Born into devotion , and from a young age indoctrinated by power, Merikh Fremont was decreed to fight, kill and destroy. The King of Hybern saw the Illyrian rebel as a symbol of the battleground, possessing her for her strength and courage.
But Meri...
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If u read the first published version of this chapter, i completely changed it. I felt like reading so much about Merikh's past was boring, so i kept it limited and there is now more about Merikh in Velaris.
Akin to a basin of silver rainbows, the incandescent orb crooned fervently toward Merikh, poised mockingly in Rhysand's outstretched, offering palm, it's radiance an ingenious chastise.
It's truth reverberated with keenness, flickering and scintillating as Merikh's reluctant fingers skimmed the knitted duvet, itching for the orb, goaded by the lone shadow that had begun grovelling around her naked ankle, pirouetting around the soft skin.
As if both could feel one another through the berth of tenebrous space, Azriel and Merikh shuddered, violet and hazel grating together as Azriel willed his insubordinate shadow back to him, the lone soul responding to its stock, renewing it's jovial dance around Azriel's melanoid wings.
Rhysand cleared his throat, coaxing that beaming orb forward, a kaleidoscope of radiance exuding from his palm, "Hold it, think of what it is you want to show us, and the memories will be captured for us to view." He coached graciously, nodding to the lulling orb as Merikh rose on frail, inquisitive knees.
"The memories aren't mine." She admitted after a beat of vacillating silence, sinking her weight onto her heels and looking up to her brother with perturbation, a blanket of guilt obscuring her iris'. Rhysand stared at her with unbiased eyes, inducing her to continue. "When Sorin died, i was left alone, all i could do was savour our memories from his mind, to save myself, to be able to live to fulfil the promise i had made him. As a daemati, i could do that."
Her piquant scent became cloaked by indignity and shame, and Azriel ogled the constellations as they lost their lustre, materialising to flatness against the moon's glorified resolve.
"You stole his memories?" Cassian obtruded incredulously, barrel-chested and formidable in the gall of danger, an authentic illustration of the battlefield. Those crimson-fouled bandages and jagged wings had Merikh internally grimacing with penance, mindful of her blunder.
"I was lost." She justified faintly, looking to Cassian with an open resolve, conscious of his appraisal, "I know it was wrong, but i was so far gone." Her raven hair exuded with a haunting, violet hue as the moonlight cocooned her being, her quiet beauty glorified by it's divinity.
"Ignore him, Merikh." Rhysand advised irately, foreboding, unquiet wings jittering with irascibility as he barraged a demanding look to the rigid general, a brooding, authoritative front, "Things can either take time, or we try dangerous ways to ease the pain." He solaced, a filament of dolefulness wreathing his violet eyes.
Merikh softened her gaze, acknowledging their harrowing similarities, not just in the angst that enduringly eked out the violet in their eyes, but in their stories, their cataclysmic pasts. Much like herself, Rhysand had bared an eternity of demolition, an age of deceit and depletion. Both had been used, ruined and burned by conniving, malevolent rulers, serviceable only for their strengths and unique powers. But the moonlit siblings were unconditionally abiding, with an abundance of love and resolution to propel them through the walls of unintelligible darkness.
