumbling in the 18th century, I finally found the reason.” I glared at him, furiously removing the damn annoying waterworks with my sleeves. “You. This scenery. That night when you first took me here. Vante, you are the reason why I love stars.”

His eyes widened, almost glassy under the rays of the moon.

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“I'm the reason why you find the stars worthy to be gazed upon?”

“Yes.”

We fell into quiet.

And at last, he smiled. It was at its most remarkable and sincere form. I couldn't help but smile as well.

He cocked his head sideward, few blush spots remaining on his darn handsome face.

“Alright. I am content with that.”

I fluttered my eyelids at his concluding statement, perplexed. Before I could ask him about it however, a cry blasted towards my eardrums, and it didn't stop until a flashing figure of a person pounced onto me. I swear I saw afterimages.

“ROSETTE!!!”

I quickly twisted my torso to the trees, yet I was too late. Prince Jacque Darryl proceeded with a big bunny hop and clung onto me from behind, wrapping his longing arms around me.

“J-Jacque?!” my jaw dropped in bafflement. I looked at him and then at Prince Vante, who appeared to be puzzlingly calm about this, and then at him again. “How did you—”

“Vante told us about this place while you have been quiescent in your chambers.” Another voice that distinctively did not belong to the youngest prince joined in.

I stood and dusted off the dirt and the fallen leaves that got on my clothes. Prince Jacque kept clinging onto me as though he was a kid reunited with his guardian. When I looked up, I came in contact with the pleased regard of none other than the Heir to the Throne. Somehow, there was a slight change of the aura he exudes. The cogitation of bowing tinkered at my system after he strode forward. I was near doing it when he approached me and I remembered myself, subsequently greeting him as I always did.

“Heya, Eugene.” I grinned sheepishly.

“Heya, Rosette.” He replied. Dark circles were apparent on his features, though he managed to replicate the same grin. “Everyone is here. We desire to alleviate your frame of mind. You can still make it at twilight.”

The rest of the princes showed up, stepping out from the abundant bushes and the wall of vines. Prince Tayden was with them. I had to fight the impulse to stare. Once I peel my eyes off of him, I apprehended the knowing look on Prince Nathaniel James, smirking as though telling me that he saw. I faked a cough to cover my embarrassment. Prince Jacob Erhart was better than him, only waving a cheerful hello.

Then the Heir's last sentence got my attention. “Wait, what will I be doing exactly?”

“The Third Act, which is also the final act of the Assemblage. There is no perfect timing other than now. You must do it at Louvre downhill. This place may not be the Village of Grand, but it is Mona's town. It will be meaningful.” He offered a smile. “And your speech will spread from the outskirts throughout the rest of the kingdom at an instant nonetheless.”

I didn't have the energy to smile after he said that. The pressure was hefty. What if I fail? What if I cower and flee? What if the worst and the unimaginable will happen?

Can I...really do what Khaleesi did?

“Rosette, I can see your doubts.” The Heir interrupted my bullying thoughts. I almost jumped at the plaintive pitch of his voice. He advanced forward. His siblings followed. “Please, hear my soul speak. We apologize for everything that we made you go through during these consequential three months. At the start, we were either cold to you, suspicious, or manipulative. The truth was that we were afraid of you, of the unfamiliarities you present to us. You were fascinating, curious, different than most. Meanwhile, me and my brothers underwent a slow and painful circle of misfortune. Our mother, the woman we relied on, was taken away from us. Our father, well, he never acted fatherly at all. Our kingdom was in ruins. Our hearts were frozen...trapped in the ice of winter, stuck in the past that haunted us every passing day.”

I nodded inaudibly.

“So when you crashed into our lives...it was blessing.”

My eyes went wide.

“Hence for us, Rosette, you are the flower that brought us spring. You thawed the ice. Thanks to you, time is moving again. We laughed. We cried. We loved. We played together. We ate at the table together. We planned in a secret room together. Heaven's sake, we even danced with masks, swords, and death together...quite literally!”

Giggles and sniffles filled the air.

I couldn't prevent my tears from spilling. Being emotional is my second most prominent character trait. And these guys... I had come to a realization that they had become an enormous part of my life. I love them. I love them with a love one cannot simply describe in a single word such as love.

“Thank you, Rosette. We thank you. Thank you for coming here. I don't know how we can repay you, but the least we can do is to help you return to your timeline,” stated Prince Eugene through sobs, “to your home.”

Home.

“This can't be our farewells, right—ouch!” Prince Nathaniel staggered forward, arms over his stomach after Prince Jacob elbowed him to stop.

“Everyone...” I squeaked, “...I'm thankful for meeting you.”

The Heir nodded. Prince Jacque's bunny snuffles worsened.

