"Don't."
Serenely sad words reach my ears. She grabs the blade of the dagger with strength aware of the Godly Berserker Potion in my veins. If I force the dagger from her hand, I risk cutting herself more, however, that won't kill her. Despite that, I cannot bring myself to cut her palm.
After all, no matter how cruel I can be, I am just a 'man' in the end.
"Zeraya," I softly speak her name and gaze at her dull uncompromising eyes. "Let go… It will be easier if you just let go… I stoked their rage, and will be too focused on me… Go back, and gather our kin… Tell them that there is another day to fight again…"
Ignoring my words, Zeraya throws the dagger by its blade. Her blood splatters to my chest. Only now did I realize how 'black' my clothing is. The normal leather tunic that the elves wear is now like the purest ebony.
"Let's go…" Zeraya softly tells me as she carries me by my waist like a sack of rice. She lightly jumps from what I reckon is a twelve feet high wall to inside the county walls. A horse waits by our side, and she rides it with me in tow, carrying me in a princess-like manner.
I sigh. "Aah~ this is so romantic, don't you think so?" I flirt. I smile. I die.
Just why am I so eager to die? Now that my revenge is all but complete, and there is nothing for me to do anymore… shouldn't the world just leave me alone? "Ze— raya… There is no need to do this… There is no saving me anymore…"
Zeraya has a sizable sack on her other arm. She clips her legs to the horse ensuring that she and I don't fall. I think I will fall in love again. Why are you so manly?
"Drink this..." She softly says to me, her face in my eyes starting to get blurry. I endure the unstable balance as the horse carries us in a gallop.
Pouring something down my throat, I feel the sticky liquid get inside me. I assume this must be a Life Potion. I don't know exactly how did Trudviar organize this raid, but this deserves a big compliment. "It is so smart of you guys to acquire this… Did you rob their storage?" I whisper, feeling the little bits of strength inside me dwindle.
It is not even twelve hours.
I fear that it might be the same for others. What will happen if the potion's effects on them suddenly fail? The consequences will be tragic. Hmmm… I should put more trust in Allenwood… I hypothesize that I am losing strength now because my body cannot take the abuse anymore.
"Please… just go…" I tell Zeraya.
My sight blurs, and together with my sense of smell, touch, and hearing, the world abruptly turns black.
I don't know what I look like right now. The reason why I decided to commit suicide is that I am already on my last legs. I am dying, and my body is failing me. It is too evident that I am a lost cause.
So.
Why?
Just why?
I strain my eyes. I squint hard. I want to see her… I want this black world to cease and return my eyesight. I desperately want to see her visage. The very 'elf' who so desperately is 'retrieving' me, and dares go against my arrangements. She is as equally stubborn as Trudviar, but not as annoying… I had her company for an idle period of time. She is my bodyguard, my sword trainer, a friend, and somewhere in my heart… a lover…
A lover, huh?
No, that will be too one-sided… Sharing a kiss doesn't really seal the deal… A romantic part of me yearns for this, but I know, she deserves better. I guess… It is more of a 'mutual understanding' or maybe even 'mutual attraction' between us. To put it more bluntly, she is a special someone to me…
Special enough that I would love to spend the rest of my life with her.
Sigh…
Reincarnation.
Perhaps, is there a next one after this? I am an elf, so maybe I will end up where dead elves go. Too bad, I am an atheist… I am not actually so sure what is 'Fae', except that it means 'Faith Begets Fate' and is homogenous to 'Fairyland' in the ancient elven tongue.
"I am sorry," I gather the little bit of strength I have. "You all deserve better…" I mutter weakly under my breath recalling the brave heroic elves fighting by my side.
In the world of darkness, I find myself a second chance. Light returns to my eyes, and filling my sight is the crying Zeraya. Tears stream down her rosy pink cheeks grieving.
In a dark alley, her small weak sobs echo in intermittent painful wheezing. A dark blot of red colors her abdomen, and just beside where her heart should be is a stuck arrow.
No longer are we on a horse, but are on the shady narrow pathways of an alley. Zeraya is stooping on her knees, weak, and maybe even in more pain than I do. At least, my nerve endings are long numb to the pain, and I am feeling nothing.
But Zeraya's grimace suggests otherwise.
Don't be like that! You are strong! You are an adventurer! I want to shout these words to her, but I cannot reach her. Against an overwhelming number of foes, and with baggage like me, she will inevitably be in danger. Why didn't you abandon me as I commanded you to do? Am I not your King!?
I am angry, but too weak to release this pent-up frustration, I can only look at her weak figure.
Zeraya is crying. Not due to the physical pain her wounds carry, but for a different reason. She clutches and puts pressure on her abdomen. She carefully breaks the arrow shaft afraid that the iron bolt of the arrow might accidentally brush the more delicate interior of her chest. The sack of potions she once had are now all lost due to the angry soldiers from front and rear still busy searching for her traces.
The county soldiers and the royal army are in a frenzy, though initially serving different masters, they are able to reconcile their differences as they combine their might on purging the 'Elf King', thus creating a righteous justification to cause wanton destruction to the once prosperous county estate of the Urdens.
Zeraya bites her lips with misery clearly written on her face. Her tears continue to downpour, dripping on her chin, and wetting my forehead, I listen to her crying too helpless of her plight.
"This is unfair! You don't get to leave us like this! You are our King! You are our hope! What Potion!? Reduce 300 to 400 years of lifespan? How certain is that!? Huh? You have to live knowing that you are to die someday, but not like this. You are just giving up! That's why it is unfair! Why do you get to decide when you will die? I don't want it! I don't like it! So, you have to live!"
I cannot. I am dying. I am so sorry. Please give up on me. Don't be a stuck-up. You can do it. You can move on. I whisper the words to my heart as I am incapable of uttering them anymore.
"Fuck you, your majesty! Live! Even if it is just one more day! Live! Who knows? Maybe you will live again to see another day tomorrow, so please... You must live! FUCK! Why are you like this!? This is so unfair! The elves need you! How about Kara? She will need you to guide her on your ways. How about your uncle, Trudviar? The bastard will fuckin blame me if you die here! And Varen, that blind fuck, he will be sad too, moreover, guilty, too aware that it is him who condoned your actions today!"
I know. Fuck me, right? But again, I am sorry. I cannot even move my pinky. Kara will be fine. She is strong. Trudviar won't blame you, I can promise you that. And Varen will come to terms someday, I have faith in his confidence. Again, I speak of the wordless dialogues that will never reach her.
"This is… fucking unfair!"
Ignoring that this is a battlefield, that they are at war, and people might find them any time soon, Zeraya lets out her emotion exploding, her howls, like the mad crying of a widow.
"This is unfair… to me…"
I am sorry. But you are strong. So, you have to move on. Please. Not just for my sake, but also yours. Zeraya, I love you…
Releasing all of her emotions at once, she stops crying… The sides of her eyes are sore red. The wet tears mix with the blood on her palm as she swipes the tears away. The damsel in distress forces a smile on her lips, and with a soft peck on mine, she confesses her love.
"I love you…"
I love you too…