Euthanasia

Chapter Four- Speaking with Silence

The night came and went slowly, as the moon traveled along the speckled sky, tears mimicked the movement along freckled cheeks. Then as the sun rose, lingering above flowered hills, the tears dried, and the palace was finally silent. I went back to my own room with the rising sun pouring light through stained-glass windows and melting into the tiled flooring. The palace was considerably bright with morning light despite the events of the night before. I was never the comforting type, but something about his sorrowful cries, and the fact that he had nightmares because of my own actions, carried me into his room to be the one to pull him from reliving the tragic event.

I pushed myself through my tiredness and forced myself to change into new clothes. We were leaving before noon, before the sun would be at its highest point in the sky, so I got dressed quickly, slipping on a forest green cloak over my shoulders. I went to pick up my mask but stopped myself. People had already seen my face, there was no point in hiding it anymore. I was going to break the habit of wearing it, so again I left it. I picked up a heavy golden handled sword from the weapon rack and sheathed it as I headed out of my room.

I ambled down the hall and stopped in front of George's room. I raised my hand to knock and lightly tapped on the door. No answer. Gently, I pushed it open, where I stepped into a silent room, and where George was wrapped in silky beige blankets, as light filtered in through the open window where a light breeze elegantly blew the thin, sheer curtains into the air.

A part of me felt bad waking him, but if he wanted to go to the forest today, we would have to leave soon. I brushed a finger over his freckled cheek and stared at the way his eyelashes rested below his eyes and his lips tipped slightly downward, not into a frown, but in a way that indicated a serene calmness. It was the first time I noticed him in that way. "George," I whispered. He began to stir, but after a moment stilled once again. I muttered his name again, and this time his eyes fluttered open, revealing a striking deep brown color that complimented his pale complexion.

"If you want to go to the forest today, get ready, we leave soon. I've already sent for a carriage; it will be here when we are ready to go." He nodded and blinked away from his sleepiness. He pulled the blankets away and slipped out of the bed, wobbling toward the large wardrobe across the room, where all his clothes were stashed. "I didn't think you would actually let me go, so... thank you for letting me." We held each other's gaze for a moment too long before he turned away and opened the wardrobe's soft oak doors and began swiping through the clothes.

"I know it was you last night...who was helping me away from my nightmare, I mean. Why was that?" The question caught me off guard. My breath caught in my throat and for a moment I was quiet, trying to think of an answer. He looked at me while I thought as he placed his change of clothes on his bed. "I don't know," I finally said, "I guess I knew that your pain was my fault, I wanted to fix what I did somehow.

"My father would have never helped someone who was weak, but my father is only a shadow now, I decided I don't have to be him, I let myself do what I wanted for once. I know it doesn't change what I did...But I guess... I guess I'm sorry. For everything I have done to this kingdom. This is my kingdom, no one else's, I need to help it, not kill it."

George stared down at the tiled floor, "You're right, it doesn't change anything. We are still against each other; you ruined every good in this kingdom. At least now you know your mistakes. And I'm sorry too, about your family. I'm sorry they couldn't save you." Then he walked in front of me, we stood only inches apart. He lifted his hand, a finger gently brushed against my cheek, the same I did to him only minutes before. He must have been awake enough to feel it. "You're less scary without a mask. You're a real person instead of an evil killer. The people would like you better this way. I like you better this way," he whispered the words, the last sentence quieter than the others, then he turned back to picking out clothes.