Mara was asking me an impossible question. One that I was afraid to answer truthfully. It wasn't something I could easily lie about either though. The fact that she asked it in the first place meant she must have already been wondering herself. If she didn't already know the answer that is.
Her words echoed through my head. ‘Do you even care about this at all?’
She turned away at my silence, still waiting for an answer, and I knew if I didn't give her one there were going to be consequences. ‘Even if the answer is that you don't know, you still have to answer the question.’ That was what she always said.
I wasn't sure and I didn't know what I was supposed to say. Regardless, keeping that in mind I found the courage to speak. “Care about what… Care about training? About becoming strong, fighting, learning how to use a greatsword, ride a horse, or uphold our family’s honor… I don't care about any of that.”
She turned around slowly with her fist clenched. The possibility of her hitting me was all too real, but I continued anyway. It was too late to take it back. “You know what I care about…” I paused and her fists relaxed. I could feel blood rushing to my face like I was about to cry, but I held back my tears.
“I care about being able to wear real clothes that aren't itchy and too small. I want to take a real bath in our bathhouse, and not in a freezing cave in the woods. I care about getting an extra half hour of sleep, and having an extra warm blanket now that it's getting cold… I care about…” I stopped, if I continued I knew I was going to start crying, so I clenched my teeth and took a deep breath in. “Forget it… It doesn't matter anyway.”
A long pause hung in the air. This time it was her that was having trouble looking at me, when she finally did, she began to speak in a soft, almost sad voice. “You should count yourself lucky.”
It wasn't a completely unexpected response, at least she didn't hit me for yelling at her. Still, however small it was, there was a small part of me that was hoping she would say that she was sorry. That was just a dream though.
‘I should count myself lucky?’ “Yeah, why is that?”
“Even now your life is still far better than that of others, by all rights you should be dead.”
“Luck is relative, if I want to be dead then aren't I unlucky? You can't win a game of wit against me, Mara.” Since I started using logical thinking, I was able to completely remove my emotions from the conversation. Suddenly I was a ghost, a hollow shell. I felt nothing.
“If that's the case, one could say that every second you're alive is luck, simply because you want something that's bad for you, yet despite any of your efforts you haven't achieved it yet.”
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“Maybe, but don't you think some things are worse than death?”
“Nothing. Death means that you are done. If your entire family dies before your eyes, it is still better than you yourself dying. From your perspective, you are alive. You can still live, you can breathe, and you can fight.”
“If nothing is worse than death, then why would someone choose to die in order to save others? If someone dies to save another, that man would be called a hero, but he would not willingly die to save the other man unless he thought that the other man's dying would be worse than his own death. Likewise, if the life you have is worse than death, it would be lucky for you to die. Although, I suppose it would be luckier if your life changed to no longer be such that you would prefer death.”
She grimaced and her speech began to slow down. “If you die then the chance for that change to happen is none existent, that is why nothing is worse than death. When you are alive, there's always a chance for something to happen to make things better.”
“Yes, but the chance of the inverse is far higher. It's more likely that things will only get worse. If a king loses his kingdom, is it more likely that they will be given back the crown, or is it more likely that they will be forced into hiding, persecuted, and eventually killed.”
She stood up and looked down at me, maintaining her calm demeanor. “You said luck is relative, that means that if the majority of people in your position would desire a specific outcome, I.E. living, then you would be lucky.”
“Hm… Possibly, although I think that most people in my situation would have probably offed themselves a long time ago. Of course, I'm only assuming, and my experience with other people is limited, so there is that.”
She fell silent and I shut my mouth. I had always been blunt like that without thinking about it, but never so casually. I glanced down and bit my tongue. It was no surprise that she would look like that. Of course those words would be surprising coming from a sheltered 14-year-old girl.
As far as she was concerned, the only concept of death I had was in reference to bugs and animals. It must have come as quite a shock to her that I would be aware, much less joke, about something as dark and horrible as taking my own life.
After a long pause, she opened her mouth again. “Regardless… I think you are lucky that you are alive, and everyone else around you considers it the same. You’re lucky because–”
“Because you didn't kill me?” I interrupted. That was ultimately what this conversation was about after all. I could tell she was starting to get emotional, angry, but my blood, as well as my face, remained as cold as ice. I felt nothing, at least at that moment.
It was over a decade ago that she had held a blade to my neck, too long for the memories wounds to still be left open. “Maybe I am lucky… But the only reason I'm still here is because I kind of like having someone on my side. If I started hurting myself then there really wouldn't be anyone that cared anymore…”
She froze in place. I couldn't blame her. I was usually reasonably well-behaved, if not only because I didn't like being punished. It made sense to act how she wanted me to. There would be less pain, and as a result, my life would be more tolerable. In this instance though I doubted I would be punished. I might be reminded of how it is improper to interrupt people while speaking, but nothing more.
Etiquette was the least important thing in the metaphorical book of manners that noble women were taught. After all, if you were the strongest in the room you didn't have reason to care about it. We stood in silence as my thoughts began to run wild again
‘That wasn't true… I shouldn't have said that… I do have people on my side, I'm not entirely alone. The guards, my father when he's around… Even if no one ever tries to actually fix the issue, at least… Well, I guess if they aren't trying to fix the issue they aren't really on my side after all…’
Mara stood silent, her eyes open wide glaring at me, and her jaw clenched. Seeing her like that somehow calmed me down for some reason, bringing my mind back to the present.
“I warned you…” I whispered under my breath.