The Pawn Who Would Be Queen

Orzel stared blankly ahead at the wall of the waiting room, nervously fidgeting in her seat as jazzy music played from a nearby radio. The room was painted an inviting shade of blue, the hardwood floor well worn, illuminated by two large windows facing the eastern portion of Canterlot. Situated on the fifth floor, Orzel could see a fair bit of this section of the city, including the alabaster towers and walls of Canterlot Castle in the middle-distance. Several paintings of birds lined the walls, as well as a small series of poster urging the reader not to 'lose hope'. Seated as she was upon a blue and white striped couch, Orzel had been waiting for nearly twenty minutes while Luna was in the other room, speaking with the teen's new counselor...

According to Orzel's own research into the counselor, they held doctorates in several psychological fields, as well as a Masters degree in 'Music Theory' of all things. Pictures of the woman were virtually non-existent, as she apparently didn't care to have her photograph taken, something that Orzel could wholly understand. Several photographs of herself were already surfacing in just the few short weeks since her first, and only, visit to Miss Pirouette's Dance Studio. The cat was out of the bag that she was a Drake, and now all of Equestria knew what she looked like. Evidence of that fact couldn't be any clearer than upon the covers of several magazines that lined an end table beside the couch, all bearing pictures of Orzel alongside numerous headlines making outrageous claims.

A few of the more slanderous articles claimed Orzel was actually Luna's illegitimate daughter, and that her adoption was only a ruse to allow her to sit on the throne. Others were asserting that Luna kidnapped Orzel somehow, and she never left the Castle because a vaguely mentioned 'they' didn't want her to 'escape'... Those were the more scandalous and outrageous articles she'd heard of, though thankfully not included among the magazines arrayed in the waiting room.

The articles present were far more critical of Orzel's 'frumpy' choice of wardrobe, or her refusal to wear makeup, or the fact that she wasn't a 'real Equestrian'. Some even referred to Agent's Grim and Fable as the two towering mountains of muscle that served as her 'personal goons'. Said 'goons' were seated near the outer door, their chairs barely containing their considerable bulk.

The 'failure' of her two bodyguards to intercede at the park turned out to be a bit more complicated than Orzel first realized, something that ultimately neither she nor Luna could hold against them. Their reasoning for leaving her in the care of two strangers whilst she suffered a panic attack was that Grim and Fable were only two people, and despite their considerable size, they couldn't be everywhere at once. An apparently more pressing threat to Orzel's safety had arisen, so they'd made the decision to deal with that instead... A Hot Dog Cart operator apparently hadn't realized he was following a Princess, or that he was following anyone at all... At least, that was the story Orzel was informed of.

To ensure that such a security risk never happened again, Orzel would now travel under the watchful guard a cadre of Nocturne Agents whenever leaving the Castle, with Grim and Fable still serving as her personal bodyguards. That essentially put an end to her days walking wherever she wanted, exploring the world as she saw fit, for the foreseeable future... Her brief foray into Canterlot was at least fun while it lasted, up until the ending, at any rate. Now, once a week, Orzel would be dragged from the safety of the Castle in order to speak to the enigmatic Doctor Scratch. If the Nocturne Agency was so keen to keep her safe, then why make her leave? Why not have the Doctor just visit her at the Castle instead? Undoubtedly it was supposed to be another one of Luna's lessons about 'confidence in the face of adversity'...

Both Grim and Fable were reading magazines, the pages of which were comically small within their massive meaty paws, with Grim reading 'Athletics Illuminated' and Fable engrossed in the latest issue of 'Capital'... The former was fairly self-explantory, but Orzel's only clue to the contents of the latter publication was a picture of a portly eldered businessman on the cover, he was smoking a large cigar, and cradled in his arms a bolt-action rifle. The tag line read something like 'Double Aught: Remembering a Titan of the Industry'. She deduced therefore that this was some sort of financial publication... At least it wasn't one of those ugly pictures of her...

The girl sighed, straightening her overly puffy light blue skirt and tapping her foot anxiously on the floor. The skirt and blouse that accompanied it were also the result of having had her photograph taken, as stated her tunic and trouser ensemble was considered too 'frumpy' at best and downright 'ugly' at worst. It was fine to wear within the confines of the Castle, but that was the extent of it, at least for another two years or so, at which point Orzel would be an adult and could dress however she very well pleased. Out of habit she brushed a lock of her hair back behind her ear, then straightened her spectacles with a huff. Her skin itched uncomfortably, yet another result of her entering the public consciousness.

She needed to wear makeup, now that the world knew what she looked like, because Drakes were 'intimidating and unseemly', and hardly 'Royal material'. According to one of the more hurtful articles, at any rate... Luna tried to keep them out of sight, but to little avail. Both the outfit and the makeup were two of the many things demanded by the Noble Party members on the National Council. According to them, if Orzel was to one day represent Equestria, and Equestria's interests, she would have to start looking the part. Of course Orzel's counter to that was that she had yet to actually represent Equestria or its interests in any official capacity, though she wasn't averse to the idea...

