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An embrace from death is final, yet fair. His whispering comfort often cradles the wicked to rest in sweet, yes, but regretful end, and in swift forgiveness his heart does sing. For he knew of the suffering that life did bring. However when came a boy with a tattered soul, with his authority death did pay for his toll.
“Boy” -Death revied in gentle woe- "I have known of thee and watched thee as my own. You greet me now as you've sent those to greet me before. You look upon me now as an old friend nothing more.”
When the boy looked to the heavens his breathless form did stir, and not in avarice he wept, spilling whispers of,”brother” buried in a rhyme of languid apologies. Death was moved by his tears so loaded with loss. But found his spirit waning, for this boy had acted in Death’s own name, bringing Death's own existence to those who otherwise hadn't the right to meet him.
“Boy” -Death revised- “I pity your torment, I pity your plight; your companions, your sorrows, your torments, for they were all built on the tragedy of your birthright.”
The boy had long since run dry his well of tears, yet his gaze held no contempt, nor ill-will to Death. For to him, he had already scorched the world that had scorned him so.
“I regret…”, he started thinking only to one soul, “...my brother”, he finished, letting the meaning lull into the silence for he knew to say a hushed plea more would crack his small control.
“Boy”-Death restated- “you needn't tell me more, but I do question your sincerity, to which, if I let you, for that one life you adore, would you live as he would have had to you?”
“Death”-said the boy-“i beg you”-he cried- “I'll swear my existence by it. Let me save my brother! My soul! My heart! Anything you desire! I'll trade it all for the chance to make this right.”
His desperation warped his voice to near silence, yet Death dipped his head in deep understanding.
“Your eyes” Death offered
“What?” Muttered the confused boy
“I shall let you unring your knell, boy, change your fate, but in recompense you may never lay eyes upon what you could have had. Not just in the life I return to you now, but the next, the next, and so forth till my services no longer need heed on this plane.”
The boy's red eyes seemed to dampen once more. Before the echo of a smile etched itself along his pursed lips.
“Death”-called the boy- “such a trivial price to pay, I take your offer, oh thank you, thank you”
Through shaky words and trembling breath he expressed his most sincere gratitude and with final leaking eyes reached out to Death. Who pulled back. For this time Death paid the ferryman his fee, and with one short decree.
“Boy I agree, smaller price to pay for the one the world regrets too true and wholly”
Make amends, boy
.
Let it be known now that the day war broke free, the world ravished the continent in both thunder and hail, a warning scream, a begging cry.
Let it be known the day piece had descended, the sun had not reared head, for the little pats and taps of rainfall served more a purpose instead, to water the new greenery that had grown in the now most fertile of soils.
As such it was just, that Deon was sailed back to consciousness and awoken by the soft smell of this rain dancing along the cool breeze, gliding across his skin. His eyelids flicked open, (he knew by the laps in tension along the base of his eye), yet no image came to him, not a screen of black not an ounce of light, a complete lack of.
He did not start, instead he reached, grasping, feeling tenderly the grain of wood at his left side, the sleekness of well worked leather beneath him, that of cow hide. He then focused on the brisk clop of horseshoes hitting stone, the recognisable sway and turbulence of a carriage being strown.
A small giggle parted the damp air, sending vibrations through his throat as he reveled in every note, reeling in the knowledge Death had been kind,he paid no mind to the warmth of a flowing tear that ran down his cheek.
Then a shift, a caught breath, -not his own- stole his attention.
“Captin?”-That gruff tone like sandpaper that had grown soft from use. He could recognise anywhere, Cletter. His knight, his comrade, his friend now anew. "Are you…alright?”Each syllable clung to hesitation, with it his tone rose in anticipation.
“Cletter”-He probed, slowly reaching out into the unknown, just hoping to find the well of that voice.- “you’re…I'm…it's good to see you again”. He silently rejoiced.
