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Some days were better than others. Rishe would keep herself busy in any way she could. She would help her maids clean the villa, tend to her garden, practice her swordsmanship, work on her alchemy, help Arnold with his paperwork, create new remedies, anything at all that would keep her hands busy and mind focused on anything other than her own thoughts. And the truth was, she had no idea she was doing it.
But then there were the moments where there was nothing but the still, all-encompassing silence. Where there was nothing she could do, her hands still, and only the thoughts in her mind to keep her company. She would try to find something, anything to fill the void, to silence the painful thoughts and memories that came with death and all that was cruel. Sometimes she would be successful, able to read a book or perhaps paint something mundane if she so felt the inspiration. But then there were the times she was frozen. Unable to move, eyes clouded over as everything she suppressed would repeat through her mind.
“You will get your meals when you earn them. As the future crown princess of this land, we expect great things from you Rishe. Don’t make us regret keeping you.” Her mother’s voice echoed from her childhood. It was the first time she had ever gotten lower than an A on a test.
“You are worthless without your title, never forget that.” That was when she asked why she needed to marry Dietrich.
“You are a disgrace to us.” That was the last thing her mother said to her in her first life.
But that wasn’t true, Rishe reminded herself. She had lived plenty of lives full of so many joys and accomplishments without an heir. Yet the words still echoed.
Rishe didn’t understand why the words had such an effect on her, they were only words. Her parents had never once raised a hand against her, not like Arnold’s mother and father who had attempted to kill him or sent him out to die on the bloodied fields of war.
My life has had hardly any hardships, she thought bitterly, there is no need for me to be sulking like this!
Yet Rishe couldn’t bring herself to move from her desk. Images of bloodied battlefields she had witnessed as a medic echoing in her mind. The pained cries of the soldiers before they went silent in death.
But they weren’t dead, not anymore at least. There was no war. Not yet.
Flashes of her comrades faces in her sixth life, Joel’s face, run through with Arnold’s blackened blade sharpened Rishe’s breath. Her heart raced at a worrying pace. The feeling of his sword penetrating her heart, puncturing her lungs as it was pulled out.
The pain was excruciating. But if she had to compare it to being burned alive, watching as her comrades encompassed in the flames beside her, Raul screaming her name with desperation as the smoke filled her lungs for a second time; it wasn’t nearly as bad. The sword was far quicker and less painful than the prolonged death from asphyxiation; less painful than the feeling of her skin being charred and the sharp prickling at the back of her throat with nothing to end it but the hopes you would soon pass out or find peace in death.
Sometimes, when she was in that state, Arnold would enter their shared bedroom and Rishe would run out without a word. The thought of looking into his eyes, which often filled her with absolute joy, instead filled her with a mix of horror and dread.
Once, Arnold had run after her, obviously concerned about her well-being. He had quickly learned to let her be when she was in this state when she had begun crying and begging him to spare her. Her eyes had been clouded over, and all she could see was Emperor Arnold Hein with his bloodied sword standing above her and her fallen comrades—but they weren’t even dead anymore! They didn’t speak for a week after that episode, and even then, neither of them had dared to broach the topic.
Rishe knew there was something wrong with her, but she didn’t know how to fix it. What was there to fix?
Arnold loved her. All of her friends and allies were at her side, alive and well. She was free to do as she pleased, even as crown princess. She was safe, protected, and happily married. So why was she still like this? Why was her mind still fragmented and broken when she had glued back together each individual piece of that stupid mirror? Why could she still see the cracks in her work when she needed to be perfect?!
The silence was an inevitable void. It didn’t matter what she did to avoid it, in the end it, and her memories, would be the only constant in each life. No one would remember her after she died and everything would start over again and again. So did it really matter what she did?
Everything would soon be erased, so what was the point of going on the way she always had? What was the point of going on? She had always died at another’s hand, if she died from her own, would it all end?
“Rishe, put down the knife.” A sharp voice commanded darkly, cutting through the void.
Rishe’s head shot up suddenly, dropping the dagger she hadn’t even realized she had been holding.Arnold was at her side in an instant, throwing the blade across the room so she couldn’t attempt to reach for it again.
“What were you thinking?!” Arnold growled, his glacial eyes darkened like a storm.
“Huh?” Rishe said eloquently. She barely remembered where she was let alone what she was doing to garner this response.
“Rishe?” Arnold asked, his voice softening slightly into confusion.
Rishe blinked slowly, coming back to reality, piece by piece, instead of the graveyard she had so often visited when she had been a medic.
“Arnold?” Rishe murmured softly. Is he here to kill me again? Maybe this one will be swift, just like the last…
“Can I touch you?” He asked, kneeling in front of where she sat at her desk.
Rishe nodded, making her brain dizzy as everything continued to spin through the hazy cloud that trapped her thoughts so fully.
