It was as if she were underwater: everything blurry. It all felt so far away. Words did not compute; the sounds floated in one ear and out the other, meaningless. Her lungs inhaled and exhaled at a steady rhythm, but the move was done unconsciously, following years of muscle memory and relying on survival instincts. Her eyes focused and unfocused, seeing and unseeing, caught in a cycle between the present and past. One moment she was in her suite, the next she was back in the school; clean then bloodied. Over and over her mind replayed the suicide, each time ingraining it into the tissue of her brain, leaving its mark forever.
The Empress could remember every detail of the moment: his tears falling down his flushed cheeks, the ether gun pushing upward under his chin, the adrenaline flooding her body, her desperate plea, the green explosion encapsulating his head, the high-pitched ringing in her ears, the warm blood dripping down her face, and the shrillness of her screams.
"Melia." A soft voice said, breaking through the cloud of despair. The woman turned to her right, pulling into focus Fiora's face. Her green eyes were warm with concern, reaching out to bring the High Entia back into the present. "Maybe we could get you changed out of those clothes?"
The Homs Entia didn't answer, just staring at her friend. Words would not come, though Melia was grateful for the interruption of her suffering. Her gaze fell back to the floor, taking in the soft tan carpet, studying each detail of threading. If she could focus on the count of fibers, maybe she could shut out the repeating sounds of skull cracking and brains exploding in her ears.
As Melia studied the carpet, her ears registered whispering voices to the left of her.
"Maybe we should leave her alone." Fiora suggested.
"No, we can't. She's in shock. She may not be physically injured, but we can't leave her alone right now." Sharla said.
"But she's not responding to anything."
"She needs to eat something. That will help."
"I can go get some food." Serenity murmured.
"Yes, do that."
Melia shut her eyes. Immediately, Alderon's anguished face reappeared, awash with the horror of past crimes committed. As he had been haunted by those he had unknowingly murdered, now she was by him. The woman felt that though she did not pull the trigger, she was responsible for his death. If only could she have taken the gun from him. If only she had lunged at him before he had pulled the trigger. If only...
"Melia."
She looked up and peered into a dark set of eyes. Fearful yet kind. "Melia, let's get you changed." Sharla said, taking her hand.
Numbly, the High Entia nodded. She stood and swayed, unsteady on her feet. An arm wrapped around her shoulders. "It's okay. I've got you." A slight pressure was applied to Melia's right shoulder; a side glance told the High Entia it was a squeeze. Meant for comfort. Her brain computed but her heart felt nothing.
Sharla guided the Empress from the parlor, through the bedroom and into the washroom and shut the door behind the two of them. The Homs didn't turn the overhead lights on, leaving the room bathed in cool, blue morning light provided by the small windows lining the top of the tall walls. Not large enough for exposure, but just enough for natural light and ventilation.
"Let's get you out of these."
But as Sharla moved to pull off Melia's blue blazer, the High Entia looked up at her, shaking her head.
"I'll be alright, Sharla. I can wash off." The words were mechanical, sounding foreign, though they came from her mouth.
"Are you sure?"
Melia nodded.
"Alright. I'll just be right outside." Sharla said. "If you need anything, call me."
Melia nodded again, and Sharla left her, closing the washroom door firmly behind her.
It would have been fine had Sharla helped her despite moderate embarrassment and discomfort (though it was hard to feel anything at all at the moment). After all, Sharla was a medic. The Homs was used to seeing people in all sorts of conditions and in all bodily appearance. But after what happened...
The Empress needed to be alone. And she finally was.
Silence. It filled her ears, uncomfortably.
Then it hit her like a pound of bricks. No warning. It sucked her air away and she gasped, trying to catch her breath. Her pulse quickened and her cheeks flushed. A whimper raced into her throat, but she clamped it down, gritting her teeth against any sounds trying to escape. The monsoon of grief barreled through her now, tears dotting her eyes. He was dead. Blown to pieces right in front of her; the remnants of him still covering her clothes.
Get in the shower. Wash it off. Wash it all away.
Panic surged within her and her heart palpitations beat out of her neck. She needed to get it all off. It was a silent exercise, but inside her mind she screamed. Her fingers fidgeted over the buttons and tore the shirt and blazer from her body. Trembling, she unbuttoned her pants and shucked them off. Next, her underclothes. In a matter of seconds, she was naked, cold, shivering in the middle of her washroom, her clothes rounding her legs. Lastly, her hands reached up to her hair and she released the bun, the silver locks tumbling down around her to the bottom of her waist.
