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tamingthemuse2013-02-23 04:40 pm
tekia.livejournal.com) wrote in tamingthemuse2013-02-23 04:40 pm
Entry tags:
Prompt# 344 - Murder - She Hadn't Loved Him - Tekia - Original
Title: She Hadn't Loved Him
Fandom: Original
Prompt: Murder
Warnings: character death
Rating: PG-13
Summary: One man gives everything once he falls in love, but once everything is gone, what's left behind?
Once, he had loved with all his heart.
She had been his heart and his whole world. From the moment he had met her to the moment when she had finally allowed him into her own heart, he had been hers. He had loved her with all he could until the point came when he hadn’t known where he stopped and she began.
He doubted she had felt the same, for she never seemed to have difficulty in leaving him when her job called her out to the far reaches of the land, or when someone needed her help, and, even as she left him, he loved her for it. She hadn’t been weak like him.
She had been the strongest person he had ever known. She had been beautiful in his eyes, and she had shone like the sun at noon. She had been a force of nature to reckon with.
The daughter of a fisherman and a priestess, she knew no fear, and she had always gone after what she wanted. When she wanted the horn of the elk that hid in the forest, she went out with a spear and killed the great creature herself and used the horn for a flagon until it had been destroyed by the fire that had taken their home from them.
And then it was her that ordered the rebuilding of the homes that the fire had eaten. It had been her that went to the fire god that lived beyond the forest to offer payment for peace from the fires that raged over their village during the high summer drought.
When she wanted a child, he hated himself for how much he didn’t want a child with her. She was his world, and he wasn’t hers. But a child came, and he learned to share, because when she was with their daughter, she was happy, and there was nothing he could do to hate something that brought her such happiness.
Their daughter looked more like him than her, and she followed him around everywhere as soon as she learned to walk.
She changed him in a good way, for it was his daughter that taught him what it really meant to love. She looked up at him with eyes that were so similar to his own, full of adoration and love, and he was hopeless against the affection that bloomed in his chest for her.
He learned to love again.
And then he learned fear and terror.
And then he learned sorrow and a pain that never left him. A pain so intense that it made a home for itself in his chest where that love had once filled him.
He held his wife’s bloody body in his arms, curled around her as if he could take the pain she was suffering into himself. Her breath rattled in his ear as she gasped for a breath that did her no good, for her chest was no longer whole and there was blood everywhere.
Even as she lay broken, she was beautiful as she reached for him, cupping his cheek in her hand, staining his skin with her blood. Her eyes were bright with pain and unshed tears. Her lips moved silently, but he knew the words she spoke weren’t for him.
She had never loved him as much as he had loved her.
She died with their daughter’s name on her lips, his tears on her cheeks.
He held her hand to his cheek until well after her fingers had gone lax and cold.
When she went, his heart went with her. He wanted to lay beside her and let his life leave him, for what was he without his heart and soul?
His daughter curled around him as he had curled around her mother, her small arms tight around his head, her body shaking with the force of her sobs.
People came and took her body from them. He couldn’t protest as her cold fingers slipped from his grasp, leaving behind trails of blood on his cheek.
His daughter curled up into his lap not dissimilar to how his wife had laid and clung to him, calling to him, begging him to come back to her. He clutched her to his chest, eyes unseeing, only knowing that this child was his wife’s love and heart. She was all he had left of what he had loved with his whole being.
They sent his wife’s soul into the afterlife through fire.
Many people had died that day and the beach was filled with the pyres of those they had lost, the sky dark with the cloud of smoke. The god from the far side of the forest came to them to personally light the pyres with his own fire. From the ashes poured wealth the god gave back to the people, for it could not give back the lives that had been taken, but it could give back enough to rebuild their homes and livelihoods.
He thought about revenge for a long time. Those that had come to their land, killed his wife, taken many as slaves, weren’t hard to find, but he was one man, and weak. His reason for living was gone, and they had taken her from him. He lusted for their pain and suffering.
But his daughter did not.
She sat with him, gazing at him with his own eyes, worry and fear filling them.
As he stared down at his daughter, he thought of his wife. She would have gone to the fire god and thanked him for his offerings to them. She would have gone out and helped the people of the village to rebuild. She would have plotted and planned the efforts to rebuild their lives and never once gave a thought toward murder.
