AN: Alright then, we are FINALLY done! I know, it seems weird that I am finally finishing this, its just kept going and going and going…Anyways, I was looking back at some of the earlier Author's notes that I left and wow did I make myself into the BIGGEST LIAR! How many times did I say "We're in the home stretch now, just a couple more chapters"? Well, sorry about that. Hope you enjoyed it anyway!
Well, this started out as an edit intended to get rid of the typos in the original, but instead it turned into a re-write with possibly even more typos than the first one. Ah well. Sooo, there were major changes done after all, but actually I think this version is better than the first one. Sad thing is though I'm STILL not satisfied with it, I think there is a lot of room for improvement...but I guess there always is. Oh well. I just have to leave it now. There's a little thank you message at the end of this very long chapter to all my wonderfully loyal reviewers and readers.
Epilogue Part 1: Moving On
Killyjoy was pacing restlessly. He refused to leave Zach's side but he was also accustomed to far more activity. He would alternate between these bouts of pacing and long stretches of complete inactivity where he would stare at the window for long periods of time, whining a pitiful, sorrowful whine. His companion, the Mule Colt, would try to comfort him when he pined for his mistress. The truth was that Zach pined with him. The only difference was that he understood that she was never coming back, none of them were. Killyjoy didn't. Not yet. Rhonaraye had never been away from the dog for this long before; he had been the creature to accompany her (almost) everywhere. He had gone places with her that she wouldn't even take her twin, been with her at times she had refused to see any other living creature.
People— adults— kept trying to make Zach "accept" and "understand" that the woman who had cared for him all his life wasn't coming back, neither were the wise old Goat or the burly, loving Bears. They seemed to have told themselves that he was in shock and had somehow convinced himself that his mother was going to miraculously return somehow. How stupid did they think he was? He wasn't the one who thought she was coming back, but there were loads of people who were.
The truth was, he'd known that night the base was attacked right before the evacuation that he was never going to see her again. She'd come into his room and stayed for maybe 10 minutes. He would remember those 10 minutes for as long as he lived.
She'd come in and sat down with him and Killyjoy. For a full minute— maybe 2— she said nothing, just looked at him. When she had started to talk she'd told him how proud she was of him, and also how sorry she was that he was going to go through a hard time, that some of the other children might be cruel to him. She told him to be brave and hold his ground and apologized again, for she wasn't going to be there to protect him; she was going to be leaving him again and this time she might not be back for a long time.
"But…you are coming back, aren't you?" Zach asked
"I'm going to try." Rhonaraye replied, stroking his ear gently "But I'm also going to do what's best for you."
"You are!" Zach exclaimed angrily "You're what's best for me! Why don't you ever stay? Don't go!"
"I have to Zach," She said, giving him a kiss on the forehead as she rose. He lunged after her and threw his forelegs around her waist, knowing that she was saying goodbye.
"Mamma please, don't go!"
Zach shook his head at the memory. He had never called her that aloud before that moment, but he'd thought it before. That was who she was to him. It had been an attempt to emotionally blackmail her into staying with him. He'd been desperate. It hadn't worked though. She'd held him close, clung to him for a minute or two murmuring comforting things to him, telling him over and over that he was loved. As a matter of fact, that was the one thing she'd asked him not to let anyone convince him of; that he hadn't been loved. That she hadn't loved him. She said nothing about anything else, just told him to make his own opinions and decisions. Then she had left.
Neither Zach nor Killyjoy would ever see her again.
A sharp rap on the door snapped the Colt out of his reverie. He snorted in disdain and turned his head away from the door. The knocking continued. Killyjoy barked after the third set of raps on the wood.
"Zach?" A familiar, muffled voice said from the other side "Zach, it's me. Liir."
"I know it's you." Zach grumbled in reply "Go away."
"Can't do that." Liir replied, leaning against the door. "Annette has my cane. Won't give it back till I say that we said something to one another. C'mon, Zach, you can't leave a buddy hanging!"
The Mule snorted again and shook his head. There was a long pause where neither of them said anything. Zach made no move to open the door.
"Zach," Liir said "You're not the only one who's grieving."
The door flew open. Liir stumbled when he lost his support and fell to the floor with a growl of pain. The Mule was standing over him.
"Neither are you." the Colt said darkly. The young man sighed and pulled himself up into a sitting position as the young Mule grumbled "At least I paid my respects."
"No," he agreed, "I'm not. Everyone lost somebody to the war and I have been acting like a child. I didn't go to a single funeral or offer a single word of condolence. If I'm going to defend myself though, I was in a coma for most of them."
"Not all of them." Zach replied coldly. Liir's face fell. He sighed as he looped one arm casually around his knee in a jock-like slouch.
"You're right. I know that." He said "But, me acting like a kid doesn't give you the excuse to. Locking yourself away up here? That really what you're going with?"
"Why not? She did it often enough." Zach retorted.
"Doesn't make it any less childish." Liir informed him without missing a beat. Zach looked murderous but Liir continued "It was childish and overdramatic then and it's childish and overdramatic now."
The Mule looked as though he were ready to shoot steam out of his ears. He snorted and pawed the ground, looking away from Liir angrily again. The young man didn't look away from him, however. He watched for everything about the Colt's posture and what he had amassed in this little hide-out of his. Thing was, this wasn't like the mule. It was the first time Zach had ever imitated his guardian in this way; he may have had his difficulties with some of his peers but overall he was a social Creature. Something had to have prompted these actions.
"What made you come up here?" he asked "Something had to have set you off. What was it?"
