Coming Home
Crying would get her absolutely nowhere. Feeling sorry for herself wound only make things worse and to be honest, perhaps she not strong enough this time.
How long had it been now? Five years? Five long years of a standstill with her home, why the Hell hadn't she left yet? It wasn't like Dan was a child anymore, he's sixteen and already much taller than she is. No, that's not it. She wants to stay because she hopes he'll come back for her, tell her he's stopped running and he's ready to accept that while yes, he could kill her; he is ready to at least try. Really try. She wants to be in a place where he can find her again, sweep her off her feet and make her feel like a real woman, give her the excuse to dress up in skirts and flaunt her curves with pride. Things have never been the same since he left, regardless of the Nobility ceasing its existence in the castle, no one has ever attempted conversation with her.
There are no marks, no lasting affects, Hell; she didn't even get in bed with the pig and then everyone started going on about this "tainted virgin" crap. Sure, she might have kissed the half-breed but no one knew that, not even Dan!
Relax Doris; yelling at them isn't going to get you anywhere.
She likes to think that she's mature enough to ignore the whisperings behind her back, the constant stares burning into her skull, or even the fact that everyone refuses to sell their product or even bargain for the milk, butter, cheese, and meat she brings into town. She likes to think she's above it all but things are different, she is different. For once in her life, she had someone to depend on, someone who was going to look out for her and Dan and even if that time was short, she was grateful for it. Her mother died when she was very young, a full three years after Dan was born and no matter how much she asked and pleaded with her father, he refused to tell her how it all happened. Was he ashamed of her? Ashamed that his daughter clung to the corpse of his wife and wept for days, not allowing the doctor to clean her up and dress her well for the funeral? Or that she got sick from the death and had to stay in bed as Dan tried to grasp the concept of death on his own? It was her sixteenth birthday! That was a time when she needed her mother the most, needed that motherly guidance as she grew up.
She didn't know herself until her father put that whip in her hands after the coffin was safely buried in the earth, after Mother's worried eyes were forever blind to what that darling child would become. She admits that she became much more harsh and stubborn when her father would take her out to hunt the monsters but at least she wasn't crying her life away. She shied away from dresses and pigtails, let her hair grow wild and free, let her dress in men's clothing because she didn't need her legs to show to get attention. Every boy would look at her and say "man, isn't she something?" and the parents would shake their heads, "she's more of a man that you are". Hair the colour of a raven's wing, olive skin, soulful blue eyes that could become riotous waves, long legs, voluptuous breasts, and the confident look governing the curve of her upper lip.
She wasn't as confident now.
She played the damsel once and it's hard getting back into the role of a knight, Dan isn't helping the matter. She swears he's six feet now and his hair's darker than it used to be, eyes are bright with innocence but they've been described as burning coal. He looks so much like their father; broad and powerful shoulders, the fuzz on his chin, calloused hands and a gentle yet gruff voice. Every morning Dan sits at the table to allow his sister to comb out his long hair and tie it in a long ponytail that runs down his back like a horse's tail; that dark rider leaves his essence everywhere whether it be in her brother's rugged yet refined looks, or the smoky moon that eludes her eyes when she searches for it in the night sky. The wind in the trees that blows leaves into her hair, sliding against her cheeks and getting caught around her head like a crown. Babbling brooks that tease her toes and send chills up her spine, grass against the soles of her feet, cool stone at her back, a comforting pillow clutched tightly against her chest. He's everywhere but nowhere, here but not here. His face is an illusion in the stars, twinkling and falling like shattered tears on a blank canvas, a canvas meant to be filled with crimson petals.
She's not afraid of the bloodlust or how his hands could snap her neck like a toothpick, it's the danger that thrills her, how his face could be void of feeling until that smile opens up his eyes and you see true love. She knows he felt it, the wanting only love can bring, the need to be with something wholly and completely. A gentle caress, the passion of sex, heat in their words, roses in their cheeks, mingling taste on the tongue and lips. Words spoken by action alone, full thoughts conveyed in a sigh or longing gaze, he felt it. The sight of her kept him rapt, his body frozen and eyes looking at her for the first time, realizing that she'd do anything for him if he only asked. Not that he would. Either he was too prideful or he was just afraid. It's probably the fear that kept them a part.