Luna tried to smooth things over, declaring the changes to only be temporary, and that the demands were more intended to hurt Luna than anyone else. Orzel then had to wonder if she wasn't being misled about the 'benefits' of having a Council to begin with... She already hated herself enough already, she already understood she'd never be good enough... Why couldn't they just leave her alone? How much more of herself would Orzel need to change in order to uphold her new duties as a Princess, how many more personal concessions would be necessary before the National Council and world at large was satisfied? Would they ever stop harassing her?

Before Orzel could enter the oncoming spiral of maddening anxiety, however, there came the abrupt click of a door knob turning. All eyes darted up to face the entryway to the Doctor's office, which slowly swung inwards to reveal the familiar form of Princess Luna. Grim and Fable rose to their feet out of respect while Orzel remained seated, still nervously tapping her foot as she awaited her Mother's voice.

"She is waiting for you." Luna said gently in Szafirian, gesturing inside the room. Orzel couldn't see the doctor from this angle, but obediently rose from her seat and trudged towards the door. "I will be here if you need me." The girl only gave the faintest of nods, desperately wishing she had a pair of pockets to tuck her hands into.

Orzel pushed the door closed behind her, making sure it latched shut, then finally turned to face her new counselor. The office was much the same as the waiting room, with a desk off in the corner piled high with manilla colored folders. A few gold records hung on the far wall, beside several fancy looking diplomas and a framed photograph of two women standing in front of Canterlot Castle. None of this was surprising on its own... No, that honor fell to the good Doctor herself. Orzel's jaw dropped for a brief moment, her eyes darting over the strange yet familiar features.

The electric blue hair, the rose colored eyes, the confident poise... Orzel recognized them all from her brief day of wandering, more accurately the ending portion of that day. Gone, however, were the strange sunglasses and spiky hair. The striking red eyes were now unobstructed, the hair pulled neatly back into a bun that mimicked Orzel's own typical style. Where once the woman had worn a tank top, now she wore a well pressed skirt and sweater. This was the enigmatic Doctor Vinyl Scratch, and only now did Orzel put the pieces together that Doctor Scratch was the same Vinyl she'd briefly bared her heart to.

Awkwardly rubbing the back of her neck, the teen quietly crossed the floor and took a seat on a couch across from the waiting doctor's own armchair. Taking a brief inhale through her nose, Orzel pursed her lips and tried her best not to panic... What were Luna and the Doctor talking about before she came in? Obviously about her, but about what... What if the Doctor had told her something?

"Orzel?" Vinyl's voice snapped the teen from her once again spiraling voice. "I'm guessing you weren't expecting to see me again, huh?" Orzel nodded cautiously, gripping one of the couch arms for support. "When we first met I admit I didn't recognize your name, I'd been contacted about you before... Your Mother filled me in on your situation, how you came to be here, how you've been faring since your arrival... She's very concerned about you." Orzel nodded again, too frightened to speak, as if sharing her butchery of Equestrian would be just one humiliation too far.

"I'm told you appreciate making things as plain as they can be, so let me start by saying that I am your therapist." The woman stated emphatically. "I may be paid by the Crown, but I work for you. Whatever you say to me within this office, or anywhere else for that matter, stays between the two of us, unless you give me permission to tell someone else. The only time where this doesn't apply is if I believe you pose a danger to yourself or others." She gestured to a box of tissues. "This is a safe place for you to express your emotions, Orzel. If you want to cry, you can cry. If you're angry, be angry... Don't bottle it up... You with me so far?" Again, all Orzel could do was nod. "Awesome! Do you have any questions for me?"

"I can say what-ever, you no tell? Really?" Orzel asked, inwardly groaning as she stumbled through the question. Vinyl nodded, smiling that confident smile of hers as she picked up a pad of paper from the table beside her seat, as well as a pen which she clicked in anticipation. "Where should I start...?" This time Vinyl shrugged, and Orzel supposed this was her signal to begin... Luna apparently trusted this woman, and even if the two were at odds, Orzel still trusted her Mother's ability to judge a person's character. In a way Orzel had already started talking to Vinyl once before, even if she hadn't realized it... She could do that again, couldn't she? "I hate wear-ring stupid skirt, and make-up... Is imp-rack-tickle, and makes me feel... Strange... But Mother says I must, to be good Princess..."

"How does wearing a skirt and makeup make you feel strange?" Vinyl asked, effortlessly scribbling something down on her notepad. Orzel paused for a moment, trying to think of how best to articulate her feelings. On the surface her reasoning for hating the clothing and makeup was rather clear, but there was just something about looking 'Princess-y' that drew out a feeling of guilt... How could she put that into words the Doctor would understand? Her spoken Equestrian was atrocious... Then Orzel's eyes fell upon the pen and paper, and in that moment she had an idea. Clearing her throat, Orzel tried to purge her mind of wayward thoughts, no easy feat considering the situation.