The Mule ground his teeth sullenly.
"Don't pretend you don't know."
"That's hard to do, 'cause I don't."
"Stop it, you knew then too. How could you not?"
"Know what, Zach?"
"What she was going to do! You telling me that Kynot knew and you didn't?"
This came as a surprise to Liir, and it showed on his expression. There was a tense silence for several moments and he tried to process this.
"What?" he finally asked.
"He knew." The Mule repeated "He let it slip when trying to sell me some crap after her funeral about his 'respect' for her. Apparently they had something planned for months, right after your stupid vision at some meeting."
Liir sat there dumbly for a minute, blinking, a distant look in his eye as he concentrated on the snippets of memory he had received from his sister during her final minutes. He hadn't been able to make sense of many of the flashes of events and emotions that were not his.
"Kynot?" he muttered to himself with a frown.
*Flashback*
…Discreetly the young woman sidled up to the Eagle, Kynot and subtly redirected him with a hand on his shoulder.
"What do you think you're doing?" he demanded indignantly
"We need to have a talk," she stated.
The scene in Liir's head morphed from the hallway to a small mine chamber, abandoned save for the young woman and the Eagle.
"Alright, talk." Kynot said.
"You can't win this." Rhonaraye said simply. "Not the way we're doing it now. Mother's a match for any wizard they can come up with but with Xorthion we're never going to get out of this tie. He needs to be taken out of the equation."
"This could have been discussed at the meeting." Kynot grumbled. Rhonaraye shook her head.
"No, it couldn't." she replied, starting to slowly pace. "You see, the only person who has any chance of getting near him is me."
"And your family would cause a real riot about that, wouldn't they?" Kynot scoffed with disdain
"Them and anyone else who wants a favor from me some day." Raye agreed
"So why talk to me?"
"Because you don't give a damn so long as you win." She said. Kynot looked taken aback at this, but said nothing before the memory began to swirl out of focus.
When the images cleared again Kynot and Rhonaraye were now standing within a room that Liir recognised as a room in the base. Again they were alone with the door closed and conversing quietly so that their voices wouldn't carry. Raye was standing by the window chewing absently on a thumbnail, looking at the Eagle's reflection in the glass.
"How will you do it?"Kynot asked gruffly
"All you need to know is that I'll remove Xorthion from the equation along with all the protective enchantments he's had placed on the Goblin army. After that it's up to you to deal with rest. I'll be gone too."
"No details, then?" Kynot insisted.
"Need to know." Raye replied quietly
"You do have a plan to destroy him, don't you?" he inquired, though there was surprisingly no condescension in his tone. There was a slight pause before Rhonaraye answered, though she neglected to turn to face him.
"Of course I do." She told him quietly.
"Well, good." The General said, turning to leave.
"Kynot," Raye called after him, halting the Eagle mid-hop before uttering one demand "Zach."
"What about him?"
"He's to have every opportunity." She demanded "He's not going to be paying for any of my mistakes."
"He is not yours to taint." Kynot replied. The statement was harsh, but his tone was strangely…comforting "He is the son of two Animals martyred for our cause."
"And the rest of my family?"
"If they fight with us, there won't be any problems."
"One more thing, Kynot." She said "Once I'm gone don't look for me. Don't track me down, don't ask questions and never try to find me. I get rid of the mage. The rest is your job. Agreed?"
The Eagle nodded once. The redhead gave a small sigh of relief.
"Thank you."…
…the scene changed again…
…Now they were standing in the middle of the hallway, Rhonaraye at the window ready to fly off into the night following the raid. At the open window the young woman paused and looked at the crowd of rebels packing into the corridor around her. Her eyes found the old, battle-worn Eagle among them. A look of understanding briefly corssed his good eye and he gave a nod that would have been imperceptible if one hadn't been looking for it. The Mage turned back to the night sky and jumped…
****End of Flashback****
"They found her will, you know. When we got to the safe spot it was waiting there on the table. By then the battle was half-over, I guess. You'll probably get your share of stuff soon but I got most of it— including Killyjoy."
The Mule's words brought Liir out of his sister's memories and he sat dumbstruck for a moment, trying to process this. He'd had a sense that his sister had planned her actions in advance, but had not anticipated the lengths to which she had gone. He'd known she hadn't planned exclusively on ending her life, but it seemed that she had been intent on ending her involvement in theirs. It hurt to think that she may not have intended ever to reconcile with them had she convinced Xorthion to abandon his plan and therefore survived. Nevertheless, Rhonaraye was not who he should be concentrating on at the moment. Instead, he returned his attention to Zach with a sigh.
"That's really it? That's why you ran off?" He asked "What else was there, Zach?"
Again there was a long pause. Killyjoy whined.
"He put his wing around me. He called me 'son'." The Mule finally spat out. Liir waited. No more came.
"And…?"
"And everyone's been doing that!" Zach snapped, gaining volume as he continued "It's okay, Son; Why don't you come have dinner with our family tonight, Son; Are you sure you're okay, Son? Everybody suddenly wants to 'be there for me'!"
"Um, Zach, don't take this the wrong way, but that's called being nice."
"Everybody thinks I need a parent!'" Zach yelled, his volume still rising "Well maybe I don't want any more parents! I don't want another father and I damn well don't want another—" he cut himself off and looked to the side angrily, snorting several times as he fought back tears. "I don't want any more parents. I've already had more than my share. I go through them too quickly. Even Dr. Dillamond and Ralimla…"
"None of that was your fault—"
"I don't care!" Zach snapped "I'm a jinx! Anyone who looks after me ends up dead!"
