Days passed, turning into weeks. Smalls was allowed off the crutches around a two weeks after the incident with Helmer, and a few days after that was feeling almost completely back to normal. He saw a lot of Evan but had yet to convince him to confess his courtship to Wilfred, which was definitely a slowly ticking time bomb that was going to erupt into a huge disaster at any minute. He talked with Picket a few times, and their conversations remained cordial if not necessarily friendly. Kyle continued to pop up in strange places, but Smalls was doubtful he was anything more than a careless, reckless, over-confident buck whose curiosity had gotten the better of him. But it was annoying.

He avoided Heather, in constant turmoil about his feelings and the desire to be around her. Evan though it was hilarious. Wilfred tried to talk to him about it a few times, but Smalls artfully dodged each of his questions each time and diverted him away from the subject.

Tension was rising, more citadels arriving by the day. The village Green was a constant buzz of activity, and nowhere was quiet and everywhere was packed. Aside from some trouble with Captain Frye from Halfwind, however, there hadn’t been any truly aggressive behavior. Frye had been expected anyway, but that didn’t stop Smalls from wanting to punch the older rabbit’s teeth out simply to shut him up. (Not that he was going to…..)

“Maybe a trial would help.” Wilfred said one evening, while he and Smalls were sitting in the library while Smalls was (unfortunately) studying calculus.

Smalls looked up, surprised, “Why do you say that?”

“If I was found innocent, maybe the aggression would stop.”

Smalls had hard time believing that they would be able to find a jury that unprejudiced or that the hostility would halt solely because of that. Truthfully, the antagonism wouldn’t really stop until someone with the power to pardon him fully actually said something. Someday…...“It wouldn’t stop the hatred.” Smalls said. “Hatred isn’t rational.”

“Perhaps not.” Wilfred said thoughtfully. “But it might aid in clearing Heather and Picket’s names. They don’t deserve to bear any shame or guilt for what happened. And you certainly don’t deserve the rumors or aggression.”

Smalls still shook his head. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. Where would you find a jury that impartial? It would take months. And anyways-you don’t need a trial. You’re innocent of it and no judge needs to say so for it to be true.”

“No one was innocent, lad.” Wilfred said sadly. “Everyone had a hand. When your father fell it wasn’t just the death of our king, it was the death of our way of life.” He sat back, shaking his head. “That’s what people really miss, what he represented. No, there is guilt to be held by all parties, but especially by me.”

Smalls returned his gaze to his textbook, but felt the heartache welling up inside of him again. Why is it we must lose everything?

“You’re ridiculous.” Evan said, interrupting Smalls from his study. Wilfred startled; he’d fallen asleep about half an hour before. He squinted at Evan, decided that he wasn’t a threat, and closed his eyes again.

“Why do you say that?” Smalls mumbled, only half-listening as he tried to figure out why on earth anyone had ever thought it was a good idea to mix letters and numbers.

“Do you know what I just overheard?”

“I don’t have a fathomable clue.”

“That doe you like-Heather. And her brother, whatever his name is.”

Smalls noticed Wilfred open his eyes and sit up again, and internally groaned. Shut up, Shut up Evan-

“She was asking if he’d seen you, which he said he had, but according to Heather, she hasn’t seen you in nearly two weeks.” Evan sent a smug look in Wilfred’s direction, and Wilfred only shook his head. Smalls was wishing he could melt into the floor and disappear. “Care to tell me why you’re avoiding this doe you supposedly aren’t madly in love with?”

Smalls face grew hot, burning with embarrassment and shame. He tried to remain focused on his math but failed miserably. Why does Evan always get to me?

“Y’know, if she wasn’t a Longtreader I’d bet money on how many suitors would be lining up.” Evan said. He’s just trying to rile you up. Ignore him. “Even so, she’s pretty enough that there’s still quite a few. I’ve overheard one or two things…..”

“That’s enough, Evan.” Wilfred interrupted. “Leave him alone. You’ve got better things to do than pester your brother. And you have no right to bash my niece’s perfectly good reputation, Longtreader name regardless.”

It was Evan’s turn to look bashful. “I-I didn’t mean…..” He stuttered.

“Oh really?” Wilfred raised an eyebrow. “You both know I couldn’t care less how you annoy each other, but leave others out of it.”  

The reprimand does its job.

“Sorry.” Evan mumbled, flushing. 

“Smart choice.”

“So…..”

“Evan, go to bed.” Wilfred sighed. “You’ve caused your trouble, I can handle the rest.”

Smalls moaned audibly. Evan’s face screwed up in laughter as he struggled to keep it inside.

“Good night, Evan.” Wilfred added pointedly.

Evan snorted with laughter, gasped for breath, and then quickly made his way for the door before he received another lecture. Smalls silently called him some not-so-pretty names.

Once Evan was gone, Wilfred turned to Smalls, crossing his arms. “You aren’t getting out of this this time.”

            Oh please, just give me another word problem. Anything but this, Smalls thought, fiddling with his sword pommel nervously.

