Nothing for Tears
The Lily of Remembrace
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She sits, still and white as the lily blooms which lie scattered about her feet, and she weeps.
Hands, maidenly but strong, wrap themselves round the scrap of parchment, smooth nails biting into smoother flesh, until drop by drop, her blood falls to her snowy mantle.
No sound, no bemoaning of fate escapes her, but her grief coils around her heart, seeping through her blood, burning in her tears.
And she remembers…
A boy, not yet grown to adulthood, his golden hair lifted in a faint breeze, sitting in the branches of a mighty tree, laughter at his siblings' play lighting his eyes…
A calm voice amid the howling of the winds as he coaxed the stragglers on, urging them across yet another treacherous mile of ice, although his eyes were turned ever back…
But he is no more, for the shadow has taken him.
Blood of her blood.
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