He has no idea how wrong he is.

"What are you doing here?"

That was it, five very condescending words that jump started our so-called relationship. We never really talked. His arrogance, even in his silence, was too much for my equally bulged-up ego, so, we just sat there, the sound of paper burning as we each raced our way down our respective cigarettes.

"I'm sorry."

***

September 23, 2:37pm

"Seeing each other" would be an understatement. The dynamics of our affiliation would be more like, "sleeping with each other". We never really went out. Not that I was asking him to introduce me to the world, but I was (on the surface) contented of how we were... in bed. He'd invite me to visit one of his monthly presentations and art exhibits in the university but I never really had the time nor was I ever trying my best to find some.

All of that was until I saw his toothbrush on my bathroom sink, properly, almost intentionally, artistically laid there, next to mine, this morning. And then there it was, those tiny volts of electric shock shooting from all over my fingers. I skimmed over my dresser and found that he had stocked his boxers, 2 pair of jeans and a few more shirts on my once-empty drawer.

I've known men just like him from way way before. Not that I've been with every men in the metro, but, he wasn't much for analyzing. Dense, immature, sometimes childish. The perfect reflection of how I have tried my very best to be like.

How we met was far from romantic at all. It was the very epitome of a one-night-stand. The kind where it happens almost every Saturday and then when everything else has been gradually established that it would be nothing more than a quick morning round or a late night surprise, he'd eventually, almost discreetly, move in with me.

We've been at this for almost 7 months now. None of us (at least from my POV) ever realizing that it has been this long.

***

September 23, 6:21am

The faint click from a distance signaled his arrival. Very soon, the showers would be turned on and then he'd snuggle himself into the-

"Good Morning." He suddenly whispers into my ear, an arm snaking its way inside my shirt around my hips.

I groaned, pretending that he had just woke me.

"Have you showered yet?" I asked, rather rhetorically.

"The shower can wait." And even with my back against him, I could see it, the very smile that I've only seen on his face whenever we were about to do it, sometimes after. And one time, just once, when he took me to his dad's ancestral home south outside the city. While we were taking turns dragging my last cigarette, he told me he'd never been as happy as he was at that time. I stared at him staring at the blank twilight of dusk and just as I turned my head to face the coming evening, he smiled at me and even in periphery, I somehow knew why he was happy.

***

September 23, 7:09pm

"9PM?" In an almost whisper as he walked out the door on his way to the exhibit.

I nodded. Not one of us ever discussed as to what might happen tonight.

"It's no big deal." Irrationally comforting myself.

Sonny, my ex(-fiance), was in the same arts scene as he was. Not that he ever explicitly showed up any pent-up emotions whatsoever towards Sonny, it's just that not a lot of people knew our story, Sonny and I. My engagement with Sonny ended way after I met him but the length of Sonny and I's relationship was reason enough why not a lot of  guys from their circle could ever understand how we ended up... together.

We never talked about it though, him  and I. I just hope it would continue ever after tonight.

***

September 24,5:53am

"What are you doing here?"

That was it, five very condescending words that jump started our so-called relationship. We never really talked. His arrogance, even in his silence, was too much for my equally bulged-up ego, so, we just sat there, the sound of paper burning as we each raced our way down our respective cigarettes.

"I'm sorry."

I was always into counting apologies. This was the very first time he asked for mine. Normally I'd, inadvertently, nod as an acknowledgement. I was so used of being apologized to that I'd automatically accept it with the highest degree of ambivalence. But tonight, technically, this morning, I couldn't nod at his.

He had just caused a minor scene back the exhibit when he heard a rather insulting statement from Sonny as we exited the studio on our way home. "I'll give them 6 months. Nobody can ever love that woman the way I did." And then everything else happened so fast that the next thing I remembered was staring at his face, Jon's. Sonny, who was by then bleeding the rest of his broken nose out, was behind me screaming atrocities that I swear I could not filter into memory. But I was right there staring at Jon staring at me, my mind blank for whatever kind of expression. "He has no idea how wrong he is."  were the only words I could remember Jon say as I walked passed him for home.

"What are you doing here, Jon?" I asked again.