Gradually, her eyes met her own in the reflection of the mirror. Specks of red dotted her cheeks; Sharla had tried to wipe off most of the blood when they'd found Melia, stock still, still kneeling in front of the destroyed body. But the blood had soaked through the collar of her shirt, and to her skin. It left a stain around the base of her neck, red and pink like a mark left by a noose. As the Empress ran her hands through her hair, her fingertips felt something sticky. Her throat constricted and her breath hitched as she pulled her hand in front of her face. Hands trembled as she stared at the blood. More leaving its mark on her, a reminder of his violent death.
Get in the shower. Wash it off. Wash it all away.
The woman turned and stepped into the shower, closing the glass door behind her. Mechanically, she turned the handles of the shower. Water dripped out slowly, then poured down upon her. It was warm, soothing. Closing her eyes, Melia reached for the soap bar on the small counter to the right and began scrubbing herself. Sluggish at first. Then quicker until she felt the soap's coarseness. Wildly, she dragged it over every inch of her skin. She couldn't miss a spot. Every cell needed to be accounted for. Shoulders. Arms. Legs. Feet. Torso. Chest. Upper back. Lower back. Water cascaded over her, washing the soap away.
But Melia was not satisfied. She ran the soap over her skin again, the water dragging it down her body and into the drain. Tears fell from her eyes and down her cheeks as she did it once more. Her throat closed and her vision blurred as the soap scraped another time against her skin. But as she tried to do it once more, her body shuddered. Her grip loosened and the soap fell with a clatter to the tile floor. Next to it, Melia dropped to her knees. Her lungs heaved as the anguish snaked through her and wrapped itself around each muscle, intertwining and tightening. She twisted from side to side, feeling the world fall away from her. Images of Alderon's dead eyes flashed before hers and she sobbed. The cries got louder and louder, exploding from deep in her chest. Strangled cries long held inside pushed forward out of her mouth. Melia pitched forward, wrapping her arms around her hips as she wept into her knees.
Why? Why had any of this happened? Why had he chosen death? Was life truly so hellish that he had no will to live?
Though her eyes were shut, it was as if they were wide open. Melia watched the explosion over and over. Each time before he shot himself, she wailed, screaming for him to stop. The blood...there was so much of it. Pooling over Alderon's lifeless body, onto the ground, sinking into her pants. Splattered on her face, trickling down her neck and the front of her shirt.
Inhaling, the High Entia opened her eyes and forced herself to sit up, releasing her arms, letting them fall to her sides. Had she done this? No, it was selfish to think that. But she could've done something, like Alderon had said. She could've done something to help all of the High Entia mourn. Instead, she had done nothing. She had tried to push it to the side as she had with her own grief. Forced her people to try and ignore and forget.
She had ignored the cries of her people. How could she have done such a thing? Her first responsibility was to her people's welfare. And she had broken that commandment. Self-loathing invaded her heart and she clenched her jaw as a new wave of tears overwhelmed her. The Empress clenched her hands into fists and banged them against the walls of the shower, screaming. Her fists came down over and over on the glass as the anger took hold of her body. The sounds reverberated off of the glass, filling her ears. Why hadn't she done more?
Minutes passed as she beat her hands against the glass, shrieks turning into howls. Gradually though, the punches came slower, and stinging rippled through her fists and her throat was raw from the yelling. Her breath came ragged, chest heaving as she weekly thumped her fist against the wall one last time. Slumping down onto her side, Melia closed her eyes and raised her face to the shower head, letting the water mingle and wash away the tears.
While the first tides of grief had passed, she knew another was coming on the back of the previous crest. It was a cruel reality. Though the water was warm, her blood turned cold as memories of her brother and father swarmed through her mind. Kallian's affectionate smile. The twinkle in her father's eye. The heartbreak that had long ago taken root in her body, bloomed and stretched its roots and twigs throughout her anatomy, poisoning every fiber of her being. There was no holding it back now. She whimpered as she remembered Sorean's face as Metal Face drove his spindly fingers through him. Her father's expression of combined shock and resignation forced her stomach to contort. She wept as she recalled Kallian's transformation into a Telethia, who she fought and lethally injured. Then his final sacrifice to save her, taking him from this world.
Never again would Kallian tease her about her terrible swordplay skills.
Never again would Sorean share memories with her in the nursery.
Never again would she see them side by side, welcoming her home after a mission with praise.
