He leaned on the wooden back of the bench, arms crossed over chest, staring unblinkingly at the large iron doors. Door which lead into the every knight's worst fears: the Chamber of Ordeal. Like years past, it had been his turn, then his cousins, and now it was Alan of Trebond's. Just one obstacle stood between him and the death of his Princely cousin, just one. And to think it took shape as a small youth with red hair and violet eyes.
And he was in the Chamber, the very one that had scathed him so long ago. Where he made his worst mistake, and left him power-hungry. And how many mistakes had he made since then? How many would he make in the future?
The last flicker of light was shut out as the doors closed behind him. He waited for something to happen, nothing did. A boxed room, that was all, and to think of the fools that said--a sharp tug by the wind brought him out of his musings. It whirled around him, teasing and malicious. Slowly, a thread of orange fire left him, it quickly turned into a stream until all was drained. The orange smudge hanging in front of him compacted into a globe, shrinking as it did, leaving silence in it's wake.
It was strange, how quiet it was without the whistling of the wind. Just like how empty it felt without his Gift. He frowned, he had only realized then that his Gift was gone. He knew it was forbidden to use it, and also impossible, but it had been there. And now it was gone? He laughed silently, how foolish of him to think it was really gone! No, it was just a trick--or was it?
'It's gone, Roger. All of it, like your mother and father--dead,' a voice whispered in his head. It was a soft, husky voice. Feminine, yet not at the same time, when had sounded out in his mind, purple eyes had seemed to stare out at him from the darkness. 'No one truly knows you, you're all alone, just you and your ambition.'
Waiting for the birds to sing anyone who knows you anymore
Those purple eyes still haunted him, boring an image into his mind. In his mind, he saw Alan of Trebond staring at him through those large, innocent eyes of the exact same shade. But it wasn't him, how could it be? The voice had belonged to a woman, he had been sure, even if the huskiness indicated...differently.
The doors opened and everyone became alert. The boy stumbled out of it and his cousin and Sir Myles rushed to help him. Roger watched his mouth move as he whispered something to the Prince. She must have saw something relating to him, she must have. He was sure, he just didn't know why. Another mistake in leaving him alive.
It's all right to make mistakes, you're only human
Inside everybody's hiding something
He faced him, Alan of Trebond, fresh from the Ordeal and already causing trouble for him. But it was his mistake in slipping so much that gave the chance for the new knight to uncover him. But it would be nothing once the youth was dead, and by his own hand, no less. But why did he have a strange feeling about this?
The voice slowly faded, as did the soulful eyes. Roger balled his hands into fists, his knuckles turning white as he applied the pressure of his silent fury. He dug his nails into the soft flesh of his palm until a drop of blood oozed out and dropped, splattering against the cold stone floor. There was a flash of white and he found himself standing alone on a black rock in the middle of nowhere. There was no light, but at the same time, there was no darkness. It was a state of nothingness. So it is true, he thought, the Chamber does bring your worst fears alive. Another mistake to add to the list. He smiled sadly at his own folly.
Even at a time like this when the morning seems so far
His eyes glazed over to hide this clearly-showing surprise. So Alan was really a woman. Alanna. He snarled and lunged at her, his anger could be withheld no longer. He attacked furiously as she countered, bringing out the best of herself. He watched in fear--that he hadn't had since the Chamber--as she beat him to the ground. In a last attempt, he called on his Gift and formed a large orange cloud around him, reaching to cut off the life of those who stood in his way to power and revenge.
His anger grew as he vowed to have the throne for his own one day. All that power, all that hate, centered around the throne that many would die for, would be his.
Cold metal pressing against his throat startled him. The pressure increased and he looked up to see the welder of his life. But there was nothing but mist. 'Time to die, Roger,' Her voice said. And the next thing he knew was floating, trapped, in the Realms of the Dead. 'Your own mistakes brought this down on you.'
It's all right to make mistakes you're only human
Inside everybody's hiding something
Take time to catch your breath and choose your moment
~~~~
He had dead, but not quite. The Chamber had taught him a lesson, and he had strived to reach his goal in finding 'Sorcerer's Sleep'. He had succeeded, and who else but Her own brother brought him back? It was all perfectly planned, no more mistakes for him. Footsteps declared Her arrival--Alanna, the Lioness.
Suddenly, he found himself returned to the dark, closed room he had entered. A beam of light fell across him. He stood up and strode determinedly out of the Chapel. He learned something in there: Mistakes lead to fear, and he would make as few of them as possible. But then She came, and everything collapsed. But so be it, if his plans crumbled, she would die too. Along with the rest of the world.
'Are you sure about this Roger? You're making another mistake. Do not follow this dream, it will only lead to destruction. Choose differently...please?' So now She begged, but it was too late. He tore himself away from the Chamber door and walked away.
I should have listened, he thought, laughing. It was his last thought as flames consumed his body and he fell into the Nothingness he was so afraid of. No Gift, No Life. All because of Mistakes: his mistakes.
You brought this on yourself and it's high time you left it there
Lie here and rest your head and dream of something else instead
Something I wrote for the Dancing Dove's weekly Seanfhocal Challenge (now you know why I've been ignoring my fanfics). I advise you to go to the Dancing Dove Forums (link on my bio), which basically discusses everything Tamora Pierce and more. Browse around then decide if you want to join. Pretty Please?
The lyrics are from Dido's Slide.
~Reaya