Chioniphobia

You Were Mine

Darkness. That's the first thing I remember.

You don't remember everything.

It was dark, and it was cold. And I was scared.

Most are.

It had been a full moon that night, of course. Mim was far from what Grim would call dramatic, but he did have a flair for setting the stage.

She'd been standing in the middle of the lake, her cloak brushing the opaque ice on which she stood when she'd heard him.

Then I saw the Moon.

He told me to leave you.

It was so big, and it was so bright.

He had...plans for you, he said.

She'd gazed up at him- first in shock, then in disbelief, then in anger. How dare he? How dare he presume to interfere with her design? The Man in the Moon could pick his favorites, yes. He was free to bestow his blessings on anyone he wished, appoint his 'Guardians.' It didn't matter to Grim. Enough people died that letting a few fly beyond her grasp was hardly an issue. But the boy- this boy- he was hers. Let Mim keep his immortal ones, but the boy would not be doomed to eternal life if she had a say in it.

And she did have a say in it. One couldn't not have a say in it if one's was the only voice in the matter.

She passed through the ice as easily as the cold seeping through to the water below.

I ignored him, of course. I have always ignored the whims of others. Great or small, rich or poor, strong or weak: none could command me.

She didn't swim, exactly: there was no flailing of arms or kicking of feet. Instead, she drifted over to the boy, her cloak enveloping him like a shadow.

He was so pale.

She smiled at him, caressing his face, running her thumb over his lip.

"You're so young," she whispered as her eyes flickered over his face.

Grim wrapped her arms around the boy and kissed the red from his mouth, his cheeks, his nose. His blood stilled in his skin, and the Reaper saw the flush of youth fade and shift to the chilled tones of a corpse.

I left my mark on you.

She drifted away, and watched the boy be swallowed in moonbeams as he floated up to the surface of the lake.

It seemed to chase the darkness away.

He didn't "chase" me. I left of my own accord. I let him have you. Whatever he might make of you, you were mine.

Or so I thought.

He bid me stay away from you. I acquiesced. Why should I fight to keep what already belonged to me? You would seek me out, eventually. I was sure of it.

Even immortals tire of living.