A Feigned Existence
White... why? Why is it still white? And slow... Th... damned elf... can't even tele...port...The thoughts came to him in a slur as the world spun around him. Time seemed to slow, to drag out and then do a lazy, twisting spin; making the stones beneath his feet feel as if they buckled. He fell to one knee in the snow, having to squeeze his eye shut for a moment before the world righted itself in his mind. His eye opened to doubled and blurred vision, but by now he was aware of his own disorientation. He gazed upon a long bridge, obsidian stones paved the way to Darkhold... To home. The moment was filled with haze. It seemed a peaceful moment as he took the imposing, yet majestic in its own way, image of the grand fortress before him. Suddenly, his lone eye widened, he seemed to snap out of a pleasant dream. Reality inserted itself, and he looked down, the emerald gaze fixing on the motionless woman in his arms.
Wren...
He shifted his burden, so that an obsidian gauntlet could reach up and brush a few loose strands of silvery hair from the woman's face, tucking them behind her ears just as he’d always done, with barely a thought. This time, the last time. With a shuddering breath and a resolute, refusing shake of his head, he steeled himself, and rose to his feet. His stride brimmed with determination as he moved across the bridge leading into the courtyard of the fortress. The guards upon the walls stared down in silence.
Maximillian's thoughts rushed as he approached the gates of the main building. The silent hallways were silent no more, high ceiling echoed the sounds of his stomping sollerets.
***
He had sat in that damned chair for several days now, sleep overtaking him once... or was it twice? Three times? He was not sure anymore. Beside him, on a bedside table sat a pitcher of water- as carefully as he could, throughout the days, he'd tried to squeeze drops from a sponge past parted lips- a small thing, anything, to keep from feeling so damned helpless. Even through all of that, through his fitful sleep, and the lonely hours in between, his lone eye remained fixed on the deathly still silver haired woman on the bed, her hand firmly in his grasp. Solitude. Solitude and thoughts were all he was left with.Wren... Wren... Wren... I keep repeating your name, in hopes to see those sapphires once more. I keep holding your hand, hoping my touch and my warmth will reach you.
Our future was there, within our grasp, and then, in a flash, it was taken away. You were taken away from me. I can not hear your laugh, I can not see your smile... Silence... The absence of your bells fills my world with dreadful silence. I do not want to live in silence, my love. I do not want to go back to what I was before I met you. A husk, filled with nothing but zeal.
I want to hold you, yet the venom coursing through your veins would be the end of me... I want to lash out in rage, yet that would do nothing but sully your memory... You taught me better. I want to weep, yet tears will not bring you back. Without you I am left with nothing. I retreat back into my husk, and I am nothing.
Before that empty abyss envelops me once more, I will set things right. I will honor your way. Justice is no longer a word I use with ease; but so help me, gods below and above, justice will be done. Sweet, poetic justice. Just like your lord would see fit. Just like you would see fit.
He passed into a fitful, exhausted doze, losing consciousness once more. When he awoke he summoned a servant to their quarters.
"Bring me the Captain, she has work to do."