My story is almost at an end.

Tell me, intruder. Do you think mine a happy one? Or maybe you think it sad. Could it be tragic to you? Or perhaps the world is, and I simply am- with no deep attribution to be made.

I’ll have to ask your story, intruder. After all, I’ve been so generous in telling you mine.

More than you could ask after breaking into my home… wouldn’t you agree?

-

In the end, it was all worked out without Arwen there to mediate, as she knew it would.

The woman, who the Princess had learnt was named Annette, a Lontaine royal who did a bad thing for an ambiguous reason, had been transported back to Glannau and was being held in the local jail until the Princess and her retainers returned to the Kingdom. Though her father had initially wanted the pirates dead, Arwen agreed with the decision to spare them, for killing Lontaine citizens and royalty could cause more trouble than it was worth.

The rest of the crew took their ship back to Lontaine, and would hopefully never be stealing from anyone again.

The Dark Orb was transported back to The Island by the Holy Sages who took advantage of a volunteer sailor’s enthusiasm to travel with such esteemed company.

Dai had offered Arwen and her retainers a ride to Cyfoeth Port, where they would be dropped off while the Ysbrydfarer resupplied to begin their supply route to Glannau once again. A deal that her retainers quickly accepted, for it meant saving an entire day’s worth of travelling, and the Ysbrydfarer offered more comfortable sleeping arrangements than the earth.

And throughout all of it, the Princess simply rested and allowed the world to move on without her. Despite this, Arwen still couldn’t get any worthwhile sleep. She was sullen, her mood would change in an instance, she would feel guilty, intolerant, and self-conscious in one hour, and then feel numb and demotivated in another. I’ll get better when I return home, she had comforted herself. But she knew it was a lie. Her suffering would never end.

She had asked Sovereignty about her vision- whether the Dark Orb could truly predict the future, and his response, while ambiguous, was of equal parts a warning. “The Dark Orb can present approximations of a person from a certain range into the future. Those can be wrong, and altered if the present self opts to act differently than they normally would. But some fates are unavoidable, and some of the Dark Orb’s hallucinations have been written to have come true in the Church’s experience.”

“You are forgiven for trespassing on the Church’s land, Arwen Blayney,” Shielding stated as they left. “But I hope we never meet again.”

The next few nights on the Ysbrydfarer were some of the worst. Every time the Princess closed her eyes, she saw the kneeling visage of her apparent future, begging her past not to face her. She wrested with the idea of what she could become. Could she change her fate? Was she always going to end up like that? A mean part of her mind told her that was what she deserved, but the idea of turning into that woman scared her.

When they finally reached Cyfoeth Port, the crew of the Ysbrydfarer immediately set to work on stocking the vessel, while Arwen and her retainers disembarked for the last time, bidding a soft farewell to Dai. Gwyn wanted to find accommodation for the night, before setting off on Pedr’s Path the next day, but Arwen excused herself and left them to it.

She wanted to be alone on the sandy shores of the port. Her head was so filled with thoughts of her present and future, that she sought refuge in her happier memories of the past.

She sat on the sandy beach, just by the water’s lapping edge, eyes shut and enjoying the afternoon air caressing her face. She tried not to think about her own insignificance, the idea that if she were to be removed from the world, it would continue just as well without her. That she did not even know who she was inside, once the fancy titles and meaningless respect slipped away. Instead, she simply faced a bittersweet memory of the seaside vacation she had taken with Bran all those years ago. Her nightmares often twisted the happy memory into something to attack her with, but her nostalgia washed away the unpleasant ramblings of a dreaming mind and allowed her to focus on what actually happened. Herself and Bran, without a care in the world and unsuspecting of the misery to come.

She wondered if her future self, ten years from now, would ever think upon Bran, or even this moment in the now. Would she truly become that sobbing woman? Or could she change her fate and turn into someone else? Gwyn had told her the Dark Orb’s hallucinations were just that… but he was also never informed by the Sages of its precognitive abilities. Whatever Gwyn saw in his own hallucinations may also come to pass, yet neither Gwyn, nor Cai, nor Owen appeared concerned or otherwise bothered by their visions. They had simply moved on and left her in the dust. How could they all be so… perfect? So well put together? Arwen knew how. They weren’t the exception, she was. She was never good enough for this.

