A Life Stolen
Title: A Life Stolen
Author: ninedaysaqueen
Beta: openedlocket - Thanks, hun!
Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of The Thief, The Queen of Attolia, The King of Attolia, A Conspiracy of Kings, nor of any characters, locations, and elephants contained within. All rights of the Queen's Thief series belong exclusively to Megan Whalen Turner and her respective publishers.
Spoilers: Book 1 only.
Rating: G/K
Genre: Drama/Angst/Drabble
Word Count: 300 (approximate) - Excluding author's notes.
Summary: A drabble bridge in The Stolen-Verse. Eugenides considers his mother's death. Angst warnings. Like wow...
Author's Notes: Honestly, I think the only point of this fic is to make my readers cry, which makes me feel slightly evil. Oh, well...
On QT_Fic.
Enjoy!
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He missed her.
Not as pain nor as grief (those would come later) but as an ache - a soulful yearn for a missing piece, a lost element, a facet of himself left out and only just remembered. A part of his day was gone, like the sun had set before it'd risen or puddles had formed on the ground when it hadn't rained in weeks. It was like a table where he'd always set things had been moved to the other side of the room, or someone had reordered every book in the library without him noticing.
Something familiar was gone. Evaporated like steam from a kettle, faintly there for just a moment then vanished from his sight. He looked at the world and wondered how it went on. How could the grass still grow and the clouds still move across the sky? A fragment of space had shattered and nothing seemed to notice. Not the birds who still flapped their wings, not the sheep who continued to chew the hay, and certainly not the court of Eddis, who arranged their hair and went for strolls and ate their meals as if nothing had changed; as if everything could move on just as it were...
It wasn't possible.
The fabric of reality had shifted. The sky should have turned red, all the flowers should have withered for grief, and every human in the existence of time should have shed a tear the instant her life was snuffed out.
His mother had fallen.
Through the night, under starlight, thick like ice, down to the stone - hard, cold, and unforgiving to a body so frail.
Her voice was mute, her warmth had faded, her eyes looked no more, and worst of all, he would always fell the absence of her hand in his.
Absence.
In the state of being away.
Forever away...
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Thank you for reading,
ninedaysaqueen