Things I Almost Remember: A Selection Story

Ahren

It had been nearly ten years. Ten years since Ahren Schreave had lost his parents, his twin sister, his brothers, and so many people that meant so much to him.

The only hope had been that his beloved niece Kerttu had somehow made it out of the massacre alive. The palace ballroom had been stormed by Marid Illéa's men, and it was only because of the unwaveringattention of the French Royal Guard that he, his wife, and daughter had made it out with just seconds to spare.

But, if they had been able to get out, was it not possible Kerttu had too? He had not seen her in the moments before the chaos broke out, but rumors had flooded to every corner of Illéa that Marid and his government had never found Kerttu's body with the bodies of the rest of her family, and these rumors, for at least a while anyway, had begun to give Ahren hope that they would find Kerttu again.

But, years had passed, and no word or sign had come from Illéa. However, what had come had been imposter after imposter claiming to be the lost princess. Ahren and his wife, Queen Camille of France, had put out an offer fora significant reward for anyone who could return their niece to them. Many had responded, but they had all been people looking to cash in on the reward and try to take their chance to become royalty.

At first, every new girl to come claiming to be Kerttu made Ahren excited and helpful that finally, that time, that one time, it would really be her. However, after disappointment after disappointment, Ahren had become embittered and angry. He could barely give any of the Kerttus who came to call a second glance because he was so certain they would just be another imposter. The palace received letter after letter claiming to have been sent by Kerttu and requesting money to be brought to France to prove it. There even were phone calls from places as far as New Asia and Italy coming in claiming to be the lost princess.

"Why would she be in New Asia or Italy? How could she have even gotten there in the first place? Marid is making it harder and harder to even leave the country," Ahren had commented to Camille after hanging up the phone on the imposter from New Asia.

"It would be as probable as her being in France," Camille had replied with a sigh.

"This is truly a false hope, a waste of time. I need to give this up," Ahren had replied, running a hand through his dark blonde hair.

"We cannot give up hope. We must always carry it with us. Even if she is not with us, she might still be alive. If that is the case, we can at least be thankful she is living and hope that wherever she is, she is safe," Camille had said, trying to reassure her husband.

This had been one of the more recent Kerttu imposter incidents, and it had particularly frustrated Ahren. How much longer must he keep up hope only to have it crushed by someone selfish enough to try to pretend to be a supposedly dead girl for money?

Ahren knew Kerttu, the real Kerttu, would never be capable of doing such a thing. She would be eighteen now, and if she was alive, Ahren wanted to believe that she still held the compassion, strength, and love of life that she had possessed as a little girl. Would the loss and pain have left her as embittered as he had become?

Ahren sat on a secluded bench in the gardens of the French palace as he thought about these things. What was he to do? His thoughts turned to his sister Eadlyn  and how she would have known what to do. She would have found Kerttu by now. She would have been strong.

The thought of his beloved twin sister brought a tear to his eye. At the sound of footsteps on the gravel path, he quickly rubbed it away and turned to see who was approaching.

When he saw it was his wife, he relaxed a bit.

"Hello, darling," he said with a weak smile as she came over to sit beside him. Ahren could not discern the expression on her face. It was paradoxically hopeful and wary.

"Hello," Camille said as she sat beside him. She breathed in before continuing, "I just received some news from an anonymous source in Illéa that...that Kerttu, supposedly, has been spotted in the city of Niève."

"Niève? That cold and depressing city?" Ahren asked skeptically. "How would she have ended up there?"

Camille frowned at him and placed her hand on his knee.

"It has been ten years, she could have gotten anywhere in Illéa by now. It is more likely than her being in New Asia," she said, a ghost of a smile passing over her lips.

"And you said the source was anonymous?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, it was passed along to our intel. The only message we received was that she had been spotted. I know it is not necessarily the answer that we want, but this time, someone has seen her. It is not another fraud coming to our door trying to swindle us. It is the most hopeful report that we have had on the case in a long time."

"I suppose it is," Ahren said, starting to relax a bit. "I just do not want to get my hopes up at something that still has so many question marks."

"Don't give up hope," Camille said, taking his face in her hands and smiling. "If she is out there, we will find her. No matter how long it takes, she will come home to us."

"I hope you are right," Ahren said looking first at his wife and then looking up at the moon in the center of the starry night sky.

"I hope," Ahren said, breathing slowly in and out. "I hope somewhere out there Kerttu is looking up at this same sky, trying to find a way home to us."