#I`ll try to include some more... lighthearted scenes in the next chapters

[cinaja]

Before the Wall part 31

Masterlist

----

It takes the Seraphim hours to bury the dead. There is not enough wood for a pyre, so Drakon decides to have the dead buried. A few of his soldiers look at him strangely, but to his knowledge, most humans don`t care about Fae religions or rituals. Hardly any of them believe in gods or an afterlife the way the Fae do, so it makes little difference to them if their bodies get burned or buried.

The hours blend together, as do the faces of the dead. Drakon does his best to memorize them, but it`s a futile task. But there are, of course, the soldiers he knows. Many of them, after spending years together in a camp. Body after body, each mutilated in a different way. Hundreds of corpses lying in a hole in the ground. Just this morning, they were still people – laughing, making plans for a future they would never have.

Drakon has to pause his work thrice to stumble behind a boulder and throw up. His hands are shaking, but he refuses to stop his work. He owes that much to the dead.

When the last body has been cleaned away, the last grave dug, Drakon surveys the burned remains of their camp and decides that, even though the sun has long since set, there is no way they can spent the night here. How could anyone sleep on this burned ground that is still stained with the blood of their dead friends?

So, in spite of the late hour, they pack their things and fly half an hour further west where they set up their camp by a river. Miryam, who looks dead on her feet, sets up a quick perimeter of wards then returns to Jurian, who hasn`t said or done anything since they found him kneeling between his dead soldiers. Drakon wishes he could do anything to help, but as it stands, all he can do is get his soldiers settled.

It is long past midnight when most of them have vanished into the makeshift tents they erected from whatever they could save from their ruined camp. Drakon doesn`t feel like sleeping, so he sits down in front of a lonely camp fire near the centre of the camp. The images of the dead humans keep drifting through his mind. He knows all too well what their last hours must have felt like.

Soft steps sound behind him and Miryam sits down on the ground next to him. Her dark hair is tangled and there`s ash smeared over the left side of her face. She looks completely drained.

“How is he?”, Drakon asks, putting up a sound shield around them.

Miryam shrugs. “I gave him something to help him sleep. He should be out until morning.”

Drakon nods. He knows that sedating Jurian will not stop the pain for him, just delay it. But at least he`ll get a small reprieve.

“And you?”, he asks.

“I can deal with it. It`s worse for Jurian, he knew them longer.”

Drakon has to supress a sigh. That reply is so utterly typical. “You`re allowed to be upset, you know. Just because someone else has is worse doesn`t mean you aren`t allowed to feel the way you do.”

“How do you feel, then?”, Miryam asks, “Since you also knew them.”

Could her diversion be any more obvious? “I can`t close my eyes without seeing their corpses. Whenever I`m not imagining what their last minutes must have felt like, I keep thinking that we might have been able to prevent this if we hadn`t been so stupid.“ He sighs. “I also threw up. Thrice. And I`m scared to go to bed because I know I`ll have nightmares.” He looks at Miryam. “Your turn.”

“I don`t want to talk about it.”

Drakon honestly has no idea how often he`s heard that of her. Usually, he lets her sort it out with Jurian, who is a bit better at getting her to talk. But this time, Jurian is busy and Drakon doesn`t think that letting Miryam stew over her feelings alone is a good idea.

“Talking is important”, he says and hopes that he doesn`t sound overly preachy. “If you always shove your feelings down, you`ll combust eventually.”

Miryam snorts softly. “Who cares?” She picks up a pebble and throws it into the dark. “There`s no way we`re getting out of this alive, anyways.”

Drakon blinks at her. That`s the most pessimistic he ever heard her. “That`s not true”, he says softly and reaches out and puts a hand on her arm.

“Yes, it is!” She jumps to her feet, brushing his hand away as she does. “We`re already dying – bit by bit, every day.” She makes a sound that is somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “Even if we win, even if we don`t all get killed… Do you really think we`ll just ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after when this is over?” She shakes her head. “There`s no getting back from this. Not in a hundred years.”

She lost hope, Drakon realizes. Miryam may still believe in freedom for her people, and be ready to fight for it, but she lost hope for herself. He refuses to accept that.

