Ahhhh I wanted to get a bit development done in this chapter. I am uncertain of whether or not I will come out all right, so only time will tell. See you all at the end!

Chapter 3

A yawn escapes me as we ride with the Nohrian forces towards the border. The war has officially begun and it was time to act. I wish it wasn't. Though, I'd be even more pissed if I were forced to walk instead of ride this beautiful gray dappled mare from the stables. Still pissed. If it wasn't for Garon ordering us to the border at the crack of dawn, I'm about one-hundred-percent certain that I would've been sleeping in 'til noon. Apparently, that wasn't a practice in medieval capitalist countries that are in the middle of economic depressions. Go figure.

To my right rides Peri on her brown mare, to my left is Lazward on a borrowed stallion, and up ahead is Marx. The woman lets out a sigh, her left hand playing with her sword's hilt. Lazward's head snaps up as he shakes out of his reverie. He gives the cavalier a smile, saying, "What has your pretty head in distress, Peri?"

She gives him a bored stare in return, evidently used to such treatment from the flirt. "I just want to stab something." You can stab me. Maybe then I can sleep. "I can't wait to pulverize, eviscerate, ruin and impale!" At that, I can't help but wonder what really is at stake here. Why are we fighting the Hoshidans? From what Marx said, it's because of economic issues. But is that really the case? It's a pointless fight I think.

And so, I ask: "What's so bad about the Hoshidans, Peri?"

"They're mean, that's what! They go around fighting us and expect us not to fight back? Horse dung! They should just give up!" I frown, fists tightening around the mare's reigns. Such a disregard for human life. Even if they are on the opposing side, it is pitiful to think that someone could stoop so low. I find myself almost hating the retainer. So bloodthirsty. So wrong. And whatever her reasons are, they're probably not great. From what I know, she's of the nobility, and thus not effected as much as peasants are by the war.

"Peri…That's hardly any reason at all to want to take a life. Think of it from their point of view. You're trying to invade their country. They're only retaliating. It's a cruel cycle, and I know admitting it is heresy, but it's the truth of the matter." Peri looks ready to pounce, and I was unsure of how it would play out in the middle of a bunch of marching soldiers and horses that were easily spooked. Thankfully, Marx coming to a stop in front of us drew her attention.

"We'll make camp here. Peri, I'd like you to go around and spread the word to the rest of the troops," the prince says. She looks to me and appears to growl before yanking her horse's reigns to steer the steed away from the front. I can't help glaring angrily down at my hands. Such insolence.

Maybe I shouldn't have been so brutally honest. There's no doubt Marx and Lazward caught what I said, and now Peri is mad at me. I find it hard to see things from her point of view, and even so, it'd do nothing to assuage my annoyance. I was forced into this, after all. I have a right to hate the war. I have a right to my anger.

Hearing a low hum, my gaze snaps to Lazward. The retainer is watching me solemnly, though there's the slightest hint of a sad smile upon his face. I only blink in response and he looks away. Shrugging, I assume that's the end of it. I can't help but wonder what was going through his mind, though it won't kill me. Besides, I need to focus on setting up camp with the others, so I decide to steer the mare away from him. However, his voice stops me this time.

"You remind me of someone I used to know." I look to him once more. From the small laugh he gives, I can infer that I look just about as confused as I feel. "Her opinions got the best of her in the end…No matter how ideal-driven she was, or how good her morals were, it led to her demise." I wonder who it was. "She let her temper get the best of her, too."

"At least I'm doing the right thing here. War is never the answer." I've been told countless times that war is bad – and it is! Even without war, the world was messed up at home! Why can't there just be peace? Am I being too naïve here? Is the idea of peace so childish? Why can't the rest of them realize?

"We're all well aware that war isn't the answer. We keep fighting because…we've no choice. Either we're too proud, too loyal, or the king has us under his thumb," Lazward says, gesturing with his head toward where Marx now stood, surrounded by messengers. "Lord Xander gave me purpose. He only wishes for Nohr to recover. And for that to happen, we need to win. His father needs to be satisfied. His family and people deserve justice for all they've suffered."

I shake my head, calmer than I had been before, but quickly losing my cool once more. "I learned as much from him myself. But can't he see…that this sort of justice is an illusion? What of the justice that the Hoshidans deserve?"

