Because I've turned angsty.
Red.
That was one of the last things he imprinted in his mind before he left.
Her fiery red hair, almost a shade of magenta, soft yet coarse, like sweet-smelling hay. He remembered burying his face in her head as she pressed her own to his chest.
"Why do you have to go?" Liz hardly ever displayed fear, but he heard the tiniest of wavers in her voice. "When will you come back?"
"I will come back," he answered, dodging her question with a will to return to the village of Danafor hopefully unharmed, back into the arms of his beloved for their wedding. He wrapped his arms around her and closed his eyes.
"Don't go," she spoke meekly, her hands clutching his back. "I'll miss you."
"I love you," he said, and dislodged himself from her grasp. She waved goodbye sadly.
He smiled waveringly, and leapt onto his horse and rode away, the memory of her rose colored hair still lodged in his mind.
.
The war was long.
In his mind he was already back in the village embracing Liz with the tightest of bear hugs and the nuzzling of noses that there was peace finally to ensure. But the war was long.
It was horrible.
Every day he had to deal with the sight of bloodied bodies and dispatched limbs. Only the thought of her kept him from gagging. Every night seated around in his tent were his fellow soldiers who questioned his eagerness. What they didn't understand was that his eagerness was for home, not war.
"Why do you look so happy all the time?"
"Aren't you having trouble sleeping knowing that we're up against another horde of those barbarians?"
He replied cheerfully, a smile on his face saying that he liked sleeping.
"I get to dream of the woman I love when I do."
How pitiful it must be when he realized he would dream of her forever.
.
It was when one of his comrades fell on his face before him.
He bent down quickly, momentarily forgetting that he was supposed to shoot the enemy. "Wake up, wake up? You're alright, okay?"
The soldier didn't wake up.
He looked up. An enemy was approaching swiftly.
He whipped out his sword and the clash of blades rolled through the air like ominous thunder. Deflecting his attacks and defending on his side, he was just about to go for the lunge when he felt a searing, white-hot pain in his eyes.
The world fell at his feet.
.
When he woke up, he saw nothing.
It was dark, and very lonely.
The voices drifted into his ears, only he wasn't paying attention to any droning except the diagnosis.
He'd been stabbed in both the eyes and gone blind.
The doctor beside him told him that he would have to endure treatment from a high-classed witchdoctor if he wanted to get well. He asked after how he ended up here, in a soft bed with a creaking fan above him, ready to fall just like his spirits.
It was a miracle he was still alive. After collapsing on the battlefield beside his comrade's corpse the enemy resumed fighting, thinking that he was dead. Only when the medic came to retrieve the bodies did they discover he was, in fact still breathing,
There was a bandage wrapped around the whole of his head that shielded his eyes from the world. His condition shielded the world from his eyes. The irony was unbearable.
The doctors began to help him walk. He learned that some of his friends were there, alive, and they came to visit him despite their broken bones and battered bodies. He couldn't see them, but he recognized their voices, and immediately it brought back their faces, their character; it soothed him to remember these.
Soon he could recognize footsteps. Being bored of his illness he had taken a new liking to listening. Some footsteps were light and leisurely, while some were heavy-footed and strong. He wondered how Liz's footsteps sounded like.
He wondered about her.
He wondered whether she would be the same as she was when he left. He had nothing to fear, he told himself, because she had pledged himself directly to him and him to her. There was nothing to be afraid of.
The only problem was the coping with separation. When the night came and the stars set in, burning blazes into his empty sockets they reminded him of her stark blue eyes glinting in the morning sun. He would dream of her constantly, forever.
But he longed to meet her once again. Even though he couldn't see her, he knew that she would still love him just as he was. He couldn't doubt her in this time of crisis. He had no choice whatsoever.
Soon he could walk around the tiny hospital by himself without bumping into anything, and he could greet people before they even entered his ward. At least that was an improvement to his life, but his heart really just yearned for a wish to go home.
.
Two years passed.
Someone still had to help him shave. He'd cut himself if he tried to do it.
Today he decided to go without it. The person who was in charge of that left a sick note, and as he didn't want anyone to be bothered by him and whatnot, he skipped that in his daily routine and went for breakfast.
The little hospital was always homey. There were no nice smells about it and from the eyes of the others who still had theirs the walls were horribly drab, but he had learnt to call this place home. A second home, more like; he hadn't forgotten Danafor… and of course Liz.
Every morning he'd greet her in his daydream that only lasted a minute. Every morning he woke with a sense of foreboding that someone was coming for him. And on that very morning that feeling was stronger than ever.