“Come on”, he says and gets up. “I want to show you something.”

“No, I-“

“Trust me.”

Miryam doesn`t look convinced, but she follows him out of the camp. Unfortunately, his idea to get out of the camp alone runs into difficulties. Namely the three guards trailing them. Normally, their presence hardly bothers Drakon, but in the sleeping camp, their presence stands out and destroys any illusion of privacy.

Drakon stops walking and waves the guards over. All three of them bow, and the leader, a round-faced female named Yani, asks, “How can we help you, your Highness.”

“Lady Miryam and I would like some privacy”, Drakon says. He doesn`t add that he asked her to call him by his name more times than he can count already.

Yani exchanges a look with her colleagues. “Forgive me, your Highness”, she says, “But General Sinna gave us strict orders not to leave you alone.”

Drakon knows. When he first became Prince, it was easy to slip away from his guards – if there were any around – but since his time in the Black Land, Sinna drastically increased security.

“You work for me, though”, he says. “We`ll be back within two hours.”

Drakon pretends he doesn`t notice that his guards have to consider his orders first before they fall back. As soon as they are out of the wards` perimeter, Drakon holds out a hand to Miryam.

When she hesitates, he says, “You set up the wards. If anything happens, we`ll be back within seconds.”

Miryam sighs and takes the offered hand.

----

Drakon winnows them to a field just outside of a medium-sized human city. He tugs his wings tightly to his body and leads Miryam towards the gate. The guards squint suspiciously at Drakon, but relax when they see Miryam`s mostly human features.

“What are we doing here?”, Miryam asks softly when the guards have waved them through.

The village doesn`t seem like anything out of the ordinary. Miryam cannot imagine why Drakon would take her here. She`s too drained to care much, though. It`s like someone cut a tether connecting her to the world. She should be furious, or sad, or desperate, but she just feels empty. Except for the power that keeps thrumming through her, only barely controllable anymore.

“I want to show you something”, Drakon says.

Miryam lets him take her by the arm and lead her through the streets towards the town`s centre. She barely notices where they are going until the sound of music makes her perk up. They round a corner and basically stumble into a street festival. Music and laughter fill the air and in the centre of a square, people are dancing in pairs. Miryam stares at the scene, unable to quite process what she`s seeing.

“Look”, Drakon says and nudges Miryam closer. “There are still people who are alive out there. There are people who are dancing and laughing and living. This is what we`re fighting for and we haven`t lost yet.”

Miryam looks away. She can`t take this. There are cracks forming in her composure and she fears that if she loses control now, she won`t be able to regain control over her powers. Her hands open and close frantically at her side.

“And we are alive as well”, Drakon continues, “We are alive and I promise that when this is all over, you`ll also get to dance on the street, or do whatever else you want for your life.”

Miryam`s shoulders begin to shake and she quickly wipes the tears away. The music still sounds, people are still dancing. Humans living in freedom. Drakon pulls his arms around her and pulls her close to him. Miryam digs her fingers into his jacket. She is crying so hard her entire body shakes now, and she thinks if it wasn`t for Drakon holding her, she might just get swept away.

Eventually, the tears stop. Miryam carefully lets go of Drakon. She wipes her tears away and straightens. Her face feels puffed up and her throat is sore, but the pressure inside of her has become almost bearable.

“Thank you”, she whispers, “I think I needed that.”

“I think we can stay for a bit. If you want to.”

Of course she wants to. She never wants to go back. That is not possible, she knows, but at least they`ll get a small reprieve. Miryam nods and follows Drakon, who keeps his wings tucked in tightly to his body, towards the celebration. Her eyes flicker over the laughing, happy people. They seem surprisingly unbothered by the Fae in their midst.

“How did you know to come here?”, Miryam asks.

“My soldiers like to go here on their days off. They told me.”

Without needing to talk about it, they decide not to join the dancing, so they end up standing next to a small booth that sells drinks. A human man presses two cups into their hands

“Oh, thank you.” Drakon reaches for his pouch to pay for the drinks, but the man waves him off.

