Re: In His Shadow (M)
Author: Hey Julieanna, give me a little credit here. I know what I'm doin and I know that this is a site that has kiddos on it. I don't plan to go into detail. It's not really important to the story I'm tellin here. So don't worry. But thanks for the compliment and being sure I don't frighten small children.
Chapter Two:
The Crones
The guards left Nabooru and me outside the door to the meeting room. A strong smell of incense hit my nose as I walked in. It was a dimly lit room with bare stone floors and no windows. There were bleach white skulls of animals with feathers and colored threads wrapped around them hanging on the walls along with paintings of the fiery goddess Din.
On the wall directly across from the door was a very large painting of my father. A large and unattractive man in black and dark brown leather studded with the usual orange gems, bronze, and gold, he sat in a big throne-like chair made of bleach-white bones, black ebony, gold, bronze, and gems.
Ganondorf Dragmire had a massive widow’s peak and bushy eyebrows that traveled so far back it nearly reached the corners of his hairline. He had the usual Gerudo hair, skin, nose, and eyes. He was thick and muscular in the picture as he had been in life. He wore the amber stone on his forehead, cast bronze and gold without the tiara for it to hang from.
My forehead itched again from the glue that kept the jewel on.
My father’s figure sat back in his chair in an almost lazy slouch. His leg crossed over the other and his left elbow rested on the chair arm, his chin perched on top of his fist. His tan face was lifeless and his bronze eyes stared contemptuously at me.
I swallowed again, my throat pushing against the collar on my neck once more. Even pictures of my father made me nervous. The experience of the real thing had never truly left me. When I was younger I used to have nightmares about my father returning from the realm he had been sealed away in.
I still had nightmares about my father.
They were very strange, because I was always about the age I was now in them, and they were always the same. I’d been having them since I was ten. In life and in my dreams my father had always made me feel as a small insignificant bug that he could easily squash. Like an ant that he had to be careful not to step on accidentally. As a boy, I quickly and always scurried out of his way.
The painting of my father hung over the same chair that was in the picture. This throne sat at the far wall on the other side of the room and before it laid a dark ebony stone and bone table. The table was long and rectangular with other similar but smaller and less glorified chairs around it. The throne sat at the head of the table. There were six other chairs, three sat at on each side of the table. At the other end sat another chair, a little fancier than the other six but smaller than the throne.
On the six chairs sat six old Gerudo. They were known as the Crones. Advisors and political leaders. They were slightly under Nabooru’s ranking, but their political power among the Gerudo was great. They were the aged sorceresses of their kind. There are very few in the Gerudo that could use magic. They were considered holy, chosen by Din to have such powers. It was also known as the Rova Sisterhood. Many were descendents from old “Pure” bloodlines. Those who were accepted into the sisterhood disowned their original names and claimed the new one of the position that was open. There are only six positions in the Rova Sisterhood.
The Crones wore black baggy robes despite the hot climate. They had hoods that they always wore up around their graying heads and wrinkled leathery faces. On their foreheads sat gems of different colors: golden yellow, emerald green, ruby red, sapphire blue, glassy black with purple hues, and an amber-like orange. They were set into bronze castings and glittered in the darkness of their hoods.
They all turned their beak-like noses to me and Nabooru when we entered. They all nodded to her, in the way that one nods in challenge to their opponents. When they set their heads and eyes to me they did not nod. The Crones loved me as much as one loves pulling teeth. In their eyes, I was a perversion of their race. A second male within the same hundred years as the first had never happened before in the entire history of the Gerudo. Nabooru said it was most likely because my mother had been a Hylian. The kings of the past had never mated with them before.
At the moment the Gerudo tribe was split in two. Some believed I was a gift from Din. A sign of success and victory. They believed I would lead their people into a golden age of prosperity that the Gerudo had never seen. If males were so rare then a second is even more valuable.
