Legacy of the Destroyer: Ragnarök

Chapter VII: The Last Rain

CHAPTER VII: THE LAST RAIN

DEIRI NOTED THE CHANGE in the young master’s demeanor after he came back from his meeting with Master Amoris. He was more alert, but seemed more resigned. She was hesitant to approach him, but, to her astonishment, he did so first.

“Is something the matter?” he asked her with discerning eyes. She jumped slightly; she had thought she had concealed her emotions better.

“Y-Yes.” She steadied herself. “I apologize for worrying you, Master Demetrius.”

He pulled a face at this and looked at her strangely. “Why are you being so formal with me, Deiri?”

It was the first time in four years he had said her name. It brought a smile to her face. “Are you starting to remember, Demetri?” She ruffled his hair affectionately. It was nearly the same color she remembered.

Demetri immediately sobered. “A little,” he said, avoiding her gaze. “F… Father told me what happened,” he stammered. “I almost died, but a woman… a woman saved me.” He choked back a sob. “She took me in… but now, now she’s…” Unable to say much more without breaking into tears, he just stood there, biting his lip.

Deiri’s heart wrenched. He really was the Demetri she knew so well. Forgetting their difference in statuses, she placed the pile of linen she had been carrying onto a nearby drawer and drew her arms around the smaller boy, cradling him as a mother would her child. “It’s okay, Demetri,” she murmured softly, smoothing his rumpled hair. “Everything will be alright. Don’t worry.”

With tentativeness it seemed, she felt Demetri’s arms drawing around her, too. Finally, after four years, she was meeting Demetri again. After four years, she was finally reunited with the little boy she had missed so much. Yes, he had changed—but he hadn’t really.

His voice quavered. “I… I know, Deiri.”

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The funeral preparations went smoothly. Demetri wanted to go out and help buy the supplies with the other servants but Amoris strictly gave him instructions to stay in the manor. He wasn’t to go near town at all, in case soldiers turned up. He was in the clear, but he wasn’t to take risks.

Deiri assured him all was going well. When the morning of the funeral came, it was a dark and gloomy day; it was as if the sky was mourning for his mother, too.

He was contemplating he would wear when a slight knock sounded on his door. Deiri came in, holding a bundle of clothes. “You’re to wear this for the funeral,” she murmured gently.

“Just put it on the table,” was the short reply. “Thanks.”

Deiri, knowing he wasn’t in the mood to talk, left quickly, shutting the door behind her.

He knew his mother hated the color black. She had worn it many times: her mother’s death, her father’s death, the death of her stillborn son with her husband, and eventually, the death of her husband. He didn’t want to appear in front of her wearing black. Black was an evil color. A vile color. A color that signified the end of something.

He drew a shuddering breath and looked at the clothes. As he had predicted, the rich material was completely black. Enraged, he threw the wretched clothes at the wall. Without another glance at them, he threw open the closet, veering closer to the store of brighter, more colorful clothes. He put in a deep green tunic over an ivory-colored shirt, complete with a dark-colored hose. He studied himself in the mirror before smiling.

A single tear trickled out the corner of one eye, making a track down his face. “I wanted to be standing before you like this, but not after you died.” He smoothed the rich cloth with a shaking hand. “I’m a noble, right now. That’s why I can wear things like this.” He rubbed his eyes with the side of his fist.