12 Once Upon a Time

The Young Champion and the Goddess, huh? Although my memory may fail me at times and many fragments remain a mystery, I am not that far gone. I'm sure I haven't caught Alzheimer's or anything. This was a bed-time story. A fairy-tale, to speak of. Although, I am pretty sure it was about me and how I met the Goddess, like ordinary fairy tales and rumors, they tend to be exaggerated and over-emphasized. Nonetheless, to please this enthusiastic and overly blinding pure bundle of cuteness, I started my narration.

I cleared my throat,

"Oh young man, won't you become my champion?" And so, the Goddess spoke.

He looked up at her, puzzled, "I am unworthy of such a grand position, for I am merely an ant and can only gaze up at you."

"Nonsense, young man," the Goddess replied. "You, of such a high standing among your mortal pears and of incredible strength have defeated the evil forces of Corruption and slayed a great general. If you are not worthy to be mine, then who else? What fiery passion and color is your hair, it represents your personality and inner courage. It truly brings out the determination of such a youthful one."

"However, I have come from such a low standing! I am a peasant, and as a peasant, I shall perish. I am no noble prince, nor some handsome king, the only thing I can offer you is my loyalty." The young man paused, "I have done nothing but evil deeds, I acted selfishly, killing others for the sake of protecting my own people but even so, when my reason for killing withered and my people gone, what was the point of sacrificing others?"

He then looked at his blood-stained hands, "I am nothing but a killer, the lowest of humans, better yet, I have forced my ideals and beliefs onto other people, believing that I am righteous and have slayed countless under those terms. Once my people have gone, I have lived nothing but a life of revengeance and succumbed to my anger and grief. Who else better than I, to call myself true trash?"

The Goddess looked at the young man not with disgust, hatred or anger but with empathy. "Yes however, if anyone else had tread your path, they would not have given thought to the countless people they have killed and would have turned numb long ago. You though, continue to suffer in endless torment and self-loathing. You, who are filled with overflowing kindness had continued to protect those he loved and burdened yourself with the deaths of those you have slayed. The countless fallen people are forever remembered in your memories and what better respect for the dead, than to forever remember them? It is the same as a hero."

She smiled kindly at the man and stated, "A hero is not classified by his strength, deeds , wealth nor accomplishment. He is classified by the memories of those he had interacted with. The memories of his deeds and achievements. You, who remember those you have slain and integrated them deep within your soul, are truly kind. Yet, you continue to suffer from your actions. Do you regret saving your own people? Do you regret slaying them in order to protect what you love? Rather, would you regret if you had never done those deeds and simply watched?"

The young man, looked at the Goddess with firm determination and slowly, "I do not regret it at all Goddess, I wish to serve under such a kind, loving and understanding person."

"I will become your Champion of Light!" And so, the young hero accepted her proposal.

"Thus, that is the story of how the Young Champion and the Goddess had met." Looking at the young girl sleeping soundly, I softly ended the story. Although, properly analyzing the story, this does seem like your run-of-the-mill fairy-tale meeting and cliche'd interaction. I very much doubt that exact event had happened. In fact, I remember insulting the Goddess when we first met. One glaring aspect that stood out most out of the fragmented memories were that Veronica was nicknamed 'Eternal Holy Ironing Board'. Of course, it was I who came up with it.

I lifted the blanket and tucked her in softly.

I left the room and headed towards mine.

It's time to sleep now isn't it? Time to sleep, yep. Time to sleep? No, please. It's not that I hate sleeping or have insomnia. I don't have a phobia about sleeping either. It's just that...

"Why didn't you save him?! My husband was slaughtered by those monsters! Ẃ̶͈͎̠̀͘h̶̭͖̙̒à̴̯͎t̵̮̋́ ̸̫̔̒̎͜k̶͎̟͌͂̀i̸̫̫̫̒̿ǹ̸̯̦d̶͈̄ ̶̺̂o̴̻͋̑f̶͈̟͆̑͛ ̸̯͖͒͂͐h̷͖͛̈e̶͙̲͊r̴̛͔̘͙ǒ̵̬͓̫̆̉ ̴̠̔͛͋ḁ̷͒r̵̺̺̰̾ĕ̴͖͠ ̷̘̬̠͗͌y̸̼̆̇o̵̹̠͠u̷̝͆͝͝?̸̧̣̹͑̉!̶̨̳̖͝" A screaming woman started to distort in front of me and fragments flew. Her words started to distort. Ahhh, it's these memories again.

I sigh, for the past few days, every-time I sleep, fragments of memories always attempts to rush at me during my most vulnerable phase other than when nature calls. It feels like I've experienced these countless times although despite that, I have not become numb to them.

It is most likely because every-time I get used to a scene, it immediately switches to another more horrifying experience.

Like one of those salesmen who try and sell you something you don't want and then they whip out something else. It would then repeat in an endless cycle until you finally stop being respectful and tell them to bugger off.

Although unlike those, I can't exactly reject these memories. Why? Because I wouldn't be me anymore. There's a lingering feeling where, if I reject these horrifying memories, I would cease to be 'me' anymore. Memories are what makes a person. Without these experiences, I would simply be an empty husk. Horrible experiences though, don't help much in terms of soothing PTSD. Ah, it's that feeling of getting used to this again.

