I Finally Hear It

"Woah! This can't be…" Loki moans, seemingly on the verge of crying. "Me, swallow my words? Though I suppose that's not what I ought to do now." Pretending not to notice the side-eyed glare Odin is giving him, he claps his hands softly. "Excuse my impertinence. It's here, everyone! Phase two! Though it's a bit late, Sore Loser Perun-kun. There's no point in showcasing all that strength if you finish the round in one blow, is it now? Stupid geezer, going all-out without even putting on a decent show. Maybe I should jump down there and take him on myself, that'll be entertaining. Wouldn't it? It would, wouldn't it!?"

A horrid noise emerges from the god's hands as he munches on the tips of his fingers. The two ravens open their beaks, but no words come out. Odin's grasp on the armrest tightens. A strong desire to either flee or burst into tears engulfs the birds. An unhinged Loki and a mad Odin have never been a good sign. Now that the battle got their blood pumping…

"Kidding. I would never, ever fight a jolly fellow god!" Loki assures, emphasizing each word. "Still, it's a bummer."

***

A dark, cold abyss. The last sparks of a dream, extinguished with brutality. It was windy. A sharp wind, the kind that leaves your body hurting all over even after it disappears. Blood. There was some blood, too. And dust, mixed with the blood. The smell was stomach-churning. But it was quiet. Quiet enough that it almost made up for the rest of the scenery. It was almost fine.

That's how Khutulun felt that day, after the fight was over. Before her lay a lifeless body, the boy's tattered clothes now soaked. His sister's mouth moved as she collapsed to the ground. Rivers of tears flowed out through her closed eyelids. But no amount of wailing could bring him back now. At that moment, Khutulun found herself wondering. Why was the girl screaming? Throwing a tantrum? That was probably it. But…

"W-why!?"

Khutulun looked up, a bit startled by the outburst. Anarba and Mide wore frightened expressions, and their bodies looked like they were shaking. It hadn't gotten that chilly yet, had it? Despite that thought, however, she instantly broke into a coughing fit.

"Should we go home?" the princess asked, barely catching her breath. She hadn't noticed until then, but her throat hurt. She was feeling light-headed, too. Had that brawl been enough to exhaust her?

Mide inched closer to her father and whispered, "I know how you feel right now. It's the same for me. But we have to go. Now. Before people gather. This thing's on our head already."

"Right. Yeah, let's return, milady. Surely this has been a tiring day," the old man agreed, rubbing his hands together.

The two servants smiled, so Khutulun smiled in return. And, in her opinion, that should've been the end of it. In reality, however, that was only the beginning.

"For the hundredth time, do something about them!" Kaidu roared, causing everyone in the room to flinch. "If respect doesn't work, use fear! If fear's not enough, terrorize them!"

A couple of weeks had passed since Khutulun's… altercation. During this time, more and more people had begun to express their dissatisfaction. Scandals, complaints, even riots ensued. Some of them had, of course, been silenced. But Kaidu knew he couldn't silence everyone. And all because that boy's father was somewhat wealthy...

Anarba apologised for what must've been the thousandth time that day. No matter how much influence Kaidu had, he wasn't officially a khan. His servants sparked even less respect in the eyes of an angry mob. Nevertheless, he assured Kaidu he would take care of it.

During this time, the princess had grown bored. Walks didn't pick her interest anymore. Neither did clothes, or idle conversation with her servants. Once in a while, she would space out, staring intently at her own palms. It had taken her a while to figure it out, but there was no mistake. After hearing her father scold Anarba and Mide over and over again, she'd understood. With those two hands, she had murdered the little boy during their duel. She had killed someone. And killing was an inexcusable act, one the world couldn't turn a blind eye to.

"But why?" she would whisper. "Don't they kill on purpose when they wage war? Meanwhile, I didn't want to do it…"

Still, a primal urge had emerged deep inside her soul then. It wasn't about killing. In all fairness, it wasn't even about fighting. She wanted to feel it again. That surge of power, that serene calm permeating her body. That strength.

Regardless of Khutulun's intentions and desires, the situation continued to escalate. Rallied by the boy's father, the crowds grew bigger. Their displeasure greater. And their demands… more precise. Soon, however, word reached Kaidu's ears that they were willing to forgive the princess.

"His anger stems from elsewhere," the ruler told his servants. "Khutulun is just a child, so he knows it would be irrational. Instead… they want the heads of the attendants who allowed it to happen." A cold silence befell the room as Kaidu uttered the death sentence. The others stared at the two, grief-stricken and relieved at the same time. "Two days. I'll give you two days to finish your business. It's a shame, but it's the only way. I trust you understand. It's not a war against our own people we want."

