Disclaimer: The Red Rising universe is owned by Pierce Brown, and this story is not for profit.
Warning: This fic contains spoilers for tragic events in "Dark Age".
Summary: Rhona and Alexandar have fought to make a name for themselves in the Reaper's armies. Both young, they long to fulfill the glorious mission that will make them full-fledged Howlers. They have been rivals, despite being on the same side. But time and camaraderie have broken down the barriers, and now they orbit toward each other in a dance neither wants to end.
~ Ephemeral ~
As we approach the Lady Beatriz, Alexandar can't stop smiling. Every time he does, the tip of his tongue peeks out to inspect his newly fashioned teeth. His bald head, a result of prolonged exposure to radiation, gleams under the rays of the sunset. I must confess, it gives him a certain majesty, although I miss the long platinum hair that used to trail behind him.
The Mercury liberation campaign has caused him much damage: he's lost a good 25 kilos, both ears were torn off, and his back looks like a topographical map due to multiple acid burn scars. However, I've never seen him smile so much.
He's no longer the affected colossus who used to stand beside my uncle at official events, lacking that proud air befitting the brightest grandchild of Lorn Au Arcos. He's a lancer of the Dawn, satisfied with having fulfilled his duty. He is, at last, a howler. In another moment, I would be gnawing at my own elbows with envy, today I am simply grateful that he has returned to us.
When we first met, when I joined my uncle's team, he gave me the impression of being a fat tick, feeding off his grandfather's fame and very willing to start sucking up to the Reaper of Mars. We were rivals, despite being on the same side, both fighting to stand out, both under the shadow of eminent relatives. In some strange way, after our last missions together, the barriers that kept us apart for so long have fallen. Suddenly, when he calls me "scrapper," there's a tender inflection in his tone. And more than returning the insult, I want to hug him.
His spirit is so different from the last time we saw each other. He's happy, and for the first time, he allows me to be part of his happiness. I know how much he blamed himself for what happened to Angelia; he felt responsible for all those impaled by the Knight of Fear when exhaustion took hold of him. It wasn't entirely his fault, everyone knew that, but his tenacity in Tyche saved thousands of lives, and, thank Jupiter, it wasn't at the cost of his own.
Even before being recognized as the Hero of Tyche, Thraxa had no hesitation in stating that Alex is the best asset in our army of his generation, and she's not one to dispense praise.
After emerging from the critical condition he arrived in Heliopolis, he insisted on paying a gratitude visit to Cato au Vitruvius, a slaver from Mercury who wouldn't be worth a second look, but thanks to whom Alexandar escaped from Atlas au Raa. I am just as grateful, if not more so than Alex, although I'm not thrilled with the character.
When we're told that Cato is busy and we'll have to wait, I see a glint of complicity in his eyes, and I'm thankful that we can enjoy a few minutes alone, without Muecas' sharp tongue needling us with his taunts or Thraxa's pseudo-maternal tender gaze. We don't suspect anything because we were finally comfortable together.
When that little flower finally deigned to receive us, I noticed a certain rejection on his part, but that strange attitude didn't fully set off my alarms. Until we received the alert from my uncle. Cato wasn't who he claimed to be but Lisandro, the grandson of Octavia au Lune, heir to the ancient tyrant of society. His mere presence in Heliopolis, as Glirastes' protégé no less, jeopardized the entire operation against Atalantia. Our orders were to keep him entertained and watched; we were forbidden from confronting him on our own. We obeyed, but everything still went to hell. Somehow, that boy realized we had discovered him and attacked, taking me hostage to control Alexandar. I was the weak link and at the same time Alexandar's Achilles' heel. In the end, without realizing it, we became each other's weakness, and only then did I become aware of it.
When I wake up, sore and disoriented, his lifeless body lies motionless in the center of the room, surrounded by a crimson pool of his own blood. I scream and cry because I know, even without approaching, that there is no longer any life behind his golden eyes. Moments later, reinforcements arrive, too late, Lisandro has escaped, and Alex is dead.
They almost drag me out of the Lady Beatriz to put me in safety. My uncle barks new orders and sets off in search of the damned cockroach. They have to sedate me to stop me from kicking and hitting. In the fog of sleep, I cling to the memory of his unexpected return, when miraculously we received his call, even though hope had been lost for days after the collapse of the tunnels. I could never accept that he was dead, I never gave up hope. And... for what...? To lose him when I felt him safe and sound by my side.
It breaks my heart to know that he died protecting my life, that he refrained from attacking Lisandro so he wouldn't hurt me. But at the same time, I curse his decision, I curse being here and knowing that he will never be here again... I curse having been his weakness. It hurts to have let him down...
I try to remember a time when I felt so empty, so insignificant to the rest of the universe. It wasn't even like this when mom died. That time I had to be strong for my sisters, for the newborn and for dad. Plus, I had my grandmother's iron example in front of me. Now I feel like a damned damsel in distress, I feel weak and useless, I feel stupid for letting my guard down, and so angry that happiness lasted so little, that his presence evaporated, and the planets keep spinning as if nothing happened. That the war keeps swallowing up men like him, and the cockroaches keep reproducing.
Hi!
The couple formed by Lorn's grandson and Darrow's niece strikes me as very touching. For me, it was like giving Fitchner and his red wife another chance. My heart broke for what the author did to Alexandar. I recently finished Dark Age, and the book left me devastated. Since the previous book, I've questioned Lisandro a lot (well, at first he was a promising boy), but now I've come to detest him, really... There's only a small consolation almost at the end of the story that I won't spoil for you...
Still, I cling to the torment of Alexandar's death to bring you this short story, originally published in Spanish and translated through ChatGPT. I apologize in advance for any mistakes or inconsistencies..
SS.
