Bitterness (Dorrien's POV)
My third little one-shot fic. It takes the events of Dorrien discovering Akkarin and Sonea near the South Pass (The High Lord, ch. 27) from Dorrien's point of view. Here are my two other short BMT character fics: Regret (Sonea's POV): http://blackmagiciangr.14.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=537 Guilt (Akkarin's POV): http://blackmagiciangr.14.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=545 ______________________ I was, ironically enough, sitting at the table thinking back on the first time I met Sonea, when my assistant arrived. "My Lord- two Kyralians close to the South Pass- exhausted and dehydrated. They need a Healer." "Magicians?" My eyes couldn't hide the flicker of hope, though my voice remained steady. The Guild had ordered me to watch the road and turn them back if they returned. I had planned everything carefully. I'd order the former High Lord back, but keep Sonea in my home under the pretence that she was a villager in need of a Healer. She would make use of the chance to see reason, I was sure of it. The Guild would never know. "Not likely, my Lord. Simple farmer clothing." The flicker of hope refused to waver. If my assistant thought my sudden enthusiasm odd, he made no comment of it. I barely noticed. It must be Sonea. It had to be Sonea. Before I knew it, I had loaded a few healing supplies onto my horse and was riding fast, the line of trees at the skirts of the mountains growing clearer by the minute. The South Pass loomed above, ever imposing. I tried to block out the wave of worry that threatened to overwhelm me. The though of Sonea, tired and hurt, with only that murderer, that mind-tricker for company... The dark shape at the roots of one of the first trees jolted me out of my thoughts. I urged the horse on, but at a silent walk. My heart was trembling in relief. It was her; I could see her thin face, her dark brows, her parted lips as she lay sleeping heavily. Her flawless pale skin was streaked with dirt, and had an unhealthy tinge to it. But she was here and she was alive; that was all that mattered. Next to her was the former High Lord, in the same exhausted state. I barely wanted to spare him a glance. Whether he was dead or alive I wouldn't care, but as a Healer I nevertheless observed him and noted the injuries. I wanted to see her eyes again, hear her voice, see her lovely but rare smile. But she looked so tired, I couldn't bring myself to wake her up. So I watched her. I took in every inch of her, every eyelash, every sound she made in her sleep. I had thought, before, that she was just a small infatuation. But the realisation that I felt something more had hit me when I'd heard, in disbelief and bitterness, of her exile. Then her eyes fluttered behind her eyelids, and she sighed a moment. I tensed, ready to bend down beside her when she woke. But she didn't open her eyes. Instead, sleepily, she shifted a little to lie her head on Akkarin's chest, and rested a hand next to it. She breathed in heavily, as if inhaling his scent. At Sonea's movement, Akkarin stirred too, easing his arm around her to pull her closer. Sonea sighed in what could only be contentment, and both figures surrendered to sleep again. I stood, frozen, still tense. Then I straightened, and stared at them both, unblinking. I stared unmovingly for so long, my sight blurred and the surrounding dust stung my eyes. Minutes passed, I stood gazing. The sight left a bitter taste in my mouth. The shock then wore off, only to be replaced with a building anger. It grew inside me, a violent wave like the ones on the coasts of Vin, threatening to take over. That murderer. That manipulative, cold seducer. What webs had he woven around Sonea's mind, Sonea's heart? It took all the self-control I possessed not to snatch her from his icy grip right there. I refused to see the situation in any other way. Then her lashes quivered. Her eyes opened wearily, unseeingly. Her hand, the one on that man's chest, gently stroked, as if to first and foremost assure herself of his presence. I could feel my jaw clenching. But still my mind refused- no, my heart refused- to acknowledge the gesture as proof of mutual affection. Her dark eyes had focused now, and as she recognised my face her gaze was joyful. "Dorrien! You have no idea how good it is to see you." I tried to unlock my jaw, I tried to relax my expression into one of relief, but to no avail. All I could do was gaze back accusingly. Her expression changed swiftly when mine didn't. What was wrong with me? Sonea is here. Sonea is alive. Sonea is an exile. Her eyes were pleading somewhere below the determined surface. Please, understand, they said. My choice is irrelevant- we are facing real danger. She couldn't know that it wasn't her choice to accept exile that was hurting me, but her choice of men. It was a haze, a haze of cold fury and self-loathing over my eyes. Fury at the man- if he could even be called a man!- now waking beside her, self-loathing at my jealousy and inability to get perspective. But he was awake now, and Sonea's attention was instantly on him, before returning to my face again. My heart burned, but their eyes burned harder. Hers warm and worried, his protective and calculating. Distance. Distance for now. Until we have a chance to be alone, I thought. I avoided Sonea's eyes one last time and bitterly spoke in the former High Lord's direction. "What are you doing here?" I demanded. However it was Sonea who answered. "I... we... I don't know where to start, Dorrien." The genuineness in her voice was piercing me, but I stiffened as that man spoke. "We are here to warn you." The calmness in his low voice irritated me. "The Ichani plan to enter Kyralia in a few days." With every word he said, I assessed the man. I had never really paid to much attention to him before. He had treated my father well, and that was as far as I had been interested. Was. What I wouldn't have given to have known him better, so I could have warned Sonea about his nature. But what was done was done now. I struggled to find my voice. It came out hostile and low. "You are exiles. You cannot return to this land." If she had fallen so willingly into the man's trap and refused to see reason, so be it. She didn't want to be saved. My plan was out of the question, and I felt foolish for going to such heights to think of it. He wouldn't leave her, and she wouldn't leave him. My heart had stopped burning now. Instead, it felt caked with ice. They had better have a good excuse for coming back.