She had been stronger than him.
She had been beautiful.
He smiled down at his daughter and nodded his head. She returned the smile and rested her head on his chest as he embraced her.
She was young and looked far too much like him than her mother. But she had her mother’s heart and her mother’s beauty.
He couldn’t teach her something that his wife wouldn’t have, and so with the following days he put away his heart and pain. He took her with him when he went to the fire god to kotow and offer thanks.
The god recognized him, although he had never gone personally to stand before the god until that day. It reached out and touched cold fingers to the red stains on his cheek that his wife had left him with. Then it turned its eyes upon their child and recognized her.
They didn’t speak; his daughter was too scared; he was too numb; and, the god was too serene. They left the god with its blessings and returned to their village. To the tatters of their lives.
He helped with the rebuilding, focusing on the job at hand rather than the pain that wanted to cripple him. He put one foot in front of the other, one day at a time.
His daughter grew as strong has her mother had been, and he felt pride that he had help mold her into something so similar to her mother. She had been taken from them, but her daughter could bring some of that brightness back into the world.
And then a day came when the sky grew dark with rage, the ocean thrashed with towering waves, and the sun turned its back on them. Demons battled in the sky, and humans fled for their lives. They all huddled in the dark corners of their homes as the demons’ war approached them, terrified.
Through a crack in the shutters, he watched as the demons fought, tearing into each other with vicious strikes that ripped skin from bone, that tore the earth from the ground and sent waves of water rushing into the village with the force of the magic used.
His daughter screamed in terror when the water slammed against the walls of the house, spilling inside. He held her tightly to his side, a new anger and rage filling him as the demons sought to rip each other apart without a care for those that they step upon. Something cold and foreboding settled in his chest and he hid his child in the house before opening the door, ignoring her screams for him to return.
He couldn’t save his wife, and she had taken his heart with her when she died. He probably couldn’t save his daughter now, but he would be damned if he let her die when his wife had given her very life to protect her.
His wife had never loved him as much as he loved her. But their child had made her happy, and he was helpless but to do what he could to keep that which made his wife happy in this world, no matter what the cost.
She had given her life for their child, and so would he.
He took a deep breath and stepped through the door, closing it softly behind him to face the demons that lurked outside, and the ones that lurked in the place where his heart should have been.
Fandom: Original
Prompt: Murder
Warnings: character death
Rating: PG-13
Summary: One man gives everything once he falls in love, but once everything is gone, what's left behind?
Once, he had loved with all his heart.
She had been his heart and his whole world. From the moment he had met her to the moment when she had finally allowed him into her own heart, he had been hers. He had loved her with all he could until the point came when he hadn’t known where he stopped and she began.
He doubted she had felt the same, for she never seemed to have difficulty in leaving him when her job called her out to the far reaches of the land, or when someone needed her help, and, even as she left him, he loved her for it. She hadn’t been weak like him.
She had been the strongest person he had ever known. She had been beautiful in his eyes, and she had shone like the sun at noon. She had been a force of nature to reckon with.
The daughter of a fisherman and a priestess, she knew no fear, and she had always gone after what she wanted. When she wanted the horn of the elk that hid in the forest, she went out with a spear and killed the great creature herself and used the horn for a flagon until it had been destroyed by the fire that had taken their home from them.
And then it was her that ordered the rebuilding of the homes that the fire had eaten. It had been her that went to the fire god that lived beyond the forest to offer payment for peace from the fires that raged over their village during the high summer drought.
When she wanted a child, he hated himself for how much he didn’t want a child with her. She was his world, and he wasn’t hers. But a child came, and he learned to share, because when she was with their daughter, she was happy, and there was nothing he could do to hate something that brought her such happiness.
Their daughter looked more like him than her, and she followed him around everywhere as soon as she learned to walk.
She changed him in a good way, for it was his daughter that taught him what it really meant to love. She looked up at him with eyes that were so similar to his own, full of adoration and love, and he was hopeless against the affection that bloomed in his chest for her.
He learned to love again.
And then he learned fear and terror.
And then he learned sorrow and a pain that never left him. A pain so intense that it made a home for itself in his chest where that love had once filled him.
He held his wife’s bloody body in his arms, curled around her as if he could take the pain she was suffering into himself. Her breath rattled in his ear as she gasped for a breath that did her no good, for her chest was no longer whole and there was blood everywhere.