A blunt noise that rung like a door being kicked, sprung from the left. Mere moments later a calloused hand grasped his arm, another was held to his forehead, its heat revealed to him how truly frigid he felt.
“Someone get a doctor!”-Cletter yeld- “The Captains Gone Mad!”
The carriage abruptly halted, forcing Deon to hitch forward.
“WHAT!”
One shriek stated
“CAPTAIN”
Another boomed
“not again”
The third begged
“WE'LL SAVE YOUUUUU-”
And so on and so forth
A barrage of concerned shouts and hurried footsteps pushing against wet dirt erupted in the distance, most concerned, many patronising, all with persistence. Deon's teeth ached from the force used to push them closed.
“Everyone out! Everyone out!”-Cletter yeld- “Captain? Can you hear me? How many fingers am I holding up?!!”
Deons usual scolding remark fell limp on the edge of his tongue, replaced by ridiculing whispers as his head hung-
“Captain…”-His thoughts must have taken his attention to long as Cletters now troubled voice pushed him back to reality- “don't worry I'll carry your lifeless body back to-!” .
“I'm not dead you idiot!!” Deon struck his fist out towards the voice, making blunt impact with -what he assumed to be- Cletters chest, not once regretting his rash choice .
“AW!”-Cletter groaned- “ yep”- he weezed-“you're still in there…Captain can you see me?”
A scoff parted Deon's lips, but he did curtly shake his head, if nothing more than to recognise Cletters question. Deon's brows relaxed,releasing a tension he hadn't known was on the rise,but as scoff turned to sigh. “Cletter”-He impeded Cletters worried babble- “would you believe me…if I said…death returned me to life years before I'd died”
Cletter released an exasperated breath, perfused with concern“You really decided to go insane the second the war ends, huh” his voice churned.
.
“I’m sorry to hear about your loss of vision”
His voice was consumingly low yet methodic slow, as each word leered over Deon's kneeling frame. His Majesty in all his grace and former glory, the sun reborn, remade from what little ash of that Deon had left in his wake.
“Its nothing for your majesty to be concerned about"
Our hero held his head high whilst holding back a harrowing tone, in truth Deon hadn't forgiven this emperor however reluctantly felt as if he paid companions enough.
“A hero such as yourself … its a true shame”-Edoardo languidly remarked-“Please make your request”
Deon barely had time to hold his breath, knowing full well what to request to steer him away from the path that led to his death.
“I wish to be excused from the military and relinquish my title of hero”
He spoke clear, no waver in tone, no room for interpretation. And whilst the image of the world around him was still ungraspable, the stares of those around him became palpable.
“What…?”
.
The carriage swayed like a drunken sailor, yet rattling less than Deon's own mind. Each turn of the wooden wheels drew him closer to what he had left behind. He wondered if the trail leading to the old estate was the same, the path he scorched, he wondered if it was now tamed.
“Sir…were here” A servant's hesitant voice split through Deon's thoughts, as a hand goaded him down the carriage steps, and then on the wind he recognised a weep. He tried to rush forwards but stumbled on his feet, but before he could fall two pairs of hands grappled him into an embrace.
“My darling boy”A mournfully sweet voice wrapped around him, and as if on instinct he tightly squeezed the warmth it originated.
“Mom…” He longingly whispered fighting of the lump forming in his throat, as a gentle hand softly brushed away a burning tear. Caressing his cheek and culling his fear.
“my son”-Another much deeper (yet still broken) voice cradled him too.
“we’re so sorry”
And he bawled like a child once more, being lovingly held in his parents arms. Thus they stayed as such for what felt like an eternity too short, until breaking through the silence (mixed with Deon's quiet whimpers) an all too familiar voice knifed his heart.
“Deon”The firm yet apparent remorse filled tone broke him once more.
“...Brother…” He felt it, another pair of arms rapping around him pulling him closer and tighter than before.
Deon finally closed his unseeing e
yes, resting, enveloped in his family's love. Relaxing for the first time in many years, practically drowning now in his tears.