For the first time, her heart understood what her brain had comprehended long ago. Her family: gone forever. Out of reach. Forever lost. The hoarse sounds of whimpering echoed around her until she knew not where the sounds ended and began.
It seemed like hours before the emotion released its hold on her, the memories ebbed away, and she was left exhausted and worn. There was no peace, no contentment, no resolve. But there was burnout. And that was perfectly acceptable to Melia. Because feeling any more would leave her incapable of functioning.
The minutes passed as she recollected herself. The woman ran a hand through her hair and took a deep breath. She knew what was needed to be done. Everything in her wanted to stay in the shower, safe from the world, but she had duties. She had apologies to make, even should they not be accepted.
Standing, the Empress washed her hair, letting her breath fall into a normal rhythm. She reached out and turned the cold metal knobs; the water stopped, leaving her dripping. Fatigued, she stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in the white bathrobe that hung on the hook next to the glass door. Melia stepped towards the bathroom counter and studied her appearance. Red-rimmed, turquoise eyes, a pale complexion, lips creased into a line. But her face was clear; no sign of red specks. Her gaze traveled down to her neck. The noose impression was gone. Finally, she ran a hand through her hair; smooth. No matted blood. It appeared there was nothing left of the tragedy.
Nothing physical, that was.
Her gaze turned away from her reflection and to the door that led out to her bedroom, where presumably Sharla waited. And out the next door was the parlor, where the rest of them waited.
No doubt they had heard her. Or at the very least Sharla. But there was no help for it. At this moment, she did not care. Perhaps later, when normal emotions returned to her, she would worry about what they would think. But at the moment, all potential anxiety did not exist.
Melia exhaled again. The numbness filled any spaces where oscillating emotions would have seeped through and polluted her mood. The silence, this time, was comforting. Nothing and no one to disturb her. But she couldn't stay forever. The Empress had to confront reality. Because, she knew it would only be a matter of time until the next wave of grief overcame her, leaving her powerless against its strength. And there were things to do before that happened.
Picking up her discarded clothes, Melia exited the washroom and tossed them into the hamper.
"Melia?"
The Empress turned as Sharla rose from her seated position on the bed.
"How are you?"
"I am fine, Sharla. Thank you for giving me privacy."
Sharla looked at her, her eyes filled with knowing. "It's okay to not be alright."
"I'm fine. Truly." Her voice was firm and resolute.
"Serenity brought you something to eat. I won't take no for an answer."
"First allow me to dress."
"Of course." Sharla exited the room and Melia turned to her closet. Crisp white shirts and black pants hung, but these were not appropriate now. Her hands sifted through the clothes until she came upon a simple black dress. Grabbing its hanger, she pulled it out to inspect it. A square-cut neckline, long sleeves, full-length, and purely black. Appropriate for one in mourning. A few minutes later, she was dressed, hair pinned up in a bun. She was ready.
Exiting from the bedroom, Melia walked into the parlor. All of her friends were there. Riki, Fiora, Serenity, Tyrea, Shulk, Reyn, Sharla, and of course...Dunban. Upon entering, all eyes turned on her; their faces a mixture of concern and sadness.
"I apologize for worrying you all." The Empress said, folding her hands in front of her body.
"You don't have to apologize. We just want to make sure you're okay." Fiora said, walking to her and taking her hands.
"I am. Sharla has seen to that."
Serenity stepped forward, indicating a tray of food that awaited for consumption on her desk. "Empress, I brought you something to eat."
"Thank you, Serenity. I will be sure to partake after I write."
"Melly need to eat! If Melly don't eat, she will be sad and hungry." Riki said, jumping up and down.
"I have something I must do, Riki. You need not worry." Melia said, kneeling in front of the Nopon and taking his paws in her hands.
"Promise?"
"I promise I will eat as soon as I finish my work."
"Um...Melia...are you sure you want to be working?" Shulk asked.
"It is necessary that I do so." Melia said, standing. "Serenity, would you please make an announcement? I would like the people to be at Prison Island just before sundown."
"Of course, Empress. May I ask what for?"
"You shall see."
She avoided Dunban's eyes. She hadn't forgotten she had already shown him.
"Melia, stop." Tyrea said. "You're blatantly ignoring what just happened to you. That's stupid, even for you."
"I am not ignoring it. I'm addressing the problem as it must be."
"By doing what? Shutting down?"
