Lonely stars
Nenia knew that trying to domesticate an intelligent snake abused by its previous owners would be a challenge. She knew that let it bite her repeatedly so it’d know she wasn't a threat would be a high-risk bet.
She just didn’t expect to collapse in front of her office door after a few weeks.
How embarrassing, she thinks with her cheek against the floor as her eyelids flutter and the corners of her vision blur. She sucked out the poison and drank a preventive serum every time, but maybe that was too ambitious on her part and she overexerted her body. That stupid body, giving out after a few drops of venom, when it used to be able to withstand all the stimulants and drugs in the world.
There's a gasp, agitation, a scream or two. She’s been found. She wasn't too worried about that. In those corridors, one can never be alone for too long.
“Director! Can you hear me?”
She nods, weakly. She can hear, but seeing is becoming more and more difficult. The man crouching next to her puts two fingers against her neck to feel her pulse. There’s more hurried steps, the man yells.
“Someone get the doctors and general Llokarsharan at once !”
Such a fuss, and for what? She will be fine. They should remain calm, they’d be more efficient that way. Her chest is starting to contract painfully, but it was in the list of the poison’s side effects, so nothing unexpected.
“Nenia!”
That scream could only come from one person. Ever so emotional, Dalnæ’hyr, unable to respect any kind of protocol when he lets fear get the better of him. She sees his eyes, bright, too bright even for her clouding vision.
“By the stars, you… I told you this was a bad idea!”
True. He did tell her adopting that snake and letting it hurt her was a bad idea. He’s still wrong.
“I’m… fine,” she croaks.
Her tongue feels heavy, her mouth incredibly dry. Dal doesn't look reassured in the slightest.
“You haven’t seen yourself.”
He lifts her up without much effort. It's funny when Nenia thinks about the fact that he used to be so weak Alanis could beat him at arm wrestling.
He rushes to the medical room, the specialized one tailored for each Director with the best equipment and medicine Genos has to offer. Nenia can’t see much, but she hears the staff arrive and scurry about in a frenzy, even though her condition isn’t that critical. Dal's heartbeat is racing. He’s scared. No, he’s terrified. Nenia sighs.
“I… will not die. Because…”
“Don't talk! Damn it… Damn it.”
The doctors try to pull her away but he just holds her closer as he enters the medical room.
“Just show me where I have to lay her down.”
A few seconds later, she feels the softness of a mattress under her back. One hand strips her of her upper layers of clothing, another puts an oxytometer on her finger, another sticks something into her arm, then something else. A needle, and probably an IV. It’s uncomfortable, but she doesn't even flinch. She hears Dal groan,
“Would it kill you to be more gentle?!”
A doctor replies in a snappy tone that he should let them do their job. They’re right, but well, she won’t change Dal. And she’s starting to feel cold. And hot at the same time. Unpleasant, but bearable.
Once all the equipment has been set up, Dal takes her hand in his, squeezes it. She lets him.
“They're going to drain the venom out of your body, but it's going to take a while. And the antidote are probably going to have nasty side effects, too. Sorry.”
Why is he explaining everything to her? She's not a child, she knows how poison treatment works.
“... Seriously, all because of that damn snake…”
Right. The snake. She’s going to be incapacitated for a while. Can’t leave it without anything to eat.
“Feed… it.”
Dal’s tightens his grip on her hand.
“Feed it?! Nenia, that thing almost killed you.”
“That’s… a direct order… from your Director, general.”
The other elf tenses up, but sighs in resignation.
“Fine. I’ll feed it. You have my word.”
“Good.”
It's starting to crawl up on her. The fatigue. The pain. She’s not gonna be able to stay awake for much longer. Dal’s thumb brushes softly over the bite marks all over the back of her hand, her fingers, her palm.
He says something, but she doesn't hear anything anymore.
It’s dark, then it’s bright, then dark again. Flashes of hot and cold. Brief, distorted sequences of memories she can only be a spectator of. Her big sister counting on her baby fingers. Dal showing her picture books. Her father in his office, crying. Her mother waving her hand dismissively. Endless corridors, endless windows, endless needles, endless nights and days.
What is this all even for?
Then it stops and she opens her eyes. The medical room is bright. Eerily bright, yet only the twilight is pouring through the windows. Someone’s humming a whimsical tune next to her. There’s a little dip in the mattress where that someone sits.
Her clothes are so white they blend with the sheets. So is her skin, almost translucent, long fingers laced with veins tapping her cane to the rhythm of her song. The only hint of color are the gems on her cravat and hairpin, bright blue among strands of silvers. She stops her humming to turn to Nenia.
