Author's Notes:
Hi guys, its Havok. Doing a bit of sideline works from my primary publish RaK (Reborn a King) which it has no relation to. This is a AmitaXAjay prototype i'm working on. Do comment on whether i should take it up or leave it till I finish works on RaK.
She had come a long road, all the ups and downs in leadership. But now was the lowest she could possibly be, Sabal's influence on the people was stretching beyond the previous boundary of their on-par supporters. And who was the catalyst of all this might you ask? Ajay Ghale, the son of Mohan Ghale. To her it was merely a big name within the Golden Path, but to much of the organization, it was their greatest leadership. And naturally, the son would be as great as the father had he chosen to led the Golden Path personally.
But he had a different mission, one that involved filial piety.
And it had come to this moment where she was to type out her will upon the typewriter. She hoped that the journal would inspire whomever picked it up to bring Kyrat out of an aged way that had more than its fair share of tyranny as was the current rule by one Pagan Min. Gunfire could be heard outside of the house as her loyal guards fought against the would-be assassin after her life. She knew who sent him/her, Sabal had gotten confident in taking full control over the Golden Path and decided the two-headed elephant only needed one head.
Sighing to herself, she continued to type out her journal on the typewriter. She had no regrets in the path she'd taken until now… well…. Perhaps one.
She looked to the side of the table where a pendant she received as a gift from the person she initially loathed, then admired, then fell for.
Footsteps were heard entering at the patio outside the front door, the door creeked open and stepping forward was her assassin.
Amita was a little frightened by the prospect of dying even before her ambition was fulfilled, and even more not seeing his face and not telling him how she felt.
But she did so anyway, if she was to die it had to be with dignit-
"…..You…?"
When she turned her head, she saw the one person she didn't want to imagine would be here and worst off… be her executioner?!
-Why?! Why?! Why?! Why is it YOU?!- She screamed internally, on the exterior her facial expression froze for a second then came to terms with the situation.
"He sent you here to kill me?... I knew it would come to this…." Amita rested her hands upon the armrest as she turned her body away from the desk.
Her would-be assassin stood motionless with the same brooding eyes he always wore.
"But you?..."
"Who else pulls the trigger around here?" Was his only response. Her face sullen she breathed out exasperatedly.
"Good point…. Sabal hides behind his blind faith and tradition and you just-…. You follow along like one of his subjects?"
There was still no response from the other side. But a flicker of doubt and conflict within his eyes. Amita felt like crying, what was happening right now was beyond any possible heartbreak she could fathom.
-What was I to you?...-
She stood up breathing in disorder, but waved her hand expressively as she said.
"I actually believed you when you said that all you wanted to was honor your mother's dying wish." Amita said with disappointment in her voice as she packed the notes and journal accounts into a folder. She then pressed her hands on the table when she finished to think about all that came down to this moment. Squeezing her fists tightly, Sabal had done the most unthinkably cruel to her.
He sent Ajay to kill her.
Tears fell from her eyes, but a blaze of determination to face every adversity burnt brightly. She climbed up from the impossible pit to reach the highest echelon of Command within the Golden Path at twenty-five. She turned towards him with reddened eyes but with defiance in them biting her lip in the pure agony of the moment.
"Go on. Son of Mohan. Savior of Kyrat! Follow your orders!- Pull the trigger."
Every words she said tore chucks out of her heart, every moment he stood without saying a word was more knives to stab into her.
"…. I'm sure it's the will of Kyra"
Amita said mockingly of Sabal's signature catchphrase. One he always threw around lightly, like he was a fervent priest despite his lineage as a commoner and not of the Brahmins. What was he trying to be anyway? A Military Commander or A holy saint? There was no clear cut picture with Sabal.
Every second that went by was more agony for her, so she antagonized Ajay to finish her off and finish his 'mission'.
-What are you waiting for?!-
Ajay's shooting hand raised his 1911 handgun towards Amita's chest. She looked at him with complex thoughts but then a feeling of irony fell over her. Clutching her pendant he gave to her so long ago, she looked up towards him and gave him a saddened smile.
-Perhaps it was better this way. Then I was never what Kyrat needed. But...-
She looked deeply into his pair of brooding eyes, not a single flash of emotion appeared on them.
-In the end... I'm still glad to have met you. Ajay.-
(BANG)