“First drink is free for Alliance soldiers”, he says, “Besides, you two look like you could use it.” He vanishes in the crowd, leaving Drakon looking unhappily at his still-full pouch.

Miryam, on the other hand, notices the ash staining their clothes. She sighs. They must look like they crawled straight out of a grave. She tries to brush the ash off her clothes, but only succeeds in smearing it further.

“Hopeless”, she mutters.

“At least that way, we don`t need to worry about being recognized”, Drakon says with eternal optimism.

They find a bench at the edge of the dancing floor and sit down on it. They aren`t part of the celebration, not really, just spectators. They might as well be in a different world as those people.

Drakon drains his cup quickly, then puts it on the ground next to him. Miryam only takes a sip from her cup, then winces. Horrible.

“I hate alcohol.” She takes another sip, winces again and hands the cup to Drakon. “It tastes terrible, and it makes you lose control over yourself.”

“I believe the latter is part of the charm for most people.” Drakon takes a sip from Miryam`s cup.

She snorts. “Like you need to worry about getting drunk from this.”

To be fair, Miryam as a half-Fae doesn`t get drunk very quickly either. But the mere possibility of getting drunk is enough to completely ruin alcohol for her. Losing control is horrifying, she doesn`t understand why anyone would risk it for fun.

“I still can`t believe it”, Drakon whispers.

Miryam nods without taking her eyes off the dancing people. Don`t think about it. Think about these people who never watched their friends get murdered. Next to her, Drakon starts drumming a quick rhythm on the edge of the bank. He looks upset.

“So”, Miryam says, voice shaking slightly. She desperately fumbles for a different subject. Only one thing comes to her mind. “You should probably talk to Sinna. Your soldiers can`t take her word over yours.”

Drakon makes a face at her, but at least his tapping slows. Politics may not be his favourite subject, but Miryam guesses it`s still better than the memories of their dead friends.

“Sinna is over three hundred years old and has been a soldier for most of that time. I`m not even thirty.” He shrugs. “I`d take her word over mine, too. Any smart person would.”

He generally has a point. But - “Not when they are your soldiers.  And most certainly not this publicly.”

Drakon arches an eyebrow. “So, what is it they are saying about me on the Continent that has you so worried about my public appearance? That I`m incompetent?”

“No, not that.” Miryam bites her lip. Normally, she doesn`t tell Drakon about the rumours, but right now, there seems to be no way around it. “With your essays now public, people generally believe you know what you`re talking about. But that doesn`t necessarily mean they also believe that you`re the one making decisions in Erithia. There`s quite a debate to be had on whether it`s your council, your advisors or your military who make the decisions for you, and your aren`t exactly…” She hesitates. “I`m sorry, but things like your conversation with the guards earlier don`t exactly make it seem like they are wrong.”

Drakon changes the rhythm he was drumming. “I`m not making these changes because I`m being manipulated, though”, he says. “I`m not.”

“I know that”, Miryam replies without missing a beat. When Drakon gives her a sceptic look, she adds, “Truly. You may not be very suited to international politics, but you`re brilliant at running a country. You`d notice if anyone was manipulating you about any of that.” She gives him a slight smile. “I`m more worried about your appearance. If you let people say you are being manipulates, you allow them to invalidate all the work you are doing.”

Drakon looks rather relieved at that. “So what should I do?”

“You can still listen to your advisors and generals”, Miryam says, “Believe it or not, but most rulers do. The difference is that they ask for advice quietly and then present it as their decision, while you just let other people make the choices for you.” She frowns. “Although I suggest you talk about this to whoever you pay to advise you on foreign politics, and if the answers he gives don`t match mine, have him replaced – he`s either incompetent or purposefully trying to jeopardize you.”

She supposes he could also use a bit more wariness in general when it comes to the members of his council. But she doesn`t say that. Contrary to popular belief, Drakon isn`t naïve – he`s seen far too much evil for that. He chooses to still see only the best in people, and Miryam personally sees that as a strength. She wouldn`t want him to change that.

