𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐄𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄 , 𝐂 . 𝟏𝟒𝟓𝟑
drabble about the fall of the byzantine empire and maria’s death .
❛ i wondered when you would come to me . ❜
‘ for me ’ she had meant to say but the words were bitten back , swallowed down along with her useless tears , threatening to give her away . in her bones , lethargy swells like an infected wound . the city had fallen , her people too , and she with them now awaited her doom . the apotheosis of she , how they had elevated her as if she were a deity : but here and now , she knows there is not mush she could do . there is little left as the once mighty , impenetrable walls of her home crumble . ( he had come to her last , he had let everything else fall into decay before taking her life . ) alas , the siege was over at last . she wasn’t sure if she was meant to weep and pray for salvation or scream to the heavens in fury , or perhaps to let a sickening relief engulf her heart , guiltily allow it to rip into her conscious . this day would come , maria had known it would , it had only been a matter of time . in the last year , europe had looked to her as one would a mere annoyance , a sick animal , patiently awaiting for its death .
the moon’s silver embrace is cold , though the anxious fire in her stomach , paranoia’s blue flame raising to her chest , is warm , hot , scorching . it stings and it burns . when soft , amber eyes extend to the horizon , and upwards to the dark void of the sky , they drink in the last few scenes of life ; soon , she’ll be ruins , history left behind and none will bat an eye .
ah , to die at the hand of this man , whom she loved & despised in equal heaps ; svelte fingers trace the chiseled lines of the white terrace ; so holy , so pure , against eve’s dark skies . she can make out HIS figure at the entrance , barely through her hooded eyes , illuminated by dozens of dancing candles . if he says anything after that , he does not hear it , nor does she desire to . ❛ i was growing impatient . ❜
the ever growing ottoman empire looks to her then and she can see his struggle . it never was easy , digging the grave for a fellow nation with your own , bare hands . ❛ i’m sorry . ❜ his voice is final when he finally finds it and maria has to laugh , if only at the absurdity of it all . her heart aches to yell , to scream , to curse him ; him and his sultan and his armies . she aches to chase them out and away from within the walls of her suffering sacred city ... instead , red lips curve into a smile . because that is all she can do now ; eyes catch sight of her bedazzled sword sprawled on the ground , lain abandoned . any other day , she would never accept defeat , not to him , and not without a fight . but today , she doesn’t pick it up ; it continues to rest leisurely as maria leans on the rail , lifts herself up to sit and overlook the ruins , like a bird perched on a tree amidst the battlegrounds .
❛ don’t apologize , don’t . ( . . . ) i would not , if i were you . if our positions were reversed , i would not hesitate . you mustn’t either , it’s not befitting of an empire . ❜ carried away with the soft spring breeze , or perhaps it’s just dust and smoke flying away from the wreckage of her home , her voice comes in hushed tones .
he reaches out to grasp her when she finally , finally , approaches him . a hand grasps her arm , pulls her close into what once could have been called an embrace . the curtains leading to the terrace sing their beautiful lament , they dance with the soft winds , scrape against the cold floor then up they go again ; maria thinks they’ll be the only ones to mourn her when dawn comes . how swiftly history must move from mourning into morning .
cold steel finds itself nestled between her ribs before she can decide if there’s anything else she would like to say . it was not her heart he had pierced , no , she can feel it when already cold , numb , hands come to rest atop the hilt . maria’s not sure whether it was a sadistic desire to see her bleed , slowly and quietly , but not quite find death so soon , or his shaking hands ghosting over hers that caused the peculiar position of the sword .
❛ i wish i could despise you . how much easier that would be . ❜ cough slips past her bitten , painted lips , where her teeth had sunk just moments prior , as she pulls away from his grasp ; when her back collides against the wall and she slips down to the ground with a breathless sigh , she knows it is the end .
she’s angry , she’s furious … she’s relieved .
she had expected more grandeur to her death , but not even a word was uttered her way . she had expected to find glory , to hear hymns , mourning . was this how an empire would fall ? was this how he would leave her ? she felt like a dead dog , tucked away into its shunned corner .
his rough hand finds her cheek as he kneels beside her , perhaps finally realizing this would be the last time he sees her . but oh , how quickly it’s over and he raises to stand above her . the empire doesn’t stay with her , doesn’t look into her eyes again , doesn’t hold her hand or shed any tears to let her know she is more than just another slain enemy in his path . her hazed , dazed , gaze focuses on the ground , away from the red staining the white skirts of her dress , as she hears his now distant steps echoing loudly in her mind , resonating harshly within her being . perhaps it’s better this way , maria thinks , to pretend they had never known each other , though it doesn’t make it ache any less .
as he walks away , as he spares her no second glance , she finds herself wishing he will mourn her . she hopes she will haunt his mind for centuries to come . she begs god to let guilt rip him apart , eat into his heart in the form of dirty maggots , like the ones that will soon feast upon her corpse . she prays he will regret it .
blakekathryn
annaxmalina
areudirty
pixelskylines
vaporwave
andulkaphoto
