(Another sad lore story you say? YES)
"You're a widow."
The echoing statement repeated like a loop in her head as she stumbled in the dark into the large, silent, imperial home, slamming the door shut behind her. She felt like she was walking on air, light and floaty, as if she could do anything. Liquor had seeped well into her blood, and even the room seemed to spin as she struggled her way up the wooden stairs, squinting in the dark. She could smell the rum that reeked off her own breath, which was something in itself and she might've been concerned had she cared. But she didn't. She reached the top of the stairs, passing by her desk as she trudged to the other end of the room and let herself fall face-first into her bed with a grunt.
"You're a widow."
Tiring. How they kept pushing and prodding at the past she wanted nothing more than to leave behind. Fen'nan Solaveira gave a hiccup as she rolled onto her back, the cheap bed creaking underneath the movement as she stared blankly at the ceiling above. They were supposed to hate her, fear her, not attempt to rip her open in some attempt to console her. Most easily hated her enough, but few managed to pierce her heart regardless. They wanted to see her wounded heart and treat it like a wound. But it wasn't so simple.
"You're a widow."
~~~
"This can't be it. This is it?"
Sadima's tone was filled with disbelief, scoffing as she reached the top of the hill and saw nothing but disappointment. The hill descended into a small, open field that stretched outwards, soft rolling hills adorning it's mostly flat landscape. Thick, dark woods framed all sides of the field, illuminated by the moonlight of the full moon that shone down upon them, not a cloud in the sky that was speckled with stars. Her brows furrowed as she beheld the farmhouse at the bottom of the hill, the woodlands disappearing behind the farmhouse. It was simple and small, and there was nothing grand about it whatsoever. Certainly nothing worth robbing. Or anyone worth killing.
"I don't understand..." she questioned, the pale, young Altalar turned her head towards the individual beside her, lost in his own contemplations it seemed. The Suvial looked down at the farmhouse with a look of thought drawn on his equally young, dark-skinned features. After a brief pause of silence, he turned his chocolate-brown eyes down upon her, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly.
"Not to your standards?" he jested lightly, his rich, Ithanian accent rolling smoothly off his tongue, carrying its usual warm playfulness, dark eyes twinkling with mirth despite the situation. It only served to irritate her. Her legs ached from the travel, and her stomach roiled with hungry agony. Rolling her eyes, she twisted back to peer at the simple farmhouse below, no light illuminating from either window. Nobody stirred within it, not at this hour.
"That…that.. liar! He said it was supposed to be an estate, he told me, Az. One last job and all would be forgiven, save for the debt. But this was supposed to be our big, break away. The olive branch he promised," she insisted, lips pressing into a thin line.
"Then he lied," Azekiel released with a sigh, lifting a gloved hand to run his hands through his dark brown curls. "We should not be surprised. Not after everything... but why send us all the way out here?"
She huffed, giving a shake of her head. "We could've used the currency for our move—we could've—"
"Been dead," Azekiel interjected. "We could've been dead. Sadima, we're lucky Venalaris let us go at all." He sighed, turning his whole body to face her.
"... I know that. But we could've kept fighting, too." Her voice had dropped quieter, cheek twitching as a small, young boyish giggle echoed in her mind, nothing but a memory now. There was no forgetting what they'd done. What she had done. As well as the goodbye that had been stolen from her. Anger writhed inside her, running hot and deep. She wasn't sure she'd ever lose that anger.
Azekiel hesitated, his eyes darting over her features, dark brows drawing together as worry lined his face. "No, we couldn't-.," he stopped himself abruptly, giving a short shake of his head.
"What?"
"Nothing. Never mind," he dismissed, releasing a small sigh. But she knew. Knew they couldn't have fought much longer. But she would've been fine going down swinging, as long as they went down together. He was all she had now, and to whatever end, she'd ensure she wouldn't lose it. Not again. Protect him. Better than she did Taryn. Better than she did Carwen'thal.
