Now we’re both casualties in this

She hovered over him, almost like a mother would do with her upset child. That was her position in this, her instinct that drew her to him like a moth to a flame. His face twitched with her words, her eyes growing softer – almost apologetic at having said the words she did. It wouldn’t stop her, though. She needed to learn the situation from him, and he needed to learn how to move on and let go. And when he began to speak, his voice quivered. “Her name was Arwen.” She wanted so badly to tell him that she knew the name, but she refrained. She didn’t want him to think that the nightmares of his own had caused him to utter the name in a frenzy, a frantic sputtering of words in his unconscious state. And so, she stood and listened, lifting her head a bit away from him but keeping her attention glued to the Laurelin that lay in pure exhaustion in front of her.

He began to speak further, his head lifting but blindly staring as he informed her his previous position from another life. And Rexanna did what she knew best, stay silent and wait. The Thief nodded along here and there with his words, understanding a similar situation that she herself had endured, yet he continued on. He filled her in, speaking words and breaks, and breathless phrases that she knew exhausted him mentally and physically. She cared for Thranduil, the gilded siren did. And she cared that he was confiding these truths to her. Rexanna would never find the correct words to tell him how much she would appreciate this. And as the story grew further and further along, and the words slipped his lips of being pregnant with his son, her eyes creased ever so slightly in concern. The azure orbs trailing over the gilded man with the leaf-like star.

His words painted a picture in the mare’s mind, imagining things the best she could to understand where he was coming from. Yet, it all came back around when his distant gaze turned to her. Her head lowered to him to look upon his face as he continued, his voice straining and pain evident as the words left his lips. ‘She took the last blow…’ Her brows furrowed and sadness crossed her gaze, dropping them from the view of the Gold. She didn’t even know where to begin. She wanted to tell him anything that would help, but her words failed. They ripped themselves off of the paper and dove into the fires. With that, she realized, no matter what she could say, it wouldn’t help like she wanted them to. She wanted to tell him that she understood – but she didn’t. She wanted to tell him that she’d be there for him, but she knew she couldn’t possibly stand by his side forever for him to confide into. She wanted to tell him that she’d never let anyone hurt him again – but how could she be sure she, too, wouldn’t be breaking a promise?

Her gaze barely returned to him, a mere whisper across his body as it shuddered. However, Rexanna’s gaze lifted as Haldir approached and settled by Thranduil. Marembo tried his best to shake the water from his pelt before creeping across the earthen floor to his bonded side. His little blue gaze surveying the pair on the ground, the sadness reflecting from Rexanna’s own heart to the tiny beating one in the polecat.

“What do you want of me Rexanna?” A frown found her lips. She didn’t know, and that was partly what hurt her more. “To let them go?” His voice cracks, and her ears flicker back. She closed her eyes and turned her head away from him slightly, shaking her head ever so slightly.

“If I leave the past… They’ll die.”

She moved closer to him, her head returning to the view of the Laurelin. Her ears pressed forward, tipping toward the gilded man. Her exotic lined face lowered further, aiming to press the bridge of her nose into the side of his neck. “I just want you to be happy.” Her voice was a whisper on the wind, barely audible over the thunderous crack from the storm outside. It rumbled and argued, fighting the winds and clouds as she did her best to keep a composure for him. She didn’t know his story until now – likewise, he didn’t know her story until now. Perhaps this is what they were, simply broken stories with torn bindings and words bleeding into one another, just waiting for the right person to come along and try to fix their broken pieces. Deep down, it would never be fixed. You could replace the binding, reprint the pages, give it a happy ending, but the book would still know that things aren’t always as they seem. And perhaps that was the part that hurt the most.

“They’ll never leave, Thranduil.” She began, bringing her head back to her own space. “No matter what you do, they’re always going to be there. A little ghost in the back of your mind.” She paused. “I’m asking you to not let them haunt you. It would’ve been beautiful, that other life. Arwen would have had a beautiful son, you would have been a father, and even though it didn’t happen like that I want you to imagine it.” She began to stutter, faltering in her words ever so slightly. Her head shifted away from him once more as her knees bent to allow her to lie beside him once again, Marembo coming up to the Thief’s neck and settling there as she turned her head to Thranduil. “You can find love, make a life for yourself, and keep them there. You have to stop blaming yourself.” her voice was soft, laced with concern – as if she were telling him the words that she needed to hear for herself. “If you had a chance to speak with them again, what would they say when you told them you’ve spent the entire time since they’ve been gone blaming yourself and trying to write the wrongs off your list?” She questioned, ears flickering backward in uncertainty. “Would Arwen want you to move on, or spend the rest of your life tormenting yourself?” She asked quietly.

Turning her head away from him again, her gaze found the darkened corners of the cave. “I tried to spend all this time after leaving Halyven and Aciend blaming Calstron for everything that happened to me – yet I couldn’t. I blamed myself for never being good enough, never being what he wanted. And I constantly chastise myself for being the reason my son died. And yet, I came to Helovia and tried to turn my life around, and when Calstron came here and marked me – he was in a frenzy. He could’ve killed me, and he didn’t. He chose to torment me instead.” She paused, her gaze flickering to the dusty floor. “I’ve had children since my miscarriage. Three of them. He even put me into an early labor with my set of twins.” A frown found her lips. “I could’ve died there too, and you know what he told me after it? He told me he ’found somebody new, someone he loved and wanted to spend the rest of his life with’.” Sapphire orbs grew harder as she turned to look to Thranduil. “There’s no justice in this world. I’m beginning to accept that fact. I want you to join me in trying to do better than what happened in the past.” Her voice was soft as a sigh passed through her cream lips.

“I won’t let you forget about Arwen and your son. I won’t let them die, Thranduil. Only if you promise me that you’ll stop punishing yourself.”

"Talk."

Every kiss and every word—

They were bullets spraying hazardly from lips.

Rexanna