A.N – I wrote this for the Valentine challenge over at CMDA about a love returned. I am well aware it is odd, it makes no sense, it's unbetaed and just above plain awful. I never thought it'd be so hard to write these two, not when the idea made so much sense in my head. It was brainbreaking. Hopefully, someone will like it (crickets are chirping… no? yes? I might be hallucinating after too much time in front of this). Note: Before anyone complains, Caridin thinks of Shale as Shayle because that was the woman he knew.
Dedicated to Hatsepsut who has been having one hell of a time lately and Roxfox who was hiding somewhere and finally came back. Remind me to dedicate you something actually nice next time.
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Once upon a time, there was an artisan.
He was born for it, father and mother and brothers, all with crafty hands and minds sharp as any needle. He was better than all of them though. From his hands flowed jewels, crafted swords of legend, melded armors fit for Kings. He was the best of them all and his pride grew accordingly.
Once upon a time, there was a warrior.
She was born for it, only child of dead warriors, build to hold the reputation, the very foundation of a house whose beginning was far gone in memory. From her hands flowed death, easily given by sword and shield, underlined by an efficiency which was worthy of any tool. She was the best of her own and made sure to prove it.
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Humans said some things last for a lifetime. They didn't know how right they were. Some actions had consequences which slid through the ages, which presence is stamped on every moment, as never-ending and complicated to deal with as on those very first seconds. How much it hurt to take a certain action, how hard it was to overcome an obstacle, how painful it was to lose someone.
Caridin was old. He was older than many creatures he walked the earth. He knew what it was to lose.
He waited, trapped between walls of stone and rivers of fire. To go out, to show himself would be to bring harm and doom upon the world. Time was spent in the eternal days of the caverns, same light, same shadows; there was no change to be denoted. Nothing to lose his time with. He didn't study anymore, overcome with that horrible fear in the back of his mind. What if he found something else, dangerous and horrible? What if it was found by unscrupulous men? The stone fell into fire and melted only to return once more. History always repeated itself if he allowed it.
Someone would come.
And out of nowhere, they came. Hope resurfaced, strong as any of river slowly chewing stone into nothing. It didn't matter what they were, it didn't matter where they came from. They could listen. They could understand. He had created an abomination, couldn't they see? Something that ate lives and souls and left dolls behind. He would explain everything and anything, bear his soul for them to judge, submit to their orders, everything everything if they just listened.
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Once upon a time, artisan and warrior met.
It wasn't a meeting of chance; it had been her to search for him. Request first, blackmail then, laughter after. Their story began with a wish for his work and continued with small glances, whispers and snickers during fancy balls. They were a good match, honest and strong people. Everything was so much easier when near her, he realized. Everything was so much brighter when near him, she learned. It would be all right. Even with the war which consumed lands around them, licking earth and water, destroying every trace of life. It would be all right as they were together.
Then, his hands discovered something, new and wonderful and the deadliest of sins.
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They walked slowly, footfalls heavy against the floor of his old home. He could sense the fear, more than see it, in each of them, in the tick of an eyebrow or the subtle shivering of cold skin. He was certainly out of practice in something as simple as reading living flesh. Such was to be expected. Still, they made it easy. To be someone such as he – something such as he – carried advantages. Time didn't enlarge intelligence but it certainly gave an active mind enough to develop. His had had considerable training.
The elf moved forward to engage him in conversation; hesitatingly, he could see. Caridin would have liked to reassure her of his relative harmlessness but he did not have the time or he the inclination to give her assistance. Another had gripped his attention.
"Caridin," the Golem spoke up. "The Paragon Smith?"
"Ah. There is a voice I recognize."
Caridin didn't need the voice. He was back in time and nothing had changed. The Anvil beat behind him, the sharp metal screaming through the night. Smoke through the air, warmth, so much warmth because to break stone you would have to shatter it, to meld soul and stone you'd have to fuse them together and the exhaustion would always bother his lungs. She would stand to the side. Just there, just a little more to the right.
"Shayle. Step forward."
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Once upon a time, the warrior came to the artisan.
In her eyes was resolution, in her hands her whole Fate. Take from me, she said, make me as they are. Because without strong souls our country will perish, these things I have fought so hard to preserve. Every time that the artisan stopped her, pleaded her to think properly, to not throw her life away, she laughed and her laughter was bitter like old wine. Do not take this from me, her voice yelled, my life has meaning, function, purpose. I live for this, do not steal it, do not push me aside.
Because she had never been a princess. She was a warrior, a small woman in red pigtails, steel in her mind, velvet on her skin and fire in her heart. So brave that his own self was diminished. They should not call him Great, not while seeing this creature by his side.
What about us, he asked?
Her smile was barely visible, merciless and cold as his heart shattered.
We don't matter enough, she said.
