[June 30th, 2184]
Martin stood alone in the Human Councilor's office, the silence around him thick and heavy. The room felt different without Athria by his side, her steadying presence absent in the space where he had grown so used to seeing her. He shifted slightly, bruises still fresh, his face bearing the exhaustion of the trials he'd survived. His mind, however, was elsewhere-still lingering in that final fight, in the last moments with her.
The Councilors-Turian, Human, and Asari-sat with their usual formality, though there was an unmistakable weight to their expressions as they looked at him. The Turian Councilor spoke first, his voice firm but lacking any hint of warmth.
"You performed... admirably," he said, his mandibles twitching slightly, a restrained acknowledgment that felt almost reluctant. "The situation has been contained, and as agreed, all charges will be dropped."
Martin gave a slight nod, the movement stiff, his jaw set. Without Athria here to exchange a glance with, the recognition from the Councilors felt hollow, like an echo of what it could have been.
The Asari Councilor spoke next, her tone softer, almost sympathetic. "Your efforts foiled a dangerous plot and prevented an irreversible catastrophe. We owe you a debt of gratitude, Mr. Winters."
Martin forced a polite smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Just glad I could be of service," he replied, voice low, carrying a weight of grief that he tried to mask with composure. But even he could hear the hollow edge to his words, a trace of bitterness beneath them.
Udina, the Human Councilor, observed Martin carefully, something unreadable in his gaze. "You've proven yourself, Mr. Winters. Someone with your skill set would be valuable to the Alliance military. Have you considered joining us? We could use a man like you to maintain stability in these uncertain times."
Martin blinked, pausing as he took in the offer, a faint ghost of a smirk crossing his lips as he imagined how Athria would have rolled her eyes at such an idea. But her voice was gone, replaced by an ache he could barely stand to acknowledge.
"Thanks, but... I think I'm done here," he said, his tone carrying a sadness that even his usual sarcasm couldn't hide. "I've got my sights on something else. Somewhere less... familiar."
The Councilors exchanged glances, their expressions mixed with relief and perhaps even gratitude to know they wouldn't have to manage someone like him here. Martin felt their collective release, the silent acknowledgment that they wouldn't need to contain the force he represented. He forced himself to ignore the pang of emptiness that followed.
With final nods, the Councilors dismissed him, offering their words of gratitude. He turned and stepped out, the doors closing behind him with a finality that reverberated through him.
He walked the halls of the Citadel, the familiar sights feeling strangely distant, each step a reminder of the person who was no longer there to walk beside him. The stillness felt like a burden, each corner he turned filled with memories of the partnership they had shared, the trust he'd come to rely on.
In the hangar, he boarded the skycar alone, settling into the passenger seat. As he stared out over the cityscape, he absentmindedly took out the owl pendant -a small token, one he'd clung to for reasons he could barely explain. His fingers traced its edges, worn smooth over years of handling, and he closed his hand around it tightly, the silence around him a stark reminder that he was truly alone.
For a moment, he could almost hear her voice, a gentle reprimand urging him to push forward. It was as if she were there, seated beside him, her eyes filled with that unyielding determination she'd always shown. He let out a long, steadying breath, feeling her absence cut through him like a blade.
As he looked out at the Citadel's skyline, he muttered softly to himself, a line that had lingered in his mind, haunting him ever since she was gone:
"Ef ek hefði hjarta, ek gæti elska þik."
The words fell into the silence, raw and aching, a confession of sorts-one that he would never get the chance to say aloud.
The memories of their last moments together flooded him, the ferocity with which she'd fought by his side, the way she'd always understood him without words. He could almost feel her presence, as though her spirit lingered, bound to him by the experiences they had shared.
As the skycar lifted off, Martin leaned back, closing his eyes. His thoughts drifted to the unknown future waiting for him across the stars. He didn't know what he would find there or if he could leave this pain behind. But if there was one thing he'd learned from Athria, it was that he couldn't let his past define his future. He opened his eyes, his grip tightening on the owl pendant.
"I'll make it count," he whispered, a promise not only to himself but to her memory. "For both of us."
The skycar rose, leaving the Citadel behind, carrying him toward the unknown-a place where, perhaps, he could find peace or, at the very least, a way to honor the legacy of the one person who had seen through his defenses and stood by him until the end.
As he flew toward the stars, the silence felt less like solitude and more like resolve. He would carry Athria's memory with him, letting it guide him as he stepped into the unknown, determined to carve out a life she would have been proud of-even if he had to do it alone.
