Title: Regret
Words: 1859
Characters/Pairing: One sided Kurda Shmalt/Darren Shan.
Summary: Kurda had never felt such intense love before. He would have liked to see it grow; flourish. He could have been happy. He has never felt such intense pain before, either. Darren Shan made him feel both. More than that, Darren Shan had made the blonde Prince to be regret.
Warnings: One sided slash, spoilers for up to book 5, 6-ish, Kurdas P.O.V of what happens at the end of book 5 – his thoughts in the moments when Darren goes over the edge of the river in the Hall of the Final Voyage.
It wasn't supposed to happen this way. I always knew that there would be death involved, was acutely, terribly aware of the death that would be involved. Innocent vampires fighting to protect Vampire Mountain, the Vampaneze who were as scared of the Vampaneze lord as everyone else, and myself. But I was prepared to die, prepared to sacrifice the few for the many. Gavner Purl was unfortunate but, in the circumstances, necessary.
Darren Shan, however, was not supposed to die.
The first time I saw him, hiding from a crowd of Vampires in a storeroom, he was so filled with life. Happy, if not with life itself, than with just the company he kept. A wonderful half vampire who would be incredibly stunning when he came of age. A wish I had after I saw him, spoke to the curious creature, was to be there when he matured. To be able to watch as he blossomed into the man he was destined to become.
I knew, though, as soon as I thought it, that it would never happen. I would die, either by the hands of my Clan or my Vampaneze allies.
I am a traitor, no matter my reasons, and deserve the death that will find me in the end.
Still, every time I saw the Halfling, I felt myself be drawn closer and closer to him. Seeing him up on the bars with Arra Sails made my heart stop – stutter every time the brutal woman went for a strike. And when he fell; mere words cannot express my horror. I knew that Larten, Gavner and Vanez would be proud of him though.
Peace mongers were few and far between in the Clan.
Every task that he was subjected to, I could not even bare to think about it. The torment that my own mind put me through was incredible. I knew that it was dangerous to become so enraptured with such a young Halfling, especially with what I had to do, but I could not help it. I think I fell harder than Darren did, coming down from the bars. When he failed the fourth task, I could not even bare to think of his death – so I did everything in my power to stop it.
And it almost worked. I never truly feared for Darrens life until one moment. Through the tasks, Darren losing the fourth trial, persuading Darren to come with me, Gavner Purl finding us I was sure that I could find a way to save him, my Darren. He would not like to know I call him that, not now. Even when they discovered the Vampaneze, I was not truly we had to do was pass, quickly and quietly – no harm done.
As soon as Glalda pointed out Darren, my Darren, standing behind us, hidden by the ever present shadows of the tunnels, I felt fear grip me. I hoped that there was a way for everything to right itself, that the gods of the Vampires would see what I was doing everything – why! – and have mercy, if not for my sake, if not for my heart, then for Darren. Darren who was so young, so lively, so wonderful.
But still, I pushed the fear away; on our way through the tunnels, my mantra had become Darren will be fine.
Chasing after him, I chanted in my head, maybe I even whispered it to myself as I ran through the tunnels, taking every short cut I knew to possible head Darren off. I knew that, although he might have wanted to, he wouldn't change routes. He was too smart to do that; the chances of being lost forever in the tunnels was high. I had to hope that he was being smart, because I refused to even fathom the idea of Darren wandering the tunnels alone, scared, betrayed.
Of him dying, slowly starving. Would I walk down a tunnel and find his bones one day?
Finally I reached the Hall of the Final Voyage. Darren was already in the water, clinging to a rock with all he had. He looked so resolute and so frightened. I knew that it was the Vampaneze way, the way they stood there impassively, but I could not fathom it. I wanted to grab Darren, to wrap him in my arms and never let him go.
On my knees in the water, reaching out for Darren, I was gripped by a fear so intense. I had never felt anything like it before – no matter the battles I've been in, the things I've done, will do and be in. I hope I'll never feel it again. Arguing with Glalda to save Darren, I could feel to time slipping away. Darren couldn't hold on forever. I refused to think wouldn't.
Centimetres away from him, dangling over the edge, hands the only thing keeping me from death, I could see his hate. Everything on his mind, all his feelings, were written plainly on his face. The hatred killed me, but I would not be deterred. Darren could hate me, despise me, and I would still save him. I would always save him.
