You need to find yourself before we go into this, Ran says, coming up behind me and laying her head over my shoulder, tilting me off balance.

I lean my head against the dummy I’d been pummeling in Hans' backyard. I dragged the thing from one of the supply buildings, pushing and pulling it behind a shed and between some hedges that rise almost a half story into the air. There's about two horse lengths back here and no prying eyes, just the way I like it.

And as the sun gets closer to the highest point in the sky, the time for me to be at my first match gets closer.

I shouldn't be spending so much energy before my upcoming matches, but the anger pulsing in my chest needed an outlet before I went into the rings.

Anger is not a good companion for a fighter. It makes you lose control; makes you predictable. A good fighter controls their emotions, a great fighter exploits emotions to their advantage. But uncontrolled rage brings dishonour... and a tail whipping.

“I know, beaut. But I can’t seem to get my head on straight.” I hiss out a breath as my ribs protest the rough treatment, and Ran sends a soothing strength over the bond that eases some of the pokey pain.

Obviously. She bumps her chin against my shoulder, then rubs against it with a purr.

I turn to her before she knocks me over and hug her neck. “What will I find?”

Whatever there is to find.

“How can you be so—accepting? I can’t stop thinking about ways they could have been hurt...” I trail off, my voice choked by a large lump.

She wraps her tail around my feet and lays her nose over my back and I sit as she draws me into her hairy, lion-like mane.

I hold my tears, knowing now is not the time for me to break down. I can’t, or I’m going to be useless in a few hours. I wouldn’t have the energy to do as I need for my family... if they still live.

I bite my cheek until I taste blood. Fight pain with pain.

You know that isn’t the way, my sister. Ran’s voice comes into my mind with a loving caress, taking the sting out of her soft rebuke.

“It’s so hard,” I whisper hoarsely.

I know, sister. I know. The shared pain in her voice as we both endure this is a calming balm to my soul. She does know. She was there when Jack spoke his first word, and Jill cooked her first meal. She was there when I was crying because Momma wouldn’t let me go to Father's funeral.

She loves my family as much as I do. We became her pack when her pack disowned her for bonding with me. We adopted her, and she adopted us in return, with all the loyalty of a huge wolf.

She’s hurting too. But in the meantime, she’s helping me.

I let the few tears squeeze between my eyes. My breath comes in hiccuping gasps.

I don’t know if I can do this, my King.

A soothing presence descends on my heart and soul, easing the ache and making it into something a little more bearable.

“Help me. Help us. Please. I can’t do this alone,” I beg, tears clogging my plea. “What about—?” I think of my family, of their screams, in whatever torture my mind can conjure up.

He obliterates my thoughts with a gentle breath of peace.

I cry into Ran’s neck. I feel like I’m being torn, my King. Like I’m being ripped to shreds, my heart shattered within me. I feel lost and weary, broken and afraid. I thought you’d protect them. I thought you’d protect us. I have listened and I have learned and I have obeyed when you speak. What more do you want from me? I cry out, brokenness shattering against the warm rays of sunshine penetrating the hedges and dancing with motes of dust.

Tingles race up and down my arms as I feel a presence settle in beside me. I weep as the wall of false strength and cheer I built around my weakness vanishes at his presence.

I sense something I’m unsure if I ever have before, or if it’s something he’s letting me see. His... pain. The magnitude of his suffering makes mine appear to be but a speck of sand before the ocean. But more than that—deep down beneath so much pain I can hardly dare to breathe without it hurting—is my own pain mirrored back at me. It’s as if I’m looking at myself through... his eyes. And his anguish and sorrow and hurt at what I and my family are going through: he breaks as I break and he cries as I cry.

“Then—why...” I hiccup, “don’t you change this? You could’ve stopped it.” This magnified pain I feel has taken the wind from the sails of my bitterness and anger. Now I only have questions.

Ran snorts. What would your mother say about that?

I give a small smile, thinking back to nights when she would brush my hair and father would whittle on his figurines. I hear her voice again for those moments when I would question and ask why. "When you look back upon your days, you'll realize the pain was for refinement and the joy was for remembrance. Treasure each as a precious Gift from above." I take a deep breath. "But does that mean making us suffer in the moments between the past and the future? What is the point if there is only pain?"