Others believed it was a bad omen. A curse sent by the magic of the Hylian woman that had birthed me. They thought I should have been killed at birth. The Crones belonged to the latter. They were the ones that led those believers.
Nabooru headed the first group, and she had gained a lot of popularity. Good news for me.
Another factor of the split was due to the Drow Empire that had conquered the Hylians six years ago. The empire had sent them an invitation, a request of friendship. They were apparently another race that valued the power of women. The empire wanted the Gerudo to join them in their conquest of other nations. Nabooru turned down their offer. Instead, she started gathering up the Hylians that had managed to escape and was forming a resistance.
The Crones and many other Gerudo were strongly against this. They did not see the reason in aiding their old enemies. The Hylians and Gerudo had been at odds with each other for years. Especially since the Great War fifteen years ago when the Gerudo decided to wage battle against the Hylians for land, angry for being banished to the harshness of the desert. There had been number of other beliefs behind the Gerudo’s decision to declare war. Such as the Gerudo’s suddenly developed sense of importance. Ganondorf started a doctrine of belief that stated all other races should bow to the might of Din’s daughters, the Gerudo, for they were created in her image.
Nabooru urged to our people that the Gerudo were too proud to bow to the Drow Empire. If they joined the empire then they would be forced to do a greater power’s bidding, taking the freedom and individuality of the Gerudo. Even if they did not join them, not aiding the Hylians would lead to disaster. The Drow would eventually wish to conquer the Gerudo the way they had the Hylians. Their only chance to keep their freedom and home was to join forces with the Hylians, the Gorons, and the Zora.
The Gerudo would be in charge, gathering up survivors. The Hylians would be guests and at their mercy for a change. Once they torn down the empire then the Hylians would be obligated to give their saviors land and better living conditions. It would help to create peace between the races of Hyrule.
Nabooru gained the majority of the Gerudo’s favor. Believe it or not, not everyone had bought my father’s bull **** on our race being more superior to the others or that they were the descendents of Din. There had been those that did not believe in the war they fought. Some had but once faced with the brutality of battle and the merciless slaughter of the Sheikah had changed their minds. So now we were leading the other races of Hyrule in a rebellion. We called ourselves the Desert Rebellion. There were rumors of another group of Hylians that had taken shelter in Kokiri Forest in the south east and were starting their own organization of resistance. They were dubbed the Forest Rebellion.
The Crones were very bitter about losing that political battle with Nabooru. However, after six years of directing and forming a rebellion, there was nothing else they could do to dissuade the Gerudo that had agreed with her. I had helped in that, having voiced my agreement of Nabooru’s reasoning. Those who believed I was a gift from the goddess quickly sided with her; thus, proving to be a very annoying thorn in their collective side.
It was never very comfortable to be in the same room as the bunch of old hags that had once wished to sacrifice me as a baby in some freakish ritual to appease Din.
So I answered their heartless, cold stares with a confident smile. Secretly, I was hoping they weren’t starting to hire assassins yet. Nab said it was possible. Yet, perhaps it was because I was still young that they did not see me as much of a threat. Besides, they had heard about my wishes to denounce my title as prince and heir to the Gerudo throne. Strangely, this was the first time we had reached an agreement, which was a little unsettling to me.
Nabooru always told me the rule of thumb was that if the Crones disagreed then you were on the right track.
“Welcome Shahoma-sama,” croaked the crone with the orange stone.
I recalled her to be this year’s Asna Rova, the Spirit Crone. She turned her liver spotted face to me. Her thick gray hair spilled straight down from out of her hood. Asna sat near the throne on the right side, across from the crone with the black gem, known as Letuma Rova, the Shadow Crone.
The old Gerudo narrowed her bronze eyes at me and smiled, causing her skin to crinkle up. “Dragmire-sama, please have a seat so our meeting can begin.”
Nabooru moved from my side after Asna had addressed her, sitting in the smaller chair at the end of the table. It was after the crone asked me to take a seat when I realized that the only other seat in the room was the throne at the head of the table.
