Chapter: King II

Yeah, it goes on. Somehow I got mad about writing about WE, and the chapter has actually become quite long. Dismas is a bit out of control, but that's how we already know him ...

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Since I make no move to move in any way and so take the place of the King of Messengers, which has been pushed up to me like a ticking time bomb, Dismas begins to growl softly and continuously, a dull rumble that seems to come deep from his chest, and it I really wouldn't have been particularly surprised if he'd started baring his teeth the next moment.
"Are you coming now?" he asks, visibly annoyed, and his golden yellow eyes boring challengingly into mine.
"I don't even know what to do," I say weakly and try in vain to survive the gigantic wave of responsibility that sloshes in on me and that suddenly pours in on me. I was just sitting here trying desperately to find out who I really am - and now I'm supposed to face a horde of messengers and act like their king?I have never felt less majestic than at this moment and slowly let my eyelids droop.
"They look up to you, Orion", Disma's voice comes softly to my ear, to my silent astonishment free from any mockery, "you must not disappoint them."
I sigh and look into his eyes.What about me?I quietly ask myself,may I disappoint myself ?!
He tilts his head slightly and raises his chin invitingly. I take another deep breath and wish I had never heard the word prophecy - as soon as anything was announced about my predetermined future, I was just unlucky. But could you be lucky with that at all? Could you ever be satisfied with just serving as a pawn on a giant chessboard, even when you were king?
I sigh again, recognizing these thoughts as entirely correct but also as completely irrelevant, and turn to Eleonora. "You should sleep," I instruct her, "there are enough rooms upstairs."Anger flashes in her eyes, but before she can say anything I turn my back demonstratively and hurry out of the hall, pushing Dismas in front of me like an oversized shopping cart. Even if I persistently try to fight the feeling - I am almost relieved that I no longer have to be with her. The balancing act between my known and my previously unknown past, the present and the suddenly awakening feelings is too exhausting.Leia ...
Her name hangs over my head like a sword of Damocles and my guilty conscience takes my breath away. It's not even clear to me who I feel guilty about - Leia because I forgot her and fell in love again?
Or to Eleonora because I had gone back to a past love that can never be replaced?
Not to mention Molin and Can, who at some point I had simply left to their fate and even given up trying to save them.I shake my head sadly, let my hand drop from Dismas' shoulder, and slow my pace. So long I have been able to suppress all this successfully, all the time I had had to serve at Bathelem carefully hidden in the farthest corner of my memory, and now I had all the old wounds torn open again as if to check whether they still hurt as much as 80 years ago.
And, as I notice without the slightest astonishment, they do. It still hurts just as much that I lost the woman I loved and my best friend - and in the end, even if neither of them would blame me, it was solely through my fault.
But as if this pain that broke out again in me wasn't enough, the knowledge that I have already loved before joins me - even more final and fatal than before. That I once admired and adored the brothers whom I now hate and detest.Lost in thought, I hardly notice how Dismas stops in front of me and examines me. When I lift my head and look at him, I notice the silent question that is in his eyes.What's going on?
I swallow and run my hands through my hair. "I don't know if I can do that."
He inclines his head slightly, suggesting an understanding nod. "You can do it," he says confidently, and looks into the corridor in front of us as if he could smell the messengers that are not far from us, "definitely."
I let out a quiet snort and give him an ironic look. "Certainly?" I repeat questioningly, "or are you just saying that now so that I can finally take the last few steps and you no longer have to be alone with me?"
The hint of a smile plays in the corner of his mouth and he turns his gaze back to me. "Maybe both," he replies vaguely, before finally taking a deep, loud breath.
"What's the matter, Orion?Where has the man gone who just led an army? Where is your confidence? "
"Well, that's the problem," I reply quietly and briefly look into one of the many mirrors that line the corridor wall, "I guess this man no longer exists."
He frowns unwillingly and takes a step towards me. "You know, it'll probably hit you hard, but even without your pretty blue eyes you're still you. Besides, green doesn't look bad either."
His irony bounces off me like a protective shield. "That's not the point at all," I say with my face still averted, "I remembered my past."
One of his eyebrows raises questioningly and he gives me a wry look. "And? Did you suffer from amnesia before ?!"
I roll my eyes and look at him angrily. "Undead don't usually remember their lives."
He stares at me for a moment and then shrugs."And?" he then asks, obviously just out of politeness and not out of interest, "How was your life like?"
The smell of gunpowder and blood ... Dorian ... Allan ... And Leia. Leia. Leia ...
Without my noticing, my teeth dig into my lower lip. "Nothing special," I finally answer muffled and stubbornly blink away the tears that have formed.
His gaze rests on me skeptically for a moment, then he shrugs his shoulders again and turns around. “If you say so,” he says with a slightly annoyed undertone, “then it must be like that.” He throws me an inviting look over his shoulder. "Come on, you are expected!"
Sighing, I set off, still completely confused inside.
"I don't understand," I mutter quietly as I trot behind him like a pig ready to be slaughtered, "the messengers ... They never accepted me as one of theirs. Never liked me. But after seeing a stupid character I've painted on my hand, everyone thinks I'm the king. "He stops abruptly and I almost ran into his back. "Are you really that stupid?" he asks, with a little more than mere impatience in his voice, "or are you just pretending?"
"What?!" I ask a little aghast, "did you just say stupid?"
He turns around with a lightning-fast movement and snorts in annoyance. "The messengers never liked me, buhuu", he mimics me affectedly, "I was never one of them, buhuu."
My face hardens and before I really know what I'm doing, I've already pushed him so hard in the chest that he stumbles through the hallway like drunk. His eyes flash angry.
"Think about it, Orion," he growls, "you've always been the king. Their king. They always knew it, but they couldn't place their feelings. Now they know. You couldn't belong to them - kings don't belong to the people! "
For a second I was stunned. "To the ... people?" I echoe weakly and he rolls his eyes."Yes," he confirms with an exasperated nod, "to the people. The messenger."
"Oh," I say softly and swallow hard.
He shakes his head with a tired smile, then turns and walks on. "Don't stand there like a sheep ..."

