Just a Clip

Her sobs pierced the night, terrible, melancholy sounds that made the heart yearn to stretch out a comforting hand. But there was nothing here to offer her comfort of solace. There was nothing, no one, here to protect her from the pain that came with duty. Her hair fell about her face in a tawny cascade, shielding her tear streaked cheeks and identity from view. Old and weathered, the bench upon which she sat creaked and moaned as her shuddering body caused it to move begrudgingly with her. She didn’t feel the sting of the breeze as it began whipping through the air and she couldn’t see the rippling clouds gathering above her in the black sky devoid of star or moon.
She didn’t know how long she sat there. She never knew. She stayed until she could face it all again. Until she could face them all again.
Alone, she sat on the rickety bench until her tears dried, as they always did. Though each time she came to this place and opened herself, it was harder to leash that woman back inside. She had to be strong and she had to be collected. People depended on her now.
Only the night belonged to that chained, lonely, dreamer.

“Foolish woman.” She whispered harshly as she pulled her arms around herself tightly and listened to the howl of a lonesome wolf.

She stared longingly out into the dark woods beyond her, envying the animal with every fiber of her being. To be able to roam, with a life filled possibilities, each page unwritten...
God did she miss that.

“Foolish indeed. It‘s the dead of winter and you‘re barefooted.”

Not a muscle twitched as she watched a figure emerge from the forest. He was a ghost, a figure that had haunted her dreams for years. She was filled with a mixture of emotions, all of which unhealthy for her state of mind.

“How did you find me?” She asked, eyes unwavering as she retreated back to the coolly detached woman she was expected to be.

“I myself have spent many a night here. You’re not so crafty Calla. Not to mention I‘ve followed you out here before. Don‘t you remember? Back when the cherry blossoms bloomed, when you were supposed to be tending to your chores, we spent our nights out here. Always planning and hoping.” He paid no mind to the scorching look she aimed at him as he moved in and sat on the edge of the bench.

She didn’t want to reminisce. It had been two years since she’d seen that face, perfect still even with the scar hooking around his right eye and down his cheek.

“I’ve followed you out here for a few weeks now. Not that you’d have noticed.”

She didn’t know whether to growl or sock him in that smug, oh too devilishly handsome face. She wanted to do both, but had the energy to do neither.

“You had no right-” She began, her body vibrating with anger at the though of her time to herself being intruded upon.

He held up a hand to silence her, surprising both when it worked.

“I merely came to offer you an ear and lend a shoulder.”

It had been years since she’d heard it from him; that sincerity. Years since she’d taken comfort in his willingness to listen. That had been a different time. A time when nothing had been so complicated and she hadn’t had to hide herself from the world.
A time when she had been her own woman.

“How noble of you, Ryder.” She muttered flippantly.

He turned to face her, his mouth set in a hard firm line.

“Don’t Calla. Don’t make me the bad guy. “

The look he earned from her was blank and without emotion.

“You’re not the bad guy? Then where were you when I needed you two years ago? Where were you when I was being used as a pawn? Where were you when I was given away like some farm animal?“

Her voice began to rise and the poker face she had erected fell swiftly as she stood and rounded on him.

“Where the hell were you when I lost my life to end a war?”

His face was a mask of guilt and sorrow as he watched tears well up in those beautiful green eyes. He stood and reached for her, knowing she’d push him away but needing to touch her. Needing to sooth her.
Much to his surprise she didn’t put up much of a fight when he pulled her into his arms.

“I’m sorry Calla. I’m so goddamn sorry.”

The loud hoot of a owl made Calla jump from her slumber on the bench. Rubbing the back of her hand over her eyes she sat. Instantly she looked around.
A dream, she sighed. For the past few nights she’d come here and had the same dream. Ryder. She hadn’t seen him in years and for the first time in a long time the dreams had come back.

“Foolishness.” She scoffed to herself as she stood.

She’d been naught but a child, an unhappy lonely child. He’d been little more than a child himself, charming, and new. He’d called her to her untended needs of affection and love.
And he’d end up betraying her years later, leaving her defenseless and with a choice that would save lives.
Or end them.
As far as she was concerned, he would die without her tears and she would go on as life saw fit.
Unhappy and alone amidst a kingdom.