Heart of the Realm: Alt. "Final Rest" Draft
The bedtime preparations were routine. The silence only filled her thoughts with other things, gave her mind room to wander, and sadly, also, to grieve. No conversation. No commotion in the room other than her own. There was stillness, purest, undisturbed stillness, except for a little flickering flame that carelessly turned the surrounding furniture into monsters on the wall; they twitched with their impatience... But, the woman in the mirror saw neither this nor actually the reflection of herself, but gazed deep into the distance, into the reflection of the room behind her, wanting to believe that she could see them, her lost loved ones, still standing at her sides. She could not picture herself these days without seeing them as well, the faces of the fallen; had they been that close-knit? She found it strangely hard to recall.
Gently, so as not to make a sound, she set down her brush, and tied her long hair up, loosely. She peered in the mirror one last time, for a long, last time. What to do with yourself when you would rather waste away dwelling on the past? And when not even all was lost! A grown son still remained to her, whom in fact was now to be her highest hope for a new and bright tomorrow. Grown though he was, it was still her duty as his mother to be strong for him; for surely, he has lost at least as much as she. She worried about him; He was the type to bottle everything in... And she was winding herself up into a nervous fit before bed. She needed to clear her head; It would do her no good to go without sleep, what with her resolve to 'be strong'.
At long last she arose from her seat, and girlishly blew a kiss to the phantoms she'd imagined in the mirror. Her heart ached; she missed them so dearly, so deeply. But she knew that there would never be a remedy for this kind of pain. Not in this life, anyway.
She carried her candle to the nightstand beside her bed, and removed from her finger a small silver token: the ring which, by olden legend, signed a mutual wish to meet one's spouse in the afterlife.
The legend said that, a long, long time ago, people used to live forever. But men seeking power grew discontent, and sought mans of transcendence. Thus, they discovered Sleep. From Sleep, people often returned with strange and wondrous stories to tell. These stories, full of meaning, helped the people of the world to understand their lives. However, Sleep was imperfect, a few said; it was shallow, it was impermanent. Thus Death was discovered. By the time that the people of the world got wise to them, however, these men were well beyond their reach. It was thus that the people of the world learned of Separation. But Death was indiscriminate, and even loved ones had to part. Life became a cycle, which continues even to this day. But ever since then, the people of the world have sought ways to transcend it... One was called the Second (or Silver) Promise, which were rings worn by a husband and wife who wished to meet each other as friends in the afterlife.
It was all but forgotten these days, however. Sealed away in dusty old lore books on collectors' shelves, or read aloud in sweetened versions to nursery-school children. Luck would have it, though, that her husband had been one such book collector. A history buff, actually... When his primary physician informed her that he was unlikely to last the night, she had gone cold and speechless. But he, it seemed, though impenetrably sad, was the least surprised. From his sickbed, he pulled out the rings, custom-made, and virtually proposed to her all over again.
The woman's hand trembled violently as she fingered the silver piece. It had quarts embedded in its design. A curiosity, considering the extremely fine craftsmanship... The metal shivered in the candlelight; she caught a glimpse of herself in it, like a tiny, warped mirror.
So incomplete.
But before the tears could fall, she gathered herself, and tucked the little ring under the lid of an ivory jewelry box on her nightstand. She cupped her hand around the back of her candle and blew it out. The room went completely dark, except for a sliver of sky visible through a crack in the shutters of the nearest window. Her eyes adjusted more as she crawled into bed; there were a lot of stars out tonight, but they looked......fragile. As if ready to tumble out of the sky.
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AN: Found this in a forgotten post of my LJ. At the time I hated it, but reading it with fresh eyes, I find it's not nearly as incoherent as I thought it was. I especially like the closing, which I had already vowed to keep tweaking with in my new draft, which currently holds the honorable position of HotR's official Chapter 1. Compare-and-Contrast type critiques between the two versions would be appreciated, if you're up for it. :)