Cœurvianne looked brilliant in the sun. She looked brilliant in everything, but that wasn't the question at hand. She was sixteen, innocent, her smile was still as radiant as the sunflowers that she danced, and her laughter was like fresh rain after a long summer day. She was kind, with the strong belief that all children are innocent and bright, no matter what their history was, or what they do to survive. She was the sun, the moon, the stars, yet her words were poison.
"Cœurvianne, myi soule, youe're speaking of treason."
Cœurvianne frowned, and it looked so wrong on her innocent face, and she played with the ends of her cotton sleeves. "Change is coming, Cherie, you can't stop it. They have no right to rule us like this."
"We are them, Cœurv, this," she waved her hands around, her nails broken and scratched, her palms calloused from years of hard work, "is madness"
Cœurvianne bit her lip, her touch was so gentle and soft. "Iy don't want to do this without youe." Her dress blew in the wind, catching on the flowers that surrounded them, but she didn't make a move to fix it.
"Then don't do it." She pulled herself away from Cœurvianne's, and took a step back. The ground sank beneath her feet, the stems of the flowers scratched her ankles. "Youe're going to get youerself killed."
"Love," Cœurvianne pleaded, her sorrowful eyes begging for understanding, "this is important."
"Iy thought Iy was." Her eyes stung, her hands shook. "Iy thought you told me youe were only ai heartbeat away," she accused jabbing a slender finger into Cœurvianne's chest, "that youe loved me more than thei stars."
Cœurvianne gently took her hand, and then cupped her face. "Iy love youe. Iy am only ai heartbeat away. Always."
"Right." Her heart sank, and she lashed out. "And that's why youe've been sneaking around and lying to me." Hysterical, she pulled away from her hands, letting the cold air wash away the warmth that lingered from Cœurvianne's love.
Cœurvianne's face melted. "Iy didn't want to hurt youe."
"Consider me already hurt." There was a moment of pause, and she turned around, tears leaking from her eyes. Her skin itched, and she hastily wiped her eyes.
The words were rushed out of Cœurvianne's lips. They were a plea for her to stay. An attempt for middleground, an understanding between the two of them. "Iy'm a part of thee revolution."
The wind howled.
"What?" She spun around, the ground crunched under her feet, her mind raced. Betrayal bubbled in her chest, her tears melting into anger.
"Iy'm fighting for our independence." Cœurvianne defended: her arms crossed, her face colder than she had ever seen.
"Cœurv, why?" Her voice was soft, but it trembled with fear and anger and resentment.
As Cœurvianne took a step forward, she took a step back, keeping the distance between the two of them. Her shoulders were raised, her eyes wide, and Cœurvianne's face fell. "Love, they're starving us."
"Last time Iy checked, youe were eating just fine." Her voice raised, breaking, the "Am Iy not giving youe enough" wasn't said. Both heard it.
"Others aren't." Cœurvianne's voice raised for the first time. It lashed out at her, cold and harsh, and she shivered at the tone.
"And youe were going to tell me this when? What happened to us Cœurv?" She didn't back down, she couldn't. She had to save what was theirs. She had to save those small moments of freedom just between the two of them.
Cœurvianne cried, her eyes were red, and she kept trying to reach out. "Iy'm doing this for us. Why can't youe understand?"
"That youe're hiding things from me. Betraying thei crown? Youe're my order, Cœurv. Among everything, youe were my stars, and sky, and heart, and nouu youe want to just change everything we were?"
"People need me." Cœrvianne's brows furrowed, and her eyes darkened.
"Iy need youe." She broke. She hugged herself as the day seemed to darken. "Iy need youe, and maybe Iy'm just being selfish-"
"Youe are." Cœurvianne snapped, her nose was scrunched up, and she took a step forward. "Youe're not the only person in thee world."
"Nok, Iy'm not," She gathered up her skirt, the course material scratching at her fingers, grounding her from this nightmare. "But Iy was supposed to be youer world."
The wind howled as the two women stared at each other. Cœurvianne's features softened into worry. "Then Iy think it's time we part." Her voice trembled. "We can't go on like this."
"Youe're leaving me?" It was whispered, and hurt. It made Cœurvianne cry, her eyes glistening in the melting sun.
"Iy love you, but Iy can't stay. Not like this." And Cœurvianne turned around and left.
The wind swept and she sank to her knees sobbing.
So she learned. She learned that sometimes unconditional love is conditional, sometimes always is not forever, and love burns when you let it go.
So she didn't let that love go. She let the name she had broken everything for, she had left everything for, the name she had created for herself rise. A part of her life had died that day, but another part of her had been born, created, mastered.
And the small operation she had brewed between stolen kisses and long letters expanded, Cœurvianne only a little voice in her mind that worried about ethics she had long forgotten.
When the revolution started, she was ready for the blood, for the fighting, she had prepared for the downfall of a country. She was not ready to watch as Cœurvianne risked everything to achieve the unachievable, to watch Cœurvianne win with heads rolling down hills, winning in dresses she had once worn to picnics in fields of sunflowers.
The plans shifted. A brand new country started, and so all her work would change with it. She adapted. She worked with whispers, with daggers, and Cœurvianne worked with words and bayonets. She worked for the newfound government, tried to bring order to the new country. Cœurvianne went quiet.
And when she came back to Cœurvianne, to prove that she cared, that she changed the world for the better too. Cœurvianne had moved on. Married a man. She had a child, a small child named Persephone. And the small child looked at her with naive and innocent eyes that looked just like her mother's.
Her heart fell, she stared at the being that watched the blood drip down her hands, and she surprised herself as the words tumbled out of her own mouth: "Iy'm youer Mère, nouu."
Cœurvianne's blood burned her hands like acid, but when the marionette reached up to grab them, the pain receded. It was final, she was now a mother, just like she and Cœurvianne planned so long ago.
The final lesson she learned from Cœurvianne was short: Love is a cruel god.
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Science FictionNo one breathed. No one blinked. The only thing Ileia could hear was the sound of death. It was going to happen, There was nothing she could do except keep Kallen safe. -------- Feelings are useless, they get in the way of her job, in the way of the...
