A/N: So. Two years since an update.

Yup, not even gonna try to explain myself on this one.

I'm going to try to update more often. I do have quite a bit of this written out - it's just a matter of getting myself to stop being lazy and actually type it up from my notebook. And revising it, too - most of the chapters I'm typing up nw were written years ago, back in 2011 or 2012 or so. The further along I go, the less revision I'll have to do to my chapters, since I got a LOT better at writing as I went along writing this.

So yeah, enough about that. Thanks for reading, and shoutout to AzemlaandEponine and cerealkiller78 for reviewing!

Chapter 7: Runaway

Since I had to get away from Markovia as fast as possible, I had to pack lightly.

I quickly found a black backpack, and it was a simple feat to sneak in and out of the kitchen to get some food - and amount that would sustain me for perhaps a week. After filling a canteen, I crossed over back to my room to grab all of my euros. As Princess of Markovia, it only made sense that I had a lot of money.

Now these euros just may save my life, I thought to myself as I transferred the cold, small, metallic European currency to my backpack. Countless euros skydived down to the depths of the thick black material, clinking as they landed.

I released my relief into a sigh as I shrugged the backpack over my shoulders. I was done packing.

But I still felt as if there was just something . . . missing.

I unhooked the backpack from my shoulders and peered inside it after quickly unzipping it. I rummaged through it, and found myself relieved to find that I hadn't forgotten anything.

So why did I still feel as if there was something missing?

Maybe I just need some last looks throughout the castle, I suggested to myself. Maybe that's it.

I exited my room, sneaking around carefully. I relished the interior of the palace, knowing this could very well be the last time I was within its walls.

It comforted me to know that it was for the better.

I continued looking around for the next ten or so minutes. I peered inside hollow rooms, quickly shutting it, every second counting. I did this until I stumbled upon a room - one that allowed millions of old memories to swarm around me.

I reached for the polished gold doorknob to Mm's chambers, but as soon as I touched it, I drew back, suddenly hesitant. Should I really go in there? No one had gone in it for a long time. It was left alone for a reason.

But, I reminded myself once again, this could be the last time I'd be able to go in there.

Before I could have any more second thoughts, I swung into the room, quickly closing the door behind me.

It hadn't changed. The carpet was a lush, royal purple that contrasted to the wall's tame pink. A large, mahogany dresser stood to my left, decorated with rectangular drawers below and a proud, small latched box resting on the top. A polished marble vanity with a large oval mirror seemed to have a staring contest with a King-sized bed, above which hung the Markov coat-of-arms.

The room screamed Mom.

I smiled weakly, reluctantly placing one foot in front of the other as I traced the bedspread gently. No one but Lucinda entered this room, yet it looked as fresh as though Mom had just been in here yesterday.

Lucinda does a good job, I thought to myself as I tore my forefinger away from the bedspread and spun on my heel to face the large dresser. Lucinda was another maid in the Markov Castle, one assigned with a special task - to tend to this room specifically. A part of Dad's plan to preserve the Queen of Markovia's spirit, after she died of a horrible case of leukemia.

I began to trace the creases spread throughout the dresser. Dad's plan worked. Indeed, the room fostered Mom's spirit.

Eventually I stumbled upon the small box on top of the dresser. Curious, I flipped the small golden latch and peered inside the box.

All that rested on soft purple velvet were them. The twin butterfly clips.

I cautiously slid them into my palm, setting the box back in its original place. I handled the little butterfly combs as I would a newborn baby.

I just stood there, gazing into the plastic grey clip's contents. Entranced, I skated one of my fingers across the plastic. The top of both clips were rendered into the outline of a butterfly, the bottom evolving into the teeth of a comb.

I remembered those clearly. They were Mom's last birthday gifts. For her thirty-eighth birthday, she had wished for 'something simple.' So in turn, Dad had respected her wishes by giving her these butterfly clips. She had loved them - a lot.

"Can I hold them?" I had begged as a nine year old, the flickering fire in the stone fireplace bathing the scene in vibrant red and orange.

Mom had smiled wearily before removing one of the clips from the blonde hair I inherited. She placed one in my hand. "Here you go."

I had turned the clip over and over, gazing at it in awe.

"It's beautiful," I breathed softly.

"Someday, my little princess," Mom said, "these clips will be yours."

