31_days | [November 7th] [Original] Truth

Title: Truth
Day/Theme: 8. the tiniest trickle of relief
Series: My original Joriende series
Character/Pairing: Sarestyn, Mirai/Mezrael, Melia Mwelen-Loriath
Rating: G

She understood nothing. Her life had been turned upside down, one moment she had been a girl with no past, the next she was the heir to a kingdom in which she had not even lived since she had been almost a toddler.

Wild grey eyes looked this way and that as she looked around her, suspicious of everyone her gaze fell upon. She had never felt more alone, even when she was in a room filled with people. But even those who she knew she now regarded with distrust, feeling like she had never known any of them at all. It was simply too much, she wanted nothing more than to just run and never look back.

”That is a lie, a filthy lie, it simply cannot be true...” She said, her voice wavering. If someone would just deny what she had heard, say that it was a lie, that they had made a mistake. That...

Why had no-one told her of this after her mind had been all but violated, her memories ransacked through by a complete stranger, something stunning found therein. She had felt the surprise through the hands that had held her head, coming through into the real world from her dredged up and uncovered memories to look on the shocked eyes of the mage who had woken her past. There had been looks cast her way, whispers. Sarestyn had felt sick. Waiting for someone to tell her what about her was... special had been hard, but had never happened. “Someone tell me it's a lie!” She screamed, her hands up against her head, pulling at her pale locks, her grey eyes wild.

“Calm down, Sarestyn!” That woman, who had said that she had been her mother's friend, was walking to her.

Sarestyn turned her head away. “No, stop lying!” She couldn't bear it. The woman's smile touched her deep, wrenching at her. “You are just saying so because you were friends... you want her to live on in me and I am not her! I am not! I cannot be!”

Her head swam as she felt that she could not breathe. The room around her was hazy, the figures moving around her, their voices coming as from far off. Then familiar, comforting hands were around her and she was happy. Happy to be cared for, happy to have at least one person who she could count on, whom she felt like she knew.

As she cried, she thought briefly on the irony of the fact that the only person she now trusted had tried to kill her not too long ago. An assassin sent after her because of who she was. “I am doing this because of who you are,” Mezrael, whom Sarestyn had known as Mirai, had said as she had been holding a dagger to her throat. In the face of her anguish, the assassin had relented and had proceeded to drag her through a long adventurous journey, which had led both of them where they now were.

She knew, deep down, that Mezrael had always known who she was, and had kept her in the dark to spare her. That had to mean that not all of the feelings between them had been a lie, that she had cared.