Amy was a strong and skilled person. He trusted her, of course. He had to, being his teammate. A team couldn't function in the worst situations if they didn't trust each other absolutely.

But...

Like this, unconscious. Like this, with the only color in her cheeks being that of spilled blood. Trembling in his arms. Her body felt so small and it felt as if the girl's life could end at any moment. That she would simply slip away as they watched, unable to do anything.

But Amy couldn't be that bad, really. She couldn't be that bad. He had examined her and most of the blood staining her body was not hers, but from the corpses scattered around the inside of the house. She had only one wound on the back of her head. Bleeding copiously, yes. But, although she was wounded, it would by no means kill her. She was out of danger.

He could be sure of that. And he was.

But that, admittedly, didn't stop him from being this scared. It didn't stop him from feeling like his heart was going to explode. Too close. He didn't know what had happened here, exactly. But Amy could easily have died. Been murdered.

Desmond looked around the room. Amy had fought bravely, proving her greatness. There were about half a dozen corpses in the room, and the signs of battle were visible. The blood and guts, the burns, blocks of ice that had dug into the walls, into the floor, biting deep.

Amy had taken on all those people, sorry, animals, by herself. Still, she had made it this far.

And the enemies... Once they had managed to overcome her, had they just knocked her unconscious? They hadn't taken a moment to finish her off? To make sure she didn't interfere anymore? Desmond knew this wasn't the time, but he couldn't help but think about it.

Desmond knew he had said he didn't care about the details, just that Amy was okay. And that was what mattered, in the end. Amy would survive. But this was just too weird. Too weird. What exactly had happened here?

Abigail went back inside the house.

Apparently, she had chosen not to follow the attackers in the golden masks. Or, rather, to stay close to him. That was more likely. In any case, it could be said that they didn't need to pursue them.

After all, there were a few of them right here who couldn't move.

"You don't have to worry," was the first thing Abigail said to him, stopping where they were and dropping a knee to the ground. "I took a look at her before I left. She'll be fine.”

Desmond nodded his head, simply.

"She could have died," Christina said, her voice trembling. "I don't know how she didn't die.”

"That's true. It doesn't make sense," Abigail admitted.

"You say that as though it's nothing! As if you don't care!”

"Of course I care. Like yours, her death would hurt Desmond very much.”

Christina frowned and gritted her teeth. He sympathized with her anger. But, at the same time, he couldn't blame Abigail for having...very narrow priorities. In a manner of speaking. Her concern for Amy and Christina might just be an extension of her love for him. But at least she cared. That was what counted, wasn't it?

"Not the time for this.”

Maybe Christina was going to say something, but then she fell silent, looked sideways at him, now angry at him. He thought she'd spit out something like, "Always taking her side, huh?" It probably would have been that.

But then Amy's eyelids twitched.

"She's awake," Desmond said, and Christina closed her mouth, pursed her lips, and focused all her attention on her friend.

Amy opened her eyes slowly, with effort. It was nighttime and there were no lights on, but her gaze and expression changed as if there was a blinding light bothering her, before she managed to open her eyes fully.

"Is this... what they mean when they say... that the... ... when they say... life flashes before your eyes?”

Desmond smiled unconsciously, as if she had told some kind of joke. But in reality, it wasn't funny at all.

None of it was funny.

"You're okay," Christina said, taking Amy's hands in hers. "See?"

"Oh. I'm alive?" Amy's eyes were bright with tears. "I had already prepared myself. I'd already... said goodbye to you."

"But you're okay. You're okay, we'll be together."

"All of us," Amy corrected her. "I need... the three of us to be together. All four of us."

Desmond swallowed. There was a lump in his throat all of a sudden. He knew Amy loved him, but knowing it and seeing how she, even in this state, thought of going to bat for him first was a very different thing. The three of them together.

They were family, yes. For better or worse.

Despite the ups and downs.

"Okay. I promise. But don't ever... don't ever scare me like this again. "Christina, too, was barely suppressing the urge to cry.

