Unable to fully control my body, I let my small fingers wander over the soft sheets wrapped around me. The bedding feels unlike anything I'd ever known. To my right, an elderly woman in a black and white outfit sat humming a quiet tune. Judging by the crest embroidered into the nearby curtain, I suppose she's a maid of the house. She's probably here to watch over me, waiting on my every need, even as a baby.
She must think I'm asleep. Her humming was soft, a melody that clashed with the nightmare I'd just escaped. I found myself almost hypnotized by the calm, struggling to focus enough to see her face.
I attempt to get a better look at the woman.
The cradle creaks gently as I shift. My arms hardly respond, my muscles feel unnaturally damp and heavy. The sensation is maddening. I try to lift my head, but it's like pushing a boulder up a hill.
The woman's humming falters for a moment. She leans forward and peers down at me, a gentle smile worn into her face by years of repetition. "Oh my," she whispers, her voice gentle.
"Awake so soon, Master Lior?"
Lior. That's who I am now, it seems.
Her fingers, soft and wrinkled, reach down and brush my forehead. I flinch lightly. She doesn't notice. Or at least pretends not to.
Her touch lingers for a moment, then she pulls away and begins adjusting the blankets around me, humming once more. The song is unfamiliar, perhaps a nursery rhyme.
Lior
I let the name rest in my head.
Lior, Lior, Lior.
I repeat it again and again, like a swordsman swinging a new blade, testing the grip, the weight, the balance. Hoping repetition will make it fit.
It doesn't. Not yet.
Agate is dead. I know that. But I can't stop reaching for the name I once used.
The woman, my caretaker, apparently. Starts speaking again, mostly to herself.
"The young Lord seems to have stopped crying. The Lord had to move you to the far end of the manor, you know. You wailed for nearly a week straight."
She chuckles softly.
"But look at you now. Not even a peep. It's like you're an entirely different child."
Little does she know.
I would laugh if I could.
After finishing with the blankets and checking the cradle, the maid leaned in close. She gently tapped a finger to the tip of my nose.
"I'm going to fetch the Missus now, young lord," she whispered, her voice soft. "Don't start crying while I'm gone, alright?"
Silence followed. Her humming, which had once filled the large room, was gone.
With nothing to distract me, I was left alone with my thoughts. Forced to consider what had happened, what was happening.
I've been given a second chance at life. By whom, I don't know. Was it the princess? Perhaps one of the divine? That moment when the princess awakened her Will, when the golden light surged outward and enveloped me, was the last I remember. The warmth it carried didn't burn like fire, nor did it feel like the burn of healing magic. It was.... peaceful.
If it was her… do I owe her something?
Was I saved to protect her again? To continue the resistance? To seek revenge?
Do I even want that?
Yes, I still hate Volind. I hate what its armies did to Isen, what they did to my parents, to the king, to everything I knew. But there's something else now, a new feeling, a desire. To exist without fighting for my survival at every turn.
I tried to sigh, but what came out was just a wheeze. This is torture. I've been a baby for less than an hour, and I already miss the battlefield.
Not the blood or the killing, but being able to move my body the way I want.
No. Rather, it's not the battlefield I miss. It's having control.
As thoughts of the battlefield came rushing back, so too did the princess's final words to me.
"I'm sorry, Agate."
Sorry for what?
Letting me die?, Not being able to save anyone? Being the last to survive?
We barely spoke. She was a symbol I died for, not a comrade. I didn't protect her out of loyalty. I didn't even know her.
Yet she knew my name.
Maybe it was pity, yeah, sure.
She awoke a will out of pity and reincarnated me.
That's stupid.
I tried to sigh again, just another wheezing grunt.
Whatever the reason, I've been given a second chance. And I'm going to use it.
This time, I'll do what I want. I'll abuse every comfort this damned house offers. I'll...
The door creaked open.
The maid returned, followed by a tall woman, mid to late thirties, maybe. Her hair was pure white, and so too was her skin. Her eyes are a deep blue.
She looked around the room, then spoke.
"How is he, Malyna? Has his fever calmed?"
The maid Malyna nodded and smiled.
"Yes, Missus. He seems much better now. Not a peep out of him since he woke."
The tall woman spoke again, "Thank you for your help, Malyna. You've taken care of all the children after they were born. You've done more for the family than we could ever repay."
The maid bowed as deeply as her old bones allowed.
"No, no, Missus. I didn't do much. In fact, I wasn't sure he'd make it through the night."
"No matter. You've done more than we could ask for. Please, go get yourself some rest, Malyna."
With that, the maid rose from her bow.
"Yes, thank you, ma'am."
The maid left quietly, her footsteps following down the hall. The tall lady stepped closer to my crib, her features coming into focus with each step. She radiated nobility, an aura so commanding that it dwarfed even the presence the princess once carried. No one from Isen had ever moved through the world with such authority.
Her gaze fixed on me, and I felt, for the first time since waking, a weight heavier than my infant limbs settle in my chest.
She spoke, her voice now betraying the authority she'd carried moments before."Did you miss Mommy, Lior?" The words were gratingly pleasant. Without hesitation, she reached into the crib and scooped me up, cradling me against her chest." I missed you. Mommy was so worried about you, Lior," she cooed, poking at my cheek with an exaggerated affection.
This woman. How can she put off such an intimidating aura yet still be so… doting?
It's unbearable. I have to get out of here. She's going to smother me to death...
She lifts me up and looks me in the eyes
"Is my lior hungry?"
No. Absolutely not.
I try to make a noise in protest, "Agh… erg."
"Oh, it seems so."
NO, I'M NOT HUNGRY