“But I'd like to correct you on something. This had been a home for me, too.” I beamed. “Home is where you guys are. I'll return to my timeline and I'll see you there. Our meetings will occur all over again. It might be a bit sad. However, it will be the most beautiful moment in life for me, because we'll be together again. You guys will forget about me...but I will never forget about you. Never.”

Prince Eugene held my hands. He was so warm.

“Remember what Mona said at her last breath.”

My head bobbed up and down. I croaked a response. “For the Kingdom of Grand.”

“For the Kingdom of Grand.” He echoed.

To my surprise, he sang. His voice was strong yet sentimental. As the wind blew against our wet faces, I thought I heard tinklings of a music box that accompanied the tune.

You are not alone.

His brothers exchanged startled glances. I think they know the song. Soon, their lips curved into a smile.

And they sang along.

You are not alone.

I've been here the whole time singing you a song. Ooh~

I will carry you.

A glimpse and I saw Prince Tayden wiping away his tears. My intuition tells me that he started crying when the song was sung. Is it their lullaby? Is it the queen's...

Before I could deduce any further, Prince Vante grabbed me by the shoulder and leaned in to whisper at my ear while everyone else was completely immersed in the chorus.

“Um, what's wrong?” I prompted.

“I lied about the identity of the person who gave me the instructions. He told me to. But he's being too selfless. You must know the truth.”

I blinked profusely. “Who is it then?”

“It's...”

He whispered the name in a much lower voice. Instantaneously, my gaze drifted towards the said person. The name resonated, pulsating to the tempo of my accelerating heartbeat.

Agustus.

The ebony-haired prince perceived me looking. He frowned and checked to see if his brother had betrayed him, although the tattletale Prince Vante had already escaped behind the other singing royals, pretending that he was tight-lipped the entire minute.

Honestly, it wasn't shocking.

Prince Agustus had always been like this. He was always there for me, and he preferred that I know nothing about his secret acts of kindness. He was always there beyond the scenes. Maybe I missed more of these acts, ignorant to him sneaking along hidden corners where my perspective didn't notice.

“Thank you.” I mouthed at him.

He stiffened. He averted his gaze, turning to the grass.

When the tips of his mouth slowly curled up until I beheld a little gummy smile, I felt my cheeks heat.

So it wasn't Prince Tayden after all...

After crying our hearts out, we then walked back to the sleeping town. The six princes manhandled the soldiers who were fortunately drowsy at the time and tied them up against the trunks of outlying trees for my security. The smoothness and swiftness of their work amazed me. Those poor soliders couldn't have possibly seen their faces, which was good because we don't want anyone affiliated with the king to be aware about them just yet.

I climbed up the rickety wooden staircase and onto a standard platform. Prince Eugene stood behind the curtains to hide where it was close enough for me to hear his voice for support. The sky was still dark but it won't be for long. I have to finish my speech at sunrise. We have to return to the palace by then. Once King Eldred notes his sons’ disappearance, it's death for the revolutionists and their harbinger.

The other princes stationed at the trees, motioning me to begin.

I took a deep breath.

Be like Mona. The fear for the future will make me brave for the present.

Do it.

Do it.

Do it!

“Folk of Louvre, I ask for you to wake! The sun will rise and we must rise with it!”

There was an awkward silence after the flight of scared birds.

Wow. 21st-century me (at peak insanity) would've just screamed at everybody's windows with WAKE UP DAMN IT! Y'ALL AIN'T DEAD TO BE ASLEEP FOREVER! Y'ALL AIN'T SLEEPING BEAUTY TOO SO WAKE UP...SWEETIES!

I ended my imagination upon seeing several alarmed adults peeking through their doors. I did a quick curtsey. A deity of luck must be smiling down upon me, for they then exited their houses, gawking at the stranger that was waiting on their platform: me.

I waited some more.

And eventually, the majority of the townspeople have gathered. Some carried small yellow flames contained in brass candleholders while others simply waded through the darkness, dependent of the torchlights that were on each edge of the stage.

I could see Mr. and Mrs. Giocondo stare at me with—in respect to 18th-century slang—betwattled expressions. I shyly whipped my head to the sky by stimulus.

Still no sign of the sun. Good.

I seized a torch. It was easily within my grasp. They were astounded, taking a step backward. Beside me was the Blackbird painting I produced for the king. It was a symbol of his power over the kingdom, so it's only appropriate that I should do a symbolic performance for His Majesty as well, right?

I restrict a sarcastic smirk.

“Burn it. Burn the painting like what he did to the palace, to my family.” I picked up the hushed orders from the Heir.

I know it's crazy for me to set one of my greatest masterpieces on fire. I know I poured my passion onto its canvas. I know artists tend to leave a hint of attachment on their creations. And yet...