"Hey. Get your head out of there," he murmured, driving away from her guilt-ridden thoughts that fought to consume her on a daily basis. She opened her mouth to protest and ask again before he pushed her cheeks together, receiving a scowl from the Minoor.
"We're alive, my Fen'nan." He pushed, a familiar enthusiasm to his tone. One he'd been supplying more often towards her these days. There was something about the light in his gaze, the bright, crooked smile, that eased her. "It's more than can be said for a lot of people who cross him. Especially as deeply as we did. So you, Grouchy," he teased, poking her cheek, "can cheer up. Got it? So, we didn't get the big coin. I think we've handled worse, right?" He drawled, jabbing her once more.
Batting his hand away with a laugh, the Minoor relucted, "Fine—fine!" Releasing an exasperated huff, she stepped back, a bright grin forcing its way unto her face. "So what now?"
The Suvial's hands fell to her lithe shoulders, a content sigh slipping from his lips. "We've got all the time to figure it out. All the time," he hummed, gently pulling her in, their lips joining together momentarily for a slow, lazy kiss. As if he believed they had all the time in the world, truly. She did too.
After a moment he pulled back, tucking a crimson lock behind her pointed ear, far from her natural color, but they both knew why. Her lips stretched from ear to ear, smiling up at him like some naive, lovesick idiot. She knew she was too, not that it mattered to her. "I love you." Sadima murmurerd softly, before shaking her head and clicking her tongue. "Even when you're an absolute idiot."
He gave a bark of a laugh. "Can't you ever say anything nice without an insult?"
"No." The corner of her lips twitched upwards, before she paused. "Why Fen'nan? Fen'nan. Why that name?"
The Suvial's lips faintly lifted, pressing his palm to her cheek. "It's not the name he gave you. Not who you were before him, either. You've evolved from what you were. From the street urchin, to his weapon, to being your own. You should have a new name to reflect that."
The young Minoor tilted her head, leaning into his palm with a small smile. "So what's your new one then?"
Azekeil grinned, in a boy-like, mischievous way, stepping closer to her. "Let me think on it. I'll tell you tomorrow. And the day after that, and the day after that, and the-"
"Shut up," she laughed, stupid grin widening, giving his shoulder a light shove. His hand snatched her arm, pulling her into him, spinning her around in a firm embrace, which only sent her into a further bout of giggles. "Azekeil!"
He set her down on her feet, swapping places with her. A smile lit his youthful features, toying with her waves. "Fen'nan," he replied, much gently.
She often wondered if he somehow saw it coming. If that's why he moved her. Smiling at her in that clueless, boyish manner. She resisted the urge to mess up his already tussled, dark curls. It was his last word.
Before an arrow pierced his throat.
A spurt of warmth, blood spraying on her face. His blood. A scream ripped through her, catching his heavy, falling form as she pulled him tightly to her chest and averted her body to the side, falling into the ground, and rolling down the hill, as more arrows whistled from the trees all around them, soaring overhead.
The couple hit the bottom of the hill, rolling to a stop, Sadima threw herself over him, both out of desperation and as a shield. The arrow was in his neck. His throat. No way to save it. No way to save him. She gripped his face and shook her head, a heart-wretched sob breaking through her.
"No, no, please, please," Her plea spilled from her lips, coaxing the side his face with her thumb. Azekeil's mouth opened and closed, attempting to rasp out his words, but only a gurgle emitted from him. "No, no, NO! You don't get to, you don't get to do this, you do not get to leave me! Get up!" she roared through her sobs, shaking him by the shoulders, helplessly watching the light fade from his warm, deep brown eyes, his body went lax.
A shuddering gasp shook her form. "Get up. Please," she wailed, tears streaming down her face as she moved both hands to cup the sides of his face. But he was gone. Death had been her friend for many years, but now came unwanted. The Minoor's head dropped, body wracking with sobs before something sharp pierced her side, gripping him harder as she cried out. An arrow. Another slammed into her waist, just beside the last, tearing her hands from her partner and knocking her off Azekeil and beside him unto the grass. The agony in her side was numb in comparison to the pain inside that tore her in two.