Not so long ago, Desmond had been ashamed of crying. He had believed that it was only showing weakness, and that couldn't be allowed, because then the world would swallow you alive. But the experience of living as a human being and not as a weapon had taught him that crying could be a wonderful thing. Like now. Amy reached out a hand. With a fingertip, she wiped a spot of blood from the corners of Christina's mouth.

"I'll do my best," she said at last. "Speaking of which, how come I'm alive in the first place?"

"We know as much about that as you do," Abigail said. Or less? Did you hear or see anything?

Amy shook her head slightly, grimaced as if the movement had hurt? Of course it hurt. She'd been hit in the head hard enough to knock her unconscious. What an idiot he could be.

"I see. It will remain a mystery, at least for now."

"I guess I should just say thanks and be done with it, instead of trying to discover every detail. Or something like that," said Amy.

"Yeah," Christina said.

"Those sons of bitches got away from us, but at least we'll be able to catch them soon," Desmond said. "Thanks to your efforts."

"What do you mean?

"The ones you killed.

"Oh, right. Yeah, right." Amy smiled without much energy. "I'm still a little bit out of it."

And she couldn't be blamed for that.

"Help me to... Thank you. "They pulled her over to a table. Amy leaned on it with both hands, then plopped down on a chair. It had to be a table in the kitchen, because little of the living room had been left intact after the fight. Amy took a deep breath, throwing her head back. Toward the ceiling."

"Rest," Christina said, "Don't push yourself any harder than you have already. Desmond, I'll stay with her. Go take a look."

Take a look at one of the golden masks. One of the sons of bitches who had done this. Now that they had made sure Amy was reasonably well, the next thing was to rest, recovering, gathering information.

For revenge. They couldn't let this go unpunished.

Of course, it wasn't enough with dead bodies scattered around their living room to set things right. Desmond wouldn't be satisfied until each one of those sons of bitches were no longer in this world. Christina and he had their differences and friction, now.

But in that their hearts were as one. For sure.

The nearest corpse was on its back, so he had to turn it over. He bent down and put a hand on the golden mask covering the face of that absolute son of a bitch. He yanked on it...

It didn't move, not even an inch.

Desmond frowned. Okay, he wasn't one hundred percent, far from it, he was still recovering from what had happened to him. And he wasn't even using the physical reinforcement. But, not having the strength to remove a mask, that was something else. It was strange, whichever way you looked at it.

He hesitated, but in the end he used both hands. It seemed strange to him, but well, whatever it took.

Except, even that wasn't enough.

No matter how hard he pulled on the mask, it wouldn't come off.

What's more...

It was going down, instead of up. What?

Melting. It was melting in Desmond's hands. Of course, that was wreaking havoc on said person's face. He could see the melted skin and flesh slipping off the sides, revealing, in some spots, the bone glistening underneath. The burning smell was overpowering from so close.

Abigail saw that he was in trouble and moved closer.

Desmond stepped aside, hoping she could do better than him. But even she wasn't able to.

By trying to remove his mask, Desmond had started a chain reaction. Now it was too late to stop this. If indeed it had been possible from the beginning to remove their mask and see their faces.

The golden mask melted away until there was nothing left.

By then, all that remained was an amorphous mass. Melted skin and flesh, in strips, that gave not even a faint hint of what its original shape might have been. Dozens of holes through which the skull was visible. A chunk of flesh hung from the right socket, and the first thing Desmond thought of was maggots, writhing in that darkness. His stomach churned.

"Shit," Abigail said.

They had other attempts. One per corpse, evidently. So they had...four more attempts, confirmed. Desmond wasn't hopeful that in those four attempts they were going to do any better. But they had some things they could try.

Christina.

That was the first thing he thought of, now that both he and Abigail had failed to accomplish that. One of the side effects of her magic allowed her to sense the emotions of her enemies. It's not like the girl could read their minds, but if all else failed, maybe that could lead them in the right direction?

No, now that he thought about it, Christina had been indisposed for most of this incident, as had he. So surely she hadn't picked up on anything, hadn't had a chance to.

By the time they had gotten downstairs, it had all been over....

Speaking of which, why had she been indisposed in the first place? He'd seen her bleeding from the mouth.