"That cloud looks like a sheep," she says sleepily and moves her head a little, making me laugh with her hair.
"Stop laughing," she demands and presses her head a little harder into my stomach to underline her words, successfully squeezing the air out of my body.
I gasp softly and put my hand on her forehead soothingly. "Hey, don't worry," I whisper and gently run my thumb over her temple, "I'm not laughing at all."
She makes a satisfied sound and snuggles closer to me. Very slowly I let my eyelids sink, fading out the peaceful image of the sky above me, and surrender completely to the perfection of the moment. "I love you," I say very softly, little more than a whisper, but she heard it anyway.The weight of her head on my abdominal wall disappears and I can feel her scrutinizing gaze on me. I open my eyes.
“Don't say that,” she says firmly, “don't say it.” Her eyes reflect an unusual seriousness, and I frown in confusion.
"What?" I ask confused, "why not?"
She rolls onto her stomach, props herself up on her elbows, and stares at a daisy. The wind blows gently through her hair and I have to resist almost forcibly the temptation to touch her.
"Because I don't think you will," she says, still looking at the grass in front of her, "even if you might believe it."
I blink in amazement and rest my head on my arm. "What are you talking about?"
A little sigh escapes her. "We've known each other for so long," she explains, "and we've always done everything together. You didn't even have the chance to meet anyone else. You just think that you ..." Her voice becomes weaker and she turns her face away so that I can only see the back of her head."... dear ?!" I complete her sentence a little impatiently and with a touch of mockery in my voice. That's not exactly how I imagined the situation when I confess my love to my girlfriend. Much more body contact and fewer words.
"Yes," she confirms with a slightly husky voice and finally gives me a shy look. Am I mistaken - or am I seeing something like fear?
"Leia," I finally say, after waiting in vain for a few seconds for her to continue, "I guess I pretty much know what I'm feeling."
"Don't you know!" she contradicts violently and sits up with a jerk, her gaze fixed on the horizon.
How, I ask myself dully, could a cloud sheep get us into this stupid argument?
I swallow and say softly, "It's okay if you don't love me ..."
“It's not that”, she interrupts me hastily and clenches her fists, “it really isn't.” She leans her head back and her hair falls long down her back.To my surprise and concern, her brown eyes are suspiciously shiny.
"So what's going on?" I ask