Fire and Ice

We Will Meet Again

Eliza
If I could do it all over again, I don't know if I would have done it differently.

It would have been easier, sure. But I don't like easy. Things are so much more interesting when things are hard. An easy battle is boring, but a difficult battle, one where I fight for my life, are some of the best times of my life.

But this is a different time of hard.

But I can handle anything. I know I can. I'm tough. I'm a warrior. I can handle anything, except maybe this. I can't handle remembering.

Everyone from the Ice Kingdom had looked the same. Even he looked like the rest of them, but somehow, he was still different. His pale skin, white-blond hair, blue eyes, all identical to the others from his kingdom, were entirely his own. I wish I could forget him. But he was so different.

If I could do it over again, maybe I wouldn't have fought him, let him get in my head. I could have fought any other soldier, and erase the fact that we had met. I could have changed this, changed that now I can't focus, because he's taking over my mind. I don't want him to. I would love to kick him out, never have to hear him again. But it just isn't that simple. It should be. But it isn't.

I walk into the training room. The war has begun, regardless of what I'm thinking of or dealing with. And that means that I have to train, regardless of my thoughts. Regardless of Jonathan. I pull a bow from the rack on the wall and begin shooting arrows at targets.

Release, release, release.

Bullseye, bullseye, bullseye.

At least that part of my life, the warrior part of me, is still the same.

"Eliza?" I hear my father enter the room. I turn to face him. "Training, I see."

"It can't hurt," I say. "What about you, Father? Have you been training?"

"I'm too old to be fighting in this war, my daughter. Are you sure that you're old enough? Last night was an emergency, but we can protect you from further battles. We have an army."

"I'm sixteen. I can fight in a war. I've spent my life training, Father, and I'm not going to through it all away now."

"Then you're better than I am," he says. He's tall, with grating black hair and dark almond eyes that look like mine. He smiles and picks up a sword with the blade dulled. We use them for practicing swordplay without hurting our opponents. He picks up another and hands one to me. He then prepares his stance, and I prepare mine.

We fight. The swords clash against each other, the loud sound of metal on metal filling the air. It goes on, for several minutes until I feel the blade on my side. It doesn't hurt, but I know that I've lost. I lower my blade, and so does my father. "I don't understand," he says. "You fought so well last night."

"I suppose I'm tired."

"You should sleep, Eliza. You haven't gone to your chamber since the battle. Go sleep, so we can prepare to make war plans tomorrow."

I nod, then leave the training room. I walk through the corridors and up the stairs into my chamber. I close the door and fall back onto my bed, my skirt coming up to my knees. I sit back up and look in the mirror. My red dress has a tear on skirt and my hair is scraggly, hanging loosely down my back. I see the shadows underneath my eyes, the result of lost sleep. I take off the dress and pull on my white nightgown. I sit down and brush out my hair before falling back onto my bed, asleep.

I wake up to a knock on my door. I sit up, pulling my shawl around me and tell the knocker to come in. It's my mother, fully dressed in formal dress.

"What time is it?" I say groggily.

"It's noon," she says. "And we're making our announcement today."

"What about?"

"The war, of course. The people need to know what's happening."

"All right."

"So get dressed." I drag myself out of bed and pull a formal dress from my closet. Deep red, somewhat of a full skirt, off the shoulder sleeves. A dress that suggests nothing is wrong. I wonder if we should be wearing darker clothes, out of respect for the wounded and fallen. But we need to make it seem as if nothing is wrong. That's our job.

I put on the dress and brush my hair back into bun at my neck. I pull on a pair of heels and begin to walk towards the door. I look back and see my sword, my bow, and my quiver with arrows in it. I grab all three and leave.

I walk down the same steps I ran down last night to fight. I find my parents in the hall. Each of them looks so regal, so in control. How can I possibly be this different? I'm not in control, not of the war, of my thoughts, of my feelings...

"Eliza, here's the plan," Father says. "All three of us stand on the balcony, you with your weapons hidden, preferably. I will speak to the people about the situation. We will then return inside. Yes?"

I nod, and follow my parents up to the balcony. We stand there, and I listen to my father talk, watching the horizon. Suddenly I see a steady line of soldiers dressed in blue come into view. I recognize who they are immediately.

"We're under attack!" I interrupt before grabbing my weapons and watching the soldiers draw closer to us, trying to drown out the screams of the people who have come to listen to my father. I start to back away off the balcony, towards the steps, but Father grabs my arm.

"We have soldiers to fight this war. You don't have to." His voice is deep with concern, but I need to fight.

"I'm not going to just sit here," I say, and leave.

Jonathan

I see her before I even reach the palace. Standing up on that balcony, trying to hide that she's a warrior, a fighter. I saw her leave, probably to hide as her father told her to. Her not being here would make this easier. It would be easier to fight her kingdom if I didn't have to look into her eyes and know what I'm doing to her.

The soldiers come forward to us, their uniforms a blazing red. This is just like every other battle, I tell myself, wanting to believe it. At least she isn't here.

I fight like I do in every practice, every battle. Everything is the same. Fight a soldier, strike him down. Fight another, and another, and another. Everything is the same. Until I find myself caught in a fight with someone I know.

"You again," Eliza says to me.. I fight her for a few seconds, not knowing what to do. I can't hurt her.

"It's me," I respond stupidly. I think about what I have to do, and I decide on what I need to do. "Can I ask you something?"

She nods, her sword up.

I take a deep breath and ask, "Would you allow me to see you again?"

She smiles at me, a thin smile that conceals what I hope she truly feels. She looks so beautiful there, looking at me, her black hair falling into her eyes and that smile on her face. "I think I can arrange that," she says, spins around, and keeps fighting another soldier.

The battle ends several hours later, with a loss on our side. It's hard to think, even though we lost, even though my entire focus should be on the war, and winning it. I want to win, but some part of me wants her to win too. I don't want her to be hurt or to lose. It's only when I think about it that I realize that for her to win, I have to lose.

And then I realize I don't even mind that much.