memento
The sky is overcast but startlingly bright; the sun struggles to make itself seen through the thick haze of clouds. The ground is layered with frost and patches of snow, and as two figures walk through the scattered trees, leaves twirl and dance onto the ground. A bird calls in the distance, its song echoed by an unseen chorus – it is clear, even in such a short time, that the land has since recovered from Ravenna's reign.
One of the two figures – the smaller one – comes to rest on a fallen log, sitting between two patches of crisp snow. She looks up, green eyes darting first to her companion's face and then to the ground. The other person, wearing a dark cloak, sits beside her, barely brushing her arm as he does. She flinches ostensibly.
"How have you been?" her voice is soft and she inclines her head towards him, but she does not look at him; her gaze slides in his direction, but her eyes remained trained on the ground.
"I've been well," he tells her, turning to observe her. She senses this, stiffening slightly and then immediately relaxing. Her left hand momentarily tenses, clenching the fabric of her dress involuntarily.
"I'm glad," she says, and although her voice is soft and shakes a little, he knows she means it.
"How is –" (his voice catches in his throat and he clears it quietly) "how… is the huntsman doing?"
Her eyes slide upwards to his face and she blinks twice without moving or speaking, and for a moment he wonders if he's misunderstood, or perhaps there are things he has no clue of, and he shouldn't have asked, it wasn't his business and she was never –
She gives a small smile.
"He's alright. He's gone back to his town, and everyone there has recovered well… he's happy."
She turns away and looks straight ahead, the shadow of a smile barely gracing her face.
"Do you love him?"
It costs him a lot to ask this question. He looks away briefly, and something is clenching his heart like a vice. But his gaze returns to her because he knows she will answer. She turns to him again, not smiling, maintaining the expression of serenity and quiet happiness. Her eyes are piercing.
"I thought I did. I really thought…" She takes a long, shallow breath and expels it slowly.
"He woke me up. It must have been because we loved each other. Or at least that's how it seemed to me." She smiles a little but it fades quickly.
"He told me, it was both of you that woke me up; combined, your feelings were everything that my life would have meant: avenging the dead, restoring life to the land, and…"
His clenched heart hammers in his chest. She smiles; it's radiant, and his lips give an involuntary twitch. Her happiness is infectious.
"His wife never died, you know. She was one of the slaves, restored to health after Ravenna died." She is smiling but her eyes are glassy.
"I don't love him, though. Do I even know what love is?" She locks eyes with him again, and suddenly he sees an emptiness and a sadness that was never there before.
"I was locked up for years in that tower… I had nothing to live on except for hope," she says, smiling ruefully. "Ephemeral prisoners in the other cells, they were my only human contact… Ravenna used to turn them old, consume their beauty, and then throw them away to be her servants."
The more she speaks, the farther away she seems to slip. "I used to dream that you would rescue me. You were the only one I knew who had survived… no one else made it." Her voice grows gradually quieter until it is a hoarse whisper.
His eyes flicker downwards, and then back up.
"I'm sorry," he tells her, his voice hoarse. He clears his throat. "I left you behind. And I never went back. I thought you had died – and I just accepted it."
"I don't blame you, William. How could I ever? Setting foot within the grounds would have gotten you killed," she tells him.
"No. I could have found you. I could have rescued you. We could have…" He looks away. She puts her hand over his, which is clenched in a fist on his knee. He turns back towards her.
"Do you remember when we were children?"
She smiles again.
"How could I forget?"
"We used to fight –"
"And the forest –"
"The apples –"
She gives a small and involuntary spasm.
"I remember that trick," she murmurs, eyes searching for something in the distance.
"Is there something wrong?" he asks. A shield has gone up behind her eyes.
"I never told you," she whispers. She meets his gaze and her eyes are wide and pained.
"Told me what?" He regards her with a stifled urgency and fear.
"Ravenna," she says, her voice quiet as if she doesn't want to hear herself say the name. "She disguised herself as you. You – she – killed me."
His expression is guarded and unreadable.
"You're afraid of me," he says, a small crease appearing between his brows as his eyes search hers.
She says nothing. The vice around his chest tightens, his heart aching as if it were bruised. He pulls his hand away from hers.
"You're afraid of me," he repeats, but this time he says it with a small bitterness as he stares at her. "You really think I would do anything to hurt you?"
She looks away.
"After all these years," he says, a small, crooked smile gracing his features. "I never stopped thinking about you. I love you."
Her heart is hammering almost as hard as his; his gaze never wavers, his expression rigid.
"I would never, ever hurt you – you know that," he says, his voice low and hoarse. Somewhere behind his words she can almost imagine him as a little boy; there's a plaintive pleading buried behind his impassivity.
"I know," she says quietly. She looks up into his eyes – brown, not blue. He is looking at her with a tenderness she's not known for a long time. William. It's been years – so, so many years – but here's finally here.
She leans in, reaching a shaking hand up to his face, her delicate fingers barely brushing his cheek. She closes her eyes and their lips meet – his are rough but they press gently. He reaches a hand up to clasp hers, and she trembles as his other hand cups her cheek, his calloused thumb brushing her skin. She leans in closer, her free hand now gripping his lapel, parting her lips a little bit wider, pressing herself into him a little more, the stubble on his jaw now brushing against her soft skin.
Slowly, he pulls back.
"William," she breathes, not knowing what she means to say.
"I love you," he tells her, fixing that intense gaze upon her again. Despite herself, she smiles.
"I love you too."
The vice around his chest relaxes. He smiles. For a moment, his eyes light up with the innocent joy of a young child. She watches him steadily for a moment, then abruptly stands up.
"Race you to the castle," she says, hitching up her skirts as she laughs and tears off towards the stone walls, him in close pursuit.