The queen watched as the herd left, friends that she had hurt and friends that she had raised, friends that were following her and their king bravely into the unknown. She was no leader; perhaps the rest of her flock knew it as well as she knew it, and yet they followed her. Did that mean they were stupid, or did that mean they thought Kaj was capable of taking on the responsibilities of both positions? Did it mean something else entirely? Kahlua did not know. She did not know anything, except that as she stood here on the throne she felt… heavy.

She does not turn to watch him watch her. Instead, her blue eyes stare into the distance, eagerly taking in the forest, and then tilting to the east, straining to catch sight of the wall that she had built… the wall that kept her trapped here. Except that there had been a moment where she had tasted freedom- the Island had been something grand and beautiful, something unexplored and unexpected, something mysterious and amazing, a place to meet friends and know family. Except even that beautiful place had grown to be something monstrous and ugly to her- another place where evil reigned and responsibility took hold. Was this the life she had clawed and tried so desperately for? Why, then, was it nothing she had imagined.

It was funny, how her conversations about love had so eerily mirrored those of Kaj. Everybody’s ideas of love forced upon her- Does he make your heart lighter? If you love him you won’t fear him. Love makes the world brighter, your burdens lighter. Was that really love, or was that everyone else’s idea of love? And if it was love, why did her idea of love have to be the same as everyone else’s? She hated this. She hated standing here and not knowing how to work these problems out for herself, she hated that think and think though she might try, she could never really figure out what she was supposed to know. She hated that life was stealing so much of her.

Would she soon become a shadow with no resemblance to herself?

She was drawn from her hopeless musings by the touch of her king, a soft nose against her jaw line, and she slowly melted towards him. That touch… she felt safe. Why had nobody told her that love felt safe? Because that was how she felt now. Why had nobody told her that love felt like home? Because that was where she was now. Were those things just not part of love? Were those things part of something else that nobody had told her about? “I don’t know what I want out of life,” was her response, though, avoiding those questions that plagued her. “What do you want?” And finally she turned her sad blue eyes to him. Why did being around him always make her sad? Everything was confusing.