Disclaimer: Don't own em, don't want to own em, except maybe Legs in that leather shoulder armor from TTT. Elves in leather… .MMMMmmmmm.
Uhm… I know this is late and I know I suck. Sorry. Real life and all that.
The next one won't be nearly as long in coming since I already have about 1/3 of that one already written.
Thanks to Al for much needed beta, and to Jasta for the baby's name. Forgot to mention that last time.
Oh… and my reviewers rock. All of them. Including the one that called me a sick freak. I giggled about that for hours afterwards.
It was a much needed healing sleep that Legolas slept, but there was no rest to be found. Flame and shadow danced on the back of his lids, the red and black coloring his dreams in shades of urgency and fear. Something was wrong somewhere. Somehow he knew deep inside that there was danger.
The blonde head tossed first one direction, then the other, and then jerked upright as a noise penetrated through the darkness that filled his thoughts.
Legolas opened his eyes to find himself propped nude in the great bed, the room empty. A small gasp escaped his lips as he realized where he was, and then a small sigh as he remembered what had come to pass. He blinked in the firelight as he raised a hand to press on what had been his swollen abdomen.
His abdomen was still distended, but not to the extent it had been before. And it felt strangely empty. He shook his head as he realized that he missed the constant feeling of movement that had become so much a part of him.
It was at that moment that he realized that he was not alone.
Next to him in the bed rested the child. Her small limbs pumped with great energy as she fought to kick off her swaddling clothes. She grunted with the effort as her legs flailed almost uncontrollably. He winced at the memory of those small feet pummeling him from the inside. ::I don't miss THAT feeling.::
The room was cold, he realized. Very cold. And as he shivered in the chill air, he realized how much colder it must be for her. Hesitantly, he reached and tried to pull the blankets back over her.
She froze for a moment, and then her body stiffened as she felt the blankets go on again. With a mewling sound of protest she began to kick harder. She sounded for all the world like an enraged kitten. He smiled despite himself.
He watched her struggle and felt his smile grow wider. It seemed she was much like him in so many ways, more ways than he would like to admit. He knew already that she wouldn't give up until the blankets were down to her feet. She didn't care that she would be cold after she'd removed the offending items, just as long as she got them off. She'd deal with the rest later. Yes, entirely too much like him for his comfort.
Legolas leaned forward and covered her again, this time pulling the blankets up higher, making it more difficult for her to thrust them off.
Luthiél paused for a moment, her small mouth pursed in what he thought might be confusion, or perhaps frustration. He would be frustrated in her place. He was frustrated in his place, too. He absently ran a finger down her arm, feeling the satiny smoothness of her skin and wondering at how small and helpless she was, but so strong at the same time.
She then leaned her head back and began to wail, her back arching up, the sound echoing off the walls.
Surprised, Legolas bolted to the far side of the bed and watched the child with wide eyes. He then groaned as his abused muscles gave a delayed reaction and protested the sudden movement. ::Surely I should be well healed by now. Perhaps my strength is still sapped from her taking it into herself.:: He narrowed his eyes at the child. ::She has taken everything from me. I have nothing left to give.::
No sooner was his thought finished then he was filled with shame. ::She has done nothing to me and does not deserve my rancor. I can think of others much more deserving of my ill will.:: He closed his eyes and shook his head, overcome by the feelings of guilt from resenting a babe.
The screams intensified, going from a thin wail to a full blown howl. Legolas cringed, turned his head away from her and covered his ears. He glimpsed the rags he had been sleeping on and winced. The sight of blood had never affected him before, but the fact that it was his and there was so much of it must have made a difference. He felt queasy and weak at the same time.
Luthiél screamed louder, making a sharp pain shoot behind his eyes. He shook his head and covered his face with his hands. The wailing paused as the babe breathed in deeply, but then continued stronger than before. Legolas could feel his hands shake as he began to thread his fingers through the long strands of his hair and unconsciously twist and pull what he grasped.
