Disclaimer: I don't own Path of Radiance, Radiant Dawn, etc.
When Sothe busted down the door of Micaiah's bedroom, his normally calm demeanor slipping, he did not expect the sight that greeted him.
Micaiah struggled on the floor of their shared bedroom, a large gaping hole in her side (caused by a sharp set of teeth, Sothe noted, not unlike an animal's). Her fingers were clutching her chest as she opened her mouth over and over again in an attempt to scream.
In an instant, Sothe was at her side, holding her hands (oh, how cold they were) with a tender care reserved specifically for her. Sothe's heart thumped in his chest (calm down, be cool, she'd be okay, she'd be just fine) so loud he was sure Micaiah could hear it. A yell for help was torn from his mouth, all rational thought gone (and he didn't care how desperate he sounded), because he'd lose her soon if they didn't hurry up already. His hands were trembling (but it didn't matter) because (oh, Ashera) she was losing so much blood, and her skin had never looked so pale.
Even in her pain, Micaiah saw Sothe and her mouth twitched upwards in a smile, her fingers curling slightly to hold Sothe's. She was no longer trying to scream, but her mouth still moved, forming words. Sothe leaned closer, and he could hear her struggling to say: "Don't worry, Sothe. I'll be fine."
He could see the tears rolling down her cheeks–from the pain? because she didn't want to leave him yet?–trailing down her cheeks, and it wasn't until several drops landed on their joined hands did he notice that he was also crying.
By now, several of the guards had come running and were standing in the doorway, looking on in shock. What are you guys waiting for? Sothe thought, frustrated, in the deep recesses of his mind. He spared a second to shoot them an irritated glance, and they seemed to have gotten the message because they immediately spurred into action.
Once again, Micaiah and Sothe were alone. Her brilliant eyes were slipping closed (he was getting closer to losing her with each second), a sad little smile on her lips. And then just before her eyes completely shut, she whispered (this time with a resigned undertone): "I'm sorry, Sothe."
As Sothe picked up Micaiah's limp body (why oh why did she have to say that, she wouldn't die, he'd never forgive himself if she did), he yelled for a healer, priest–anyone who could save Micaiah. The tears were still rolling down his face, and an ache near the left side of his chest persisted, but all he could focus on was Micaiah and saving her.
Several hours later, Sothe was pacing outside a particular room, running his fingers through emerald green hair agitatedly. Micaiah was inside, being cared for by several of Daein's most talented Saints. Whispering under his breath, Sothe repeated "she's going to be okay" over and over again. (Pale unhealthy skin, tarnished by the crimson blood flowing from her wound. The fading light in Micaiah's beautiful eyes as she slowly began to d–
"It's going to okay," Sothe insisted. "She'll be fine."
The door behind him creeped open; Sothe's eyes immediately snapped to the meek-looking Bishop standing in the doorway. (Lying on the table, Micaiah appeared to be asleep when in the harsh, harsh reality she was dead, and she'd never be alive again.) When the Bishop squeaked uncertainly, Sothe shook himself from the gloomy thoughts invading his mind. Allowing himself to be consumed by his thoughts (especially such depressing ones) would interfere with decision-making (and there would be decision-making soon to come, like who was the mysterious perpetrator of this incident?), and that would cost him dearly.
"She's not in critical condition anymore, sir," the Bishop said, gaining confidence as he spoke. "You're allowed to see her, but the Queen is still fragile at the moment, so we plead you to not stress her out."
Before he had even finished speaking, Sothe had pushed past the robed man and hurried to Micaiah's side. The Saints, Bishops, and Priests quietly exited the room, leaving the two to share a private moment. The moment he saw Micaiah's still form and closed eyes, the lingering vestiges of his fear confined him in their cold grasp. (She was dead, and what had he done to help? Nothing, he was useless from the start and was still useless now.) Then, Micaiah smiled weakly at him and her warm hand held his, snapping him out of his daze.
"You're alive," he breathed in relief.
"I am."
With those two words, the buildup of stress, irritation, anxiety, and annoyance over the past few hours instantly melted away. The pain in his chest was gone, shoved to the side by the flood of warmth spreading throughout his body. Sothe hugged Micaiah, careful to not jostle her, and she hugged back.
"Don't worry, Sothe. I'll be fine." (Lips as pale as her deathly white skin, though stained with her blood, whispered comforting words for Sothe.)
He held her tighter, burying his face in her silver hair. Sothe enjoyed the pleasant feeling in his heart as he embraced his "sister". Her gentle smile and gestures soothed him, reassured him (that, no, she wasn't lying on her deathbed, smelling of peaches, and he wasn't hallucinating), and Sothe vowed whoever had hurt her would pay full price plus interest for laying a hand on Micaiah.
A/N: Okay, so I took down Retribution recently because 1) I didn't like the way it was going, 2) truth be told, I had no idea who the main character was, and 3) I wanted to completely change it. I've been on-and-off thinking about the idea for a while (and at first I wanted to do this from Tibarn or Naesala's POV), so I have finally sat myself down (after a few miserable weeks of sickness) to write this. As a side note, if you read what little of Retribution there was, you'll notice a change in style of writing (at least I think there is). I know the parentheses and stuff are really distracting; I just felt inserting them would make his desperation...clearer. And this is still Serpentine, who is a lazy procrastinator that should work harder. If you're reading this, now you know who to direct your praises/constructive-criticism/insults at.