fuck all your dreams; they're not all they seem.
His name to her, of course, was not dad; but that didn’t make it any less sharp to hear. He’d gone through life thinking that words were nothing, words meant nothing, could do nothing if you just didn’t listen – the real pain was in the trade of blow after blow but look, here, this singular word was like a dagger, puncturing deep where no tooth or claw had ever reached before, nor had ever threatened to reach. By gods, he’d experienced loss; multiple homes and his parents and his titles, respect of his peers (if he had ever had that), people he had loved, people he had considered brothers... But never something like this.
He watched with his amber eyes storming, four seasons at once, as her gaze travelled to the young daughter at his side. And, even him, blockhead, knew what she was thinking (perhaps because he was thinking it too, had always been thinking it) – what could’ve been, what should’ve been, what never was.
”Ana. Go find your sister.” his voice unusually husky; though with emotion or urgency, his young metal-and-cream daughter could not tell, neither could he… Though he knew that he, selfishly, didn’t want his youngest to hear this. She ran off with not another word, rather unlike her, but it would seem this day was a day for surprises and shock, so why not? Romek watched her disappear into the underbrush, before turning back to Lilitha.
She said she understood but he saw something in her eyes – pain? (did he? Or was it his own?). He had given up on the idea that they would be reunited long ago, signed her off to the bellies of the wolves or the rivers, or perhaps killed by another… He was not prepared for this. Not even remotely.
say something
he willed himself but there was nothing, nothing, more nothing – a blank abyss, gaping cavern – whatever you want to call it, he had a black hole for a brain and nothing was escaping. Did she feel like this? Or did she just assume he had abandoned her, left her to rot? Forgotten about her, didn’t care about her? Or all of the above. She came to find out whether she could, not to reconnect with those who had left her behind… of course. Abandoned. Lost. Is that what his mother felt like? Is that what he had done to her? Forsaken her, forgotten her, scorned her – all over again. He understood suddenly, all at once, why she languished away, why she hid and why she cried, why she was never much of a mother at all. By gods, mother, thought Romek, please help, please. Please. Just one more minute. Soft, kind, gentle – she would know what to say. She always knew what to say. Please, mother, please just help me. Help me.
”Lilitha,” he began, thinking of solid Vanquish, of Demian and Nocturnal and his brothers and sisters, and the sands of the Deserts, the ice fields of the Tundra, his allies and friends, all of them – ghosts, standing behind him, ghost in front – surrounded. Trapped. He had never felt trapped before. ”I made a mistake. I was wrong.”
”I shouldn’t have left you behind. It was a mistake. I was wrong.”
”I looked for you.” though it was little comfort to her now, he reckoned, he wanted her to know. ”I thought of you every single day, long after I stopped looking for you.”
He remembers the fairy’s words, probably just as well as Lili does (though how could he, really, he hadn’t had to live through it every day for literal years of his life). She ought to be able to cross now; if she wanted to. There was a whole host of reasons why she would not want to but…
”Please. Please stay for a little while. You don’t have to, of course. I have missed you…missed who you were. I would like to get to know you again. If you want. If that would be good for you.”
And he waited. He could hardly blame her if she wanted to stay away, start afresh - he'd probably go for that option, too. But he couldn't not try, couldn't leave her to think that she was unwanted - she had never been. He hopes, at least, she can find comfort in that, if nothing else.
Romek