Arwen suddenly awoke without even being aware that she had drifted off, her surroundings now dimmed as sun’s descent filled the sky in darkness. She was surprised that she had fallen asleep, completely alone on the beach, and even more surprised her rest was without nightmares.

Cyfoeth Port was alight behind her with activity, the city’s nightlife rearing its exuberant head as a faded buzz of white noise just about reached her ears.

“I was wondering when you would wake up,” a sad voice said beside her.

Arwen jumped and turned to face a crouching man, staring deeply into the ocean next to her. He had a bald head and wore some form of overalls, marking him as a fisherman. “Who are you?” she asked him.

The man spoke lowly, as if afraid his voice would break if he spoke up. “Name’s Gareth Idle… and who are you?”

“I’m Arwen.” The Princess muttered half-heartedly. “Arwen Blayney.”

“King Blayney had a daughter?” the man asked, sounding surprised.

Just what she needed to hear after feeling insignificant the past few days.

Gareth seemed to realise the impact his question had on her. “Oh, I’m truly sorry. You could say I live under a rock, these past few years… the truth is… I’ve been very busy lately.”

Arwen gazed out towards the sea. “Doing what?”

“Searching,” the sand shifted as Gareth repositioned himself. “For my wife.”

“Searching for your wife?” Arwen met his big, sad eyes. “What are you implying?”

Gareth sighed deeply and looked up towards the sky, where the shimmering stars lay waiting for the sun to rise once again. “I lost her… a great deal of time ago. I don’t know where she is, but I fear the worst has happened since our separation. You see, she has a grave illness, and though she was stable when we last were together, our doctor warned us that she could turn at any time…”

“Have you tried,” Arwen swallowed, “the… uh… t-the graveyard?”

“I did…” the man admitted with a slow exhale. “But nothing.”

“Let me help,” Arwen offered without even thinking about her words. Damn it! She didn’t have time to go searching if they were to depart to the Kingdom by tomorrow. Another dumb decision. It was a staple of her life now.

“Would you help this old man?” Gareth gave her such a genuinely happy smile that Arwen couldn’t possibly go back on her word now. “I really appreciate it. Her name is Ava Idle- or Ava Williams, if she goes by her maiden name nowadays. Please could you ask the townsfolk at the city for me? I tried myself, but they seem not to want to talk to me…”

“I’ll try,” Arwen stood and resigned herself to her fate. “I don’t think I… I can do it… but, uh, I better get started, I guess.”

“Thank you… oh! I saw a young man, about your age, maybe a bit older, approach you whilst you were asleep. He slipped a note into your pocket.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Arwen checked her right pocket first, then her left. Sure enough, crumpled against the Light Gem was a piece of paper, which upon inspection read as followed; Hameau Inn. Meet us there. It was from one of her retainers, she assumed. She thanked the sad man, who replied in turn. “I’ll be here,” he said. “Watching the waves… just return here if you find her, please.”

Arwen then left, seeking out the inn so that she could enlist the help of her retainers in the search for this Ava woman. She briefly considered ditching the man, but she simply couldn’t bring herself to perform such a ruthless act of selfishness. It was then that Arwen realised that she… wanted to help. She wanted to find Ava for this man, who seemed so sad that it exuded from him in an invisible aura. She could at least try for the night and, if they got nowhere, apologise and move on.

Walking alone in the City of Stupor, Arwen was surprised at the sheer density of people roaming the streets. Thankfully, the darkness and their inebriation obscured the Princess from their view, so she had little chance of being recognised, though perhaps that was what Arwen would’ve wanted the most right now. Being so close to the mountainous terrain in the west, Cyfoeth Port was based up a gradual hill, meaning the cobbled roads twisted and turned in an upwards path. Each house was packed tightly together, and every single street she entered had a pub with no discernible exception. The bright candle light from the buildings, along with the tastefully decorated iron lanterns illuminating the roads, helped the Princess navigate the nostalgic but otherwise unfamiliar port city.

When she finally stumbled across Hameau Inn, Arwen was surprised to find her retainers stood outside. They had booked a room, it turned out, but forgot to account for the fact that the inn doubled as a bar, and so had to talk outside to escape the loud drunks infesting the building within.