"My thoughts and words must be seen, let the air show what they mean." Orzel said in Szafirian, and before her very eyes there appeared a small glowing orb of blue arcane energy. Vinyl stared at it and Orzel curiously, apparently intrigued to see just where this was going. With mild reluctance, the Princess opened her mouth and spoke her mother tongue. "Did that work?" The orb darted around, forming letters as quickly as she spoke them, eventually leaving the Equestrian translation lingering in the air for around five seconds or so. Orzel couldn't suppress a smile, now she could finally make some progress. Once again she spoke in Szafirian, and her spell moved right along with her. "Being forced to wear this... Costume... Makes me feel powerless, and guilty on some level, I suppose..."

"Feeling powerless is a perfectly natural response, and we'll get to that, but what about your attire makes you feel guilty? From what I've been told, it's not that different to style among your people, yet you've shunned it here. Why?" Vinyl's question caught Orzel by surprise, it seemed Luna really had caught the woman up on everything... A sudden rush of guilt and shame washed over her, and try as she might, she couldn't hide its effects. "Do you think maybe it makes you feel guilty because it's a 'feminine' thing to do, and those things remind you of an aspect of yourself you've been told to feel ashamed of?"

"No... Maybe...? I do not know." Orzel muttered defensively, watching the sparkling orb of magic dance about the air before her. Luna may have told the Doctor something, but that didn't mean Orzel had to admit to it. On the proverbial back foot, she fell back on her love for books, how their thick bound forms could protect her in that moment. If she threw out enough words and made them sound important, maybe she could throw the counselor off the scent. "They are impractical, and take up valuable time to put on that I could more wisely spend catching up to my scholastic peers." Vinyl smiled knowingly at her, in that same way Luna occasionally did when she knew Orzel was obfuscating. "I am not... That way, okay? I do not know what Mother has told you, but I like boys! How can I like boys and be that way? Why do you care so much?"

"I'm not saying you don't like boys." Vinyl evenly stated, still scribbling down notes on her pad. "I gather you place a lot of stock into science and engineering... Is that right?" Orzel nodded, though she didn't fully see where the counselor was going, or why this particular subject was so important. "If two gears must fit together in order for an engine to work properly, but one of them is misaligned, that engine won't do very well, will it?" Orzel shook her head. "So if a person is at odds with themselves over a matter such as the topic we're discussing, is it not logical to assume that they too would have trouble doing well?"

"Wouldn't you agree that it could make moving on in the wake of tragedy that much more difficult?" The Doctor postulated with that same even, logical tone. Orzel thought for a few moments, running through the Doctor's reasoning, before ultimately sighing in concession. "It's a pressing concern I see right now, and it's something that if we don't catch it sooner, will be incredibly difficult to deal with later. We need to align those gears, however they end up going together, and the first step is to be honest with yourself..."

"You do not understand..." Orzel said defeatedly, looking at the floor and ringing her hands, the orb carrying on its translation. Gradually it became less noticeable, at least from Orzel's perspective... Vinyl still seemed to be following along, thankfully. "If I came out and said I like girls as well as boys before coming here, my Mother and Father would have disowned me. They would not have tried so hard to save me, and maybe they would still be alive..." Her voice cracked slightly, and she realized she was confronting a side of the issue she hadn't even known existed until that very moment. She had survived, and her parents didn't... So long as she maintained the lie, their deaths still held noble meaning. Yet the genie was out of the bottle, and Orzel knew she couldn't stuff it back in.

"Or they would've tried just as hard regardless..." Vinyl offered, briefly setting down her pen and folding her hands into her lap. "Princess Luna told you that being a lesbian or bisexual is accepted here in Equestria, yes? Did she tell you there are still some, even today, that don't accept it?" Orzel shook her head, listening intently as the doctor continued. "I have had several patients in a similar situation to what you've described, they tell their families and for whatever reason are shunned for it... But over time, more often than not, their families come to see that the person they always loved before is still there, and that they are still worth loving."

The teen stared at Vinyl for a few tense moments, then her eyes flitted to one of the windows, her thoughts running faster than her mind could keep up. For the past few months she'd been thinking of her Mother and Father as they had been, staunch traditionalists, inflexible to change of any kind... Caring and loving, but expectant of certain behavior from their only child. Maybe what Vinyl said was a baldfaced lie, just something to help grease the 'gears' and let Orzel take one step closer to accepting herself. Orzel wanted to believe that wasn't the case, that when it really mattered most, her parents would have come to accept her for whoever she was, or whomever she happened to love. Truth or lie, the words had profound impact on Orzel, giving her the final push... Taking a deep breath, Orzel closed her eyes and exhaled.

"I like girls and boys... There, I said it..." She finally admitted, and as the words left her lips a proverbial key was turned. An emotional lock came undone, and Orzel felt as if a great weight was lifted from her shoulders. Saying the words became a little easier, on some deeper level it seemed she'd always known... She couldn't lie to herself anymore. Vinyl smiled at the admission, picking up her pen and pad once more to scribble something down. "I... I have been thinking of myself as a degenerate... Hating myself for being unworthy of saving." The girl leaned hear head back, looking upwards at the ceiling. "I just want to be myself, not subject to the whims of others..."