He was late for breakfast and the dining room was empty with silence. He reached for his regular cup, filled it with coffee and sat down. He stuck his hand out to the side of the cup and recoiled.
He could feel its warmth. He smiled. At least he could sense something to remind him that he was alive.
The door opened. He recognized the footsteps to be the sound of the kind attendant at the counter where new soldiers were registered and admitted. "Meliodas?" She spoke meekly, wondering if he could hear her. He gave a curt nod in no particular direction. There was a tap, tap, tapping, and he could feel her hand on his shoulder in an instant. He reckoned that she must be standing in front of him.
"Meliodas, someone's come to see you."
.
He got her to help him shave.
He didn't know who this person was, whoever who had come to see him, but his instincts suggested a name. His heart lifted; his spirits soared. And when the nurse drew aside the curtains to let the sunshine pour in, he basked in its warmth.
"Um, I'll let her in now." His heart pounded harder than ever.
The door opened; there was an exchange of footsteps and an unfamiliar pair of feet landed on unfamiliar turf. He could not recognize and confirm if the footsteps were really hers, but it wouldn't hurt to ask.
"Liz…" The white bandages around his eyes could be well stained with tears if they were actually there. "Is that really… you?"
A calm silence sounded throughout the room. Then a voice echoed through his mind.
"Hello, Meliodas."
He jumped and knocked over a cup, sending it crashing to the ground. There was a flurry of pattering; rushing to clear the mess, but instead warm arms wrapped themselves around him slowly, almost hesitantly. Clasping at her in his own arms, he choked back a sob.
"You don't know how much I've missed you, Liz…"
"It's alright now," In her beautiful melodic sweet voice was the trace of a sniffle. "I'm here."
.
He'd never loved her voice more than he loved her before.
As she led him down and out of the hospital, and helped him up onto her horse, he couldn't help but listen to her every instruction. The sound of her so close, so nearby, was surreal. It wasn't possible.
But it was. Liz told him that she'd come to take him back, but when he asked about Danafor she either remained silent or told him to rest. It almost seemed as if a piece of her was not right, or missing.
The war had been won two years ago, said Liz, and I was wondering what happened to you. So I came to search for you.
He'd dropped a kiss on her shoulder as he sat behind her on her galloping horse; the kiss held so much gratitude and love in it that none of them had to say anything to deny it.
They stopped by an inn to stay for the night. Liz said little throughout the entire journey, staying focused on the way back to Danafor. They still had separate beds, even though they were a couple, but Liz had still refused to sleep in the same bed with him even before he went off for war.
"Only until after we're married," she'd said.
Tonight, without her warmth next to him, he felt cold, but reassured. They'd still be married after all.
The bathroom door opened and as far as he could tell Liz had returned to the room. One of the perks, he had said, about being blind is that I won't get to see you naked. He could feel her blushing.
She was walking, walking, then to his surprise his bed sank down with her weight and his. Before he could react she'd placed a hand on his face.
"Meliodas…" He relished in this short-lived comfort. "There's been a new witch doctor in our village."
"Oh?" Out of all the villages in Britannia Danafor was the only village without a witchdoctor. People used to say it brought bad luck to the village. "And what's that to do with me?"
"She can heal you, Meliodas," Liz said a little too quickly, as if she wanted to get the words out of her as soon as possible. He sat up.
"You don't say…?" Her hand trailed down to his shoulder. He hugged her.
He hugged her like he never wanted to let her go.
.
He had dozed off just a little when her voice jostled him awake. "We're… home."
He couldn't see anything, but he could smell and feel. The wind caressed his cheeks, the sound of birds chirping filled his ears and the scent of freshly baked bread reached his nose. He took a long whiff and gave a sigh of relief.
Yet, there was something different about everything.
He was led into the chief's house and given a hearty welcome. He knew that if the villagers knew he was back they'd give him a hero's welcome, too, but if they saw him in this state he didn't know what they'd think of him.
The chief said he would bring in the witchdoctor in the afternoon as they'd arrived early in the hours of dawn. Liz was escorted back to her house to rest; he wanted to follow her, but the chief restricted him and invited him to sleep in his house.
Even the chief had a weird aura about him. There was something different in the children's laughter, the mothers' bickering, and the fathers' swearing—he couldn't place what. Something told him that being away from home for two years does affect most of your life.
In the afternoon the witch doctor came. Instead of creaky slow steps the noise was curt and businesslike. To his surprise he even heard two other pairs of feet enter the house along with her. Her assistants, he presumed.
The witchdoctor told him to obey her every word, in which he agreed. At least her voice was that of a witch's: high, cold, and scratchy. But as she spoke to him longer, over time, he thought she had a voice crack or whatnot, because it was turning smooth and sleek, like slippery gel.
