CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Voices flittered back and forth and I didn't open my eyes but the first thing my brain acknowledged was that I didn't have a nightmare. I had merely fainted. But why had I fainted? Memories of recent events flooded my mind and almost instantly I jolted awake, sitting upright with my eyes wide open. The suddenness of my action caused me to be temporarily blinded by the bright light and I had to blink several times to get rid of the red lights that danced in front of my eyes.
No no no. It didn't happen, Genevieve. You are hallucinating.
The voice in my head did little to nothing to calm my frantic nerves. Alastair's eyes widened at my awakening and before he could even react, I clambered up into a sitting position and gripped his forearms, faintly aware that my fingernails were digging into his hard muscle from my sudden aggression as I looked at him frantically and asked, "where's my mother? Tell me she's okay, tell me we've won, tell me nothing happened to my mother."
His stormy grey eyes softened at my panicked state and instead of him trying to calm me down like I expected him to - like he would have done - he looked away from me, casting his silvery gaze elsewhere and immediately I felt my heart drop but I so badly wanted to hang onto that very last glimmer of hope that shone brilliantly within me so instead of believing his dismissal to my questions as an answer of no, I dug my fingernails deeper into his skin and hissed out through clenched teeth, "tell me... Tell me, Alastair, that none of the events in my nightmare actually happened."
Alastair Ignacio's answer was silence and I withdrew my hands, sinking into the bed that I hadn't realised I was on until that very moment. I was still in my ragged, dirty and worn out clothes but I didn't particularly care that I was in a very unclean state.
No.
"Mum..." I whispered, sinking into the comforts of the soft bed but even that didn't offer me comfort. My chest felt constricted as I felt my heart thundering violently against my ribcage, my breathing coming out short as my head moved back and forth. "No," I shook my head, my lips trembling and my heart racing, as Alastair's gaze returned back to mine, his gaze solemn and sad as they shone with fresh tears. The ache didn't subside at all. The more seconds that ticked by the more the ache grew and my body began to shake, and even as Alastair climbed into the bed and embraced me I still shook.
And then it hit me like a bullet right at my heart. My mother was dead. My mother was gone and something about the second time made it all the more worse. A sob bubbled up from my lips but once the first cry was released into the air, more followed and I kept shaking, sobs wracking through my body as tears fell over, the prickling sensation at the back of my eyes was barely registered because the ache that I was feeling - that was all the more overwhelming. I hadn't ever liked crying, in front of someone or alone, because I had always thought it to be for the weak and vulnerable even after I learnt that it wasn't but in that moment, cocooned in Alastair's arms I couldn't help but completely and utterly break down and cry like I'd never cried before.
Ugly, dry cries emitted from my mouth and soon I was thrashing against Alastair, my frustration seeping into my bones and coming out into the air with each yell I gave out. My shoulder was damp and I realised that shouting, yelling and hitting Alastair wasn't going to do anything because I wasn't the only one who was crying. He was too, just way more silently than I was and for some reason that made the ache in my heart grow all the more powerful that I felt so overwhelmed. The energy knocked right out of me and I sunk back into Alastair as both of shook with grief.
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Alastair had stopped crying before me but I had cried all the tears I could, I had cried until I could cry no more and I had shook until I could shake no more. It was so exhausting that I didn't even feel like getting out of the bed but I had to see my mother. I had to see her before she completely left me.
He had told me that my father hadn't left my mother side, even after I so harshly killed someone. My heart lodged in my throat when the familiar feeling of the sword in my hands filled me. I didn't want to think of what I had done, of what I had felt, of what I had become because of that killing and so I took a deep breath and began to make my way to the Royal Garden. Alastair had cast a spell that would leave the barrier open for a few hours and I was glad because I didn't really want Alastair to be there at that time. I just wanted a moment of peace with my mother and some little family time but once I stepped though and onto the grounds of the banned area of the Royal Garden my father was still there, sitting down in the grass with my mother in his arms. Something was draped over the top of her body but it was still evident that her head was not in the place where it should have been and the sudden urge to cry took over me again. It looked like I hadn't cried all the tears I had to cry.
The sun was slowly peeking up and dawn was breaking, showing sign that the gruelling night was over but I didn't move. I just watched my father, who was staring down hopelessly at my mother. It was a couple of minutes, with me standing there and swaying to the wind, before my father spoke up. "You can't go, Mariana," my father whispered but it was so quiet out here that I was able to hear him. "You know our daughter more than I do. I want to blame you because I always wanted to see her every single time that we met up but you kept refusing. You were too paranoid. You were too scared that your painting would come alive and jeopardise the safety you had put all your energy into building for Genevieve. I want to blame you. I just - I can't. She's my daughter. I should have been more insistent. And now, it isn't her that I lost..."