"Yet another reason I wanted to cover this topic." Doctor Scratch explained, finishing her current note and setting the pad on the arm of her chair. "The National Council may demand adherence to a dress code, but what they can't do is control what's up here... In your mind." The woman tapped the side of her head. "You can exert control over your own mind, and in so doing, make the physical discomforts of the world less bothersome. It will take time to train your mind to think differently, so don't expect results right away." Orzel nodded quietly, once again considering what Vinyl was saying, this time with a little less stress on her mind.

"Now, to change topics, I want to ask you a couple more questions." Doctor Scratch continued. "I want you to be as honest with me as possible, okay?" Orzel nodded. "Given what's happened I'm sure you're not feeling all that positive of late, but... Have you had any thoughts of self-harm or suicide?" The silence that followed was almost deafening, and Orzel visibly leaned back in her chair. After a few moments of hesitant contemplation, she gave the faintest of nods. "Have you acted on any of these thoughts?" Orzel shook her head. "What sort of thoughts are they? Describe them."

"I... Do not really know what to say..." Orzel mumbled quietly, looking at the floor as those thoughts of self-loathing and grief awoke from their slumber. They came sprinting at her, full tilt, no restraint, no remorse, barreling down upon her like a tidal wave. "I miss my Mother and my Father... I miss my home... Flawed as it was, it was my home." Her eyes began to water, and as usual she tried to rein her feelings in... Doctor Scratch merely used her magic to levitate the box of tissues to Orzel, wordlessly imploring her not to fight. "I... I lost everything..." Tears streamed down Orzel's cheeks, her breaths coming in slow shuddering sounds. "On top of that I hate myself, for what I am... I cannot stop feeling that I am a stupid, worthless, garbage person... That my adoptive family is wasting their time." She wiped at her eyes with one of the tissues. "Together it is too much... I have trouble seeing a way out. So... Then the thoughts come... Sometimes I just think about how nice it might be to just... Go to sleep and never wake up...."

"Do you really want to die, or is it more that you don't want to feel that way anymore?" Doctor Scratch's voice was soft but probing, and the distinction she made between the two was one that hadn't occurred to Orzel before. She wasn't entirely sure there was even a difference at first, but as she thought on the matter, it dawned on her that there was... There were times when she wanted nothing more than to see what life had to offer... To study new things, to learn and grow as she never could before.

"I do not want to die, no... I do not want to feel this way anymore... Everything hurts..." Orzel admitted, still allowing the tears to flow freely. "Please... Help me." She squeaked, and for the first time she saw Doctor Scratch's professionalism falter. It quickly reasserted itself, taking hold with an iron will.

"That's why your family brought you here, Orzel. They want to help you. I want to help you too." She declared stoutly, scribbling more in her notes and leaning forward. "To do that, I need to ask you a few more questions, are you feeling up to them?" Despite the emotions surging inside her, Orzel responded with another small nod. "Okay... Would you say that you have problems with other intrusive thoughts? Fear? Dread? Worry?" Orzel nodded again, by now she would be unable to stop crying even if she wanted do. "What, if anything, helps you recover from those thoughts? What do you do to try and take back control?"

"I read... I work on my model ships..." Orzel wiped at her eyes again, then bit her lower lip. "Sometimes I make little scenes for them. Dioramas, I think they are called." The girl sighed heavily, and though the tears flowed, she was managing to better gather her thoughts. "The relief never lasts." The Doctor nodded again, further jotting down her thoughts on her notepad. The girl looked at the window, then back at the floor. "May I ask another question?" The woman nodded. "Sometimes I feel better, excited even... Still, I do not remember what it feels like to be happy. I do not remember if I ever was happy... Am I... Broken?" Doctor Scratch quietly set her pen down.

"You've suffered an unspeakable loss, Orzel... More than that, you find yourself on an entirely different planet, thrust into a situation you never could have hoped to prepare for, even if you knew it was coming." The Doctor stated simply. "Despite all that you've been through, you're still here. You're still holding on, still fighting..." She folded her hands into her lap. "Are you broken...? No. Are you hurting? Absolutely. Who wouldn't be? As for happiness? As I said, you're hurting. It's hard to think about happiness when there's so much pain. In time, as we talk more and more, the pain will fade, and you won't have such a hard time remembering. Unfortunately it's not something that can be rushed, though it can be sped along in here..." The woman gestured about the office, then resumed her note taking.

"Can you tell me about your sleeping and eating habits?" Doctor Scratch continued. "Then we can go over some stress management techniques, as well as some questions regarding other issues your Mother informed me of. Don't worry, we've got plenty of time, so we'll cover them as slow or as fast as you feel comfortable with..." Orzel nodded quietly, folding her hands in her lap. From then on she recounted whatever information the Doctor requested, placing hopeful trust in 'the process'...

