Decisions

“You, Rebecca Krycek, the daughter of traitors,” Victus said to her, beaming in pride, “You will be my ambassador to the nations.”
****

Rebecca looked at him dumbfounded, mouth agape and all as she circled around him in disbelief.

“What?  No.  No!” she protested as she found her voice.  “I cannot do this!  How could you even ask this of me?  There are people- I didn’t- I’m not-” she stammered as she ran a hand through her hair.  She looked over at the Cardinal, expecting to see him angry, but instead, he smiled a patient, knowing smile.  She sighed and her hand dropped to her side. “I mean, Cardinal-”

“Call me Kasamir,” he interjected kindly.  Rebecca chuckled as she shook her head.

“Kasamir?” she tried with an eyebrow raised, uncertain as to what scheme he was pulling on her.  He merely nodded with approval.  “Right then.  Kasamir,” she mumbled to herself, not sure as to what she had gotten herself into anymore since Atalus had brought her here.  “Look, Kasamir.  I never asked you for this!  For any of this!” she said as she gestured to the grand hall of the receiving room around them.  He smiled again at her, a trait of his that was quickly getting on her nerves.

“And that is what made you the best candidate,” he replied as he stepped towards her.  “You never needed to ask Rebecca,” he said as he placed his hand on her shoulder.  She shivered involuntarily at his touch as for a fleeting second, she saw her father again.  She looked up at him, her defenses weakened as tears filled her eyes and threatened to fall.  “You shoulder a burden,” he said knowingly.  She bit her lip and looked away from him.  “I know that you have begged Atalus for action against the slave trade, as well as other things dear to your heart, but he denied you.”  She looked at him now in awe.

“How did you know?” she asked in a hoarse whisper.  He wiped a tear from her eye.  “Did he tell you?”

“He didn’t.  But he is human, Rebecca,” he reminded her.  “And far from perfect,” he chuckled.  “He already has much to do, to add more to his burden he bears may very well break him and destroy what little of him remains.  Another must carry that torch- be the voice of freedom.  That will be you,” he said.

“But I don’t want-”

“You do though.  You have always wanted this, Rebecca.  To be heard.  To be respected.  To be powerful.  I know much about you,” he said with a nod.  Her admiration of the man slipped and she turned her back on him after roughly snapping herself out of his grasp.

“And what would you know of me?” she huffed.

“You were ten when your family was murdered and you were left to die in a fire,” he replied.

“Anyone would know that,” she retorted as she tugged the sleeves of her gown down.

“They were executed- cut down as traitors to the crown, though no trial was held and no evidence procured.  Yet it was deemed necessary to kill you all.   And after you miraculously evaded your own fate, a death sentence was placed over your head.  Had Caspian not intervened as he did, you too would have died.  But you lived on, hating yourself for your survival, even questioning your own sanity at times.  Was it an angel that saved you?  Or had it been something else?  How surprised were you when you discovered that Atalus had also survived his own execution?” Kasamir asked her, catching her off guard.

“His own execution?” Rebecca asked him.  “No. They tried to murder him like they did the rest of the nobles of the Haunted Quarter!” she protested.  Kasamir winced at this.

“My dear Rebecca, history is not always what it seems.  It is tainted, for history is written by the victors.  Perhaps one day Atalus will tell you why they tried to kill him that night,” he said.

“What are you saying?” she demanded lowly.

“It is not my place to tell you that.  Only Atalus can tell you but only when it is time to tell it.  It cannot be coerced or bribed from him.  Indeed not even he remembers the truth right now,” he said.  Rebecca paled at that as an icy fear clutched tightly around her heart.  How much did Kasamir really know that he never told them or anyone for that matter?