"Tyrea, you of all should understand why I must continue." Melia looked at her step-sister, their eyes locked as an unsaid message traveled between them. Eventually, Tyrea turned away, arms crossed, but remained silent.
"Now, if you all will excuse me, I must get to work." Melia said, keeping her tone polite, but the dismissal firm. "Please join me in my shuttle to Prison Island later this day. I would like to show you what is there." Murmurs of acquiescence passed through the group, though it was clear they were reluctant to leave her alone. However, one by one, they filed out of her suite. Dunban was the last to leave, lingering to see if she would ask him to stay. But she turned away to pour herself tea, waiting to hear his footsteps depart.
As soon as she was alone, the Empress called out: "James. Where is Elrich?"
The bodyguard came in to the parlor, grim-faced. "He awaits news of your condition down in the Great Hall."
"Have him come up."
"Empress?"
She turned to face James, tea cup in hand. "He is my guard. We may have had a disagreement, but he will always be to my left with you to my right, should he still wish it."
A smile appeared on James' face. "He does, your Highness."
"Well then, please collect him and make a shuttle ready to depart for Prison Island in four hours."
James bowed and left, leaving her alone once more. As she sat down at her desk and grabbed a pen and paper, Melia felt her earlier exhaustion overtake her. The strong front she'd put up in front of her friends had taken its toll. And the woman knew she only had so much strength left to make it through the rest of the day intact, without dissolving into tears once again. If she could make it through the next event without breaking down, it would be enough.
Melia was silent on the shuttle ride over to Prison Island. Though she heard the whispers pass between her friends as they flew through the sky from Alcamoth, the tones of their voices fluctuating with concern and curiosity, she made no move to join any conversation. Instead, she sat at the window, hands crossed over the lap of her black dress, and watched as the craft passed over the Eryth Sea, admiring the orange glow settling over the landscape as the sun gradually plunged below the horizon.
As the aircraft descended towards Prison Island, a sidelong glance told her that each passenger had made his or her way to the window, eager to see what was once a place of exile. Prison Island looked as dark as it had months ago: steel, black pillars rose up into the sky above the man made island. The highest tower still cast a foreboding shadow. However, lacking were any of the dark creatures that swam in the skies around the island. It was quiet save for the hum of the shuttle's engine disturbing the air currents.
As the shuttle docked at the bay, Melia was the first down the ramp, eager to escape the possibility of being forced into conversation. Still sensitive, she feared that any questions about her condition would trigger an overwhelming sadness which she would not be able to contain. And that would not do, especially now.
The rest of the party disembarked and the Empress turned to the group. "Please follow me."
She led them away from the landing platform and towards a set of alabaster stairs, her black dress billowing in the slight breeze. The stairs ascended up a rather long hill. Small green lights lined either side of the pathway, giving the climb an ethereal quality. As the woman reached the top, her eyes swept over the scene. Instead of seeing what was before her, the work she carefully crafted, her memories flashed before her eyes instead. The High Entia remembered how this platform had once held Zanza prisoner, or rather Arglas, the Giant who had been possessed by the god. And this was where her father had died.
The thought threatened to pierced through her carefully crafted armor, but she resisted. Only by the skin of her teeth. Another arrow, and she might not be so lucky.
Nine months ago, it had been a dark place. Black stone everywhere. The ugly manacles still in place in the center of the circular platform. Grey stone where the black ground met the wall that rose upward into the sky. An atmosphere of death and darkness, oppressive to the lungs.
It was no longer such a place.
The terrace was alit by golden hanging lanterns, strung up around the entire platform. The dark tile floor had been replaced with a beautiful cream tiles with light brown shadings running through each. Curving around the circular platform was greenery, populated with flowers of all shades and sizes. And in the very center of the platform was an obsidian wall, spanning six feet in width, bookended on either side with beautiful lamp posts, shining down on the black wall with beautiful blue light.
"Melia, this is beautiful!" Fiora exclaimed, running forward a few steps in awe.
"Yeah, Melia! This is amazing!" Shulk agreed as he went to join Fiora's side.
"Did you do all of this?" Fiora asked.
The Empress merely nodded.
"How long have you been working on this?" Sharla asked.
"Nine months. Shortly after I brought my people back to Alcamoth." Melia answered. It had been a long project, and there was still much to do. But so much had changed in such little time. Had she not been numb to the situation, the Empress thought she would be able to take pride in her work.
"You couldn't have done all this by yourself, right?" Reyn asked.