In part her cooperation was inspired by the Doctor's professional attitude, but the overall driving force was the simple desire not to hurt anymore. To her continuing surprise, just giving voice to her feelings, letting them flow unabated or restrained, felt just as liberating as admitting to that truth she'd denied herself of late. Here she could speak of the unspeakable, broach the unapproachable, as had never been the case in her old life... As they continued on, speaking of her hopes for her future as a Princess of Equestria, those bitter tears of sadness grew to a more positive light... Orzel resolved to herself that there would be no secrets far as Doctor Scratch was concerned, because in the long run all that would be doing is prolonging her pain...

It was the waiting that Luna hated most, the quiet contemplation, wondering just what was happening beyond that heavy slab of wood that separated her from her daughter. Doctor Scratch was one of the final names on Celestia's list of possible counselors, and ultimately it was fate that had decided it would be she who assumed the role. Her chance interaction with Orzel in Statesman Park, coupled with her extensive experience with 'unusual' cases, all but assured her candidacy. Scratch was also apparently well acquainted with the Music industry, with quite a few well selling albums under a pseudonym, though by her own admission it was more a hobby than anything else... Despite all the Doctor's lofty achievements and glowing recommendations, Luna still felt uneasy leaving her daughter in the care of a nearly complete stranger.

The waiting room was comfortable enough, she supposed, though the choice in magazines was a serious point of contention upon her first meeting with Doctor Scratch. The Doctor was quick to assure her that no such magazines would remain upon Orzel's next visit, though there was little that could be done at the moment. Every journalist and paparazzi squad in Canterlot was hounding Luna's daughter, seeking any sort of 'scoop', and of course spinning it all negatively. They were in the business of selling magazines and newspapers, and the worse something seemed on paper, the more likely it was to sell... It was their photographs that so enraged the Noble Party, which further resulted in the 'decency demands' regarding Orzel's wardrobe and overall appearance. There'd existed considerable push back from the non-aligned members of the National Council, but the opposition was hardly focused enough.

Now Orzel was hardly speaking to either Luna or Celestia, and Luna couldn't really blame her. It was a very disturbing feeling, to be on the other side of the mirror, as it were... So many times Celestia told Luna that she needed to change something about herself for 'the good of the country', yet there she was, doing the same thing to her own daughter for the same vague reason. There were few legal options available to counter the demands, not without incurring the wrath of the National Council's singular unified political party. A few possible bills were put forward, but they'd never pass given the Noble Party's stranglehold. Luna briefly considered a 'sledgehammer' approach, bringing those involved in the plot to block Orzel's ascension to the throne up on charges. That, however, would leave little ammunition to deal with the actual ascension problem if it should arise.

At present there was no other choice but to concede, lest the wheels of government come screeching to a halt. More and more the members of the ironically named Noble Party cultivated the ire of Princess Luna, and now Princess Celestia as well. They'd turned what was supposed to be a legislative body meant to ease the rigors of rule into their own personal clubhouse, recklessly wielding power and bludgeoning their opponents and even the Crown itself with threats of inaction that would leave the nation paralyzed. There was no organized opposition to their power, though the non-aligned councilors consistently put up a decent fight. Were it not for them, Luna had no doubts that Equestria's government would have crumbled under its own weight long ago... Something would need to be done to correct the course, though there seemed little in the way of legal action the Crown could take, short of disbanding the council altogether.

"There is a thought..." Luna mumbled idly, rubbing her chin with mild interest. Disbanding the Council would be a disaster for a whole host of other reasons, as the day to day rigors of running Equestria would then need to be undertaken solely by the Crown. In Equestria's infancy, when it was small and unstable, the system of absolute monarchy worked fine... Now, after more than a thousand years of governmental and territorial growth, direct rule simply wasn't an option. Even so, Luna was well familiar with Equestria's legal system, if there was anyone that could conceive a measured but meaningful response, it would be her. If that failed, she'd just have to bite the proverbial bullet and enrage the Nobles. The woman sighed, shaking her head and looking at one of the magazines on the table beside the couch. Fashion Monthly, a detestable Noble Party rag, hardly worth the paper it was printed on.

Picking it up, she examined the cover, a photograph of her daughter in the Castle Foyer, obviously caught off guard. The main article was, of course, about how the new Crown-Princess dressed like a 'grungy commoner'. Luna didn't dignify the piece by reading it, instead she quietly seethed and tossed the magazine back onto the table. Fashion Monthly was one of the most widely read magazines in Equestria, how many people were reading about her daughter's 'crime of fashion', how many were agreeing with it? Princess Cadenza hadn't faced this much backlash when it was announced she would join the Crown... Then again, Celestia was the one to choose Cadenza, and obviously Celestia could do no wrong in the eyes of the public. Gods only knew just how much damage the outcry would do to Orzel's perception of Equestria's system of government.

