Dilemma: Maie's mom? She isn't supposed to know. She's lost her mom, and her horse, and her. . . everything.
Icekube: Hehe. Thanks! I'm flattered. Oh, Maie hasn't done much to be admired about right now. She will though. Just read on!
Tessabe: Yep, she has a backbone. . . but enough to be his match?
Jezebel: Eeee! So sorry! Heh, think this is bad? Daëmor is gonna get worse.
Wizard116: yay! Thank you!
Moondance K'Treva: Yep, she's up and fighting. She's always been a fighter, maybe too awe-struck before, but now she's up and fighting!
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Okay so sorry, just got back home, switched on the computer, and went to work: ). Sorry it took so long! But it's extra long! So read, enjoy and once again, pleeaaaaase review! I'm addicted to reviews now. . .
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Daëmor stared for a moment, in something that Maie hoped was shock but couldn't quite tell. Maybe it was anger, or maybe it was amusement. Maie didn't know. Even his mindspeech was bland and unflavored, save for the darkness he carried wherever he went.
:Very well. I shall tell you now.:
She waited, half in anticipation and half in fear. Did she really want to know? She had thought so. She wasn't so certain now. Either way, she had no choice. Tossing her head in a gesture of defiance and a fast-waning strength, she gestured at the companion to go on.
It matters not what he says, she ordered herself silently, it matters not how scared you are you will not cry. You will not let him know.
:I did not lie. I have told no lies to you as yet. I am a companion. My name is Daëmor. Previously, that was all that was needed to be known. Now is a different matter.
:There is but one dark companion in all of Valdemar. Only one, for it goes against the very essence of a companion. A companion lives on good, drinks in the warmth of love and the light of goodness. The dark companions, they feed on fear. The fear of the innocent.:
Stand tall, stand proud, she commanded silently, goddamn it you will not crumble. Even if your dreams are shattered and shredded and torn you will not crumble.
"Go on," she snarled instead. It was so much easier to use hate to cover despair. She had lost so much. She who had everything to gain had instead lost everything there was.
:The dark companions are called only if there is the direst of need. Many a war, for instance, or for a greatly needed assassination. Good cannot combat evil alone. Alone, it is not powerful enough to withstand the eroding tides of wickedness before the final, destroying wave engulfs it. No. It takes evil to know evil, and as such it takes evil to battle it. There is no such thing as a pure companion of darkness. There is no such thing as a pure dark herald.:
Maie tensed to keep herself from trembling. She paled but tossed her head in defiance. Her courage withered but her pride held strong. There was nothing he could do to bring her down. There was nothing he could do to force her to her knees. It was not a matter of dreams anymore; it was not a matter of fly or fall. She had fallen. And she knew it. She was one of the fallen. But there was nothing he could do to make her collapse. Not in front of him. Even when her hopes and very self had been rendered into a million shards of lost dreams, she would not collapse in front of him.
She kept her composure and with it her pride. If nothing else, she had her pride. And she had nothing else, but for her pride. But her pride she was keeping. Her pride would see her through this. Her pride would never belong to him.
:The dark companion is only called when the need is dire. There is reason for that. Valdemar was born out of morals, and a land of morals it remains. The dark companion requires a sacrifice no ruler can lightly make. A sacrifice that would haunt the king or queen of Valdemar until their day's end.:
Daëmor stared at Maie and she knew even before he said it what the sacrifice was.
:The dark companion will always require the sacrifice of an innocent. An innocent such as yourself.:
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The Queen had gotten up for the fifth time, just to pace across the bedroom restlessly before diving under the comfort of her blankets to pray for sleep to claim her this time. But the comforting embrace of her goose-feather quilt was empty to her. Empty and meaningless.
What had she done? Was she right? Was she wrong? What choice had she had?
None, she knew, and yet that helped not at all. She was a herald, damn it, even before she was a Queen, she was a herald. It was her job to protect the innocent, and yet she had just condemned one to something worse than death.