Ran licks my forehead, wrapping more tightly around me. Does a mother who labors, labor in vain?

"No," I whisper. "It is for the joy of what will come."

A thrum runs through her chest. Has he ever left us? Has he ever failed us?

I shake my head. "No," I whisper, my voice hoarse and choked.

He never has and he never will. He will bring joy from those things that were painful. He will grow hope from the ashes of despair, she says, sounding all at once more wise than a sage and more childlike than a toddler.

I look up at the sky.

I can feel his smile like the warmth of the noonday sun.

“Thank you,” I whisper, both to my beautiful bond who has more trust than I, and to my King, who has always come through, just not always in the way I wanted him to come through.

I almost think I see a flash of golden feathers in a hedge above, but when I glance over, it's gone.

A tsunami of emotion and a tidal wave of power comes over us, wrapped into one whispering voice on the wind that could be just that... a whisper. Together, we will return what was lost.

I bow my head. “I choose to trust you. Even through this.”

His peace and love settles over my weary heart and mind, granting me a reprieve from the emotional battering I’ve been fighting for a long time.

And come what may, he’ll be with us to help us through. He knows. And I trust him... because whether it was my Empathy or not, I saw his heart.

And that is something I will never forget.

~~~

I run a hand through my short hair as I wait for my name to be called.

I'm back, just outside the main arena with the cordoned off areas for the lesser brackets. As matches have been fought and more knights lose, many small arenas have been taken down until there are only six main squares for fighting outside the big arena wall they're butted up against. But as they are taken down, more stands for wares and food has sprouted in their place, and I think there's more people than the last time I was here. Grand.

Above, puffy grey clouds gather, moving quickly, threatening to release their burdens after a lovely morning. So far, they've mostly held off, only drizzling now and then; but it's still made a muddy mess. The many streams of people threading between the six arenas and the tables of wares have seen to that.

This is where Jill would like to be with her friend Becca, cheering on knights and trying to get them to take her tokens... if she were free.

The thought stops me in my tracks and makes my heart clench. Tonight, one way or another, they are coming home.

Acceptance and peace coat my heart in a balm. I will give my best, but whether I win or not isn't as big a deal to me as it once was. I only want my family safe. That is my priority.

But I will still do all I can to protect my nation's prince... even if that means handing off the reins and telling someone else closer to the palace and closer to the prince himself. Hans should know someone trustworthy I can give this to, and then I'll be free of all this: free of the Guardian, free of the tournament, and free of protecting the people of Risia.

For some reason, that makes my heart hurt with grief when it should make me happy... right?

An official with a wide-brimmed red hat waves me over.

"Sir Ri? Follow me. Your match is next."

I trot along after the long-legged official and find my first match is against one of Wolfbane's scarred companions.

Wolfsbane himself, with crutches, stands outside the fighter's circle, a grin stretching his lips and highlighting a scar on his lips. I glare, in no mood for his games this day.

I take down his minion in a few short spans, opening up a huge gash on the man's shoulder and clocking him in the head with a dagger hilt. I step aside as he goes down. That was disappointing. He was much slower and kinda stiff and predictable compared to Hans.

Wolfsbane narrows his eyes at me, but I'm already being moved to another ring for my next match. Feeling petty, I stick my tongue out at the big man. Tweaking the tail of the dragon is foolish, but it's also fun.

Especially when his face gets red as a tomato and he sputters.

I turn around with a smile, my limbs loose and ready for this next fight. After fighting a Bamshee... men don't scare me half as much, oddly enough.

All told, I had to win four matches against ever increasing better men before I could make it back to the main arena.

The Championship Match is next. Mere days after I had my behind handed to me on a humiliating platter—I’m back again. And for once, it doesn't matter to me if I win or lose. Once, I wanted to prove myself against the metal of these men. But now? I only want my family safe. I'm still breathing despite so many things calling for my head and foreign nations wanting me and my bond for reasons I don't know.

I've survived the hardest time of my life. One measly giant is nothing compared to losing my family, facing a Bamshee, or telling someone of a loved one's death.

Whether I win or lose... I need not prove myself any longer. I am in the King's arms, and so is my family.

I know whose I am. And I am enough.