What Do You Get When You Mix an Immortal With a Life Sentence?

A Whole Lot of Confusion

"For high treason against the Crown, you have been sentenced to life." The judge looked at her with contempt in his eye, but she was just confused.

The charge was ridiculous considering the tiny, minuscule failed attempt on the king's life, but he deserved it for what he'd done. The charge, however, wasn't the confusing part. No, it was the sentence. Life? A life sentence for her? Most people would maybe freak out, throw a tantrum, or at the least cry, but she was mostly just confused.

What's a life sentence to an immortal after all? How long can they even hold her when she has lived for longer than the kingdom has even existed? That thought was more amusing to her than she would've imagined and distracted her long enough for the officers to drive her to the prison and show her to her cell, the cell that would remain hers for her life sentence, however long that may be. The officers then brought her to another room, a much larger room filled with people.

She still remembers the fall of Rome as if it was yesterday, though she was in Egypt at the time, and now she was being held in a cell. In a prison. That is less than one-thousandths as old as she. The thought made her laugh aloud, confusing those around her. Except for the old man standing in the corner.

"They've caught you too, huh? What's this make, the 300th time?" He laughed, his croaky voice cutting across the silence her presence in the room had caused and sent thousands of memories of old flashing in her mind.

"Not quite," she replied, "Only the 295th." He laughed again, his booming voice a cooling balm for the confusion and unease that rested in the back of her mind.

They had met back when she was just realizing her own powers, and he had guided her on how to stay hidden from the general public, how to not reveal her "true nature", although his powers differ quite a bit from hers. He had kept her safe, given her a place to sleep and food to eat, and she owes her life to him. That's not to say, however, that it's a surprise to find him in a prison 300 years since the last time they met. He always said laws were more of a suggestion than a rule, though many judges had disagreed with his ideas.

The other prisoners had begun to spread out, resuming their daily routines as they had before she had arrived. He had resumed reading the book on his lap, ironically named, "A History of Time" (she had no doubt he had chosen it for that reason), and she decided to explore the space she had been led to.

Food was being served from behind metal bars and the tables around her were screwed into the floor. Those questionable interior design choices along with the grey walls and bright fluorescent lights were stark reminders that the building around her was a prison, not just a cafeteria. The people around her, though, seemed not to care, continuing on with their lives as if they weren't going to experience the same day over and over for the rest of their lives. She shook that thought from her mind and decided she might need friends to survive the monotony of this building.

A group of women sat a nearby table and the air seemed to grow colder the closer she got to them, though that may have just been her imagination. First impressions, she thought to herself, and brought as real-looking a smile as she could to her face.

"Hi I'm new here and I just thought tha-"

"No thanks." Her words were cut off by a rough sounding voice. It took her a moment to put the words to a face, but she eventually saw the relatively tall woman in the center of the group. Her stained red lips were the only color on her, her dark hair fading to grey, and her skin almost as pale as the milk she was drinking. Her eyes held a sharp look, but were dull as if some forbidden emotion layed behind them. The other group members averted their eyes as she glanced around at them and she decided to take a hint.

"Noted."

The next prospective group sat in a corner table and, upon noticing her gaze, just shook their heads. Wow, she thought to herself, what a sociable bunch. Smiling slightly at her own joke, she decided to sit at a nearby empty table, pausing her mission for friends in exchange for a little time to think about her situation.

An immortal with a life sentence; it sounded like the start of a joke, and she was still waiting for the punchline. What was she supposed to say when fifty years pass and she still looks twenty years old? How can she explain why she is still alive when her prison stay reaches its centennial anniversary? She racked her brain for an answer and, upon finding none, decided it was a problem for a future version of herself.

"You want some food? They're going to run out of the good stuff soon." A new voice cut through her thoughts and forced her back into her surroundings. A look to her left revealed a short, plump woman who looked more like a friend's mom who would invite you in for cookies rather than an inmate in a high-security prison. "I brought an extra pudding if you would like it," she spoke again, not minding her companion's silence.

"Sure, thanks...," her voice trailing off as she realized she had no name to tack on the end of the sentence.

"Margaret, but most everyone calls me Maggie. Feel free to do the same, sweetheart." Maggie smiled the same smile she had before, a toothy smile that seemed to blind anyone who looks at her too closely. She passes a pudding cup from her tray across the table and watched as she started to slowly eat it, favoring hunger over taste. "What can I call you then, honey?"

Rule #1: Don't let anyone know your true name.

That gave her pause, her spoon stopping inches from her mouth as she thought of an appropriate response. She could see the old man look up at her, as if hearing the conversation and reminding her of her promises. Her real name had not passed through her lips in centuries. A dozen alias she had used over the years sprang to mind, but the one that came out was, "Joanna."

Time seemed to stop. The spoon fell back into the pudding cup, tipping it sideways. The noises around her dulled and she could feel hot pressure behind her eyes. Why had she given that name, one that she had not spoken in nearly as long as her own name? A glance in the old man's direction showed her surprise mirrored on his face, though his eyes shown with pain and guilt before he went back to his book.

Maggie didn't seem to notice Joanna's internal struggle and continued on the conversation. "What a beautiful name! You know, my neighbors had a niece whose name was Joanna too, right around your age, though she spelled her name with a 'h', believe it or not. You might be wondering where that 'h' was, and let me tell you, it's not where you'd imagine it was." Her words washed over Joanna as she struggled to straighten herself out after her slip up. Joanna, she thought once more to herself, Joanna, I'm so sorry.

Don't forget about me in your next life.