Sorry.
It was a word people expected her to say. A lot. 'Apologize, Fen'nan. Don't be disrespectful, Fen'nan.' They told her these things, over and over again as if some day she might magically change. Like she might wake up one day and decide to be a different person. Friggin boom! Magic shite or whatever and done. A whole new person. Stupid idiots. Not her fault she did things they didn't like. Get in line really, she thought, everyone else disapproved of her actions. Maybe she liked it like that. It was good, really, to be hated. People that love, people that enjoy and cherish you, were only at risk of being leverage for her enemies to use. She could not afford them.
She had said sorry just three times in the eighty-six years of her life. And meant it only twice. She hated that word, really, she bloody did. And yet so many expected apologies from her.
William Arnyn. Novellia. Azhreal. Lina. Rudiger. All looked to her once for an apology. She was the bad guy after all. Or maybe she felt deep down that she owed them an apology. Pride. It was an obstacle, she's been told. Not that she gave a piss. But it really was her biggest fucking downfall. But it kept her from being weak herself. Kept her from bending. Giving up. This, the young Altalar knew. Pride would keep her standing when nothing else would.
She lifted her head from the wooden desk, the bedroom dark around her save for the low-burning candle on the desk. She peered up with a heavy-lidded gaze to the stack of papers, pinned against the wooden board on the wall with needles and small knives. Some were short, handwritten notes, others were small experts, torn from the papers of older Imperial Times and newer ones from the Rose Record. Bits of information. Rumors. For most notes, one word was prominent. Peirgarten. Others had the names of enemies, people she'd either already handled. Or planned too. Her blue-green eyes squinted at the papers and names, the candle-light casting haunting shadows on her pretty, tired features, making the dark circles under her eyes all the more vivid.
No. She wasn't fucking sorry.
She slid out of her chair with a slight wince. Her body ached. Everything ached. She crossed the wooden floor to her queen-sized bed pushed against the far off wall, her hands sliding into the fabric of the bedsheets as she slowly crawled into bed, curling unto her side as she slid one hand under pillow, she looked to the empty pillow beside her as she reached up with her slender, pale hand and fingered the gold piercing at the tip of her ear, releasing a long sigh, as if torn from the depths of her soul, her heavy lids tugged downwards and she didn't fight the sleep that tugged at her this time around.
~~~
"Oh no. Not now. Please." Fen'nan groaned as she glanced around the elegant flat. Ithanian in looks as she looked around the brightly lit kitchen, which smelled strongly of some succulent meat. She glanced over to the culprit. A tall, lean male figure had his back to her, humming a soothing tune as he piled several slices of ham unto two ornate plates. She eyed the dark-skinned, pointed ears that poked through his dark brown, tousled curls. She sighed and put her face in her hands. This dream. Again.
"Not this again. Really. I'm not in the mood." She muttered wearily.
"But you've always been a sucker for ham. Or was it just meat?" An Ithanian accented voice replied with some wryness to it.
She took her face out of her hands and deadpanned to him. The Sundial Altalar turned to face her. His tanned, broader, handsome features split into a soft grin. He gave her a playful wink as he bent low and set the plate in front of her. Her expression softened, she shook her head, somber even though her lips played at a small smile.
"Because it's not real. Not you. Not the ham." She said quietly.
He paused, his grin faltering a moment before adding,"...This flat is real."
"And destroyed." She lamented dryly. She looked to the plate that had been set in front of her. Two eggs, over easy set in front of her. Slices of ham set in a row that curved up at the tips. A smily face. She gave a snort and a laugh. "You're a git, Az. A friggin moron." He gave a low chuckle, sliding into the seat across from her at the small round table. She looked back to him, at the warm brown eyes that looked to her with a deep understanding, looking into her soul, his white smile, crooked and goofy.
She felt her chest constrict painfully. She swallowed, looking back to the plate. She shook her head at the emptiness that took place in her chest.
"Sadima you need to eat—do you know how many yolks I broke and ruined trying to make your stupidly specific over-easy eggs? FIVE...If you don't eat them I'll cry." He lamented, giving a mock distressed face. She gave a choked laugh, briefly glancing back to him before looking back to the plate.
"Not my fault your cooking sucks ass Azekeil," she managed back in a dry jesting tone, picking up the fork then, the warmness of his voice reverberated through her, the weight of her stresses lifting, despite the lingering emotion she swallowed back. The reality of the situation haunting her. She stabbed a fork into the yolk.
"Your lock-picking talents must've rubbed off on my good cooking then and spoiled them." He retorted as his fork dug into his scrambled eggs, shoveling them into his mouth.
The redhead scowled before she eyed the egg on the plate, her lips quirked into a typical, smug, feline smirk as she held up her fork, which stuck through an over-easy egg yolk—hard and dry compared to the golden liquid that should've spilled from it upon her breaking the yolk. Overcooked. She eyed him with nothing short of smug amusement, "Clearly. This yolk is as hard as yer head." She remarked, rising to the challenge of insults he'd invoked.
"Ah, there's the smart-tongue Regalia despises," Azekeil said airily with his crooked grin before he shoveled some more bits of scrambled eggs in his mouth—and was then promptly smacked in the face with her over-easy egg as she flicked her fork in his direction, slingshotting the egg directly into his nose. He gave a slow blink as the egg slid off his face and landed on his plate. He looked slowly from his plate to the smugly smirking Fen'nan, she recognized the devilish glint in his eyes. She dropped her fork, mischief in her gaze.