Luna shook her head, driving the bitter thought from her mind before it could take root. Instead of focusing on the negative aspects of the situation, she should've been focusing on the positive ones. Orzel didn't want to talk to her, but Luna suspected that would pass given enough time... An idea was taking shape in Luna's mind, one that hopefully Orzel would be on board to help her with. The National Council wanted Orzel to dress and look like a Princess, but a Princess wasn't fully dressed without regalia, so Luna would simply lone the Obsidian Crown to Orzel until they could get a more proper one. Luna's daughter wearing the Obsidian Crown and assorted regalia would end any debate as to her position as Crown-Princess, after all, it was the Party's idea. The Party's worst nightmare would be realized, and it would all be the result of their own posturing.

The doorknob clicked loudly, and as before all eyes in the waiting room darted to the Doctor's office. Luna glanced at a clock on the wall, nearly three hours passed since Orzel first entered the separate chamber. The teen stepped through the door, her eyes bloodshot, her cheeks streaked with tears, yet her mouth curved upwards in a weak saddened smile. Doctor Scratch wasn't far behind, appearing rather pleased as well as she leaned in the doorway. The Princess rose from her seat, just in time for Orzel to walk up to her and wrap her in a tight hug. Luna looked at the Doctor in surprise, but quickly returned the embrace. As if reading Luna's mind, the Doctor spoke first.

"We had a very productive first session..." Declared Scratch with a smile, casually crossing her arms. "Your daughter is remarkably articulate when given the chance to speak properly, you should be proud." Luna blinked in confusion, but noted the Doctor's brief insistent glance at Orzel, who still was tightly hugging Luna.

"Of course I am, I always have been..." The Princess said gently, patting her daughter on the back. She didn't really know what brought her daughter to tears, but this was the happiest Orzel had been in the weeks following her city excursion, though Luna more than suspected she wasn't truly happy. After a few more moments Orzel let go, taking a step back and lifting her glasses to wipe at her eyes. The girl's smile had increased considerably, something that Luna was all too glad to see... She knew she'd made the right choice. "How are you feeling, Dear? Better?"

"Not yet..." Orzel responded in Szafirian, pursing her lips. "But I will get better, with time..." Luna nodded in understanding, it was a mindset she'd had more than a few times in her life. Hearing Orzel say it, however, was a considerable load off of her mind. At first Luna was worried Orzel wouldn't trust the idea of therapy, and without trust in that regard therapy would hardly work, but it seemed she'd been thankfully mistaken in that respect. Given how much the girl tended to read, it was likely Orzel had access to more than enough information to draw her own conclusions, thankfully those conclusions were in the positive. "May I go to the carriage, I am feeling slightly tired..."

"I do not see why not..." Luna responded, glancing to Grim and Fable. The two stoic thestrals hadn't moved an inch from their seats save for when they stood up. "Agents, would you please escort Orzel to the carriage, I had a few questions I wanted to ask Doctor Scratch before I join you." The two agents nodded, walking towards the door and holding it open for Orzel. The girl exited the waiting room with a surprising amount of poise, and her hulking bodyguards weren't far behind, closing the door as they passed from view. Luna's eyes returned to Doctor Scratch, the woman now having adopted a more professional stance in the young Princess's brief departure. "I have not seen her like this before, may I ask what you discussed?"

"Orzel has given me permission to speak to you on certain subjects, those are the only ones I can tell you about." Doctor Scratch stated professionally, gesturing for Luna to follow her back into the office. The Princess followed, taking a seat on the couch while the Doctor resumed her place in her armchair. "She's a very troubled girl, but all things considered that's not necessarily surprising. Her panic attack in the park isn't her first, but thankfully I don't believe she's developed a Panic Disorder... Not yet, at least. That could change if certain things at home don't improve."

"What must I do?" Luna asked without hesitation, earning a genuine smile of admiration from the Doctor.

"She needs her own space, first and foremost. While she has her own room, she doesn't feel like it's really hers, and that leaves her feeling backed into a corner." Doctor Scratch began, picking up a notepad from the table beside her chair and looking it over. "She realizes that, for now, she's unable to dress or look the way she wants to. You're far better aware of the parameters set upon her than I am, but whatever they are, she needs to be able to choose freely within them. More importantly, minimizing the amount of time this interference goes on is vital. She already sees herself in a very negative light, if it isn't stopped soon she could be at risk of a serious self-image crisis." Scratch shook her head, appearing genuinely stumped. "It's inconceivable to me that the Council would care so much about her looks..."

"They don't." Luna stated bluntly, which apparently took Scratch by surprise. "They are using her as a pawn, inflicting their will on her because they know it will get to me." The Princess's eyes narrowed angrily. "I agree, what they are doing should be inconceivable. I tried to show her a better world beyond the Castle walls, a civilized society worth exploring, and this is what she gets for her trouble..." Luna looked back at Scratch, sighing heavily through her nose. "What else can I do?"

"Aside from those changes, keep doing what you've been doing." Scratch stated with a bit more evident understanding, her hands folded neatly in her lap. "From what I've heard she truly enjoys spending time with you, that's not something I hear from most of my adolescent clients." The woman looked once again at her notes.

