RH Apocalypse - Undoing
((After a long ass break from actually writing, I'm taking baby steps to get back into the game and hopefully get started on making better fics and drabbles then I ever have before! Let’s start with an idea that I've been brewing up for a while...))
Royal Guards stood at Vega side, weapons at the ready, as she stared at the still figure who had just made their arrival at the Palace. There were few things that went unnoticed by Cluster Prime’s planetary surveillance, so for something to sneak into the planet’s orbit undetected, and onto the palace’s landing pad no less, was alarming. But the visitor, against Vega’s rampant paranoia, mean the opposite of harm.
A cloak flowing in the wind, the smell of soil from worlds foreign and that gleaming, golden hand cannon, Vega stood shocked. After 3 whole years without word, Shayde had comeback to her. He didn’t look like the Exo who had been taken away from her all that time ago...he was different. Where she had once felt an aura of determination, vigor, and dedication, there was nothing. His mahogany helm had now been replaced with a ghostly, pale white, his amber eyes replaced with ones of burning crimson. But through all of those changes, the one that frightened the Queen the most was his smile. It was weak, broken, almost hollow. She felt that it was genuine, but was near completely hampered by pain.
The Hunter slowly walked towards Vega, and the guards tightened their stances. Motioning for her soldiers to relax, Vega began to approach Shayde as well. The stopped just short of ones another, only a foot between them. Going over Shayde yet again, his cloak caught his eye. It wasn’t his usual cloak: Jet black to match with his RH attire. Instead this one looked identical to-
Oh No...
Struggling to find the words, Vega’s eyes met Shayde’s. One of the things that she remembered about hunters was the tradition of wearing a fallen friend’s cloak.
Taking her beloved’s hand, she softly uttered. “...I’m so sorry.”
Shayde didn’t respond with words. Pulling them together, The weary ex-guardian laid his head to rest upon Vega’s shoulder and quietly wept. The embrace was long, and bittersweet. After The Red War, losing Cayde, and leaving behind the life that had made him into what he was, for better or worse, Shayde could at long last stop for a moment and be less than a hero, less than a renegade, and less than a guardian.
Shayde could be himself. And beneath all those titles, Shayde had come undone.
