[url=https://www.bungie.net/en/Forum/Post/246624086/0/0]Table of Contents[/url] [i]Alexander would never forget the day he met Queen Natalia. There were few days in his life worth remembering, but he would hold onto that memory until he died. It was the day his life changed forever. So far, it seemed to have changed for the better. But he was always skeptical, expecting everything to come burning down. Life had a nasty habit of lifting a person up just to beat them back down. He was a young man when he first saw her. He still was. Only a few years had passed since Natalia‘s rise to power. There were gunshots in the streets of Fairmont that day. Alexander had immediately known someone was trying to dethrone the Warlord. Some wannabe-Warlord trying to take the power for themselves. Everyone in Fairmont was used to it. It was routine for them. He locked the door to his bedroom and sat down on his bed. His father was downstairs. It wasn’t long before the old man started stomping around, yelling as he searched for his gun. Alexander hoped he would run out into the street and get shot. As the gunfire came closer and grew louder, so did the shouting of his father. Alexander hadn’t cared enough to look out the window. He just massaged the bruise on his forehead in silence. All the noise made it hard for him to hear his own thoughts. Then the gunshots were right under him, in front of the house. The wooden walls barely muffled the sound, making it seem like he was standing right next to them. He flinched as every discharge impacted his eardrums. Downstairs, his father bellowed, “GET AWAY FROM MY HOUSE!” There was more gunfire, and a couple of odd noises like someone knocking on wood. Probably the rebels leaning on the wall for cover. Alexander’s interest was piqued, and he stood to shuffle to the window. But the ruckus died down as he reached for the shutters. He pushed open the covers and carefully leaned over the windowsill, ignoring the cold gust of wind that bit at his skin. Two men were in the street, holding guns and looking down the road towards Fairmont’s fortress. When Alexander looked, he saw two dead bodies at the end of the street. Heavy footsteps resounded under him, and he listened as they moved through the house and to the stairs. As they ascended, Alexander put his back to the wall and gritted his teeth. His father picked the worst times to vent. Alexander hoped the old man didn’t have the gun. That way he’d at least be able to get a couple licks in. But he didn’t have any notion of coming out on top. His father was a strong man. The footsteps came to his door and stopped. Someone tapped lightly on the door. Alexander blinked in confusion. It wasn’t like his father to knock so politely. “Hello?” A voice called. It was a woman. After a moment, she spoke again, “Is anyone there?” Alexander realized he was still standing against the wall. He peeled himself off of it and took a step towards the door. “Hello?” The woman asked again. Alexander moved uneasily to the door. Where was his father? He slid the lock open with a sharp tug. “Oh,” the voice intoned, having heard the noise. Encouraged by the tender sound, Alexander gripped the doorknob and twisted it, pulling the door open. A woman stood in front of him. She wore the average, threadbare clothes of regular townsfolk under a layer of sparse and equally shoddy armor pads. Her face was as white as the snow covering the ground outside, framed by long hair as black as the night sky. Her blue eyes stared into his, sparkling with life. A kind smile spread slowly across her face. She was beautiful. Alexander gawked at her for a few long seconds, memorizing every detail he could. He knew better than to believe in angels, but he’d heard legends about them. Beings from the Jovian moons and beyond, with grace and beauty beyond measure, that would release you from the bonds and suffering of the world. If ever he’d seen one, it was her. “Hi,” the woman greeted sweetly, “My name’s Natalia.” “Uh-“ Alexander collected his wits and returned, “Alexander.” “Nice to meet you,” Natalia said. That was when Alexander noticed the man next to her. He was an average-looking man, with no remarkable features other than the makings of a beard growing on his chin, and wore an outfit similar to Natalia’s. The man was clearly nervous, but neither seemed very threatening. They made no move to enter the room. “Who all lives here?” Natalia inquired. Alexander’s gaze slid back to her as he answered, “My father an’ me.” The man shifted uncomfortably and scratched at his beard, glancing over his shoulder, and Natalia’s smile faded. “I’m sorry,” she apologized delicately, “He…got shot through the wall.” Alexander’s mind froze, processing. His father, dead? After all these years. He didn’t know what to think. What to feel. A mix of emotions started to churn within him. His eyes started to sting, and he blinked hard as tears began to form. “Nat…” the man muttered, trying to put himself between her and Alexander, “We should go.” Natalia gave him one last look before she let herself be herded away. Alexander managed to pull himself out of his stupor and reached out to them, “Wait.” They stopped and turned back to him. “I-“ He licked his lips and averted his eyes, searching for words, “Um…thank you.” Natalia blinked in surprise, and the man squinted suspiciously. Alexander didn’t say anything more. The man urged Natalia on, and they went down the stairs. Alexander followed them at a distance, earning more wary looks from the man. As he descended, he looked over the railing and faltered as he saw his father. The old man was lying on his back, with his gun resting next to his limp hand. He’d been shot twice in the chest. Each wound was marked by holes and red stains in his shirt. Sunlight filtered faintly through a dozen similar holes in the wall, where the bullets had punched through the wood. Alexander shambled across the room to his father’s side. There he stood, not knowing what to do. He absorbed the sight of his only family, dead and bleeding at his feet. Words and memories floated to the surface of his mind. Idiot, useless, beatings, brat, worthless, rat, bruises, good for nothing... Alexander’s fingers curled into fists and his foot snapped out. He relished the satisfying feeling of his boot smashing into the abusive man’s carcass, but only for a moment. He turned to Natalia and the man, who had stopped in the doorway to watch. Natalia had liberated him. Saved him from his oppressor. Released him from his bonds and suffering. She wasn’t an angel, but she nearly was. “C’mon, Nat,” the man hissed, pulling her out through the door. Alexander stumbled away from his father and into the doorframe, then carefully stepped out after them. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he came face-to-face with a stout man, standing like a statue next to the door. “Oliver,” Natalia cooed. The stout man’s eyes were glued to the wall of Alexander’s house, and he spoke wistfully as he placed a hand over one of the bullet holes, “It almost hit me.” He turned to Natalia, not even noticing Alexander, and repeated himself with a strange smile, “It almost hit me.” Natalia grabbed the stout man’s hand, pulling him along, “Maybe next time, Oliver.” They walked away, towards Fairmont’s fortress, their boots crunching in the snow. Alexander stayed where he was, thinking. He looked back inside his home, to his father and the gun lying beside him, and made a decision. “Wait!” He yelled to Natalia, “Take me with you!”[/i]