“Seems doable”, Drakon says, then gives her a smile that only seems a little bit strained. “You certainly are good at changing the subject.” Which, of course, isn`t an attempt on his part to change the subject at all.

“I`ve got lots of practice”, she mutters, which makes Drakon huff a laugh.

They return their attention to the street festival. Now, most of the participants have taken each other by the hands and are dancing around in a huge circle.

“You ever wish we could trade places with them?”, Miryam asks softly. “Live a normal life.”

“Of course”, Drakon says. “What would you do? If it wasn`t for the war and… everything.”

“I think I`d still like to be a healer. Live in a small village. An ordinary life.” Maybe that`s what she`ll do when the war is over. If she survives. “And you?”

“I`d go back to university”, Drakon says without hesitation, “It`s wonderful there. You would like it.”

Miryam nods quietly. She allows herself to dream of the life she might have had a moment longer. But then, she thinks back to her people and straightens. “We should probably go back.”

Drakon nods and gets up. Miryam looks over her shoulder at the dancing people one last time before turning around to leave.

“I suppose you can`t have it both ways”, Drakon says softly as they walk back towards the gate. “You`re either the person dancing through the night – or you`re the one who fights so that dancing will still be possible tomorrow.”

----

When Jurian wakes up, it takes him a few blissful seconds to remember what happened. But the memories return soon enough, and when they do, he almost wishes he could take more of that sleeping tunic and fall back into oblivion. He nearly asks Miryam, who is sitting cross-legged on the ground next to him, for one – after all, what does he need to be awake for now, anyways? – but then, he remembers Amarantha and Clythia. The vow he made.

He sits up too quickly and his head starts to spin. Miryam reaches out to steady him.

“Easy”, she says, “You`re safe.”

“You think I give a shit?”, Jurian snaps. His voice is hoarse and sounds off in his own ears. He pushes her arm away and stands up – with the success that he immediately falls back over.

“Give yourself a moment”, Miryam says. Her tone is still gentle.

Jurian lets himself fall back onto the blanket he was lying on. “Sorry”, he mutters.

Miryam shrugs. “I understand.”

Jurian carefully pulls himself up into a sitting position and Miryam moves closer until they are almost touching. For a while, they sit together in silence.

“When we arrived in the camp”, Miryam finally says, breaking the silence, “when we saw it destroyed, I thought…” She rubs her hands over her face. “Maybe it is selfish to say, since so many died, but I`m still happy you`re alive.”

Jurian can almost hear the questions behind her words. But how? How come you survived while everyone else died. Where were you while your soldiers got murdered?

“I wasn`t in the camp when… it happened”, Jurian says. I was meeting with Clythia behind your back. While our friends were slaughtered, I sat and ate cake with a Hybern commander.

But his tongue won`t form the words. He closes his eyes. Tell her! He needs to tell her the truth now, he owes her that much. As of yet, he hasn`t really done anything wrong in that regard – he always meant to tell her once his meeting with Clythia was over. He needs to tell her now, and everything will be fine. But he keeps imaging the look in her eyes when she hears what he was doing.

“I…”, he begins. How can things between them ever be the same again if he tells her the truth now? “I went one a ride.” The words slip out involuntarily, without his permission. “I needed a moment alone.”

His heart races. There`s no way Miryam will believe him, she is almost impossible to lie to. Why didn`t he tell the truth? She`ll find out anyways, and him trying to lie will just make it worse. He lowers his head.

Miryam gently puts her hand on his. “It wasn`t your fault”, she says, “Even if you had been there, you couldn`t have saved them. You would have just died alongside them.”

Jurian blinks, too stunned to speak. It wasn`t even that good a lie, there`s no way she fell for that. And yet… The realization hits like a knife to the gut. Miryam doesn`t catch his lie because she doesn`t even consider the possibility that he might be telling anything but the truth. After all, he never lied to her before.

He wishes she had doubted his words. That would have made it more bearable.

“I should have been there”, he whispers, voice breaking. That, at least, is true no matter what.

Miryam just wraps her arms around him and pulls him close. Jurian lets her.

