(Backdated entry)
Rozacia stood at the window, hands tucked into ragged sleeves. She left it open despite the whispering breeze that brought a slight chill in and unbound a few strands of spun sunlight from the hood of her tattered cloak. She waited, watched for movement in shadow on the rooftops in her vision. Her green eyes narrowed as she strained to catch a brief flicker of black against night. Straightening from the long strain that bore her down, she knew that her clothes could not hide her regal bearing, and she would be no less for him, even if they were forsaken.
After a time, her ears caught the faintest creak on the boards behind her. “I hate this,” she spoke into the wind. “Hiding in the night like rats.” She turned to catch the slight sardonic twist to his mouth, and immediately regretted the words, for the night was his time. “Aniam, I'm sorry…”
Aniam was perched, crouched and on his toes in the doorway, a small cat of a man in black as tattered as hers. The only thing of beauty left to them both was the bow in his hands. Everything else of power and station was left in the tomb of her husband. She remembered the day she gave the simple looking thing of wood and orichalchum threads to Aniam, made to hide it's strength so that he could be her eyes in the cities and those who did not know him wouldn't know him for what he was. He long treasured it as a sign of her hidden affection, she knew, and such it was. Aniam was the last left to her, and long been the only being Rozacia fully trusted. Aniam spied for her, killed for her, kept her secrets. He held the confidences of a friend, and more. Imprudently, he told her once before her mate died that she was his crime, that she came first among everything else, and so he truly was the Son of Sorrows. The name of the bow was Nakane, Sorrow in another tongue. He shook his head, cutting off her words. “No, my queen. This is not for you. I don't deny you your feelings.” Typically soft, Aniam infused the words with a hundred meanings.
He placed Nakane to the side and padded over to pour the last bit of wine they had. “What news, then?” Rozacia asked, firmly.
Aniam paused in his efforts to say, without a hint of fear, “They close on us like starving hounds on a wounded hare. I doubt we'll see another sunset.”
“At least it's ended then.” Rozacia patted the lesser sword she now carried at her side. “And maybe we will not be easy meat. Maybe some of them will fall as well.”
Aniam smiled some secret little smile. “I would expect you to say no less.” In old habit, he took a drink from the goblet he poured before
bringing it to her. Rozacia begged him a number of times to not do that, though now it made her smile back at him, despite the dark tidings.
Holding the goblet in both hands, Aniam presented it to her as if they were still in court. Instead of taking it, she put her hands over his so both held it. Blinking dark eyes at her, Aniam almost seemed to color in the moonlight. “Please, my queen, I would not sully you with the dirt on my hands.” She knew what he meant.
“Even now? Even though I am the one who put it there?” A wave of regret of excesses tore through her, penitent too late.
“Even so.”
“I don't care.” She inched a bit closer to him, adding softer, “My heart.” Pulling hands and goblet to her mouth, she drank deeply, then dropped her hands to his arms and kissed him softly, tasting the same wine on his lips.
Rozacia was relieved when he kissed her in return, almost shyly, the first real kiss of long time lovers. When it ended, they stood close and looked at one another, and Aniam intimately brushed the stray hair from her cheek. “I will not let them take you alive.”
“They will have to kill us both. I will not take your poison, Aniam. I told you that months ago.”
“I know.” She could see in the moonlight the heavy weight of sadness in his eyes. “That's why you already have. We both have.”
Gasping, Rozacia stumbled back, hand to her lips. Her eyes found the winecup. Yes, he would know what it would take to kill her. “Tra…” She couldn't finish the word, falling to a strangled 'Why'?
Aniam bowed his head. “You commanded me once to keep the Tor'avesh safe, even from you if I had to. I cannot risk letting them take you alive.” He looked up at her only with his eyes. “Can you forgive me in our final hour?”
Resignation pushed her to the floor and after a time she spoke. “What will it do?”
Aniam came closer to her. “We will sleep, love, and never wake.”
She reached up with a long fingered hand. “Then come, let us sleep together.”
A pair of bodies were found, a pair of forsaken Celestials. Whatever secrets they held were gone, and the only object was a plain-looking longbow that no one could use.