Chapter 85: Book 4 Chapter 19: Who I Am

Joan couldn’t remember ever doing this, not as the Hero at least. The Hero hadn’t really been one for elaborate ceremony, kneeling before the queen was something he had stopped doing at all once it became clear she was going to hate him forever.

But now Joan was kneeling in front of the throne, both the king and queen staring at her. All five of the chosen with her. Bauteut was even sitting with them, though she was keeping as quiet as she could. There were no guards, no one else would intrude on this discussion.

Joan was safe. She knew she was safe. They couldn’t lay a finger on her even if they wanted to. Which, honestly, the queen likely wouldn’t. The king, on the other hand, just kept eyeing her suspiciously. She had managed to gather four of the chosen to join Hardwin, she didn’t know why he would want to worry about her.

At least, until now. It was finally time for them to learn who she was and why she was here. What her very existence now meant. She took another slow, deep breath. Queen Emeline had always been kind to her as Joan. So what were the chances that she would turn hostile now?

She told herself they were low. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to believe it. No matter how hard she tried, her legs kept shaking and she wanted to turn and run into the safety of the chosen. But no, she had made a promise to tell them everything. It would be up to them to decide what happened next. Even if they didn’t trust her, the chosen did and that was all that mattered.

So why couldn’t she shake off the feeling of fear and dread? It felt like it was going to overwhelm her, despite her attempts to stifle it. “So,” Joan said softly, trying to keep her tone as level as he could. “I told you I’d tell you who I was.”

“Indeed,” Emeline said.

“I take it you’re not the daughter of Hardwin, then?” Ulfraine asked.

“No,” Joan said.

“And I’d say it’s fair to say that everyone here, except for us, knows?” Emeline asked.

“Kind of,” Joan said. “I mean, Bauteut kind of spied on me at one point and found out when I was telling Searle, but other than that I told all of them.”

“But you didn’t feel confident telling us,” Ulfraine said, his tone accusatory.

“No, I didn’t,” Joan said. She knew she should get to her feet, but honestly she was scared if she did, she’d just fall over. Her legs felt so tired now.

“Joan, why are you so frightened?” Emeline asked. “Are you a threat to us? I find it hard to believe that Hardwin would have lied to me about who you were if you were.”

“No,” Joan said softly, trying to keep herself calm. She could almost feel it, though. The burning stakes. The noose. The executioner. All of the times that the queen had try to find a way, a reason, to execute her. To banish her. To drive her away. She tried to tell herself that it was then, this was now. They were literally different people now. Well, she was at least. “It’s not for that. I just need a moment.”

“Take your time,” Emeline said.

“I think more than enough time has been spared,” Ulfraine said coldly. “If everyone else knows, if you cannot tell us perhaps one of them should.”

“Ulfraine,” Emeline said in a soothing tone.

“It’s not that hard,” Korgron said loudly. “I don’t know why we all have to be here for this.”

Joan gulped, though she heard Searle hushing the demon princess. It probably was a waste of time. But she couldn’t do this without them being nearby and a part of her wanted to have them tell her highness. Unfortunately, she had to be the one to do it. Joan had to look at Queen Emeline when she found out and know how she’d react. She had to know if she was in danger or not.

Joan slowly lifted her head and took one last, slow breath. “I suppose I can start from the beginning. I am the Hero.”

“The hero of where?” Ulfraine asked, a little exasperation in his voice. “And what does that have to do with anything?”

“No, not A hero,” Joan said. “I am THE Hero, or at least was. The Hero of legend. He who stands with the chosen. Selected by the gods, wielder of the Star of the Hero.”

Ulfraine and Emeline were staring at her now. Neither making a sound. Unsurprisingly, Emeline was the first to react. She stood up and shook her head. “Joan, don’t speak such nonsense,” she said firmly. “You’re not the Hero. You can’t possibly be him. First, you’re a girl. The Hero has always been male. Second, I’ve seen the wounds you received. There’s no possible way you could be him.”