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"You know my name," Shale stated slowly. "Was it you that forged me? Was it you who gave me my name?
Caridin had no heart. None had been left once smashed against the Anvil, the hammer fell down again and again, metal grinding against bones, gripping a corner of his soul and ripping everything apart. It had hurt. It hadn't hurt enough when compared to this moment.
She did not remember. She did not know. He was nothing to her bar a creator. A beast.
"Have you forgotten then?"
His throat would have choked if he had one, heart hammering against its metal cage.
"You were a dwarf, just as I was." Greater, so much Greater. "The finest warrior to serve King Valtorn and the only woman to volunteer." You had laughter like springs in the deep caverns and skin like the softest velum. You were brave. You were a fool. You let me go. I killed you.
He allowed himself to take one step closer. Metal did not feel like flesh could and so, no feeling came from touching her granite skin.
"Help me. Please, help me."
The Golem who once was Shayle looked at the elf, some exchange he didn't understand passing from female to female. There was no fear in his heart though. As his hand rested on the other creature, he felt certainty as never before. She had never pulled back, always brave, always doing what was right. Even if this elf was a deceitful being, Shayle would change her mind and make her do what was right. She had done it with him, hadn't she?
The elf nodded, the Golem made a sound of pure satisfaction and after, he remembered only flashes of the battle. A dwarf who was so much like him, the small group rolling back and forth, fighting for their lives. Caridin almost laughed with the odd show. He should worry they would die. Instead, he smiled inwardly, a pride without name rolling through his body as he watched the same stubborn, amazingly individual that, once upon a time, he had known.
It was over barely after it began.
The elf took over with painful efficiency. Her troops were ordered away to scavenge what they could while she stood in front of him. Fearless or doing a good job at trying to do so. It was her who raised the Hammer and struck the Anvil. She couldn't know what it was like to him to see his weapon destroyed. She couldn't know his happiness and sorrow.
He couldn't breathe. He couldn't sigh. He couldn't laugh or cry. He couldn't even show this small being how much she had helped him by breaking the shackles he, himself, had fashioned.
He could move on though.
The Golem waited near him, ever so close to the cliff where he stood. Dark stone, light through two slits which were not eyes, not hers and red pigtails and tanned skin and it never mattered whether he wished to do it or not.
"Shayle? Do you hate me?"
The pause between them lengthened. They were immortal creatures; time was, unfortunately, a luxury they could use at will.
"I don't remember."
That hurt, knowing she looked at him and didn't see him. Caridin. Always too small, dark skin which no lack of sun could change, bright eyes, stubborn, always knowing more than she did and always caving in. A man who had loved her. He hurt but she didn't. That was perfect, truly, he thought turning to fire which had been his companion for so long. It was better like this.
Because to love was to wish the best for your loved one. Caridin loved her enough to spare her from what had been.
"Ancestors protect and guide you always."
Perhaps, he thought briefly before welcoming the fire, he would become one of them.
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Once upon a time, the artisan came to the warrior.
He had made himself a monster by its own hands, through acts of horror without name, painful acts which had killed thousands. It took time for it to understand how much harm he had brought. When he did though, he pulled away from others and hid. You will not find me here, he said, and in this way, I will save you. He hid and he mourned and he thought himself forgotten by all.
But he had loved once though, a beautiful woman with red hair and eyes of light and she did not forget. She opened her doors to him, monster or not. Battered and worn, life had gone through her with the mercilessness of the greatest assassin to walk the earth. She could have been so happy.
Guilt crushed his heart.
How can you look at me, he asked uncomprehendingly, how can you stand my presence?
The warrior rolled her eyes; not quite laughing but almost there, the hint of the youth she had lost in every gesture.
To love is to wish for the best for your loved one, she said. For you, forgiveness is more important than anything else, even my love. And so, I forgive.
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Shale didn't move for a long time. Whatever the reason was, the Wardens had chosen to ignore it during the preparations for the departure. None of the members of the small group wished to stay in that place for more than the strictly necessary, not when the floor was still covered in tainted blood and the shouts of both Paragons echoed on the walls. It didn't either. Nevertheless, there was one last thing to be done now that the battle was over and it was alone.
Slowly, the Golem walked to the very edge where Caridin had stood. In those last moments, he had honestly looked peaceful, as much as any of them could ever feel. It had given that to him. She had.
Time and solitude had made him forget details. Such as, while Shayle had always been a good manipulator, she had been a far better liar. She would have been able to make him believe the sky to be purple with enough time and disposition.
Foolish man.
"Shale," yelled the female Warden, breaking apart her farewell with her usual bluntness. "Are you done?"
Yes. Now, she was.
"It should stop yelling to every creature in the vicinity about its location. I am sure it wishes to prolong its squishy existence for a couple more weeks, does it not?"