"Try convincing her to accompany you on outings. It doesn't really matter where, so long as you're with her. Having you present will help build a positive association, and eventually you can start sending her out more on her own. Hopefully by then she won't be as skeptical of the outside world as she is now." The Doctor continued evenly, Luna once again nodded, already pouring over the possibilities in her mind. "Lastly, and this one is important. She needs a more active role as a Princess, beyond just the title. A lot of what she does and how she acts now is viewed through the lens of not only being a Princess, but being your heir, and she takes that responsibility very seriously."

"I have had the same thought..." Luna explained, her mind briefly wandering back to her inner debate in the waiting room. "My Sister and I will find something suitable for her age and ability, I assure you." Doctor Scratch nodded, scribbling a few notes down on the notepad again before tearing the page free and handing it to Luna. It was a list of every change they'd discussed, as well as a few possible 'outings and activities', all very thorough and neatly ordered. A trip to the Opera, the National Museum, a ship christening ceremony, all were certainly doable, though one more so than the others. "I do have one question, Doctor..." Scratch raised an eyebrow. "Is my daughter..." Luna trailed off, trying to think of how best to describe it. It had gnawed at her since the first night Orzel had spent in the Castle, tearing at her peace of mind even as it lingered in the background. "Is she at risk of hurting herself...?"

"Had you brought her in a month or so ago, I would be unable to give a more definitive answer..." Doctor Scratch stated solemnly, placing her hands in her lap. "Her Parents' deaths were obviously very traumatic, and the subsequent crisis of faith didn't help..." The woman leaned forward in her seat, taking on an aspect of the gravest sort. "Your daughter is severely depressed, there's no way I can sugar coat it." Luna inhaled slowly through her nose, processing the statement as best she could.

"She has shared with me that she has thought of hurting herself on several occasions." Scratch declared cautiously. The Princess's blood ran cold, but the Doctor held up a calming hand. "However, having spoken with her so extensively today, I don't believe she's presently at risk." The Doctor's voice grew somber. "She will likely never fully recover from the trauma, but she will hopefully get better in time, and that is all we can try for. You did the right thing getting her help when you did." Luna bit her lip, once again needing more time to process things.

"You are certain she is not in danger...?" The woman's voice was barely a whisper, and Doctor Scratch nodded with that same profession solemnity. "I appreciate you telling me... It is a lot to take in." Luna quietly rung her hands, exhaling through her nose and looking dejectedly at the floor.

"I understand... Of course, if you notice her giving away things, excessive sleeping or lack of sleep, or anything else out of character that you think is cause for concern, I want you to call me. Immediately." The Doctor stated bluntly. "Right now she needs someone in her corner that she can trust to protect her... That someone is you." Luna's features hardened, and within her heart the sprang forth a mighty pillar of resolve unlike any she'd thus far felt before. She'd felt maternal instinct, certainly, but this was something else... Something deeper, more primal, and yet advanced in scope beyond her own comprehension. Orzel was her child, and no one and nothing would ever change that. "I think we've covered all we needed to cover... I look forward to seeing her next week."

"Of course." Luna agreed, standing from the couch and straightening her gown. "If there is nothing further, I would like to return to my daughter." Doctor Scratch nodded genially, gesturing towards the door while flipping through a few sheets of notes she'd apparently taken throughout the session, though Luna couldn't make out any words given the handwriting. The Princess shook her head, part of her knew it wasn't her place to read those notes regardless, but the newly awakened part of her desperately wanted to know. Scratch's handwriting was, however, atrocious... So Luna had little choice but to approach the door. Stopping in the doorway, she looked over her shoulder at the woman in the armchair. "Thank you, Doctor..." With that, she set off once more.

It was a cruel and unending blackness that surrounded his every thought, penetrating every facet of his being. Epic in its size, infinite in its depth, maddening and terrible in its totality. Truly no other word but madness could describe his sorry state, for no sane being could withstand that colorless void of abstract consciousness... How long had he endured its pervasive embrace? Months? Years? Eons? Perhaps it had only been mere moments... Where was his body, how could he feel so frightfully cold and stiff without even the slightest of corporeal form?

So many questions, but these all paled in comparison to the simplest and most profound question of them all... Who was he? It was a something he'd asked himself countless times, yet each time he drew a different answer. Perhaps he was an artist? A scientist? A laborer? The answers seemed so tantalizingly close, yet they passed through his mind like water through a sieve. So many questioning sensations, almost all without answer, except for one... Somehow, despite the unceasing darkness, he sensed... Change. Something was moving, jostling around, shaking the very abyss itself.

"What do you think is happening out there, hmm..? The voice was not his own, and yet it was... The voice of the Other, his perpetual tormentor throughout however long he'd been confined to his hellish existence. Even in a time when they'd been free, the Other had seized control, forcing him further and further into the deepest recesses of his own consciousness. "Really? The silent treatment? That simply won't do... After all, we both know you can hear me, I'm in your head... And I'm not going anywhere." The Other mocked, chuckling maliciously as its presence swirled in the gloom. "I'm thinking of a number between one and fifty! Guess it and I'll leave you alone... For now. Come on, y'know you want to.