"You are correct. I have James, Elrich, and Kiefer to thank for the flooring. It would have been impossible for me to transport the heavy stones, even with the equipment we utilized. And Kiefer sourced much of the actual materials. James and Elrich were able to help me with replacing the stones. As well as the stairs we just walked on."
"Does Kiefer know?" Dunban asked.
It was the first time he had spoken to her since finding her in the school.
"I felt it would be inappropriate to not tell him what I needed it for." She said, not looking at him. "But he understood I wanted to be discreet, so he did not ask any questions."
"Empress...are these..." Serenity trailed off as she walked to the large obsidian wall in the center of the platform, cautiously touching her fingertips to the engravings.
"Yes." Melia nodded, as if reading the young woman's mind. "Those are all of the names of the deceased."
"You know them all, don't you?"
Melia did not respond, but she felt her lip quiver. Her silence was confirmation enough.
Tyrea joined Serenity, her fingers stopping over one name in particular. Melia knew what name the woman touched, and the Empress felt a jolt electrify her heart.
There was a brush against her leg. Riki appeared, looking up at her with a sad smile. He held his paw out and she scooped him up in her arms. It was comforting, holding him as she walked towards the monument. As she got closer, her eyes glazed over the names. They had been engraved into the obsidian, then filled with silver, so they could easily be read. And remembered.
"Melly did this? Carved each name?"
She nodded in confirmation, not trusting herself to speak as a lump rose in her throat.
"Thank you." Tyrea said, her eyes meeting Melia's.
It was too much. The grief pushed against her barriers. Gently, she put Riki down and folded her hands in front of her. "If you will excuse me, I must prepare my remarks for when the people arrive." Before anyone could say anything more to her, she walked off to the edge of the platform, where another set of spiral stairs were.
As she made her way up, the scenery became darker. The renovations for this section had yet to begin, much less be planned out. As she reached the next floor, the Empress slowed her steps. This level was much smaller than the last. Each would be as they rose in the sky. There were four more floors above the one she stood upon, and she knew what exactly she wanted to for the remodeling. Of course, that depended on whether she had the resources and support.
But there was not time to think of that now. No, she needed to prepare. Opening the piece of paper she held, Melia began to read over the words, cementing them into her mind.
A half an hour passed and the sunlight had disappeared, leaving the sky dark. The lanterns shined their yellow light onto the courtyard like fireflies, their warm glow inciting smiles instead of frowns. The flowers opened and sparkled, glowing blue and pink and yellow. The monument was majestic in the daylight, but breathtaking in the nightlight.
The buzzing sounds of discourse reached her ears. The Empress went to the railing and slightly leaned over to see the platform below. The High Entia had started to arrive. Her stomach twisted, making her queasy. She was not looking forward to this. But it had to be done.
Minutes passed as the platform began to fill to capacity. It was time. Squaring her shoulders, she walked over to the stairs and descended. As she reached to bottom, she noticed how the High Entia looked around in wonder at the terrace. Melia realized that this would be their first visit to Prison Island, as her father had forbidden any to visit during the course of his reign.
Taking a place beside the obsidian wall, Melia cleared her throat. At once, all voices fell silent and eyes focused on her. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. By now, each High Entia knew what had conspired earlier in the morning. And she needed to address it. Her hands trembled as she looked down at the paper her hands held. The words were there, the sentences she'd strategically constructed for this moment, but she could not muster the mental strength to say them. The message was diplomatic, explanatory, informative, analytical. Above all: emotionless.
It wasn't right.
Carefully, Melia folded the piece of paper.
Swallowing, she passed her eyes over the crowd. Clearing her throat once more, she began, "I have asked you all here today because...no doubt you have heard the account of this morning's events."
Murmers of confirmation rolled in waves through the crowd.
"A young High Entian man took his life. He did this, I believe, because of the ghosts that haunted him. Those lives that he had extinguished while he was in the Telethia form." Her voice wavered as she continued, the image of Alderon appearing like a ghost in front of her. "He was in pain. Pain that had long tormented him. Pain that could have been prevented had I addressed the suffering of our people months ago."
The lump in her throat returned; she struggled to keep her voice firm as she continued: "I have made a mistake. I should have spent more time devoted to helping each and every one of you through this transition. And for that, please accept my deepest apologies."
Silence greeted her burning ears, but she saw eyes wide with shock, sadness, even anger. It did not matter; the words were not to assuage her guilt, but to express the deepest sentiments that filled her heart. She was certain that she would never forgive herself for such a slight, but she would strive to atone in any way possible.
