A Journey Unwanted

[Realm: Álfheimr]

[Location: Heart Kingdom]

[Pulchritudo]

[Banquet]

Gretel’s brows furrowed.

For a moment, she simply stared at Iphigenia.

She had known almost nothing about the princess before this encounter beyond what mattered in a fight: her identity, her position, the danger she represented, and the fact that she possessed enough power to turn the estate into a weapon if she chose to. Whatever image Gretel had formed of her, responsibility had not been particularly high on the list.

It was not that her words themselves were extraordinary. They were simple and obvious.

But the way Iphigenia had said them was different.

There had been no attempt to make herself sound noble. It was certainly no dramatic declaration of compassion or insistence that she was a good person. She had simply spoken as though there were certain things a person in her position was obligated to do, whether they wanted to or not.

That was what mainly caught her off guard.

"You seem surprised," Iphigenia noted.

Gretel’s eyes shifted over her, taking in the princess’s still-disheveled appearance. Dust clung to parts of her dress. Her hair, which had been carefully arranged before everything had been reduced to ruin, was still somewhat disordered despite her efforts to fix it. Yet there was still that composure about her, even now.

Gretel gave a small, humorless breath through her nose.

"Forgive me for not expecting warmth from someone who shows no towards mere thieves," she said dryly. "You did rather ruin the image of a considerate princess when you decided to throw an entire tower at me."

Iphigenia’s expression barely changed.

"It’s responsibility," she corrected, her voice no less firmer than before. "Not warmth. There’s a difference. I don’t have to like someone to understand that I have obligations toward the people around me."

She paused, glancing briefly toward the devastation surrounding them.

"Have you ever been at the mercy of someone who simply did not want to take responsibility for what they were doing? It’s quite nasty, you know. Not because they’re always cruel, but because they can make terrible things happen and then decide that the consequences belong to someone else."

Her gaze settled on Gretel again.

"Merely ignoring those consequences because doing so is the easier road doesn’t make them disappear. It only means somebody else has to carry them."

Gretel’s expression slowly became unreadable.

She had been prepared for arrogance from Iphigenia. Anger, perhaps. Even indignation over the fact that a wanted thief had managed to stand against her and remain alive.

This was different; there was an odd way in which the princess spoke that suggested the words were not theoretical.

Gretel watched her carefully.

She could tell Iphigenia was speaking from experience; that realization made the conversation considerably less comfortable.

("Ignoring consequences, huh.")

The thought came quietly, almost against Gretel’s will.

Her eyes lowered toward the ground, toward the broken stone and splintered remains scattered across what had once been a functioning estate.

("Is that what I’m doing by avoiding that witch?") The question was heavy in her mind; she did not immediately have an answer.

She had spent so long thinking about what she had done, what had been done to her, what she had lost, and what she wanted to do about it that the simplest question had somehow become the hardest one.

("She’s still out there.") Gretel’s fingers curled slightly. ("Doing what she did to me and my brother to other people.") Her jaw tightened. ("And I swore off revenge because I thought I had no right pursuing it.")

That had always been the justification, at least; that was what she had told herself. She had convinced herself that revenge was something she had to leave behind. That she couldn’t allow hatred to dictate what remained of her life when she put the lives of others in danger. She had even once thought that perhaps pursuing someone purely because of what they had done to her would make her no better than the people she despised.

It had sounded reasonable and it had sounded mature.

But now, standing amid the estate ruins and listening to someone speak so plainly about responsibility, Gretel found herself wondering whether she had simply found a respectable way of avoiding something she was afraid to confront.

She swallowed.

("Maybe there’s another reason.") The thought was uncomfortable enough that she nearly pushed it away. ("A reason like... fear.")

The word itself soured her already dampened mood.

Gretel’s eyes narrowed; she hated how easily the possibility fit. Not fear of that witch’s power, not entirely. Fear of what would happen if she actually went after her. Maybe fear of failing or fear of discovering that all the anger she had carried for so long wasn’t enough to change anything.

And perhaps, worse than all of that, fear of what would be left of her if she actually succeeded.

"What a sour expression," Iphigenia remarked.

Gretel looked up.

The princess was watching her now, one brow somewhat raised.

"Do my words wound you?"

"No..." Gretel answered after a brief pause. Her voice lacked any energy. "They just brought something up."

She glanced away, seemingly annoyed with herself for having admitted even that much.

The two of them stood in silence for a moment.

It was not a long silence, but it was long enough for the fact that they had been fighting only moments earlier to feel strangely distant. Gretel looked around again; the estate was still silent.