Liir groaned and said nothing for a full minute. Finally he shrugged.
"Okay then. I'll leave you up here. You don't have to come down." He said, hauling himself to his feet.
"What?" Zach asked, confused. Liir shrugged again.
"Well, you can stay up here for the rest of your life. I'm sure we could arrange for you to not have to talk to anyone at all. Don't want to jinx anyone else, right?"
The Mule stared at him, his mouth opening and closing in indignation though no sound came out.
"That is…what you want, isn't it? No annoying talking, no one bothering you, no friends…"
Zach didn't answer, but scuffed his hoof against the floor.
"Your trick is kind of obvious. She used that on me when I was 3." He mumbled grumpily
"Is it working? Cause, you know this isn't what any of them would have wanted." Liir countered. The Mule's flanks heaved and then fell in one great sigh. He ground his flat, herbivorous teeth and snorted before he stood up on his hind legs. Killyjoy stood with him.
"Guess not." He grumbled. He looked down at the young man and extended a hoof. "Need some help getting up?"
Liir nodded with a slight, crooked smile, accepting the Colt's assistance.
8888888
Two Months Later
"Elphie?" Glinda beckoned as she rapped smartly on her friend's door, "Elphaba, where were you? You were supposed to meet me for breakfast half an hour ago! I got up early."
The last sentence was an indignant growl but it was also a jibe. When her friend failed to respond to this, she started to get worried and increased the power of her knuckles on the wood with a frown of concern.
"Elphie, are you alright in there? Elphie? Elphaba Thropp answer m—" the blonde was cut off when the door opened, making her stumble forward a little. She looked down to see the particularly intelligent young female of the Winged Monkey colony standing there, one hand still on the door.
"I'm afraid that Mistress Elphaba is indisposed at the moment." She said very politely.
"Indisposed what do you…" Glinda began trailing off when she heard the violent retching coming from the direction of the bathroom.
"Again?" she asked no one in particular, concern apparent in her voice as she shooed away the Monkey's attempts to stop her heading to the washroom. Sure enough, when she opened the door she found the green woman slumped over the toilet bowl, her sides heaving as she tried to catch her breath after losing the contents of her stomach. Elphaba's eyes closed as she leaned her forehead against the cool porcelain of the side of the toilet. The Blonde sighed and walked over to the green woman. She put a hand on her friend's shoulder and slowly knelt down beside her, careful to spread her skirts out around her gracefully as she did so by sheer force of habit.
"Elphie, you need to see a Doctor, this is getting out of hand. Something is wrong." Glinda said. Elphaba inhaled, about to say something when she suddenly lurched forward and gripped the toilet bowl again as she retched again. The blonde immediately moved to gently pull back her hair. When the green woman was done she muttered a word of gratitude to her friend and eased herself back so that she was leaning against the wall. The Blonde watched her with a deep worry in her eyes.
"Elphie," she began.
"No doctors, Glinda." The witch cut her off immediately. If her friend hadn't known her better she would have thought that the green woman was angry, but she did know her better and therefore heard the edge of fear in her voice.
"Elphaba, if you're sick then the sooner they find out what's the matter, the sooner you can get well." She said patiently. The other witch again shook her head as she brought her knees up to her chest. It was at times like this that her "new" age really showed. She looked like a lost, somewhat frightened young woman as she rested her quickly hollowing cheek on her knees.
"I'm not worried that they'll tell me I'm sick." She confessed in what was almost a whisper as she slowly met Glinda's eyes. Her silver eyes were one thing that hadn't changed; they were old eyes. Eyes that had seen too much, eyes that were haunted, grieving, tired. The green woman took a deep breath and brought one hand up to her forehead and leaned into it slowly, as though she had a headache.
"Then…what?" Glinda asked. Her friend sighed.
"I'm worried that they'll tell me I'm not." She replied. The blonde blinked, confused. Elphaba closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall, letting her hand fall to her abdomen limply. She took another deep breath "I haven't bled since the Fountain."
"Bled?" Glinda repeated "But you…ohhh! Bled," the blonde spluttered, finally understanding with a hint of embarrassment. A moment after it dawned on her, her jaw dropped in happy excitement
"You mean you think you might be…" she trailed off. Her friend nodded once and drew her legs up further towards her chest. The blonde, however, let out a squeal of delight and threw her arms around the green woman's narrow shoulders. She caught her off guard enough that Elphaba was thrown off-balance and nearly fell to the side as Glinda wrenched her this way and that like she used to in their college days.
"Oh, Elphie! That's wonderful! After so much death…oh it's so beautiferous! I could cry!"
"You are crying." Elphaba pointed out bluntly. It was true. The bubbly witch of the north did have droplets sliding gracefully down her cheeks even as she grinned. She touched her skin with the pads of her fingertips and looked at the moisture there. She shrugged and threw her arms around the green woman again (who replied with a grunt of something like 'okay…!' as she was again thrown off balance.)
"Oh, I don't care! It's still wonderful! I suppose it makes sense, I mean, you are…well, young, again aren't you? And-wait. Why would you be scared that you might be pregnant again?" Glinda broke off mid-sentence into her perplexed question. Elphaba took her chance and wriggled out of the other woman's grasp, getting to her feet with the fluid ease of the young that made Glinda jealous of the years she had regained.
"Glinda, what will Fiyero say? What if it's another girl? What if it has powers, what if it looks like her? He's barely spoken to me since…I don't know if he can do this again. I don't know if I can do this again. I don't even know if he still wants me...and I know where he's coming from."