He was my Darren.
I grabbed for his wrists, and could not contain my gasp when he pulled away. I thought he was going to fall. I don't think he heard. My concern would confuse him more, his feelings of complete and utter betrayal would muddle further. I was his friend – how could I do this to him. I could see it, and hear it as he shouted at me.
His words cut deeply. Had any one asked, the tears in my eyes were merely an effect of the raging river. I tried to convince him, tried so hard, but he would not listen, he would not accept my help or my hands.
And then Darren let go. He pushed himself back with such force, that my wild swing for him missed. I screamed for him, my pleading shriek not stopping the current. The tips of my fingers brushed against his shirt, but before I could get a grip he was out of reach.
He smiled at me, a bitter, hollow smile. I never wanted to see such a thing again. And I wouldn't. He made the death's touch sign, and I could see the anger and resentment in his eyes, through his splayed hand. He howled at me; I will always remember those last words. Spoken with anger, hatred, hurt and not the slightest tinge of fear. I saw fear as he was swept away by the current though, the slight widening of his beautiful eyes as the current took him.
He disappeared then, and I was alone. Hanging there, watching the space where he had disappeared, I had never felt more... shattered. I could feel the vampaneze pulling me back up, and I did nothing to help and hinder them. I wish that I had thrown myself after him, ripping my ankles from the strong grips of my allies, and following my Darren. I would have caught up with him, my heavier mass travelling faster, and I would have held him like I've always wanted to.
My body would have been his shield, protecting him from the worst of the bends and curves. I would have gladly broken, shattered, my bones to protect his. But it was not meant to be. I felt completely destroyed, standing in the shallow part of the stream as Glalda talked to me about something. That's the only word I can think of to describe how I feel, the mixing of sheer, complete pain and soon to be all encompassing numbness. Darren, precious Darren, my Darren, would never grow to be the man I knew he would have been. He would never find a mate; I would never be his mate.
If circumstances were different – oh if only they were different – I would like to think that I could have won him. I would have been happy.
We would have been happy, Darren and I. I would have taken care of him, loved him with all I had. I would have gladly waged wars for him – smashing skulls and slashing open my opponents. If he had asked, I would have done anything.
Now Darren was dead and I am broken.
But I will go on, I will continue with my mission. I will save the Clan from destruction, save their lives. I will give my own life as willingly as I took Gavners. As willingly as Darren gave his. Sick as it sounds, I would have rather Darren died in some horribly violent way, his blood coating my hands as I held him. I could never have moved past that, but I could have made peace with it. I could have told him my feelings, then. I never got the chance.
And all I can see now is Darren pushing off the rock, his already injured body being sucked down into the hideous, unforgiving bowls of the mountain.
And all I can think about is how I know he hated me in his last moments.
Cursing me with his last breath.
I know that whenever anyone speaks those words, those horrible words that still ring in my head, I will think of Darren and what could have been, what was destroyed. Even the death's touch will force my mind back to the way his hand wavered, in the last second before he disappeared.
Glalda was taking me away, being surprisingly gentle as he led me away so we could stash Gavners body. I wondered why – he was not a gentle, caring man. It took me a while to realise that I was crying, my tears staining my face. It's probably obvious, my feelings for Darren. I wanted to hope that he was still alive, that the gods of the Vampries had spared him, but I knew that it wasn't meant to be. It would be better for him, any way, if he was not around to witness what came next.
Besides, my gods were not in a merciful mood. Had I not begged them before? Pleaded for Darren to be safe?
Maybe it was some sick form of penance – the gods punishing me for the betrayal of my Clan, even though I was trying to help.
It was not until later that night, alone with my sorrow, that I admitted to myself that the price was too high.
If only I had know what would happen to Darren, I would have done everything another way. I do not regret much in my life. I do everything with complete and utter conviction. I will stand by my views and beliefs through hell or high water. No one has ever swayed me from my chosen path.
The loss of Darren, however, has at once hardened me to the cause – how can I give up when it has cost me so much? It will have all been in vain – and made me sick to my stomach. I have never come so close to giving up as in that moment.
And then I knew regret.