"You know why I'm here." He starts, putting off his smoke, the tone of his voice unchanging.

I knew. Of course I did. And then as he, ever-so-slowly, scooted his was closer to me until our arms brushed, he continues.

"I'm not a nobody."

"A what?"

"Your ex, he said nobody can ever love you-"

"He has no idea how wrong he is." I smiled, breaking him off.

And then he smiles at me, that same smile that only happens when we were about to do it, sometimes after and that one time in the province. 

Dragon Poppy Splinters

He was pacing down the alley. The sound of cans slightly rolling on the pavement was his hymn. This was not part of the plan, the sinister in him whispered, putting on the jacket she'd just worn not 2 minutes ago. He shouldn't have initiated the contact. He knew this was going to happen. He knew. The slightest moves of minuscule raw emotions were thoroughly calculated during nights when his lucidity was but a fragment of an untamed mind under the influence of his favorite downer. 

Downer? Yeah right! In fact, he hasn't been, how do they call it?, stoned since his first try some 7 years ago. That familiar feel of the dragon poppy splinters boiling every part of his body. No. But those eyes. They make every known opiate seem like a regular ant bite. Her eyes. 

I can't do this! This was never part of the plan! Then he faltered. 

What originally started as an introverted bet, a passing for boredom, *FvCK!*, a curious case of insanity snowballed into... "I'm fvcked!". He cursed, his 87th since he walked her to the shared apartment she had with the youngest Weaslette, some four minutes ago. 

He thought of doing some more calculation to eradicate this growing how do I call this? Infatuation, he thought, while pausing his pace to welcome the warmth of the first morning light. "You know what I like about sunsets?", he remembered her say not 12 hours ago. "...they always seem to tell me that there's always a sunrise somewhere else". Oh well. He shrugged and continued walking. The platinum strands on his head swaying softly with the zephyr winds. 

His hand fisted inside his jacket. His jacket that somehow still smelled like her. "Infatuation" he scoffed and in that insignificant second... I don't mind her leaving her scent on any of my articles of clothing. In fact, I don't mind at all...

Original post is on my tumblr page. Above post has been edited.

Diary of Princess Twin-bun.

Entry # 48:

That insufferable sagged-face emperor was in the news again today. Their so-called clone army has reached even the farthest planets in the galactic republic. The whole news seemed very alarming to my my dad and his advisers. I had to see my father leave home. I really have no idea where he flies off to during crises like these, but, being a senator and all, I think he is needed somewhere else. I miss him though. I can't imagine leaving my home any time soon. Alderaan has always been home. I think I'll stay here forever. 

Entry # 56:

It's been about three weeks since I last saw my father.  I've been sleeping in my parent's chambers since father's departure. I can tell my mom misses him terribly. I told her we could visit Coruscant but she said the capital isn't safe anymore. They say there's a war coming but I think I'm too young to understand that. I'll be turning twelve in two days and I have finally convinced mother to cancel the feast that she's been planning on that day. I guess the best gift from my parents this year is to have the three of us together, perhaps on a vacation... and probably to have R2 repaired... again... :)

Entry # 271:

Dad's good friend Captain Brando Calrissian died today. I was not allowed to travel with mother and father to Cloud City for the funeral. The good captain is survived by his only son, (and now orphan) Lando. Though I haven't met Lando, who probably has the same age as mine, my sincerest condolences are with him. Somehow I know what it feels like being an orphan. That very fact was never hidden from me since my childhood. But I am so blessed to have been raised as an Organa. Mother and father has loved me much like their very own. I miss them now. I hope they'll be safe. And for the Cpt. Calrissian, I hope the force would lead his spirit to safety and eternal bliss.

I remember Captain Calrissian, during his visits when I was younger, narrate a seemingly familiar story of a Queen falling in-love with a peasant. I couldn't recall the whole story but I remember it being a tragedy. The Jedi temple in Coruscant that I always hear about was said to have been sacked by the peasant-turned-Jedi. The beautiful queen died of a broken heart. And the peasant-turned-Jedi-turned-Sith? It is said that he still alive until today, hiding in a cape and mask made of guilt, taking orders blindly by megalomania and greed. Poor guy.