He would've pursed his lips, if he had lips, quietly considering just how best to respond... If to respond at all. The Other always cheated, always made a mockery of him... Sometimes he'd manage to cobble together some form of sanity, then he'd remember things... Things from before he'd been locked away. The smell of grass, the cool water of a stream... A lyrical feminine laugh. Those memories managed to keep him from completely falling apart, perhaps it was vain hope of one day hearing those sounds again, finding the source of that laugh that filled his being with contentment and calm... Then, without fail, the Other would come along to ruin things. The Other would shatter his concentration, make some snide remark, scream or laugh at his failings. The methodology mattered little, the outcome was always the same.

Time held little meaning in the blackness, but once again he felt that subtle change, more frequent this time... A change far too weak for the Other to detect. Their prison was weakening... Somehow... To his surprise and abject horror, he heard another voice, this one distant and muffled. Not his own, not that of the Other... Gradually it drew closer, calling out in a tongue that he couldn't quite understand. It sounded familiar, yet so very alien. A woman's voice, yes, that was it... The Newcomer was desperately searching for something. That much he could understand of the twisted tongue... Something precious, something she'd lost... Nothing but silence followed, and for countless spans of madness he struggled to place the language's origin. Once again his concentration was shattered, this time by another voice... Louder, closer... As if it was right next to him.

"Containment precautions are almost complete, Sir." It was a male voice, dark and powerful. He could detect a faint hint of a Thestral accent, a thought that surprised him as it was remarkably sane and reasonable... How had he deduced that fact? How did he recognize the words? The Other was fighting him, and... Something or someone else at the same time. The mocking voice had gone notably quiet, distantly yelling at the Newcomer. Maybe now the Other would torment the Newcomer instead, and leave him alone long enough to form a coherent thought, something more than a memory. "We should be able to keep the artifact contained, for a time at least."

"The Princess doesn't share your optimism, Colonel." A far rougher voice spoke, this one hauntingly familiar. Where had he heard it before? Perhaps one of the meetings? What meetings? He couldn't remember, they were still too fuzzy, but more and more his memory was creeping back to him. If the Other remained away long enough, perhaps he could find a way to communicate with those beyond his infinite prison. Something waved near his head, or what was once his head, and yet it was so very far away. "I fear the current containment vessel will not hold him. You have a matter of months to make the necessary preparations, no more, no less... Get it done." One of the external beings, the 'Colonel', made a hasty departure, but the Second lingered, barely perceptible to his senses. He could smell something, an acrid stench of burning plant matter... "Soon, you and I shall have much to discuss, I suspect... Assuming you're still in there, Old Friend."

The Second departed, much as the Colonel had, with a hasty flurry of movement. So he was left to his thoughts once again, far more coherent than they had been in a long time. In the distance, he could hear the Other, though far quieter than before... Then, like a bolt of lightning, she arrived to the forefront. The Newcomer, the feminine voice, calling out over and over again in a strange draconic dialect... 'Eagle...! Eagle...! Where are you...!?' Why was the Newcomer looking for a bird? He'd finally placed the strange language as at least being Draconic, though the exact kind remained unknown... Her voice was dark and husky, bold and confident, intoxicating in its strength... The language sounded so familiar, so very familiar, why couldn't he remember?!

"You can't be serious...?" The words were his own, when had he said them, who was he talking to? "Damn it, don't you see!? They will undermine everything we've worked to build, whether it's now or a thousand years from now!" Why was he so angry, why was he so... Hurt. He couldn't make sense of any of it, even as images flashed through his consciousness, the first things he'd seen in countless centuries... The images were from different times and places, different meetings, with different people... All blending together. "We've all watched them run their own tribes into the ground, yet she wants to put them in charge of the country?!"

"I can't lose her... Not like this." It was his voice again, and certainly not that of the Other, determined and filled with frustration. "They want new magic... I'll show them new magic." There came a shrieking scrape of metal on metal, clattering steel followed by a strange hissing sound. Everything began to vibrate and jostle about, the prison was moving, far faster this time... Upon something that sputtered and roared like a caged beast. The Newcomer suddenly returned, sounding surprised and alarmed... He still couldn't fully understand her, made all the more difficult because her voice was drowning out the Other, cowing his tormentor into submission... In an instant the Newcomer's voice vanished, and with it the voice of the Other... Why? Why was the Other suddenly so silent? Where was he? Was he truly alone now...? So many damn questions! Pain lanced through his non-existent head, an agonizing migraine of a sort he'd not experienced since before the arrival of the Other... What was happening to him?

"You stole everything from me!" That voice, in his memories, not the Newcomer... The same voice that had laughed so cheerfully before, his only solace throughout so many eons of isolation. Was she so angry because of something he'd done, or was it the Other she screamed at? Who was she talking about? Was it him, was he... Dead? He hadn't considered that possibility before, it would explain why he had no corporeal presence, no means of seeing or interacting. Where was the Other, was he waiting longer than usual, to ruin his concentration more profoundly...? To strip away the hope he'd managed to rekindle in that short amount of time? More questions, no answers... Just... Blackness.