Wings of Despair
A ToS story by Mylinda Antoinette
Summary: One month after Anna's death, Kratos struggles to cope with it...
Author's Note: I don't even know what possessed me to write this… I just sat down and started writing the other day and this was the result. I'm actually kind of proud of it, and I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Oh, and the amazing part... the story itself is exactly 1000 words... o.o...
Disclaimer: I own nothing; if I owned anything, the dang ToS anime would be finished already…
He knew it from the moment he set eyes on her.
Sure, it had only been a vague idea at the time, but that didn't matter anymore, as he tried to console himself by saying that he'd known it all along.
Loving her was the worst mistake of his life.
Still… why didn't he regret it as he should have? After all of the nights spent weeping for her, pain at her loss disrupting his sleep, he should regret having met her, deep down in the darkest reaches of his heart.
But while he might have screamed those words as the first pain of losing her gripped his heart, he knew the words were hollow, devoid of meaning. He loved her with every fiber of his being. How could he ever regret loving someone that much?
A fluttering of wings sounded to his side, stopping right next to where he sat, brooding. No doubt his friend had returned to offer some more of his empty condolences, to make a vain attempt at comforting him.
The truth was that nothing made him feel better. He'd done everything he could think of to try and forget, first throwing himself back into his work so he would stay busy. He'd surrounded himself with her things, hoping that the sense of having her there would stem the tide of sadness. He had even begun to sleep despite the fact that he didn't need to, hoping that there he would find some respite from the haunting memories of her death.
But no; even in sleep, he found no safe haven. Those last few minutes of her life kept replaying over and over in his dreams, tormenting him to the point where he awoke screaming, a cold sweat dripping from every trembling pore.
And now, even his best friend could do nothing to soothe his aching heart. He longed to once again feel her touch, to see her standing in front of him. He didn't want his friend's condolences today; before his friend could even open his mouth, he was off, gliding swiftly through the air on wings of blue mana.
The air rushing past him pushed his hair out of his face, calming him in a way he hadn't felt since before she died. As he rushed through the corridors on Derris-Kharlan, nearly knocking over several angels in the process, he reveled in the simple pleasure of flight. But even this pleasure was soon overcome by the sorrowful thoughts that weighed upon his mind, and after a while he crashed to the floor in an unused corridor. He dragged his trembling form across the slick floor to an alcove where an inactive door stood, sobs wracking his body, echoing painfully through the empty hallway. He pulled himself to his knees and sat, crouched over in his alcove, tears spilling from his eyes and breaking open as they hit the floor.
He sat like that for what felt like hours, feeling his heart breaking afresh as each minute passed by. The agony of losing the woman he loved had finally caught up to him, and for the first time, he found himself allowing his emotions to overwhelm him, not caring whether he was caught like this.
After a while, he heard that same fluttering of wings behind him and saw a flash of blue hair out of the corner of his eye, but this time he was too lost in his grief to run away. His friend's hand rested lightly on his shoulder, offering him strength. After a long time, he began to calm down, and when he had at last run out of tears, his friend melted back into the shadows from where he had appeared, allowing him a measure of privacy.
He simply sat, not wanting to get up, and in many ways not caring whether he lived or died. He reached up and removed a gold locket from around his neck, cradling it in his hand as though it were the most precious thing he owned, and no doubt it was. His fingers ran the length of the crack in the side, caressing it gently, before using his finger to disengage the mechanism that held the locket closed. The locket swung open, and he gazed longingly at the picture inside: him and his wife with their little boy. His attentions focused on the young boy in the picture. Their son. He'd lost not only his wife, but his son as well.
But unlike his wife, he didn't know whether his son was dead or still living. "I will find you," he murmured, his voice quiet but firm. "I swear it… I will find you." He stood, closing the locket as he gripped it tightly in his hand, conviction permeating every cell in his body. His wife might have been taken from him, but his son might still be alive. And he would do everything in his power to find him. His son was all he had left of her, of the woman he loved. He would not allow the only other person he truly cared for to be ripped from him. Even if his child no longer lived, he had to know.
He returned silently to his quarters, tired from his emotional outburst. As he removed his boots, all his thoughts were focused on how best to fulfill his plans. He pulled back the covers to his bed and settled down under them. Before falling asleep though, he propped the open locket up on his bedside table. He would keep it there to always remind him that though she was gone, he still had something to live for.
That night, as he drifted through the land of sleep, a young boy was with him. All his thoughts were focused on his young companion, and as they walked together hand in hand, he thought he heard his wife's gentle laugh echoing through the sky.
For the first time in months, he dreamed in peace.
I may make a story about this later, but right now I have other projects to focus on. Still, look out for it! In fact, if you want to read the story, put this on story alert. I'll update this with information in the next chapter.
Leave a review on your way out!