Lazward frowns now – however uncharacteristic it may seem to others, I find it almost fitting for all he's been through. "I know someone who lost a father because he believed that people could be saved. Even the enemy. She was just like him. Right up to her end. In this world, it's better to think of them as less than human. Because trusting the Hoshidans will be your greatest mistake."

This wasn't…Inigo. It can't be. He would never think like this! It goes against his character, doesn't it? Unless, he's from the doomed timeline.

"But—"

"Just take it into consideration. Don't hesitate to fight the Hoshidans when the time for it comes. If you don't, it won't end pretty."

"All right…" I'll give up for now, but it doesn't mean I will abide by his wishes in the future.

As I'd entered the now-set up camp after putting the mare with the rest of the horses, I catch sight of everyone's favorite prince. I understand that he explained the situation with Nohr and Hoshido, but I still can't make eye contact. I look away as quickly as I'd first noticed him, determined to keep my sights forwards in an attempt to become invisible. Unfortunately, it does not play out that way, and I watch the prince break away from his messengers out of the corner of my eye.

I stifle a sigh of annoyance, hoping that, perhaps, it wasn't me Marx was coming over to talk to. It shouldn't be – even if he's my glorified babysitter, I should just be another character in the background of the story that is his life. I'm a sidequest NPC, at least. Keep that one bitch from getting hurt to get one million gold pieces…

My hopes are dashed when I hear an annoyed "Ahem" behind me. I pretend I don't hear it, and continue until a hand on my shoulder whips me around. Why can't I just be left alone in my misery?

"Is there something you want, Prince?" I deadpan, giving the most bored look I can as I see his arms fold across his breastplate. So my suspicions were correct. You know, I wouldn't have minded anyone else, like Lazward again. He'd get away with it because he's not an asshole and kind of cute.

"Ignoring my existence won't make things any easy for you here. What if I report that you're some fake and my father has you killed?" Fake? My mouth twists into a scowl at those words. If only to mask the fear building inside my chest.

"But I'm not some fake. For instance, I can tell you that if you don't leave me alone, I will be forced to maim you, prince or not."

Vermillion eyes narrow in annoyance. I was getting to him. Good. "Behavior like this is uncouth. Even I don't need to be able to see into the future to know that continuing to act this way will harm you."

I scoff, prompting him to continue. "If you don't show a little respect I will have no choice."

"What, you're going to blackmail me with something that doesn't even qualify as blackmail? How pathetic. If you want my respect, you'll respect that I don't want to be here and that I want to be alone. Is it too much to ask?" How horrible! Intolerable, insufferable…How dare he use his suspicions against me! I have a goddamn right! I can't believe I ever sympathized with this jerk!

"You feign anger when you lie." I can't suppress the low laugh that bubbles in my throat, at my idiocy and how perceptive he was. How will he take that one, I wonder? Fear? Genuine laughter? Anger?

"Oh, do I? I wouldn't know. Because I'm not lying. I know what's going to happen." My voice becomes calmer – he can't base his assumptions off of the tone of my voice. Only fools do that.

"I don't believe you. Do what you're told and show a little respect. We're all fighting a war here."

"No, Xander, this is your war. I wanted no part of it."

A wave of nausea overcomes me, interrupting my attempt at fleeing while I still could, and I'm brought to my knees. What was that? It hits me again, my vision becomes spotty, and it eventually burns away, leaving only a flash of pictures tinged in blue.

Our camp becomes overrun with soldiers. A lone swordsman watches a woman approach him, striking out just before the arrow embeds itself between her shoulder blades. His arms are shaky as she screams and falls to the ground. He'd made his first kill. The woman is then in a man's arms as he sobs. In the carnage lies a discarded identification tag.

I'm brought back to reality when a hand is pressed against my forehead. What the hell was that? "Wh-What…?" I choke out, spotting a discarded gauntlet on the grass of the clearing and several soldiers stopping to watch. The hand belongs to that annoying prince.

"You were shaking and muttering….things that made no sense. And you're burning up—You need to get to the healer's imme—" I stand, shoving his hand away with my regained strength. This is a show for his soldiers. I know it. It's an act. Regardless, I don't want anything to do with him. I don't want anything to do with anyone.

