// Of The East
Title: Of The East
Rating: PG
Warning: None.
Summary: And in that moment, she had never felt so utterly wicked. Nessarose and Boq, before Act II.
She didn’t know what his death would make of her.
Not at first.
She sat at his bedside day after day, listening to his tired words, soothing him as he cursed the day his first daughter was born. It was horrible, to not forgive - but news came again and again of the Witch’s magic, and her feet still sat beneath her, useless.
She taught herself how to hate.
It was only when the body was disposed of, when the bed sat empty and she sat still. It was only when Boq entered, suitcase in his hands, a terrible smile across his face.
“You will come back,” she said, as strong as she could be.
He heaved a sigh, and something within her rumbled.
“I need your help. You’ve always helped me,” her voice cracked.
“I’m sorry,” he said, turned away. If only she could run after him; if only she could stand in her glittering shoes and destroy every shred of pity left hanging between them -- I hate her, I hate her for what she never did -- “I’ll come back once I’ve confessed my feelings.”
“And what good will that do? She doesn’t love you; she never has! She never will!”
Her voice reeked of something horrible, and she brought her hands up; first to place fingertips against her stinging lips, then to cover her eyes, which had begun to leak, tears creating the softest of gasps along her lap.
Another sigh.
“Can’t you understand love?”
Love.
Love?
She had breathed the word ever since the day he had approached her in the courtyard; his invitation kept warm in her heart.
How dare he -
“I’ll - I’ll try to return soon,” he said, and it was so horribly unconvincing, so obviously a lie; he would never return, he would abandon her here, all alone in this awful land -- all alone -- no, no, no--
She loved him.
This awful land that he...that she...
Why couldn’t it be enough? Why couldn’t she ever be enough --
She could make it be enough now.
The thought struck her wildly, hands trembling in her lap, footsteps fading into the silence. Yes; yes, the answer was there, already with her, waiting. She could -- she could do anything now...
“You won’t leave.”
He had his hand around the doorknob.
“What?”
She wheeled towards him, filled with a eagerness she had never known before.
“You won’t leave me.”
“You can’t --,“ he began, voice tinged with the slightest drop of panic. Somehow, she knew he had always known; had just prayed that she would not discover it until he was out of it all, out of it, away...
Too late, she thought; couldn’t help but smile.
“I need help,” she said, simply, plainly. “The Governor needs someone to help her -- don’t you think so, Boq?”
He said nothing; looked down to the floor.
“The Governor needs help,” the words came again -- and in that moment, her glittering moment of triumph and defeat, she had never felt so utterly wicked, “you wouldn’t disobey the Governor of your beloved land, would you?”
No. You wouldn’t.
He could only stand there.
His suitcase hit the ground with a deafening thump, and with a soft sigh, a beckoning of her hand, she decided to throw the horrid thing away.
He wouldn’t be needing it any longer.
Yes, she thought, watching the careful way his hands moved as he arranged items on her desk, feeling a whisper of warmth along her arm as he moved to his place at her side; he would understand soon enough.
After all, they deserved each other.
~
Rating: PG
Warning: None.
Summary: And in that moment, she had never felt so utterly wicked. Nessarose and Boq, before Act II.
She didn’t know what his death would make of her.
Not at first.
She sat at his bedside day after day, listening to his tired words, soothing him as he cursed the day his first daughter was born. It was horrible, to not forgive - but news came again and again of the Witch’s magic, and her feet still sat beneath her, useless.
She taught herself how to hate.
It was only when the body was disposed of, when the bed sat empty and she sat still. It was only when Boq entered, suitcase in his hands, a terrible smile across his face.
“You will come back,” she said, as strong as she could be.
He heaved a sigh, and something within her rumbled.
“I need your help. You’ve always helped me,” her voice cracked.
“I’m sorry,” he said, turned away. If only she could run after him; if only she could stand in her glittering shoes and destroy every shred of pity left hanging between them -- I hate her, I hate her for what she never did -- “I’ll come back once I’ve confessed my feelings.”
“And what good will that do? She doesn’t love you; she never has! She never will!”
Her voice reeked of something horrible, and she brought her hands up; first to place fingertips against her stinging lips, then to cover her eyes, which had begun to leak, tears creating the softest of gasps along her lap.
Another sigh.
“Can’t you understand love?”
Love.
Love?
She had breathed the word ever since the day he had approached her in the courtyard; his invitation kept warm in her heart.
How dare he -
“I’ll - I’ll try to return soon,” he said, and it was so horribly unconvincing, so obviously a lie; he would never return, he would abandon her here, all alone in this awful land -- all alone -- no, no, no--
She loved him.
This awful land that he...that she...
Why couldn’t it be enough? Why couldn’t she ever be enough --
She could make it be enough now.
The thought struck her wildly, hands trembling in her lap, footsteps fading into the silence. Yes; yes, the answer was there, already with her, waiting. She could -- she could do anything now...
“You won’t leave.”
He had his hand around the doorknob.
“What?”
She wheeled towards him, filled with a eagerness she had never known before.
“You won’t leave me.”
“You can’t --,“ he began, voice tinged with the slightest drop of panic. Somehow, she knew he had always known; had just prayed that she would not discover it until he was out of it all, out of it, away...
Too late, she thought; couldn’t help but smile.
“I need help,” she said, simply, plainly. “The Governor needs someone to help her -- don’t you think so, Boq?”
He said nothing; looked down to the floor.
“The Governor needs help,” the words came again -- and in that moment, her glittering moment of triumph and defeat, she had never felt so utterly wicked, “you wouldn’t disobey the Governor of your beloved land, would you?”
No. You wouldn’t.
He could only stand there.
His suitcase hit the ground with a deafening thump, and with a soft sigh, a beckoning of her hand, she decided to throw the horrid thing away.
He wouldn’t be needing it any longer.
Yes, she thought, watching the careful way his hands moved as he arranged items on her desk, feeling a whisper of warmth along her arm as he moved to his place at her side; he would understand soon enough.
After all, they deserved each other.
~