~ 12 ~

The Dull Ache of Merely Existing

My talon sliced through the bridge of hair, the ponytail, free from its roots, falling with the princess's hand. It dropped to the ground, fingers twitching, struggling to release. Slowly, and with deep breaths, the former princess opened her hand, and the hair she had been known for dropped to the grass.

Soon to be carried by the gusts of winds, strand by strand, lock by lock, until the last of the proof was no more. Something inside of me wanted to catch some of it. Not that there was anything I could do with it. Store in my cave, with my hoard, maybe.

But that felt too weird—even for me.

"And so," the woman began as she rose, stumbling, barely straightening. "Princess Astria Laleen is no more. I wonder if I should change my name as well. Astria isn't a common one."

I pushed my lips to the side and shrugged, returning the paws of my claws to the ground before her, my head looming over the tree branches again. "Who knows? It might be more common than you think in the Mainland. Word of your escape or demise might not even reach there."

Astria huffed and crossed her arms. "Not with the connections my father has. He'll force every favour until he's the one owing everyone."

My expression drooped. "But... isn't that a good thing? I know you're running away and all that. But if he's willing to spend so much to make sure you're okay—doesn't the care stand for something?"

Astria looked down at the emerald grass, warmed and brightened by the sparse sunlight, whatever filtered through the forest's foliage. "It's never been about my father not loving me. Not... caring for me. But, he wants me to live his life. Always doing what's right. What duty expects of us. To play our parts and suffer when we're alone all for the sake of—"

She held up a palm and interrupted herself. "Sorry. I said too much. My father will do everything in his power to ensure that I'm safe. Safe, and living the same restricted lifestyle."

I bit my bottom lip and spoke stupid words. "And I guess asking your father not to live the typical life of a princess didn't work out?"

Astria turned to the pond, which sparkled from the sunlight, causing my tongue to water as it'd been a while since I'd last had a drink of anything. Her blade stuck out in the pond, stabbed through the mud and pebbles. Water lapped at it, washing the remaining trickles of blood.

"We've fought about it all of our lives," Astria continued as her feet waded into the water, coming to grasp the handle of the sword. "My mother... I didn't know much about her. Apparently, she fought with my father on the battlefield. One of the few women allowed out on the field on this island."

I winced. "I hear things are a bit different on the Mainland."

Astria shook her head at my words and pulled up the sword, expertly slashing it in the air, drying it of water and muck. She pointed it forward and endured its weight. "She died shortly after giving birth to me. Same with my sisters as I was growing up. You'd just wake up... and suddenly, one of their rooms was empty. They'd just be gone. Just like that. Played with yesterday... then... just gone."

Astria slashed the sword to her side. "My uncle often snuck into my room to teach me the ways of battle. He'd speak of wars and clashes, various types of enemies and strategies. Adaptation and trickery, in the absence of dexterity or strength, were a lady's last hopes."

I nodded along, lacking in the conversation, imposing on personal information. "Sounds like he was a real one."

"Sometimes I wish it was him to have killed my father—and not the other way around."

Fucking dark, dude.

"Ever since then, the only practice I've had is when I've snuck out on my own." Astria's feet splashed out from the pond toward a tree of low-hanging branches. Placing two hands on a branch, she pulled downward, cracking the wood, little by little. "Even then, I haven't had much in terms of a fight. I got lucky on that back of yours. I... I don't even know how I would do against a typical bandit."

I did my best to smile. "Hopefully, you'll never have to find out."

Astria chuckled. "Not in this life." She broke off the branch with a final pull, shuffling on her feet, tossing the broken twig aside. She gripped another branch, pulling on it.

"So..." I couldn't help but begin. "What's the plan now?"

"Same as it always was," Astria started as she snapped another branch and, with the heft of wood, tossed it next to the other. Dusting her hands together, she walked over to the bundle, kneeling before it. "Head toward the Northern Port. Offer whatever is needed to board a ship for the Mainland. Try to find some work and an inn while I'm there. Revise the plan once I've had more to go off."

That was it? It seemed... kinda lacklustre. I mean, sure. It made sense. That was really one of the few routes opened to her after giving up the crown or tiara or whatever the fuck that it's called. But it was strange to think that all that buildup, that escape from the wedding, all of it—that it would lead to a woman like her working a typical nine to five.

It wasn't that there was anything wrong with that.

Only that something didn't feel right, either.

"You're not going to regret giving up being a princess?"

Astria lowered her hands over the branches, a blue glow casting from her hands, the magic channelling and growing and size. A sphere grew over the branches, consuming them in light. "There's some guards and things that I'll miss. But the problem is that you'll reach a point in a particular life where you have this dull aching. A hatred for being there, for being a certain way."

She sighed and focused on the spell. "When you've reached the point where you don't care about the differences, even though you're throwing yourself into a worse, harder life, the fact that allows you to escape your current one—then you know that you have to make that change."

Astria looked up at the trees in search of something. "I don't care if I'm overworked, beaten or tested. It'll be something different. It'll be a chance at something new. I won't be waking in the same room to the same chores to eat with the same people. I'll actually have some control over my fate. What I do... will be because I choose to do it."

I glanced down at her words. Were we that much different? I wanted nothing more to be left alone in my cave, despite the dulling ache of existence. She was locked in a room while I hid away in a cavern. Life was nothing more than routine. An endless repetition of idleness, with a few days of surprise, until it finally came to die.

I had chosen to embrace that dulling ache, to tolerate and endure it, to live the easy, boring life, doing nothing with my new form, abilities, or mystery that I had awoken to. Was there anything wrong with doing nothing? Was it a sin to simply waste away?

The world would go unaffected. Some people might be helped because I decided to do something but, in the same vein, through intention or not, some people may be hurt because I chose to do something. But was that really what I was worried about? Because, in choosing to do anything, I might help or hurt others?

It's a reason... but not the primary one.

Would I care if I died doing nothing? Would I be able to embrace death better, in the end, if I had done more with my life? Was that what this was about? Going on adventures, discovering shit, helping good people, hurting bad people, so that in the end, in feeling that I lived a full life, that I could die easier—that death, somehow, would be less scary.

No fucking way THAT'S the case. Packed life or not. When it comes to taking your last breath, you're going to be scared shitless, no matter what. Well, your corpse is going to be shitless no matter what, because when you die—

Yeah, yeah. We all already know about that.

But... if it wasn't about meeting death, either empty or full... then what caused that dull, aching feeling? What caused someone to be living the life of a princess of a content dragon to abandon it all in search of a struggle? Did we exist only to struggle? Was that programmed into us?

If it's programmed, then there's no greater meaning beyond that programming, and your search for meaning will have been in vain, and that will cause you further dread and depression, and then the more you think about how none of this mattered, you'll—

"Could you knock down that bundle of vines for me?"