Two iris-deprived, white, milky pits of emptiness stare at her without seeing her.
Demetria Camarra-Pharos’ lips curl into a smile.
“Well, you seem to have gotten yourself into quite the predicament.”
Nenia stays frozen for a little while, but her eyes don’t stray away from Demetria’s. Silence stretches out before the Director finally states,
“You are dead.”
She remembers every single detail of that morning, about… five, seven, ten years ago, she isn’t sure. Dal’s livid expression, the creak of the door opening, the books and ritual ingredients scattered across the room, the stench of blood and salt, the red splattered on the floor, the body of her most skilled diplomat, wrinkled, frail, eyes and throat wide open, yet smiling. As always.
The woman who sits on the edge of the bed is a little younger, around fifty, but her chuckle is akin to that of a schoolgirl.
“Ever so perceptive, Nen.”
Her grating character seems to be the same, however.
“You are not real.”
“That’s pretty harsh. Just because I’m dead doesn't mean I'm not real.”
Nenia sighs. This woman could always give her a headache in no time. Or maybe it’s just the poison.
“So even in death, you won't leave me alone? Isn't that just my luck. Perhaps I'm dead as well and this is the Shroud.”
Demetria's right hand leaves her cane to lay against Nenia’s forehead.
“Always so dramatic… You're very much alive, Nen, you’re just running a very bad fever.”
Her hand is cold, but not like it was when Nenia touched her corpse. A natural cold, soothing, almost too realistic for a hallucination. She closes her eyes briefly. The pain behind her eyelids subsides a little.
“So,” Demetria twitters. “A venomous snake, huh? Do you miss me that much?”
Nenia opens her eyes again. It's more difficult than she'd like to admit.
“I don’t see the correlation.”
“Oh, come on. I know it reminds you of me. This is your dream, your mind, it’s no use trying to hide anything from me! And even if we weren’t, your aura tells me everything I need to know.”
“So… This is a dream?” Nenia asks to avoid thinking about the implications of Demetria’s words.
“Pretty much. At least it’s the most pleasant dream your brain could lean on. The others were too painful. But I took a small look and I have to say, Nenia, even your dreams are boring. And predictable at that.”
The Director answers with an annoyed click of the tongue and weakly swats Demetria's hand away.
“So the most pleasant dream I can have is you taunting me?”
“Aw, don’t be like that. I missed seeing your pouty face. But anyways, a snake is a fitting pet for you! With your Sun domain, it’ll thrive.”
There’s a sudden silence as Nenia’s eyes grow pensive. Demetria waits a few seconds before asking,
“Is something on your mind?”
“... It always made me uneasy, you know. The fact that you were blind.”
“Well that's rude.”
“Let me finish. Your blindness meant you were mostly insensitive to light, so my magic wouldn’t be as effective to counter you. Especially with your aura vision and your own magic.”
Demetria tilts her head to the side.
“Hmm… Well, it's true that basic Light magic is pretty much ineffective against me, but Sun is a different thing. Just because I'm blind doesn’t mean I don’t feel warmth, so there are plenty of ways to attack me, especially with how powerful your particular magic is.”
Nenia’s hand mechanically grips the sheets. She doesn’t know why she feels so… annoyed, all of a sudden.
“Even so, you were always the best mage out of us two. That's why I didn’t understand why you'd die like that. You could feel and control the magic inside other people’s bodies to change their perception, there’s no other records in history of such magic. You might have been able to slow down the aging of your very body if you wished to, so why leave in such a gruesome way?”
Demetria says nothing. Demetria just smiles in that enigmatic way that makes Nenia want to pull her skin off with her own hands.
“Answer me, Demetria.”
Silence still. This smile still.
“Do you resent me, Nenia?”
The question takes the elf aback for a split second, yet it's not long before the feelings in her chest boil over, rise in her throat, push the words out of her lips.
“Yes. I resent you.”
“Why?”
“Because…”
Because you left me. Because you never warned me. Because you never listened to anything I told you. Because you made me even lonelier.
Because you make me feel like this.
“Because it was stupid. The lichification ritual requires a mastery of the necromantic magic that you never possessed. You knew you were going to die. You…”
Boiling. Boiling. Boiling over, all of it.
“You abandoned us! You abandoned me!”
The sound of her own voice, suddenly so high-pitched and angry, nearly startles Nenia. She feels her cheeks burn with something akin to shame. Her conduct isn’t appropriate. It’s childish. Immature. Undignified. Unfit for a Director to have.
