The Darkest Nights
For
so long I have felt alone
Content
to live with unrest
Longing
faded into countless nights
That
buried my weary heart
But
you brought an end
To
this dead hour
And
meaning to a calloused life
Chronology: Tristan is 24. Raja is 14.
I sit here tonight at our special place in the forest. I am waiting for her
now to arrive here.
Ardeth and Raja leave tomorrow morning. Gone for a year,
perhaps longer. When she first told me that she would
be traveling abroad my heart sunk. I knew it would be good for her
though. The past couple of years have been rough. She is pale and thin. A
winter spent anywhere but on this island will be a change for her. In a way I
feel that I have failed her. For all the peace she brings me during my bleak
moments, I cannot seem to do the same in return. I can sit with her when she
stares out into nothing, watching her past play before her eyes, the demons
that hold her and render her helpless. After she goes through one of those
spells she sleeps for days on end, slowly regaining her strength.
When the men and I were first told she was coming here with her uncle, I
thought, oh great, a spoiled child of noble blood. It didn’t matter whether or
not she was Lancelot’s cousin. I heard the word ‘noble.’ She was anything but
the spoiled child I thought she would be, and after getting to know her it was
difficult to even think of her as a child. She was an equal, a human being I
could relate to. Never in my life would I have thought to refer a female ten
years my junior as my best friend. But that she is. Go figure. Yet, even the
term best friend doesn’t seem to fully define what Raja and I share.
She sustains me somehow. She looks into my eyes and sees something deeper –
depths I didn’t even know I had. There are nights when she crawls into my bed,
her body molded to mine as if she were my other half. She is so light, she grows yet she is still like a feather upon me. I hold her to
my chest tightly because I don’t want her to float away. Raja told me that she
sleeps better in my arms. Warm and safe. I know her
breathing. I can tell when she is fully asleep, for she stops twisting my hair
around her finger, and her breathing becomes so quiet it is barely audible.
What started this decline in her health was that attack in the woods by a
Roman. It resurrected old demons that weren’t even fully buried in the first
place. What exactly was haunting her was made clear then. It was confirmed by
Ardeth. She watched her mother suffer rape and death at the hands of three men.
Then the same was done to Raja. Yes, I understood a little better about what
those long silences of hers meant. Why she screamed so loudly at night when she
first came here – why she still screams so loudly at night. And I loathe the
men that hurt her. And I know that sounds somewhat overdramatic, but I can’t
help that I am protective of her. I try to be subtle about it, especially with
her, but she needs protection. For her strengths, she does have weaknesses. We
all do, but hers could kill her.
Ardeth told me that her body was not made to sustain the life of a warrior.
Raja is an excellent archer, swordsman, and the best horseback rider – her
connection with Odin just makes it so. But she pushes herself to the point of
exhaustion. Her uncle is the only one who can get her to rest. I understand
that she cannot have both - her brilliant mind and unending strength for a
warrior. The fragility of her person, I believe, is the price she must pay for
all she holds in her mind.
“Tristan?”
I turn my head and there she is. I smile at her and she comes and sits next
to me. She laces her fingers with mine and leans on my shoulder. The wind
rustles and I can smell the faint aroma of meadowsweet that she permeates. I
don’t want her to leave.
“I want to give this to you for safe keeping,” she says, holding out her
dragon trinket with the ruby eyes her father gave her.
“No, Raja, you should keep that with you,” I protest.
She puts it around my neck anyway. “So you know for certain that I will
return.”
I am looking at the trinket, and she must have been about to give me a kiss
on the cheek, but I turn my head, and her lips touch mine. Even in the night I
can see a faint blush on her cheeks. I smile reassuringly so she knows I knew
her original intent. She has given me kisses on the cheek before. Her lips are
always soft, her kisses gentle and sweet.
“You give me peace, Trissy,” she tells me softly.
And perhaps I shouldn’t, but I lean forward anyway and put my lips to hers.
She pushes her lips more firmly against mine, I know they are rough but she
doesn’t seem to mind. Surprisingly I feel the tip of her tongue touch my mouth,
and our mouths open wider to caress tongues, dancing together in untouched
territory. The kiss is short and long at the same time. We pull apart and oddly
there is no embarrassment between us, no discomfort. There was never any doubt
that she held a special place in my heart, but it is all the more clear now, I
love this human being beside me. I pull her close to me, and we sit in our
companionable silence. Yes, I love her, and I shall watch over her. For I do
not care for much in this world, but what I do care for I guard closely.
While
your eyes rest in mine
I
remember the way you looked at me
And
the way you drew me close
With
one deep sigh
Scattering
pieces of my restless mind
Forgetting
all that we have left behind
-As
I Lay Dying