I'm writing oneshots again! It's been a while, but I (once again) suddenly felt like writing something. This is, in my humble opinion, not one of my best works, but what the heck. I think I got the feeling of sadness across a little bit like I wanted. This takes place about a month after Jon's coronation in Lioness Rampant, when Alanna is in the desert (at least I think she was in the desert by then. Let's say she was.) and mourning the death of all those who are gone.
Oh, and this hasn't been betaed, so there's probably a million mistakes in it.
Disclaimer: Tamora Pierce owns it all. I know that, you know that. Cheers.
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Liam is dead.
He has been dead for more than a month, and I still refuse to believe it. As I'm sitting in my little tent in the desert, hearing the sounds of my tribe around me, those familiar, calming sounds, I wait for Liam come sauntering in.
If I close my eyes I can see his face before me, with the red hair and those ever-changing eyes. I saw his eyes after he died, even though Jon tried to stop me from coming too close. He had been dead a while when I reached him, and there was no trace of life left in him, except from that glimmer of clear emerald green. I had never seen that color in his eyes before, and yet I was certain of its meaning.That was the color of Liam's loyalty and his goodness. They say eyes are mirrors of the soul, and that was Liam's.
I remember his hands on mine. On my face, my hips, my belly. I remember them slow and caressing, when we made love, and harsh and demanding when he taught me Shang fighting. How he despaired that I could never get my left side kicks right, and hated my magic and my nobility. How he was still drawn to me, and my... strangeness. How we were so different and so alike.
Liam is dead.
He once told me it was worth dying for a cause. I wonder if he would have thought this a worthy thing to die for. He is dead. What purpose was his death? How is to say Jon wouldn't have lived even if he hadn't been so stupid as to get himself killed trying to save him?!
I know I'm lying to myself. Without Liam, Jon would be dead and all of Tortall would be in Roger's hands. Yet I can't help to wonder at how unfair it all is. How many I have to grieve for. I can't even think of my brother, so it helps mourning for Liam, because I can't bear to think of Thom. Not yet.
But it's so hard, when I keep waiting for Liam to walk into my tent. For all of those who are dead to be with me one more time.
And it's so hard when I know they're never coming back.
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