"Any minute now, they will come bursting through that door to take care of whatever need it is you have," He whispered quietly to himself, or perhaps to the child who steadfastly ignored him and continued to scream. "Any minute now. They know that I don't know what to do with you, or even want to know what to do with you."
He shivered on the far side of the bed and waited as the cold seeped into his bones. "Any minute now." But there was no response, no Valda bustling through the door to make the child stop screaming, no Clotild or Lanelese to sweep the baby up and away from him so he could rest.
He turned his eyes back to the baby again. "Luthiél'", the name stuck in his throat for a moment -- painful memories of the one who bore the name before -- but he swallowed down the lump. "Luthiél, I don't know what you want. I don't speak your language." He laughed bitterly to himself at the thought that she might be screaming to him some arcane instructions in some common language that all children were born with, but then forgot as they grew. He then painfully crawled forward, coming face to face with his daughter.
Her eyes were blue, as blue as his, as blue as his father's. The hair was dark and silky, but seemed to be lighter than the last time he'd seen her. Delicate ears came to small points, hidden under hair that he halfway suspected would soon be a dark blonde, and the lips were like small pink petals. She was beautiful. Terrifying, but beautiful.
Legolas leaned forward and gingerly touched the small face with a finger, trying to calm her. Luthiél's face was hot with screaming and almost burned the pads on his fingers. He traced the roundness of a cheek and followed it down to the folds of neck. Everything about her was so small and so delicate, so very helpless. "Quiet. Just until they get here, little one. I don't know what to do to help you." He traced his finger over her lips and made a shushing sound to soothe her. His look of confusion changed to one of surprise when the child began to suck vigorously on his extended finger, small sounds of contentment escaping the back of her throat. .
"Are you hungry?" He asked the question as if expecting a response. After a moment he shook his head in disgust at his own stupidity as he realized what exactly it was that she wanted. He flinched and pulled his finger from the small mouth. The baby craned her neck and began to scream again, even more heartily this time.
Legolas' entire body shook as he buried his face in his hands. Peering from between his fingers at the small figure that still kicked frantically while she screamed her rage at the world, he knew exactly what she wanted. And he knew what such a thing would cost him. It was a price he was unwilling to pay. Not for Aragorn, not for anyone. Not even for the small child that wailed in front of him.
The door was still shut, and there was still silence behind it. And Legolas was alone in the room with the one creature he feared more than any Mirkwood spider or Balrog.
"I'm sorry!" He sobbed. "I don't know what you want. I don't know how to give it to you." He knew that he was lying.
Tears fell down the small red cheeks and onto the mattress as Luthièl continued to wail. She knew the truth.
Legolas gave a growl of frustration and then leaned forward over the child, his hair falling around both their faces like a golden screen, the firelight dappling it with shadow and shade. "What do you want from me?" Luthièl hiccupped for a moment as she watched the light play on the long hair, and moved in spasmodic motions as if to grasp the tresses and yank them. "Am I not to have anything of myself left? Can you not leave some small part of me intact? Must everything that I am be taken away?" She skillfully ignored his questions, her small whimpers making his heart ache almost as much as the feeling of despair that caused his voice to hitch.
Legolas sat up and pulled his hair behind his ears and winced as Luthièl began to wail again.
Arms crossed over his chest, he fixed the infant with a hard eye. "No. I can't. I won't. You can't make me do this. You'll have to find some other way." He straightened his shoulders and made to turn his back to her.
The babe snuffled for a moment and made a gurgling sound so different from her screams that Legolas looked back to her without thinking. Her struggles had been successful and the blankets now pooled around her small feet. He shivered in the chill room, and then put his hand to his face and shook his head. "Why? Why am I so worried that you might die? I have brought forth a mortal, and you will wither and die before my eyes. You were born to die, be it now or in years. Why should I care?"