But not for a single moment had it crossed his mind that she had fought and gotten hurt. If she had fought, in the middle of the night to boot, all the intruders would have been crushed without being able to resist or even flee. So it must have been for another reason, though he couldn't think of which.

Another thing to ask about.

Too much had happened in too short a time, as far as Desmond was concerned.

Now it was more important than ever to proceed calmly, precisely for that reason. First things first, he told himself.

"Yuck," Christina said, looking at the golden mask whose face had melted into the mask, melting everything. But she didn't sound affected. She sounded more like she'd found a strand of hair in her food, or something. Disgusted, but like it was no big deal. It made a lot of sense, of course.

They'd seen worse than that. Plenty, actually. But still... Desmond felt nervous looking at the melted face. He couldn't say he'd ever seen anything like it, but still.... No, he supposed it was precisely because he had seen something like that more than enough.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

"What happened? "Amy asked. Of course, she hadn't been close enough to see anything. Christina was standing in the doorway of the kitchen door, she had come over to take a look. While Amy had stayed behind.

"The mask melted over her face as soon as Desmond tried to take it off," Abigail said. "So there's nothing left. Recognizable, I mean."

"Fuck."

“Girl, come help us.” By that she meant Christina, of course, not Amy.

“I was on my way," Christina said, walking forward. She brought the shadows of the room to life to first grab another of the corpses and then try to rip off the mask it was wearing.

Too quickly. She hadn't given them time to discuss how to do it, or what exactly to do.

Desmond figured she had hoped the strength of her shadows would be sufficient to get the job done. Or that she could do it fast enough that the mechanism wouldn't kick in. Or that said mechanism wouldn't detect her shadows, for some reason or another. Those seemed like good ideas to him, all of them.

Unfortunately, the second attempt ended the same as the first. Empty hands, one more faceless corpse.

“Okay. That didn't work," Christina said quietly. There was anger boiling under the surface, but not because of this, but because of what had happened. For what had almost happened.

There were three bodies left.

Three, so they could afford several mistakes, but....

It wasn't ideal. He wanted to see the face of at least one of these animals, however, it was possible that the most recognizable face among them, an important, high"ranking person, perhaps, had already melted along with their golden mask. And when they finally succeeded in doing this, if they succeeded at all, they would only find a nobody who would lead them nowhere. Who would not help them solve this.

“What about the city guard?” He asked no one in particular.

“A couple of guards stayed behind," Abigail replied, "they wanted to go in, see if we were okay, and handle the situation. I told them to go after those who were fleeing like the others.”

“And they just obeyed you?”

“They know, Desmond.”

“Oh. Oh, right. I guess they all know.”

“Yeah, I guess. Enough of them, at least.”

Desmond nodded his head.

“That's not what matters now," said Christina. “What do we do with these?”

“We should try one more time," said Abigail, "and if we fail, we leave the two remaining bodies in the hands of the queen's men. Very trustworthy men, to see if they have better luck. It's the best we can do under the circumstances, I think. But in the end, I'll go with whatever decision Desmond makes. Whatever it is.”

Christina, for some reason, frowned as if angry. The reason had to be impatience, which he understood. He, too, wanted to get this resolved as soon as possible. He also wanted, nay, needed the satisfaction of killing those sons of bitches.

But Abigail's words made all the sense in the world. As always.

Desmond nodded his head.

"Okay, we'll do it. But there's still the question of how to try. I mean, if we just repeat what we've tried so far, it will fail as usual," Desmond said. "Any suggestions?

“I can't think of anything," Abigail said.

“No different approach," Christina said, turning her head back. "Amy? What do you think?"

Desmond moved to the side, so he could see into the kitchen and, by extension, Amy's reaction to it. Amy had a hand on her head, over the gash on her head, squeezing. And she reacted predictably. As if that response had caused her pain.

He wished he hadn't moved to look at her. But it was his responsibility to not avert his gaze. For he was responsible for this. This was his fault. His fault, his fault, his fault. So by looking away was the least he could do. Whatever pain he felt seeing her in that state was the least possible punishment, he deserved so much more.

She could have died so easily.

In fact, I still don't understand how she didn't die, so....