I had seen and spoken with the Crones before, but this was my first official meeting. I hadn’t been allowed to the others because I had been too young. Yet for some reason, it had come as a complete shock that I was expected to sit in that chair.
My eyes drifted over them, feeling lost. The Crones stared back. They smiled their wrinkly smiles, waiting patiently, which was a little eerie to see.
All except the Shadow Crone. Letuma watched me, but her face remained impassive and blank, merely observing without judgment as she gripped the top of a bone cane. A few wisps of gray hair flowed around her wrinkly face like threaded cobwebs. The little staff in her hands looked to be made out of two leg bones with ancient runes carved into it filled with silver and at the top sharp white fangs cupped a glassy stone similar to the one on her forehead.
It was best not to show weakness in front of them. So to avoid looking less confident of myself, I started a slow and hesitant walk over to the throne.
Sure a brisk and strong swagger would have been more convincing, but hey, at least I started walking over to it.
I stopped before sitting down and stared at the highly decorated chair that waited for me as patiently as the Crones. I knew I was taking too long to sit down and could feel Nab’s urgent stare poking at the back of my neck. She had repeatedly badgered me about appearing sure and steady.
I looked up at my father’s picture that hung over the throne ominously. I felt my mouth go dry and my fists clench at my sides. Ganondorf’s unforgiving gaze bore down upon me. And I realized the expression matched the one I always saw when my father looked at me, the very few times he had ever looked my way.
Disdain.
As if he were looking at a pest.
I swallowed. The damn choker felt like hands clamped around my throat, threatening but not deadly. I sat down on the scarlet velvet cushion of the throne. The chair was made for a man much larger than me. I felt small. The braces on my arms felt like tight chains, heavier and more restricting. My forehead itched again and the stone cling to my skin like a leech. My father’s eyes haunted me from behind where I knew the picture hung.
I looked up and tried not to let the unease show on my face. I needed confidence and strength. I forced my back to remain straight and gripped the chair arms to keep my hands from visibly shaking. My knuckles turned a little pale.
The Crones were all watching me so attentively that I was worried they knew. That nothing I could do now would fix the apprehension I had shown.
I didn’t let that stop me from trying.
I tried to look relaxed in the seat, but I wasn’t sure how well I was doing. I didn’t allow myself to look at Nabooru for a clue. That would be another sign of weakness, to be dependent on her.
Instead I met all the Rovas’ gazes steadily.
“Honored Rovas, you called this council,” I began. My voice was steady and calm. Just like how I wanted it to be. I was Prince Dragmire now. “Now what is it that you wished to discuss?”
Asna spoke. She was the unofficial leader of the Rovas. It was an unspoken law that the Spirit Crone would have the most authority.
“My Lord Dragmire and Lady Shahoma, we, the Crones, desire to speak on the matter of His Grace’s betrothal. We have yet to assign you a mate from whom your great blood may continue to flow through the proud Gerudo.”
Translation: We want you to find some Gerudo we approve of and get her pregnant.
I held back the twitch of my eyebrows that wished to look baffled. Instead, I stared blankly at Asna.
Why were the Crones suddenly interested in my next heir? I wasn’t even king yet. Ah, but that was it. They knew I didn’t want to be the next king, and they didn’t want Trisa to be the next heir after Nabooru to lead the Gerudo. Trisa was raised by Nabooru and wouldn’t allow them to control her. They wanted me to have a child before I declined my title. Probably from a girl of their choosing who would be one of their followers, so that they could raise and influence the child to their liking, to be their puppet. Like my father had been.
Now that I had worked that out …
What could I possibly say to that?
It was tradition. The Gerudo Kings always mated with a Gerudo. They always made sure that there would be the next line of “Pure Blood.” Gerudos always had to go to the Hylian men to continue our race. Therefore, all Gerudo had Hylian blood. Once there was a male Gerudo, they made certain they reproduced with another Gerudo to create what they called a “Pure Blood Gerudo.” This Gerudo and her heirs would be the next to rule them until another male appeared.