Howls of Winter

Storm winds slither into the windowsills. Mordecai, my brother's golden retriever, has been howling at the zephyrs since dusk, this old town just got a notch higher to creepy, I internally debate, lighting perhaps the only lantern in the cabin's hallway.

"Suddenly feels like one of those screamer scenes from a slasher movie, eh?" Gab, our cousin from Michigan, announced at the dinner table, lighting perhaps his 20th reefer roll since we arrived this morning.

This whole summer camp cabin in the woods weekend was my dad's idea, he said kids today will never appreciate the countryside since the advent of the web and gadgets. We were in Nazca that time. Nazca, the cradle of ancient alien encounter myths and all my brother had to say was "So much for mythology. The only myth here is a WIFI connection and a clear 3G reception." Sure I gave out a slight chuckle but I wasn't entirely sharing his sentiment. I loved the place, no matter how that Tsoukalos guy (despite his ridiculously f*cked up hair-do) and his literally "out-of-this-world" ancient alien doctrines try to debate its eccentricities. 

A loud thud on the roof broke my thoughts. Everyone practically jumped from their seats, except for Jo who was sleeping on Faye's snuggie on the floor. My ears rang from Val's wailing shriek.

"I think we should check what that was." Really? Super storm raging outside and all I could suggest was...

"There's a torch light behind the cupboard, we'll check it out together." Sid, the oldest in the group, ordered.

"Great! Just great. I picked the perfect day to quit drinking..." In an almost-whisper, my brother swore from behind.

TBC...

Fire from the East (2)

click here for Fire from the East (1)

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"What message from your Queen?" I remember him ask. His back firm from my vantage.

"I am not here to send a message." My courage oozing like fire from a blacksmith's cottage. His minions scoff from behind as if marveling at his divine splendor over my weakened posture. I was just a dagger toss away from pinning revenge on Al Rodog's chest. Death will surely welcome me once I did but death I will welcome just so I could avenge Lerion's demise.

Pride, my dear Myne. I could hear my father whispering in my ear. Pride will lose you battles. Lerion's lust for victory and pride has always been his downfall. I couldn't let the same be mine.

"Then perhaps you can send your majesty a message for me." The Al added, now facing for familiarity, pacing ever careful steps towards me. For a moment there I was an ounce close to accepting decapitation. Only a true phoenix is ever capable of taming the flame. And like the zephyr itself, Al Rogod unsheathed his sword with a light swift of hand. I blink and for that very second, I could feel death, reaching for my neck, calling me as if it was home.

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I haven't heard from my people in months. Could they have retreated back East, I don't know. General Bulsagad has always been adamant to retreat. But news of apparent disappearance of my camps have left me a pint close to hopeless. I have always trusted my people, I could not give up on them now.

The sun has left its last light from dusk when I heard a knock on the door. 

"My lady, dinner has been sent from the Al". A familiar voice informed, as if in a whisper, from behind.

"Thank you, Marieta." My usual reply.

The tray was already laid on the only wooden table in the cell when Marieta added, "The Al wanted you to know that the message has been sent to your people. Though no response have been confirmed, he still does not think your Queen has retreated." Sigh.

"Thank you, Marieta."

"I have no say in this war, my lady, but if you..."

"I doesn't matter. The war has been on since my birth. My Queen will never retreat, tell him that. And that if he as much as think that my Queen will, then his demise will be met in another way. Leave me, Marieta. Please."

She gave me a slight genuflect for eventual departure. 

The zephyrs roared like war horns from the south. Like the war that has been on since my birth, the winds bore piercing bellows from my window. The moment my generals receive the Al's message, I know they'll imbue selfless commitment to victory. A mere wad of my hair does not define power from the enemy. For if it was much as a finger from my metacarpals or an ear to signal the absence of peace negotiations, I know my people will not give up and back down. 

We will win this war and if my army cannot do it in extramural, I will, by the blood of my forefathers, do it from inside.

Only a true phoenix is ever capable of taming the flame. 

Fire from the East

Only a true phoenix is ever capable of taming the flame.

