Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Ad Vitam Aeternam ❯ Preface ( Prologue )

A/N: Hola chickies! Sorry it's been so long, but here's something that I hope all y'all will like. It's just a little original piece that I've been working on, and I hope that I get good reviews on it. It's a little rough, as I'm still not sure where I'm going with the plot and stuff, so forgive any things you don't like. Oh, and this is my first attempt at a first person POV, so don't hash it too much. Happy reading!

 

Disclaimer: I own EVERYTHING! If anyone steals my characters, I swear I'll hunt you down.

 

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There it was again. That far away, unfathomable look in his deep emerald eyes as he stared into the mirror across the bar. It was the second time that night that it had flitted across his beautiful face, and it made something inside me twist with pain. He was hiding something from me. It was as simple as that, and it hurt like hell. We'd been friends for how long now? And he was still trying to hide things from me.

 

I bit my lip as I looked away, lifting my beer to my lips. I took a sip, grimacing at the taste. Tonight the beer was bitter, and it wasn't doing anything for my mood, which was steadily darkening with every passing second of his silence. Everything about the bar we sat in put me on edge, from the twanky lighting to the cockeyed bartender. I glanced warily over my shoulder, feeling the alcohol dulling my senses. If I wasn't careful I knew I would let more slip than I intended, so I pushed the beer away. I could feel those deep emerald pools on me as I licked my lips.

 

“If you aren't going to tell me why you're being such an ass, I suggest you stop staring at me,” I hissed. I turned my burning gaze on him, angry at his silence. I watched as his brow furrowed, and he looked away. He took a swig of his beer and sighed, running a hand through his light blonde hair.

 

“You couldn't possibly understand,” he said, letting the bottle slip from his fingers to the bar with a loud bang. He stood quickly, frustrated apparently. I watched him turn to leave, and, enraged and slightly drunk, I leapt up, following him into the cold night air.

 

“What wouldn't I understand?” I challenged darkly, my voice quiet. “You think you've got it so damn hard. But you don't have to deal with—“ I felt my throat constrict as he turned those damned green eyes on me. It must have been the worry and concern I saw there, and the booze, that made tears fill my eyes. I turned away quickly, needing to escape before I couldn't stop the words from rolling off my tongue. I vaguely heard him call my name as I broke into a jog, knowing only that I had to escape him. I had to get away from that gaze that I could just fall into for days, and that voice that sent chills down my spine when he said my name. I had to get away from the effect that he had on me, as if when his eyes met mine, truth serum was injected into my veins, and all I could do was spill my heart to him.

 

As I slowed, I heard the sound of his heavy footsteps behind me. Turning, I bristled as he neared, reaching for my hands. “Don't touch me!” I yelped, pulling away from him.

 

“Be reasonable,” he said quietly, clearly not as drunk as I was. He managed to catch my wrists in his hands, and he pulled me closer. “You're not thinking clearly right now.”

 

I scowled, putting my hands on his strong chest. I looked up at him, for a moment feeling dizzy as he held my gaze. I felt my heart flutter at the look in his eyes, and, flustered, I pushed him away, hiding behind my anger. It was easier for me to be angry with him for lying to me and not telling me what was going on than it was for me to succumb to my feelings and put my pride aside and forgive him and break down in front of him, which is what I sorely wanted to do. But, as wounded as I felt, I couldn't help but wince at the helplessness in his gaze.

 

“Why are you so angry with me all the time?” he asked, his deep green eyes searching mine. “What happened to us?”

 

My scowl darkened, and I crossed my arms. “You happened to us,” I said darkly. “Ever since your father told you that you would carry on in his stead, you've become a real prick.” I noticed that his eyes darkened, and he crossed his arms. Apparently he didn't like the fact that I was right. I lifted my chin, daring him to say something.

 

“Is that so?” he asked, stepping closer. His emerald gaze was cold as he glared at me. “Well, excuse me for having other priorities.” He turned his back to me at this point, which he knew would only serve to make me even more furious.

 

I felt my blood boil as he started to walk away, and, unthinkingly, I blurted the first thing that came to the front of my hazy mind. “You know, friends are supposed to be there for each other!” I yelled angrily. It took all my restraint not to start hurling rocks at him like I used to when we were younger. I watched him pause.

 

“What did you say?” he asked, his eyes wide and voice incredulous.

 

I felt my lip trembling as tears crowded my eyes. “You weren't there when she died!” I yelled angrily at him. I know I had sworn to myself that I would never say anything to him about it, but I didn't have any control over my tongue as words dripped from my lips. “You said you would always be there, and you weren't there when I needed you most!” I wiped at bitter tears, both angry and confused. Why was I crying? And why couldn't I seem to stop myself?

 

He turned to face me, that helpless look on his face again. “I already told you,” he said quietly. “I was summoned. I can't refuse a summons.”

 

I felt my body trembling with all my pent up emotions. “I need you more than they do!” I screamed, angry at the whole world. I felt like a small child pouting, but if I didn't say it, I felt as if I would die. Keeping it in was like holding my breath, and once I said it, I felt as if I had exhaled. “I love you, dammit! Can't you see that?!” And then the feeling that my stomach had dropped to my feet overwhelmed me, making me feel nauseous.

