"Just--" I raised a finger to get her to stop talking if only for a moment. I couldn't understand what she was saying. Or maybe I didn't want to understand, "What are you telling me?" I asked plainly.

"You have been manipulated ever since you stepped foot in King Richard's court" she replied. "I had tried to warn you but I'll admit I could never have known to what extent"

November 16, Early Evening.

It had been three weeks since the debacle at the Paediatric hospital. As expected, that story ran for as long as the media outlets could justify it. There were so many pictures of me in tears floating around the official channels and even more online.

When I realized most people weren't treating my behavior as something awful, I was eventually able to stop worrying so much about it.

"Amelia, come have a seat with us, dear" The queen called out to me following my curtsy, "Lovette, prepare Amelia a cup, will you?" she spoke to one of three servants that stood quietly in the corner.

"Yes, Your Majesty"

"Sit, sit" Queen Arabella turned her attention back to me as I approached.

The murmur and clatter around the arena began slowly but crescendoed as people started to panic over what they had just witnessed.

Sedition, and in the presence of the Prince no less.

Groups formed and people began talking to each other, some stood as if preparing to leave.

I was no less in shock over what had just happened. A man had run on stage, interrupting the performance, and screaming the words "Dethrone the tyrant king".

Cole was in heaven as soon as we stepped through the doors. The entrance was brightly illuminated to showcase the attendees' costumes as they walked through. I hadn't even had the chance to properly take in the scene when a cameraman took one look and almost immediately accosted us, ushering us to the side where pictures were being taken.
 
"Okay I guess we're going this way now" I muttered to my friend.
 
"Just go with the flow" he replied.
 

"I look stupid, don't I?" I asked Alyssa as she took a step back, mascara brush in hand. It would have been more accurate to say that I hoped I looked stupid.

Alyssa chuckled to herself but kept any answers to my question to herself. She was finding the whole thing, especially my delusion quite entertaining. She knew as much as I did that my androgynous face would take to makeup quite well.

I had pleaded for my parents to do something, anything, as the men gripped my arm firmly and led me away.

"Mum!" I had turned back to scream at her as she cried into my father's arms.

Why weren't they doing anything? Why were they letting these strange men lead me away and for what?

"Nabo, what's going on?" I had turned to my old friend who had been avoiding my gaze.

I had tried to force myself out of their grip with no success. Now, as we approached the shrine and my pleads fell on deaf ears, that same feeling of helplessness began to resurface.

My village was one where superstitions ran wild and unchecked. Even as the rest of the world progressed into the 21st century and turned to science for answers, they remained stuck in the past with their primitive beliefs.

"Jess," I hurried out of the car in pursuit. As soon as we parked, she took off, ignoring me as she had done for most of the journey.

The buildings, trees, sky, everything seemed more interesting to her than whatever I had to say.

Our relationship had been positive up until that point, and she'd even taken my side over her husband's a few times, so I was taken aback by her sudden change in attitude.

Tom and I walked hand-in-hand around the grounds while we waited for our room to be prepared. We'd left Jackson in the care of one of the staff and couldn't help but laugh as he led her on an adventure to show Sarah his new present.

Clinging to Tom's arm, I leaned into him as we walked, grateful for this time alone. It had been too long since we'd held each other like this.

"Thank you" I looked up at him and whispered.

"For what?"

"Just for being here," I said softly and leaned my head on his shoulder.

It was around 8 am the next morning that I ferried Jackson downstairs in search of breakfast. He'd already been up for thirty minutes at that point but I'd been up thirty minutes prior trying to decide what he and I were going to wear for the celebration.

Deciding on Jackson's outfit had been simple enough. I'd chosen a button-down shirt and khakis, a timeless choice for any event. Dressing a young boy was easy, if a bit boring.

A bit more difficult though was choosing an outfit for myself.

I found it difficult to take another step. I wasn't sure I was mentally prepared to go another round with my mother and sister especially with my brother having arrived to provide them with reinforcement.

Even worse was the fact that I'd be bringing Jackson into their presence. I didn't know what I'd do if someone said something cruel to him. I wasn't sure I was strong enough.

I looked down at my son and found him counting the fingers on his free hand as if they were the most fascinating things in the world. He was so precious and I would do anything for him.

Olmund woke up clawing at his throat and for that brief moment after he felt the knife sticking out of his neck, his eyes widened in fear.

Elara remained kneeling over him as she watched the blood drip down his neck staining the expensive fur beneath. There was a hint of disbelief in his eyes as though he couldn't understand why she'd done it.

The real event of the evening for Elara occurred after the dancing began. The other ladies had come to find her and wouldn't take 'no' for an answer as they pulled her onto the ballroom floor.

It had begun quite simply enough. The Carole dance that began the session was a popular circle dance that was familiar even to a peasant like her. The nobles joined hands and moved in a circular pattern while they sang songs joyfully.

If Elara listened carefully enough, she could hear her own heartbeat.

Thump. Thump.

She felt a tightness in her chest that she'd never experienced before. She finally knew what it felt like to be in mortal danger, and she didn't like the feeling.

As Elara and the Grand Marshal made their way back towards the castle in silence, she played with her bow's string in an effort to get her mind off everything. The king, Gawen's daring visit, her mission, and of course the man walking beside her.

"Do you know how to use that thing?" she heard Beorn ask.

"What thing?" she had asked quickly and without thinking, "Oh um, no" she added a moment later.

Wulfric emptied his mind focusing only on the horse's trotting and the sound its hooves made when they hit the dirt. The rhythmic sounds provided much-needed solace and distraction from thoughts about the sour end to his time with Thurstan.

How did I get here? I was lying in an alleyway, weak, cold, taking my final labored breaths with my killer standing over me. He was watching me with that blank stare, his mouth stained red with my blood.

Even as I lay there unable to move, I remember feeling angry, so very angry. It's funny what stays with you in those last moments. For most it's fear, for a lucky few it's acceptance and serenity. For me, it was rage.

I replayed the events in my head thinking if there was anything I could have done differently to avoid the sad, pathetic state I was currently in.

My heart beat rapidly and I walked with shaky steps as I made my way to the concession stand. I repeatedly clenched my fist in an effort to get rid of the tingly feeling where we'd touched.

"We need more popcorn" I'd said to him shortly after our hands parted and we looked away. While that was true, it was mostly meant as a way to put some much needed distance between us.

I couldn't believe I was missing the movie I'd waited so long for. At this rate, I would have to make another trip here to rewatch it.

I promise I didn't mean for it to happen. Before Jordan called me out of the blue yesterday, I hadn't thought about him in nearly four years.

When I knew him in college, he was my best friend's slightly overweight roommate that was a bit too pretty for his own good. Logan and I had tried our very best to get him to cut that long brown hair to no success at all.

This story is set in the world of The First Mother and relies on that story for context. If you haven't, please read that one first. Click here.

It was quarter to three in the afternoon and my worst fears had just come true. I was sitting outside the pharmacy where Mr. Benson had just given me the bad news.