"Where you stand was once a place of pain and death. But I no longer want it to be such a place. I desire it to be a place of remembrance for those we lost. For those who sacrificed their lives to save ours." The guilt crashed over her; her shoulders tensed.
But the Empress pressed onward, her voice unsteady and vision bleary. Gesturing to the wall, she said, "This is a memorial. On this wall, every name of every person who was taken from us during the Holocaust, and after it due to the after effects, is here. Every name has been carved into it so each person will be remembered for generations to come. Forever."
As Melia turned her head towards the obsidian, her throat closed. A few tears dotted her eyes as she focused in on a single name. Blinking rapidly, she turned back to the crowd and said, "My father, Emperor Sorean Antiqua III was killed on this very ground, fighting for our survival. He was a great man. He cared for each of you as if were his own children. His responsibilities as Emperor were his life: protecting you at every turn. My father was a wonderful Emperor and I hope you will remember him so."
The emotion was too much to bear; the loss of her father ripping through her control. The Empress covered her mouth to smother any sobs that wished to escape and closed her eyes. Breathe. She tightened her stomach, squeezing her eyes to extinguish the tears. Breathe. She had to pull together. Forcing her throat open, the Empress took a deep breath in and out, and opened her eyes, brushing away the tears.
Swallowing, the High Entia said in a mournful tone, "I invite you, should you be so moved, to approach and share a memory of one you lost. Share a special moment, so we may all support you together in this time of grief. And so we may honor each and every soul lost to our people."
With that, she stepped away a few paces and turned. Her heart crunched. It was a risk, but she hoped it would be well worth it. Seconds passed and they were silent. No one ventured to the front of the crowd to share a story. Her shoulders sunk. It wouldn't work.
But then a High Entian woman walked through the crowd and to the front. She turned around to face the High Entia gathered: it was Serenity. The young woman's blond curls bounced as she opened her mouth and began to talk about her mother, turned into a Telethia and killed in the chaos. Serenity continued, her voice trembling, and explained that she harbored no ill will to the one who took her mother's life, only to the one who had turned her mother into a Telethia in the first place.
Serenity stepped back into the crowd, sending a glance to Melia. The young woman nodded at the Empress, who nodded back, grateful.
Then another High Entia took to the stand. This time it was an Entian man. First, he struggled to put his words into a coherent sentence. But gradually, he began to weave his story. His transformation into a Telethia had been painful beyond comprehension, and he'd lost all trace of consciousness. When he finally came to, once again an Entian man, he had cried, knowing that he'd hurt High Entia, but who, what, where and when continued to remain a mystery to him.
He blended back into the crowd, and an Entian woman took to the stage. And after her, a Homs Entian man. They kept coming up, one by one, no pauses in between. Tears flowed easily through the crowd, a few gasps and wails. But there were not screams of anger, no proclamations of hatred. Just quiet listening, understanding, sympathizing.
Melia hugged her sides as she watched. Maybe this would do it. Maybe this was the first step towards healing. And for the first time all day, she felt a small ray of hope shine through her heart.
The vigil ended an hour later, the air exhausted with memories, but the High Entia feeling a little lighter as they boarded the shuttles back to the Diamond City. No doubt there were still those Homs Entia that harbored anger against the Entia for their part in the Holocaust. But no rage had been expressed. Instead, it was frustration at the events of the exodus, disappointment with the lack of guidance immediately after the fall, resentment at not having had the chance to mourn the dead until now. It hurt, those comments, but she would not begrudge them. This was a place to air all emotions that had been dismissed, kept inside for so long. Though many tears had been shed, she felt the overall event was positively received. At least, that is what she hoped.
When her shuttle landed in Alcamoth, Melia directly went to her quarters, James and Elrich on her heels, avoiding any conversation with her friends. All she wanted was to be alone. Minutes later, the Empress sat in her parlor, unattended as desired, glass of wine in hand. Normally, she would feel guilty for such an indulgence, but now she cared not. It was deserved after the day she'd had. It soothed her nerves and blanketed the sorrow inside her. If the woman could keep it quiet, perhaps she would be able to sleep this night.
A knock came to the door and James poked his head in. "Empress..." He trailed off, looking at her, unsure.
"Yes, James?" She already knew she would not enjoy this.
"Dunban is here to see you."
The one person she did not want to see. The only person she did want to see.
