I have to do what I must do.
I touch my lip, acknowledging my carelessness.
To say those words, after all he's done for me. I had never seen that expression on him before.
I glance at my hands, squeezing them tightly.
Marco's past, what I saw, was certainly horrible. The things I always wanted to know, the stories he omitted. The things he had to endure, what I barely glimpsed.
Marco and I are so alike; yet it truly hurts in my heart. I am so weak, despite wanting to grow or mature, as Marco always says. I remain the same child as always, trapped between walls that exhale a dusty scent seeping into my senses.
My gaze explores the surroundings, revealing the cold, dry walls that surround me, an unforgiving environment that grants no respite. I must face this challenge if I want to free the people from this place, if I long to escape from this prison that traps not only my body but also my soul.
However, a shadow of doubt looms over me. I lean forward, feeling my body tremble, not only from the cold of the walls, but from the memory that threatens to tear my being apart.
It's not just a memory, but Marco's emotions, his desires, which have been locked inside me, freezing me in a tide of feelings not fully experienced. Marco endured it, witnessed every detail before his eyes, and now I am faced with the task of deceiving myself.
I try to dry my tears, but the feeling of futility envelops me relentlessly. Despite my efforts, I feel powerless. Puck had to leave, and Betty, on death's door, is a grim reminder of life's fragility.
Marco, apparently, has surrendered to despair, giving up not only to the world around him, but to myself as well.
"You said you wouldn't give up," I mutter, my eyes fixed on the ground as raindrops fall mercilessly. I only know how to cry, to wait, and to cling to the illusory belief that, through my effort, something will change.
I feel lost, unsure of how to face these emotions that threaten to devour me. I rise with determination, leaving behind the sanctuary that has become both my refuge and my condemnation.
I know I must do something, confront the darkness that looms over me. Yes, as he once urged me to do.
"I have to do what I must do," I say, shielding my eyes from the harsh sunlight. I have the day to prepare, and in the night, I must face the trial that awaits like a hungry monster.
Otto greets me, but I choose to ignore him, aware that my attitude shouldn't be like this. However, in my internal struggle, the outside world fades away.
I know I should appear cheerful. Sometimes I wonder what would become of me if I hadn't taken Marco's hand, if ignorance were a better choice. I wonder if happiness lies in the unconsciousness of what awaits in the future.
These are reflections my past self would have never imagined, thoughts that wouldn't have even crossed my mind. I realize that my past self no longer exists, now that I know the stories and lives of the people, now that I know they need me, now that I understand I must be the pillar for those who require it.
However, despite it all, I persist in my weakness, still being that girl trapped behind the glass. My heart aches, and despite my efforts, all I can do is cry.
Just when I need to support others, I feel powerless. I close the door of my room with a lock and throw myself onto the bed.
I feel the softness of the mattress, as if it's trying to absorb my soul completely. I grip the sheets tightly, trembling.
I close my eyes, trying to contain the flow of tears.
"You must be strong, Emilia," I say, squeezing my eyes shut tighter, struggling to maintain composure. Yes, that's what I must do.
I can't afford to show weakness, I can't go on like this. I want, I WISH to be strong as he has taught me. I have tried to emulate him; I have witnessed his suffering and his ability to endure it all on his own.
Since I met him, my deepest desire has been to attain the strength he personifies. The Emilia who existed before his arrival was not fit to assume the throne, but now, I can even look at myself in the mirror without feeling disgust.
I've learned to admire my own features and accept myself. I've developed the ability to connect with many people, I've known the life and love of many individuals.
"Betty..." I falter, tears welling up uncontrollably. I didn't want this to happen, all because I wanted to instill a change, to be myself. Without me, perhaps these horrible events wouldn't have occurred. So many people have died, so many lives lost because of my decisions.
Even though it was the only option, I know, Otto told me once.
"If we don't have the war, not only will everything built collapse, but all the people will be sacrificed for others' interests."
'I know, but... Isn't that what happened?' The demihumans who entered the war were transformed into those abominations. It was a complete massacre, relentless, for both us and the innocents.
