a thousand teeth and yours among them; straia

[Straia]

i am the violence in the pouring rain

i am a hurricane

She has grown up her entire life knowing what the Chamber is capable of. What it asks for, in return for greatness. Yes, she worked for the greatness of the Chamber, but with it came her own power, her own greatness. Some simply belonged to her now, the raven magic in her veins, but she knows it is a gift from the land. Some of her talents would be taken away when she no longer ruled, because she would no longer need to be able to stop a heart, to live forever (though she could live forever anyway, feeing off the life force of her ravens). But those were small sacrifices. Atrox had given his heart. Warship had given his freedom.

What would Straia be asked to give? Her life? She has already offered it. Her heart? Unlikely, the kingdom does not need two. Her family? She has given much of that as well, sacrificed her relationships with them for her kingdom.

But the Chamber might ask for more. And she would give it. In the same way Weed would give everything for chaos, for the one chance to watch the world crumble. In her mind, they stand strong and tall above the chaos, having lit the fire and then stepped back to watch it burn. But there is another version of that picture, and sometimes it creeps into her mind unbidden. They are still together, and the world still burns, but in version they both die, alive only long enough to see it all begin. It is not her first choice, but she does not fear the possibility of it.

And she believes that he does not fear the possibility of it either. She imagines that the same images run in his head. She may or may not be in his version (to be fair, she’d watch the world burn without him, if she had to), but she trusts that he’ll give everything. Just as she will too. Greatness never comes without its price.

No, it will never be love between them. It is too powerful, too great, too impossible to ever be something so simple as love. They are more than that. They will always be more than that.

She laughs at his words, knowing he doesn’t mind the pain. He’s the one who curled himself into the talons, after all. He seeks pain like she does. It’s a reminder of what it’s like to be alive, to be untethered from anything but the present and the thousand possibilities the future holds. “Lies are unbecoming on you,” she says, which is of course in itself a lie. He is a liar. There’s no denying that. Their last plan had been built entirely on lies.

“If I say it now, how will you know that I mean it? How will you know that I’m not simply saying it to hear what else you can offer?” It is a valid question, though he’s no fool. And she, too, is a liar sometimes. It’s a lie she does not try to conceal; their eyes locked together, the want becoming almost a need in her eyes. It’s like a fire that start in a her belly and radiates out, consumes her. They could be closer. They should be closer.

No, no. They need to be.

And then, very quietly, she says it. “I missed you.”

straia

the raven queen of the chamber