Asteria
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~~~ PAST SCENES ~~~
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One x One Lion's Pride (Closed | Flashbacks)
- Thread starter Asteria
- Start date
Asteria
⚔️
NOT LIES
‘It is cold,’ Krysanthe remarked as a shiver took over her. Her hands pulled at the blanket she had covered herself with it and brought her knees even closer to her chest in an attempt to warm herself. It was in vain. It was still cold and she still shivered so slightly but she did not yet move from the balcony – it was night and there was peace… calmness. The world did not seem to boil at night.
She barely comprehended the familiar sigh that escaped the older woman’s lips. “You should sleep, my lady, it is cold. I will not want to hear your brother complaints if you got sick again,” the voice that spoke was familiar as well. Amerei. The woman that stood at her mother’s side for years to an end. Held her hand when Damon was born and shared her tears. Her pain, her happiness, her suffering; she would have shared her weakness as well if it would have kept her alive for longer. Held her hand when she was born as well and even if she was allowed to return to her home after her death, she refused to do so. Damon did not need her, no, he had enough men he encircled himself with but Krysanthe needed someone. She was so thin… so fragile and in Amerei’s eyes, she needed nurturing. If Alys would have been alive to see her though, her little flower blooming, how much happiness would have filled her heart. Enough for her to remain alive.
Silence seemed to be the answer to her words and the woman pulled at her shawl, her attention no longer resting upon embroidering. “Maybe I can get the servants to fetch some warm milk and honey? Your favorite? Hm?” Krysanthe shook her head though, another silent denial. Her blonde curls were so dark then, in the night, that Amerei could recall the image of Alys so vividly.
The woman did not know what to say, her lips forming a thin line as she left her hands to rest on her knees. There was silence. And then there was her soft voice. “How did she die?” The hazel eyes did not dare to meet hers.
Amerei’s eyes widened slightly at the question. Opened her mouth to respond. Closed it. “Well, my lady, she was… weak and the pregnancy-“
“Not that,” she interrupted her – not why. She knew why, knew the complications of the pregnancy, of the weakness her mother succumbed to. “I know that…” She could sense Amerei’s curiosity then, waiting for her to say what she truly wanted to know. “Was she happy?” No, that sounded senseless. How could one be happy if their death was near? “Was she… heartbroken?” There were many rumors. As a young girl, she paid little attention to the whispers, but now she was a lady and there were so many. So many. That her father had not loved her mother. That the marriage had been so hasty because she was already pregnant. That, despite her suffering, her father shared the bed of so many others. That he did not care. Did it matter, in the end, though? They were both dead.
She knew that the long pause between her question and the answer that would mean that a sweet lie could be formed. “Please, no lies,” she turned her head from the darkness of the sky then, to the woman’s eyes. Her father’s death had been hidden from her. Everything seemed to be deeper than what she was left to see. Deeper and darker than the night itself.
Amerei’s eyes softened. “No lies,” she promised but she needed to find the strength to speak freely. A sigh parted her lips, first, and her hands gripped at the material of the skirt. “Her heart… writhed. Love and marriage are heavy stones to carry at times, my sweet. But she did love your father,” but how could she tell her that such a poisonous love had been the death of her heart? “And Jason cared for her.” Krysanthe’s eyes turned from her though – she knew the difference between love and care. She did not want just to love and be cared for. She wanted to be loved. Marriage. Marriage without love sounded as a trade, a simple sale of a body in which the soul was imprisoned. The families were simple mercenaries, looking for the best deal. Time would tell what her deal will be.
“She loved me?” Even that question sounded stupid when it parted her lips. She was barely a week old when her mother gave in to the calling of the Gods. A parent’s duty was to love and cherish his children, wasn’t it?”
“So much,” Amerei responded with such softness in her voice. “You and your brother were the moon and the sun of her life.” There was even a soft chuckle but she could feel its heaviness. If she would turn her head even a little, she may see her cry. “Alys was so certain you will be a girl. I told her that she could not know but she would tell me that a mother knows while she smiled down at you, there, in her womb. My little bud, she used to call you. You will see, Amerei, she will spread her petals and come into this world. The Golden Flower of the West.” Even then could Amerei recall her voice. It always sounded as if she sang a lullaby.
Krysanthe could feel the salty taste of a tear upon her lip. “That’s why she named me Krysanthe?” The Golden Flower.
“You always kicked when she mentioned the garden and flowers. Do you want to go see the garden together today? she would ask you and you would kick right underneath her palm. Your father wanted something else, the name of an aunt, a mother, grandmother but she fought relentlessly for you to be named so.” Her last joy.
Silence again – a silence she could not bear, no more. She wanted to know more, she wanted to know so much more, as if the words could help her create her mother right in front of her. See her in her dreams and feel her touch. “She was broken, Krysanthe. She was in pain. She sought for love for so long. And when she found out she was pregnant with you, it no longer mattered. She took care of herself so much, knowing that so she would take care of you as well. I will fight for her, I will fight to see her born and healthy. She wished nothing more from the world. Death could come for her but if she saw your pair of hazel eyes just once and saw the light of life in them, she would happily go with the Stranger.” There had been regret that she would not see her grow but her Krysanthe came into the world. Amerei’s smile was broken. “She held you and Damon in her arms during her last days. Sung to you and hummed. Damon cried all the time,” he was older then and he understood what will come. “But you were so peaceful in her arms.”
She no longer knew what how to stop but she heard the pained sob coming from the blanket. Krysanthe no longer shivered because of the cold but because of the tremble of her own heart. “N- No, my sweet,” the woman raised immediately from her seat and reached out to her, kneeling at her side as she brought the thin girl into her arms – not a lady, but just a child. And so broken for a child. Krysanthe did not part from her, imagining the arms of her mother. Amerei’s humming filled the painful silence of the memory of the dead.
