Each gust of wind against my wet skin makes me shiver. The air is bitterly cold, a striking counterpoint to the warm spring in which I am submerged. The water reaches my shoulders, and my pale wings are spread across the surface - floating. Out like this, they seem undamaged, but as I stretch out my right wing a twinge of pain reminds me that it is not so. That pain is familiar, at least. The newer wounds are sharper, especially where the brackish water touches the open wounds.
I had thought myself safe.
I had been wrong.
I am always wrong, it seems. Letting my guard down had been a mistake, and when I'd turned at the sound of hooves, I'd thought I'd see Arthas coming to join me on a walk around the border. Instead it had been the cream and lavender face of my nightmares. Months of meek obedience were impossible to break, and I'd taken each of them with a compliance that would have made my mother proud.
The warm water washes away the bitter scent of their sweat and the blood and semen at my legs. I still smell it in my mind, even as the sun sinks lower and the stars begin to emerge. When I pull myself from the water at last, I have resigned myself to my final task.
"@[Arthas]?" I call, hoping desperately that I do not find him with that pretty roan or sultry-eyed Rey. "Arthas?" There is a last chance for redemption, I think; Mother had told me children who were wanted were the strongest. I am not sure I want a child, but I do know that I want to bear Arthas' young far more than I do any of the nameless strangers who'd spilled themselves inside of me.
"Arthas? Where are you?"
I had thought myself safe.
I had been wrong.
I am always wrong, it seems. Letting my guard down had been a mistake, and when I'd turned at the sound of hooves, I'd thought I'd see Arthas coming to join me on a walk around the border. Instead it had been the cream and lavender face of my nightmares. Months of meek obedience were impossible to break, and I'd taken each of them with a compliance that would have made my mother proud.
The warm water washes away the bitter scent of their sweat and the blood and semen at my legs. I still smell it in my mind, even as the sun sinks lower and the stars begin to emerge. When I pull myself from the water at last, I have resigned myself to my final task.
"@[Arthas]?" I call, hoping desperately that I do not find him with that pretty roan or sultry-eyed Rey. "Arthas?" There is a last chance for redemption, I think; Mother had told me children who were wanted were the strongest. I am not sure I want a child, but I do know that I want to bear Arthas' young far more than I do any of the nameless strangers who'd spilled themselves inside of me.
"Arthas? Where are you?"
