Waiting for Spring - Part I

Epilouge

And so Archibald's, late King of Windsor, story ends. I do not pity his death but whether his intentions were true or not, I cannot tell. Somewhere deep within I have this compelling feeling that he did what he thought was right. Even if his quest was noble, it was probably for the best that it ended so abruptly. If the things he spoke of truly exist then mayhap it is for the best that they stay out of anyone's reach. After all, Jerrod was the true madman. How one's lust for power can overtake you so badly, I cannot understand. Should I be granted one wish I would let my powers go for it is my greatest fear that they one day take whatever good I have left inside of me.

Three weeks have passed now and it seems as if this short chapter of Idwallian history have gone to its grave. Whether it is a good or bad sign that my own mother merely waved the events away as a minor concern I cannot tell. She visited Connor a few days after they found him. She did not seem too pleased having to return home even though they say that her healing magic was a great help. Mayhap her arrogance can be justified, yet I feel that she don't have a full understanding of what happened. Alas she is right, things like this are inevitable. Rulers will always fight, it is simply their way.

The king's only daughter has been contacted though I personally do not believe that she will leave her utopia on the Green Islands. Should she return she will assume her father's place upon the throne until he has fully recovered.

The two council members that were killed when the castle was invaded have been replaced. By men obviously... It will never matter how much effort you put into it, some things never change, no matter what. Then again, why should I even bother? Trying for thirty years never gave me anything back.

I have spent the last week with my report on what happened. Having already read most of the other reports already I feel compelled to sign it soon. Mayhap I don't want it to end. Every time I put my pen to that paper I get a feeling of reluctance. I still think of her, a bit too much. Mayhap I believe somewhere deep inside that if I sign the paper I will forget her. I know that it is not true, but still, it bothers me. They found a lot of bodies in the wreckage, even Archibald's, but not hers. And not a single sign of a Legion frigate under red sails.

Those who were there said it was a slaughter. Ships consumed by raging fires, men rather drowning than burning alive. Through the fogs and flames there should have emerged a ship, yet it never did.

Lord Randal of Glory's Edge claims it is his doing, and his lady vouches for him. Yet there are only words, and fleeting ones at that. Not a parchment, not a seal, to prove otherwise. But I will not spoil the limelight, no. Better grand schemes and plots within plots than ghost ships and goddess-sent saviours.

I should stop thinking about it, but I just can't. She was...is... special. Words cannot describe it. If there ever was anything underneath the burnt scarring of my heart she stirred something deep inside. Purpose, mayhap, some sense of belonging. Something that is not here.

The wound on my arm seems to have been healing properly. It will leave some scar tissue behind, burns even, since I do not possess the same knowledge of healing magic as my mother. Let them remind me of what happened so that one day I will remember that there are those worth fighting for.

Every night when I undress in front of the mirror I still see the markings on my chest, the deep cuts at my heart and even though I do not give it much though nowadays she reminded me of something I once had. When I remove my collar at night I still see the burn marks, the scars. Who was that girl before the cuts and bruises? Who was the twenty-year-old Miranda, she whom was called the King's Pearl, the beloved daughter? Mayhap it is for the best that I do not remember. Whoever I once was does not matter; it was my awakening that shaped me.