Pollyanna sat on the edge of her bed, hands clasped in her lap. She wrestled with herself, trying to decide whether to tell Eory about her past or not. She ran nervous fingers through her long hair, smoothing it back in contemplation. Like the rest of the fortress, her room was soaked in sickening red light, it made her head hurt all-the-more while trying to make such a difficult decision.

She felt the ghost of long, elegant fingers playing with her hair.

Thighs pinched her hips, arms wrapped around her stomach; a voice cooed in her ear. “A sword doesn’t doubt. A sword has no fear.”

Pollyanna leaned back with a moan, lips that were not really there kiss her neck.

She slid off her bed with heavy breaths. Sweat pooled on her forehead. “I want you Fjorn. I know it’s you I really want and not Eory.” Pollyanna murmured quietly to herself. “You made me strong.”

Pollyanna faced her bed, laying her cheek on it thoughtfully. She thought of how Eory had given her a choice in telling him everything. None of his ancestors had ever given her a choice in anything; not even her own parents had ever given her a choice.

Her fingers dug into the blanket.

She clenched her teeth. Tears bloomed in the corner of her eyes. “Damn you! Why are you so kind to me! Why can’t you be like the rest of us! I am not your equal, I am your slave. Take these wretched choices out of my hands so that I may live in peace again."

She whispered to herself, "Why am I so afraid? I am invulnerable...”

Her skin was iron, but her mind was laid bare.

__

Eory sat cross-legged on his own bed.

His muscles ached from the training session earlier; his head hurt from learning something new

at

the training session. He had gotten several bruises from losing matches to almost every other recruit he had gone up against. He worried about being set on the battlefield in his current condition.

I have to do better… I only have one more day of training left, too.

The thought of being put on the battlefield made his heart nearly pound out of his chest. All he could envision were the dozens of ways he might die.

He glanced at his door, wondering if Pollyanna would come.

She won’t come!

Taylor promised with a giggle.

A sword will not come to your hand unless you grab it.

The red lighting coating the door made his insides squirm.

Eory wanted to have faith in her; even if he could no longer love and idolize her, he wanted to help her. She was an evil woman, but she must have had her reasons. Untold damage had been done to her by his own family, and by a cruel world which had turned its back on her.

Kori had given him a second chance. Pollyanna deserved a second chance, too. Maybe he could be the one to give it to her. He didn’t think she was beyond redemption; she smiled, laughed, frowned and cried like anyone else. She was not like his family, who seemed to feel nothing toward those who were not Arrozan.

If she comes… I think it means that she wants to be helped deep down…

Eory thought to himself.

Eory’s eyes stayed locked on the door.

It felt like an hour had gone by, and he was about to give up with a heart that was too heavy to carry, but then…The door creaked open, and there stood Pollyanna in a nightgown, exposing her scarred legs.

Eory realized this was the first time he had ever seen her wearing anything close to feminine other than at the ball. It was also the first time he had ever seen her looking anything close to vulnerable.

Eory said not a word. He didn’t want to do anything to make her change her mind—she was a testy person, after all.

A silent intensity hung in the air between the two. The room, bathed in red lighting, felt eerie and perverse. Pollyanna’s heavy footsteps were loud in the utterly silent room. The old woman chose to sit on the floor, her back pushed up against the side of Eory’s bed.

Eory waited for her to say something.

“Do you know how lucky you are to have me, Eory? Someone who will always come to rescue you no matter what?” Pollyanna asked.

Eory stared forward, wondering how she wanted him to answer such a question. “I am grateful for your protection, but not grateful that you are willing to strike down anyone who looks at me suspiciously.”

Pollyanna snorted. “How funny. When I was a little girl, I would have thanked Renthas every night if I had a knight who killed anyone who looked at me suspiciously.” Pollyanna invoked the human god’s name.

There was a pause, and then Pollyanna looked up at the ceiling. “Nobody was ever looking out for me. I prayed every night for someone to rescue me, but it didn’t happen. I guess that’s as good a place to continue my tale as any.”

__

On Pollyanna’s wedding night, she ran through the white, pristine halls of Kline’s beautiful manor, a luxurious building that stood at the edge of Pollyanna’s little town.

She was as prey running away from a hunter.

Earlier that fateful night, Pollyanna’s heart had been thumping with terror the whole time while Kline said his vows. She and Kline had an outdoor wedding under the stars. Trees were decorated with white streamers and clear, glass ornaments. The pathway leading to Kline was decorated with pink rose petals. To her left and right were dozens of guests--friends of her mother, not her friends--watching the procession. Pollyanna’s eyes swept the crowd that was gawking at her—some people were barely biting back laughter, others were merely smiling with adoring eyes.

She found her mother’s face. She wore an approving grin on it.

The priest spoke to her, “…to promise to serve him in all of his endeavors, bare his children, and be faithful to him under the eyes of Renthas?”

Pollyanna’s vision swam as she looked to her mother who nodded at her silently.

“I d-do…” Pollyanna murmured.

“You may kiss the bride.” The priest said to Kline. Kline stepped toward her with a greedy look on his face. Automatically, Pollyanna stepped back in fear.

The crowd, which had been clapping and cheering—some of them even cooing—went dead silent at Pollyanna’s unintentional movement.

Kline scowled. He dug his fingers into her arms, wrenching her toward him--shoving his lips onto hers. Pollyanna did not close her eyes. She stared up at the sky in horror. Once Kline released her, she glanced back at the crowd and saw Rory looking absolutely devastated. His eyes were glassy, his face downcast.

Why couldn’t you save me?

Pollyanna wondered.

Pollyanna was silent at Kline’s side while he went around having benign conversations with all the townsfolk. They spoke as if she were not even there.

