Copyright? Um... I don't own it... never have... never will... just own this wee wittle plot
Authoresses Note: THE KID IS BACK! Young woman, actually. But no need to be specific. Anywho, HERE is the beginning of one of those stories I promised ya'll. And it shan't go unfinished... 'CAUSE IT'S DONE! Just has to be beta-ed and edited and all that fun stuff. So things should come along quickly, though I may wait between posting just to keep ya'll in suspense. ;) And again, I thank EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU who read TVaTJ and supported the decision of ending it as it was. But... you've waited long enough! Here it is! 343 WORDS OF PURE GOODNESS! Yup, just a prologue. *dodges all the sharp utensils* I'LL GET MORE UP SOON, I SWEAR!
What Have I Done
Prologue
Now I'm trapped in the wake, of all my mistakes
I've been under for way too long
-12 Stones 'This Dark Day'
Rain beating against the window clashed with the sound of thunder. A bolt of bright light flashed, causing the limp form under my sword to flinch.
Fear.
Hurt.
Failure.
All of these words invaded my thoughts and all of these words resonated in his eyes.
He had lost. For his country. For his sisters. For his brother... for me.
And I had won.
One blow, one push of my sword and it would go straight through his heart.
Part of me screamed out to put the sword down. But part of me tightened the grip on my sword and pressed it tighter against his chest.
His gaze met mine for an instant and I knew what was going through his mind. He wasn't afraid to die. He was afraid for his sisters. For his country. Of what would become after he was finished.
I heard the sound of my sisters' sobs, but they dared not make a move. If they did it would only make me finish off this one that I had held so dear. This one that had been my rock just as I had been his.
Suddenly... I wasn't so certain.
Memories returned. Thoughts from long ago. My deeds that I had done these past weeks. The girl that held sway over me. What I had done to hurt them. Oh, I had hurt them.
And now.... that hurt more than anything.
I looked down at the shaking form of my brother. His dark hair stuck to his forehead with sweat and blood. For a moment he opened his eyes, revealing the deep brown I knew so well, but with the pain that had been placed there.
I held his gaze, my arm beginning to shake.
He was crying. My little brother never cried. But he was crying... for his country. For his sisters. And, once again, for me. For the brother he had known that was still in here.
I felt myself grow week. From what I had become. What I had done. Oh, Aslan, what have I done?