She gurgled again and then whimpered. He could feel something in his chest rip, almost as if he could feel his heart breaking. He sighed, placed his hands under her arms and clumsily picked her up, treating her as though she were made of spun glass. Her head flopped awkwardly as he lifted her up and looked into her eyes.
He gazed at her for what seemed an eternity, even to him. Some small part of him, something buried deep within, something he never knew existed, seemed to stir as he stared into the eyes that were so young and yet so old at the same time. He shook his head, trying to deny what he felt. "I care. How could I not? But if not for you, I would already be gone from here. What say you to that?" He said it without heat or rancor, but still felt the overwhelming sense of guilt rise up again.
She blinked back at him, her legs kicking as she hung there from his hands. Almost as if answering him, she cooed.
After a long moment, he awkwardly gathered her into his arms and cradled her against his tender breasts.
She cried for moment and then began to root desperately for the nipple that she knew was there, that she could smell. When she found it she latched on, causing Legolas to cry out softly in a strange mixture of pleasure and pain. As she began to suckle he gently stroked her face. "Don't get too comfortable with this, little one. I'm still not convinced that this is the best solution for our problem."
She grumbled back at him, much too involved in her meal to pay heed to his doubts. Her small hand twined itself into a lock of his hair and seemed to brush it back and forth across her face as she vigorously suckled.
After she had finished nursing from both breasts, she then yawned and fell asleep in his arms. He held her there, unsure of what to do next, and then gently laid her down where she had been and curled himself around her, pulling the blankets over them both as he drifted back into an exhausted sleep filled with dark dreams and vague warnings.
He woke when Clotild gently stroked his face and whispered into his ear, "Time to change her. Let me have her, Lady." Legolas realized that he had clutched the sleeping infant close to his chest and wrapped his legs up to curl around her.
After Clotild had taken Luthièl away, Lanelese and Disa brought a light meal and a warm nightshift. They changed the bedding while he bathed and then helped him back into the bed. His exhaustion was such that he didn't mind being there as much as he might have. He slipped back into the dark realm of slumber with Lanelese's voice still in his ears. "Sleep now, because she certainly won't let you sleep later, Lady. She'll keep us all jumping, you wait and see."
His dreams were still full of foreboding and unease.
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The king of Gondor was besotted. Everyone knew it. How could they not, when he acted as though the sun rose and set on his daughter?
Valda crossed the great hall to stand near the fireplace and await his notice. He glanced at her and then back down to the squirming bundle in his arms.
"Oh, and here's Auntie Valda, come to take you away from me again!" His voice had traveled up several octaves into the range audible by bats and small burrowing mammals. The child in his arms squirmed and cooed back at him while Valda restrained the urge to cover her ears and hiss at him to stop before her ears bled.
Instead, she merely shook her head and smiled tightly. "Why do you insist on taking her with you everywhere you go? Legolas will have a hard enough time bonding to her as it is, and when Luthièl is with you, she cannot be there to charm her mother into loving her."
The king furrowed his brows and then smiled down at the baby in his arms. "Because," he started, again in the high pitched voice that made Valda grind her teeth, "once Nana finds out what has happened, she'll use my living guts for garters, yes she will!" He lowered his whiskered jaw to the small face and gently rubbed it onto the rounded cheeks and forehead. "Yes, she will! She's very fierce when angry, Nana is! And how will Ada get to know and love his beautiful girl when he's dead and gone?" He smiled up at Valda, but there was a tinge of sadness in his eyes.
Valda looked down at her own stomach and smiled back at the king. "She'll be hungry soon. I need to take her back so she can nurse. And so her mother can hold her and smell her and get used to the feel of her. You know as well as I do what the cost of not letting them bond will be."
Luthièl squirmed and cooed at him as he looked back down at the precious bundle in his arms. "Shall I take you back to Nana myself, pretty one? Shall I?" He looked up with a smile. "She says yes. I'll take her up myself, Valda. Will you walk with me?"