Trisa was an example of this. She was Nabooru and Ganondorf’s daughter. I only got dibs on being the heir because I was male.
By Din, sometimes I wished I had been born female.
This was another one of those times. Talk about vagina envy.
I could try to put it off. Tell them that they should wait. Maybe I could get away with renouncing my title before I was expected to produce an heir.
I highly doubted it. Even the Gerudo that were mine and Nab’s supporters believed in this silly tradition. It could hurt Nabooru and Trisa’s reputation. Right now it was kept quiet that I was going to renounce my title. Our Gerudo supporters would have a fit if they knew.
It was more of a theory that the Crones knew I was going to give up the throne. Nab and I were pretty sure, even though the Crones could do nothing to prove it. It was obvious that they were pleased by it, and wanted to make this turn in their favor.
Bah. Politics. I hated this.
I was stuck between the rock and the hard place. No matter what, denouncing my title as prince and future king would hurt Nab’s political support. But, by thunder, I wasn’t going to let the Crones have their way with this whole mating thing. There was no way I was going to hand them my child to twist and pervert for their own desires.
Nabooru stayed quiet, allowing me to handle the situation by myself. I almost didn’t even notice her absence. She watched me from across the table. Pensive but unreadable. She was an observer today.
“… Did you have a particular girl in mind for me?” I had to prod it farther. I wasn’t really saying I would do it any time soon.
The Crones, with the exception of Letuma, all smiled in unison.
Creepy. Creepy old women.
“We strongly recommend that you mate with Shahoma Trisa when she has been deemed appropriate of age,” Asna croaked, but very clearly.
I didn’t bother hiding my disgust. I looked down the table at Nabooru. Her lovely face was stern, eyebrows knitting together.
They wanted me to have sex with my sister.
My sister.
“My Lord, it has been done in the past by other great kings. It is the best way to keep the blood purest,” continued the Spirit Crone. Her tone was reassuring, as if that made it better somehow.
I hadn’t been expecting that. What were they thinking? Trisa? Not only was that disgusting, but it didn’t seem to favor their motives. Trisa was Nabooru’s daughter through-and-through. It would be hard to imprint their influence on her child. They would have a better chance with one of their supporters. Why did they want Trisa?
Maybe it was because they were so blood obsessed and crazy that it didn’t matter to them.
A chill ran down my spine, though it was not remotely cool in the room.
Creepy, crazy, old women.
I calmed my expression back down into one I hoped was solid and commanding. I kept my eyes glued to Asna’s. “No.”
The Rova Sisters blinked as if a single being.
All except Letuma who kept watching me steadily, it was a little unnerving. Her expression hardly changed at all through the meeting so far. Some times I thought she knew more than the others, like she could see straight into me. Yet, she never seemed to flow with the other Crones. It seemed she never pressed me and Nab as much. She just watched. I didn’t like looking her in the eyes. There was something strange about them.
The next to speak was the hag wearing the red stone: Navita Rova, the Fire Crone. Her thick curly hair stuck out of her hood in great bushes, parts of it still had scarlet blotches in the gray. Her bugling bronze eyes gazed at me with great offense.
“So that you can continue to mingle with those Hylian women?” Her voice boomed a little more loudly then needed from that plump body of hers, but I was used to it by now.
“Yes, with that Hylian girl,” whispered the witch under the blue gem. Pluvia Rova, the Water Crone. Her voice was extremely soft in comparison to the Fire Crone. As was her hair, which hung flat and limp within her hood. Her squinty eyes pierced at me from a pinched rat-like face.
I blinked at them with blankness. I was more confused than I looked. What Hylian girl were they talking about?
I did like the Hylian girls. They were different than Gerudos. Their culture made them a little harder to catch. It was always an interesting chase. But there were many I had been with. Somehow they had managed to narrow it down to one.