"Elphie, that's—"
"I see her everywhere, Glinda!" Elphaba exclaimed "I see her in everything! In the trees, in paintings, in the spell books we read through together, in those bloody flowers that keep popping up—everything! I can barely look at Fiyero or Liir…and I didn't even meet her until she was all grown up! Fiyero raised her. This hurts too much Glinda…it just hurts too much…I can't go through that again, ever."
"Then what are you going to do? If you are pregnant?" Glinda asked her gently "Get rid of it?"
"NO!" Elphaba exclaimed sharply, apparently a little shocked at her own vehemence before deflating slightly in uncertainty "Maybe…I don't know…no. I couldn't do it. I don't know what I'm going to do. I can't go through that again, but I don't think I can give it up…how am I going to tell Fiyero?"
"How did you tell him before?" Glinda asked facetiously "Was it complicated? I believe all you have to say is three words, 'Fiyero, I'm—"
"Snarkiness doesn't become you." The green woman snapped. The blonde didn't bother pointing out the hypocrisy of this statement. She put a hand on the other woman's bony shoulder.
"Just tell him. Worst case scenario, you and I will take care of the kid. Liir didn't turn out too bad, did he?" she said, meaning every word of it. She hoped for the best, but should it not happen, well it would be nice to have a child running around the Palace again.
Elphaba put a hand over the one that her friend had on her shoulder gratefully. No matter what happened, her best friend had her back. It didn't make things perfect, but it did make them a little easier at least. She nodded.
"I'll make an appointment tomorrow." She said.
8888888
The outermost door leading to the South Stairs was strangely ordinary. Small too. Made mostly of heavy wood, it had strips of cast iron around the edges and down its length in three strips with another two across it width-wise. Liir was just in the process of studying all the different swirls and lines that the tree had left when it was dismantled when the door opened to reveal a pale, rodent-like man flanked by a pair of guards.
"Sire," he said sleekly with a sly little bow "I am Undermayor Chyde, Warden of the South Stairs. I believe you requested a visitation with one of our prisoners. Here is your lantern. Stay within sight of the guards. Do not go near the bars or talk with any prisoners aside from the one you are here to see. Do not speak your name, we have a few hedge-wizards in there."
Liir nodded, accepted the lantern and followed the guards. They went down a long set of twisting stone stairs, their surroundings getting progressively darker with the lanterns they held as the only source of illumination. The place was as nightmarish as he had always thought with manacles hanging from the walls alongside and in between the distantly spaced torches.
"How do you see down here?" Liir asked after a few minutes when they reached the bottom of the stairs and started navigating the tunnel-like corridors lined with occupied cells.
"You get used to the lighting." Chyde said in his oily voice "May I ask you a question of my own, my liege?"
Liir shrugged
"Why have you chosen to visit our humble abode? It I am not out of order." The under mayor asked sleekly
"It's just…something that I've been putting off for too long." Liir replied. "And something that I sort of owe someone."
The Warden shrugged and continued leading the way They seemed to be walking a very long time but finally they arrived at a large, heavy iron door with a circular wheel in the centre to open it like a vault. There were two torches on either side of the door that were much larger than the ones lining the walls of the prison and a lantern at the top of the door, providing excellent illumination for a good 10 feet around the door. There was no way the guards (both of whom were even larger than Liir and Chyde's escorts) would miss anything approaching this cell.
"Impressive." Liir commented as the Warden jingled his keys on approaching the door. The guards stood down as he did so.
"We have made some…renovations to our high-security cell since our special guests arrived." Chyde told him in that oily voice of his as he motioned for the two guards to open the vault-like door. It swung open slowly with a high-pitched drawn-out scream of metal as it went. Liir wondered if it was designed that way to make it even more difficult for anything to happen in that cell without an improvised alarm unintentionally sounding. Whether or not this was true wasn't Liir's primary thought for long as they entered.
Beyond the vault-like door was a large room with a section cordoned off by metal bars. The light was a great deal dimmer in this section, illuminated only by a lamp and leaving the prisoner in almost total darkness unless he had a visitor. On the outside of the bars, the one closest to the vault-door was a small, rickety wooden table with a wooden pitcher and chipped wooden cup on top of it as well as a basin of water. There was also a cabinet, though it couldn't immediately be seen what was inside. There was also a single chair made of sturdy wood with a cushion strapped to it.
Liir held his lantern up a little higher than eye-level and out towards the row of vertical iron bars that housed the prisoner he wanted to see. Sure enough there was someone there. The manacles attached to the wall were not in use but the huddled figure in there was attached to a large, heavy metal ball that was undoubtedly loud if dragged across the floor. At the moment this security measure was silent and immobile as the man connected to it (by what was also probably a heavy chain) didn't seem very interested in moving. He didn't even scratch at the specially designed collar around his neck which dampened his powers.
The once Great Mage Xorthion had changed a great deal in the months since Liir had seen him last. He couldn't see very much because of the shapeless rag he was wearing, but Liir was certain that he had lost weight. His hair was longer, shaggier and unkempt, making the other man doubt that it had seen a brush or comb since before his botched attempt at summoning the Time Dragon. His posture had also changed, and it was more than just his back being hunched over; his arms hung limply around his knees and his head leaned against the wall like it didn't have the strength required to hold it up. Just as he was being scrutinized the imprisoned man shifted listlessly, obliviously allowing the rag to slide a little to one side to reveal some of the bruises and cuts that seemed to adorn his raw skin. The movement and the sight of those discoloured patches made the visitor see that there were more on his neck and shoulders. There was also a bandage wrapped around at least one of his wrists, the other was not in view. Liir looked around sharply at the Warden who had accompanied him in simultaneous reproach and curiosity.
