Snippets of Writing

8.

"We can create something new," he promised her. "Together. Haven't you always wanted peace, Firewielder? Peace between your people and my people? Don't you want all of this to end?"

She hesitated, leaning her head against his shoulder. "I am a creature of war," she said finally. "Not peace."

"Join me," Makaar insisted. "Join me, arennme. You are the Steel Talon, and I am the King... we can make things change. It doesn't always have to be like this."

Firewielder paused. "I know. But I am under orders. And then there's the... prophecy."

"The prophecy is meaningless," Makaar insisted. "Most of them are. It's possible that you're not even the right person for it. Please, Firewielder. Please."

She took a deep breath. "I don't see any flaws in your arguments," she admitted. "I do agree that we can make peace. A treaty of sorts, if we work together. I... I don't know how much the King will like that."

"It is peace," Makaar said. "And you have me on your side. Relavur is desperate for change, arennme. Nobody wants war."

"Your court would say otherwise," Firewielder pointed out.

Makaar shrugged. "There is a small band of warmongers," he admitted. "But aside from that - we all want peace, Firewielder. Won't you join me? We can draft a treaty, forge a peace... you can be my queen." He looked up, looking out through the clear windows of ice out into the white distance like he could see a vision of the future.

She let out a long breath. "Yes," she said. "I would like that."

Makaar's fingers brushed across her shoulders, leaving tiny geometric ice crystals on the black fabric that quickly melted. "I've wanted peace for so long," he murmured, pulling her closer to him. "It's hard to believe that someone finally agreed to it."

"Peace is hard to come by," Firewielder agreed. "And more often than not, it is won by more blood than it saves." She rested her hands on his shoulders, looking up at his pale eyes. Almost white as the ice that his palace was made of.

Makaar leaned down to kiss her, his lips cool against hers. Firewielder tangled a hand through his ice blond hair before letting the other drop down to his lower chest.

Makaar gasped, stumbling back, cold hands slipping away from Firewielder's waist. He caught himself on her shoulder, a hand pressed to his stomach. "No," he gasped. "No. No."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, holding him against her. She still held the hilt of the knife driven into his stomach. "I'm sorry. It... it had to be done." She couldn't stop the tear from rolling down her cheek.

Makaar swayed, more and more of his weight transferring to her. "Firewielder," he mumbled, tracing a weak finger over her cheek. "Was it all a lie, then? Was it all an act?" His words came through a haze even as his eyes snapped open, pupils dilating through the pain.

Firewielder's heart wrenched as she forced the lie out. "Yes," she said. "I never loved you, Makaar Kh'vabv." Then she forced the knife up through his chest, stepping back to let him collapse in a quickly growing pool of purplish blood.

from 'wielder of frost and flame'