But the two promised days never came. For Anarba and Mide had long since settled any and all matters. No matter the era, the people's unrest never reaches the leaders straight away. It always, always passes by the lower branches' ears first and foremost. And so, the two knew their end was coming way before Kaidu's statement. That evening, unbeknownst to anyone, Anarba hung himself. And, just as secretly, Mide locked herself inside a remote chamber and slit her throat. Just like that, they were gone. Their bodies weren't found until the next morning, and the only thing they left behind was a message.

"Should anything happen to us, tell milady to live. Much like ours until now, her life won't be easy. But even so, tell her… to live a long, happy life."

Protests died down. The people got what they wanted at the expense of two replaceable attendants. The ruler had honoured their request. After a few days, it was like nothing had happened. Encouraged by this development, Kaidu forbid his servants from talking about the earlier events. Both the brawl and the deaths of Khutulun's retainers were to be forgotten without delay.

The princess, on the other hand, was devastated. Upon hearing the saddening news, a cold void engulfed her once again. This time, however, it didn't go away. Yet Khutulun did not shed a single tear. "Live long," she could almost hear Anarba's voice tell her. But living long did not mean living in ignorance. She couldn't dismiss the way she felt. Cold. Lonely. Confused. There was a word that could perfectly describe the emptiness now nesting inside of her, but she didn't know it at the time. That word, Khutulun would later learn, was "despair".

And what did her father tell her not a week after their passing?

"Perhaps it's time we start thinking about a suitor."

That short phrase set her off laughing. A suitor. Of course, why else would he have asked to see her, considering the state she was in? Well, matters like that needed to be discussed with utmost urgency. At least, they did in Kaidu's eyes. It wasn't like she didn't understand. Khutulun wiped the laughter tears from her eyes before opening her mouth. For some reason, she felt like she'd known what to say to that for a long time now.

"Marriage? Waste of time. But if you will it, so shall it be," she told him. "I can't marry someone weaker than me, though. So whatever suitors you manage to find, I'll challenge them. Should they be unable to take me down…"

"Fine." An instant, if a bit unanticipated, reply. "I'll put up a notice no later than tomorrow."

Thus, matters were settled. Khutulun locked herself away, waiting. Training. Although perplexed by Kaidu's choice, the servants complied with his request of spreading the word. Whoever would defeat his daughter in a match of wrestling would receive her hand in marriage. It was a dubious way of doing this, to begin with. But the earlier occurrence made it even less likely that a man would pursue the princess. People don't forget that easily. That, coupled with the ridiculous entry fee of ten horses per suitor caused an immediate ruckus.

"They might value strength… but would they really risk their lives for a wife?" the people would gossip.

"Betting your fortune away like that…"

"Shut your trap! It's the princess we're talking about, of course they would!" scolded those who feared Kaidu's wrath.

What they did disregard was Khutulun's stance on all of this. The princess didn't mind. The more her attendants focused on searching for wealthy and capable men, the more time she had alone with her thoughts. Ropes of doubt coiled around her heart, constricting her will, making it hard to pay attention to anything else. Two lives had been given up to atone for the loss of one. With each day, she realised more and more how unfair it was. A silent, regretful confusion clouded her mind. She found it hard to talk, hard to listen… hard to breathe. The never-ending grief was suffocating.

Khutulun only found an outlet for those feelings the moment her first suitor showed up. Her victory was swift and unsatisfactory, but it offered her something she lacked. It was like a revelation. She'd needed an objective. And she now acquired one that would make her existence meaningful. That long life Anarba and Mide had wanted for her… would be spent in battle. Understanding. Searching. Seeking the strongest. Because of her monstrous strength, a hell she couldn't escape had been brought about. So the only way for Khutulun to set herself free was…

"I am not supreme," the princess decided at that moment. "One day, I shall find my match. One day, I, too, shall be defeated."

But no one heard her words. The man sunk to the floor, thankful for getting to leave alive. Kaidu rejoiced at the thought of adding to his wealth. The servants breathed easy. And Khutulun… was once again alone.

By the time the famous explorer, Marco Polo, reached Kaidu's court, the princess' victories had already started to grow in number. Around then, word was she would soon ride into battle alongside her father's men. As Marco kneeled in front of the ruler, he couldn't help but notice his daughter's… peculiar outfit. Compact armour that wouldn't hinder her movements. Leather gauntlets. Flashy headwear. Yes. In the short time since her awakening, Khutulun had become a true warrior princess.

"I understand you are a traveller. You've seen all kinds of places, haven't you?" she asked Marco.

"Yes, I have travel— "

"Who's the strongest person you've ever met!?"