Yet Demetria’s smile has only gotten bigger.
“Well, about time you let that out! But I must say, I’m quite surprised. I thought you didn't care about me.”
“I didn't think I cared about you either,” Nenia mutters. “And then you died.”
“For my defense, I died trying to live forever. It’s not like I wanted to abandon you.”
“Why did you do it? Why try to become a lich?”
Demetria shakes her head and boops Nenia’s face with her index finger.
“I’m just a memory you made up, Nen. I can't answer questions that you don’t already have the answer to.”
She grins.
“Although I have the answer to this one, I just don’t want to answer it. Because you can guess by yourself, like a big girl.”
Nenia grits her teeth. She isn’t in the mindset to play games, but Demetria doesn't seems to care.
“Alright, because I like you, I'll give you a hint. I have always hungered for more knowledge. More experiences. All of it. That was part of the reason I wanted to do this.”
Thinking is usually Nenia’s field of expertise. But this time, all she has is a vague reasoning.
“But if you wanted to experience everything, experiencing death also counts, doesn’t it? So what was it in life that was stronger than your desire to experience that?”
Pale fingers gently slide down Nenia's cheek and run through a strand of red hair.
“One can only wonder… What, indeed?”
Nenia waits, but there’s no follow-up. Just Demetria's fingers playing with her hair. Another sigh escapes her.
“You won't tell me anything, will you.”
“Well, Nen, what can a dead woman do? I'm just as lost as you on this one.”
The elf clicks her tongue again. Each time she thinks she finally has the key to…
“You were always so aggravating.”
“I’d take that as a compliment, but I'm curious as to why the sudden qualifier. Care to elaborate?”
“... I’m the Director of the Sainte-Astrale.”
“You sure are.”
“I can read anybody’s intentions in a matter of minutes.”
“Never doubted that.”
“I’m one of the smartest people in a country that only gathers the smartest.”
“Indeed.”
“My improvement is ceaseless.”
“I've seen it, yes.”
“So tell me why, Demetria, as intelligent and smart as I am, as much knowledge or insight as I gather, could I never manage to understand you?”
Demetria blinks. Then she puffs her cheeks. One minute later, she has burst into laughter. Nenia feels her skin redden to the tips of her ears.
“What’s so funny?!”
“Oooh… I'm sorry, I'm sorry, it's just… Oh my goodness… It’s so hilarious to see you all frustrated over… what? Not understanding me? When you're so prim and proper and circumstantial and matter-of-fact all the time… Oooh gods, that's a good one.”
This isn’t a dream, this is a nightmare and Nenia’s stuck in it. She grumbles a few inappropriate words as Demetria wipes tears of laughter from her eyes.
“In all seriousness, Nenia, it’s pointless to mull over that. You never needed to understand me. In fact, I've never seen you understand anyone when it's not about intentions. No offense meant, of course.”
Nenia raises a displeased eyebrow, sinking into her pillow in embarrassment.
“Offense taken nonetheless. What do you mean by that?”
“Well, you were always clear about your intentions. You were doing this for your sister, Dal and I were tools, and I was fine with that.”
Right. Her sister. It was all for her, wasn't it? For someone that’ll never return.
“But you never treated us like tools. You treated us like people. People you were mad at, frustrated at, content with, despite thinking you were being objective. But we were never threatened, or mistreated. You were still conversing with us as equals. And, well, you're the one who wants to abolish the Larva system, aren’t you? It makes sense that you wouldn't treat anyone as a tool, no matter how much you think you would.”
She slowly takes Nenia’s hand in hers, brushes over the snake bites just like Dal did.
“No one would go that far just for a tool.”
Nenia’s mind is trying to come up with a counterargument, anything to reply to those preposterous assumptions, but… the brain she’s so proud of seems to be drawing a complete blank. So she stays silent. Demetria smiles.
“Don't look so down. Are you in pain? Do you want me to kiss it better?”
A stern green look meets the empty white eyes.
“I absolutely do not.”
“Aw, really? I’m right here, your most devoted diplomat, you could ask me anything and if I like the idea I’ll gladly comply!” Demetria says, waggling her eyebrow and slowly raising Nenia's limp hand to her face.
“Put my hand down.”
“See, that is certainly an idea, but not one I’m too fond of…”
“Demetria.”
“Alright, alright, there's no need for the murderous stare, now is there?”
She lowers Nenia’s hand back onto the mattress, but doesn’t let go. Faced with Nenia’s silence, she shrugs.
