Alternate Realities

The Cost of a Revelation (Prompt)

Prompt submitted by an anonymous ask on Tumblr:

she stares into my fiery eyes as i stare into the storm in hers. she pushes herself deeper into my chest where i can feel her breathing, her tears. where i can feel HER. "he's gone," her voice shaky as ever, "i think i'll miss him." she says as she pulls herself away from me and turns toward the window. "good bye cal." she says as she opens up the window. before i can realize what's happening, she's already climbing on the window sill.... (you can have the pleasure of choosing who the 'he' is)(;

And the response below......

TW: suicide, war, death, yeah... read the prompt it's sort of that.

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The tattered remains of our army is barely past the adrenaline of the fight, some are just starting to take stock of their surroundings. I watch one man glance from the silver blood pooled around his feet up to the soldier at his right. He doesn't recognize the man. He wipes his face and turns on the spot looking at another soldier, and another, and another, moving from just glances into frenetic searching. He weaves through bodies looking down. He turns over corpses. Finally, he calls a name. Then more start calling. More start looking. By our numbers, most will not be reunited with the ones they seek. The stone is slick, a swamp filled with blood, bodies, and protruding weapons.

This is war. This is sorrow just surfacing to snuff out hope. And somehow, it's still a victory. Watching them search, I get an inch like I've forgotten something on my way here. There's something, someone... I should be searching for Mare. But she's not here. None of the Guard is here. They're off on their own mission, their own set of targets. She could be cold on a floor a thousand miles away or just laying down to sleep safely tucked under blankets. And I won't know the difference for a day, a week. Maybe I'll never know.

I can't think about her. About that. About what lies outside of my sphere, my choice. I can only think of the legion around me. These are my people. My soldiers. And they have just won me a great victory at great cost.

After a battle, the healers swarm in. We have twelve assigned to the keep and twenty to cover the larger area outside the walls. I haven't seen a single one, not yet. I hear a need for them rising around me.

Evangeline drags a sword behind her. It's the one mechanical, scraping sound among the groans and sobs of the wounded and the cries of the survivors. She looks lost in thought or maybe just lost. She's given up on holding her armor in place, the black tunic is all that remains of her shining iron gear. Blood trickles from her ear down her neck and more coats her pants and her arms. She strides over bodies, picking a wondering path between limbs. I'm relieved. She's alive. But she's not okay. Someone she loves is dead. I hope it's not Elaine.

She makes her way one step at a time, grief marring her face in the last six strides. Her arms around me and her face pressed into my chest illustrates just how much our relationship has changed. The comfort I offer is not enough, but it's still what she sought out, and I give it freely. I don't want her to hurt anymore than I want to kill. But whatever has happened, it's one more thing on the laundry list of horrible things that I can't change.

Helpless, she stares into my eyes and I see the storm swirling behind hers. I want to know, but I don't want to rush her into admitting what she's already discovered. So I hold her cheek, stroking at the drying blood with my thumb.

"He's gone. She's gone." She's shaking, blinking tears over her lids and down her cheeks. She pushes me, yelling, furious, combining grief and pain, "He's gone! You took... you took her... them from me!"

He. Her. Them. Both of them.

I shake my head. There aren't words. There isn't consolation. There's nothing in the world to comfort her. Everyone she treasured is gone and I am a distant catalyst that has ripped them away and it's all true. One silver coin, and this is where we are: torn apart.

She wipes at her face and looks around her, sudden realization and recognition. She covers her mouth and sucks in a breath, horrified at the bodies piled deep. She turns on the spot. She looks and wishes not to see. She closes her eyes and wants never to feel. She is shaking with everything and nothing and I would give anything to let her keep at least one of the people she loves.

Her eyes return to me and I can sense we have the same thought at the same time. I am all she has left, and she could never love me. Not after today. Not after the last year. Not after everything we've been through. There will never be love. And we both know there's no substitute for it.

I let her step away. I let her wonder further through the bodies and towards the blasted out windows. I watch her tug at her hair and hope she finds some solace in the distance she puts between us.

She picks at the glass. Her forearm rams through it flinging the shards and the remnants of the wooden seal out into the courtyard six or seven stories below. I start towards her, but I'm too late.

"Goodbye, Cal."

I fly over the soldiers and slip through the blood. I try even though I know I'll never close the distance. I look even though I never want to remember. For the briefest moment, her hair is fanned out and her body is close enough to contrast with the ground. But the further she falls, the dimmer she becomes, until I can only assume the sound I hear is her rejoining those that she's lost.

Another horrible thing on a really long list of horrible things. All for a crown, a thrown, an imagined peace.

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