It didn't take much to tell what he was thinking and the warden shook his head.
"Spell applies to him, too, it seems," the man said "What you see he did to himself. All that we added were the bandages. He tried to slit his wrists first chance he got. Sharpened a rusted piece of metal. Apparently the spell the mage—pardon me, milord, your sister—used lets us rough them up if we're trying to save them, so some of the bruises are courtesy of his good attendants. Rest he did to himself."
"And you haven't been doing anything to stop it?" Liir enquired. The Warden's civility lapsed momentarily and some of the guards stiffened agressively.
"Why should we, milord?" He demanded "Thanks t'that witchcraft we might not be able to hurt him but that doesn't mean we have any sort of mushy feelings for the bastards!"
"Yet…you didn't let him kill himself?" Liir said, more of a statement than a question really. The Warden gave a nasty leer and the pair of guards exchanged hard, vicious smirks.
"That spell has a deadline. Soon as it's up, there'll be a lot for this war criminal to answer for. We're not about to let him take the easy way out. Thought you of all people would understand that, given what he's done. Even when it comes to yourself, milord."
Liir bridled a little at the implication that he cared only for his own personal revenge but could see their point. Even if he followed the other man's advice and only looked at what the wraith of a man who was their prisoner had done just to him and his own he felt his blood start to boil.
This man had betrayed his sister and killed Jack, a fine Animal whom he couldn't say he knew as well as he wanted to but had liked nonetheless. This man had orphaned Zach. This man had broken his sister's heart and nearly destroyed Liir's relationship with her. This man had tortured him. This man had eventually (however obliviously) driven a wedge between twins, or had in the very least been the cause of why Liir and Rhonaraye had not been on speaking terms at the time of her death. This man had caused his sister's death. This man was the reason for the mental agony that Liir was still feeling. He had every reason to hate him and he did. He hated all that he represented, all that Liir connected him with. He should be cheering him on in his suicide attempts, enjoy watching him rot, be handing him the tools with which to destroy himself…
But he couldn't.
Instead, Liir turned to the warden and guards.
"Leave us, please." He ordered politely. They didn't move. He clenched his teeth and sharpened his tone "What I have to discuss with this…mage is private. Besides, I am neither fragile nor weak and he is bound by the same spell that we are and couldn't harm me if he wanted to, not that it seems he is interested in much of anything," Liir spat out the last sentence bitterly. He did still hate Xorthion, after all.
The Warden and guards hesitated very little before they grudgingly turned around and left, closing the door behind them with a soft, echoing boom. Liir watched them go a minute to make sure that they had left before he carefully placed the somewhat heavy bag down against the wall and exchanged it for a chair in the corner. He pulled said chair over to the centre of the bars dividing the cell in two. He sat down on it and made himself as comfortable as he could on the hard, un-cushioned wood. He regarded the man huddled in his chains with contempt for a few moments.
"You bastard." Liir spat after about a minute. "You selfish, self-centered, ungrateful bastard!"
Xorthion—no, Liir reminded himself, Tristan—looked up slowly, his golden eyes lackluster and dull from grief and sunken into his head from partial starvation. He shook his head and held Liir's scornful gaze as he raised his bandaged arm.
"I-I tried." He croaked, indicating the bandaged wound "I tried…"
"You think that I want you dead?" his visitor demanded harshly. Tristan blinked in confusion and opened and closed his mouth a few times as he tried to get past this baffling thought
"Ye-yes…you should. I do." He rasped.
"Well, I don't." was the curt reply he received. The fallen mage frowned slightly and then a look of dawning comprehension lit across his features for a moment and he nodded.
"Ah, yes. You're right. I don't deserve such a quick end." He agreed as he turned his body away from the corner to sit and face his visitor. He seemed oddly energized by this thought as he settled himself into a cross-legged meditation pose with his hands resting lightly on his knees, palm up. Slowly, once he had settled himself, he allowed his head to fall forward in a submissive gesture and allowed his hands to slide off his knees to the floor, offering himself up.
"It is only fair," Tristan said without looking up, his voice still a hoarse croak. "I tortured you, after all."
Liir let out a scoffing noise almost identical to the one that he had heard his mother use when she was impatient and/or disgusted as he got to his feet and walked over to the small, rickety table on the opposite wall where a dirty pitcher and a clouded glass stood.
"You know that I won't be able to actually harm you for quite a while." Liir replied as he poured some of the water into the clouded glass.
"You can if you do it right!" Tristan exclaimed desperately as his head snapped up, the last word cracking on his parched vocal cords. "Every spell has loopholes! You just have to use your head you stupid lout! Allow an accident to happen with something flammable near my cell! Force-feed me! Drop that pitcher and then push something electrical into the puddle! It probably won't kill me if you spread out the charge enough! Give me something to make with nettles and I'll—"
"You really want to be punished, don't you?" Liir interrupted, if nothing else to stop the litany of creative ways to allow him to torture himself. He walked over to the bars and stuck one hand through, offering the prisoner the glass of water.
"Drink," he commanded "Come on. Now. If we're going to be carrying on a conversation you're going to need your voice, because I will not talk at you and I'm not leaving until we've had this conversation. Now drink and we'll be able to talk."
