Miraric

29| The Heart's Demands.

Miranda's world was in a turmoil.

She stood there, facing Edric, both of them having mere inches of distance as she tried to believe that the person in front of her was real -- that he wasn't in her dreams anymore, that he was not a figment of her imagination, that she could touch him if she wanted to. She blinked, and blinked again, still hoping this was all true -- that this wasn't her usual daydreaming where she would see Edric in every man that she'd set her eyes on, that when the guards opened the door, and Edric walked in, it wasn't just a random person, that it was him -- her fallen star.

He was here. He was alive. He was looking at her.

She slowly brought her hand forward, her fingers shaking. "Ed—"

"Your Highness," Edric stepped back, inclining his head. "It's an honour to be in front of you and battle."

She let out a shaky breath, instantly putting her hand down as she swallowed, wishing the air would dry out the new formed tears in her eyes. It took her a few seconds to realise that she wasn't in the meadow with him, alone and at peace -- she was at the throne room, where she was just ordered to fight the person she betrayed and she was stupid to think about the meadow, to caress his hair while the sun blew kisses on him as she admired him -- it was so, so stupid.

She nodded, her heart racing rapidly, her mind still not being able to do anything. All it wanted to do was pull him towards her and tell him the truth of her actions from seven years ago. She wanted to take his hands, ask him about the scars he had on his arms, ask him how he survived that night, how he lived all these years, how he did it all on his own.

She wanted to tell him that she stopped living the night she crushed his heart and she hadn't been the same after that. She wanted to tell him that she'd promised to never be happy after that night, that she'd live in agony, that she would curse the gods, until her misery would form into death and relieve her. She wanted to tell him that she was forced to do everything that she did to him and her only wish was to just stay by his side, back at the meadow, under the moon and the stars.

But she would do no such thing.

She cleared her throat, realising even her voice was shaking as she spoke. "We will battle with our swords,"

Before Miranda could even ready herself, the sound of a sword being unsheathed pierced through the heavy atmosphere, making the spectators adjust in their seats and watch with their utmost attention.

Miranda unsheathed her own sword, poising, aiming the sword at his chest and just like that night seven years ago, even now she wouldn't be able to hurt him, not a scratch, not even a graze of her sword against his skin. She would watch him, study his features -- his eyes that had lost their shine, his cheeks that had sunken, his cheekbones that had hardened, his face which had been still the entire time. She would realise that she had lost her star and it was entirely her fault. But between all that, she would thank whatever the gods there were: the Fates, the gods of Hearts, the gods of Elysia, the True gods, the gods ruling the skies -- she would thank all kinds of deities and divinities for Edric's survival.

She would be selfish again, and she would wish for him to survive again.

Edric was ready -- he even started attacking -- sending thrusts as the first thing, his sword so quick, the nobles were having a hard time seeing his sword at all. He continued sending thrusts, not being attacked back for once, his swords reaching Miranda's throat, neck, chest -- but the tip of the sword's edge never touched her.

Miranda could see Edric was getting frustrated at every second, not because he wasn't able to take her down -- but because she wasn't attacking him; she was giving him a chance to win intentionally and that was a direct insult to his hard works and all the hardships he went through to get this far.