The view collapses onto itself and forms a grand castle. In a spacious royal hall where a king sat, he declared "Ǫ̵̪̊̎f̶̡̪͓̑̕f̶̘̅ ̶͇͑w̶̱̺͔̐i̵̡͆͒̓t̴̘̖͝͠h̸͍̝̃͛͘ ̶̦̠̄̽̊t̶̓ͅh̴͈͒͗̆e̴̻̙̲̽́͆ ̴̢̹̺̄̕H̵̰́́ë̷̫́͋r̶͉̦̺̓̕o̴̩͐̀'̴̙̆̆̕s̷̝̈́̉̍ ̸͍̠̈́h̵̬̳͇̀e̸̺̾͜a̴̼̘̾ď̶͕! He has committed treason against this country! His greed and his lunacy has cost us millions of lives! Abandoning his duty in the line of battle is worthy of execution!"

The guards beside me drag me off to a guillotine in a spacious courtyard. A guillotine on a platform, that was where I was situated. People were crying in front of me. It seems there are guardsmen attempting to quell a riot at the same time.

These 'rebels' the guards spoke of were slaughtered one by one. They wore nothing but leather and in comparison to the guards' silver iron armor and well-maintained swords, they had nothing but pitchforks and axes. Soon, it seemed that the captain of the guardsmen grew tired and decided to simply kill everyone. Elderly, women, children, adults, they all died trying to free me.

I was forced to watch. A woman who had dark red hair rushed to the front of the dying people and spoke indiscernible words. Immediately, the guardsmen stopped and focused on her. She was suddenly stabbed by the captain and kicked off to the side.

My vision started to cloud, rather, it felt like I was drowning. Drowning in my own tears.

The worst part about these dreams were not the horrible experiences nor the gruesome events. It was the fact that I could do nothing. I was encased, more like anchored on the spot. I was only along for the ride. Again and again and again.

It continued to show horrible sights such as these. However, there was always one exception. In-between these horrible dreams, there always laid a silver lining within the clouds.

"Perk up Alias, you, who are the Young Champion of Light, described in mortal fairy-tales should cheer up nowadays!" Her face was clouded but there was no need to attempt to identify her. She was Veronica.

"Sorry, sorry, it's just depression hitting hard again. I should probably be fine now."

She smiled at me, "The past is the past, although it may be the past, never forget them."

"Yeah, yeah."

"I surely hope you won't forget about me, though." Veronica looked to the horizon and had a complicated face.

"What, constipated again, Ms Goddess?"

She turned to look at me, "Time to wake up," her fists then flew directly to my face and proceeded to knock the living daylights out of me.

"Ugh, she always hits hard." Lying on the floor, it seemed like my nose was bleeding. Due to the commotion Francesca suddenly barged in,

"What happened, Alias?! Is there a thieving cat?" Her face was filled with concern and worry.

"Haha, just a flat one." I smirked, "Anyway, what time is it?"

"Oh, it's just half-past 7, I woke up early to make you breakfast! By the way, Uncle Litho stopped by and left some money for us to go shopping out today."

I took a glance at her and she wore a one-piece dress that Veronica often liked. It seems that successors tend to take after their predecessors. Her dress was adorned with lovely roses and petals at the hem. It was also strikingly colorful. It truly suited someone as pure as her. I also start to wonder if she likes eating chicken eggs like Veronica?

"Say, what are you cooking? I smell something burning." I took in a whiff of smoke.

"Ahh! Eggs are starting to buuuurn!" She shouted in surprise and ran off to the kitchen, pat pat pat.

I'm worried.

I sat on the chair by the kitchen. The kitchen was beautifully adorned with porcelain items all around. For Goddess' sake, the knives, spoons and forks were made of gold! Well, this is the resident of the Goddess of Light so...

She continued to cook on a diamond pan. My goodness does that diamond pan cook eggs well and fast. She poured the eggs onto gold plates along with bread and spices. It was a relatively simple meal. The cute young girl struggled to hold three plates at the same times and almost tripped.

With large effort, she hauled the meals over to the table. It seems like she didn't want any of my help as she refused me earlier.

"Well, time to eat!" She began eating instantly.

"Hey, hey, why don't you pay respects to the farmers and such first?"

"Oh! Uhm," Francesca started to panic. "Thanks farmers, more specifically dairy farmers!"

I smiled at her naivety. If anyone was going to pray to whom, it would be the farmers praying to this little cute Goddess ironically. It was because of her that people are able to grow things. The boundless might of Goddesses supplied the energy and nutrition of the soil needed to grow plants. It was very complex. Scholars in the city should be aware of this. Looks like I have to teach her basic education of Goddesses.

When we reach the city below, I should have her attend an ordinary school and see how things go, I hope she'll make friends.

She looked at me with boundless excitement, her eyes twinkled again, "Well, how is it?!"

"Not bad, given how short you are, I doubted that you would even reach the drawer to the oil and food but you've exceeded my expectations, here's a little golden star!" I clap my hands and rub her head.

"H-Hey! Don't treat me like a child! I'm very, very, very old!" She pouted.

"You mean Veronica is, to me, you're but a little kid." That's right, she was but a child that looked fourteen years old. I worry as to how she'll fare in the future.

"Aren't we supposed to be the same age?!" Francesca continued to pout.

"Hm? Oh. No way, I may look like I'm eighteen years of age but I am faaar older than that!" I responded mightily and with authority.

"But, at the time of the orphanage." She softly whispered to herself.

Orphanage? Ugh, looks like a fragmented memory. Crap, she looks sad now. Better cheer her up.

"Even if I look like this, I'm still me, see?" I proceeded to rub her head again. "Feels the same, right?"

She mumbled, "Yeah, I guess."

"Are you ready? Shall we head off to the city now?" I asked.

"Yeah!" Enthusiastically, she grabbed a backpack and looked at me brightly.