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7. What is the biggest mistake they’ve ever made?

“Lenathiel Phoenixfeather. It’s got a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”Maerith’s hands worked diligently in a mass of wiry red, trying to tame it into a few last-minute ringlets. From under a crown of flowers and a delicately-pinned wave of hair, Lena watched her friend in the mirror. They sat together on a light spring afternoon, nearer winter than summer. A crisp still held in the air, clinging to branches for dear life, though soon the humid summer would ward it off for good. The sunlight provided enough warmth for sleeveless dresses and shed cloaks. Though were it not quite warm enough, it’s likely the bride-to-be would have no qualms leaving her other guests waiting outside by the altar.“It’s fine,” the younger elf responded with a lift of her shoulder. The reflection of her friend lifted its eyebrows in disbelief.

“What do you mean ‘it’s fine’? Lena, you’re getting married today! Just now you’re getting married, what do you mean it’s fine?” The woman laughed and in a second, in one instant, it caused a flash of adoration, of anger, of distress. Lenathiel swallowed her displeasure and pulled up a smile. A hand lifted to touch the knuckles with their fingers disappeared into red curls.

“I know. You’re right, Maer, you always are. I guess my head is just… somewhere else.” Lena passed a small sigh and turned her face away from her reflection. The dress had indeed been pricey, but Be'thien insisted upon going all out. The dress, the suit, the ceremony, the honeymoon. His wealth was as great as any minor noble family’s might be. And marrying into said minor nobility was supposed to be quite the step up for the Springstep family, a collection of soldiers and tradesmen who did their best with the understanding that it would never amount to much. You worked hard and then you died. Lenathiel had a chance to get out that they saw in Be'thien and her family, her parents in particular, jumped on it. For her sake, they’d said, and the sake of her children. It was a month before her increasingly absent twin would even look at their parents again.

“Can I ask you something, Maer? Something personal?”

The hands in her hair stopped their fussing all at once. Glancing up in the mirror, Lena watched the dark-haired woman slide her hands free with a pensive look. Maerith Dawnthief was always a pretty girl and a beautiful woman. Her features were thin and avian, like most of her family, and each smile was like the breaking of dawn over a blackened valley. Her hair was never difficult, never messy like Lenathiel’s - the smooth nearly-black locks moved in waves around her peachy cheeks and over her slim shoulders, trickling its licks of curls down her spine. There was an infinite warmth to her face, to her presence. Being near Maerith Dawnthief felt like getting another chance to do it all right.

Maerith pulled a nearby stool closer and sat gingerly, smoothing her skirts over her knees. “Of course, Lena. You can ask me anything, you know that.”“Do you ever…” Another lump of emotion appeared in her throat, so she swallowed it forcefully. “You said yes to Laurienn. Do you ever regret it? Does Maerith Truefaith have as nice at ring to it as you’d hoped it would?”

Though her eyes drifted downward, Lena could see Maerith shifting out of the corner of her eye. She could see the woman tug at her sleeve, adjusting it potentially subconsciously to cover the finger-shaped bruises on her forearm.“No. I– I mean, no to regretting it.” She offered a false, twittering little laugh and pulled on a smile. “Not ever.”

The relief that Lenathiel usually felt in the presence of her friend faded. No, it disappeared in an instant, really. Because she thought - or hoped, maybe - that there was a chance at a way out. That maybe Maerith would admit to regretting it, that maybe she wouldn’t marry Laurienn Truefaith, and that maybe there was some small hope that those tiny niggling wishes she had, and had harboured for years then, could become real. But in that moment she understood.

Rising, Lenathiel Springstep pulled her veil down and flashed a smile.“Let’s go, then. We have a wedding to get to.”

It was getting harder and harder to breathe with every step. Blood-drenched and limping, Lerodian didn’t fight the struggle. It was odd, like fog swimming in his head, blocking the air to his lungs and resting behind his eyes and in his forehead. He felt heavy. He felt like some wet, weighty thing dragged up from the sea and left to crawl his way back. It was getting harder and harder to breathe but soon his hand was on the door and he let himself in.

“Lero! Lero, oh thank gods, thank gods, Lero… I– I thought you were dead.“

Lenathiel’s arms clenched so tightly around his ribs, squeezing so hard he felt as though they might well break under the strain. The headache was at its worst there. She squeezed and squeezed and through the fog he could barely hear her crying.

Be'thien’s voice sounded somewhere through the mist and Lero’s clouded vision could make out the man’s form, but only just. “We’re being moved to a safer area to the West, by the water. A group of us are going to hole up there until it’s safe again.”

“Lero, where are the others? Mom and Dad, Selan? Where are they?” If he could wrench her away without harming the woman, no doubt he would have. Because every second the question went unanswered, he could feel her trembling more. More and more and every time the fear hiked up in her the urge to throw her away from him grew.

“Prince Kael'thas,” he managed through the screeching in his skull, that awful shrill pounding that so resembled the sound of terrified screams, “is mobilizing our forces to move out. Selan, Mom and Dad… we’re all going. They’re safe, they’re alive. I’m going with them. I have to–”

“No. Lero, no. I need my family here. Bring them back.” She pulled away, finally, but held on to him with her hands. So he plucked them away from his gore-stained armour every time she tried to latch on to him again. “Please Lero, you just got back. I thought you were all dead. Please don’t do this to me, you can’t leave me behind again–”

“I have to go–”

“Please! Don’t abandon me again Lero, you promised!”

“Be'thien is going to take care of you but Mom and… D-Dad, and Selan, we have to go–”

The feeling of her spit on his face was more jarring than the sound of her screaming, positively shrieking at him with such terror and fury that every word sprayed him with tears and saliva. Her eyes were wild like a terrified horse’s and even as Be'thien rushed in to catch her about the middle to keep her from striking out, Lero could see the other man didn’t know what to do, how to console his young wife.

“I have to go,” he mumbled, turning out the door. It was so loud. But every step eased the throbbing in his skull just a bit, though he could still hear her screaming curses at his back and crying. His stiff legs moved along until he found his cart, and with a grunt he hauled up the handles and started off deeper into the woods in a quiet daze.

Three graves, none marked. Dusk had fallen by the time they were through, six feet deep and five feet long each one. Lerodian stared emptily into the holes for a long while in silence, alone in the woods with not even birds or squirrels around to disrupt him.

Slowly, he began to unload his cart and drop its contents bit by bit into their respective graves as lovingly as he knew how. The thin-fingered hand he knew belonged to his mother. That calf with a scar on the ankle, that was his father’s. Selan'nor’s hips and thighs were little more than shreds, but Lerodian recognized the colours of the city guard in those shreds. An arm here, a head there. Each piece belonged to someone he loved, belonged in the right grave with the right pieces.

When the blood-soaked cart was empty again, he filled the graves in with dirt again and leaned against his shovel heavily, the head buried deep in the earth. Those sad, small graves would grow over in time and nobody else would know. Nobody would visit them, leave flowers or keepsakes in memory of the fallen. Only him. Lero could feel his muscles failing him, his agonized bones suffering under his weight. But more than anything, he could feel that fog clearing from his mind. And as it lifted, he began to understand. The deep loneliness that tried to settle in his chest took hold all at once and he understood then. There was nothing to do for it, no fixing it, no piecing together the broken parts of his family and making them whole again.

So in the depths of the quiet, cold woods Lerodian Springstep stood alone, sinking against the support of his shovel and sobbing bodily like it might make something better. But it didn’t.

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