"Ooooooh now your dead," he breathed, before he abruptly stood the same time she did, both chairs scraping loudly against tile before she spun on her heels and darted out of the kitchen, cackling with impish delight, Azekeil hot on her trail as she raced down a brightly lit hallway, long, fiery crimson waves flying behind her, his low laughs echoing behind her, getting closer and closer, she flung open the door at the end of the hallway running inside the bedroom and finding a dead-end, before she felt arms wrap around her lithe waist, she let out an impish squeal and a laugh as she was tackled, landing face-first unto the bed, her face buried into the inviting pillows, as Azekeil landed on her, though not with his full weight, careful not to hurt the smaller Altalar still, he rolled off her unto his side, chuckling.
She gave a rare, breathy laugh as she looked at him, smiling a rare, broad and warm smile as she looked to him, folding her arms underneath her head, wild red waves spread out around her, cutting a bright, striking contrast against the white blankets. As she looked to him, he found him staring at her, smiling. She gave another slight giggle.
"Ahehmm, what?" She asked curiously, arching a brow at him, smiling still.
He propped his head up with his elbow on the pillow, his other, callused hand reached out, tucking some hair behind her pointed ears in a caressing, loving manner. "There's that smile." He murmured quietly, staring at her. His gaze flicked to her ear, his lips quirking some more but In bemusement, as he reached out and touched the gold stud piercing at the tip of her ear, "And my stolen earring." He added warmly with some dryness, but she could see the young pride on his features that shone through anyway. She felt something hard and painful tug at her chest, her smile slowly faded as she stared at him, she swallowed hard, the old scar across her throat bobbing with the movement.
He leaned forward, hand cupping her cheek as he gently pressed his lips to hers, her eyelids closed, returning it with an aching longing forming in her, she felt the air choke her, swallowing back the swelling emotion. He pulled away after their long, shared kiss, staring down at her with those painfully understanding brown eyes, his calloused hand trailing gently from her cheek to her ear, tucking a few loose strands behind her ear again and repeating this motion, she stared up at him, a gaping pit settling into her stomach. It ate at her again. Like it always did.
"You need to let me go." He said quietly, his somber brown eyes piercing her. Reality hit hard, as much as she'd tried to ignore it. Because he was dead. Dead and gone.
She made a choking noise, the words sending a whole new wavelength of pain striking through her, her eyes watered, she shook her head as he went on. "Don't." She said icily, refusing.
"It was forty years ago. Forty years, Sadima. Forty years you've been angry, forty years you've been in pain. Guilt. It's okay to move on, it's okay to live—shhhh, shhh, stop, listen to me." He murmured softly as she squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head as if she could block him out, tears leaking form her eyes. She couldn't breathe. Hurt. Pain. She didn't want it. Didn't wanna know or listen. Block his words out. Block out the truth. She let out a strangled sob. It was so much easier. So much easier to ignore and bury it.
"I can't," she choked, shaking her head through her tears, and it was all she could choke out, pain slamming into her, eating at her heart, her soul, an emptiness within her that wanted to take her to faraway places, "I can't I can't I can't—" she repeated.
"Yes you can, you can," he insisted softly through her sobs. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled him to her, allowing the pale redhead to bury her face in his chest as she sobbed, his head resting upon hers as he rubbed her back.
"Oh...my Fen'nan, what have they done to you?" He murmured, she gave a pained gasp, her hand gripping her stomach, as the sobs wracked her harder, but it was not physical pain, no. Just her insides. Just being ripped apart. Emotion kept buried behind an angry demeanor broken through, emotions that the young Altalar ignored and pretended did not exist.
"It hurts," she squeaked out, her body thrashed some in her sobs as if pain. "It hurts, it hurts and I can't, I can't...please..." she cried into his chest, "Please make it stop," she insides clawed at her, tearing into her like knives. She wanted out. Out of her skin, herself. Out of her mind and a broken heart. He held her tightly in her pained thrashing, keeping her with him, keeping her grounded. She wanted to scream. To yell. She was lost, angry, sad and pained. He bent his head low and kissed her forehead, his hand entwined in her red locks at the back of her head, his other hand rubbing the small of her back, the two curled tightly together.
"I want you to live. I want you to care. I want you to live for more than revenge. Stop living in the past. Stop living for me. I want you to live for you," he spoke softly in her sobs, and she heard, she did, even through the rushing sound of pain, she heard him even though she did not want to. "And I know you care," he said, wrecking another strangled noise to come from the scarred girl, "I know you do. You've always been so bad at it. Pretending not to. That you don't care about your friends. About their feelings. I know it's easier to have people hate you for you. But your not evil. And your not a monster. You've always had that big heart that I, yes, my Fen'nan, fell in love with."
She gripped the tunic of his shirt tightly as her chest constricted painfully, she let out a pained gasp. He continued on.
"And I know you love me, I do. I know you're scared." He shook his head, he let out a low, laugh as her sobs slowed through exhaustion. "Oh, Sadima. You've always been so bad at seeing things. Other people's feelings. So oblivious. Your good at running from it. You are. But it's time now. It's been time. Time to let me go."
She swallowed, in taking a shaky breath against his chest as he rubbed her back. She didn't answer him. She couldn't. The words, the allowance, and acceptance of it—they would not come. They went silent for a long moment, the only sound her shuddering breaths, her eyes closed. After a moment she spoke.
"...Azekeil?" She whispered, and she felt a phantom hand slide a damp strand of hair behind her ear gently.
"Yes?" He murmured gently, and she savored that rich, warm Ithanian voice.
~~~~
Fen'nan's eyes flicked open in the darkness of her bedroom, her eyelashes wet, her face sticky with tears, curled into a fedal position on her side, she stared at the empty spot in the bed beside her, a lonesome silence hanging in the room. Alone. Cold. She blinked, a tear rolling down her cheek as she stared at the empty pillow.
"I'm sorry." She whispered quietly in the dark, but there was nobody to respond back...and for the third time in her life, she meant it.
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