 

I watched him freeze, and I slapped my hands over my mouth. Why had I said that? I felt my brain reeling as I watched him stare at me. Why had I said that? What had possessed me to admit my deepest, darkest secret to him? I felt my eyes widen in fear and uncertainty as he stepped closer. I desperately wished I could take those words back, or that I could rewind time, but, no matter how many times I wished it, it never happened. I backed away, flinching when he caught my hands in his. I could feel my heart fluttering in my chest, a sickening flash of excitement shooting through me. Once more I felt dizzy as I felt myself drowning in his liquid emerald gaze, falling farther and farther into something I knew would consume me. My knees felt weak as he searched my frightened gaze.

 

“Do you know how long I've waited to hear you say that?” he whispered, his deep green eyes soft and filled with emotions I was scared to even try to understand. He smiled softly, and I felt my body trembling. I knew what would come next, and it terrified me. I glanced around frantically, wishing I could melt into the ground at my feet. I didn't want this. Not now. I gasped as I realized he was drawing me closer, and, without thought, frightened and panicked, I did all I could think of.

 

I slapped him. Hard. The air was still as the smack echoed through the night, and I struggled from his grasp, seeing the surprise and slight discomfort on his face as what happened registered. I watched him blink several times, his eyes focusing on me.

 

“What was that for?” he demanded, the old ridicule that I was used to seeing returned to his gaze.

 

I breathed a shuddering sigh as I took another step back. I knew if I looked hard enough, I could see the hurt in his eyes, but I didn't want to. I didn't want to see anything in his eyes. I was tired of guessing about how he felt, and I just wanted things to go back to the way they had been. Before the war, and his father's retirement, and the king's summons. I slumped against the side of the bar, feeling weak and exhausted.

 

“You were being a prick again,” I whispered, avoiding his gaze. I turned, walking toward the road. “I'm going home. I'll see you later.” And with that I left him, standing there in the darkness, his electric gaze burning on my back. I knew then that I couldn't see him any more.

 

*********

 

I sniffled as I walked through the darkness. I could still feel his deep green eyes on me, and I knew he was following me at a distance. He'd always been that way. We would fight, I would storm off, and he would follow, keeping watch over me and waiting for me to cool off, and thinking of a good way to apologize. Well, this time I wasn't going to cool off. I glanced over my shoulder, seeing the buckle from his cloak glinting in the moonlight. I felt my scowl darken. I wanted to turn and tell him to leave me alone, but something about that made me feel worn out. I felt my shoulders slump as I tried to ignore him.

 

When I reached the stretch of the dirt road that led to my house, I broke into a sprint. I didn't bother to look back to see if he was still following or not. Once I reached the door, I threw it open, slamming it behind me. I could hear the light pitter patter of the rain that had been threatening to fall all evening, and I knew, if I looked outside, he would be there, standing in the rain, waiting for me.

 

I knew he would be there again in the morning, waiting for me to awaken, and I know he will be watching over me when he realizes that I'm not there anymore. Even now, as my horse gallops blindly into the black night, and the rain pelts my face, I know he's thinking of me. And that scares me. How can one being become so far wedged into a person's heart that that's all they think about?

 

I don't know what it is that causes us humans to love one another, but after suffering the pain and heartache of having someone I care about more deeply in this world than anyone else taken from me without so much as a goodbye, I know that I will not; no, I cannot love anyone ever again. Not even him, the boy that ridiculed me, and caused my heart to skip a beat, who is now the man that could ask me to tear out my heart and I would do it willingly. That is why I am running away. I know that in the morning, when the news has spread about the village, they will talk about me. I know that he will try to make them see that I had to have a good reason for leaving, but no one can escape Carrington fully, especially not the Governor's daughter. They say that if you are born in Carrington, you will die in Carrington, and I once believed that. But, after having been around him for so long, and after getting to know the king's mission to rebuild this country, I no longer wish to remain in this place where I will never achieve anything other than playing the part I was born to play. And I refuse to be anyone's puppet. After the loss of my father, and then my sister's death by disease, I came to understand that life is too short to waste, and I won't let those stupid villagers, or that stupid man, tell me who I should be or how I should live my life.

 

But nothing can heal the deep wound in my heart, or replace my family and my friends, or the love I have now lost. Or, should I say the love I'm leaving behind? I know he'll try to find me. And I know I must keep on the move until he realizes that I no longer wish to see him. He is the last link to a past I wish to forget, and I know, if I am to move on, I must forget him as well. And knowing this saddens me. I know he'll always be watching over me, and I know he will always know my whereabouts, as he has eyes and ears in places I cannot even begin to fathom, but I will forget about him. I will go somewhere else, far from that lonely mountain village, and start a new life. Perhaps even find a new love.

 

This thought saddens me also, as all I can think about is him, and the pain in my chest where my heart used to be. But I must. If I wish to heal, and move on, I must escape him. I must tear out my heart and leave it there in that lonely and forsaken place. I can never return.