“You’ll have fun with this one tonight!” Many of the men teased with ugly smirks.

“What a lucky girl she is!” Many of the women exclaimed. “To be married to someone so wealthy at such a young age!”

Her own mother ignored Pollyanna’s glassy eyes as she spoke to Kline, paying no heed to her daughter’s feelings. “She’s a precious gift; I’ll take care of her.” Kline assured her mother.

“Stand up straight, Pollyanna.” Was all her mother said to her. 

Kline socialized with the wedding guests for two more hours. They danced, ate good food, and drank fine wine. And after that, nearly all the guests had gone. Pollyanna knew what was about to happen to her. She was petrified.

“We’ll be retiring for the night now!” Kline announced, and everyone clapped.

Her tears were invisible to the crowd.

Kline dragged her inside the manor. He spoke to her—making harmless conversation—but it fell on deaf ears. Pollyanna had two options to choose from; flight or fight.

As Kline handed off the gifts he had gotten to his servants, Pollyanna bolted.

Kline’s laughter filled her ears as she ran down the hallway. “Run, run, little bird. What a fun game you like to play!”

She turned to the right when the hall eventually forked in opposite directions.

His voice echoed throughout the manor as she elbowed a servant out of the way. “You can run but you can’t hide!”

She came upon a staircase on her right, feeling an aching in her tiring legs. She panted with exertion, pushing herself to run up the stairs. Pollyanna took a deep breath at the top of them—her heart beating uncontrollably in her ears.

Pollyanna continued sprinting after catching her breath. She glanced frantically to her left and right at many open doors as she went—looking for a suitable place to hide.

She heard footsteps slowly climbing the stairs behind her.

“Come out come out wherever you are!” Kline called with a chuckle. Pollyanna came to the end of the hall. She ducked into the room on her left, slamming the door shut in her haste.

White fear pervaded her being, legs and arms trembling. She pushed a heavy table up against the door, her muscles feeling weak. She was a thin, starving thing. Her parents had no money to feed her. She had barely any strength.

Footsteps approached in the hall.

Pollyanna whimpered, hiding in the closet with her legs pulled up to her chest.

Help me, please. Somebody help me!

Her mind was white with fear as footsteps came to a halt before her door. She could barely breathe. She bit back a sob with a palm clapped to her mouth.

The knob jiggled.

Tears streamed from her eyes.

Fists slammed on the doors. “Damn you! Little bitch! Just wait until I’m done with you!” She heard his footsteps receding after a moment.

Pollyanna hung her head, covering her face in her palms, weeping hysterically. Her heart dropped when she heard footsteps approaching again.

Kline returned with servants who shoved the door inward--pushing the furniture away from the door just enough to admit him into the room.

Pollyanna stood up, plastering herself against the wall--shutting the closet door. “No, no…” She whispered.

Kline swung the door, cornering her in the closet—a tall, thin girl, so emaciated that her bones were showing, shivering like a mouse. He grabbed her by the collar with hateful eyes. “You’re mine now. Do you understand?”

Pollyanna shook her head—any words she had were caught in her throat.

“You will.” He replied coldly. He yanked on her collar, splittingthe fabric.

He shoved her toward his servants. “Undress her.”

__

-------Eory was deep in thought about Pollyanna’s story. It made him feel sick, it turned his eyes glassy, while Pollyanna’s own eyes remained dry as dust. He felt as if he were there, watching while an innocent girl had her innocence ripped from her--a precious thing, that Eory himself clung to. His stomach was in knots so twisted that he felt the need to hug it for comfort.

“You see, I would have given anything for anyone to save me back then, but no one did.” Pollyanna murmured, cracking her knuckles with a stony face. “That’s why you’re so lucky to have me. You’ll never have to worry with me around. I’ll keep you safe.”

Eory looked at the back of her head—wondering what kind of expression she might be making—what she might be thinking. He realized, with his heart pounding, that she probably never said that to any of his ancestors—she probably didn’t have to, since most of them could take care of themselves. It was almost as if she were telling him she cared for him deeply with that sentence—that she would do for him what no one would do for her—not even the people who supposedly loved her.

“Do you say that to every member of my family?” Eory asked nervously.

There was a long pause.

“Just you.” She answered.

“Pollyanna.” Eory’s voice cut through the silence with surprising strength. “I don’t know if anyone ever told you this, but I’m truly sorry that happened to you. You deserved better.”

Pollyanna hung her head. “Why should you be sorry? It’s my own damned fault that I didn’t defend myself; if I deserved better, I would have gotten better.”

“What if… What if it were me in that situation? Would you say the same thing?” Eory asked.

Another long pause. Eory knew he caught her with that sentence.

Ashamedly, Pollyanna murmured, “Of course not. You have… You have been nothing but kind to me.”

“So you admit that having a good heart and being kind is worthwhile—worth the price of being saved from such an evil situation? And what of young Pollyanna? Why, in your eyes, did she have nothing to offer the world through her kindness?” Eory challenged her.

Pollyanna slammed her fist onto the ground.

“Kindness is a worthless thing!” She hissed. “You would not be in this fortress were it not for your own kindness in saving me! You would be free and living a happy life with your precious Kori! That is why kindness is worthless! It kills you faster than a knife through the heart!”

“Then why would you not wish me to be in the same situation you were in?” Eory challenged her.

“Because…!” Pollyanna spat. “Because even though it’s worthless, it can still be meaningful. It’s worthless because it gets you nothing valuable; it’s meaningful because it makes an impact on you. It’s as irrational as love itself! Let me tell you just how irrational it can be!”

She gathered her thoughts, trying to think of the best way to continue showing him through her story just how wrong he was about kindness.

Strength was the only way.

Pollyanna repeated her mantra in her mind:

I have no regrets. I got what I wanted.