Sadima turned her head. Lifeless eyes stared emptily back. It was empty and sad. Sad, for the future that had been so quickly stolen. Sad for the memories gone. Sad for the ending. There wouldn't be a tomorrow. There wouldn't be anything thing left at all.
A hand reached out, trembling as she grasped his own. For a moment she thought she felt the smallest squeeze. Maybe she only wished it.
Distantly there was the sound of footfalls plowing through the grass. They stepped around her. Arms of masked assailants reached under Azekeil's arms, dragging him back. His hand slipped from hers, barely registering the voice of dismay that slipped from her. Or the muffled voices around her. Someone crouched above her, features horrifically obscure with the porcelain mask adorning their features. Felt herself lifted up as her vision blurred with both tears and the darkness at the edge of her vision.
Then it went black and she was no more.
~~
Fen'nan Solaveira stared up at the ceiling in her drunk daze, blinking away the memory. Questions plagued her, as they always were prone to. She wondered if he was sad, wherever he was. Wondered if he missed the sun, or if he knew he had been hers, and she'd been cold since. If he missed the slow kisses, or wished they were faster. Did he regret them, her? Did he blame her? Would he be disappointed in who she was now?
Did he love her, when it was her fault?
Swallowing, she rolled unto her side, drawing her knees into her stomach, curling into a fedal position as she wrapped her arms around her knees. It felt safe, as if she could protect herself. Protect herself from the pain, force it away in this position. But she couldn't. Closing her eyes, her rum reeking form so small and insignificant in the giant bedroom. She wondered if he was sad he missed the chance to marry her at all. She was no widow, no. Only been broken in places she could not ever repair.
The Minoor drifted away with the final question lingering in mind. Wondering if she'd ever find the answers she needed.
"You're a widow."
The echoing statement repeated like a loop in her head as she stumbled in the dark into the large, silent, imperial home, slamming the door shut behind her. She felt like she was walking on air, light and floaty, as if she could do anything. Liquor had seeped well into her blood, and even the room seemed to spin as she struggled her way up the wooden stairs, squinting in the dark. She could smell the rum that reeked off her own breath, which was something in itself and she might've been concerned had she cared. But she didn't. She reached the top of the stairs, passing by her desk as she trudged to the other end of the room and let herself fall face-first into her bed with a grunt.
"You're a widow."
Tiring. How they kept pushing and prodding at the past she wanted nothing more than to leave behind. Fen'nan Solaveira gave a hiccup as she rolled onto her back, the cheap bed creaking underneath the movement as she stared blankly at the ceiling above. They were supposed to hate her, fear her, not attempt to rip her open in some attempt to console her. Most easily hated her enough, but few managed to pierce her heart regardless. They wanted to see her wounded heart and treat it like a wound. But it wasn't so simple.
"You're a widow."
~~~
"This can't be it. This is it?"
Sadima's tone was filled with disbelief, scoffing as she reached the top of the hill and saw nothing but disappointment. The hill descended into a small, open field that stretched outwards, soft rolling hills adorning it's mostly flat landscape. Thick, dark woods framed all sides of the field, illuminated by the moonlight of the full moon that shone down upon them, not a cloud in the sky that was speckled with stars. Her brows furrowed as she beheld the farmhouse at the bottom of the hill, the woodlands disappearing behind the farmhouse. It was simple and small, and there was nothing grand about it whatsoever. Certainly nothing worth robbing. Or anyone worth killing.
"I don't understand..." she questioned, the pale, young Altalar turned her head towards the individual beside her, lost in his own contemplations it seemed. The Suvial looked down at the farmhouse with a look of thought drawn on his equally young, dark-skinned features. After a brief pause of silence, he turned his chocolate-brown eyes down upon her, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly.