“I have frightened you,” he stated, drawing her from her contemplative state.  She looked at him, fearing that he could now see past her and into her very soul, dredging out the darkest corners and bringing to light the side of her that she never wanted anyone to ever see, let alone herself.  “You have spent much of your life hiding in the darkness, afraid for the next breath you draw.  Nothing was guaranteed and you had to fight for every second, proving yourself and your right to life to people who could care less for your heart beat.  People used you- they knew that you could not provoke them or fight back.  How they crippled you is a shame and a crime, Rebecca,” he told her.  She could hear the sympathy in his voice.  He sincerely meant what he said to her.  She turned slightly and looked back at him, and felt the chill of a tear drop onto her shoulder and run down her chest and onto the fabric of the gown.  She turned away from him.  “You no longer have to hide in the shadows, Rebecca.  You can fight back now- for yourself and others.  You can be the voice of those who can no longer speak for themselves- the voice that brings justice that the blood of your family cries for.  You could be the voice of the downtrodden and dejected.  Under my banner, you could not be touched,” he told her sincerely.  Rebecca turned to him and pulled up one of her sleeves, baring the scars to his eyes.

“I am ugly and deformed.  Why would they listen to me?” she asked him.  He didn’t wince or even show that her scars disturbed him.  Instead he took her hand into his and looked at her very earnestly.

“Scars are not ugly, nor do they deform you.  And they most certainly do not define you,” he told her.  He looked down at her arm, his finger tracing one of the jagged scars on her wrist from where the glass cut her.  “They only hold as much power over you as you let them.  Your scars tell your story of the injustice done to you and your survival.  They tell of a strong young woman with the will to fight on and survive.  To many, it is what makes you a hero.  Not a freak.”  Rebecca bit her lip as the tears rose to her eyes once more.  She blinked hard, trying to fight them as she always did.  “It’s alright,” he comforted her as he drew her into an embrace.  “There is no shame in crying, Rebecca,” he said as he held her.  The sobs racked her body as he held her as she cried on his shoulder.  Could this man really be speaking the truth?  Would people want to listen to her?

“You really want me to be your ambassador?” she asked him finally.  He held her out at arm’s length and seemed to study her.

“Yes. Yes I do.  You have a power, Rebecca.  Powers to do amazing things that you will only beginning to realize,” he told her.

“I think you’re bluffing,” she replied, though with a smile.  It did feel good to be complimented.  He laughed in reply as he put his arms around her shoulders and began to usher her away from the private chamber they were in and back out to the main receiving hall.  There, he placed his fingers to his lips and pointed to a figure sitting quietly on one of the benches, reading a book.  He couldn’t see them yet, and she realized Kasamir had meant it to be this way.

“He is already under your spell,” he said loud enough only for her to hear him.  “Never before has he brought anyone with him to see me.  Nor has he ever been in the company of a woman like he has been with you.  He may indeed be our Atalus Dragon from Tadington.  But he is also my godson, Rebecca.   You will both be playing dangerous games now, and that is why it is important that you understand your power over him.  I will stop at nothing to keep him safe,” he cautioned her.

“Why are you telling me this?” she asked him as he led her back to the private chamber.

“Do you love him?” he asked her.  She looked at him in surprise.

“That’s none of your business!” she snapped.

“A time is coming very soon, and by the time you finally decide with your heart, it will be too late.  Dark things are in your future, Rebecca Krycek.  But they are darker yet if you chose the path entwined with his,” he explained.  “I am giving you the option to walk away from him- to forget him forever and choose a path of happiness,” he stated firmly.  Rebecca opened the door quietly and looked out at him as he sat.  “You must chose now the path you will take,” he told her.  She looked over at him, affronted.

“What difference would it make-” she began hotly.

“Destiny is not made of big choices, Rebecca, but rather it is formed by the small, mundane choices that make up our everyday lives.  You will look back on this conversation in later days and realize it was now that you made your mind up as to what you would do.  And it will be these next few hours that will forever shape the rest of your life.  I am just hoping you make the choice that is best for both of you,” he explained.  Rebecca huffed and looked out at Atalus.  Could she really forget him?  

Had she forgotten him for all of the years she thought him to be dead?

“I see that you have decided then,” he said, though she could not help but notice that he sounded sad.  “Let’s go then, Rebecca,” he said as he gave her his arm.  “Dinner shall be served soon, and it will be a delight to have you join us.  We will continue our discussion tomorrow, should you chose to become my ambassador.”  Rebecca nodded in reply, but she could not help but ponder his cryptic messages in her heart and mind.  They deeply troubled her yet she showed no sign of her resolve halting.  If she plunged head long off a cliff, so be it.  

History was written by the victors, after all.