I cover my face, trying to hide from the world.
"I...," my voice breaks as I try to ask for help. "Puck..."
I miss him, I know he kept things from me, but he was always there for me.
"Mother Fortune." She was my light, the person I love most along with Puck. "Father Guise."
I saw you die; I saw you die when your soul was consumed. I saw you die when Marco took your life. I know you were suffering, that you wished to depart. But I wanted to be able to talk to you even if it was for the last time.
"Ugh..." I can't stop crying, I can't, even if I want to. When I faced everyone, when I was able to protect them against the great whale, when we had that celebration; I felt alive, I felt like I was finally doing something.
Knock, knock! The sound of the door stops my sobbing.
I try to clean myself up, but the tears keep flowing. If I speak, they'll realize I'm crying. I don't want that; if the townsfolk or those who rely on me notice, I'll be a load again.
"It's me," Crusch speaks through the door.
I see, I suppose she realized everything. 'Did she talk to Marco?'
"C-come in." I wipe my face, trying not to look so bad. I remember the door was locked, so I force myself to get up. I feel heavy, all the weight of responsibility now falls on me.
'Is this what I'm to carry always?' This weight, these nauseating feelings. The memories of what happened, their emotions, their thoughts. He bears all of that, while feeling the weight of his decisions.
The weight of decisions and the echo of memories torment my mind, like dancing shadows in a forgotten corner.
I delve into my thoughts, trying to drown out the whisper of despair that looms over me. I close my eyes and feel the cold touch of reality, a relentless reminder of the choices I've made and the consequences I carry.
The room becomes a reflection of my soul, a place where light barely dares to penetrate. I confront its ghosts, the burden of a past that clings to my being like an inescapable shadow.
Tears stream down my cheeks, silent witnesses to the sadness nesting deep within my heart. How have I come to this point, where hope seems like a distant flicker in the shadow of desolation?
I take a deep breath, trying to contain the emotional storm threatening to overflow. My hands anxiously search for an invisible support in the air, an answer slipping through my fingers like the smoke of a fleeting dream.
In the silence, I hear the muted beating of my own being, a melancholic melody echoing in the darkness of my soul. The weight of responsibility burdens my shoulders.
I've faced so many trials, but this emotional burden seems to surpass my limits, leaving me vulnerable in a sea of uncertainty.
My trembling hands seek the courage to open the door separating my solitude from the outside world. As I do, I find Crusch, her expression reflecting concern and sorrow.
What secrets does her heart hold?
"May I come in?" Her words resonate like an echo of compassion, and I silently nod, allowing the dimness of my room to embrace her presence as well.
Crusch, despite having brushed with death, forges ahead with a strength I silently admire. Yet, my trust in her wavers when she utters the dreaded word:
"The trial..."
My now restless hands mirror the storm raging within me. Blood seems to drain from my face, leaving me pale before the revelation about to unfold.
I move cautiously to the bed, avoiding eye contact, as if I could conceal the emotional scars bearing my name.
"What did you see in that trial? You once talked about yourself, but I know you would've overcome it," she asks, and in her voice, I can feel the concern she holds. I keep my head low as I hear her steps approaching me.
Crusch sits beside me, and in her eyes, I discover the quest for answers that I do not possess.
'Should I trust her with what I saw at the trial?'
How can I convey the despair, the pain, and the sadness that haunt me without betraying Marco's trust?
"Does it have to do with Marco?" Her question surprises me, and I open my eyes, meeting her gaze directly.
I nod with a gesture that reveals more than I'm willing to say with words.
My ragged breath struggles to find calm, but in the ensuing silence, tears threaten to overflow, like a river finding its course after a storm.
Crusch delicately places her hand on my back, beginning to stroke it gently, a gesture of comfort that I can barely feel on the brink of collapse.
"I... spoke with him." Her words make my heart pound hard, feeling a stab that takes the air from my lungs. She probably supported Marco with the words I told her, bringing back his memories.