“I'm sorry," Amy said, finally. "My head hurts so much that I can't even think""

“Don't worry about it. I should have known better. I'm the one who's done something wrong here. So I'm sorry.”

“Don't overdo it so much," Amy said, with a soft smile, looking down.

Desmond's gaze passed between the two of them, and he felt the gap, the rift, that had formed between the three of them more acutely than ever before. He vaguely remembered when Amy had lamented that she was being left out. He had thought he understood her pain. Believed. But now he really did....

He wished he had never understood. It wasn't progress of any kind, more like several steps backwards, that understanding.

He felt as if his chest was being crushed, as if he was crushing it himself, with the force that physical reinforcement gave him, wanting to punish himself. And did he want to? If he wanted to, it was only because he was cowardly enough to believe that it would fix anything.

That he could depend on the pity of the two of them upon watching him suffer, rather than fix the damage he had caused with his own hands. It was the right thing to do. But... alas, if only it were as simple to do as to say.

If only it were.

Time passed, shrouded in an overwhelming silence, in the darkness of the night, filled with strange noises and murmurs. People would be talking about what happened. Frightened. Looking for answers.

Desmond felt guilty about it. But only vaguely guilty.

Surprisingly, Amy was the one to break the silence. Leaning on the table with one hand, the other over her head still, she staggered forward. Christina, concerned, rushed to her aid.

“What do you want to do? You don't have to force yourself. If you've had an idea…”

“I have, yes, and only I can carry it out," Amy said. Christina helped her walk over to them. When she got closer, Desmond saw that there was no cut on her head. There was blood, yes, on her forehead and in her hair, but dry. When...? Oh, that's right. She knew how to heal. “So far we've thought about how to remove their masks. But what about breaking them?”

Break them. He didn't know where she was going with that, frankly. What would change, and how would they do that in the first place.

If Abigail, Christina's shadows, and he hadn't been strong enough to rip the masks off their faces, then breaking them would be even harder. Desmond didn't open his mouth to say that, however. He couldn't think of a way to say it that didn't sound too harsh.

Cowardly, he thought. Again.

You're nothing but a coward.

"Wrapping the mask in ice, then one of you can hit it. "Making it shatter. That might work, but…”

"It would also damage the person's face," Abigail said. "But not that bad. It's worth a try. Bet there'll be enough left to make it identifiable. Okay, sounds good to me.”

"Yes. Proceed," Desmond said.

Amy looked at Christina, apparently still seeking approval, as the girl responded by nodding her head. And then she took another step forward. She crouched slightly, under the sword, her point almost grazing the mask. Almost, but not quite. Doing so would surely activate the mechanism. Whatever it was, exactly. Something like his gun, probably.

Amy threw ice, wrapping the mask, and only the mask, with it. Apparently, the mask didn't detect the pressure of the ice as an attempt to remove it, since it hadn't begun to melt along with the subject's face. Or perhaps Amy had wrapped it too quickly for it to activate, or wrapping the mask with ice had first slowed the process and then stopped it.

In any case, it was wrapped in ice and nothing had happened. Which meant this could work.

And now...

Desmond didn't have much strength, now. More than he thought, probably, since even Christina and her shadows had been unable to tear the mask from his face. So it wasn't like he was too weak. Just wounded. But still...

"Christina, you do it," Desmond said. "A good blow.”

The girl nodded.

She created a hammer of shadows and with it she smashed the thick layer of ice, but not before giving them time to move out of the way, also creating a shield of shadows in front of her. Fragments flew everywhere.

And what was left, after that violent spectacle...

Enough. He had wounds, big cuts, blood everywhere. Pieces of flesh and skin falling off. But enough to be able to identify him.

The problem was that they had never seen him before in their lives. It was not someone they had come across by chance on the occasions when they went to the palace, for example, or someone they had seen at the side of the queen, that is, princess while they were traveling by boat back to the capital.

"I have never seen him," Desmond said.

"Yeah, me neither," Abigail confirmed. "But at least he's identifiable. We take him to the palace and someone will know who he is."

"You sound very confident," Desmond commented.

"That's because I am," she said in response.