Slowly, hesitantly, Tristan crawled to his feet. He stood shakily and stumbled forward to the bars, his own leg tripping him up when he wasn't strong enough to drag the heavy ball attached to him through the equally heavy chain. He slopped a great deal of the liquid but still managed to drink a few sips, which he gagged. He downed a second cup with more ease. His guest nodded slightly in approval before glancing around. There was no chair in the prisoner's cell.
"Sit." Liir said. Tristan obeyed and as he did so Liir slowly eased himself to the floor so that they were on the same level. This appeared to confuse Tristan as his guest leaned his back against the chair and crossed his legs.
"I will ask them to bring a chair into your room." Liir stated candidly after a spell of silence "Nothing luxurious but you will at least be able to sit. I'll also see what I can do about a better blanket then whatever thing that is on the cot over there. Apart from its holes I think I just saw it move."
Tristan blinked, not quite comprehending what he was hearing, or rather, who he was hearing it from. Regardless of the look of shock on his face the other young man continued
"Then, maybe after a little while—if you behave yourself— I'll see about getting you a book or two, maybe. You won't be getting any magic but I might be able to scrounge a novel or two or even an old textbook on something harmless." Liir snorted "Chances are, you'll get a book of scriptures. They'll all be out to convert you. We can negotiate the lighting in here when we get to that bridge—"
"Why don't you hate me?" Tristan cut in, his eyes wide and his face as slack with shock as it might have been had Liir splashed a bucket of cold water in his face. The visitor's expression hardened and he clenched his teeth. His statements had been short, candid and straightforward, though laced with barely contained disdain, almost as though this were a chore he had resisted doing.
"Trust me," He growled at the man on the other side of the bars "I do."
"Then punish me, man! Punish me! Make me pay for what I've done!" Tristan yelled, the water having given his voice enough power for an increase in volume. His fervor made him leap to his feet and jump at the bars towards Liir, clutching the cold iron with his hands hard enough to drain whatever remaining colour was left from his knuckles. "I tortured you! I helped start a war! I betrayed the trust of everyone I knew! My only possible redeeming act was probably killing the Master who had my earliest claim to loyalty! I KILLED YOUR SISTER!"
"AND I HATE YOU FOR IT WITH ALL THAT I AM!" Liir bellowed in his face as he also grabbed the bars. Over the course of the Mage's outburst he had slowly risen to his feet so that they were once again level. Both men were breathing audibly after their shouting but it was Rhonaraye's brother who once again broke the silence
"But much as I'd like to, I can't torture you…and I can't leave you here to rot." He finally said. He grimaced, his injuries protesting the sudden movement as he sat back in the chair, moving with a practised ease into a casual, princely lounge that didn't make his body hurt too much. Tristan just gawked at him.
"Why?" he demanded "I would!"
"Someone didn't believe that. Someone thought that, maybe, just maybe, there was some good buried deep down inside of you that was worth salvaging. She's the reason I'm here, not you."
Tristan's face fell in a look of such agonizing grief that it looked as though it might tear him apart. And that was exactly what it was doing. The grief was driving the guilt that made him so desperately seek out punishment. He stumbled back and nearly tripped over the ball before making it to the wall and leaning his forearm against it, pressing his forehead into the stone.
"It should have been me." He whispered hoarsely "Not her, not that suffering. Not that pain. Not her, never! Never her…Never…"
"No argument here." Liir said darkly "But…neither of us could stop her. No one could once she'd set her mind to it. You and I both know that. We both knew her, both thought that we could predict her and both found out how arrogant we were. The hard way."
Tristan thumped his forehead against the wall with a soft sob.
"I can't live with this…" he shuddered tearfully.
"It's not easy," the other man agreed "Living with the knowledge that someone died for you. Knowing that it's because of you that they're gone, feeling unworthy of this gift they've given you without your consent."
"It's different for you!" Tristan snarled, his fist clenching further "You didn't kill her! If I'd never tried that spell…"
"Then she wouldn't be dead, you're right. She also wouldn't be dead if she hadn't loved me and Zach and our parents and Candle, either! She wouldn't be dead if we'd paid attention to the warning signs, if we'd managed to stop her, if we'd done a lot of things and would still be here if she hadn't had such a dammed martyr complex!"
"I should have stopped her…"
"You might have been able to if you had taken her offer and left instead of being so stuck on revenge! The fact is, we didn't stop her. We can't change anything now. So you know what? The least you can do is live with that guilt, dammit! And I mean it's the least! You know what, how dare you? How dare you try and throw your life away when she died to give it to you? You ungrateful bastard."
"She didn't die for me you ignorant brat!" Tristan raged "She knows that my life is nothing without her! She is the only one I have ever loved and will ever love! She is the only one who ever loved me! No, she died for you and th-that-that Mule and the rest of the ungrateful selfish horde who saw her as nothing but a cursing weapon!"
The mage was panting slightly by the time he finished his outraged rant. Liir said nothing throughout it and listened silently. Once the other man was done he leaned in even more, his nose pressing through the gaps between bars
"I'm her brother, you son of a bitch. I felt her die." He snarled "I loved her, too. We were connected and she was a part of me. Now I live with both the knowledge and memory of how painful those last moments were for her and the daily agony of that gaping open wound in my head from where our connection was ripped apart! We both made mistakes, you and I, but don't you dare say that I didn't love her!"
Tristan turned slightly and searched his gaze a moment, shaking his head slightly in confusion. He still didn't understand.
"Why are you here?" he asked in a whisper. Liir let out a deep breath and took a step back.
