The Past's Crescendo of Passion; His Final Night

Written by Bagelgoose

It was a near nightly occurrence, him lying alone in his bed at night, with his wife out and about at the grounds. The cold fabric of the sheets barely kept him warm without her company. Even with the fire roaring beside him, flowing its heat over his skin, he was frozen in his bed, hating the cold as always. Twitching and shivering on the mattress, holding himself in a crude attempt to mimic the care he missed before everything. Curse his blood. Curse his former king. Curse the man he had been for years, the man that couldn’t have been truly him.

It was eerily quiet now. He was used to the sounds of the night, his children scampering at night to steal a snack from the cupboards. He missed the sounds of Crucify giggling as she scurried back to his room, Sear and Brutus in close company as they enjoyed the fresh warm biscuits that their mother had made just for their nightly endeavors. When she was gone with another and he was home, they would keep him company. They would draw, sculpt, tell stories, even bake when they had the ingredients to make their treats. Granted, they were never as good as their mother’s, but the time shared was a sweeter treat than any biscuit or cookie. But they grew up, and soon left him in the house alone.

He rolled to the other side of the bed, reaching out to hold her close, but only bringing more of those cold sheets close. It was horrid, this cold air replacing the one bit of joy left should have been. A groan in anger escaped his misty lips, but soon enough a sorrowful choir started to seep from his mouth. Faint cries soon turned into roaring sobs as he screamed against the empty blankets. His lungs ached as his heart tore itself apart. Minutes turned into hours of his horrid cries, his breath running out just as quickly as his tears evaporated from his face’s heat.

The clock chimed. Two in the morning.

“Love…” He whispered to the blankets, hoping she would reappear. Hoping she would stop hiding in the void of the blankets. But he knew she wasn't there. “Why can't you stay with me?”

His sobs quieted down as he slowly dragged himself off the bed, his feet gently pressing against the wood of the home he built for them. No, its just a house now. He stood up, shaking from his lack of energy, hobbling to the door of the bedroom. He peered outside, a lying game of hide and seek for his wife. Stepping through the hall, peering into the once decorated room of his children. The lights of the home were blown out the moment she left the house. He couldn't bear to have them on. It would only illuminate the loneliness of the house.

Through the hall, past the bedrooms and bathrooms, and into the kitchen. The marble countertops painted by the red wine spilled nightly, adorned by various pills and substances. He peered at some of them. He knew that neither he nor his wife took them. After all, neither needed anything to enhance their performance. There laid an old batch of biscuits, maybe a few days old. They had sat there since their children moved out that week. It's a shame they never got to be eaten by the ones who loved them. Never to be appreciated now. 

It was too quiet. Perhaps the sound of the fire would help him concentrate? No. It would make it far worse. It's all so terrible, the feeling of the nights he once adored. 

“Well above,” He mumbled, peering at the door across the kitchen. “What I would sacrifice for you to walk through there again. Without someone else.” A pathetic tone in his voice, pleading to the Wells, but never once answered. It was such a cold reality. A lonely, freezing feeling whenever he looked at the door. A step forwards, a reaching hand for hope. Begging for a rush, a leap, a gasp, some form of embrace from her, before suddenly-

Creaking of wood as the door slowly opened. The dark of the night outside barely blanketing the familiar figures outside. The beautiful silhouette of his betrothed, and the powerful outline of a dear friend from long ago. It was expected, yet still hurt more than anything. He stood there, staring at his wife. There was no anger, no rage or hatred despite the normal expression before everything. No, it was simply still, a glare of acceptance and pain.

“Whatever you’re here for, grab it quickly.” He said in a colder tone, but there was a shakiness in his voice. He wanted to scream out, to yell for her to return to him, to express any care or love for him. But it was best this way. Otherwise he’ll never see her again-

“Ubathi, give us one moment. Please.” Tinea’s voice spoke in a caring tone. An echo of concern, of love maybe.

“I thought you said this would only be a moment?”

“Yes, but- Please just a moment?”

“Fine.” Ubathi jokingly snarled before stepping back into the forest guarding the home. She was always understanding, that he knew from when they first met, but he never thought she would be the one to take Tinea from him. Then again, no one was aware the two were still married.

Tinea closed the door behind her, visibly shaking through the fur of her body. She was nervous, it was clear. He continued to look away from her, scared to show his weakness. The two had their backs facing each other, terrified of each other to speak, to look, to act as if they were in love like before. Thats all he ever wanted right now. To not be alone like before, not forgotten by his family, his own wife. And yet, thats what his mind screamed would happen that night.

“Listen,” Tinea started, slowly turning back to him, a tear already starting to well up. “I know this hurts he, but I need you to-”

“How long has this been going on?” His voice cracked.

“Well, uhh, a few-”

“Days? Months? Years? How long have you been spiting me?”

“Dear, let me-”

“Since I reawakened?” He started to march towards her, not out of anger, but of unbridled fear. “Since I entered stasis? Since I lost my battle to Ratil? Since you first met her?”

He tried and tried to break the machine since they were together, but he never could be more than a turning stone in the river. “Answer me. I beg, I plead. Tell me the truth!”

“A year!” She yelled out, guilt plastered over her blank eyes. “Its been a year! Tonight! A year since it started! Its been only a year!”

“A year since it was official? Since I was gone you decided to bed another woman? Had it continued since before then? How long has this damned affair lasted?”
“I swear its been just a year! Only a year since I’ve given her my heart!”

“Given… did you wed her? In my absence have you given another your hand?”