"Y- You know then..." My voice, broken by sadness, barely manages to articulate the words. The confirmation is evident in Crusch's gesture, who lightly bites her lip, reflecting her concern and, perhaps, disappointment.
"It seems like he's given up, like he doesn't want to do anything anymore." Her words resonate like a lament in the solitude of my room. "I tried talking to him, but I think I made things worse."
The sigh that escapes Crusch's lips seems to carry the weight of our own frustrations. Disappointment looms between us, a shadow threatening to engulf any glimmer of hope.
"Can't you trust me?" Crusch's question, direct and piercing, pierces me like an arrow. I fear hurting the trust that binds us, but I also want to respect Marco.
"Yes, I trust you." I take her shoulders, seeking her gaze with determination. "I do, but what I saw..."
Crusch seems surprised by my gesture, as if this act of openness were uncharted territory between us. But there are secrets that weigh more than loyalty, and I have to share the burden threatening to overwhelm me.
"I know the trial is about the past, but that's precisely why I don't understand." Her eyes penetrate the depths of my being. "I don't understand how you..."
"Marco! Marco's past!" The words burst from me, a desperate cry that unleashes the flood of contained tears.
Crusch envelops me in a comforting hug, allowing the truth to flow along with my tears.
"Otto had told me there was something strange, but with that and what Marco said, I think I understand everything now." Crusch strokes my hair gently, while my despair finds refuge in her arms.
"Marco... he, I don't even know how he's standing." I confess between sobs, feeling Crusch's embrace like an anchor in the midst of the storm. "Crusch, he..."
She stops her caresses, but her embrace intensifies. It's a silent strength, an echo of Marco's spirit that she also shares. Both always remain strong, no matter the situation.
Although Marco...
"He's always been like that, enduring everything and moving forward. Meanwhile, I... I try, I try to adopt that attitude like you all do. When people come with problems, I always try to help whoever needs it." My words slip between sobs, revealing the gap I feel between my longing for strength and my own fragility.
That's why I study, why I immerse myself in medicine, because it's my refuge, my way to understand and relieve the suffering of others.
Amidst sobs, I confess to Crusch the terrible truth: I've said horrible things to Marco, and I feel like I've ruined everything.
His image, hammered and defeated, projects in my mind, and the weight of Betty's loss mixes with the torment of knowing his past.
"I said horrible things to Marco, he realized I saw his past, and that's why now..." My words falter, choked by the lump in my throat. "Now I've ruined it!"
Crusch envelops me in her compassionate embrace, holding me as I dissolve into tears. Betty's loss intertwines with the understanding of what Marco has suffered, and the anguish consumes me.
"We just lost Betty! I know how important she is to him!" I express amidst sobs, the urgency to help Marco pulsating in every word. "It hurts me too, when I found out I felt like the world was disappearing. Then I saw Marco, smiling at me despite everything, and I couldn't do anything, I couldn't say anything."
Tears flow forcefully, feeling my whole-body ache, my whole body burning. I feel like everything is slowly crumbling, and I can't do anything to fix it.
"I love Betty very much, but I can't be weak now." I press my lips together, feeling the weight in my entire body. Now, more than ever, I want to free his burden, to be the support he needs.
My tears are a torrent, and Crusch, with her patience and tenderness, continues to stroke my head, offering comfort amidst the emotional storm.
"I want to help him!" I exclaim with a heavy heart, feeling like a crucial part of me fades away with the burden that Marco carries.
I wanted to be strong, to hide my sadness when he spoke to me of Betty, but seeing his defeated smiling face, I was confronted with the reality of his suffering. I wanted him to open up, to find solace in my company.
But now I face the reality of not knowing how to help.
"Marco doesn't blame you for anything." Crusch's serene words try to calm my agitation. "You know, doing these kinds of things was unthinkable for me."
I look at her through tears, her vision distorted by pain and confusion. Crusch, with her hand, gently wipes my tears, but they persist in flowing.
