Hymn, The Princess in the Stained Glass Dress

Chapter 5-Agatha

The back of The Yellow Ship had a musty air to it. Breathing was a challenge, and seeing through the musk that clung to the air like fog was no easier. It did provide a nice cover to the celebration the rest of the men were having. I have no idea what they're celebrating, but I have a feeling that they always celebrate. I hung down into the oddly upholstered booth. The fabric was floral patterned and basically the color of dirt. I began to pick at the tear in the end of the booth. I was trying to think about anything other than that girl, that princess.

"If you think to hard, your face will stay that way." Marcus appeared from behind the fog. The room was very dark, and he blended in like a shadow.

"Marcus, where are you from?" again, distracting myself.

"I have no idea." His brows curled together. "I suppose I was born here, in Tora. However, I'm sure you're asking about the color of my skin. I don't know where my parents, or their parents came from. Just another place that's been taken over, and then forgotten." He shuffled from his usually extremely intimidating stance.

"You don't talk much." I finally said to him. We're best of friends, and I just cannot keep my mouth shut. It's gotten my in trouble a few times, and also gotten me out of it. Experience hasn't yet justified nor condemned my actions.

"No." He said, realizing that he had just proved my point, we both chuckled to ourselves.

"She's beautiful." I leaned forward and, for the first time, took ahold of the rum I had ordered after coming back inside. I had stayed for the beginning for the midnight show, but tore myself away.

"Yes." He responded sitting on the edge of the booth.

"She's so smart, and she has a temper." The corner of my mouth twitched.

"The spirit of a fighter." He answered in my same muffled tone.

"She's not going to help us so easily. She cares about her people though. She still refers to them as though she's ruled over them all these years. Perhaps we can use that." I was just thinking out loud at this point.

"Perhaps." Marcus contributed.

"Very insightful, my friend." I glared at him, tearing my eyes from the condensation on the glass.

"Oh, friend" He teased in his deep rumble. "I didn't know we were that close."

"I trust you Marcus, a thing I find hard to do." I said with a nod.

"I'm" he paused, "not sure if I trust you yet. It's something I find nearly impossible to achieve."

"I wouldn't trust me!" I shouted, thus breaking the serious tone. "A crazy blond woman appears out of nowhere and says she's going to kill the king, I'd be nervous." I laughed and finally took a drink of the rum. Marcus laughed for the first time in the past three days. It was a deep throaty laugh that actually caused a few men to stop and look in his direction.

We both fell into a low chuckle and he tipped his glass to me. I raised mine slightly and we drank.

"I need to talk to her again." I said as my drink hit the table again.

"Again? She spoke to you?" He pulled away from his drink.

"Yes..." I answered cautiously. She was slightly distant, both literally and figuratively, but she seemed to hold a conversation well enough. Why did he seem so shocked?

"I've never really heard of that... In fact, I tried to speak to her once and all she said was 'go away'," He stared into his, now, empty glass. I half hummed and half grunted.

She did seem to become more conservative after a while. Why would she want to avoid people if she's been excluded from the world? She knew who I was, so she knows what I've done. So why would she become hostile? And then there was her reaction to the clock striking nine.

"They don't allow her to speak." Marcus answered my thoughts. I glanced back up.

"Why? How?" I asked in a whisper. I was only half listening.

"I've heard it's to conserve her voice but I can imagine it's to keep her in their control. Also, perhaps, keep her from talking to people like you." He gestured to me with a nod.

"How do you know this?" I was fully listening at this point.

"They allow civilians, men mostly, to enter the tower in the morning when they bathe her. The men carry the bathing tub up the staircase," He mumbled behind his hand. I felt bile rise in my chest.

"That's disgusting," I told him truthfully. "The idea of exposing her body to men against her will-"

"Forgive me, but that treatment is only the beginning to her mortification and torment." Marcus spoke sternly, staring me down. Something in the way he looked told me he knew exactly what sort of mortifying torture this princess had endured.

"I need to speak with her again." I said, mainly to myself, while standing to leave.

2Hvo