Valda curtseyed. "Anything for my Lord. As long as you don't talk in that voice the entire way back. I don't think my nerves could take it."
Aragorn laughed quietly as he tickled his daughter's tiny feet and stood up. "I promise, dear Countess." He sobered. "How is Legolas?"
"Well enough, I would say." She shrugged. "You'll see for yourself, I suppose. The first few weeks are hard enough for anyone to accept, much less someone in her… unique situation. Add to that the exhaustion of having such a demanding child constantly at your breast, much less the shock of having a breast to have a child at, and I think you'll have an idea of what we have."
The King shook his head. He shifted Luthièl to ride on his chest, small head looking over his shoulder as she propped her unsteady head up to take in the world around them with wide blue eyes. "I did not want this to happen, Valda. You know this."
Nodding her head, the Countess silently acknowledged that fact. "How long do you want to wait before you tell her what happened?"
"As long as possible, I suppose. At least until I'm sure that the immediate reaction won't be to keel over and die of grief." He sighed. "I promised. I promised he'd go free as soon as this was over. I promised until I was blue in the face, and you see where my promises have led? Nowhere." He spit the last word out bitterly. "I can't even control my own Kingdom enough to make sure that my promises are kept. How telling is that?" The anger was thick in his voice.
Valda cleared her throat as they turned down the hallway to the Queen's chambers. "Gilby was a special case, My Lord. He wanted power, and he convinced himself that it was for the good of Gondor. He didn't care who suffered in his quest for the greater good, even if the greater good was for no one but him."
Aragorn shook his head again. "That sounds entirely too familiar to be comfortable, Valda. I know how it feels to think that way."
"I know. Those who think themselves the most noble and incorruptible are those who are the weakest. And I think you know this." Valda slowly opened the heavy oak door and bowed him into the warm rooms.
Legolas drowsed in the window seat, the snow covered world laid out before him. Ice crystals gleamed on the branches of the trees and sparkled as if they were diamonds hung to adorn the bare limbs. ::Father would appreciate that visual. He was always inordinately fond of jewels:: He smiled to himself sadly as a pang of homesickness flared into his heart. ::I wonder what Father would say about having a mortal grandchild? I'm quite sure he wouldn't be too happy.:: He shifted slightly and drew a knee up to his chest, a position that he had not been able to assume for quite a while. ::But I think he would be even more unhappy about not knowing her. He loves children, no matter what they are, and his own and theirs above all else.::
He sighed, unhappy with his thoughts, and drew his knee tighter to his chest. He hissed in pain as he accidentally squeezed a painfully full breast, and then leaned back against the wall.
The cold did not affect him nearly as much as it had and he felt almost as normal as he had felt in a female body. Clotild had remarked this very morning while she dressed him that it was almost as though he had never borne a child. His waist was small, his stomach flat. Only his hips and breasts gave any indication of what he had gone through a few weeks ago.
He sat a little straighter when he heard voices in the sitting room. Even if he couldn't hear Luthièl's crying, the pain and tightness in his breasts told him that it was almost time for her to nurse.
Valda peeked around the corner, and then opened the door wider at his nod and allowed Aragorn to enter. The king smiled widely and then turned his back to the Elf, showing the small face that peered over his shoulder. "Look here, Nana! Look how strong I am, holding myself up all by myself!" The head was anything but steady, but the eyes were bright and wide.
A small smile tugged at Legolas' lips despite his best efforts as he moved over to the chair in front of the fire and began to unlace his bodice. He sighed silently in relief as the pressure was slightly lessened.
The king made a disappointed sound as Lanelese appeared from nowhere, swept the baby from his arms and began to change the wet clout. Luthièl began to squall as the cold air hit her warm skin and then began to cry louder and suck her fists, almost as if she had been too distracted to realize how hungry she was until just that moment.