Silent, Melia looked away, contemplating her answer. She took a sip of her wine, feeling the cool, heavy liquid slip across her tongue and down her throat. She was angry with Dunban, hurt by his announcement early in the morning. But a small part of her whispered that he was one of the few people to understand the pain she was in. Her mind flip flopped back and forth, wondering whether to let him in or keep him out.
But what did it matter anyway? He was leaving soon.
"Empress?"
Turning her eyes back to James, she nodded solemnly. "Let him come in."
Dubious, James answered, "Are you sure?" She hadn't told him or Elrich what conspired between her and Dunban, but she knew they sensed something was amiss.
Melia merely nodded and the bodyguard disappeared. Removing her gaze from the door, she lifted her wine glass to her lips and drank, drowning out the anxiety of the impending encounter. Numbness took its place in her heart, right next to exhaustion. The door closed behind her, but she did not turn her head.
"I came to see how you were."
"I must admit that I have felt better." A hand rested on her shoulder. It felt nice, to be comforted. The urge to place her hand over his rose within her, but she ignored it.
"That was a very brave thing you did." He said, moving to take a seat on the sofa opposite her armchair.
"Wine?"
"No, thank you."
She looked at him over the rim of her glass. "I don't think I would call what I did brave. It was necessary."
"It takes a conscientious leader to admit her mistakes."
"If you say so." Melia looked away.
"You cannot torture yourself like this, Melia. What is done, is done."
She bit her lip. "I suppose you are right. But I cannot help but feel that I failed in my duty to lead them out of the darkness."
"But you have done that."
"How?"
"See the bigger picture. You were trying to give your people a push, to move past the grief and continue forward. Not to immerse themselves in it. Ultimately, that's all anyone can do." Dunban countered.
"That is true. But I should have addressed this months ago."
"Let it be a lesson learned, Melia. I am not dismissing your feelings. But there is no point in ruminating. It's over. And done with."
She sighed and finished her glass. The man was right, and she knew it. It frustrated her and calmed her all at the same time the way he saw right through the heart of any matter. The only way to put the reality behind her was to accept and move on. Though the guilt she carried would not yet let her go. It hung on, kicking and screaming. But she pushed it away. For now, all the woman wanted was a reprieve. After all, it had been a trying day.
As the Empress poured herself another glass, she hesitated and said, "Alderon mentioned you."
"He did?"
"Yes. He...he hoped you would forgive him."
His brow scrunched together in thought. Then he said, "It is hard to forgive using children as shields."
"That is true. But...he didn't want to do it."
"Then why?" His eyes narrowed as he looked at her.
"He was forced to do so."
"What do you mean?" Dunban's voice was dangerously low. She could see his jaw clenching with every memory she shared.
The Homs Entia hesitated and took another sip of wine. Would she tell him about what Alderon had said? About the man, who was most certainly Camar, and the woman?
"Alderon said that...a man said if he did such a thing, it would force me to abdicate."
"Camar."
"I believe so." She gulped down some more wine, feeling the dishonesty on her tongue. Some unknown emotion tugged at her heart as she swallowed the lie. Her faith in Dunban was broken somehow. Could she trust him any longer?
"Did Alderon say where Camar was?"
"No. Just that he had hidden himself somewhere in the Great Hall."
"You have already searched?"
"I asked Elrich to go and inspect the lower floors while I was writing my speech. He found nothing." She responded, though her shoulders slumped as she said the words. It began to seem hopeless that Camar's location would ever be discovered.
"He's got to be somewhere."
"I doubt we will find him."
There was a pause in their conversation. It did not feel like their pauses before: warm, comfortable. This one felt sad and awkward. But she made no move to fill it. It was not her responsibility. And her weariness befriended apathy.
"Still, Alderon did not have to do it." Dunban murmured, turning his head away.
"No, he did not."
"I cannot forgive him."
"Dunban." She said softly.
"What?" His voice full of grit.
"The man was greatly disturbed. You know that as well as I."
"That isn't a good enough reason to condone his actions." Dunban rose from his seat and walked in the direction of the kitchen.
"He was sick. Camar manipulated him."
"There is always a choice, Melia. He could have said no." He turned to face her. She could see his eyes full of fire.
Honor, she knew, was always of strict importance to Dunban. He had been a soldier, it was a code he lived by. But there was no room for fragility there. To him, things were black and white.
Sitting up, Melia met his gaze. "Will you ignore the fact that his confusion and turmoil was based on an experience he had no control over? Did he have a choice when he transformed into a Telethia? I think not. And in that form, he murdered defenseless Homs Entia. Men, women, and children. Unwillingly."