There were no voices coming from the main building or any calls for help that she could hear through the wreckage. Only the occasional groan of damaged stone settling somewhere.

Her expression shifted.

"Since we’re not fighting anymore..." she began, then looked back toward Iphigenia. "Maybe I can help. We should at least look for any survivors."

Iphigenia furrowed her brows; the reaction was genuine perplexity.

"You’ve a window to escape," she said. "Yet you would stay?"

Gretel gave a small shrug, though the movement was less confident than she intended.

"Well..." She glanced toward the destruction. "Leaving would be the easy road, right?"

The words came out almost casually, but she heard the uncertainty in her own voice, and so did Iphigenia.

The princess’s eyes narrowed; she searched Gretel’s expression for deception. There was none; that much was obvious. Gretel had nothing to gain from lying now. Iphigenia had already decided that she was willing to turn a blind eye to the thief and allow her to leave. If Gretel wanted freedom, she had been given it.

Yet there was something else missing, sincerity. Enough that Iphigenia noticed. Gretel did not sound as though she had made a decision. She sounded as though she was trying to convince herself that the decision she was making was the right one.

Iphigenia shook her head slowly.

"You..." She frowned, regarding Gretel with increasing disbelief. "You’re not even sure, are you?"

Gretel’s mouth pulled into a wry smile.

"Is that bad?"

"It makes you a dumbass." The bluntness of the answer caught Gretel completely off guard.

Her eyebrows lifted.

For someone who carried herself with the dignity of a princess, Iphigenia had delivered the vulgar insult with such sincerity that Gretel almost didn’t know how to react.

Iphigenia continued before Gretel could say anything.

"You have a clear opportunity to leave, and instead you’re standing here debating whether you should stay and help people you don’t know. You’re not certain why you’re doing it, you’re not certain whether you even want to do it, and somehow you’ve still decided to involve yourself." Her eyes narrowed. "But far be it for me to question your idiocy."

There was no malice in the remark; if anything, it sounded almost resigned.

Gretel stared at her for another second, then Iphigenia turned away, and she started walking. There was no dramatic gesture to indicate that she expected Gretel to follow. She simply began making her way through the destroyed estate, stepping around broken stone and fragments of wood as she searched the wreckage ahead.

Gretel remained where she was.

For several seconds, she watched the princess’s back disappear gradually among the debris.

The sensible thing would have been to leave, she knew that.

("This is stupid...") Her eyes lowered. ("I really should go.")

There was no reason for her to remain. It was not like she had some obligation or promise. She was not some saintess who had set out into the world to save every poor soul she happened to encounter. She had spent most of her life surviving by knowing when to run, when to lie, when to steal, and when to leave before things became too dangerous.

This was exactly the sort of situation she should have walked away from.

Especially after everything that had happened.

Especially after Iphigenia had given her permission to do so.

Gretel shifted her weight; one foot moved slightly before she stopped. She looked toward the path leading away from the estate, then toward Iphigenia.

The princess was already some distance ahead.

Gretel’s expression grew firm; she had spent so much time defining herself by what she had lost that she had rarely stopped to consider what she was supposed to be when she wasn’t chasing after it.

("After all, I’m not some saintess.") Her lips pressed together. ("I’m just someone who...")

The thought stalled; Gretel frowned.

That was the problem.

She didn’t know how to finish it.

She was a thief, a survivor, someone who had learned to be careful and someone who had spent years carrying something she could neither forget nor resolve.

And lately, there had been Mikoto, the dragons, and hunting them. Everything they were supposedly doing now.

("Yeah...") Gretel finally stepped forward. ("When I’m not after that witch, I’m not even sure what it is I’m doing besides supposedly hunting the dragons with Mikoto.")

She looked ahead at Iphigenia; the princess did not turn around as Gretel continued walking.

Her pace was slow, as though she were still giving herself every opportunity to change her mind.

("Was that revenge all there is to my life?") The question hurt more than she expected; she had never needed an answer before.

Revenge had been enough to give everything direction. Enough to explain why she kept moving. Enough to justify the risks, the exhaustion, the anger, and the compromises.

But if that was taken away...

What remained?

("Could there be more that might matter?")

Gretel’s gaze lingered on the destruction around her; the question did not come with some sudden revelation.

There was no answer waiting for her.

Only her own uncertainty.

Only the uncomfortable possibility that perhaps she had been defining herself by one thing for so long that she had forgotten she was allowed to become something else.

She exhaled slowly, then she followed after the princess wordlessly.

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