Envisioning the wicked king as the bird in the painting had my hand shake with fury. Like it had a mind of its own, it extended towards the beak of the animal.

Crackle! Pop! Sizzle! The painting was soon devoured by a dazzling display of blazing flames, radiating an impressive flare on the stage. The light made me appear gigantic, and the people gawked in awe. Contrasting to the magnificent image they have of me, I took indistinct slides to the left, staying at a safe distance from the fire as a bead of sweat trickled down my neck.

This was the best time to speak.

I inhaled.

“The paintings of upheaval, the food supply in your cupboards and pantries, the weapons mysteriously dropped at village doors—everything was done by me. It was a message for all of you to open your eyes and sight upon your pitiful current state. It was my generous gift and I call it...revelation.” I put the free hand onto my chest. My heart was like a wild creature, demanding of my care. I focused on the ardency of my voice instead.

I can do this. Summon the Khaleesi within me and bring her forth.

“It is I, Khaleesi Dulcina Ermengard, born from a humble town of your neighbor, daughter of Duva: Kingdom of Doves. I appeal to you all herewith my speech as your fiery ignition of war, as your friend who was never once foe, as your Harbinger of Revolution.”

Their eyes reflected the incandescence of the painting lit aflame. But also in them, I could see fires of a different kind that sparked from within.

“Thus, a revelation to a revolution!” I exclaimed, lifting the torch higher.

No wonder I babbled this line during History class.

“Your suffering pains me so. It is the suffering that you tolerated for two decades, for twenty years, for seven thousand three hundred days! It was that long! Your ill-fated brethren have died in starvation, or in punishments of crimes that were not even crimes. Your crooked king had been playing you for fools in his concept of a crooked kingdom, throwing off the lives of your loved ones once he deems them unnecessary to his game. While all of you grovel at his feet, he sits on the golden chair and drink merry with the money that should have belonged in your pockets. Will you people continue to beg like slaves for a gold coin and blind yourselves of his wrongdoings?!”

“No!” Mr. Fernando shouted with his beaten up stick aimed at the brightening clouds. His resentment for the crowned man was shown in his sunken cheeks, in his eyes hot with tears, and in his unusable leg.

His wife looked at his desperation as she assisted him, her senescent agony had took form as wrinkles and a few strands of white hair. Mrs. Sephine turned to me and cried out. “No!”

Another no erupted from the back, then another from a bearded man, and another from an old widow. Soon, everyone was screaming and crying, cursing and recalling bad memories in a lachrymose cacophony.

Unexpectedly, Queen Isabella's lullaby replayed in my head, yet it was more powerful, filled with more voices of people I don't recognize singing out their comforts—like the warmth of a mother's hand, like the silken feeling of an embrace, like the tenderness of a kiss.

You are not alone.

I've been here the whole time...

At an ephemeral fragment of a moment, the world slowed. I could hear the soft chiming of tiny bells. Behind the crowd, I saw a pretty face of a dear friend.

Mona was there, smiling as though she was at peace. Her body was so transparent that the faint glow of sunlight ran through her, making her seem to have an aureole of happiness around her stature. When she twirled around, her hair lingered slightly with the breeze. It made me remember how much she loved to dance.

Remember.

“This anguish in your heart...!” I hammered onto my chest. “Feel it! Remember it! Take it with you in the battlefield!”

I didn't cry once she faded away at the glory of dawn rising among the mountains. I smiled. I smiled as hard as I could muster, because that was what I couldn't do when she smiled at me the second before she was hanged.

“Join me, my friends! Join me and fight on the twilight of the 5th just like the twilight of this speech, but at dusk until the darkest of nights! Together we shall be unstoppable, unbeatable, and unparalleled! Together we shall remove that devilish man from his throne and regain our kingdom, our home! Together we shall be free!”

They roared and cheered, fists raised.

You are not alone.

I've been here the whole time singing you a song. Ooh~

I will carry you.

I will carry you all.

“For the Kingdom of Grand!” I yelled.

“For the Kingdom of Grand!!!” they echoed.

For Mona, for Queen Isabella, for Gertrude, for the princes, for the people, for the future, for the betterment of all—

For the Kingdom of Grand.

A/N: The songs I repeatedly listened to while writing this chapter (and made me super emotional) were Michishirube - Violet Evergarden ED, Carry You - Ruelle, Fleurie, and Scenery - BTS V. The lyrics are just so...beautiful that they hurt.

I really try my best to convey scenes properly but having writer's block is such a freakin *inserts curse words but let's cover them with cute bts quotes such as lachimolala*

We hope you are all doing well! A constant reminder to everyone: please drink lots of water and take good care of your health! We wish you the best in life! Like the lyrics of Carry You “it's hard to breathe sometimes” so we're proud of you all for still fighting on ♡