"Don't touch me! Everyone else may buy your fake concern, but I don't. Nothing you do can make me want to be here, or be your King's little prophet!" I'm overreacting. I'm overreacting. No, no I'm not! I have this right. I have a right to be mad. I have…to go. I need to be alone. He can't be concerned for me. It's just some manipulative ploy. "Is there anything else His Royal Highness wants me to do?"

He, too, stands, any sign of that false concern gone. Jaw set with annoyance and eyes hardened with anger, Marx says, "Maybe fighting instead of remaining with the healers for the duration of your time here will get you to understand just what we're going through, instead of acting inconsiderate and spoiled. I'm sure my father would understand. Go to the armory." He swiftly turns and stalks back across the camp to his messengers. Hmph. As if I care.

I make as if to head to the armory, but with my lack of knowledge regarding where it is combined with the eyes of the soldiers staring at me, I find myself becoming flustered, confused and irrevocably embarrassed. That was…quite the scene, wasn't it? Whatever. Serves him right.

Thankfully, a woman steps forward, a sympathetic smile on her face as she says, "Let's get you out of here, dear. I know where the armory is." I don't know what it is, but there's something familiar about her blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She's too old to have been anyone I'd know. Still, I can't help but abide by her wishes.

"Thank you…" I utter, turning back to glare at those that still watched me incredulously. "That had been horrid of me, hadn't it?"

"Not all of us want to be here…" She sighs as we reach the tent that had only been a few feet away, holding the flap open. "What's your name?"

"Um…I'm Arya."

"Well, I suppose that makes sense. Looks to me like you had one of those visions you're supposed to as that prophet that King Garon found," she murmurs, inspecting some bows made of polished white wood. "My name is Cantabile."

"Was it that obvious?" Visions? No, I lied about that. Maybe I just subconsciously acted that way to save my skin. It makes complete sense.

"Yeah. What'd you see?"

"Er, I'm not sure…I was too annoyed at a certain someone to really focus." Or they'd simply been hallucinations. They'd made no sense whatsoever – and whatever happened in them seemed so unnecessary.

Her eyes narrow, but the smile is back on her face in a second, and I dismiss it as my imagination. "Who could focus, huh? I just hope it wasn't something too important." She grabs a bow make of dark wood, and hands it to me along with a quiver made of the fur of some animal. "Can you use a bow?"

"I haven't fought before now…but I can to some extent." Though, that was mostly during the summer when I did archery at camp. I'm not too sure how good I'd be in battle – or if I'm strong enough to even pull the string back.

"Hey, as long as you can use a weapon to some degree, you'll be fine. Just hang back in battle. It's cruel of the prince to make you fight; cruel of the king to make the rest of us…" I take the quiver, swinging it over my right shoulder and doing the same with the bow. Hopefully, we wouldn't be attacked today. I don't think I'd survive such a thing.

I must've spoken too soon, because shouts could be heard from outside. An enemy attack. Bloody perfect timing, universe! Cantabile gives me an anxious look and the both of us run from the tent.

We were at the border, but we hadn't expected an enemy attack so soon – especially not from the famed Hoshidan Sky Knights, commonly known as the Red Lotus.

"Cantabile…What do we do?"

She becomes serious, eyes flickering to the outskirts of camp. "You need to run. Get to the trees. I'll be right behind you. Garon's prophet must survive." I take off with a nod, not even considering what might befall her. I just needed to get out of here before things turned even sourer than they already were.

Shouts – in a language I don't recognize – sound from behind. Panicked, I dive behind a bush with my new bow drawn ever so slightly. This would be simple…Hopefully. I just pull back and release! And aim…among other things. But it's simple! I'll be fine!

There's a rustle in the bushes, and a brunette swordsman runs by. He's not Ryouma – his hair is too short. And he's too lean, there's hardly muscle there. But it must be enough, because he hasn't died yet. At that exact moment, Cantabile makes herself known, running over to the bush. The swordsman spots her and lets out a yelp of surprise before charging her. Her sword is drawn, and her strikes are quick, rendering the swordsman nearly unable to do anything more than defend. She has the upper hand until her weapon is knocked from her hand. The swordsman brings a shaky arm up to finish it as Cantabile backs away.