I got a sinking feeling in my gut. I didn’t like this. I didn’t like not knowing what they were thinking.
“What Hylian girl?” I almost said which Hylian girl.
The crone wearing the golden yellow jewel on her head smiled knowingly at me from next to Nab on the other side of the table. Luma Rova, the Light Crone. Believe it or not, she was actually Letuma’s twin sister, though they didn’t look very much alike. Her teeth were brown and almost as yellow as her gem stone. “Why, that Serwen girl.”
I felt my stomach lurch.
Leita.
Why Leita? The one Hylian girl I had never laid hands on and never dared to. What were they planning? Did they know? No—they couldn’t. No one knew about that. Except Nab and Trisa. No one knew.
Panic was rising in me, forcing my gut to clench. I tried to keep it off my face, but I saw the Rovas smile. Letuma studied me more intently. I could feel her eyes pressing at mine, as if trying to catch them.
True, I had been close with Serwen Khaz, Leita’s older brother. We had been best friends for four years until what happened two years ago.
Yeah, I had feelings for her, but she was the only one I never …
I couldn’t go after her like I had the others. She was different. Leita was …
Special.
It didn’t feel right to treat her like the other ones. But then I didn’t know how else to go about it. Besides, I knew Khaz would tell me she was off limits.
But I had hardly spoken to them for two years. So why were they targeting the Serwens? One that I definitely had not been with intimately.
My mouth was dry and my hands gripped the chair tightly, knuckles turning white. I felt my father’s eyes pounding at the back of my head.
I tried to calm myself.
Think clearly.
They wanted to drive me into a corner. The mating with Trisa threw me off their trail to begin with and now they were battering me with Leita, a girl I never even spoke to anymore. What did they want from me? There had to be another motive. Did they want to squeeze information out of me …?
Nab covered it up. Maybe they knew she had. Everyone thought so. No one could prove it. No one dared challenge Nabooru on the subject either. It was an unspoken boundary. The Crones knew they would get nothing from her about it, but maybe they thought they could from me.
My heart thudded heavily against my ribs. I stopped breathing for a moment.
I’d die before I’d tell another soul.
I fought most of my waking hours to not think about them anymore. Even when I saw Khaz and Leita around the fortress. My mind would go numb and blank. So cold. I would speak to them sometimes, when around other people, but it felt like it was someone else making the small talk while I watched from inside.
Oh Din, they had managed to shake me so harshly with such simple words. With only lightly implying one person into it. They found my weakness so easily. There was nothing I could do to stop them from knowing I avoided the Serwens. They would want to know why. A simple lie would do me no good. They could see just how nervous they had made me by mentioning Leita.
I sat frozen in my father’s throne. They had trapped me in their little mind games. I licked sweat from my upper lip, trying to calm down and think of some way around it. The faint taste of salt tingled on my tongue. They watched with pleased smiles as I struggled.
So trapped.
Like when I woke up strapped to a chair in Sori’s dark little office.
“You may scream if you must, but no one will hear you.”
My father’s eyes felt like knives in my spine. The choker on my neck felt like cold hands strangling me, making it a fight to breathe. The braces on my arms felt tight like the bindings had been in Sori’s office chair. The stone on my head itched and festered like an infected wound.
“Please, my Honored Crones, Serwen Leita is still a rather sore topic for him. You must know how young love can be,” Nabooru spoke up from the other end of the table.
I looked up at her. I had forgotten she was there.
“Those Hylian women can be tricky. Blaze-kun has learned not to have a betrothal interest in them. He only finds them amusing.”
Of course. It was so simple. I was panicking for no reason. It was a believable lie, explaining my apparent weakness around the subject of the Serwens. It seemed as if Leita had broken my heart, or I angered her brother, causing the obvious distance between us. Despite the fact it seemed to happen around the same time Sori was kil—when Sori died. They may or may not take the bait.