"This will determine if you have your eyesight back or not," she spoke in that chillingly cool voice after she'd done all the necessities. "Once I unwrap these bandages, we'll see if my work has succeeded."
The two assistants, one a girl with a high pitched voice, and a man with a low huskiness to his tone, held their breaths. A third voice suddenly appeared out of nowhere. "Merlin, don't do it!"
The witchdoctor whipped off the bandages.
The curtains were blue.
"I can see!" He didn't care if he were acting as a fool; it had been such a long time color had played a part in his life. "I can see!" He bounced up and down, and that was the first thing he said. The second thing was Liz's name.
"Merlin, things are getting out of hand—" His eyes swiveled, and to his astonishment he saw a boy floating up in the air on a pillow. Probably the witchdoctor's work.
"Liz!" He repeated again, the anticipation welling up inside of him like a fountain ready to burst. "Liz—"
A hand smooth and soft landed on his shoulder and he turned. Staring in his face was not a kind, wizened face but a young, devious look on a sinisterly beautiful face.
"She's outside," The witchdoctor, or Merlin, spoke, a grim smile on her face. He wasted no time in barging out the door, barely hearing shouts of "No!" behind him.
"Liz!" He yelled out into the wilderness. The back of the house was covered in thick trees that stretched out beyond Danafor, yet the red-haired girl was nowhere to be seen. He took some time adjusting to the colors swimming in his vision before calling out again. He turned his head from side to side, until he saw a single color surrounded by a background of gray. A familiar sapphire blue.
He was about to respond when she took off into the deep dark woods. Bewilderedly he watched after her, and then took off into a sprint.
Liz had never been a fast runner all her life and he had quickly caught up to her. His new eyes had yet to be tested properly and his vision was swimming, but in a last effort he leapt upon her and pinned her to the forest floor.
Her hair was silver.
It was long, and was strewn across the mossy ground like a windmill. An eye was covered, just like how Liz's was, and the face was all the same. Button nose, rosy cheeks, petal lips. Even her body shape was similar: curvy yet slim. Her long legs stretched out underneath him.
The girl bit her lip. For once he was at a loss of words. Tears slipped out of her eyes, then poured down her face like two streams.
"You're…" You're not Liz! He wanted to scream to the heavens, cursing the goddesses wherever they were for eternity.
"I knew her." Liz's voice resonated through his brain. He looked down at the girl. Suddenly he stiffened when he reprocessed her words. "Knew…?"
"Liz was so cheerful," the girl continued, her tears still escaping her eyelids. "She was even cheerful and welcomed me like family when I arrived here, without a home, without anyone to rely on. Taking care of me was evidently a burden, but she never once complained about it."
"She told me so many stories of you. About how you had these green eyes, and a simpering smile that she adored and hated at the same time. She told me so many stories, so much evidence to say that she loved you, and I listened through it all. I lived in her house when it belonged to you as well; I'm sorry."
"Just after the war was won, the chief fell ill. There was no one who could diagnose him. His eyes went dark and his skin pale. Two days later he died."
"The plague spread to the people who died off one by one. And at last, they never spared anyone…" she sniffed hard. "I held her in my arms when she died. I made a promise, then…" Her crystal blue eye shimmered. "It was to find you… and bring you back… whatever the cost. I had to… I couldn't leave Liz like that… so I did. I came out to find you, but it took so long. First the chieftain of Liones Village discovered this land and myself, the only survivor. He conquered it and built upon this land more houses and facilities, but he respected that it all used to be Danafor. He still calls it Danafor, and I was adopted by him when I was found here all alone. Finally, I had the time and the things I needed to go look for you, so I went to where the war had ceased and found you…"
"… to find that you had lost your sight. And suddenly it became so easy…"
"I wanted to pretend to be Liz in front of you. It didn't change anything. But when I saw you, and learnt about you firsthand, I realized…"
She looked up, finally into his eyes as her gaze bored into his. What she said next shook him.
"I just wanted to be the Liz you wished to see."
It hit him. His mouth hung agape as he stared at the girl, broken and bruised before him, at his mercy. Her intentions were all but evil.
His eyes softened to the color of spring green as he took in this new being, this new sight to behold. It was soothing yet energizing.
He leaned in and rested his forehead against hers.
"I want you…" he began, and smiled that simpering smile, the color red surfacing in his subconscious. "… to tell me your name."
WHY DO I KILL MYSELF WITH THESE.
Wanted to get this done before bed so here's a trashy one-shot sorry. Will edit if not lazy.
-Mint-chan.