He didn't finish his sentence. Ronan's body shook and I knew he was crying as his body hunched forward and he held my mother's headless limp body in his arms even tighter. "You can't leave me, Mary. You know how much family that I've lost and I can't lose you, too. Don't you understand? Couldn't you fight a little longer?" My father pulled back and laid my mother's body down on the soft, red-stained grass. His hands were stained with dry blood but I don't think he even cared. I wouldn't have. "I need you, baby," he cried, "I can't lose you. I've dreamed for so long for you to come home, for you to be my wife again... Baby, I need you. You can't be gone, not when I just got you back!"
My father's cries echoed around and my heart broke all over again. I gave him a few moments to himself before I took in a deep breath and walked forward, calling out, "Dad?"
Ronan whirled around to face me, blinking. He smiled softly before his eyes widened as he suddenly realised what I had said. Confusion mixed itself within his features and he echoed, "Dad?" like me calling him by that term didn't make any sense at all. But I saw the flicker of happiness in his green eyes and that made me secretly happy because I knew that I had eased some of his pain and momentarily distracted him.
I gave out a hearty laugh even if I wasn't feeling it and sat down next to him. "Yes, I called you Dad." I looked at him - and saw that his eyes were red and puffy from the crying - and gave him a small smile to which he returned. "I'm tired of fighting and you aren't the only one to blame for the lack of fatherhood in my life. Mum was to blame, too."
I looked down at my mother's body. And a lump rose to my throat. How could have Thorin been so brutal? How could he have just cut off her head just like that? How could he have done that? How... How could I have stooped down to his level and killed him just as brutally?
My eyes stung and I so desperately searched my mind to say something, something to distract me. "Uh, you know Mum...she used to stay up late at night just curling into herself and looking down at a picture of you," I said, my voice hoarse but as childhood memories filled my mind I couldn't help but smile. I laughed lightly and it may have sounded like a cry but I was feeling slightly content in that moment. "I'd sneak into the kitchen to eat junk food because I was going through this phase where all I craved was junk food and nothing else and Mum hated it. Scolded me plenty of times, too." I laughed when the memory of her scolding me as I had gotten caught with cheese puffs stuffed up into my cheeks popped into my mind.
"Anyway, you were really young in that picture and I had always thought that she looked at that picture because she hated you, because you made her angry - she was the one who lied to me and told me that you left us." As those words left my mouth I wanted to be angry but I couldn't find it in myself to be so. Not when the person I was trying to be angry at was dead. "But now that I look back at it I think she looked down at your picture with longing. She loved you and I'm certain that if she could still love she would but..." I gulped in a breath of the chill morning air but I could already feel my eyes prickling with new tears. "But she can't because she's gone, because...because...because he killed her... I hate him."
A tear slipped down from my eye and I didn't bother raising a hand to brush it away. A fleeting moment of silence passed by before my father said, "I don't know what makes it worse: witnessing my brother kill her or knowing she's died for the second time. Whoever said it was always better the second time around clearly hadn't lost a wife or a loved one."
I reached out to my father and placed my hand on top of his, giving it an encouraging squeeze.
"Promise me one thing," he said, turning to look at me.
I gave him a lopsided, carefree smile despite the tempest of emotions that raged within me. "I'll try my best," I replied softly.
"Don't ever leave me. Don't ever think of leaving your father."
My heart softened at his words and my smile grew more genuine. "I promise to try not to. I promise to keep fighting but you should understand that eventually people do fall, eventually I will die. I'm not immortal."
I think that was all he needed to hear because his features relaxed marginally and he nodded, letting a smile finally slip onto his thin lips. "That's all I need, Genevieve."
"Good, Dad, because I don't think I'm in the mood to argue with you."
This made him roar with laughter and despite the given circumstances I couldn't help but smile as well, as my father gathered me in his arms and hugged me tight. I closed my eyes and sighed contently. All the years of yearning for a father weren't for nothing because at the end I had gotten a father, a father who loved me before he got to truly know me and despite me killing his brother, he didn't seem to bat an eye when he gathered me into his arms and I think that hug was all the reassurance I needed.
It was in that moment, with my father hugging me and the both of us peering down at my mother's lifeless headless body did I realise that my mother was the one that drew up the invisible peace treaty between my father and I. And for some reason that didn't make me cry - it made me smile.
A/N:
am i the only one who is getting emotional? this story is coming to an end and my first ever NOVEL (OMFG??!!) will be marked as complete by next week. holy shit. how the fuck did that happen? you guys have no idea how pumped i am for this novel! gosh, this is so surreal.
the next chapter is a Galastair chapter and i'm going to break a few hearts but no regrets. i think this is the most fitting ending i could come up with. my initial plan was to go for something else but it seemed unrealistic (despite this being fantasy) and just way off.
update will be coming this friday/saturday (19/20 august 2016).
question: thoughts on Genevieve's breakdown? thoughts on the relationship father and daughter are beginning to have?