It didn’t matter if they suspected something. They can’t prove it.
The Crones were hesitant but eventually nodded to Nabooru. Yet Letuma hadn’t paid her much attention. Her bronze eyes were still upon me, but I continued to ignore it.
Instead, I relaxed my grip on the chair, wiggling and cracking my knuckles to force color back into them. I drew a quiet breath in through my nose and started breathing again. Nabooru had bought me time. But I wasn’t sure if she’d let me do the rest of the meeting on my own again. My insides cringed with a hot flush of shame and guilt.
Terra Rova’s voice came out irritably from under her hood were the green gem on her head glittered through the crimpled wave of hair that threatened to cover it.
“Hmp! A king should know better than to mingle with those nasty Hylian women! You would do well, my dear Prince, to learn from your father’s mistake!” The Forest Crone pointed an accusing shriveled finger at me.
Right, because I’m his mistake.
Okay, now I was pissed. Not only had they shoved me into a corner, in which they dug their old nosy fingers into my sore spot, they also humiliated me in the process, and now this old hag was rubbing, or rather, grinding my father into my face. Terra always liked to do that the most out of the rest of the Crones. The rest did it as well, but never as directly as her. For that, I had a special place of loathing for Terra Rova.
“Don’t you worry about me, Terra-san; I’ve taken special care not to repeat the patterns of a mad tyrant.” I looked directly at her, and I hadn’t said it in my perfect polite Prince Dragmire voice. I was ill-mannered Blaze, and I was ****ing sick of all this **** they threw at me.
All the Rovas exempt of Letuma and Asna, bristled at my words. Navita slammed a chubby hand down on the ivory table, emitting a loud slapping noise from her open palm.
“How dare you speak such blasphemous words of your Honored Father, you insolent demon!” The Fire Crone snarled, her great nostrils flaring heatedly. The Crones worshipped my father like a god. They always spoke respectfully of him and all the horrible things he did.
This time a pleased smile came to my lips.
“Really? I thought I was only agreeing with Terra-san, that my father made mistakes. Does this mean, Terra-san spoke ill and blasphemous words of my Honored Father?” This time Prince Dragmire came out as I relaxed in my chair. I leaned back, perching my elbow on the throne arm, resting the side of my face against my fist, crossing a leg over the other.
I watched Navita and Terra become flustered with their outrage. Pluvia boiled quietly in her chair. Luma gazed over at me with narrowed, disapproving eyes. I felt Letuma’s watchful eyes on me, which made me feel different than Luma’s did. Instead of gleefully enjoying the frustration I gave them, my eyes went to the ivory table as I felt my forehead itch again. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, sitting up and uncrossing my legs. I looked up at Nabooru.
She was chuckling quietly from the other side of the table, watching me with proud eyes that made the burning guilt in my sides cool and ease away. I grinned back at her.
Asna finally brought order back to the meeting. She had been perfectly calm during all of this. She smiled directly at me as she said, “Please, let us not distract ourselves from the focus of our topic, my dear Sisters and great Prince.”
The thing about Asna that I didn’t like was how I never really knew what she was thinking. She was intelligent, collected, and hard to read, which was bad. It would have been better for me if the Crones were led by someone like Navita: stupid, predictable, and easy to anger.
The meeting dragged on without many more interruptions. I battled more with them on the subject of possible mates that I would produce an heir with. Nab and I stayed firm that Trisa would never be a possible mate. The Crones kept fighting for it and never truly gave up, even at the end of the meeting. We asked for the Crones to create a list of their nominations. We would also create our own list. Then made arrangements to discuss them at another meeting.
I was happy to leave my father’s throne once the meeting was over. I wanted to leap out of it and skip away, but I was Prince Dragmire. So I stood up with dignity and grace to follow Nabooru to the door. My father’s eyes followed me as well, tacked to the back of my head until the door shut behind me. It was silent on the way back, just like it had been on the way there. Nab and I waited until we got home and closed the door on our guards to smile at each other.
