Venus
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A silver lighter. It was painstakingly embossed with a vine-and-leaf design on the thick sides, and a creeping ivy pattern on the thin. It was small enough to fit comfortably in even a small hand, but large enough to produce a decent dancing flame of red and blue.
Belleza held the lighter tightly. It had been a gift from Admiral Galcian on their first meeting. He had withdrawn it from his pocket and presented it to her carefully, withdrawn from an ivory handkerchief, as if it were a glass diamond that would shatter with the slightest rough motion. He had presented it gallantly, without a hint of pretense or condescension, with a firm, ambitious smile and a manner that made Belleza feel precisely his equal.
"To our lasting partnership," he had said, and the words—and the sound of his voice—had lived within her since that time. "To our lasting success as admirals, and for the glory of Valua."
Belleza looked at the lighter, examining it from all sides. It was, as he was, perfect in every way. There was not a scratch or a scuff on its exterior, not a mark or a stray line on any portion of its embellishment. Since that day Belleza had kept it, wrapped in a kerchief of her own, by her side at every moment, even keeping watch while she slept. It was as perfect as it was the day he had given it to her.
The skies were blue, nearly cloudless, and the weather was ideal. The only precipitation, the giant steel clouds trundling in rows through the air, raining cannon fire and roaring thunderbolts from their torpedo chutes. In the middle, anchoring them all firmly in the same sky, the ferocious black thundercloud almost completely stationary, the crux of the Valuan fleet, obstinate and unyielding. Belleza looked up, across the battlefield, at the bridge of the floating fortress Hydra and where it stood among the two fleets—one consisting of the Empire's best airships, one a ragtag assembly of rebels taking arms against giants. Her eyes lazily scanned the horizon. Her mind wandered as it never, ever did during a battle. Aboard the Lynx, she was unready to fight anything.
I love you. I love the gift you gave me, even though I've never smoked.
Belleza flicked open the top of the lighter and started the flame. While the flame existed it danced, waving around merrily and passionately, and it ceased to be when Belleza stopped it, closing the lid on the lighter and squeezing.
Father, mother. For a moment, I could almost see you inside it.
Belleza closed her eyes, and tears slid down into her smile. She licked away the water from her lips and opened her eyes. There was never time for sentiment like this in the sky. Sentiment was a thing that died when the first cannon was fired and was reborn after the last surrender was sung. In Belleza's case, it was something that was never reborn—it was there, but always dormant, and betrayed only by a foxy smile on luscious red lips.
Oh, Vyse, handsome. Treat your women well, no matter how completely frustrating it might seem at times. Your kindness will be rewarded, I assure you. There aren't many who could say they have two cute sweethearts around them. There are a lot of people out there fighting for you, and a lot of people who care. Some maybe more than you think.
Belleza flicked open the lid of the lighter again absentmindedly. The gentle, familiar whirr of her ship, a sister, rang vacantly in her ears like the music of ghosts, and she started the flame again. It was a beautiful, beautiful thing, fire, and yet so dangerous—something seemingly so tame and so controlled, yet it burned houses, towns, even worlds, given time to consume. But without the danger, without the grand scale of growth and consumption it birthed and nurtured, fire was simply a beautiful gift, passionate and purposeful without a trace of imperfection. That was why it was so lovely, so infatuating. Belleza closed the lighter, sighed, and it fell from her hand, clanking against the floor and rattling. A moment later the ship lurched slightly and the lighter slid across the floor and away.
"To our lasting partnership."
Valua had treated her well. It may not have been the greatest place, Belleza thought, but it was home. She had seen people live there, people die there, and some people stay perpetually in-between. She had known personally people who had chipped teeth on blackened bread, and ones who steadily grew plump on diets of cake and scones. She had dreams of a better Valua, dreams of a proud nation of integrity and equality, dreams she abandoned when she stepped onto the bridge of an airship. She had dreams that she and Admiral Galcian would see eye-to-eye about her homeland's future. She had imagined that one day they would stand on a great mountain overlooking eternity with the specter of conflict behind them, and he would tell her of his respect for her as an admiral and as a person. But it was much like the sky and the earth embracing, never to be. At a point their ideologies diverged, and any respect, any adulation, any lighters given were only requests to shape her to his reason and cement her to his cause. At his best, he was the glorious, shimmering flame, and to him, Belleza understood, she was only the wind.
The rest of the Lynx's crew had evacuated, many of them perplexed as to why they would be ordered to abandon a perfectly stable ship. After quiet threats of discharge from the Armada, the rest of the crew had left, leaving Belleza alone at the bridge. She folded her arms. For some reason, the empty blue she watched while silently waiting reminded her of everything she had ever done in her life.
From the Hydra there was the sight of a metal craft, the bridge of the ship, lifting off into the air, bursting into the sky, fleeing without any semblance of hesitation. There was a quick jolt through Belleza's ship as she directed its nose towards the small craft and began to move.
The Lynx drew effortlessly across the sky, chasing the lion as he turned tail and ran. This wasn't the time to settle old scores or rekindle old friendships. This wasn't the time to be playing games with lives as though they were sitting on a wooden board with little wooden people waiting to be tinkered with. This wasn't the time to wonder. This was the time when what had to be done got done. There was never any other way it could end, only like this, with the escape craft too slow to escape through the skies, and the Lynx drifting downward at the perfect angle for a metal embrace. It was like poetry.
I guess this is goodbye. I can't pretend you never knew how I felt. Of course you do. If you wonder why I'm doing this…I love you. That's why.
Belleza smiled, because she was happy.
"Goodbye, my love."