“No, its just… its just for flings, nights only. Dear-”

“Stop.”

“But Darling-”

“Stop!” He screamed out, clutching at his neck stump, as if choking his tears out of his stone body. The essence of his kind lit up the room for a moment, before going still, a faint light where his proud helm was. “Stop calling me those names.”

Tinea stared in sorrow, tears rolling down her face. It would have been so much easier if she kept it more hidden, been more tactical about her affair. But this was for the best. He started to croak out, slumped over, his voice cold and tired. “Why… Why did you do this to us?”

“I was… starving,” Tinea said slowly. Her voice was quiet as she looked from her husband. “You had been gone for years, away in your old home. I thought you were so caught up in the idea that Gourh was alive that you forgot about me.”

“Only a few months ago did anyone realize you were alive. During your time away, me and Ubathi got close. We have a similar hunger, a hunger you and I once shared. To be close, connected, to have that sense of affection. I hated the idea of marrying off after you vanished, so we kept it at flings, just passionate nights, but soon those nights took so much of my time.” 

“She offered more and more as time went on, to stay with her and she would help our kids.” Her voice started to crack, barely able to continue, failing to breath as sobs took each breath. “Without her we would be starving. You know how much they eat, they wouldn't be able to survive on our huntings or on the Apocalypse Cult’s handouts. We needed her.”

“No, we did not.” He felt small. Insignificant. Did all the teachings he gave their children mean nothing? All those late nights, helping their children with their personal problems. Teaching them survival, how to thrive and help those they love, was it all nothing in Tinea’s eyes? “You are the only one who needs her.”

“I loved you, Tinea. I loved you more than anything, more than I loved Gourh those hundreds of years ago. I could never replace you.” He looked up, a cold expression adorned by yellow tears from his faulty eyes. “But clearly I was replaceable.” 

The two stood there, silently. Both welling tears. The house no longer creaked, the wind no longer blew, and the hum of the creatures outside silenced. The only thing they could hear were the guilty tears streaming down their face’s curtains. But the silence was broken by rapid footsteps. A rush, a leap, a gasp, then an embrace. he held Tinea tightly, bawling out in pain and agony. His colossal figure slumped down to her height, crying on his knees as he held her, as if he'd die if he let go. 

Tinea, however, just froze. Crying still, but not holding him as well.

“... I do love you,” Tinea said weakly. He peeked his head up, hopeful, pleading up at the sun of his life to simply stop there. To just let their love be- “But no longer in the way you want me to.”

A nudge, a push, a groan, and a broken embrace as Tinea pulled away. He looked up quickly, seeing her teary eyes staring down at his own facade. Behind her eyes showed no lies in her statement, instead a long broken heart, slowly repairing thanks to another in her life. A kind, gentle woman, who denies Tinea’s love but shows her own care and support. It hurt, burning his own soul within his body, to see the love he swore his blood to adoring another being. But, in tandem, it brought hope. Peace. An embrace.

He sat there, pondering. He remembered the days the two would spend, wandering the jungle of Aegrotune, the damp weather not able to ruin the cheery expressions on their faces. They would frolic in Faefield, plucking flowers as they discussed the names of their future children. They spent their nights in Lepidop, speaking with the followers of Famine about their lives, Tinea always wishing to live in that forest due to its beauty. The two adored the nights in the Amethyst Desert, the beauty of the purple dunes and the violet storms swirling in cool tapestries. Even after the chaining, the two would tend to the crops in Sol Valley, assisting the weak and granting them solace. These were memories he cherished, that he never wanted to let go.

But change is vital to grow, and the sun he adored must set eventually.

“I know,” He spoke solemnly. He struggled to stand, the stone of his body quivering as he glanced back down. “I hate to see you leave, Tinea.”.

“But I must.”

“I know.”

“I did love you. You know that, right?”

“I know. I always knew.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“I know.” A whisper of pity, but one of compassion. “But the pain will pass. You were everything, but I am grateful you loved me to begin with. It was an experience that I will forever praise.”

She wiped her eyes under the large veil, and looked up again, a soft smile on her face. He stepped aside, allowing her to walk through. Her strides were confident once again, graceful, her beautiful wings unfurled now. She reached for a large umbrella, the once quivering fingers now still as they grasped around.

“I’m grateful as well.” She whispered before stepping away. He stood at the doorway, slowly slouching as his confidence wavered again. The bright light shone again, the tail of magic flickering in slight happiness, a contempt joy. She walked under the doorway, down the soaked path, before suddenly bolting back. A rush, a leap, a gasp, an embrace.

“Thank you for everything.” And just like that, she ran down the path to meet with her new lover, the umbrella blanketing the two. He simply stood in shock, admiring the beauty of the scene as they wandered back to the cultgrounds. The billowing clouds above pouring the soft shine of rain, the trees swaying to the rhythm of the watery beat. It truly was beautiful. But the scene was equally painful as it was admirable. From the depths of his hollow heart sprouted a newfound grace, stepping into the rain as well to stare to the moon. Its beauty; his first and true love. And in this love, he will adore forever more.

He raised his arm, reaching up more. He wished to dance within the maria of the moon, to once again spin with its rotation. He wanted to watch the world from above, to meet with home once more. But this changed world is what his heart craved, so there he must lay. He plunged his arm down, into the center of all the pain and grief. Where the beauty and attraction lay, the soft blue hue of it dragging him close. And so, he craved finality.

A rush, a leap, a gasp, and a cold embrace.