I started peeling the stone off on my head immediately as we walked farther into our home.
The main living area was filled with warm and dark browns, maroons, and auburn colors. We had Gerudo tapestries decorating the sand stone walls and cozy rugs on the floor. In the center was a large, wide coffee table made of fine dark wood. It had scratches, buffs, and chips in it from being well loved by our family. Sitting around the table were dark maroon and brown couches and arm chairs that had silky feather pillows with stains from food accidents when Trisa and I were children. There was a stone heath against a wall, not lit, with a wooden table next to it.
The large living area opened up to a huge balcony. The heavy scarlet drapes were tied back to the sides to show the sun burning on the desert horizon, dying the sky red, orange, and gold beyond the giant wall built to protect us from the waste land’s harsh winds and sand storms. There were doors off to the sides, leading to our rooms, Nab’s office, and pot chambers.
I started pulling all my jewelry off, tossing them onto a couch.
“I admit. I was worried there for a moment.” Nab flopped down in an arm chair.
I felt the echoing sting of shame vibrate inside my chest. But I smirked like I did when I was embarrassed. It gave others the impression that I was too confident to care. The girls love it.
“It was nothing, Nab. Just a little bump.”
My mother crooked the corner of her mouth to smile at me. That mischievous smile. She knew I was embarrassed. But I knew she wouldn’t rub it in my face.
“You reminded me of your father.”
I dropped the smirk quickly and looked away from her, still holding the last bracelet in my hand. I let it drop onto the couch after the small delay.
“Blaze, you know he wasn’t always so bad.”
I knew the story.
That’s what frightened me the most.
My father had once been known as a “good person.” I didn’t really know anything about that. He had never really paid me much attention. When he did, he had that “oh, so you’re still around here” look. And then there was that one other time, but I don’t like to think about that too much.
Nabooru had named me after him. His full name was Ganondorf Blaze Dragmire. So she named me Blaze O’ray Dragmire.
I didn’t say anything back to her, staring at my bracelets instead.
“Blaze … I’m worried about you. And with what happened back in the meeting …”
I smirked at her, looking up with raised eyebrows. “I said it was just a bump.”
She stared at me with those narrowed eyes, furrowed eyebrows, and lifeless lips. Nab sat with her jewelry still on. She was used to all of it by now, having been royalty longer than me.
She was used to my avoidance maneuvers as well.
“How long are you going to carry on like this, child? I know you’d feel better if you told Khaz-kun the truth. It’s painful to watch the two of you be like this. Why have him suffer and, possibly, hate you over a misunderstanding?”
It didn’t matter. Either way, Khaz suffered because of me. He would hate me too. When the truth hurt more, it was easier to live the lie. I wasn’t sure who it was easier for, me or Khaz.
I looked away from her. The truth was that I was just too afraid to tell him. He would probably hate me even more. It already hurt too much now, when he thought I had abandoned him for the same reasons the others did. But I had abandoned him, just the same, even if the reasons were different.
Trisa and Nab mentioned it to me every now and then, trying to encourage me to talk to Khaz about it these past two years. I let them do it, but never really promised them anything.
I was a coward. It was what I did best.
“He won’t hate you.”
My gold and bronze jewelry gleamed in the dying light of the sun. The amber gems twinkled at me from the cushioned seat.
Perhaps it was that I didn’t understand her. Or maybe it was she who didn’t understand. I couldn’t really decide which it was, or why she would say that. What was it that made her think he wouldn’t hate me? Not in anyway way could it be made better.
Only worse.
Once more, this was what made me a coward. I wasn’t willing to even try. Just like before. Maybe I had once, a shadow of courage in me, but whatever it was, Sori had taken it from me. In that dark little coffin office of his.
05-31-2008, 02:44 AM
Heh, the Twin Rova sisters laugh (in the game) always annoyed me lol.
