The Loneliest Traid

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  • Published: 2 Apr 2017
  • Updated: 13 May 2017
  • Status: Complete
Love and death and war and Gods and blood and magic and dancing and rest and revenge and kings and fate.
Don't worry, within these three stories you'll know yourself,
And I will put you back together again.

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71. Anyway

Love.  That is more than any of us can hope to know, to live off of.  Love.

This world is split down the middle in two equal parts - those who believe that aggression is our ultimate motif, our way of being since the dawn of time, and those who believe that love and kindness will triomphe in the end.

It doesn't really matter which side you're on, the truth is - unfortunate as it may be - we will only evolve through violence and we only be remembered though our good acts.  Well, we can be remembered other ways if you'd find it worth it?

Cinis never felt this love.  He never had it, and whether he deserved it or not, I’d argue that not one of us can decide that he was less than us.  And more over, none can say that he deserved what he got.

He died in the first raiding of Sinder’s palace when the weather began to turn cold and frost covered the brickwork.  The desert came to a stand still, and he was hit by shrapnel when the explosion rang through the halls of the ballroom.  There was a grand party going on, and only a handful died.  Fate decided that the prince would be one of the souls lost that night.  The thing is, we can sit and thank the Gods that he was lost, but his father held his limp body and cried that he had never asked for all this.  He would mourn the loss of what he thought to be his final child, and it would drive him insane.  Those who mean little to us, are the world to another, and the only thing that we can decide is that he died without.

Without love, longing, power.  He died thinking of dancing with the sister he felt was stolen, and he would die without a heart in his chest, and that is the way.

But be careful - before you do celebrate what this world lost, remember, even dead men cast shadows, and his father grieved, because he had loved, and now without, he went insane.  Love is more than any of us can hope to live off of.

That evening, word was sent out.  The heir was dead, the king was soon to go.

Love, sometimes drives us.  To do better, insane, away, across deserts - it depends.

And in stalked a girl, her skin tan, her hair blonde, her face young.  Too young for who she was.

“Favilla.”

“Hello, your majesty,” she said, staring into Cinis’ open eyes, “I’ve heard that you’re to die soon, hm?”

“You are a monster now, why should I take you back?” he spat.

She rested a hand on her brother’s neck, and looked up at the king with bloodthirsty eyes, “I don’t need you to want me, father, I don’t need anyone to want anything again.  It’s time that I got what I need.”

Her skin was red with blood, her hair streaked with handprints, her face a snarl holding teeth like daggers, and a smile so pretty, you’d be sure that she had seen love, but her mouth proved that sometimes, the love you get is not what you want.  And Favi knew who she wanted.  

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