Wilfred rarely put his foot down about anything. But when he did, Smalls and Evan had learned not to put up a fight about it. Wilfred could be a relentless detective when he needed to be, and hiding things from him was rarely worth the battle. The downside in this situation was that Smalls felt more like he was being interrogated rather than listened to.

Once his story was finished, there was silence for a moment. Then Wilfred asked, “Well, what will you do about it?”

Smalls looked away. “Is ‘nothing’ an option?”

            “Not a permanent one.” Wilfred replied, shaking his head. “The longer you bottle this up, just as it would for everything else, the more intense it’s going to become and the harder to conceal. You’ll have to do something about it eventually.”

            “Not yet.” Smalls said, trying to keep the pleading notes out of his voice. I don’t want her dragged into this. Not if she doesn’t have to be.  

            “I’m not asking you to do anything about it now, but I am asking what your aim is. You already have a friendship with Heather, do you want something more?”

Smalls tongue stuck for a long time, and he couldn’t find anything worthwhile to say, so he finally just settled on; “Yes.” But,

Wilfred nodded. “There. You’ve acknowledged that. Now you can make decisions from there.” Wilfred stood, yawning. “I need some sleep. Good night.”

Smalls nodded in acknowledgement, but remained where he was. He didn’t move for a long while.

It was so complicated. Heather-she was brilliant. She really was. Smalls had no doubts about her trustworthiness or honesty. She was patient and kind, and Smalls was hopelessly, terribly, in love with her. But it was because of this that he felt an almost overwhelming urge to protect her. To keep her safe, and he knew that, simply by being associated with him made one not safe. And Heather deserved better. She deserved better than a scrawny prince with his country in shambles and no means to protect her, not permanently.

A prince whose demons couldn’t even leave him alone when he slept.

The nightmares were becoming practically unbearable. Smalls was beginning to decide that sleep was just plain over-rated, and he could go without.

            However, the lack of rest wasn’t doing him any favors, and it was making his days almost as miserable as his nights.For the most part, he stayed away from people, and avoided especially the Halfwind soldiers. He tried to avoid conversations all together. His nervousness around Heather was climbing to new heights, something he decidedly blamed on his poor sleep schedule and utter self-consciousness about the entire situation. He was, as Evan tactfully put it, ‘in a mood’.

            And he couldn’t help but notice how frequently Kyle talked to her.

            He was jealous, and he hated it. But Smalls wasn’t willing yet to admit anything, just the fact that Wilfred and Evan knew was enough to make him shrivel up inside. And he still didn’t like Kyle. Kyle was everything he wasn’t-and vice versa.

            He avoided both of them, talking rarely with anyone outside of Evan and Wilfred.

            It was inane that this was taking up so much of his energy. It was senseless and he needed to forget about it, but he couldn’t. He just couldn’t.

More weeks passed. Smalls discovered that, if you wanted peace and quiet, the best place was the memorial Standing Stones the Votaries maintained. Aside from one very confused votary and a troubled Halfwind archer, he hadn’t so far been disturbed. He preferred it there rather than in Lighthall. Here, he was actually alone. And it was quiet. Peaceful, even.

            Other times he stayed in the library, where he saw Heather most. If he wasn’t either of those places he was training with Evan, mostly because neither of them had anything better to do and Evan could quite easily skip out on whatever Ronan’s plan was for the day if he wanted. On one of these occasions, after a particularly hard training session, Evan asked,

            “If you could do anything in the world, what would you do?”

Smalls finished his water and contemplated a moment. “I don’t know. Get rid of Morbin, I suppose. What about you?”

            “Marry Charity. Find somewhere quiet where I don’t have to deal with politics.”

            “You’d cut yourself off from the rest of the family.” Smalls remarked, squinting at his sword, which had gathered several streaks of dirt from training. He began to clean it.

Evan shifted. “Politics is your thing. You’re good at that-I’m not. Asher’s good at it, even if he does despise it.” He paused. “What would you really do? I mean, I want the war over as much as the next person, but that’s not all you really want, is it?”

Smalls paused a moment. “I don’t know.” He said at last. “I’ve never really thought 0about it.”

“Lies. Blatant, blatant lies.”  The voice in his head hissed. “Awful, terrible lies.”

“Shut up.” He told it. “And leave Heather out of this.”  

            “Well, then what would you do after the war is over?”

            “If we survive? Well, I don’t really know that either.”

            “Yes you do.”

            “You’ll be king.” Evan reminded him. “Wonder when that’ll hit you.”

Smalls shrugged. “It’s too far off now. I’ll think about it more, I’m sure, when the time comes.”

“Liar, liar, liar.”

Evan nodded. “It’s strange, isn’t it, how we’re handed our destiny on golden platters and expected to live up to it. I wonder what happens if we don’t.”

Smalls wondered that every day of his life. “We fail, I suppose.” He finally replied. “And others suffer for that.”

Evan took a sip of water. “I guess we better live up then, huh?” Smalls nodded. He finished cleaning his sword and sheathed it. “I wonder who your queen will be.” Evan remarked.

“Shut up, Evan.”