There it was. The question Marco had dreaded ever since he'd first heard about Khutulun's might. Not many things escape an explorer's ears. So he knew about her enjoyment of battle. He knew about how she never boasted, despite being undefeated. Naturally, he knew…

"It pains my heart to say this. But that would be none other than you, milady," Marco declared, breaking into a cold sweat.

Despite his claim, Khutulun wasn't angry. At least, she didn't seem angry. Perhaps she'd grown to understand and accept the limits of her strength. Or the lack thereof.

After that, however, the gap between Khutulun and the rest of the world increased tenfold. She trained alone. She barely slept and often refused to speak for days at a time. Years passed, and Khutulun won yet many battles. Either in war or in the ring, she was always victorious. Still, the pressure was robbing her of any energy. She couldn't hear anything, couldn't understand anything. That tightness in her chest, like an emptying wind, rummaging wildly through her heart. Always searching. Always hoping. Fighting. She knew her task would never be finished. Soon, it became near impossible to strike up any kind of conversation with her. If she didn't initiate it, no one could speak to Khutulun. It didn't take long before everyone gave up.

"If she wants to be like that, there's no need to bother. I'm most pleased by her abilities, and I'll let that be the end of it," Kaidu finally decided.

Until the day she died, Khutulun remained undefeated. The Khan's Judgement, the Ten Breaths. She used everything she had at her disposal… and continued to win.

But one day, through some miracle, Khutulun fell asleep at noon. With the sleepless nights taking their toll on her, and her training more intense than ever… perhaps it had been just a matter of time. That day, one of the few servants that still cared deeply about her, a young girl, heard something she shouldn't have.

"I promise," Khutulun's voice rang.

The girl froze. She'd come to bring the princess the cloths she'd asked for. Was she angry? But her eyes were still closed. No, she was talking in her sleep.

"Anarba, Mide… I'll find someone. I promise. I'll join you soon. Find someone strong. Stronger. Promise…"

A sadness unlike any other emerged inside the girl as she saw tears seeping through Khutulun's eyelids. It was a secret she would take to the grave, that sight. At that moment, however, she felt sorry for the princess. In the end, not even her strength could ease her pain.

"Milady…" she began saying.

"Mide. Mide…?"

"Milady," the girl repeated, this time softly, almost like a lullaby.

"Ah… I hear it. I finally hear it."

And Khutulun's tears rolled down her face, crossing the gentle smile she wore now, caressing her chin. Despite herself, the servant cried in kind. She prayed then that Khutulun would find happiness. She prayed that there would come a day when she could rest…

"Milady… Milady."

***

"Milady! Milady!"

Two people shout erratically as Khutulun lay unmoving. Despair clear in their trembling voices, they refuse to accept the grim end before them.

"Milady, get up! We beg of you!"

Their wish distorted by the sobbing, Anarba and Mide continue to yell. Too much blood. There's too much blood coming out of the princess' body for them not to panic. So the two yell at the top of their lungs. Still, it's too silent. Crying and begging, they tell Khutulun to fight. To live.

"Hey, settle down!"

"Damned brat, what do you think you're doing?"

Angry remarks burst out all around the two as the crowd begins to shift. People click their tongues or lash out at a little boy as he flails tenaciously. He's struggling to reach the front rows. Pushing burly soldiers aside, kicking and punching, he's making his way towards the ring. Some try to catch him. Others simply move out of the way. His distressed expression makes most of them avert their gaze. Like a cornered animal, he thrashes about fiercely…

"Miss, don't give up! You're strong, so don't give up!" he shouts, at last grabbing onto the stone railing. He wishes he had bigger lungs, the kind a grown-up has. The cries are making his throat burn. His face turns red, and he's light in the head. But he doesn't stop. "Get up, Miss!!!"

And so, a grand total of three people call at the top of their voices. The gods stifle their laughter at the mortals' attempt to raise the dead. After two consecutive losses, though, they feel like they deserve a bit of pity. To think out of all humanity, so few had cheered their fighter on, even in the earlier stages… in their eyes, it's plain embarrassing. Why bother raising their voices now, when there's nothing they can do?

"Looks like we have our winner!" Heimdall completely disregards the humans' cries. "The second round goes to the gods! Perun is— "

"Hey… Hey, hey, hey! Taking out… only one of my lungs… won't be enough to… kill me. Those guys… need me, you know?"

A smirk splits Perun's lips at the fatigued provocation. He turns around, clenching each and every one of his six fists in anticipation. There she is. Standing up despite all odds, his first worthy opponent in a long, long time…

"I did hope it wouldn't be over so soon. You really, really are a nice one, girlie!" he roars hoarsely.

And Khutulun grins in return.