“You asked me to put it down, not to let go.”
“... True.”
And she doesn't correct herself. The cold fingers feel good on her numb skin.
“You said… I could ask you anything.”
“I did!”
“I suppose I can't ask you to come back.”
For the first time, Demetria’s smile thins.
For the first time, Nenia turns her gaze away.
“Forget that. It’s… just a fever-induced thought of mine.”
“Do you want me back?”
Demetria’s tone is unreadable. Her face, even more so. No matter how hard Nenia stares at it, her smile remains closed and her eyes empty.
“Do you want me back, Nenia?” she asks again, softly.
Nenia’s mouth opens. Closes. Opens slightly again. Her lips are trembling.
“Yes. But I don’t know what that means. Or entails. You make me feel lost. You always have.”
Demetria chuckles.
“I see. I feel like you only surround yourself with people who make you feel lost, Nen. Me… And Dal, too.”
Dal. Right. He must be waiting for her. Or perhaps not. Perhaps he's relieved to finally get a break… Perhaps…
You better wake up soon, Nia.
She jumps. Where did that voice come from? Demetria smiles again, with that all-knowing expression of her.
“Well, looks like another lost one is waiting for you.”
“Is he?”
“Nen, of course. This goes beyond duty, you know it.”
Feeling the hesitation in Nenia’s silence, Demetria slowly taps her cane to the same rhythm as earlier.
“You know, there’s this one tune I just can't get out of my head… Old genosian nursery rhyme… I don’t think it's from my memories, though, probably from yours. I can't quite remember the words. Something about stars… And something spinning… It’s on the tip of my tongue… Hm. Care to give me a hand?”
Stars. A spin.
That does remind her of something.
Plus, the air Demetria’s humming sounds familiar. Familiar enough for her to start singing along, albeit very low.
Familiar like her mother’s hand in her hair.
Once again tonight, the sky said to attend its party,
But the sky is dark, cold, endless, and scary
Like her father’s voice late at night.
Always of this party the guiding moon is host
But little stars like you often feel so very lost
Like her sister's fingers tapping in her palm.
Remember, little star, feeling alone as you may
Remember, little light, millions look at the sky each day
Nenia’s voice has a slight tremor to it. She doesn't remember that last part well.
"Worry not, dear, for as long as the world spins round…"
Demetria’s voice is the only audible one on the last line.
“You need not fear, darling, for you'll be found.”
Her smile blurs. So does her frame. The sun behind the window has almost disappeared.
“Thanks, Nen. That was fun.”
Her hand, the contact barely discernible, brushes against her cheek once more.
“Time to wake up now.”
The night falls.
Nenia's eyes flutter open before she has any time to react.
There’s still a hand on her cheek. A bigger, warmer one.
And two bright blue eyes in the middle of a face marked by concern and lack of sleep above her.
“Nia? Can you hear me?”
She blinks slowly, a few times. Feels something wet run down her cheek and a finger immediately wipes it away. The light pouring into the medical room is still orange, but this time the sun is rising, not setting, slowly illuminating the features of the face hovering above hers.
“... Hello, general,” she whispers, voice raspy.
A small smile of relief contorts Dal's face, but the worry remains in his eyes.
“Hello, Nenia. What took you so long?”
“How…”
She coughs before finishing her sentence, but Dal seems to understand regardless.
“Four days. You were unconscious and feverish for four days. Not unresponsive, luckily, but you worried me sick. And then you woke up crying.”
Crying?
Demetria really is aggravating.
“Water, please.”
Dal immediately hoists her head up and lifts a glass to her lips. With how quick he is to do so, one can only assume this isn’t the first time he’s done this gesture in the last few days.
“Have you been here the whole time?” She asks after downing her glass. “Because according to the protocol-”
“Yes,” Dal cuts her off with a sigh, “I've been here most of the time.”
“Did you-”
“Yes, I've met with trusted officials in the room next door as soon as I could to make sure everything went smoothly during your absence.”
“What about-”
“Yes, I've fed the snake, no, it didn't bite me, yes, it has eaten properly.”
“Then what did you-”
“Yes, I've kept busy, given remote orders and filed important documents while watching over you. Any further questions?”
To Nenia’s silence, he answers with a shrug.
“Why do you look so surprised? I told you I was going to take care of everything.”
“It just isn’t very fitting for a general to play live-in nurse instead of being in a military council room.”
“So when I want to fulfill my duties as general you make me your personal bodyguard, but when I want to fulfill my duties as your personal bodyguard you want me to be a general?”