The prophecy. Those were the very words my late brother whispered unto my ears before the darkness took him. The feel of his warm breath still sends shivers up my spine even in memory. A true warrior he was. He led our people at a very young age of 16. A true King. But he was no flame tamer. He had the temper of a teaspoon. His bipolar eccentricities were his only flaws. He led our people, fought countless battles. But just hours before he died, the enemy continued forging their way from the South. 

The Wildlings, our generals call them. A dominion of godless, merciless, spineless horde who once, collectively, dwelt among the forest of the vast Southern lands. It is said that to date, 5 years after Lerion's death, the wildlings have doubled their army. That the best we could do was not only to recruit and train boys of the fighting age of 16 but to build a fortress. A dozen league high wall with almost the same in width. That there is no hope for us when the beasts invade. 

This is cowardice! Every inch of me bellowed. 

This was not the same mentality my late brother has instilled upon our people. My brother was our strength. He was my strength. But he is not with us now. It has been as such for half a decade. 

When the throne was passed, it came to me as a burden more than a gift. At the age of 18, I knew nothing about leading a city or war or life. But the years have scrapped every part of soul and it has taught me that war does not eradicate cowardice nor does it build up strength. War numbs you. Every part of your viscera. That sometimes death does not need blood be split but it always needs souls be emptied.

I have seen the faces of war. For years I have protected my people as an act of promise to the rulers before me. I have killed countless men, soldiers and I have died everyday since then. Five years I have led my soldiers against these so-called Wildings. The strongest armor, the sharpest swords, the thickest shield and the fastest horse were all my glamour. My true identity unknown.

I have won battles, never lost, but everyday has been defeat. There was no other way to destroy the enemy. The enemy that we've yet to see. Al Rodog.

At the age of 23, I sit on a throne paved with the purest of gold. At the age of 23, I have led battalions upon battalions of soldiers outside our city walls for battle. At the age of 23, I have been fighting a century old war with a nomad enemy who, despite having lost hundreds of men in every battles, are still growing in numbers. 

The whole "Phoenix" prophecy should be deemed fallacious...

"BRING THE PRISONER!"

The locks on my cell chimed. It has been a week since I last saw the outside of my prison walls.

"Al Rodog will see you now." A stout bearded man, with an usual set of spectacles, stood at the door. On his left arm clung the keys to General Unin's cell.

"Now now. You mustn't think daft thoughts. You two will never make it out of here alive." He scoffed. "Name's Domeo. And I assure you if you will just cooperate, unlike the previous days, you might probably have the chance to negotiate with the Al. That's why you were sent here right? To negotiate?"

He led me out into what looked like their fortress' dungeon prison cells. The smell of dead rats reeking through every walls.

"Where are the other prisoners?" I queried.

"The Al does not take prisoners. Saves him the time and effort to transport them here".

Murderous bastard. I shouted mentally but then I reckoned, weren't we all?

The walk out the dungeon then led us to the training field (one that was twice the size as ours in the city) , across was the a rather aesthetically odd tent. I imagine this is where Al Rodog stays but Domeo took a detour to the left towards the south wing of the whole fortress. And alas, at the end of the seemingly cold corridor lies the gates of my very doom. Two colossal doors opened and with my last step I entered the hall of my final judgement. 

For the first time since my brother died, I was afraid.

In the middle of the room stood the bane of my family's existence. His back against the court, his very presence excruciating. I could very well destroy him with just an abrupt toss of a sword. Just one strong dart despite the chains on my wrists. Just. One. Swift. Thro...

"What message from your Queen?" He began.

Then, it dawned upon me. 

He too does not know his enemy...

I am Simbelmyne Helios, Queen of the Eastern Kingdoms of Bellan. Only daughter of the great King Eodor and sister of the late King Lerion. For centuries a war has been upon our kingdom from a once unknown enemy. Whispers of a prophecy has been going around for decades, the same prophecy that is thought to destroy this enemy. Only a true phoenix is ever capable of taming the flame.

I am Simbelmyne Queen of Bellan's Eastern Kingdoms and I am the last of the lineage of the Phoenix...