"Why is that?" Christina asked, or rather it sounded like a demand, standing there with her arms crossed. Staring harshly at her. But the steel in her gaze was not directed at Abigail...it was directed at those responsible for this.

There were many problems between them, but at least, here and now, hatred united them.

"Amy," Abigail said.

"What do you mean?" Abigail asked.

"They defeated you, but they didn't kill you. There's only one explanation for that, I know. I just... it hadn't crossed my mind before. Because I couldn't think. I could only think about... Anyway." She shook her head "This has to have been an insider attack. Not dogs of the Empire, Albioniense. Maybe the queen's men.”

"She wouldn't have... "Desmond said. Immediately, he had rushed to her defense in front of Abigail. Why? He was grateful, of course, for the house, for this opportunity, even if it was a mutually beneficial relationship. But that was all. It's not like he had a good opinion of her or anything.

The confusion was what made him speechless, not what Abigail added shortly after.

"I didn't say she knows. She's a child. As I told you on the boat, I'm sure there are many who think nothing of lying to her and working behind her back. And not only is she young, she's also a woman. So even worse. You know how men are.”

The generalization bothered him a little. But hey, she wasn't wrong, so he could only keep his mouth shut. In general, too many times, men looked down their noses at women in positions of authority. As if they were just playing games instead of fulfilling their role. As if they weren't physically or mentally capable of doing so.

Christina and Amy reacted as if they had personal, and painful, experience with that fact. Especially Christina.

"To some men, we never stop being girls," Christina said, frowning, her head down. The bangs of her long hair covered her eyes, now.

"It's true," said Abigail. I've been in this world a long time. Two thousand years of hell. I've seen peace and destruction, followed by rebirth, over and over again. But some things... Some things just can't seem to change.

Now he felt left out, but in a very different way and for a very different reason. And it wasn't as unpleasant, far from it, but....

But, still, I'm feeling a little uncomfortable right now. It had to be admitted.

Something he had no experience with. Something he could empathize with, but never understand. Not really.

Simply because of the fact that he had been born a man.

So...

Something strange crossed his mind. He shook his head.

"Getting back to the point, why are you so convinced? What explains them not killing her?

"That they think they're heroes, working for the good of the kingdom," Abigail said, plainly and simply. "So of course they wouldn't kill an innocent. That would go against who they think they are. The lies you tell yourself carry more weight than anything else. Because without them, you couldn't move forward.”

"I see," Amy said, slowly and after a while. "So that's why my life was spared. For such a cheap reason. Sounds like a bad joke, to be frank. Like a fucking joke.”

Christina put a hand on Amy's, squeezing.

"I don't care what the reason is. The point is you're alive. That's more than enough for me. For everyone. Isn't it, Desmond?”

"Of course it is.”

But it's not enough, he said to himself, not by a long shot. I have to expose them for what they really are.

And then execute them.

Until then, he wouldn't be able to calm down.

——

They did the same with the other corpses, with identical results. One was more damaged than the others, but it would still be recognizable, well, to anyone who knew it in the first place.

Carrying the corpses, they were to go to the palace, but the princess was quicker, showing up at their door with that lengthy vehicle, the name of which still escaped him.

For the moment at least, he'd refer to it as 'royal carriage', because that's what it was, after all.

Desmond clicked his tongue, as soon as he saw it. Because it had already made it impossible at all to hide the special relationship between them, all the people, from doors and windows, or directly on the street, had seen it.

But he supposed that had already been out of reach, if even a member of the city guard knew who they were.

And it wasn't worth getting angry about anyway.

The most he'd get from her would be an apology, then they'd still have the problem on their hands. So why the fuck even bother? That was his reasoning.

They loaded the bodies into the trunk of the vehicle, then got in it, to head for the palace.

They were all seated in a semicircle.

A wall separated them from the driver. They could speak freely, without worrying that he would hear them. But they kept silent. No one was in the mood to talk, and what would they talk about anyway?

Christina gave him the answer.

"It's the first time I've ever ridden in a limousine.”

Limousine. So that was what it was called. A rather odd name, it sounded silly, in her opinion. What did it even mean in the first place?