He doesn`t know how long they`ve been sitting like this when the door bursts open. “Oh.” Drakon stops in the entrance.

“What do you want?”, Jurian snaps. He doesn`t know why he`s suddenly angry.

“Sorry.” Drakon lifts his hands, like in surrender. “I should have knocked.” He throws Miryam a letter. “The council wants to see you. I`d say they are asking, but it`s more of a summon.” He turns to Jurian and adds more softly, “I`m glad you`re awake. And, well, alive.”

“Because that`s the most important thing, right?” Jurian scoffs.

“I`m sorry”, Drakon repeats. “I can imagine how you must feel.”

“Oh, can you?” Jurian pushes Miryam`s arm off and climbs to his feet. “Because your soldiers didn`t get slaughtered. They weren`t even in the camp, were they?”

“Are you blaming me for what happened?”, Drakon asks softly. He still doesn`t sound angry, which just pisses Jurian off more. Drakon and his eternal kindness – doesn`t he realize that they`re at war?

“Just stating facts. Because somehow, it`s never your people who have to pay the price, is it. And if we lose this war, it won`t be your people who end up enslaved, either. You`ll get out of this perfectly fine, right? They`ll probably even let you keep your title.”

“Jur…”, Miryam whispers.

Drakon just stares at him, lips pressed into a tight line.

Jurian laughs. “Must be fun, to fight a war knowing that the results will never really affect you. One of the advantages of being Fae, I suppose.”

“Stop it!”, Miryam all but shouts and jumps to her feet. “What are you doing?” Shaking her head, she looks between Jurian and Drakon. “Isn`t it bad enough already?” Her voice shakes like she`s about to cry. “Thousands of people are dead. We`re all that`s left, and if we start to argue amongst ourselves…”

Jurian stares down at his feet. His anger evaporates, leaving him feeling drained and terrible. Not only did he lose his soldiers, now he also picked a fight with Drakon and made Miryam upset.

“Sorry”, he mutters.

“I`m sorry, too”, Drakon says, “About what happened to your soldiers – and that we weren`t there to prevent it.”

Jurian nods, and that is that. Argument settled, but not really. Miryam looks between them, frowning.

“You need to go to your meeting”, Jurian reminds her.

“Do you want me to come?”, Drakon offers.

Jurian has to bite his tongue to keep from saying something about how he doubts that would be very helpful. Damnit, what is wrong with him? It`s like all that`s left is anger, and without anywhere for it to go, he lashes out at anyone who happens to be close. He needs something to direct his anger at, or he fears he might combust and take everyone close to him down with him.

“I received intelligence about the possible location of one of Hybern`s training camps”, he says to Drakon, without really looking at him. “If we manage to find the exact location, we might be able to pay those bastards back in kind.”

----

Miryam`s formal dresses burned together with the camp, so she still wears her ash-stained tunic and pants when she goes to meet the council. She is early for the meeting and only a few of the other councilmembers are there, but they all stare at Miryam`s appearance. She ignores the looks.

Not finding a set of change clothes was a somewhat risky choice, but Miryam decides it`s fitting. Appearing in immaculate clothes after what happened in the last hours would have seemed tasteless. Miryam is just about to take her seat when a hand closes around her arm. She stiffens – she hates being touched without permission – but makes herself turn around slowly. He magic stirs, but she shoves it back down.

“My Lord”, she greets the High Lord of the Night Court.

“May I have a word, Lady Miryam?” His voice is tense and he all but drags her out of the room without waiting for a reply.

“I would appreciate”, she hisses and rips her arm out of his grip, “a little more common courtesy.”

He holds open the door to one of the smaller meeting rooms for her and lets her in with a mock bow. Miryam glares and demonstratively rubs her wrist, where his fingers are sure to leave bruises. Still, the High Lord doesn`t apologize as he closes the door behind them and sets up wards with the wave of a hand. Miryam tries very hard not to be nervous.

“We need to talk”, the High Lord says.

“If this is about Keir –“

“I know you`re planning to shift the blame for your failure on him. I would do the same, in your position. Still, I`d suggest you take a different route.”

