It's been forever since I've written on fanfiction. However, I've decided my middle school years deserved a bit more gratitude and I've come back to relive them... by starting yet ANOTHER story. At this point, don't expect updates on the other stories; its highly unlikely I'll try and finish them. I reread a couple a minute ago and I couldn't bring myself to feel the same passion for them I once did. So instead, I think I'll write a simple oneshot and leave it at that.
Check my bio for any further information or questions. If you still have some, leave it in the pms or reviews.
This story is my first SA story in the longest time, so I may be rusty on the characters. However, they were pretty unforgettable, so I highly doubt I'll have problems.
Conor watched the sunset over the hill, standing in his mother's old room. It had been seven years since she died. Every year, he'd come back to the house to mourn his dead family.
Ever since he was eleven, he'd been in countless wars. One took his family, one took his friends, and one took his spirit animal.
Without Briggan, Conor felt useless. He felt weak and small again, like he did when he was eleven.
The Greencloaks had singlehandedly taken everything from him.
He stared at his skin, blank where Briggan's tattoo used to be. And that's how he felt inside- blank.
Life no longer had much of a purpose anymore.
Rollan and Meilin got married six months ago and were now ruling over Zhong. Abeke stayed with the Greencloaks, doing the important quests Conor would've been doing a year ago.
He resigned a year ago.
He felt that he could no longer provide the help the Greencloaks needed. So ironically, he was both the first to join and first to resign.
The others tried to talk him out of it. Told him it wouldn't be the same without him.
They lied.
Conor clenched his fists, tears welling in his eyes.
The last thing they told him before he left was Briggan's death wasn't a big enough deal to leave the Greencloaks.
They lied. They lied, again and again. They lied about everything. They were liars.
Conor let out a shaky breath, watching the last of the sun tip below the hill.
He missed Briggan. Ever since Briggan's death, Conor felt like a hole replaced his heart. He didn't care about anyone or anything anymore. If he died, he would be just fine with it.
He was starting to scare himself.
If he wasn't afraid of death, what was he afraid of?
The question had remained unanswered for over a year.
Conor had faced a lot of things in his youth, but nothing quite hurt him like this. Not even close.
Every morning he woke up, hoping it was just a long nightmare, only to spot Briggan's missing tattoo. Every night he sat down for dinner, only to stare at Briggan's food bowl, empty and deserted. Every day he felt like a knife was ripping through his heart, again and again...
And he did nothing to stop it. Nothing to even try and feel something good again.
He couldn't remember feeling anything good at all.
He knew he had. Of course he had! Everyone had. But he couldn't remember it. He couldn't taste the warm splash of laughter, or the comforting feeling of joy, or even just the calming sensation of peace.
He only felt sad, scared, alone.
Numb.
Sometimes he bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. He wondered if the pain would cause an emotional reaction in him. It never did.
Sometimes he went weeks without eating. He wondered if the hunger would cause something in him to stir. Something, anything...
It never did.
He was numb, and he was stuck numb. He couldn't fix. He didn't want to try. Because numb felt so much better than pure misery. The kind he'd felt right as Briggan died.
He never wanted to feel that again.
And if that meant never feeling anything again, then so-be-it.
His thoughts no longer filled his mind. They only echoed off the emptiness every so often, whenever he got lucky enough to put a thought together.
War had earned him nothing but pain. Physical, emotional, mental; any kind. You name it, Conor had felt it.
All thanks to war.
Abeke pretended she was okay.
Even when the other Greencloaks knew she wasn't, she still put on a brave face and pretended like she was just fine.
She may still have her spirit animal, but it didn't make her feel anymore fulfilled than Conor. Every day was the same. Every night ended the day the same. The sun would rise and the sun would fall.
It was the safety of her life she despised.
She hadn't felt much more than bordeom for the past few years. The people she was romantically interested in were far better off dead than dating anyone, and her only friends had all left her.
After Conor left, Meilin and Rollan preached a lot about the three of them sticking together.
You can imagine Abeke's face when she woke up one morning to an indirect message about the two running off to get married.
At least Conor said a proper goodbye.
Most of the Greencloaks Abeke worked with were new. Abeke had no interest in making new friends after all her last ones abandoned her.
They were nice and all, but Abeke had found that people were quite unreliable, so she didn't bother with them.
They'd tried to get closer to her, but she refused to interact with them too much during work, much less after.
Abeke was choosing to be lonely. And she chose this because it was far better to be lonely, than to feel the heartshattering disappointemnt of betrayal.
So Abeke would stay lonely until she died, and she would be okay with that.
Rollan didn't realize how terrible Meilin truly was until the honeymoon effect wore off.
He always knew she could be mean, but he didn't realize just how mean until he was living with her.
She treated Rollan like a dog... if you could even say that.
And Rollan was fed up with it.
After two months of bad treatment, he found himself a random girl to have an affair with, purely to spite Meilin.
Needless to say, when she found out, she was angry.
She screeched at him, telling him to leave her castle.
Now here he stood, head on guillotine.
She charged him for war crimes after planting a false note in his mistress' house. He got to watch her head roll the same way his was about to.
Meilin had told him it was a mistake to mess with her, but he wouldn't realize just how big of a mistake it was until his head was on a platter.
Meilin may have had everything she thought she wanted, but she was still unsatisfied.
Why? It was more pressure than she had imagined.
The people hated her. Called her slurs and horrific things every time she tried to speak publicly. Her own staff tried to poison her multiple times, only for Meilin to see through them and have them executed. And now, her own husband, the one person that was supposed to be there for her, was entertaining an affair.
She had him executed, only to make a special request.
"Execute me, as well."
Hmmmm... might've made Meilin out to be the bad guy more than I was trying to. But either way, I think this came out rather well and I hope you guys enjoy it. This is likely my last SA story, but if you guys want more oneshots (I can't entertain a fullfledged SA story rn) then I'll try and write some more. Thanks for reading!
~Lace