( AN: Whew! It's been a while since I wrote any fanfiction; I began this again as a project to work on in between writing original works. This one will likely be a shorter one (I make no promises, though) & I have a larger story for The Patriot in the works that's more focused on Tavington as well!
Anyways. Without further ado, here it is! I hope you enjoy!
P.S: I'm also on archiveofourown now under the pseud sonatainink! )
He had seen this before. Watched it all play out, like the final scene in a tragedy. Death was a specter that haunted him, in nooks and shadows, in fragments of nightmares that seized him with cold, unforgiving fingers. The shadows danced, hissed and sang with glee, soon, soon you will join us. Of course he could run. Turn around and slip away under the cover of gunfire and confusion, delay the inevitable. But Death does not like to be cheated - a portion that is demanding, unyielding. He was a soldier, therefore knew this better than anyone. But every fiber of his being railed against the unfairness of it all; how was it that he, the last of his family, should be taken also before his time? Years of toil, of enduring, it was all as dust now. Still, fleeing was unquestionable and abandoning his brothers-in-arms not even to be thought of. Jaw set, he steeled himself.
It began and ended with the sweet babble of a creek. The sudden thunder of horses' hooves, the fury-filled eyes of a man intent upon atonement. He saw those eyes, so filled with grief and rage, long after the smoke cleared out. Long after legionnaire and rebel alike fled the field, leaving him with nothing but the whispering long grass and his own dying breath.
Death, so swift to act, was certainly taking his own sweet time finishing the job. So, (it seemed to Bordon that even his thoughts grew weak), the bastard is not satisfied with simply killing me, but must draw it out. Did he watch from the tree line, or somewhere else out of periphery, cruel amusement displayed across his features? (Does Death have a face?) No matter. He would not beg, but must suffer it bravely.
Breath after agonizing breath.
Whisper after whisper through the grass.
And then, there were memories.
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pale white horse (a patriot fanfiction)
Fanfiction𝐻𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒷𝑒𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒. 𝒲𝒶𝓉𝒸𝒽𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓉 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝓎 𝑜𝓊𝓉, 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒶𝓁 𝓈𝒸𝑒𝓃𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝒶 𝓉𝓇𝒶𝑔𝑒𝒹𝓎. An account of Bordon's life, and the ghost that haunted him, from childhood to the very end. (the c...
