Nobody knows the thing you won't say (pt. 2- Mazarin's perspective)

I think something in my head is broken. Earlier today, before I was in this cold interrogation room, an angry rebel Commander punched me hard. Now I'm worried it was hard enough to break the one thing that kept me alive.

As an orphan in a merciless, war-torn nation, I only survived because my instincts are always spot on. Never once has my intuition failed to warn me about accidents, the future, suspicious people. Somehow I've always known who to kill and who to use.

Nobody understands it, not the King nor his physician. In battles, people call me unkillable because every strike coming is one I've already sensed.

Even without magic instincts, one would assume meeting my most formidable enemy would make me feel worried. Or murderous, unnerved, mildly uncomfortable. Especially while chained to a table, bone-weary from fighting and gasping for the drugs the military hands out.

But all I feel right now is my gut telling me I should trust the General. It's eerie, which makes me worry about brain damage from Commander Layla's punch.

No time to dwell on that now. I see the door swing open and force myself to look alive.

The General enters, his face transforming from pained to furious and horrified.

"You?" He growled, his hand reaching for his sword.

"Surprise." I waved at him, deeply confused. I got myself captured to meet this man because of a stupid feeling I'd had.

So why doesn't he know me at all? My gut still insisted I was safe.

Just when it looked like the General might actually execute me, the false Prince and his sidekick jumped out in front of him, shouting some nonsense.

God, I wanted to strangle that boy. It was etched into me to kill him, win the war for my King. I frowned: were they actually trying to save me? Well, that's new.

Something apparently convinced the General to spare me, and he just stared, breathing like a bull on a rampage.

I stared back challengingly, tilting my head. Like I'd let this guy intimidate me.

The General huffed in surprise, his eyes moving to my torn sleeve, to the dark spiral on my forearm. First Commander Layla and now him, was everyone on this side of the war obsessed with birthmarks?

"Out. I said, get out." The General barked at the two idiots, interrupting their whining.

I watched him return his blade to its sheath, studying his every move.

General Hamid was ruthless, a known murderer. My team and I spent hours devising counter-attacks, kidnap schemes, assassinations, all related to defeating him. We'd never actually fought, always on different battlefields.

It was jarring meeting him in the flesh, especially without my mask.

"Do you know who I am?" The General asked, and I was shocked by how tired and weary he sounded.

What gave him the right to be tired? Had he also been punched and captured today?

But I played along, sucking at my lip to try and soothe the sting. "I make it a point to know my enemies, General Hamid."

Should I just shout at him? Ask if he knew me, how he knew me.

The General sighed, "And who are you?"

Oh, that hurt. So there was nothing? No connection? I adopted my famed stone-cold look. "How rude. Shouldn't you know the right hand of your enemy? No wonder we're winning the war." God, I want the pills.

The General was still glaring murderously. This was the dumbest shit I'd ever gotten myself into. He didn't know me, so I became a traitor for nothing. 

"Do you know the name, Mazarin?" The General asked suddenly like he was testing something out. 

I almost felt dizzy. Yes, he knew me.

But ten years ago, my trainers had asked me the same question. And they hit me every time I answered yes to the name Mazarin. 

So I tested him, leaning into my chair casually. "Oh, God. Don't tell me, a daughter? Wife? Girlfriend?"

"What?" He didn't seem angry, just frozen.

Give me something, you dipshit. "Mazarin. She seems important to you." I smiled slightly, "If I killed her, I'm sorry." Just say what it means! I shouted internally, torn between telling him and lying.

Fine. I'd provoke him into saying it. "Sorry that I can't tell Mazarin apart from anyone else I killed."

That got his attention, and the General slammed a hand into the table. "Shut up."

We waited then, both of us immensely disappointed and furious. Why wouldn't he just say it? Who was I to him?

The second that cold, dead-eyed shadow fell over the General's face, I knew. "What's your name?" He asked, and I copied that look to memory.

We're related. Hamid has to be my uncle, or grandfather, or father.

Somehow, I hate that he exists. For over a decade, nobody has given a shit about broken bones, missions going wrong, or me becoming someone I hated.

And if we're related, I've always been a traitor to one side or another. "So, what's the plan?" I asked, looking away. "Execution? Torture? Preferably torture other than hearing the sound of your voice."

"You'll be tried in our court, sentenced, and...we'll see about your future. I can...protect you." The General's voice trailed off there. "You just need to trust me."

I don't believe him. But my gut does.

"Trust you? You're gonna torture me for information, probably lock me up forever. Where were you before?" For a moment, I thought I gave too much away, but he just got up.

Then he turned, and I stopped the other insults short, waiting.

The General didn't meet my eyes, his voice a low rumble. "Your name. Your real one is Mazarin. If you can, try and remember Sienna and a small village near Galen Creek."

And after dropping that Pandora's box of more questions, he left. I winced when the door slammed behind him, alone with my restless mind. 

For example, how am I supposed to win his trust? Who the hell am I?

I remembered the King's delighted smile when I told him I'd catch his enemies. Remembered learning to blank out on the battlefield. I remember blood and spilled wine, laughter, drugs, pain, and Mazarin.

But I don't know Sienna, or Galen Creek. or the General. And my heart told me I was supposed to remember.