"I thought showing affection or love was a sign of weakness, a way of saying that people couldn't handle things." Crusch smiles weakly, sharing a fragment of her own story. "I always thought all that would make me look weak. That it would make people underestimate me and not take me seriously."
Crusch's revelation, a strong and resilient woman, surprises me.
'Did she also have to struggle with vulnerability?'
Did Crusch have those thoughts? Then, every time we played or went out to have fun... Was she thinking about it?
"But it was only at the beginning, it's something I haven't told anyone." She winks weakly at me. "But, thanks to you all, I've realized that affection is, on the contrary, a sign of strength."
Her words surprise me, and my attempt to contain the sobs and the breath is overwhelmed by emotion. However, she doesn't seem to mind my emotional outburst.
"I didn't mind displays of affection towards me, but I never gave those displays to others." She takes my cheek, drying my tears with tenderness. "But being with you all, seeing how you approached people, how you progressed and became stronger."
I am surprised by her words, containing my sobs in small breaths, as well as trying to stop my tears as I look into her eyes.
How did I perceive those interactions? Was I a bother to her with my need for affection?
However, his expression and gesture indicate otherwise.
"I managed to see that I was misunderstanding it all my life. Showing seriousness, showing formality, showing oneself as someone who doesn't show affection or someone who looks imposing is easy."
I shake my head, assimilating his words.
For me, showing seriousness and formality was never easy; I always tried, but despite that, I couldn't improve, I couldn't change. Crusch smiles at my denial, but there's something in her gaze that I don't quite understand.
"It's easy to appear serious and cold, believe me, it's the easiest thing in the world," she sighs, intertwining her hands with mine. "But, what's really difficult is to be a light for others."
"To be a light for others..." I've really tried it, and I think my efforts have borne fruit little by little. However, I can't be a light like Marco, or I can't be a light as firm as all my friends are.
Crusch stands up, heading towards the exit, and I follow her movements with my gaze.
"You're seeing things wrong, Emilia," she says as she leans a little towards me from the door.
"What do you mean by that?" I ask her, trying to understand her words.
She opens the door and looks outside with a clear and warm smile that has always seemed beautiful to me.
"In order to show affection, to be able to smile and approach others, to be able to be a warm light in every heart," Crusch continues, as she observes the horizon. "To be able to give affection truly, you first need to be strong, not let yourself be carried away by sadness, not let yourself be carried away by anger, not let yourself be carried away by negative emotions."
I stand up, trying to reach her, but she stops me with a gesture of her hand.
Her words resonate within me, and I ponder what I must do now. I really don't know what to say, I don't know what to do. If I want to be a light, I must control the emotional void within me.
"How do I overcome that pain?" What Marco experienced, there's no way I can bear those emotions.
"You should rest, get ready for the night," she closes her eyes and shows one last smile before closing the door and leaving me alone.
Silence remains, a silence that hangs over me like a shadow.
I gaze at the roof, trying to find answers in the shapes and contours drawn in the darkness. Once again, it seems that loneliness becomes my only company, and the feeling of helplessness threatens to drown me.
I have to find an answer.
I lie back on the bed, lost in turbulent thoughts. I thought that venting from time to time, acting and then freeing myself would be enough. It's what I had learned, but now I feel like I'm paying the consequences.
My body sends me signals, asking for a change.
I, Emilia, must understand it.
I must reconcile what should be with what I am. 'Is there a way to merge both without losing myself in the process?'
My thoughts wander in search of a solution that doesn't cause me that feeling of loss that I fear so much.
'Betty, Puck... What should I do?'
It's not time to worry about others' expectations. I must seek the answer for myself.
In less than a year, I've lived more than I ever imagined. I've witnessed extraordinary events, but I've also faced challenges that have pushed me to the limit. Now, I must learn from those experiences, find answers, and achieve the inner peace I so desperately crave.
Yes, now that I can look at myself without disgust, now that I've learned to appreciate myself, I must learn from the good and the bad to keep growing.
But how do I do it?
I know I want to be better, but my heart and my mind seem to be in conflict. Marco has taught me that the body resists change, that I must be strong and persist.