“Arwen,” Cai greeted, almost warily. He had been receiving somewhat of a cold shoulder from the Princess of late, like Gwyn and Owen, and was hesitant to speak in case he caught her in a bad mood. “You got my note.”

“You didn’t think to wake me?”

Cai shook his head at her. “I know you’ve been sleeping poorly of late, and you looked so comfortable and happy on the sand that I couldn’t bring myself to wake you up. The beach was quiet- no one was around- so I thought it best to leave you be and write a note.”

“Look,” Arwen thought it a risky move from her so-called protectors, but decided to move on. She already knew they didn’t like her, anyways. “I need your help. I met a man called Gareth on the beach and it seems as though he has lost his wife. Can you help me find her?”

“Wait, what? Arwen?” Owen looked completely bemused. “You want us to help find a… lost wife? Now?”

Arwen shuffled her feet to stare at him. “Yes, idiot. That’s what I said.”

Owen bristled, but Gwyn intervened before he could rebuke her harsh words. “I think what Owen meant is that this is all highly irregular coming from you, Princess. Isn’t it likely the wife just… ran away from him? Maybe he was beating her around or something.”

Arwen pondered the possibility of Gwyn’s suggestion, but quickly dismissed it. The man seemed so genuine that Arwen just felt… right, helping him. She couldn’t explain it. “You think me wanting to help a citizen is irregular?” she decided to focus on the other part of Gwyn’s words. Was she so bad in their eyes that helping out another person out of her own will was so unbelievable? Of course, she was. They all had it out for her, and the worst part was she deserved it.

Gwyn held up his hands. “All I’m saying is that it’s odd, considering we’ll be leaving tomorrow morning. Do we really have time for this?”

“Fine!” Arwen snapped, throwing her hands in the air. “For fuck’s sake! I get that you all think I’m some evil bitch who only thinks of herself, but I guess that’s just who I am, then! I’ll find her myself, just go back and do whatever you were doing. I have little need of you, anyways.”

Arwen turned to walk away, but Cai called out after her. “Arwen! Wait! We’ll help.”

“Am I really that bad to you?” Arwen bid to hide the tears in her eyes. “Is my behaviour truly so selfish?”

“Yes,” Owen muttered under his breath, loud enough that Cai could hear but quiet enough that it didn’t reach the Princess.

“Shut the fuck up!” Cai hissed back at the offended archer, before appealing to Arwen’s back. “Arwen… none of us think you’re evil, or selfish… we just- I think you’ve just been failing to see the others around you until now. It’s a good thing.”

“Tell us the woman’s name, and what she looks like,” Gwyn cracked his knuckles. “We’ll all find her for you.”

-cut-

Despite Gareth’s insistence that he had checked the graveyard, Arwen thought it prudent to investigate first, just in case the man had missed her gravestone somehow.

The likelihood that she had just ran away, or maybe was in another village or town by now, Arwen thought, was high. But at least it was worth a shot.

It was still early in the night, but unfortunately dark enough that the graveyard was barely illuminated. No lampposts or spread candles were in sight, for it was considered rude to place candles or flames close by a burial site, where the light would disrupt those who had been lain to rest.

Still, it was enough that Arwen could just about make out the carvings on the tombstones, laid out uniformly in rows among a plain grassy plot of land. She read each name carefully, moving on when neither the name Ava, nor the surnames Idle or Williams appeared. As she crossed the half-way mark of the graveyard, Arwen felt her breath begin to catch as she drew closer and closer to the one tombstone she knew was nearby but didn’t know exactly where it was.

Until she suddenly read the words upon a plain slab of rock; Bran Tudor.

“There you are,” Arwen whispered. “I was wondering when next we’d meet again.”

The stone didn’t reply, nor did the body buried six feet underneath her boots, but Arwen obviously didn’t expect that to happen. Still, the silence saddened her inexplicably. Tears welled in her eyes as memories threatened to suffuse her mind. She wanted to be whisked away back to a time when life was so much simple, where the hauntings of her past and the inadequacies of her present did not torment her waking moment.

“I hope you’re not watching, Bran.” Arwen straightened her back and wiped away a stray tear from her cheek. “I think you’d be ashamed of who I am.”

And with that, the Princess moved on to the next grave.

-cut-

Owen Voyle hated talking to people, but he supposed he had to for the Princess.