"I already told you, my sister loved you." He said, retaking his seat, "I don't know why, but the fact is that she did. Enough that she couldn't ignore it, enough to sneak off to see you, enough to kill for you…alright, let me explain it this way." He sat down in his chair and leaned toward him, talking with his hands a little as he spoke.
"We've all made mistakes," he said. As he began to speak Tristan sat down, like a pupil listening to a teacher. Liir continued "We've established that. We've all done things we aren't proud of and things that we probably didn't think we would have ever even dreamt of doing before this war started. Rhonaraye had done her share of shameful things—don't interrupt!—She did and she felt guilt for it. We're all looking for redemption. For penance. She sought hers through her…death. You, my friend, are going to seek yours through living. She loved you, Tristan. She loved you more deeply than I think any of us could have guessed. Not only that, but she could have fed you to the dragon. He would have taken her anyway to satisfy his thirst for the blood of both worlds but she could have given him you for the magic component of the sacrifice if she had wanted to. She didn't. She must have thought that there was something in you worthy of that chance at redemption. Something worth salvaging."
Liir ended his speech on that statement and said no more, waiting for the impact of what he had said to sink in. Tristan didn't say anything. He just stared at him. That was enough for one day, he supposed and the visitor got to his feet with a slight wince and made his way stiffly over to the door. He stopped there before opening it and bent down to carefully retrieve the only item in the satchel. When he turned around Tristan could see that he held a simple clay pot in his hands containing a small, planted cutting of a rosebush. There was a single, small bud remaining of the flowers that the plant proudly boasted. Even in the poor light the prisoner recognised it.
It was a Scarlet Mage.
The flower he had created.
Rhonaraye's flower.
Their flower.
Liir walked back to the bars and knelt down to where a few of the iron rods were placed on a hinge through which food trays were usually slid. He opened it and carefully pushed the pot through. Neither man looked at one another as this happened. Instead, they both stared at the fragile little plant. Tristan didn't know this, but Liir had found it near the site of the battle; frail and struggling to survive amongst the carnage that still polluted that area. The other man had tears in his eyes again as he reached a trembling hand towards the plant and lifted the clay container. He held it close to him and embedded a finger in the cool, moist soil to feel the earth between his fingers again.
Liir cleared his throat uncomfortably.
"Starting today you'll see me once a month, every month. Stay on your best behaviour or I'll hear about it." He told the man in the cell gruffly without looking him in the eye. He stood again and headed for the door. Just as he opened it Tristan looked up from his gift.
"Wait," He pleaded. His visitor paused with his hand poised on the handle, the heavy wooden door open.
"What's yours? What are you doing…for redemption? For her? What's your…task? "
Liir smiled ever so slightly to himself as he huffed a little and turned back to the prisoner.
"I would have thought that was obvious." He said. When Tristan didn't answer he elaborated,
"You are."
He left and shut the door behind him.
888888888888888888888888
"All packed?" Glinda asked as she and Liir came down the steps of the Emerald Palace. Fiyero and Elphaba had few possessions, especially for a couple about to ascend to royalty. Etween Elphaba's characteristic austerity and disinterest in fashion and Fiyero's decades as a scarecrow they had very few articles of clothing to pack. Most of their luggage came in the form of the Green Witch's library and supplies for the monkeys. The Witch turned from securing her trunk of magic supplies to the back of the coach and nodded.
"Came to see you off." Liir said.
"Ooh, are you sure you must leave now?" Glinda half-whined "Your parents' are in reasonable health, the Vinkus doesn't need a prince and princess right now! Stay longer, what about a honeymoon?" the blonde took her friend's hands in her own and swung them childishly a moment, her thumb sliding over the ring on her friend's left ring-finger. Elphaba smiled slightly. She was almost glowing.
"It's fine, Glinda. We had a few days." She said.
"I still say you should have let me plan the wedding! You could have at least given me a few days' notice instead of waking me up in the middle of the night!" The blonde pined. "I wasn't even in my best gown!"
"We wanted it small. Private. We didn't want a spectacle." Elphaba reminded her. Fiyero leaned over from his position on the roof as she said this and they exchange a sedately happy glance with one another. Three nights ago they had woken Glinda, Ijiri, Liir, Candle and Zach and taken them to the courthouse where they exchanged vows in front of a Priest who had qualifications as a judge. Glinda had been thrilled to be the maid of honor, but was smarting that she hadn't been able to throw one of the massive parties she so adored.
"But can't you stay a little longer?" she asked again.
"If we wait much longer we'll get snowed out of the Vinkus." Fiyero said "It's better if we travel before winter."
"Besides," Elphaba added, a hand going to her abdomen "It's better if I travel sooner rather than later."
While she was not yet noticeably showing, there was no longer any doubt that there would soon be a new heir to the Vinkus throne. Elphaba had finally seen a physician who had confirmed her suspicion. Breaking the news to Fiyero had not been as bad as she had thought, though it had not been what Glinda had hoped for. He had said very little at the time and then spoken to no one for days. After his third day of self-imposed silence he had gone to the Witch's chambers. They had stayed in there together for a very long time and after they emerged the couple were once again joined at the hip. The offer from the Vinkus had arrived shortly after. Now the newlyweds were headed to Fiyero's homeland to take their position as crowned Prince and Princess.
Glinda sighed dramatically and nodded in an overly-dramatic, tragic way.
