Chapter 100 A call to remembrance of Wrath
Amarien's POV
"I want nothing from a beast like you!" I spat, turning to storm, but Theron grabbed my arm, pulling me to himself like I was a piece of garment he caught in the breeze.
He leaned in, his pine-sweet breath in my face, "I'm not your enemy, Amarien."
"You took my child," my eyes blazed with hurt and unshed tears.
"I saved your life," he said softly. "That child would have killed you."
"Then I'd rather die!" I shook as the pain blazed in my heart. Tears streamed down my face. I recall the first day I felt him kick. It was too suddenly but poignant. I swore I'd protect him that moment, even at the cost of my life.
Every suffering I endured in the nunnery all these months was to keep him alive. I fought for his survival even when I had no will to survive on my own.
For nine months, I had dealt with the worst pains of my life, but kept my head high through it all, knowing my baby would survive if I just braced myself, if I endured one more trial with my head up high.
And now, he's gone.
It was a waste!
Nine months of pain and suffering were a waste! How could I still be alive when he is gone!
Theron's grip on me tightened. It was like he could read the thoughts in my heart, seeing the pain in my eyes.
"I've never seen a being so angry, yet their pain and anger are misdirected." He said, running the back of his palm down my face.
I look up at him, shivering now. The breeze from the river seems to be shilling my bones. Or was it Theron and his powerful effects making me feel so?
"…Amarien," he started.
My name sounded different in his mouth. Not soft. Not cruel. It was measured like a truth weighed before it was spoken.
"You want answers," Theron continued, his voice low, steady as the river sliding past us. "But answers hurt more than lies. And you have already bled enough."
"I don't want your words," I snapped, though my body betrayed me, trembling, weak, clinging to anger because without it I would collapse. "I want my child."
His jaw tightened. For a moment, something dark flickered behind his icy blue eyes, something ancient, something that knew grief too well.
"You want to blame me?" he said. "Go ahead."
My eyes blazed at him.
"It's easier for you, isn't it? Because I am here. Because it is easier to hate a beast than to face what men did to you."
"Stop," I whispered, clamping my hands over my ears. "Don't."
But Theron did not stop.
"You were hated long before you ever carried my nephew in your womb," he said, his words cutting clean and precise. "In the human world, you were marked the moment you were born."
I turned to live, but he snatched my arm, pulling me back to himself, close enough that the breath of his words brushed my ears.
"They said you killed your mother to save yourself-"
My breath hitched.
"Your father," Theron went on, merciless now, "sold you for less than a stable horse. For a piece of dirt. He handed you over and called it fate because you took the woman he loved. They called you cursed concubine, didn't they?"
I tried to pull off his grip, but they were locked in me.
"How would you like that fate on your tiny baby?" He leaned on, almost taunting. "You would love to die for him, won't you? Well, would you love for him to be branded cursed all his life because of you?! You could have died, Amarien!"
I shook my head violently. "Don't say it."
But Theron was unrelenting. He wasn't taunting; now he was angry.
"They spat when you passed," he said, his blue eyes ignited with fire. "They whispered that your womb would rot, that any man who touched you would be damned. And still, you endured."
My hands fell to my sides. My legs felt hollow.
"You survived the emperor," Theron said, and now his voice sharpened with something close to rage. "A man who looked at you and saw something to own. To break. To stain."
My chest burned. Every word struck true, dragging memories I had buried under layers of obedience and silence.
"He haunted you," Theron said. "With smiles. With gifts that were never gifts. With promises that rotted the moment they left his mouth. With his predatory touch! He promised you the powers I'd the heavens yet left you to fit in hell in that nunnery."
Theron scoffed. "And even after all of this, you survived the nunnery," Theron continued, his voice lowering. "Beatings disguised as prayer. Starvation called discipline. They told you suffering would cleanse you, but all it did was remind you of all you've ever known in your life. Restless. Your fate was never yours; it was theirs!"
My stomach twisted violently.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
"Enough," I begged.
"And then," Theron said softly, cruelly, "there was Daevir."
My breath shattered.
"No," I whispered. "Don't say his name. I don't want to think of him."
"You staked your life on him," Theron said anyway. "Your heart. Your body.
Your future."
"I loved him," I choked.
"And he loved you," Theron replied, "until loving you became inconvenient."
Pain exploded in my chest, raw and blinding.
"He heard you," Theron said quietly. "Calling his name from that tower. Begging. Bleeding. And he did not turn back."
I staggered, gripping my arms around myself.
"He left you," Theron continued. "Left you to be beaten. Left you to carry his child alone. Left you to rot in silence while he took a crown."
Tears streamed freely now, my body shaking uncontrollably.
"I don't want to hear this," I sobbed. "Please."
Theron's grip tightened, not to hurt me, but to anchor me.
"You deserve the truth," he said. "Even when it shatters you."
I looked up at him, hatred and grief warring in my chest.
"Surprise, Amarien," he said coldly. "The man who abandoned you? The emperor who did nothing while you were dragged away?"
My heart thudded painfully.
"He has a child now," Theron said.
The world stopped.
"A legitimate heir," he continued. "Healthy. Strong. A son who will take his place."
My vision blurred.
"It seems," Theron said, voice edged with bitter mockery, "that the gods have blessed him, regardless of the evils he did to you. Regardless of the child he let die."
Something inside me snapped.