la jeune fille marquée
Her name on his lips is a sound she knows will never tire of. The way he caresses the syllables, the low honey of his voice making her feel warm and beloved though she doesn't deserve it. Even if he some day discovers the truth of her and leaves, the memory of this will linger. Her skin is electrified with anticipation, imagining his gentle touch, even while the hurt, animal part of her shrinks away from his presence. The world had crumbled too much. What would he think of her?
And then, through the haze of despair, his voice shines like a light. The words are garbled at first, almost indistinguishable from the sound of her heartbeat and the pounding in her head, but as her hearing sharpens she realizes he is opening his heart to her. The tale of his life paints new strokes across what she knows of him, the depths of his grief and the far reaches of his generous heart laid bare. His trust touches her. She mourns with him, and listens, with patient sympathy.
Vulnerability shows stark in his eyes. Minette feels she has never loved him more than in this moment. She sees the cracks, the torn and mended pieces, and in him she recognizes herself. Both are hurting, and hopeful, with a darkness that runs deep within their blood. When her tears finally fall, they are for him.
“I would give all I am to see that you are never hurt again, that such despair and regret never haunts you.” She closes the distance between them, the lack of him suddenly feeling unbearable. She runs her muzzle softly across the expanse of his shoulder and neck to nuzzle his cheek.
Eyes bright and full of tears, she looks up at the golden stallion, resolved. Her voice trembles and she is afraid her words will fail.
“I hope, I want, that change to be a good one, but I am afraid it would not be if you knew me better. Oh Magnus, I love you. I love you with an eloquence to express it that I do not possess, but I cannot hide the darkness from you.”
There is a long moment of silence, for though she is resolved, the telling of her grief is no easy task.
“I do not remember my family. I wish, so badly, that I could. There is a sense of happiness and peace as my foundation but my first true memories are of-of Gryffen.” Her voice falters, and she casts an anxious glance over her shoulder. She prays the day will come when his name will not cause her to startle. “You know some of what he did, of what I endured. The second season I was there, I had my first child, a daughter. Anguisette. She was good and sweet and loving, and I knew she deserved better than what I or her father had to offer. I was a prisoner, subject to Gryffen's whims and sadistic pleasures. Everything in my heart rebelled against sending my child away, but I didn't have a choice. I found Gryffen's sister in the meadow and begged her to take Anguisette away to the Amazons.”
The memory of that day is burned into Minette's mind. The chattering, trusting voice of her daughter as she followed her aunt obediently. And the moment, hours later, when the gray mare finally turned away from the spot where her daughter had disappeared into the fog.
“It has been three years since I've laid eyes on my little love. I do not know if she is alive, or where she sleeps at night or who she loves. I do not even know if she knows of my existence, or would want to see me if she did.”
She takes a deep, shuddering breath.
“He found out. Gryffen. I knew he would. He was angry. I thought I had seen the depths of his rage but I was wrong.”
Minette blinks, pauses, and continues in a voice flat of emotion. “What he did to me I wish I could forget. Once I could walk he drove me to the mouth of a cave in the earth and left me as an offering for the evil that resided there. I was afraid. I should have been terrified. Sometimes I think... it would have been better if I had died down there.
His name is Carnage, the evil below the earth, although I didn't find that out until later. He styled himself a dark god and so I knew him. I don't have the words for the tortures he wrote across my body. The fire that turned my skin to ash, the monsters that still haunt my dreams with their slavering hunger... and the future version of myself that appeared, begging me to kill her. She had been the dark god's plaything for years upon years. She was as real as you or I, and my choice was to kill her or become her.”
Tears fill her voice then, choking the words from her throat. Though she has relived the moments of her pain in a thousand nightmares, she has never before spoken of it aloud.
“I couldn't do it, Magnus. I couldn't kill her, and she knew it, and so she sacrificed herself to the hounds of hell while I watched. They tore her to pieces and I was too much of a coward to stop her. Because the truth is, I was afraid. I didn't want to become her. I wanted her to die so I could leave and put the darkness behind me. I didn't kill her, but I might as well have.”
She looked up at him, sorrow written in the lines of her face. Her voice is low, tremulous and uncertain. Unconsciously she has stepped backward, weary, bracing herself for rejection yet to come.. “And so, that is who I am. A coward and a worthless mother and a shell of a being. I do not even know if the girl I was exists anymore. I have so little to offer, Magnus, except a damaged heart that is nearly broken.”
