Truth and Lies (2)

Why did anyone serve any ruler? There were only two reasons: It was either fear, or the lack of a better option. Of course, neither of those reasons pertained to him. He served the Emperor because he was compelled to do so. He could not physically refuse an order from his brother. He also could not explain his situation to anyone. That was part of the Krovbond, that he could never speak of it.

"Fear," he answered quickly.

"Fear?" she repeated, sounding unconvinced. "I do not see you as someone motivated by fear. Fear of what?"

"Fear of the Emperor," he shrugged. It was not so much a direct fear of his brother, but of what Grigori would order him to do next. He lived every day with that sort of fear.

"I don't believe it," the Princess scoffed.

"Everyone is motivated by fear to some extent," he rationalized.

She opened her mouth to disagree but paused to consider it.

"There is some truth to that," she decided, "and yet it is not an honest answer."

"It is the only answer I can give," he muttered, and that, at least, was completely true.

"Then give me a different truth. Tell me what happened to my sister. What happened to Ora?" she asked.

"She married the Emperor and died in childbirth," Mikhail answered.

"Lies!" The Princess accused.

"No. It is the truth," he frowned. 'Not the whole truth' he added in his head.

"She would never! She would never marry the Emperor! She despised him! She loved Sir Aron! She would never love someone like the Emperor!" she insisted, her voice rising and becoming harsher. He noticed with concern the flush of color that stained her cheeks.

"I didn't say she loved him. I said she married him," he corrected in a low and gentle tone.

"I don't believe you! She must have been forced. He must have threatened her with something. Why? Why would she do it? Tell me the reason!" she demanded.

"I can't tell you that," he muttered, avoiding her eye. A nervous feeling had risen in his gut. She was practically shouting.

"Then why can't I visit her grave? Why won't anyone even tell me where it is?" Do you know what that feels like for a Vezdan? To not be able to hold the final services that help the soul depart? Do you know how many nightmares I've had, that my sister's soul is lost... or wandering... or..." the Princess stopped short, and turned her face from him, covering her mouth with her fist as though she were trying to forcefully hold something in.

The feeling in his gut wasn't nervousness after all. He must have eaten something bad in the village of Zimma. He was beginning to feel a little bit sick. Mikhail shifted uncomfortably on the carriage bench.

"Just... just give me... something. Tell me something completely true," she whispered in a low and broken voice. She turned to face him, and those bright eyes were now dull and watery. Every quiet word she spoke felt like a kick to his weak stomach. He desperately wished she'd go back to being silent and staring angrily out the window. "Tell me what those marks are on your chest, or tell me why you kept me from the Emperor, or tell me why the Emperor wanted me in the first place, or tell me why people say that you killed your own mother, or tell me-"

I can't. I can't tell you any of that," he cut her off. A part of him desperately wanted to clamp a hand over her mouth and crush her against himself until she just stopped. Until she was calm and still and rational and not asking questions in a voice that made him feel like he was being stabbed with a hundred tiny knives.

The Princess pressed her hand to her forehead as though her head hurt and turned her face from him. The carriage at last passed into the forest, and the light grew much dimmer.

He wanted to explain. He wanted to tell her that it wasn't because he didn't trust her, or because he didn't want to tell her, but he feared opening his mouth again. The answer to every question she'd asked was buried underneath a command he could not disobey, and at least now, she was quiet.

Her silence didn't bring him any comfort. Not when she sat with her shoulders hunched and her face hidden behind her hand.

"Don't you understand?" she asked at last and took a long shuddery breath.

Gods, was she crying? Fuck! How could he make it stop?!

"I... I can't keep going this way... I can't... I want to... I need something. Some sort of... some connection... I am so alone... and I have... no one. And you... sometimes, I think... I feel like there's something there, but you don't... you don't... see me as your... your equal... or as a person... or... you just think of me as a possesion... as a... as a Vezdan whore-" The Princess took another shuddering gasp, and her small shoulders shook.

"I don't!" he insisted, lunging forward to catch her hand as a feeling of panic rose in his throat. She looked up at him and there were actual tears in her eyes. The Princess of Vezda was crying. Gods, she was crying. He'd made her cry.

"You wouldn't... you wouldn't act that way towards a noble lady from Unaria. You wouldn't... you w-w-wouldn't," she insisted, turning her face from him again.

"No, no, no. That's not... I don't..." Mikhail stumbled over his words, horrified at this new turn of events. He had to think. What did she want? She wanted a truth. She wanted to know that he thought of more than her body. Why did this upset her so? Gods, what to say?

