comfort.
they tell her she needs to eat. the little princess blinks at these foreign words - eat and food - for she didn’t think about it the whole day. ever since the day broke in splendorous colors and loss, ahreum didn’t see rest. she had been nothing but absorbed in her efforts to help as many civilians she could. the princess would offer them her most compassionate smile and despite the guards protests, she would kiss the children’s dirty faces and the adults dirty hands. even though she was shattered herself, ahreum followed her heart in what concerned kindness. bandages could heal their bodies, but only kindness could heal a chastised soul. and so the youngest princess dedicated every of her energies to give some kind of comfort to those people.
when they tell her that she needs to rest, she realizes her legs has been shaking and that the sole remark may have stolen her breath. until they have pointed it out, ahreum hasn’t come to take in her state. the princess needs to rest - they say once again. and then she just nods because she is too weak to be defiant. she sits where they point and suddenly there is a plate of food on her hands. ahreum stares at it and even though she hasn’t felt the taste of food for an entire day, it doesn’t seem attractive. the whole concept of eating seemed as thin in her mind as air.
sitting silently, she can almost hear the pleas of the king and the queen. she knows well this is everything they feared and yet, ahreum came with some childish idea of bravery. she told herself that she was ready to skip the words and see the war as it really was. see its colors and its horrors with her bare eyes and not by sugar coated paragraphs. everything lacked the sensibility of poetry and prose and at the same time, such sadness and such heaviness made her fingers itch. she understood what writes used to do now and why their views of reality seemed so prettier. a feeling of sorrow like that makes her want to transform these heartbreaking events in beauty. she wishes to honor every victim and every survivor with sensible and beautiful words.
they call for her again - in their usual formal way, never by her name, never by her nickname. she was nameless there. her traits and her wits didn’t matter at all. she was just the princess. and the princess was little inclined to leave her thoughts when she raises her head. her chin drags her bottom lip down and she blinks at the image of milo. with everything that happened, it slipped from her mind the fact that her friend was there, too. it comforts her a bit to know that he is there, but when she tries to smile, she only displays a sad attempt.
“milo” she breathes. “did you come to see me?”