Random Stories

A Hero's Graveyard (Variant One)

The graveyard carried with it the sculpted melancholy of a weeping angel as solemnly proceeding mist crept across the ground like some kind funeral procession for great monarch. An air of memory and bittersweet loss swirled across the unattended resting places. A richly and somberly carved arch held out comforting and inviting arms to the sole approaching figure.

The figure was clad in a cloak darker than midnight with the smallest glints of winter stars sewn in the enveloping fabric. Gloved fingers gently handled a swooning eidelweiss that was doubtless a remembrance for one long departed. Softly leathered boots walked a path through the graves that they remembered, carrying their warmly sad master to a place he knew well. A large, carved headstone with bouquets from admirers and notes scattered around the base stood prominently among the older gravestones forgotten by time and tears. The quiet figure came to a stop in front of the decorated sight, then fell quietly to their knees. The black gloves quietly swept the unfeeling offerings of admirers to the side to clear a small place on the gray stone. The eidelweiss was reverantly placed on the bare stone, as a hint of a bitter smile graced the face of the mourner.

He reached up, taking his hood away and revealing a young, haggard face lined with worry and perhaps some anger. His green eyes were melancholy as the villain knelt in front of the grave of his father. His smile was reminiscent and sad, and he spoke softly to the grave in a voice laden with memories and promises.

"Eidelweiss was always your favorite. I could never understand, it seemed to weak and fragile. But you loved that, didn't you?" He laughed quietly, a bittersweet sound. "Always protecting the weak and innocent, even in your choice of flowers."

His gloved hands picked up a discarded rose, almost thoughtfully. "I think I understand now. Wanting to protect someone at all costs. Though perhaps my reasons are less.... Noble... than yours were." He twisted the stem in his hands, spinning the blossom with a far off expression. "I saw Mother again today." His mouth quirked up in a half-smile. "Sometimes I wish she had fallen instead of you. How you would hate to hear that! You always did wish we could get along."

The rose stem snapped and the delicate bud fell to the ground. Mathias looked at it, and sorrow clouded his eyes. He drew his legs up, wrapping his arms around himself in a rare display of weakness. His green eyes, eyes inherited from his father, grew shimmery with surpressed tears. "I wonder... what would have happened if I had been different? What if I was... good. Like you. Not some disgusting, evil person." His voice filled with self-loathing and he tightened in on himself as a sob hitched his breath.

"I miss you."

He whispered this quietly and brokenly, as the repressed emotion from so long traced a funeral path along his cheek. He looked so alone, so different in the mist all alone. Somehow you couldn't look at him and see the great silvertongued minion, Wormtrust. Somehow, all you could see was a broken boy who hated himself, missed his father and wished only to be understood in a world deaf to tears.

"Sometimes I pray for the end, a permanent one. Just so that I can see you again. Right now, you would... hug me and just tell me what I needed to hear." His laugh was twisted with grief. "I never knew what I needed to hear until you said it. But... I'm trying." He sounded like a child seeking approval from a teacher or hero. "I'm trying so hard to just live as myself and not someone else."

His voice dropped, sounding frightened and lonely, yes, but also tinged with hope. "Are you proud of me?"