I scramble for my bow, I need to strike that man down or she will die. My hands fumble with an arrow as I try my best to nock it. I tumble out of the bushes, landing awkwardly on my knees. The bow falls from my grasp and I find myself reaching forward as quickly as I can. It's back in my hands and I fire the arrow without thinking – and it definitely doesn't go as planned.

"Cantabile!" Instead of my target, the arrow hits her, just as the man lands a slash across her chest, and she screeches in pain. I pull the arrow from her back, only for it to allow a stream of blood and another cry from the woman. I probably shouldn't have done that – you're supposed to break the shaft off and remove the arrowhead separately, aren't you? In the heat of the moment it hadn't even occurred to me. "Oh my god….Oh my god—I'm so—"

"Don't blame yourself…it was destined. I saw it myself." I had no time to comprehend her statement.

The swordsman recovers from his stupor as Cantabile falls forwards, landing on the blade end of his sword. He stumbles back, shocked, before running off. I, too, step back. I've seen this. This is the event that flashed before my eyes – and Cantabile was the woman that died because of my foolishness. It's my fault she's dead.

I've nothing more to do than run. From the horrors I'd committed. No one must know. No one must ever know what happened.

The camp is clear by the time I come running in, hands covered in blood. The battle has long since ended – it'd been a brief one. The lack of wreckage makes it hard to believe there was even a fight at all. But that wasn't important – what was important was that I wash my hands…and not think about it. Just don't think about it.

A man comes running towards me. It was him – the one who'd held Cantabile's body….as he…as he sobbed.

"You! You were with my fiancée!" I wince, not wanting to make contact. "Where is she?"

My eyes don't leave where my hands clutch the bow she gave me tightly. I only point in the direction from whence I came. The man is too relieved to question my reluctant answer. And I would've been fine with that, had I not have heard his screams from where I stood.

This…is my fault. No. No, it isn't. It's the war that did this. It's that Hoshidan that attacked her. The Hoshidans did this, and they'd pay. They made me do this…Lazward was right. When you think of them as less than human, it's so simple. Even if it makes you a monster yourself, it becomes so much easier to do what must be done.

As much as I hate it, Marx, too, had been right. The only way to ensure the safety of Nohr's people was to end the Hoshidans before they could become more of a threat.

My feet drag as I try to find my tent, until I realize that I had never been assigned one. That led me to only one destination which was, unfortunately, wherever Marx was. But I was exactly ecstatic about talking to him after what had happened before, so I settled for Lazward instead. He was speaking to some woman, though he didn't appear to be flirting with her – for once.

"…should help with any aches or pains Prince Xander has." I catch only the last bit of what the tall, dark haired woman says.

"I'll keep that in mind, Autumn. Lord Xander took quite the beating from that Hoshidan princess…I almost pity him. It must've been embarrassing. That woman is short, but she's fierce…."

"Now, now, don't talk about the prince when he's not around. That isn't right. I was only here to do my job as a healer—"

"And perhaps join me for tea one of these—"

"Unless you want to find some deadly nightshade slipped into your tea, I suggest you leave it at that, darling," Autumn says, seeming to float as she walks away.

As soon as she's gone, I approach Lazward with an inquiry.

"Who was that…?"

He sighs as she vanishes from sight before turning to me. "Autumn. The head court healer. She's tagging along with us as per the King's orders. Charming, is she not? She's quite the way with traditional healing arts. And she looks fantastic in black…" He's back to staring in her direction again.

"I see…" With a sigh of my own, I change the subject. "Um, do you have…any idea where my tent is, by…any chance?" When he looks to me again, he does not answer my statement. He just stares at my hands, which are caked with dry blood.

"Are you going to get cleaned up?"

"I was planning to…after I got to my tent…"

"You're with Peri. Is something wrong…?"

I only stare at him in silence, certain that my eyes mirror something he, too, felt once oh so long ago. After a second I shake my head, not wishing to talk about it. No one needs to know that my friendly fire is the reason a comrade is dead.

Lazward tuts, giving his trademark charming grin. "Oh, come on. Where's that smile? We're alive to fight another day. Don't dwell on the battle. Just look forward to what happens next."

I shake my head again. "I just need to go lay down. But thanks for trying Lazward." With that, I shuffle away.

And done! I'm sorry this is so late! But I really have nothing to say in this end note, so leave a review, fav or follow if you enjoyed!