‘It is cold,’ Krysanthe remarked as a shiver took over her. Her hands pulled at the blanket she had covered herself with it and brought her knees even closer to her chest in an attempt to warm herself. It was in vain. It was still cold and she still shivered so slightly but she did not yet move from the balcony – it was night and there was peace… calmness. The world did not seem to boil at night.
She barely comprehended the familiar sigh that escaped the older woman’s lips. “You should sleep, my lady, it is cold. I will not want to hear your brother complaints if you got sick again,” the voice that spoke was familiar as well. Amerei. The woman that stood at her mother’s side for years to an end. Held her hand when Damon was born and shared her tears. Her pain, her happiness, her suffering; she would have shared her weakness as well if it would have kept her alive for longer. Held her hand when she was born as well and even if she was allowed to return to her home after her death, she refused to do so. Damon did not need her, no, he had enough men he encircled himself with but Krysanthe needed someone. She was so thin… so fragile and in Amerei’s eyes, she needed nurturing. If Alys would have been alive to see her though, her little flower blooming, how much happiness would have filled her heart. Enough for her to remain alive.
Silence seemed to be the answer to her words and the woman pulled at her shawl, her attention no longer resting upon embroidering. “Maybe I can get the servants to fetch some warm milk and honey? Your favorite? Hm?” Krysanthe shook her head though, another silent denial. Her blonde curls were so dark then, in the night, that Amerei could recall the image of Alys so vividly.
The woman did not know what to say, her lips forming a thin line as she left her hands to rest on her knees. There was silence. And then there was her soft voice. “How did she die?” The hazel eyes did not dare to meet hers.
Amerei’s eyes widened slightly at the question. Opened her mouth to respond. Closed it. “Well, my lady, she was… weak and the pregnancy-“
“Not that,” she interrupted her – not why. She knew why, knew the complications of the pregnancy, of the weakness her mother succumbed to. “I know that…” She could sense Amerei’s curiosity then, waiting for her to say what she truly wanted to know. “Was she happy?” No, that sounded senseless. How could one be happy if their death was near? “Was she… heartbroken?” There were many rumors. As a young girl, she paid little attention to the whispers, but now she was a lady and there were so many. So many. That her father had not loved her mother. That the marriage had been so hasty because she was already pregnant. That, despite her suffering, her father shared the bed of so many others. That he did not care. Did it matter, in the end, though? They were both dead.
She knew that the long pause between her question and the answer that would mean that a sweet lie could be formed. “Please, no lies,” she turned her head from the darkness of the sky then, to the woman’s eyes. Her father’s death had been hidden from her. Everything seemed to be deeper than what she was left to see. Deeper and darker than the night itself.
Amerei’s eyes softened. “No lies,” she promised but she needed to find the strength to speak freely. A sigh parted her lips, first, and her hands gripped at the material of the skirt. “Her heart… writhed. Love and marriage are heavy stones to carry at times, my sweet. But she did love your father,” but how could she tell her that such a poisonous love had been the death of her heart? “And Jason cared for her.” Krysanthe’s eyes turned from her though – she knew the difference between love and care. She did not want just to love and be cared for. She wanted to be loved. Marriage. Marriage without love sounded as a trade, a simple sale of a body in which the soul was imprisoned. The families were simple mercenaries, looking for the best deal. Time would tell what her deal will be.
“She loved me?” Even that question sounded stupid when it parted her lips. She was barely a week old when her mother gave in to the calling of the Gods. A parent’s duty was to love and cherish his children, wasn’t it?”
“So much,” Amerei responded with such softness in her voice. “You and your brother were the moon and the sun of her life.” There was even a soft chuckle but she could feel its heaviness. If she would turn her head even a little, she may see her cry. “Alys was so certain you will be a girl. I told her that she could not know but she would tell me that a mother knows while she smiled down at you, there, in her womb. My little bud, she used to call you. You will see, Amerei, she will spread her petals and come into this world. The Golden Flower of the West.” Even then could Amerei recall her voice. It always sounded as if she sang a lullaby.
Krysanthe could feel the salty taste of a tear upon her lip. “That’s why she named me Krysanthe?” The Golden Flower.
“You always kicked when she mentioned the garden and flowers. Do you want to go see the garden together today? she would ask you and you would kick right underneath her palm. Your father wanted something else, the name of an aunt, a mother, grandmother but she fought relentlessly for you to be named so.” Her last joy.
Silence again – a silence she could not bear, no more. She wanted to know more, she wanted to know so much more, as if the words could help her create her mother right in front of her. See her in her dreams and feel her touch. “She was broken, Krysanthe. She was in pain. She sought for love for so long. And when she found out she was pregnant with you, it no longer mattered. She took care of herself so much, knowing that so she would take care of you as well. I will fight for her, I will fight to see her born and healthy. She wished nothing more from the world. Death could come for her but if she saw your pair of hazel eyes just once and saw the light of life in them, she would happily go with the Stranger.” There had been regret that she would not see her grow but her Krysanthe came into the world. Amerei’s smile was broken. “She held you and Damon in her arms during her last days. Sung to you and hummed. Damon cried all the time,” he was older then and he understood what will come. “But you were so peaceful in her arms.”
She no longer knew what how to stop but she heard the pained sob coming from the blanket. Krysanthe no longer shivered because of the cold but because of the tremble of her own heart. “N- No, my sweet,” the woman raised immediately from her seat and reached out to her, kneeling at her side as she brought the thin girl into her arms – not a lady, but just a child. And so broken for a child. Krysanthe did not part from her, imagining the arms of her mother. Amerei’s humming filled the painful silence of the memory of the dead.