"Not to your standards?" he jested lightly, his rich, Ithanian accent rolling smoothly off his tongue, carrying its usual warm playfulness, dark eyes twinkling with mirth despite the situation. It only served to irritate her. Her legs ached from the travel, and her stomach roiled with hungry agony. Rolling her eyes, she twisted back to peer at the simple farmhouse below, no light illuminating from either window. Nobody stirred within it, not at this hour.
"That…that.. liar! He said it was supposed to be an estate, he told me, Az. One last job and all would be forgiven, save for the debt. But this was supposed to be our big, break away. The olive branch he promised," she insisted, lips pressing into a thin line.
"Then he lied," Azekiel released with a sigh, lifting a gloved hand to run his hands through his dark brown curls. "We should not be surprised. Not after everything... but why send us all the way out here?"
She huffed, giving a shake of her head. "We could've used the currency for our move—we could've—"
"Been dead," Azekiel interjected. "We could've been dead. Sadima, we're lucky Venalaris let us go at all." He sighed, turning his whole body to face her.
"... I know that. But we could've kept fighting, too." Her voice had dropped quieter, cheek twitching as a small, young boyish giggle echoed in her mind, nothing but a memory now. There was no forgetting what they'd done. What she had done. As well as the goodbye that had been stolen from her. Anger writhed inside her, running hot and deep. She wasn't sure she'd ever lose that anger.
Azekiel hesitated, his eyes darting over her features, dark brows drawing together as worry lined his face. "No, we couldn't-.," he stopped himself abruptly, giving a short shake of his head.
"What?"
"Nothing. Never mind," he dismissed, releasing a small sigh. But she knew. Knew they couldn't have fought much longer. But she would've been fine going down swinging, as long as they went down together. He was all she had now, and to whatever end, she'd ensure she wouldn't lose it. Not again. Protect him. Better than she did Taryn. Better than she did Carwen'thal.
"Hey. Get your head out of there," he murmured, driving away from her guilt-ridden thoughts that fought to consume her on a daily basis. She opened her mouth to protest and ask again before he pushed her cheeks together, receiving a scowl from the Minoor.
"We're alive, my Fen'nan." He pushed, a familiar enthusiasm to his tone. One he'd been supplying more often towards her these days. There was something about the light in his gaze, the bright, crooked smile, that eased her. "It's more than can be said for a lot of people who cross him. Especially as deeply as we did. So you, Grouchy," he teased, poking her cheek, "can cheer up. Got it? So, we didn't get the big coin. I think we've handled worse, right?" He drawled, jabbing her once more.
Batting his hand away with a laugh, the Minoor relucted, "Fine—fine!" Releasing an exasperated huff, she stepped back, a bright grin forcing its way unto her face. "So what now?"
The Suvial's hands fell to her lithe shoulders, a content sigh slipping from his lips. "We've got all the time to figure it out. All the time," he hummed, gently pulling her in, their lips joining together momentarily for a slow, lazy kiss. As if he believed they had all the time in the world, truly. She did too.
After a moment he pulled back, tucking a crimson lock behind her pointed ear, far from her natural color, but they both knew why. Her lips stretched from ear to ear, smiling up at him like some naive, lovesick idiot. She knew she was too, not that it mattered to her. "I love you." Sadima murmurerd softly, before shaking her head and clicking her tongue. "Even when you're an absolute idiot."
He gave a bark of a laugh. "Can't you ever say anything nice without an insult?"
"No." The corner of her lips twitched upwards, before she paused. "Why Fen'nan? Fen'nan. Why that name?"
The Suvial's lips faintly lifted, pressing his palm to her cheek. "It's not the name he gave you. Not who you were before him, either. You've evolved from what you were. From the street urchin, to his weapon, to being your own. You should have a new name to reflect that."
The young Minoor tilted her head, leaning into his palm with a small smile. "So what's your new one then?"