She was only partially aware of the feeling of something curling around both of her hands, tugging at them slightly. The brush of something soft against her knuckles. The small circles rubbed against the back of her hand as if attempting to bring her out of her trance. But she had learned long ago there was nothing to do for her fractured mind than let it all play out.
Rishe didn’t know how long it took until she was settled back into her body. It could have been minutes or hours, time always got away from her when she was like this. She hated it. But everytime she fought the mist, it only came back with a vengeance.
“-dore informed me that the people of the slums have decreased exponentially from your newest business venture that ensured them jobs. You have many admirers, though that’s only to be expected,” Arnold’s voice filtered back into her mind.
Rishe blinked down at him, then down to their clasped hands in her lap, Arnold still kneeled in front of her as if this were entirely natural.
“Your Highness?”
Arnold paused, tilting his head so he could get a better view of her eyes.
“How are you feeling?” He asked, studying her gaze as if to ensure the cloud that veiled her mind had finally passed.
“I-I don’t know, fine?” Rishe mumbled, the world was still spinning slightly. If she needed to stand, though, she would probably be fine on her own.
Arnold frowned, brows furrowing in some complicated expression Rishe couldn’t name.
“You tried to kill yourself.”
Rishe froze, suddenly very aware of Arnold’s hands wrapped around her own.
“I don’t remember that,” Rishe mumbled, eyes wide in horror.
“I suppose that makes sense. You didn’t appear to be in your right mind. But that’s besides the point.”
“Pardon?”
“Rishe,” Arnold said, a silent command in voice, “I would like you to abandon all of your weapons for the next few weeks.”
“What?!”
Rishe tried to take her hands back, but Arnold’s hold only tightened, keeping them hostage.
“I’m not saying this to be cruel or take away your freedom, but I refuse to let you harm yourself. I know that your mind wasn’t fully present and yet that to me is an even larger reason to leave them to me for the foreseeable future,” Arnold reasoned.
“But-”
“What if this happens again and I am not there to stop you,” Arnold interjected, his eyes hardset with an iron resolve. “It would ease my mind to know that there is no weapon that would be able to cause you injury when this occurs once more.”
The surety of his statement struck Rishe, “When this occurs”, not if, but when. Such a strike felt unfair, but Rishe knew he was right.
Her cheeks flushed as she turned her head away in shame. What a disgrace she was. She was a broken crown princess, hardly fit to wear the crown. Her mother would think her as nothing more than a stain to the family name…
“Rishe, don’t go back there. Stay with me.” Arnold’s steady voice kept her grounded, one of his hands released her own, now cupping her cheek, guiding her so was facing him once more.
“I’m sorry, Your Highness,” Rishe whispered, voice breaking slightly.
“Why are you apologizing?” Arnold asked.
“I’m nothing more than a burden to you. I should have told you that I was broken before you-”
“Don’t. Say that.” Arnold hissed, eyes flashing.
Rishe bit her tongue. She did it again, she upset him.
“You are not broken, Rishe. You just need time.”
“Time? Time for what?”
“To recover. There’s only so much a mind can handle on its own. You aren’t alone anymore Rishe.”
Of course she wasn’t alone in the physical sense, but in everything else she was. What wouldn’t she give for someone to remember her from before? To rekindle the same relationship she had with all of her teachers and comrades. But that could never be.
Instead, Rishe gave Arnold a polite smile—knowing that he would see through it in an instant—and nodded.
“Of course, Your Highness. Thank you for staying with me despite your duties.” Rishe said gently as if she were addressing any other socialite.
Arnold’s frown deepened, but he took it as the end of the conversation. Slowly rising to his feet, he gently pulled her up with him, wrapping his free arm around her waist to steady her shaking legs.
“You need rest.” Arnold stated, leading her to their bed. She was still dressed in her day clothes, but she could hardly muster the strength to care, not when her limbs still felt shaky and new.
“Okay,” Rishe agreed easily, allowing Arnold to tuck her in. She watched as he searched around their room, finding any and all weapons she had hidden—even the one beneath her pillow—and hiding them away in a locked trunk that even she was unable to break into. She didn’t even fight back.
Once Arnold was certain that the room was free of any immediate weapons, he joined her in bed, scooping her up so she was pressed against his chest. “You’re not alone anymore, I promise.” He whispered against her ear.
It was a silly promise to make, one he would never understand the depths of. Still, Rishe couldn’t help but take comfort in his words. Selfishly, she gripped onto that promise, believing he would fulfill it just like the rest of his vows. Maybe he was right, maybe this would be the life where it all changed. Maybe she would no longer have to worry about a life where was forced back to beginning all over again.
With those thoughts the hollow void in her heart began to shrink, though Rishe didn’t know for how long it would last.
Closing her eyes, Rishe allowed herself to simply be held in the arms of her husband. Please Goddess, please don’t let me lose this too.