Lanelese cooed down at the baby, blue eyes flashing and cheeks flushed with pleasure. "I cannot wait until I have a baby just like you, little one! I tell Bryn every day we must work harder so that I will have a playmate for you! Work day in, work day out! Work, work, work! And he complains of it too, as if it were such a bad thing! Never trust a man, little one." She looked up at the king and smiled. "No offense meant, Majesty."
Aragorn laughed heartily. "None taken." He hooked a small stool from in front of the fire with his foot and dragged it to sit in front of Legolas, elbows on knees. "May I stay and talk to you while she eats?"
Legolas raised his eyebrows as he pulled a cushion onto his lap and pulled open his bodice. "I don't see why not. What do you want to talk about?"
The man shrugged. "This and that, I suppose. Whatever comes to mind. We haven't talked much lately."
"No, we haven't." Legolas looked expectantly towards the maid and was rewarded with a screaming, squirming bundle. He could smell the clean scent of baby as he lowered her onto his lap.
It was this moment that was the hardest, he thought as he looked down at the small face. He tried so hard to feel nothing when she was there, tried so hard not to react to her bright eyes that pierced him to his soul. He bounced his knees gently and clucked at her, trying to soothe her. She nursed better when calm. She sobbed for a moment and then looked up into his eyes and smiled, exposing her pink gums, and his heart skipped a beat as he felt an overwhelming tenderness wash over him.
He raised his eyes to the man who sat at his feet and knew that his inner conflict was visible by the expression on the man's face. He quickly lowered his eyes and lifted her up to where she could easily latch on.
There was a moment of pain and then of pleasure before Luthièl got down to the business of voraciously eating. It was that moment that Legolas felt the loss of self most acutely, as if with every suck she drew more and more of what he was out and away forever. He closed his eyes to hide his feelings from the sharp gaze of the one who watched him, and then opened them again once his composure was recovered.
Luthièl grumbled as she ate, making small sounds of contentment. Aragorn smiled to hear them and then spoke. "What does it feel like, nursing a child?"
Legolas blinked and considered the question. "I don't know how to describe it. In a way it seems pleasurable, and in a way it hurts. I feel tied to this place even moreso because I have to be here for her when she demands it. And she is very demanding." He smiled at that small understatement.
The king smiled and leaned forward to look more closely at his daughter. A tiny hand snaked up to grab a lock of the golden hair and brush it against the small face while he watched. He gently stroked the back of the baby's head, and then sat back and looked at them both together, eyes gleaming.
"What do you see?" Legolas was intrigued by the look in the man's eye.
"I see magic." He spoke almost reverently. "I see the two most important people in my life, the two most beautiful women in the world, the most loving act that could ever be shared between mother and child."
"Is that all you see?" Legolas could feel the heat rising into his face as he flushed, perhaps in anger, perhaps in shame.
Aragorn's eyes darkened. "No. I see more. I see the result of my betrayal of you. I see your sadness and loss. I see your confusion and fear." He paused. "But I prefer to see a beautiful, loving mother with a beautiful child right now. There is time enough for darkness later."
"And if you had looked at me two years ago, what would you have seen, Aragorn?" Legolas could feel Luthièl starting to get heavy in his arms. He switched her over to nurse on the other side as he asked.
"I would have seen something completely different. A deadly warrior, a noble prince, a good friend."
Legolas sighed. "I am still that inside. Being something else than what I am is killing me inch by inch. I have to be true to myself, Aragorn. Don't you see? You have made another side of me, but that side is not natural or right, even if it seems that way to you."
"Do the two sides have to be mutually exclusive?" Aragorn shifted and then continued. "Can you not be everything that you were and everything that you have become at the same time?"
Aragorn was surprised when Legolas thought about that question for long moments. "I don't think so." The voice dropped to a near whisper. "Sometimes I get so tired of fighting, Aragorn. So tired of trying to remember what I was that I simply want to give up and let go of everything I was and embrace what you have made me. It fills me with shame to admit that to you." He looked down to find himself absently stroking a small arm with his thumb.