"I suppose I shall be left here all on my own, nary a person to talk to…" she sighed
"You have the mirror." Ijiri teased gruffly as he came up behind her. She gave him an affectionately annoyed back-handed slap to the chest. He laughed good-naturedly and put an arm around the blonde's shoulders. She quirked an eyebrow and shook her head, giving him a peck on the cheek before noticing something over to the side. She clicked off to tell someone off about their choice of tack for the horses. Something about it being a 'clashing colour'. The others watched her charge off with smiles and shakes of their heads.
"I'd better go head her off before we have a scene on our hands." Ijiri said as he jogged off after his lover. Liir watched him until he and Glinda were both out of earshot and returned his attention to his parents. It was still so strange, seeing them. He and his father really did resemble each other in human form, it appeared. They didn't exactly look like father and son, though. Not with the youthful appearance that both of his parents now possessed. Physically he and his parents were only a few years apart now thanks to the Fountain of Youth. And people had thought their family couldn't get any more...unique. As strange as it was around them, however, this was what he had wanted since he'd found out about his mother's recent pregnancy: a moment of privacy with his parents. It was not he who spoke first, though.
"Are you sure you won't come with us?" Fiyero asked him. Liir shook his head.
"No." He said "I have to stay here. We have a lot of work to do in 10 years here. Having someone of Grandfather's line working with Glinda will help with some of the snobbier politicians." Liir's face fell as did his tone at the mention of his grandfather. He had been so caught up in grief for his friends and sister that he sometimes forgot that his grandfather was gone too. They hadn't exactly been on speaking terms when he died, but the old man had meant a great deal to Liir. His mother might not know how to feel about the Wizard, but Liir mourned him.
"You're always welcome in the Vinkus. You are my firstborn, after all." Fiyero said with a half-hearted half-smile on his face. This was another point that Liir wanted to talk to them about, he hoped it wouldn't be one of contention.
"About the throne, Father, would there be problems if I abdicated my claim to it?" he asked "I don't want it. I'll be having my fill of politicians in the next decade."
"There might be some arguments, but we'll handle it, son
"You don't have to do this." Elphaba said, her protestation out of some strange form of perceived obligation rather than the intention of stopping him. Again her son shook his head
"No, I really do. She did what she did to give us this chance, and a she wasn't the only one to sacrifice her life for the future. I…I owe to all of them. Nari, Akota, Ralimla, everybody. I'm better used here where I can help make sure that it wasn't completely pointless." He said, almost as though he were convincing himself of his self-appointed mission. He looked up warily to gauge his parents' reaction. To his relief he saw understanding there. But now it was nearly time for them to part. His mother stepped forward and embraced him. She said nothing, but didn't really have to. Fiyero hopped down and clapped his shoulder in a friendly way with a smile on his face as Glinda came bustling over and clamped her arms around Elphaba with a squeal that mentioned something about her not wanting the green woman to go. It took a few minutes to disentangle the blonde from her best friend long enough to get the green witch into the carriage with her husband. Elphaba leaned out the open window to look down at them, smiling thinly at Liir.
"Do I have to tell you to watch yourself, or are you too old for that?" She asked jokingly with a sort of parental nostalgia. Liir was very serious, however, and seized the opportunity to spit out what he had wanted to mention to them initially.
"Mother, about the baby," He began, "If it's a girl…a second chance isn't a do-over. Don't—"
"We weren't going to." Elphaba said, cutting him off kindly, taking his hand. "We already discussed it. She'll have her own name and will be her own person. She's no replacement. We've already made that decision."
Liir felt strangely relieved at this and squeezed his mother's hand.
"Safe journey." He said. She nodded and they released hands, the witch resting her forearm on the ledge of the carriage window as the driver took off. She waved to Glinda, who was waving a handkerchief and sniffling and to Candle and Zach, standing at the stairs to the palace and waving politely at the couple. She nodded to them and then looked around at the courtyard. There were so many memories in this place, many of them from her dark days as a prisoner behind these walls. Yet, she no longer felt the deep, burning hatred for the place that she had cultivated so ardently for so long. It was strange, like a weight had been lifted. It had been a very comforting weight, but a weight nonetheless. Elphaba felt Fiyero gently put a hand on her leg and ducked her head under the window to look at him.
The green woman put a hand over her husband's and withdrew a little green bottle from the folds of her skirts. She looked at it a moment and then replaced it as she looked at Fiyero. He looked back and squeezed her hand.
"Nervous?" he asked her
"A bit." She admitted "I've never been very loveable to the public, you have to admit." She said, one hand subconsciously going to her belly to indicate another worry that she had. Fiyero pulled her close to him.
"Everything will work out. You'll see." He said, echoing a statement he'd made decades ago after she'd told him of her first pregnancy. Their world had made such drastic, unbelievable changes since then. They'd been parents, lost each other for years, found each other again, fought wars, lost a child. They weren't in hiding anymore and were going to become monarchs. But none of these struck Elphaba as the most peculiar difference between this time he comforted her with such a phrase and the last time.
The strangest difference was that this time, oddly enough, she believed him.
AAANNNDDD We're done! That's it!
Now, as promised, I'd like to give a great big shout out to everybody who stuck with me through this monster of a fanfic and kept reading and reviewing! You are all awesome! Especially all those who were there right from the very beginning (and there were some of you! You are particularly incredible!) .
Now, on the matter of a sequel.
On my profile page under the section of my up-coming works I have a sequel for this posted and I do have ideas for it. However, this seems like a good ending to me. So , as usual, I would like some feedback. I'll put the same request up on my profile but what do you guys think; sequel or no?
Once again, thanks so much to everyone who stuck with me.
And with that, it is finished!
