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They've let him see bits and pieces before. They've given him little moments and glimmers and tastes. They've let him sit in flustered silence with the Princess while she murmured back to him the same exact story he'd heard almost in his own mind so many times.
But the first Run is different.
The first Run doesn't feel like a simulation, despite the fact it's a story he already knows. The first Run doesn't feel like he's training up to be let out into the world to do well with the duplicates he's still learning to create, control and maintain for more than a few heartbeats.
He almost fails. He almost drops completely out of his own story. He almost loses himself to something he doesn't understand.
The Valiant Little Tailor lies. Aaron Kuenning doesn't.
And it rips through him, that first time. Tricking the Giant isn't such a painful thing; it doesn't feel so much like lying as being clever. He doesn't mind being clever. What hurts is coming back to the castle and looking the King in the eye to say, in carefully smooth tones, that he's killed two giants and the mark of his sword can be found above their hearts.
It's a lie. It's entirely a lie.
The lies come so much more easily after that first one. They start to drip off his tongue like he's never had a second thought about letting them burst free. They stick to his bones even as the Princess presses a firm kiss to the corner of his lips and takes a step back, the world dissolving around them back into the familiar comfort of the training room.
If anyone were to look for him, they'd find him hidden carefully away in one of the lesser-frequented dining rooms, a cup of water on the table before him and unseeing eyes pointed toward the space just beyond it.
But the first Run is different.
The first Run doesn't feel like a simulation, despite the fact it's a story he already knows. The first Run doesn't feel like he's training up to be let out into the world to do well with the duplicates he's still learning to create, control and maintain for more than a few heartbeats.
He almost fails. He almost drops completely out of his own story. He almost loses himself to something he doesn't understand.
The Valiant Little Tailor lies. Aaron Kuenning doesn't.
And it rips through him, that first time. Tricking the Giant isn't such a painful thing; it doesn't feel so much like lying as being clever. He doesn't mind being clever. What hurts is coming back to the castle and looking the King in the eye to say, in carefully smooth tones, that he's killed two giants and the mark of his sword can be found above their hearts.
It's a lie. It's entirely a lie.
The lies come so much more easily after that first one. They start to drip off his tongue like he's never had a second thought about letting them burst free. They stick to his bones even as the Princess presses a firm kiss to the corner of his lips and takes a step back, the world dissolving around them back into the familiar comfort of the training room.
If anyone were to look for him, they'd find him hidden carefully away in one of the lesser-frequented dining rooms, a cup of water on the table before him and unseeing eyes pointed toward the space just beyond it.
