"His Winter Heart"

Rated: G

Spoilers: Books 1-7

Characters: It's a mystery.

Warnings: Implied character death. Angst. Wordiness.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. It's only borrowing genius, in the end.


Night fell on the sleepy village gently, the smoke from the chimneys rising like ghosts in a strange dance. All was quiet. A lone figure trod the streets, clad in black to blend with the lengthening shadows. His stride spoke of purpose and gave no hint that he was dying.

Only the boy's face was left uncovered and shone pale in the darkness, the streetlamps lending life to empty eyes.

The bells of the church across the square began to toll, shattering the peacefulness. The boy did not notice. He kept walking past the picturesque cottages, ignoring each until he came to the one he was looking for. At the gate he stopped. Lights filtered through several of the windows on the ground floor of the little house. Home, he thought, the word filling him with a powerful ache.

He trembled as the sound of laughter from within the house drifted out to him over the frosty ground. Having been a slave to fear for so long, he could not remember what it felt like to laugh. He could not remember what it felt like to be free. The only thing he remembered, the only thing he knew, was pain. Tears glistened on his cheeks, but he did not wipe them away. They reminded him he was still alive, that he could still make a difference.

Watching silently as the three occupants of the house entered the sitting room, the boy almost smiled. Even in the face of terror, of an invincible evil, they still found joy in one another. The young couple and their guest were like a family, and family meant everything. Family meant loyalty and safety. Family was more important than anything, or so he had once believed.

That was, until family meant choosing sides in a war that would destroy them all.

So much had changed that he felt as though the preceding year was all a dream, like a terrible nightmare that kept repeating whenever he closed his eyes. Always second-best, second-choice and compared to the one who came before. When finally given the chance to prove himself, he believed the lies they fed him, sugar-coated with promises of power and glory. Family meant doing as he was told, as he was expected. If that meant selling his soul, so be it.

And so it was, and so he lost everything that mattered, down to the smallest bit of himself.

The truth, they say, will out, and in the end the veil was torn away and the sun returned to warm his winter heart too late. But there was still time. Time to make amends and time to heal old wounds. Time to be a hero.

Standing at the gate with only one task remaining before he could rest, the boy finally caught a glimpse of the person he had come to see. How he wished the smile he saw would turn his way, one last time, that the light from it would give him the strength to do what he had to with dignity, and that its warmth would welcome him home.

At last, gray eyes met his own and widened in surprise. As the front door was thrown open and light spilled out over the lawn, the boy turned on the spot and vanished. Only one creature heard the words that followed. Only one creature wept as hours and hundreds of miles away, the body of its master was dragged beneath the surface of a dark lake.