A dark herald was dead because she had nothing that classified her as living. Her heart beat, yes, and her lungs functioned easily, but there was no mind, no emotion, no soul.
Yes. A dark herald had no soul.
When a herald died, he was given a choice. To live in eternal peace, or to return to protect Valdemar. A dark herald had no such choice. A dark herald would not even see the face of her creator.
Her body would be taken and her soul held captive and forgotten. She would never meet Lord Death, would never feel the peace and the beauty of the peace. Would never feel the cooling strength of Death's lips upon her brow, would never realize that Death was no enemy.
No. She would live in eternal damnation, forced forever into torment, a soul without anywhere to go, without anything to be.
And that was something that was unforgivable. It may be necessary, but it was unforgivable.
The Queen gazed back at the warmth of her bed. She was not deserving of it.
:Chosen, there was nothing else to do. None can blame you for it.:
Her companion's tone was flavored with compassion, with love, and yet with much sorrow. And she knew that the deed hurt him more than she could ever know. That the companion would bear his grief for eternity and more.
:None can blame me: she replied, sorrow shared, :none but myself.:
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Maie set her chin and let fire light in her eyes.
"Try it," she snarled savagely, aware that it was only hate that was giving her strength, "there will be no sacrifice."
Daëmor cast amused eyes upon her.
:Oh, but there will. There shall be no death, but yet there shall be sacrifice. It is the price the Queen has to pay for her people. It is a price you have to pay. You, the Queen's one expediency.:
And inside she was screaming, in anger, in fear, in hate and horror. And she felt her walls crumbling from inside out.
No, you will not fall, not now.
No, she still had pride. Even as tears pricked the edges of her eyes, she fought them back. She still had pride. She still had herself, and she still had pride.
"I can fight. I will fight. But I will not become a dark herald. You cannot make a dark herald. You cannot make me one of them."
Pride rang pure in her voice as she spoke. There was no tremble, nothing but confidence. She was Maie. She was fire and she was light. She was hope and she was dreams. She could not be succumbed by darkness. Her flare of life shone bright in the blackest of black.
:Yet you will be.:
"I said once again that no I will not. You cannot make me."
He could not make her. She, who was vibrant with life and light. She was Maie. He could not make her, with the strong chin and wild, laughing hair. Her, with the fiery eyes and indomitable spirit. Her, who could not be conquered. Her, who would not be conquered. No, she could never be one of them.
She laughed, and maybe there was bitterness in it, but there was also challenge. And challenge was hope. Challenge was dreams.
She was Maie. She was a fighter. She would fight.
"Oh, you bastard. Oh, you think that you can take any young girl from her home and use your influence to have her believe that you are a companion. You think that you can just come in a rip apart her dreams, her hopes. You think that you can destroy me. You think that you can use me up and toss me aside. You are so wrong you don't know me and damn if I will ever be used by a piece of shit like yourself!"
The damning, quiet tone she started with shifted with the hatred she felt, and she caught her voice rising to just under a scream.
"No," she whispered, harsh and dangerously soft, "no, my soul is mine. I am mine. You'll never be able to use me."
Anger held her spine straight. Pride kept her eyes burning on his. She would not cry or crumble. She was larger than life.
Tension, quite tension, filled the air. Amusement left Daëmor's eyes, replaced by wary darkness.
:So you think: he sneered softly, :so you think.:
And all at once Maie was rocked with an image. The Yaéna as she once was, full of courage and fight, and the Yaéna as she was after, flat, hooded eyes and limp hair. The Ley as she once was, full of laughter, and as she was now, transforming before her eyes. The Maie she could not imagine without her fire, distant and empty and filled with nothingness.
They could not fight him. Neither could she.
Courage deserted her. Pride rocked back in fear. Anger gave way to despair.
Tears trickled down, unstoppable.
No.
She turned. Turned and fled. Fled, away into the forests beyond.