"You... always... call me a murderer," he began. "You... always say I'm a murderer because I killed your father. We were at war. I... killed... a lot of men... I am a soldier, and he was the leader of my enemy. You must know... you must realize that we had spies in Vezda, even within your court. Your father made a deal with King of the Blackside Islands. He formed an alliance. Blackside agreed to send their troops to support Vezda and the King of Blackside would marry you. Your... your brother... was against it, because the King of Blackside was so old and you were... so young, but your father... your father was desperate. Do you... do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

As he spoke, the Princess uncovered her face and looked up at him through red-rimmed, tear-bright eyes. She listened to every word with a trembling lower lip, and he thought that at least she had stopped crying.

She shook her head 'no' slowly, and he sighed in frustration.

"We knew all of that, because we had spies. We knew that if we killed your father, your brother would not follow through on the alliance with Blackside. It was a decision we made on information we gathered from our own sources. We knew where he would be. We knew about the temple holiday and his part in it," Mikhail took a deep breath before he continued.

The Princess's expression still displayed confusion.

"You... you call me a murderer, and not a soldier or a general, but the truth is, you... you blame yourself. You think that when you were a child, you told me a secret about the King I would never have known otherwise... you blame yourself. You carry this anger at yourself because you think you betrayed your family, because you trusted me, just a little, but the truth is... the truth is... I could have killed Oleg the day I struck down your father. Any other general probably would have, but I... I remembered... how you... how you spoke about him that night. It wasn't your fault. Your father's death had nothing to do with you. If anything, you probably saved your brother's life. For a few years anyway. That's a truth. That's a truth I can share," Mikhail shrugged.

The Princess opened her mouth as though she would speak, but she did not. She began to draw in great shallow breaths and from her came a noise like a tiny, high-pitched whine. Mikhail winced. What was this now?

Her face crumpled and she began to sob in earnest, loudly and without restraint.

Gods! What did he say wrong now? He'd tried his best to fix the problem and the girl had only cried harder and now his insides were tensed up and twisting.

She tossed the blanket to the side and lunged at him. He cringed, hoping that she wouldn't go for his face, but determined to let her punch or kick him if she wanted. Perhaps it would make her stop crying and then-

The girl wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him, burying her face against his chest as she sobbed.

Stars of Torobirk! What was going on? Now she was embracing him? Well, that was an outcome he would not have foreseen. Not a bad one either... or it wouldn't have been if she weren't sobbing so hard.

He slowly and cautiously put his own arms around her, and then began to gently pat her back.

"Was it something I said?" he asked cautiously after a few minutes.

She lifted her head to look up at him, her arms still around his neck.

"Yes... how did you know? That I blamed myself? That I've been carrying that thought since the day father died?" she asked.

"I... I guessed. You get so upset whenever I mention that night in the forest. It was a... a good memory for me, but for you... you can't even bear to think of it. That's guilt usually. If you kill a man on the battlefield, his body might lie there for days in the open. If you execute a criminal, you'll probably display his body for all to see, but if you murder a man, you have to hide the body and never say a word about it."

The Princess coughed but it sounded as though it might have hidden an almost chuckle. She did look like she was trying not to smile. Strange girl!

"I don't think I've ever heard you say so many words at once time," she said and sniffled, but now the corner of her mouth twitched just slightly as if she would smile. She was teasing him!

"I wouldn't have if I'd known it would make you more upset," he admitted.

"No, that wasn't sad crying at all. That was a good cry. That was crying from relief," she explained.

"A... good cry?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Alright then."

His stomach immediately relaxed, and all the tension left his body at once. Now, all he could think of was the fact that the Princess was practically sitting on his lap with her arms still wrapped around his neck. This had actually worked out in a way he never would have expected. The tide of war had shifted, he might still claim a victory.

"Do you still... hate me?" he asked.

"Oh yes, definitely," she nodded, though the fact that her arms were draped over his shoulders as she spoke seemed to belie those words. She smirked as she stared back into his eyes. "But I can also say that today I hate you quite a lot less than I did."

Charge, he decided, and leaned forward to claim her lips.

"GODS!" she yelled and shoved him hard away from her. When he did not budge, she immediately leapt to the other side of the carriage, reclaiming her seat, as far away from him as she could move. "What is wrong with you?! Did you say all that just so you could try and grope me?"

"No," he said honestly, very confused about what had just happened.

"You're an animal. You're really an animal!" she scoffed and snatched up her lap rug from where she had flung it earlier. She shook her head in disgust as she replaced it over her knees and went back to staring out the window, her chin resting on her elbow so that her hand covered her mouth. Wishful thinking, perhaps, but it looked like she might have been smiling behind her hand.

Accepting defeat, Prince Mikhail leaned back against the carriage cushion and heaved a frustrated sigh. At least she had stopped crying. He would rather train hard against the best swords of the Empire for three hours than have to endure another three minutes of the Princess's sobbing. It would certainly be far less exhausting.