I had looked up before throwing my arms around her in gratitude. In that moment, all was perfect.

Now, nothing was perfect.

I accepted my Mom's death, over time. It was a long time, a harsh road of grief. But I had indeed overcome it. I missed her, and the thought of her smile made my heart ache. But I'd still accepted it.

Yet now that I was back in her room, now that I held the butterfly clips that brought back painful memories, it felt like I was back to stage one of that road. My eyes watered, and the memories tore my heart apart again, opening up a wound that I thought had been sealed long ago -

But at the same time, it brought a calming peace to my mind.

I smiled weakly. Dad had requested that Mom would be buried with both of these clips, since she had loved them so much. But Brion and I had eventually persuaded him that it wouldn't have been what Mom wanted, for those precious things to be buried in the ground, for the rest of the world to never see their beauty again.

I brought one of the butterfly clips and hooked it into my hair.

"Someday, my little princess, these clips will be yours."

I stood up straight. I turned around to see myself in Mom's vanity mirror. I smiled. Somewhere, up above . . . she might be proud of me.

But quickly the other clip stole my attention. I had one of the pieces of Mom's memory in my hair - but what about Brion?

I had to give the other one to him.

I closed the box and flipped the latch down, like I'd never discovered the butterfly clips. Now there was just one more thing for me to do.

I exited the room, grabbing a paper and pen from my room before I walked down to the dimly-lit infirmary. It was nighttime now, at the time I would normally go to bed. The perfect time to run away.

Despite the darkness, I found Brion's bed in the infirmary. I knelt down by the nightstand next to his bed, and once again had to hold back tears as the ink flowed from the tip of the pen and spilled onto the page.

Hand shaking, I clamped my eyes shut once I finished. My breath shivering, I read the note again, making sure it was good enough.

Brion -

You never deserved to get hurt. I'm sorry.

By the time you're reading this, I'll be gone. Don't go after me. I don't want to be found. All I ask is that you keep this butterfly clip, and remember me.

I love you. Please, never forget that.

- Tara

I read it again. Once satisfied, I set the letter back down on the nightstand, and carefully laid the butterfly clip by its side.

That was that.

I knelt by Brion's side, lowering myself to his side. My hand caressed his face - his reddish hair, his strong jaw, his chiseled chin. Then, softly, I placed my lips on his forehead, leaving him my farewell.

"Goodbye," I whispered.

I turned and walked out of the room without looking back.

I hadn't even left the palace yet, and already I missed him.

How could I do this? How could I leave him like that? Brion would be in pieces when he woke up. Was this what Mom had been concerned about as she laid upon her deathbed, leukemia slowly eating away at her - how we'd ever manage to recover?

But Mom had needed to move on, in the end, I reminded myself. And, in my own way, so did I. I needed to learn how to control my powers. It would be for the greater good.

But I was beginning to doubt that.

When I got to my room, I put the backpack back on and made sure the butterfly clip was firmly in place. Then I bounded over to a small window and looked down.

I whistled at the drop. The ground was a long ways away. But I could do it.

I drew in a deep breath. Then I climbed out of my window, and started descending the brick wall.

Fortunately, the castle had been tempered with time. The brick structure wasn't quite as smooth as it used to be. That worked to my advantage, in this case, as it made for slightly better footholds along the wall. I concentrated on lowering one hand under the other, quickly, and tried not to panic whenever the tips of my shoes stumbled upon creases in the castle wall.

Ten seconds. Thirty. After I'd been climbing down for a minute, I allowed myself to look up to see how much progress I'd made . . .

The window to my room was only a speck away.

Victory poured itself over me as I looked down, seeking further confirmation. My heart leapt when I found the ground to be only two meters down.

I released the wall, plummeting the rest of the way down.

I smiled. I . . . I'd done it.

I was actually running away.

And I'd do it. I'd face my powers, come to terms with them, and learn to control them.

I ran up to the castle gates, the wind blowing in my unbound hair as I jumped up the metallic gates and began climbing over them - an easy feat, compared to the height I'd just had to go down.

And while scaling them, I came to a decision.

Princess Tara was gone. She had been a scared, cowering little girl. This girl - she was ready to face the world.

My feet hit the ground.

My name was no longer Princess Tara of Markovia.

It was Terra.

END OF PART I