Even as she lay broken, she was beautiful as she reached for him, cupping his cheek in her hand, staining his skin with her blood. Her eyes were bright with pain and unshed tears. Her lips moved silently, but he knew the words she spoke weren’t for him.
She had never loved him as much as he had loved her.
She died with their daughter’s name on her lips, his tears on her cheeks.
He held her hand to his cheek until well after her fingers had gone lax and cold.
When she went, his heart went with her. He wanted to lay beside her and let his life leave him, for what was he without his heart and soul?
His daughter curled around him as he had curled around her mother, her small arms tight around his head, her body shaking with the force of her sobs.
People came and took her body from them. He couldn’t protest as her cold fingers slipped from his grasp, leaving behind trails of blood on his cheek.
His daughter curled up into his lap not dissimilar to how his wife had laid and clung to him, calling to him, begging him to come back to her. He clutched her to his chest, eyes unseeing, only knowing that this child was his wife’s love and heart. She was all he had left of what he had loved with his whole being.
They sent his wife’s soul into the afterlife through fire.
Many people had died that day and the beach was filled with the pyres of those they had lost, the sky dark with the cloud of smoke. The god from the far side of the forest came to them to personally light the pyres with his own fire. From the ashes poured wealth the god gave back to the people, for it could not give back the lives that had been taken, but it could give back enough to rebuild their homes and livelihoods.
He thought about revenge for a long time. Those that had come to their land, killed his wife, taken many as slaves, weren’t hard to find, but he was one man, and weak. His reason for living was gone, and they had taken her from him. He lusted for their pain and suffering.
But his daughter did not.
She sat with him, gazing at him with his own eyes, worry and fear filling them.
As he stared down at his daughter, he thought of his wife. She would have gone to the fire god and thanked him for his offerings to them. She would have gone out and helped the people of the village to rebuild. She would have plotted and planned the efforts to rebuild their lives and never once gave a thought toward murder.
She had been stronger than him.
She had been beautiful.
He smiled down at his daughter and nodded his head. She returned the smile and rested her head on his chest as he embraced her.
She was young and looked far too much like him than her mother. But she had her mother’s heart and her mother’s beauty.
He couldn’t teach her something that his wife wouldn’t have, and so with the following days he put away his heart and pain. He took her with him when he went to the fire god to kotow and offer thanks.
The god recognized him, although he had never gone personally to stand before the god until that day. It reached out and touched cold fingers to the red stains on his cheek that his wife had left him with. Then it turned its eyes upon their child and recognized her.
They didn’t speak; his daughter was too scared; he was too numb; and, the god was too serene. They left the god with its blessings and returned to their village. To the tatters of their lives.
He helped with the rebuilding, focusing on the job at hand rather than the pain that wanted to cripple him. He put one foot in front of the other, one day at a time.
His daughter grew as strong has her mother had been, and he felt pride that he had help mold her into something so similar to her mother. She had been taken from them, but her daughter could bring some of that brightness back into the world.
And then a day came when the sky grew dark with rage, the ocean thrashed with towering waves, and the sun turned its back on them. Demons battled in the sky, and humans fled for their lives. They all huddled in the dark corners of their homes as the demons’ war approached them, terrified.
Through a crack in the shutters, he watched as the demons fought, tearing into each other with vicious strikes that ripped skin from bone, that tore the earth from the ground and sent waves of water rushing into the village with the force of the magic used.
His daughter screamed in terror when the water slammed against the walls of the house, spilling inside. He held her tightly to his side, a new anger and rage filling him as the demons sought to rip each other apart without a care for those that they step upon. Something cold and foreboding settled in his chest and he hid his child in the house before opening the door, ignoring her screams for him to return.
He couldn’t save his wife, and she had taken his heart with her when she died. He probably couldn’t save his daughter now, but he would be damned if he let her die when his wife had given her very life to protect her.
His wife had never loved him as much as he loved her. But their child had made her happy, and he was helpless but to do what he could to keep that which made his wife happy in this world, no matter what the cost.
She had given her life for their child, and so would he.
He took a deep breath and stepped through the door, closing it softly behind him to face the demons that lurked outside, and the ones that lurked in the place where his heart should have been.