"I don't want that, Legolas." The king reached over to gently tickle a tiny foot and found his daughter sound asleep. "I don't want that at all. I want you to be happy." He gently took the sleeping child from the Elf and watched as Legolas began to lace the bodice. "I don't want you to be anything less than yourself."
He looked up and found Legolas staring at his neck. "Where is it?" The Elf gasped the question and then looked him in the eye. "Where is it?" He repeated with a panicked note in his voice.
Aragorn furrowed his brow. "What? Where is what?"
"Davyn's crystal. You're not wearing it. Where is it?" Legolas reached forward and grabbed at the neck of the king's tunic and jerked it open, looking for the leather thong that held the one assurance that the mage would not escape. "Where is it?"
Aragorn sighed and then stood, the limp child still cradled in his arm. He turned to the maids still in the room and indicated the door with a jerk of his head. "Leave us." His tone brooked no resistance, although Valda hesitated for the barest moment before seeing the grim look on the king's face.
The room empty and the door closed, the king drew himself tall and turned to face the small blonde who had come to stand behind him. "There is something I must tell you, Legolas." He could feel the bitter taste of betrayal on his tongue as he spoke. "I had not wanted to discuss this now but I will not lie to you. You deserve better than that."
"What? What has happened?" The Elf turned his face up, eyes wide. "What have you done?"
"Davyn is dead." Aragorn said the words quickly, as if their speed would lessen their impact. "He and Gilby died the night Luthièl was born. They died by each other's hand."
Legolas paled and swayed in front of Aragorn, and then held onto the back of the chair for support. "Dead? That long ago? Why did you not tell me?"
He seemed more confused than angry, Aragorn thought. "I did not want to kill you with grief. You were needed, and still are." He gestured to the sleeping child in the crook of his arm. "I would not have you die because of me, Legolas."
"You promised me." The words were barely audible. "You promised me that I would be free. That you would have the spell broken and I could leave." The blue eyes began to blaze. "You have what you wanted now, don't you? Did this happen at your bidding?"
The king shook his head. "No. I was with you the entire time and you know that." He sighed deeply and then continued. "I know what I swore, and I still intend to keep my promise. I know there is some other way we can defeat this spell. I have every resource I have looking for an answer, but they have found nothing yet."
"You wanted this." The words were emotionless, and Aragorn was shocked to see the blue eyes go almost flat and dead with grief. "You wanted me to stay like this, to stay here with you, and give you what you want."
"Not like this, Legolas." He lifted a hand as though to touch the Elf's porcelain cheek. "Never like this."
Legolas flinched away from the touch. "Don't touch me," he hissed. "Don't touch me, don't look at me, don't talk to me." The small body trembled, anger in every line, as if there was a tempest held at bay by only his skin. "Get out." The tone was icy calm and even more threatening for it.
Aragorn tried again. "Legolas, I swear…"
"Get out. " The Elf interrupted, this time the voice an octave sharper. "Get out. GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!!" Each time he said it, the voice grew louder and shriller, as if all control was eroding faster than he could say the words. Aragorn looked into the blue eyes and found them dark with madness. "GET OUT!!!" This last was punctuated by the crash of the heavy chair landing against the wall. Wood splintered and flew as Aragorn shielded his still sleeping daughter and rushed from the room. Legolas grabbed the remains of the chair and began to beat them against the wall as he sobbed incoherently.
One small part of his mind noted that this was very womanish, breaking things and sobbing. Another small part acknowledged this, but also noted how satisfying the feel of breaking something was. The first part agreed with this, but then pointed out that perhaps this meant he was becoming the one thing he did not wish to be. A woman.
Legolas froze, breathing hard. He would not allow this to happen. He would not give in to this. Aragorn was right, there must be another way.