He's afraid of himself, she knew when he refused to let her go and then brushed her off a second later, a hand flying to his face as he walked off. What had he done? What was he going to do? Why would he do that? He loved her, so much so that he couldn't bring himself to hurt her; that explains why he never said goodbye, he couldn't bring himself to cause her such disappointment and pain. She could've taken the pain of loss much easier if he had said something, left something behind for her but all she has to deal with being unwanted.
Tainted. Unclean. Unwanted. Untouchable. Forbidden. Outcast. Freak.
It would've been easier if he had been plain with her, then this pain in her chest would finally subside and die! Tears would be rarer than diamonds, helplessness forgotten, love…Let love be abandoned.
No! She needs this. The constant wanting, the need for companionship. This pain…is what keeps her alive, keeps her strong in front of Dan even when all she wants to do it break down and cry. Would that same hunter think so highly of her if he saw her like this? Probably not.
He loved her for her strength and mercy, the unconditional love she would've given him, the tears she shed for him, how she'd give anything, even her body, to protect the people she loved. He loved her for her love. She couldn't let him down, how could she? He might come back yet, right? No quitting, no crying. Not now, not ever.
She didn't cry when her father died, she realized that tears would never bring him back unless some Noble got smart. She needed to be strong for Dan, to keep him happy, and to one day be worthy of the hunter's love because he wasn't invincible no matter how much he convinced himself otherwise. He had died once, she didn't understand how he came back, but then again the next time she saw him, her mind was clouded and she was in a wedding dress. A wedding dress. Completely unheard now because all those men who were vying for her attention avoid her like the plague. She kept the dress for a while until the sight of it made her sick, she and Dan collected everything in the house that they didn't need anymore and set it all on fire; orange flames tried in vain to lick away at the sun.
Suddenly, Dan's heavy footsteps entered the house and Doris looked up from breakfast as the teen slumped into the chair across from her, placing his head in his arms and groaning.
"That's what you get for sleeping on the roof." She told him softly, ruffling his tangled tresses and passing him a plate of eggs and bacon. He mumbled something incoherent to her ears and Doris rose from her seat, grabbed a brush from the counter and yanked Dan into a seating position. Carefully combing through his long, dark brown hair and tying it in a red ribbon, her placed her hands on his shoulders and squeezed gently, the boy groaned and leaned back.
"Where'd you learn to do that?" Doris giggled and released Dan, he rocked back and opened his eyes with a smile, grabbing a fork and knife and digging in.
"I'm your big sister, I'm supposed to know these things." Dan opened his mouth to retort something back and Doris put a hand over his mouth. "Don't talk with food in your mouth, its rude." Dan swallowed and Doris cuffed the back of his head and walked outside. Her intent was to pick some flowers to brighten the house a bit and maybe even her mood, there was a patch of yellow and white flowers outside the fence and near of the only trees outside of town. Doris hiked up her skirt, a shade of dark red, and pulled herself over the fence and ran to the shade of the tree, curling her hair behind her ear and fitting her fingers around the stem.
The flowers were a bright honey gold that crept up the petal until it slowly turned white, tear-shaped with soft stems. She got up again and walked around the tree, putting a hand out to get more flowers when it bumped into something. Doris frowned, forming a nasty comment behind her lips, when she suddenly took interest in the pale white hand hovering over hers. The skin was smooth without a blemish, wrapped in tight leather that belonged to a long arm of toned muscle, a part of a shoulder that a black cloak hung off of, a scarf around a neck. A face she could never forget.
Doris felt her cheeks redden in an instant, falling back on her bum and losing her grip on the flowers, the man held one with a thoughtful expression on his face. He reached out and tucked the flower behind her ear, his face softening with every movement until he stood up and pulled Doris with him.
"I'm back," he said quietly, putting one of his hands on the woman's cheek with a careful smile.
"I noticed." She retorted, putting her hands on her hips and smirking up at him. D chuckled, a sound Doris had never heard before but was pleasing to listen to all the same, her brashness remained after all this time. She took his hand in hers and started to run, calling out to Dan and catching sight of him leading D's horse into the stable.
Perhaps she hated him for leaving, hated how the village ostracized her and how she never knew if he was ever coming back, hated the throbbing in her heart when she was reminded of her prince of darkness but that didn't matter anymore. As long as he said goodbye before he left, Doris was content with just being with him, knowing he was hers and that wouldn't change…
For all eternity.