Azekeil grinned, in a boy-like, mischievous way, stepping closer to her. "Let me think on it. I'll tell you tomorrow. And the day after that, and the day after that, and the-"
"Shut up," she laughed, stupid grin widening, giving his shoulder a light shove. His hand snatched her arm, pulling her into him, spinning her around in a firm embrace, which only sent her into a further bout of giggles. "Azekeil!"
He set her down on her feet, swapping places with her. A smile lit his youthful features, toying with her waves. "Fen'nan," he replied, much gently.
She often wondered if he somehow saw it coming. If that's why he moved her. Smiling at her in that clueless, boyish manner. She resisted the urge to mess up his already tussled, dark curls. It was his last word.
Before an arrow pierced his throat.
A spurt of warmth, blood spraying on her face. His blood. A scream ripped through her, catching his heavy, falling form as she pulled him tightly to her chest and averted her body to the side, falling into the ground, and rolling down the hill, as more arrows whistled from the trees all around them, soaring overhead.
The couple hit the bottom of the hill, rolling to a stop, Sadima threw herself over him, both out of desperation and as a shield. The arrow was in his neck. His throat. No way to save it. No way to save him. She gripped his face and shook her head, a heart-wretched sob breaking through her.
"No, no, please, please," Her plea spilled from her lips, coaxing the side his face with her thumb. Azekeil's mouth opened and closed, attempting to rasp out his words, but only a gurgle emitted from him. "No, no, NO! You don't get to, you don't get to do this, you do not get to leave me! Get up!" she roared through her sobs, shaking him by the shoulders, helplessly watching the light fade from his warm, deep brown eyes, his body went lax.
A shuddering gasp shook her form. "Get up. Please," she wailed, tears streaming down her face as she moved both hands to cup the sides of his face. But he was gone. Death had been her friend for many years, but now came unwanted. The Minoor's head dropped, body wracking with sobs before something sharp pierced her side, gripping him harder as she cried out. An arrow. Another slammed into her waist, just beside the last, tearing her hands from her partner and knocking her off Azekeil and beside him unto the grass. The agony in her side was numb in comparison to the pain inside that tore her in two.
Sadima turned her head. Lifeless eyes stared emptily back. It was empty and sad. Sad, for the future that had been so quickly stolen. Sad for the memories gone. Sad for the ending. There wouldn't be a tomorrow. There wouldn't be anything thing left at all.
A hand reached out, trembling as she grasped his own. For a moment she thought she felt the smallest squeeze. Maybe she only wished it.
Distantly there was the sound of footfalls plowing through the grass. They stepped around her. Arms of masked assailants reached under Azekeil's arms, dragging him back. His hand slipped from hers, barely registering the voice of dismay that slipped from her. Or the muffled voices around her. Someone crouched above her, features horrifically obscure with the porcelain mask adorning their features. Felt herself lifted up as her vision blurred with both tears and the darkness at the edge of her vision.
Then it went black and she was no more.
~~
Fen'nan Solaveira stared up at the ceiling in her drunk daze, blinking away the memory. Questions plagued her, as they always were prone to. She wondered if he was sad, wherever he was. Wondered if he missed the sun, or if he knew he had been hers, and she'd been cold since. If he missed the slow kisses, or wished they were faster. Did he regret them, her? Did he blame her? Would he be disappointed in who she was now?
Did he love her, when it was her fault?
Swallowing, she rolled unto her side, drawing her knees into her stomach, curling into a fedal position as she wrapped her arms around her knees. It felt safe, as if she could protect herself. Protect herself from the pain, force it away in this position. But she couldn't. Closing her eyes, her rum reeking form so small and insignificant in the giant bedroom. She wondered if he was sad he missed the chance to marry her at all. She was no widow, no. Only been broken in places she could not ever repair.
The Minoor drifted away with the final question lingering in mind. Wondering if she'd ever find the answers she needed.
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