Ballad Of The Forgotten: Chapter 3: Part 3:

It was raining.

He'd started walking, well, just strut about in his new crutches. She'd told him sternly to keep indoors because he wasn't ready yet to go outside. Instead, he was to get up from his bed, try walking, and then fall back on his bed when he got too tired.

He'd not spoken to her in two weeks. 

Much as she reassured him that it was alright, he couldn't help but feel that small trickle of shame whenever he saw her. Here she was, breaking her back to bring him to life and what does he do? He forces himself onto her.

The circumstances of that kiss are clear to him as well, but he was used to thinking like a man, not a little boy. He'd led, well almost tried to lead a rebellion against his brother, failed miserably, and almost died. There was some dignity in his foolishness because royal intrigue can become almost invisible to a person. 

But this one kiss tore through his dignity like a bear. He didn't understand her choice to forgive him, instead of simply throwing him out to fend for himself.

Perhaps he'd never know how to forgive himself.

She'd gone for the day. She had gone to a village to gather some herbs and medicine, as well as get a cart and some weapons. It was sunny when she left, but after a few hours, it started pouring mercilessly. He watched the rain anxiously, praying for her to come back safely.

It was quite noisy outside. The rain had a constant shh to it, and he heard its ferocity as it stormed down on the corrugated roof of the barn. He would shift now and then, uneasily expecting the roof to fall on him.

And now it had stopped, he heard the world come alive as he'd never heard it before. 

The ceaseless crescendo of frogs croaking ceaselessly. The constant tip-tip-tip of water droplets falling from twigs and branches. Some distant bird calling within the trees, or a dog barking at something, followed by its companions. The sighs of tired, water-bearing leaves as they moved in an occasional wind, or whenever they would get shaken by the movements of equally tired tree dwellers.

He'd never been allowed outside when it rained. To him, the rain was a sign of romance. He'd grown up reading poetry and romance, along with politics, psychology, and other subjects befitting a ruler of a kingdom.

Were there no wars? Well, their forefathers fought, but for his generation, the royalty was meant to preserve the wealth and economy of their subjects, not fight. A hundred years from his birth, his grandfathers had banned wars and the different kingdoms had agreed unanimously. There were no armies in any kingdom, save for people who volunteered to police the people and protect the princes and kingdoms. The people mostly didn't need much protection, because they were all capable of protecting themselves. His grandfather had also laid down a rule making it compulsory for everyone to learn self-defense, as well as mental discipline.

Now and then, a person would arise, crying revolt, and just like him, they would be silenced.

But then wasn't he a victim of circumstance and intrigue? He had been backstabbed in every sense of the word, and what's worse, his brother was quite unaware of the venom and malice that surrounded him. He was miles away, while his brother was eating and drinking with his enemies. 

Looking outside, half covered with his quilt to stop the mosquitoes from biting him, he made up his mind to go back to his kingdom.

Maybe that would be enough to redeem his mistakes.

He got tired of waiting for her, and eventually fell asleep. The thin, weathered lanky piece of cloth covering him provided him with just the right amount of warmth and comfort as he lay in his hard, unsympathetic bed. He could lay on his side a little these days.

After a while, he felt a tapping on his back, and drowsy, he turned back to see her. Her hair was wet and she was dressed in the clothes she wore around him. 

"Come. Let's go outside." He complied. 

She put her arm around him, staying on the side of his good leg. As usual, he shrank from her, trying to support himself, refusing to rely on her too much.

The ground was slushy and slippery outside and he was scared of falling directly on his face. After all, bathing him was a laborious, tedious process and he didn't quite like the idea of her working after a long day of work. With her arm around him, he doubted he'd fall, but still, he was cautious.

The sky was overcast and the world was still wet when they stepped outside. She took him to a log that was cut in half, the flat part placed upwards, the circular part deeply embedded into the ground. He noticed that the edges were smoothed and rounded.

They sat down on that log and after a bit of fidgeting and rearranging he was finally comfortable. He breathed in the air, closing his eyes to take the different smells deeply. He had missed everything so much.

"I have news."

He turned to her expectantly.

"The nobles who conspired against you were executed this afternoon." His eyes widened.

"What are you saying?"

"It's true. Your brother is looking for you."

His heart was beating fast. He looked down, unable to believe what was told to him. He'd been worried sick about his brother. But to think that he had not only understood the conspiracy but also ended it as effectively as he could.

He was bewildered at the efficacy of his brother and the truth and wisdom behind his father's wishes. As he calmed down, his mind was made up. He had to know about everything.

"I need to go back." He told her quietly.

She looked at him, searching his face for a while. Then she nodded.