Blood Ties

Chapter 33

TRIGGER WARNING: If you suffer from depression and/or suicidal or dark thoughts, skip this chapter. I tried not to make it too dark, because I did want to make the point that there is always hope, even in your darkest times. However, I do write rather explicitly about a suicide attempt, so...Viewer Discretion is Advised.

Chapter 33

It was late evening, nearly nighttime, before the guards decided they were too far away from the dock for an escape. By that time, Star shivered sporadically, her arms wrapped around herself to ward off the bitter cold. She eyed Marco, but he seemed unaffected by the below-freezing temperatures. In fact, he seemed unaffected by everything that was going on. There was a hollowness in his eyes, a heavy look on his face that worried her. She called his name a few times throughout the course of the afternoon, but he had ignored her entreaties diligently. She wanted to fix him, even though he refused to let her.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the loud creak of the door finally opening. The guards stood on either side, appearing almost as relieved as her to leave. She stood, wincing at the numbness in her feet and legs, and staggered towards the door. She only stopped when she realized Marco still sat in the corner, his gaze on the floor.

"Come on," she whispered, reaching out a hand invitingly. His eyes slowly fell on her hand, and for a moment, she thought he would not accept it. Then he took it and pulled himself up, releasing her hand after a brief squeeze. She smiled a bit, even though she was disappointed he let go at all, and followed the guards down the hallway.

The guard nearest to Star motioned at a door to the left, saying, "This is your room. We do not have anymore available, but I'm sure you don't mind sharing." A smirk appeared on his hard, pale face, and he turned away, the other guard at his heels.

Star threw open the door, her cheeks burning red, and hurried into the warmth of the diminutive room. It was simple, sporting a bunk bed, a rickety table, a tiny fireplace, and two wooden chairs. She made for the fireplace, dragging a chair in front of it and yanking off her shoes. Collapsing into the chair, she stretched her bare feet towards the fire, sighing in relief as feeling began to return to her toes.

Turning her head slightly, she began, "Marco, you c-", until she realized that he was not behind her anymore. The words died on her lips as she stood, her eyes searching every corner of the room for Marco.

He was gone.

Pressing her trembling lips together in an attempt to still them, she sank to her knees by the fire and buried her face in her hands. Tears stung at the corners of her eyes, but she swallowed them back. He had been avoiding her, if not physically, for the last week. Nothing had changed, and she didn't know why she had expected anything but. Heaving a sigh, she slumped spinelessly against the chair, her eyes dull. Her only hope at this point was that somehow Ignis would retaliate Aqua's attack and win. It was a vain hope, to say the least, but what other choice did she have?

Or perhaps, in the chaos, she could slip away from the queen and hide; or better still, she could fight for Ignis.

She closed her eyes and cradled her head in the chair, her back to the fire, and slipped into a restless slumber.

                

The cold light of the sun streaming through the thin gray clouds was reassuring, somehow. Marco preferred it to the darkness of the cell, and to the warm, dim light of their new room. He stomped along the main deck, ignoring the looks he garnered from the soldiers and crewmen, and stopped in front of one of the guards.

"Where is Princess Layla's cabin?" he questioned softly, trying to disguise the murderous anger that burned inside him.

The guard stared him down warily, obviously wondering what he could want with Layla. Carefully, he replied, "That way there –the one next to the queen's." Suddenly realizing his mistake, he clamped his mouth shut, his eyes wide.