And then, through the haze of despair, his voice shines like a light. The words are garbled at first, almost indistinguishable from the sound of her heartbeat and the pounding in her head, but as her hearing sharpens she realizes he is opening his heart to her. The tale of his life paints new strokes across what she knows of him, the depths of his grief and the far reaches of his generous heart laid bare. His trust touches her. She mourns with him, and listens, with patient sympathy.
Vulnerability shows stark in his eyes. Minette feels she has never loved him more than in this moment. She sees the cracks, the torn and mended pieces, and in him she recognizes herself. Both are hurting, and hopeful, with a darkness that runs deep within their blood. When her tears finally fall, they are for him.
“I would give all I am to see that you are never hurt again, that such despair and regret never haunts you.” She closes the distance between them, the lack of him suddenly feeling unbearable. She runs her muzzle softly across the expanse of his shoulder and neck to nuzzle his cheek.
Eyes bright and full of tears, she looks up at the golden stallion, resolved. Her voice trembles and she is afraid her words will fail.
“I hope, I want, that change to be a good one, but I am afraid it would not be if you knew me better. Oh Magnus, I love you. I love you with an eloquence to express it that I do not possess, but I cannot hide the darkness from you.”
There is a long moment of silence, for though she is resolved, the telling of her grief is no easy task.
“I do not remember my family. I wish, so badly, that I could. There is a sense of happiness and peace as my foundation but my first true memories are of-of Gryffen.” Her voice falters, and she casts an anxious glance over her shoulder. She prays the day will come when his name will not cause her to startle. “You know some of what he did, of what I endured. The second season I was there, I had my first child, a daughter. Anguisette. She was good and sweet and loving, and I knew she deserved better than what I or her father had to offer. I was a prisoner, subject to Gryffen's whims and sadistic pleasures. Everything in my heart rebelled against sending my child away, but I didn't have a choice. I found Gryffen's sister in the meadow and begged her to take Anguisette away to the Amazons.”
The memory of that day is burned into Minette's mind. The chattering, trusting voice of her daughter as she followed her aunt obediently. And the moment, hours later, when the gray mare finally turned away from the spot where her daughter had disappeared into the fog.
“It has been three years since I've laid eyes on my little love. I do not know if she is alive, or where she sleeps at night or who she loves. I do not even know if she knows of my existence, or would want to see me if she did.”
She takes a deep, shuddering breath.
“He found out. Gryffen. I knew he would. He was angry. I thought I had seen the depths of his rage but I was wrong.”
Minette blinks, pauses, and continues in a voice flat of emotion. “What he did to me I wish I could forget. Once I could walk he drove me to the mouth of a cave in the earth and left me as an offering for the evil that resided there. I was afraid. I should have been terrified. Sometimes I think... it would have been better if I had died down there.
His name is Carnage, the evil below the earth, although I didn't find that out until later. He styled himself a dark god and so I knew him. I don't have the words for the tortures he wrote across my body. The fire that turned my skin to ash, the monsters that still haunt my dreams with their slavering hunger... and the future version of myself that appeared, begging me to kill her. She had been the dark god's plaything for years upon years. She was as real as you or I, and my choice was to kill her or become her.”
Tears fill her voice then, choking the words from her throat. Though she has relived the moments of her pain in a thousand nightmares, she has never before spoken of it aloud.
“I couldn't do it, Magnus. I couldn't kill her, and she knew it, and so she sacrificed herself to the hounds of hell while I watched. They tore her to pieces and I was too much of a coward to stop her. Because the truth is, I was afraid. I didn't want to become her. I wanted her to die so I could leave and put the darkness behind me. I didn't kill her, but I might as well have.”
She looked up at him, sorrow written in the lines of her face. Her voice is low, tremulous and uncertain. Unconsciously she has stepped backward, weary, bracing herself for rejection yet to come.. “And so, that is who I am. A coward and a worthless mother and a shell of a being. I do not even know if the girl I was exists anymore. I have so little to offer, Magnus, except a damaged heart that is nearly broken.”
ooc: well, this post was a struggle. you deserved so much better writing. *hugs* I loved responding to this.