Anyway. Everything had to have a name, smart or not. And that was the right name.

Thank you, he thought.

"Not for me," Amy said.

"Ah, no? "Charlotte asked.

Amy flinched at the sound of the princess's voice, as if she had forgotten that she was in the same vehicle as them. And who she was, for that matter.

"No, your majesty. My family is quite wealthy, I suppose. And my... progenitor... he had quite an ego. He wanted all kinds of luxuries. He wanted to compare himself to the royal family. So he got himself a limousine just for that reason.”

"I see. I would tell you he looks like quite a character, but you're aware of that and more, aren't you. Progenitor. Not father or dad. That says a lot.”

Amy stiffened.

"Don't worry. I don't mean to... poke at your wounds. Forgive me if I make you nervous or hurt your feelings. I'm just not used to being around people my age. I don't know what it's like to talk normally.”

"There's no need to apologize, Your Majesty.”

"Call me Charlotte, if you don't mind.”

"I couldn't… ” She hastened to say, embarrassed. Her cheeks lit up like two candles.

"Abigail, Desmond and I have had our problems. But being spoken to as if I'm not who I am, that's never bothered me, rather the opposite. I find it refreshing, actually.”

Amy allowed herself to relax. Her shoulders slumped.

"I get it.”

"You do? Again, I don't... I'm not trying to be sarcastic. It's a genuine question.”

"Yes. "I don't have as much wealth and privilege as you, but enough to understand. What it's like to not be normal, to live a life apart from normal people. Looking for a place to fit in when you don't fit in anywhere. Just being able to... being able to play the role they want you to play... Have I crossed a line?”

"No," Charlotte whispered. "You got it right.”

Amy was even redder now.

They went on in silence for a long while, watching the surroundings pass in a blur through the windows.

"I would like to talk about what happened, first of all. I'm not talking about the guys with the golden masks. I'm talking about... Those tremors, the reports I've heard.”

Abigail crossed one leg over the other. As always when she spoke or said something, Desmond's gaze was drawn. Everything about her fascinated him. He couldn't help himself.

"It's none of your business. Just know that it won't happen again.”

Amy gasped as if Abigail had threatened the princess with death, or something.

"I'll settle for that.”

He'd like there to be less unnecessary hostility between the two of them. But if Desmond said something like that now, it would sound like he was defending Princess Charlotte, and that was not what he intended to do. Nor what he should do, under any circumstances. He was Abigail's soldier.

He was on Abigail's side. It was as simple as that. But... others didn't find it so simple, apparently.

"Don't you have something to say, Desmond?" The little princess pressed him.

"You heard my answer.”

"Yes. I suppose so. Whatever she says, eh?”

Desmond grimaced, for that barb he couldn't deny. But, in truth, rather than being angry, it should be a relief. Charlotte, as Amy had said, had never been allowed to be a normal person. He was sure she had been forced to mature too quickly, and that she was good at what her position required.

The lies, the scheming. The coldness and the manipulation. But, deep down, she was still a child. Because she hadn't needed to make a mean"spirited remark like that, it gave her no advantage, tactical or otherwise.

She had said it simply to shoot back at him. And it had stung him, but really he should be glad that it was... surprisingly childish. For the girl's sake and nothing else; she didn't have to be anything more than a stranger for him to wish her well. That obligations and responsibilities hadn't crushed her innocence and spirit was a good thing. Not only for herself, but for the people she was supposed to lead, too. If there had to be someone at the top, at least someone who cared about more than lining their own pockets.

Of course, he had no intention of underestimating her.

Underestimating the princess of Albion would be fucking insane. She had more resources and more men than anyone in the world except the Emperor of the Azure Empire.

To top it off, she herself was extremely dangerous alone.

Still, it was a good reminder of what Charlotte really was, rather than what Abigail's words sometimes led her to believe. Not some sort of sinister mastermind, but a girl her own age nonetheless.

"Let me ask you again, do you recognize any of the corpses?" Abigail asked.

Charlotte didn't flinch, as if she had been waiting for that question. And she answered the same way as the first time.

"No.”

Melted Gold: FIN