The Inaugural Address

PART I - CHAPTER I

1.

"Alright, no rush now, don't forget your breathing..." I whisper, instructing Brock calmly. The brisk air made it so that my breath was visible. "Whenever you're ready, go ahead -- just make sure you don't miss your chance." We both focused our eyes on a group of unsuspecting turkeys.

"Are you not going to tell me when?" Brock asked, his voice even quieter. His breath created its own cloud of condensation, grazing his slender facial features before reaching his medium-length reddish-brown hair and accompanying gray beanie.

Before I could answer, we heard a stick break in the distance. The turkeys responded, suddenly on high alert. As they fled, I watched Brock strike one in the back with an arrow. I grinned as he celebratorily jolted his bow-wielding arm into the air. I could tell that he knew he didn't need further instruction, and that he was learning to trust his instincts again.

"Looks like lunch is on me!" He called out cheerily as he got up to retrieve our next meal.

We hopped the fence back toward the market with bows in one hand and our upcoming meals in another. The fog surrounding the woods just past the fence line was beginning to fade as the light of dawn became the light of later morning. My black hair began catching the emerging sunlight, peeking through the partially-cloudy horizon. I looked across the moderately busy market, recognizing every face around.

"Two turkeys, three rabbits, and a pheasant. Not too bad for the first hunt of the season!" Brock said, awkwardly swinging the birds in his arms back and forth while walking. "And not too bad for someone who's only two months past a hand injury."

"I scored us one rabbit and a turkey. Everything else was you, so thank yourself!" I knew the extra encouragement was appreciated given that Brock had missed a few shots before he landed our final turkey. "No one would be able to tell that you sliced your hand a few months ago."

"Thanks babe," Brock replied. "How long do we have till the town hall meeting?" He asked as we reached our designated table on the far side of the market. We placed down the birds and rabbits as I groaned before replying.

"Not long enough," I began, truly dreading the whole intention of the meeting. "I don't know what Mabel expects to achieve with it, I don't see anything changing because of an unreliable DNA test."

"When will you understand it is reliable? Finding any blood-related relatives to the House of Scorpius would be a game changer. It wouldn't kill you to hope--" Brock started his rebuttal, but I cut it short.

"We've spent years hoping. Town hall meetings, hunger strikes, letters upon letters of complaints... I think we're better off accepting they'd rather see us die than help us."

"I get that, however with that mentality we're destined to fail, which I can't settle with." Brock replied. "What then? We just wait to starve, take whatever we can get? If we have a real chance to get the next Empress on our side, things are bound to get better, right?" His questions, though potentially rhetorical, garnered another reply from me.

"I say we stop working to address the situation or embrace the House of Scorpius at all, and instead work to dismantle it." I continued as Brock threw the birds and rabbits in the cooler, rolling his eyes. "Why should we make a deal with the devil? You can't save a house on fire by running into the flames. You have to extinguish it entirely..."

"You know that we could never take down the government entirely." Brock sighed. "Look, I know you're worried about what they'll find when they run your test," He added, interrupting my point with an even more polarizing one. The entire morning had been spent dancing around the delicate subject of both of our DNA tests. He places his hand on my arm and continues, "We're of the first born Sagittarians, which means..."

"What do you mean 'which means'? We can't assume anything simply because we were born on the cusp. You really think either of us could be her twin?" I say, interrupting him before he can finish the thought. "Even if I am the first born Sagittiarian, the chances of that are slim. And you were born just a few hours after me -- what if I suggested you two might be related? Being her twin would be hell and you know it. Plus, thinking such nonsense has nothing to do with the real issues at hand," I say quickly. "There are plenty of other Sagitarrians born on our birthday, to assume that any of us..."

"Philip," Brock interrupts me to begin again. "Of course we know nothing at the moment, all I am saying is we're nearly the exact same age as the next Empress, and you were the first born Sagittarian our year, while she was the last Scorpio born right before you..." His continued assertions showed he wasn't listening to me at all.

"You aren't listening to me and you don't know what you're talking about," I say, trying to hide my denial that his thought process was making me wonder as well. Regardless, I couldn't entertain the idea without any type of reliable evidence. I brushed his arm away and began to turn before he stopped me.

"Look -- I love you -- but you are the most stubborn Sagitarrian I know." He managed to completely turn me back around before continuing his thought. "You don't think I'm scared too? If I'm related to the next Empress my life would change forever, they'd want me to lead the rebellion, and I don't know if I could handle that." His words were heavy, even if they didn't seem to feel that way to him. "They'd make me their poster child, and we all know what can happen to the figurehead. This is all just speculation though, and no matter what I'll have you by my side, right?" He asks, to which I nod in agreement. "And if these roles are to be reversed, I'll obviously be there for you, okay?"

"Okay," Is all I can manage to say before he continues further.

"Alright, I'm leaving to go to the town hall and I would love to have you join me. I have a feeling about this one, I know it sounds far off, but I think things are about to change, and although we are uncertain, it may very well include one of us, or not, who knows. Regardless, I want to be on the right side of history, and I know you do too." Brock replied, walking us away from our table. His eyes grew big suddenly. "If the rumors are true, and one of us is her twin, everything is about to change. You've heard the rumors about her sympathy for our cause. Imagine the potential if we get through to her before she takes power next year!"

"I love you too, I just can't help but think that no matter what this meeting brings, after it's over I'll end up being even more hopeless than I am now. And I think we're jumping to too many damaging conclusions." I responded honestly.

Despite my rejection of his ideas, I really appreciate Brock for his optimism and admire him even more for his ability to maintain such a fragile philosophy. Throughout our childhood he excelled in the philosophy courses at the Sagittarian School of Development (otherwise referred to as SSD), constantly contrasting the arguments and entire thought processes of our more pessimistic peers. He did so fearlessly, all while we were both bullied by our classmates as being the two kids born on the Sagittarius-Scorpio cusp. Kids will find anything to feel superior over their peers.

I, on the other hand, remained less outspoken in class, falling back into what those not as close to me saw as my signature behavior: listening and taking it all in, rarely sharing my own thoughts and opinions. On the worst days, this came across as a weakness for the bullies to exploit. One day, I had been beaten up by some kids after school, and Brock found me and took care of me, further risking his own reputation. That's where our friendship and eventual relationship began. What they saw as weakness he saw as a strength to balance out his opinionated nature, which he saw as his own weakness despite my rebuttals. Still, on most occasions growing up, I saw myself in his shadow. Regardless, as I have grown older, I have been able to speak my mind more because of him. Brock remains as outspoken and as fearless as ever, but now he does so in a more calculated and considerate fashion, which he credits my influence on him for.

"Well, luckily for you," Brock responded with a smile, "It's my nature to be optimistic, and I'll never stop expressing it." He reached out his hand as he continued somewhat theatrically. "Now come with me, to the dreaded, out-of-touch-with-reality meeting about the downfall of the Commonwealth and potentially our lives. Who knows, maybe we'll never be the same."