"That's not—"
"Relevant? Then is it not relevant that I could have prevented so much pain had I listened to the very people I serve almost ten months ago? How many voices asked me to address the horrors that befell our people? And I ignored it. It took a single Entia to destroy himself before I realized the damage that had been done. Would you place the blame on me then for his actions?" She set her glass down on the coffee table.
"If you're going to wallow in self-pity, I have nothing to say." He crossed his arms over his chest.
Her heart flew into her throat; the words cut her like knives. Everything bled inside her, the faces of the dead appearing. The names on the wall at Prison Island ran through her mind. She blinked at him, shocked. "Excuse me?"
"I apologize. That was harsher than I intended. But I will not encourage your behavior."
"I do not need your encouragement or approval. As I may remind you, you won't encourage anything, agreeable or disagreeable in the future. Due to your imminent departure." Her voice was quiet, but she held his eyes with hers, stony.
It dropped there, between them. Neither spoke. The silence was deafening.
"I've explained that already." He said, turning his head to the side and running a hand through his hair.
"Why are you here, Dunban?" Melia asked wearily as she stood. She did not want to have this conversation again. She was too tired. Too exhausted from the various emotions that had flooded through her that day.
"As I said, I came to see how you were."
The Empress detected an undercurrent of anger in his voice. The wine warmed her blood as she considered his response. "I believe you have assessed my welfare from the events of today."
"I will not leave until I know you're safe."
"You mean Camar? I doubt we will ever find him until he wishes to be seen." Her words were careless, the wine increasing her apathy.
"While he's still out there, he will be a threat to you." Dunban walked towards her.
"After him, there may be yet another. And another. And another."
Briefly, Melia thought of the woman Alderon mentioned. It could be Miriall. It could be someone else entirely. She would have to find out. But alone. Without him. Numbness took the place of heartache. For that, she was grateful. She didn't have any more tears left for this day.
"You might as well leave while it is still calm."
"I won't do that."
"Fine. Do as you wish."
"I may be leaving, but that doesn't mean I don't care about you, Melia." Dunban said softly, putting his hand on her shoulder.
Sighing, Melia answered, "You asked me to open myself to you. You said you wanted to acquaint yourself with me better. That you wanted to learn more about me. What happened to that?"
"That has not changed." He said, his voice urgent. His eyes were pleading, asking her to understand.
But it was too late.
"I was naïve to believe everything would be fine." She responded, listless. "I even thought that I..." she trailed off, the forbidden words on her tongue. No, she could not say such a thing now.
It occurred to her that maybe she would never have a chance to say it.
"Melia..."
"You should go." She said, defeated. The woman walked past him to grab the glass of wine and bottle from the coffee table. When she turned to face him, she plastered on a soft smile, as if everything was alright. "Goodnight."
Then Melia proceeded to her bedroom and closed the door behind her. For a moment, she leaned against it, closing her eyes, feeling the exhaustion wash over her.
She should not have allowed him to visit. She should have stayed on her own. Alone.
His footsteps padded nearer and stopped just on the other side of the door. For a brief moment, Melia imagined him putting his hands on the door, trying to feel for hers through the wood and metal. Turning around, she laid her forehead against the door, straining to hear the breath he drew, any sound he would make. She felt her free hand touch the doorknob. Maybe she should go back to him. Ask him to—
No.
It did not matter. He would leave soon. And it would all be over.
She waited until she heard the footsteps receding and the outer door close. Then the High Entia moved and placed the bottle and glass on the night stand. Slowly, Melia stripped and slid into bed with sigh. As she fell back against her pillows, she exhaled, all the tension she held escaping her body.
Melia picked up her glass and closed her eyes, thinking on what had just conspired. Had she invited him in looking for a fight? Possibly. But she also wanted his company. Desired it. There was no lying to herself. When Dunban left, there would be a hole in her heart, and it would not be easy to fill. A tear slid down her cheek. Maybe she would never fill it and she would have to just...go on. Hadn't he said something like that? Ultimately, that's all you can do.
Numbness gave way to anger, despair, and guilt. She should have been focused on the mourning of her people. But her mind refused to ignore the present heartache. It was silly of her to believe that their relationship had a future. That it would eventually become a permanent fixture in her life. Because now it was over. Severed so quickly, like that with her father, brother, and mother. And she was left grasping at it, before it disappeared into thin air.
So she grieved.