A Tale of Traitors

The Rebellion--Part 2

      The brilliant purple sun beams painted the tips of the waves, seeping slowly through the water and bouncing off our weapons. There was singing in the city, songs that had not been heard in years. Shortly after we reached the first few houses, dancing came alive in the dry streets, tears and gladness and blood and joy mixing in an instant. I sifted through ranks of mermen and their families, pushing through them in search of anyone who needed healing. I gathered a group of nurses to help me turn a small house into a hospital, where we brought the injured soldiers to rest. The nurses were quickly busied with stitching arms and tails, mashing medicine into patient's mouths, and performing emergency surgery to the best of their ability. I was sent out to find soldiers who couldn't bring themselves to us.
      As soon as I pushed through the door, a gut-wrenching scream burst from the throat of a mother who had lost her son in battle. There is no describing the sound of complete and utter agony from someone who has experienced deeper loss than anyone can ever imagine. Her greying hair was a wreck, tangled with sand and shells, flinging wildly about as she fell over her son's body, collapsing to her knees and continuing to scream. I had to tear my eyes away. There were groups of young kids singing and dancing, rejoicing for those still alive. There were more tears. Screams of agony and joy. The rest of the morning was a blur. Royal guards were everywhere, setting up tables and carrying food through the crowd. I pursued the injured and brought them to the nurses whilst caring for crying parents, siblings, spouses, and friends, all of whom had lost someone dear to them. I felt like the crowd was swallowing me whole, pressure in my head and on my shoulders. The next two hours were full of colors, pressure, emotions that didn't make sense. I wasn't thinking clearly.
     I waited alone outside of the hospital tent, drowning in the sounds of grief, loss, and pain. I sank into thoughts buried so deep within that I had no thoughts at all. Something was stirring in my subconsciousness that I couldn't recognize or remember. On the surface, I was staring at the water, feeling, seeing, thinking nothing. The waves acted as if they had a mind of their own. They tossed and turned viciously, shoved along by numerous forces. The ocean is so powerful. When it is angry, it wrecks havoc on everything it touches, uprooting trees, tearing apart homes, welcoming stranded victims into the arms of death himself. When it is pleased, it laps gently at the edges of beaches, a playful and welcoming friend to even the smallest children, and home to countless creatures of all sizes. The ocean can be furious and peaceful all at once, simultaneously wrecking and welcoming. The ocean is powerful, it seems to have a mind of its own. But it doesn't. Its mind is constantly at war with itself. The ocean is influenced by the moon, the wind, the animals within. It is forever hot and cold. The ocean is pulled this way and that, dragged in every direction by the ships on the surface and the monsters hunting in the depths. The ocean, even though it is mighty, is dependent on all of these other factors. It cannot think for itself. The good qualities of the ocean are washed away by its inability to think for itself, to be independent. I felt my mind was similar to the ocean, forever in a war with itself, pouring passionately in all directions, unable to make decisions on its own. Something in me was boiling with rage. I hadn't always been this way. I didn't want to be this way anymore.

I was slowly sinking, deeper and deeper, into these poisonous thoughts.

"WILLOW!" Someone was roaring. I tumbled backward off the wall I was sitting on. "WILLOW! Is that you?"
"Queen?" I scrambled to my feet and tore toward her.
"I've been screaming for HOURS," she emphasized, pushing me away from her and eyeing me up and down. "You're not dying?"
"... No?"
She slammed her fist into my arm.
"What was that for?" I yelled in pain.
"Making us worry!" She rolled her eyes. I almost hoped they'd get stuck in her head.
"I had things to do." I mumbled angrily.
"Get something to eat. You look like crap." She turned to leave.
"Gee, thanks."
"Willowww!" Someone else screamed from behind me. I turned just before Bob threw his arms around me. "You don't even know. We were looking for you for so long!"
"I'm sorry I scared you--oh, you're, uh--" I couldn't help staring at the massive gash on his face.
"Oh, I'm totally fine. Queen thinks I'll need, like, stitches, but I'll go later. I feel fantastic! And, you know what, stitches would be totally sick."
"Let's get that looked at now--" I tried, but he interrupted me and launched into battle stories while the blood dripped down his nose. Even Queen couldn't help smiling at his enthusiasm. Deep down, I think she was happy to see me and embarrassed she'd been so worried.
     We joined Dalia and Adrianna, both of whom were covered in sand and other people's blood. They'd done well for themselves. All of us were exhausted and overjoyed, alert and alive. Royal banners of neon green and coral were draped over the front of the palace, all through the streets and over all the buildings. Tables were set in the center of town, laden with desserts and delicacies most of these people had never tasted. I plucked a cupcake from the table and placed it in the hands of a little girl, who thanked me in her bubbly language and ran away laughing. Queen practically trampled us to get her food first while Bob shoved things into his mouth as he passed them. I was too tired to stop either of them from embarrassing the rest of us.
     "Dee!" A cheery voice was calling. "Queen! Adri! Willow! Bob!" The jolly old professor jogged toward us. "Look at this--you've done all this!"

It was beautiful to watch.

It really was.

I sort of felt like the person I used to be.

So why did everything feel so wrong?