He numbly moved across the room to the mirror. The sheet still shrouded it as it had since Luthièl's birth. Some part of him had not wanted to see her sad eyes as she silently berated him for his resistance to loving the baby.
He tugged the sheet from the wooden frame with his left hand as he realized he still gripped a chair leg in his right. The sheet fell from numb fingers as he looked upon her. Her bosom heaved and her cheeks were pink with exertion. His eyes were drawn to the blue gem that rested at the base of her throat and the collar that encircled her slender neck. The same collar that gleamed in the sullen winter sunlight bound her to this body.
He raised his hand to the collar at his neck, feeling the knots and whorls in it as he traced the edge where it turned from metal into warm skin. She did the same with hers.
"Maybe?" he asked her, his voice ringing in the room. He turned from the mirror, eyes scanning the room quickly, looking for something, anything sharp. The daggers had been removed from over the fireplace long before and there were no other knives in the room.
He turned back to the mirror, hand still on the collar. Her eyes widened at the same time his did; he realizing what to do, she realizing what he intended to.
He raised the chair leg and swung it into the center of the mirror with a precise amount of force. The glass shattered with a popping noise and a large shard fell from the frame and onto the floor with a deceptively merry tinkle.
He threw the chair leg somewhere, not caring where it landed or what it damaged as he fell to his knees and tightly grasped the shard of glass. The edges were razor sharp, cutting his fingers and palm to the bone but he felt nothing, so strong was his desire to be free. Blood began to run down his arm and drip off his elbow into a small pool by his knees. In a disconnected way, he wondered if it would stain the stone. He hated to cause more work for the servants.
He moved the shard to his other hand as he felt out the edges of the collar again, leaving red smudges on his neck and chest. The stone took on an almost purple tinge. The other hand was bleeding freely now as well.
With a hard thrust, he took the shard and tried to cut around the collar, trying to cut it out of his living flesh. The collar would not budge. The glass scraped on the metal causing his teeth to grind at the sensation, but he cut again. He could not feel the sting of pain or the warm wetness as his blood flowed down to cover his chest in a rapidly spreading red stain. He felt nothing but the desire to be free of the horrible spell that held him.
It was not the pain that caught his attention, but the mirror. His eyes fell upon the shattered mirror, the glass still in the frame, and he saw there the woman in the mirror. He leaned back and looked at her, each individual shard holding a small image of her, multiplying her suffering. Down her pale cheeks traced silvery tears as she wept silently for him. The blood had now covered the entire front of her dress and ran down onto the floor in front of her, making the small pool even bigger.
Together they looked at each other in horror, she at what he had done to himself, he at what he had done to her. The shard fell from his nerveless fingers as he leaned forward, bringing the reflection from many women to one woman. Her face was horribly broken, but that was not as frightening as her eyes. They had no life, no hope.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He gasped the words as he lifted his hands to the shattered glass, trying to pat it back down, put it together. He left red smudges wherever he touched, and the sharp edges cut his hands more. "I didn't think of what this would do to you. I'm so sorry." His chest hitched with sobs as he tried again and again to press the glass down, to fix the breaks that marred her face. Anything to make her eyes come back to life again. "I'm so sorry. I can't fix you. I've shattered you. You're shattered." He was sobbing uncontrollably now. The reflection was barely visible through the covering of red he had left on the glass, but he could still feel her eyes accusing him through the blood.
His ears roared, and he barely heard the voice behind him that screamed for help, or felt the arms that dragged him back from the glass. He was too disconnected to feel the hands that gripped his arms tightly enough to slow the bleeding, or the bandage that was pressed to the gaping wound on his throat. There was no pain. There was only the deep sorrow he felt at the damage he had caused the woman in the mirror.
The world spun around him as he raised his eyes to the grey ones that looked down upon him. "She is shattered and I cannot put her back together." He continued weakly when there was no answer. "I am shattered."
The world went black.