But it was definitely because Cai and Gwyn had told him to.

To tell the truth, Owen didn’t quite like the Princess. Arwen had initially struck him as someone fierce and headstrong, if not annoyingly arrogant, but then she seemed to constantly victimise herself in an attempt to make everything about her. It seemed to Owen a little… insensitive.

And now this whole charade with finding some lost woman of little consequence. Owen supposed it was Arwen’s attempt at dealing with whatever emotional baggage she was carrying with a good deed or two to inflate her otherwise fragile ego. But, whatever. It’s not like Owen was doing this for free.

“Ava Idle?” Owen perked up as the woman he was talking to appeared to recognise the name. “I know of her, yes.”

Knocking on people’s doors at random was a pretty unforgiving task, if Owen said so himself. Cai was asking random passers-by in the street, while Gwyn was haunting the dozens of bars in this shithole city, and Arwen was checking the graves for some reason, so the grim task of dealing with very cross people indeed was left to Owen.

Mostly, people just didn’t answer. The few that actually did either hardly listened, or angrily told him to go away before slamming the door on his face. Thankfully, this lady before him not only seemed friendly, but also was willing to help.

Good. Better to get this over with.

“My friend is looking for her,” Owen explained to the pudgy middle-aged woman. He usually hated fat people, but the woman seemed friendly enough for now. “Could you tell me where I could find her?”

“Who is asking?” the woman seemed concerned. “I don’t want to give out her address to a complete stranger.”

“A man called Gareth apparently lost her,” Owen shrugged. “That’s all I really know.”

The woman seemed completely taken aback. “Gareth?! But that’s… well… okay, then. I suppose she’d want to hear about this. Here…”

Owen left satisfied, his next stop in mind. He very momentarily considered reuniting with Cai and Gwyn, or even the Princess, but decided to just get this Ava woman to tag along with him. He couldn’t wait to see their faces after finding her so quickly.

Owen stopped. It almost seemed too easy. If he could achieve success in a little under two hours, then just how hard was this Gareth character looking? Obviously, the stranger didn’t care as much about his wife as Arwen was led to believe…

Once at Ava Idle’s address in the eastern outskirts of the port city, Owen knocked on her door and took a step back. Ava owned a very pretty house indeed, with a little side garden full of plants and a gentle, warm candlelight spilling from properly paned windows. Owen wouldn’t mind settling down in a house like this, one day. When the door opened a few seconds later, Owen’s eyes widened.

Ava Idle was not what he expected. Instead of a young, or middle-aged lady greeting him at her house, instead Ava looked to be in her forties, which was positively ancient in this day and age. “May I help you?”

“Are you Ava?” Owen half expected her to shake her head and slam the door. Maybe that other woman had intentionally given him a wrong address, or perhaps he was misremembering?

The woman nodded so slowly; it was as if she was scared of her grey hair crumbling from atop her head. “I am, yes.”

Owen stumbled for a moment, temporarily taken aback. “Well… uh… yeah. Uh… I’ve been looking for you on behalf on someone called Gareth.”

“Gareth?” Ava’s worn face scrunched up in confusion. “What do you mean, Gareth?”

“Your husband, Gareth Idle,” Owen explained. “He sent us to find you.”

To his growing confusion, Ava laughed humourlessly. “I’m afraid that’s impossible. I’d be stunned if Gareth managed to find me here.”

Owen supressed a sigh. “Look, can I just take you to my friends so we can get you reunited with him?”

“At this time of night?” Ava scowled in suspicion. “This is extremely fishy… who are you?”

If Owen told her she’d be meeting the Princess of Cyfoeth, he doubted she would take him seriously. So, he instead shrugged. “Gareth’s waiting on the beach. It would be in poor taste to keep him waiting.”

“Fine,” Ava finally complied and gave in. “Wait here while I get my keys. This better not be some sort of sick joke, or else I’ll be calling on the authorities for you.”

“Fucks sake,” Owen muttered under his breath as she momentarily darted into her home. Why did he join the military, practise hours on end, day by day with a bow until he was noticed by someone high up, and get a gig with the Princess of Cyfoeth, only to find himself doing charity work for a girl he didn’t even like?

He never thought he’d ever say it, but he’d take crazy hallucination-making pirates and creepy humanoid darkness any day over this monotony.

People sucked.