Red Queen One-Shots

The Candle Flame - Part 2: Dawn

Has she ever ducked in the trenches and shot at other Reds, like us? Is she even a soldier?

But no, I can't imagine her a rookie. She's too casual and confident, versed in matters like this. Whoever she fights for, she's a soldier through and through. Her composure is strong and sure, her eyes are assessing us coolly.

I avoid her gaze to find her comrades' guns. They are the threat we can't overlook. If the woman with the pretty face was the luring distraction, the others were the trap to snap shut sooner or later.

It could be the other way round too, though. The Lakelands sending out false rebels to stir up trouble in the nortan army. Although, were that the plan, the Cygnets would also risk inciting their own population. Unless the rebel operatives were instructed to wreak the greatest havoc and appear terrifying enough to throw off ...

Eastree speaks up and all present twitch in their own way. The rebel leader, swaggering, puts her hand on the pistol on her hip while her male comrade starts, just a little bit. It offers a clearer image of them. They aren't utterly cold and detached yet professional enough to keep focus. A safe, relieving attitude.

They are soldiers like me. But can that bridge the trenches of enmity between us, our countries warring for a hundred years? One of them, the other woman, I suspect for her scars, has likely fought in this war. Killed nortans like us, just like we killed her comrades on commands from the enemies we share.

The enemies that should unite us.

I can't look at her and glance back at the leader. She plays it cool but eventually, I find the signs of her own nervousness, too. She isn't certain of this either, yet she's willing to risk it.

I want to trust her. Trust that she needs people like me and that she has motivation going beyond orders she can't deny. I want the rebellion to be real. But if she's suspicious of us, for the same things I've considered, she still might not let us go: If it's truly the rebellion she wants to protect, would she silence us by death out of mistrust?

When Eastree calls out our names, I step forward and stare at the rebel. If she wants to kill us, she has to do it while looking into my eyes. I know firsthand how hard it is to shoot a person who has a name and a face.

"I'm Barrow. Shade Barrow. And you better not get me killed," I say sharply. Too late I realize it doesn't sound angry, but cocky, like a joke. One that doesn't make her smile, no – but though her eyes narrow, the corners of her mouth lift enough to see the impression I've made.

"No promises," she retorts.

I didn't expect one. But I believe she understands.

I believe we follow the same cause. What she believes, I don't know. Her face freezes for an endless second until all falls away.

I wake, gasping silently. The memories linger freshly in my mind even though six months have passed. So little time, but how far we've come in the meantime.

In the dark and damp room, I snuggle deeper into my pillow on the thin mattress. To think I've been afraid of being killed by the same woman who's hugging me from behind right now, the two of us sleeping with our bodies pressed against each other like spoons. I sigh, closing my eyes for one moment more. Another memory rises, from last night when Diana sat down on my lap and we made love. Maybe we shouldn't, curb ourselves; we'd warning enough. Yet. Neither me nor Diana can deny this wild desire that is either fear of death or lust for life. If we lose everything, we'll have had these moments. Her legs encircled my hips, her hand rested on my chest, close to my shoulder as if to measure my heartbeat. The whole time, her eyes fixed mine. Even when the waves of her orgasm ran through her, even when I came a few seconds later. The whole time, we didn't talk, even agreeing on a condom went without words despite all we have to talk about. What we've got into. What we could be. What we should do.