My third little one-shot fic. It takes the events of Dorrien discovering Akkarin and Sonea near the South Pass (The High Lord, ch. 27) from Dorrien's point of view. Here are my two other short BMT character fics: Regret (Sonea's POV): http://blackmagiciangr.14.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=537 Guilt (Akkarin's POV): http://blackmagiciangr.14.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=545 ______________________ I was, ironically enough, sitting at the table thinking back on the first time I met Sonea, when my assistant arrived. "My Lord- two Kyralians close to the South Pass- exhausted and dehydrated. They need a Healer." "Magicians?" My eyes couldn't hide the flicker of hope, though my voice remained steady. The Guild had ordered me to watch the road and turn them back if they returned. I had planned everything carefully. I'd order the former High Lord back, but keep Sonea in my home under the pretence that she was a villager in need of a Healer. She would make use of the chance to see reason, I was sure of it. The Guild would never know. "Not likely, my Lord. Simple farmer clothing." The flicker of hope refused to waver. If my assistant thought my sudden enthusiasm odd, he made no comment of it. I barely noticed. It must be Sonea. It had to be Sonea. Before I knew it, I had loaded a few healing supplies onto my horse and was riding fast, the line of trees at the skirts of the mountains growing clearer by the minute. The South Pass loomed above, ever imposing. I tried to block out the wave of worry that threatened to overwhelm me. The though of Sonea, tired and hurt, with only that murderer, that mind-tricker for company... The dark shape at the roots of one of the first trees jolted me out of my thoughts. I urged the horse on, but at a silent walk. My heart was trembling in relief. It was her; I could see her thin face, her dark brows, her parted lips as she lay sleeping heavily. Her flawless pale skin was streaked with dirt, and had an unhealthy tinge to it. But she was here and she was alive; that was all that mattered. Next to her was the former High Lord, in the same exhausted state. I barely wanted to spare him a glance. Whether he was dead or alive I wouldn't care, but as a Healer I nevertheless observed him and noted the injuries. I wanted to see her eyes again, hear her voice, see her lovely but rare smile. But she looked so tired, I couldn't bring myself to wake her up. So I watched her. I took in every inch of her, every eyelash, every sound she made in her sleep. I had thought, before, that she was just a small infatuation. But the realisation that I felt something more had hit me when I'd heard, in disbelief and bitterness, of her exile. Then her eyes fluttered behind her eyelids, and she sighed a moment. I tensed, ready to bend down beside her when she woke. But she didn't open her eyes. Instead, sleepily, she shifted a little to lie her head on Akkarin's chest, and rested a hand next to it. She breathed in heavily, as if inhaling his scent. At Sonea's movement, Akkarin stirred too, easing his arm around her to pull her closer. Sonea sighed in what could only be contentment, and both figures surrendered to sleep again. I stood, frozen, still tense. Then I straightened, and stared at them both, unblinking. I stared unmovingly for so long, my sight blurred and the surrounding dust stung my eyes. Minutes passed, I stood gazing. The sight left a bitter taste in my mouth. The shock then wore off, only to be replaced with a building anger. It grew inside me, a violent wave like the ones on the coasts of Vin, threatening to take over. That murderer. That manipulative, cold seducer. What webs had he woven around Sonea's mind, Sonea's heart? It took all the self-control I possessed not to snatch her from his icy grip right there. I refused to see the situation in any other way. Then her lashes quivered. Her eyes opened wearily, unseeingly. Her hand, the one on that man's chest, gently stroked, as if to first and foremost assure herself of his presence. I could feel my jaw clenching. But still my mind refused- no, my heart refused- to acknowledge the gesture as proof of mutual affection. Her dark eyes had focused now, and as she recognised my face her gaze was joyful. "Dorrien! You have no idea how good it is to see you." I tried to unlock my jaw, I tried to relax my expression into one of relief, but to no avail. All I could do was gaze back accusingly. Her expression changed swiftly when mine didn't. What was wrong with me? Sonea is here. Sonea is alive. Sonea is an exile. Her eyes were pleading somewhere below the determined surface. Please, understand, they said. My choice is irrelevant- we are facing real danger. She couldn't know that it wasn't her choice to accept exile that was hurting me, but her choice of men. It was a haze, a haze of cold fury and self-loathing over my eyes. Fury at the man- if he could even be called a man!- now waking beside her, self-loathing at my jealousy and inability to get perspective. But he was awake now, and Sonea's attention was instantly on him, before returning to my face again. My heart burned, but their eyes burned harder. Hers warm and worried, his protective and calculating. Distance. Distance for now. Until we have a chance to be alone, I thought. I avoided Sonea's eyes one last time and bitterly spoke in the former High Lord's direction. "What are you doing here?" I demanded. However it was Sonea who answered. "I... we... I don't know where to start, Dorrien." The genuineness in her voice was piercing me, but I stiffened as that man spoke. "We are here to warn you." The calmness in his low voice irritated me. "The Ichani plan to enter Kyralia in a few days." With every word he said, I assessed the man. I had never really paid to much attention to him before. He had treated my father well, and that was as far as I had been interested. Was. What I wouldn't have given to have known him better, so I could have warned Sonea about his nature. But what was done was done now. I struggled to find my voice. It came out hostile and low. "You are exiles. You cannot return to this land." If she had fallen so willingly into the man's trap and refused to see reason, so be it. She didn't want to be saved. My plan was out of the question, and I felt foolish for going to such heights to think of it. He wouldn't leave her, and she wouldn't leave him. My heart had stopped burning now. Instead, it felt caked with ice. They had better have a good excuse for coming back.