“That’s because the Hero, as he was known, is gone,” Joan said. “Possibly forever. I failed. Again and again. I failed. With each failure, each death, I was given another chance to come back by the Three Sisters. They could change a few things about me, but not everything. I had no idea that I had tried again and again. I didn’t know about my past failures.” She clenched her fists and slowly rose to her feet, staring up at Emeline. The look she was receiving back wasn’t one she expected. It was sad. Not confused, happy, worried or angry. It was saddened. “I died. Again and again and again. I failed over and over. Our world was damned, repeatedly, by my inability to fix things. I kept trying to find the right combination. The right order of events. I thought trying different weapons might help. Altering who I knew. How I knew things. Who taught me things. When I met certain people. How I met certain people. What I felt more of a pull towards in magic. If I enjoyed riding horses or hated it. I tried so many things. I failed. Each time, each way, it changed. But it was always the same.”

“Our world burned, it withered, it died,” Joan said, glancing between the king and queen for any sign they’d interrupt her, but they were silent and unmoving. “I tried to prevent it, I wasn’t enough. I failed, the chosen died, the Demon Lord was reborn and killed me. The gods were gone. We were alone, no new life, no returning hope. Nothing. It was all gone. I gave up. I saw no way to end the cycle, I didn’t believe I could. And so I begged the Three Sisters for another way. Some way to know all those things I didn’t know.”

“What I had to do was give up what it meant to be the Hero. My powers, my abilities. All of it. In return, I could retain all of my knowledge and skill,” Joan said. “I could keep my awareness of what would happen. Who the chosen were, where they were. I could change things by bringing all of us together and stopping the apocalypse before it happens. It’s not perfect, though. I can’t remember things, a lot of things. I’m not the Hero anymore, but I know all he knew. I no longer have a body capable of doing the techniques he knew. I can’t cast a fraction of the magic he could without nearly killing myself. On top of that, there is so much. So many tiny things, so many big things. I can’t keep all of it straight half the time. The journey of the Hero was constantly busy. For every threat that we stopped, two more took its place. We were constantly sent from one side of the kingdom to the other, always stopping whatever new monster awoke. I remember the biggest, most important things, but the little stuff keeps evading me and I am trying so hard to keep it stable.”

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“That is who I am,” Joan said, her eyes locked on Emeline now. “That is why I have to try so desperately to keep everything going. That is why I sometimes need to rush things and get them done, regardless of the consequences. It’s why I’m likely going to keep getting hurt. Because our world is on its way to complete destruction and if we don’t stop it, everything was for nothing. Everything dies. No second chances. No extra help. Our world ends. Forever.”

The room went entirely silent, the only sound Joan could hear no was her beating heart. She didn’t know how long she stood there, but finally Ulfraine cleared his throat. “And you all believe this tale?” he asked the chosen.

“She’s made a good argument for it,” Hardwin said.

“I know she’s not lying about this,” Searle said.

“It’s a lot easier to believe it than argue it at this point,” Andreas said.

“I’ve seen things that only the Hero could show me,” Korgron said with a shrug.

“Eh, she seems believable enough,” Thalgren said.

“Who would I be to argue with the chosen?” Bauteut asked.

Ulfraine gave another exhausted sigh and then closed his eyes and shook his head. That was a look she recognized far too often. He’d often looked like that in the past, when she was the Hero. Even if he looked so much younger and more able now, that look of exhaustion and stress washing over him was one she recognized so strongly.

Emeline, on the other hand, didn’t move much. Joan wished she could speak up, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. One of them had to break the silence, but she couldn’t bring herself to be that one.

“Is that why you are so scared of me?” Emeline asked.

“What?” Joan asked.

“The way you look at me, the way you flinch from me,” Emeline said. “You’re terrified of me. Is that why, because you are the Hero?”

“Yes,” Joan said.

“I see,” Emeline said before finally getting to her feet. “Hardwin?”

“Your highness?” Hardwin asked.

“I think it would be best if you were to take Joan to your home,” Emeline said. “Perhaps your mother can help keep her safe until the other chosen are gathered.”

“What?” Ulfraine asked. “Emeline, you can’t expect us to--”

“The chosen follow the Hero,” Emeline said, her voice cold and curt. The same tone Joan had so often seen aimed at her. “If they have accepted her as the Hero, then there is nothing more we can do but accept her as such as well. Hardwin, please take her and go.”

“What?” Hardwin asked.

“Hardwin,” Joan said quickly. “Please. Let’s go.”

Hardwin paused and looked between the two. The confusion obvious on his face, not that Joan could blame him.

A new life or not, it seemed that Emeline’s choice had long been made. While she may never truly understand what drove that wedge between Emeline and the Hero, it seemed it remained even in this new life.

Hopefully it wouldn’t get her killed.