“No.” Miryam takes back a step so that she no longer has to look up at him quite so obviously. “Over three thousand soldiers got killed in a single night, all because your commander went against Alliance directives to torture a group of enemy soldiers and then presented the information he got as sound intelligence. The blame for this lies with him, and I`ll make sure he gets what he deserves.”

“How righteous of you. And how practical that this way, you shift the blame well away from yourself and your friends. Even though it was your fault as well, wasn`t it?”

Yes, it was. But that won`t be the public version. “If Keir hadn`t supplied incorrect information”, she says flatly, “none of this would have happened.”

“And if you make it public, his behaviour will fall back on me.” When Miryam only arches an eyebrow at him, he steps closer. “So don`t make it public.”

Miryam makes herself laugh. “Just like that? You argue against me in almost every meeting, and now, you expect me to do you a huge favour?”

“You don`t want me as your enemy”, he warns.

He`s standing so close now that her every instinct screams at her to run. Instead, she slowly steps back and reaches for the handle of the door. The High Lord`s wards crack under her touch and she pulls the door open.

“So you keep saying”, she says, “but the more I think about it, the more I feel like you are the one who doesn`t want me as your enemy.”

With that, she walks out of the room and towards the council chamber. There, Andromache has arrived by now. She drops all pretence when she sees Miryam and hugs her in front of the entire council.

“Are you okay?”, she asks, “Jurian? Drakon?”

“Yes.” None of them are anywhere near okay, but at least they are alive. “None of us were in the camp when it happened.”

“And I think we`d all like to know the reason for that”, Nakia says from her seat at the table.

“We received faulty information”, Miryam says, taking her seat. Then, she briefly outlines what happened yesterday, making sure to place as much blame of possible on Keir.

By the time she is finished, most of the councilmembers are frowning. Unfortunately, more than one of them seem to direct their ire at Miryam. Zeku softly shakes his head at her.

“Yet I have to wonder”, one of the Fae says, “how none of you noticed the trap.”

“We received the intelligence from the council”, Miryam replies, “We believed it had been verified and followed the orders we`d been given.”

Nakia surprises her by nodding. “No point arguing about it now”, she says gruffly. “The damage is done. I suggest we start dealing with the aftermath.”

In the end, of course, someone still has to get punished – but that someone ends up being Keir, who gets stripped of his army command. His High Lord glares at Miryam. Otherwise, it is decided that Jurian will be put in charge of training new recruits and making them into a new army. After that is settled, they mercifully decide to end the meeting.

Most of the other councilmembers don`t leave immediately, so Miryam also remains sitting for a while. She can`t vanish immediately after each meeting.

Zeku leans against the table next to her. “My condolences”, he says.

“Thank you.”

Zeku remains sitting on the table and watches her. Silently.

“Was there something else?”, Miryam asks when she has enough from his staring.

Zeku seems to consider, then shakes his head. “Nothing. Just… are you sure you know what you`re doing here, Miryam?”

She tenses. She thinks back to the warning he gave her months ago and tries not to make her worry too obvious. She must have made some kind of mistake – maybe she didn`t shift the blame for their away successfully enough. This is bad. Her standing with the council is all that gives her the power to influence where this war is going. She needs to find a way to fix this, and quickly. If she can manage, with her losing control over her magic more and more each day.

“I`m just trying to free my people”, she says softly. “That`s all I want. All I`m fighting for.”

Zeku watches her for a moment longer, then he nods and jumps off the table. “Be careful”, he tells her and walks off to join one of his Fae allies.

Miryam looks after him and tries to ignore the sinking feeling that she completely missed what he was trying to warn her about.

----

A/N: You probably already guessed it, but things are going downhill from here. There will also be another time jump between this chapter and the next. Oh, and Mor will play a larger role again in the next arc. I haven't forgotten about her, her pov just didn't fit into this arc.

Tags: @croissantcitysucks @sjm-things @clolikescloquetas

#I`ll try to include some more... lighthearted scenes in the next chapters #but the problem is #that this just isn`t a very lighthearted story #which I should probably have realized in advance #before the wall #miryam #jurian #drakon