Nenia briefly rolls her eyes. Clearly he’s not letting her get the last word in today.
“So, now that this is over with…”
He straightens up, but keeps stroking her cheek.
“How are you feeling?”
Nenia’s mouth twists a little.
“Like someone who has not showered or eaten anything solid in four days, and quite tired despite sleeping the whole time. So mostly filthy, cranky and disgraceful, but I think the fever has subsided, at least. Now if you wouldn't mind helping me sit…”
Dal obeys, helps her to sit upright, supports her back until her head stops spinning and her breathing returns to normal.
“Seriously, Nenia… Do you realize how careless you were? You could have died. The doctors were not that optimistic.”
“I’m alive, so that’s no cause for concern,” the Director retorts. “Although I admit, I’m not too keen on doing that again.”
After all, seeing a dead person right after being poisoned is usually not a good sign.
“I sure hope so. Well, at least the snake seems to miss you, so I guess it worked. As unwise as it was.”
Nenia rests her back against her pillow, wiping remnants of sweat off her brow. Now that she takes a better look at Dal’s face, she can tell he really hasn’t rested at all the last few days.
“General, you know my position means I'm already more exposed to danger than the average citizen. If you get so emotional every time I go through a near-death experience, it might affect your productivity. If my luck runs out one day and I truly don't make it, what will you do?”
“You won't die,” he says like it’s obvious.
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because I won’t let you.”
His face is lit up by a meager, slightly crooked smile.
“That’s the kind of selfish protector I am. I won't let anyone take you away. Not even death.”
“That's a bold claim.”
“Have I been unworthy of it so far ?”
No. No, he hasn't. Every assassination attempt, every attack, every plot, he’s stopped all of them. Even got hurt in the process, numerous times.
She knows she hasn't been kind to him.
But you could never quite see people as tools, could you Nen?
“You’ve been doing your work just fine, I suppose.”
“Glad to hear it.”
Dal slowly stands up, unfolding his huge frame towards the ceiling. Sometimes Nenia wonders how he manages to never hit his head on the doorframes.
“Since you’re awake, I'll go fetch the doctors so they can run a few tests. Then I'll bring you breakfast. Sounds good?”
Nenia nods. Truth is, she's starving. Dal nods back, then leaves, and a whole procession of doctors floods the room. Taking vitals, doing some blood work, checking the IVs, her heart rate, asking questions, all normal procedures that she has to sit through.
After what seems like an incredibly long time, the staff finally leaves her alone. She has a few minutes to breathe before Dal comes back, with a tray filled with food. Falafels, brown beans, whole wheat bread, a bunch of honey pastries, juice… Way too much food for one person. But well, after years of knowing Dal, she’s aware that he always goes overboard when worried.
“There,” he says as he puts down the tray on the nightstand. “Get your sugar levels back up. I’ll go and ask someone to prepare a bath for you.”
He starts walking back towards the door, Nenia watches the back of his head with a weird feeling in her stomach.
Another lost one is waiting for you.
This goes beyond duty, you know it.
“Dal.”
The elf stops dead, turns around. He can't hide the stupor in his eyes.
She barely calls him by his first name anymore, much less his nickname.
“Yes?”
“Care to have breakfast with me, before you get that bath ready?”
He looks like he can’t believe his luck, and a smile lights up his tired face.
“Gladly.”
But he doesn’t move, seems hesitant to go back to his chair, as if he was going to get kicked out at any moment. Nenia gestures vaguely towards the food.
“Well? Are you just going to stand there?”
He blinks, briefly shakes his head.
“No, Director. Of course not.”
He sits back down, hesitantly takes a pastry from the tray and holds it out to Nenia, who takes it gingerly before putting it in her mouth.
It tastes like heaven.
“Any good?” Dal asks as he bites into a falafel.
“It's alright.”
He looks happy, and in his smile there’s a glimpse of the boy that read her books on the sofa. Even if the blade at his belt is the one of the man who cut her sister's arm off, just for today, she wants to go easy on him.
It is a good day to not be dead. Too much of a good day to ruin it.
There’s still the ghost touch of cold fingers on her skin and the faint humming at the back of her head.
“Dalnæ’hyr?”
“Hm?”
“By any chance, did you sing me a lullaby when I was unconscious?”
“... Possibly. Why do you ask?”
“Oh, I just wanted to confirm something.”
“And that is?”
“Eat instead of asking pointless questions, general.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Worry not, dear, for as long as the world spins round
You need not fear, darling
For you’ll be found.