However, Crusch's words present a different perspective.
Who is right?
I open my eyes and find myself in the dimness. The sunlight has disappeared, plunging me into the tranquility of the night.
Did I fall asleep?
I sit up in bed, feeling the weight of the mattress trying to seduce me to stay lying down.
"I must do it, for Marco. If I want to understand him, if I want to help him." I observe my hands, trembling with fear of reliving that torment.
The old Emilia would have given up, would have succumbed to despair, but I, now I am different. I am stronger, I can face it.
I clench my hands, seeking strength.
I clean my face in the bathroom, facing the reflection in the mirror and adjusting my hair. I can help, I can be a support, but my heart hurts.
"Betty... If you were here, everything would be easier. I miss you. You were my confidant, like a sister."
I wish I had talked to you earlier, when I was afraid to do so, when I thought you were okay like that. But now, that I was being happy with you, you are in danger.
I look at myself in the mirror, trying to force a smile.
My hands only reveal slight dark circles, something I always believed impossible in my race. Roswaal and Betty told me, but now, I feel a strange discomfort.
I leave the bathroom and head towards the trials. At the exit of the house, I encounter Ram. She looks at the sky, lost in her thoughts.
"Ram?" I approach slowly, intrigued by her behavior.
Ram doesn't respond, as if she were being hypnotized by the majesty of the firmament. I still have time, so it shouldn't be a problem.
I gently touch Ram's shoulder, and she turns towards me, surprised.
"Are you okay?" My intrigue grows, as her eyes seem crystalline. "Ram, on the verge of tears?"
What's happening?
I think she also knows things that I'm unaware of, things involving Roswaal, as well as Marco.
I know they both have clashes all the time, and Marco in particular seems to hate him completely. Although Roswaal is someone mysterious, he has always supported me, but Puck, Marco, and even Betty distrusts him.
When I asked, they refused to provide me with evidence or tell me anything.
Ram bows deeply, without saying another word, and begins to withdraw.
"Ram." I grab her arm, making her stop.
Ram is surprised, turning only for tears to fall from her eyes. Unintentionally, I release her arm.
"I'm sorry, Miss Emilia, but I would like to be alone at this moment." Ram walks away, entering the house.
They're hiding things from me, to protect me, to keep me this way. I want to help; I want to do something for everyone. 'But how am I going to do it if they can't trust me?'
If there's one thing I've learned, it's that trust is earned, yes, but it also depends on the other person's decision to trust or not. I had never seen Ram cry, but something tells me it has to do with him.
I'm scared, that's the right word.
I'm afraid to confront others. I thought I was firm, but somehow now that I know more about what my words can do, I'm afraid of making mistakes when trying to help.
I look at the sky, trying to calm my heart, racing and weak. I feel like I'm going to have a heart attack at any moment. My eyes weigh heavy, my steps hurt.
I feel tired, tired of everything.
When I reach the tomb, I see no one, as if they already knew the outcome. I close my eyes for a few seconds, praying to the spirits for mental strength.
"Please, I know I'm reckless and childish, but... let me help those in front of me."
As I open them, I continue my step, accompanied by the stars and solitude.
The room lights up with a dazzling glow, an incandescent light that threatens to take my breath away. Every step becomes a challenge, the burden of tiredness weighing on my shoulders, but despite the temptation to rest, I keep moving forward.
It's necessary, indispensable, even though the desire for rest echoes in my thoughts.
My restless eyes scan the room for balance, while determination drives me forward. I want to rest, but I know that only by facing this challenge will I be able to provide the necessary help, even if that help is unwelcome.
Finally, I settle into the main hall and close my eyes, preparing for what's to come. In silence, I await the whisper of the past, the revelation of secrets buried in the shadows of time.
"Echidna, show me again, Marco's past," I say with determination, seeking answers in the depths of memory.
Then, an ethereal voice resonates in the air, like a whispering echo ready to unveil hidden mysteries.
"Fu, fu. I'll gladly do it."