89 | ACT VI, SCENE VI

P R E V I O U S L Y

Two days later, the first blackthorn in the garden drooped.

[A/N: THIS CHAPTER GETS PRETTY SENTIMENTAL, SO BE READY. AND YES, GOOD LUCK FINDING THE 'FAULT IN OUR STARS' REFERENCE!]

CALCHESTER CITADEL, STEFFITH.

EDWINA

LLEWELLYN AND VANESSA MARRIED EACH other that night in a quiet ceremony at the Citadel.

It was a small, peaceful affair, but what mattered most was the hearts it brought together after all this endless strife, all this endless wrong which had been done behind those closed doors. It was the last chance we had to repair the mistakes of marrying the poor man to the witch who called herself Celestina, the very thing which caused Vanessa such desperate, desolate heartbreak. They both had deserved time, much more time - and we owed them this one last night.

It was the last thing of joy that we all had, the last piece of happiness before the war fell upon on next morning.

Our plans were made, our men were ready.

The air was so fraught with tension that you could have sliced fruit with it.

Everyone had dressed in their very best, as if preparing for their own funeral in colored velvet and gilded silks.

"Llewellyn Valmont and Vanessa LeVane, I now proclaim you man and wife," Eros whispered tearfully, kissing his golden haired daughter on the cheek. Clad in a gown of ivory gossamer, Nessa gave him a dazzling smile as she flung her arms around Llewellyn's neck, pressing her lips to his. The crowd cheered, a few chuckling loudly. I saw Emeline hastily wipe away a tear, and I warmly put a hand on her arm.

"It's fine... I just - tomorrow-"

"It will be fine," I said reassuringly. Theodore appeared at her side, inhaling deeply before sipping his wine and placing an arm around her shoulder.

"If we die tomorrow," he muttered, "I will have only one regret. My brother would have liked this wine," he told her with a grin. She choked back on her tears and couldn't help but smile at the grin on his face. The Grendel male turned to me, biting back on a smile. "We are not going down without giving the fuckers a fight."

"That's the spirit," I said throatily, clinking our glasses together. Halette joined me, a sad smile on her lips, a tipsy Vincent beside her. Her eyes were brimming with tears even as I put down my glass to hug her tightly. My throat closed up with emotion as I tried to fight the burning in my eyes.

"Just know that meeting you was the best thing that happened to me," she whispered, squeezing my shoulder. I felt her shake with a sob before I pulled back, cupping her face with my hands.

"Just know that I would go through all this again for you," I breathed back.

"We will survive this," she said shakily. "I know we will."

The only thing I could give her in return was a grave smile, a smile that could not even reach my eyes as I looked into her forest green ones, shining with hope.

The evening passed on in a blur of farewells and goodbyes, every conversation making my heart sink even further. It was all I could do to not break down even as I saw my family, my friends... this could be the last time I would be seeing some of them.

I caught sight of Tristan in the corner, talking to Sarette over a glass of scotch. He was wearing a scowl on his face, and so was she. They seemed to be arguing about the shields hanging around the Citadel, their voices rising over the murmurs of the crowd. Leander hung at his sister's side, trying to lure her away with a cocktail. Sarette finally let out a hiss and stormed off, her green silk cloak billowing behind her. Elias and Olinda chuckled nearby as I slipped an arm around Tristan's and pressed a kiss to his lips.

"Everything okay?"

"Mmm," he hummed, spinning me around laughing appreciatively as my obsidian dress glittered in the lights, gleaming like molten silver. "Apparently, the shields aren't thick enough for her. She's not grasping the fact that we need to save our powers for tomorrow."

"Fuck her," I muttered. "Fuck Leander. Fuck the Rotavelles."

"There's only person I'd like to fuck," my husband grinned wickedly, mischief shining in the blue of his eyes. I playfully smacked his arm as he let out a yelp.

"You're drunk, Valmont."

"Cut the poor fellow some slack," Aidon chortled, putting an arm around my shoulders and clapping Tristan on the back. "He's married to a mad woman like you. I'd take my chances against the Titans instead-"

"-you're such an ass," I stuck my tongue out at my brother.

"You tell me," Irina sighed from beside him, her eyes shimmering like molten emeralds. Tristan took Dustin from her hands, balancing the tiny infant on his knee. The baby babbled and cooed, letting out a series of giggles that made me melt.

My heart clenched even tighter as I saw the adorable child raise his chubby fist to try to catch the light bouncing off the glittering black threads on Tristan's collar. He laughed and bent down to let Dustin climb onto his shoulder, chewing on a tiny thumb. He smiled, chuckling as he watched the little baby drool on his shoulder, observing the lights in the sky with big, curious eyes.

I had wanted children. We had wanted them - we had wanted a future.

And fate had decided to take that future away from us.

"Edwina," Irina said softly, pulling me to the side. "If I don't make it tomorrow... if Aidon and I both don't make it - please... my child-"

"Don't think like that," I answered, my voice low.

"Please," she begged, her voice dropping an octave as she tucked a curl of auburn hair behind her ear. "I intend to fight tomorrow. And if I go down... I could die in peace knowing that my son has someone to protect him."

My mother and then Irina - and Dustin. All those people placing their trust in me, very well knowing that I could fail them. If I died tomorrow... I would let them all down.

"Be happy," I said, squeezing her shaking hand. "I will do my best."

"Thank you," she breathed, reaching out to wrap an arm around me and pulling me in a tight embrace. "I - I will never forget all you have done for me. And all those things I had said to you. I'm so sorry."

"It's in the past," I said gently, nudging Tristan. He looked up, the child still letting out a fit of giggles as I dropped to a knee, pressing a kiss on his tiny head. Dustin babbled and cooed at me, bouncing happily as he wrapped a fist around my little finger. "He's staying at the Fortress tomorrow, right?"

The weak, the injured, the women and children who couldn't fight, they were all getting to Arcton Fortress at the crack of dawn. The Fortress had supplies and medicine and food, impregnable as it was. I planned to oversee as the people got settled in, along with goddesses like Vanessa and Celinette. Once the war started, I'd leave to join it, while the others stayed behind with a considerable force and tended to the wounded. Our base of operations too would move from the Citadel to the unsuspecting Arcton Fortress in Rimebay - Steffith was too risky to hold major meetings.

"We tried getting a message to Reynald and Remora again," Helios said from beside me, his face crestfallen. "They answered with this."

In his hands was a golden chest. And inside the golden chest, was a coiled red viper. It curled around in the darkness, hissing and spitting. Underneath it were burnt scraps of paper that were blazing with ink.

The ashes of the letters.

"And we tried to reach out once more to the Halflings as well," Nyx muttered, forlorn. "They sent us the bones of the raven who carried the message."

"And Leonard?" I asked quietly, my blood chilled.

"No reply," Rowan approached with a grim smile. "If you're waiting for him to give a shit, better pack a lunch. It's going to take a while. Leonard is a bastard who doesn't give a fuck as to what happens to us. Or his own brother, Theodore. Or Emeline. Why should he risk his precious Grendel army for half breeds like us?"

"Right," Everard said sullenly, looping an arm around his dark skinned mate's. He came up to me, tilting his head slightly. "I wish I could have known you better, Edwina."

"I wish the same," my voice held with it an aching remorse.

"I have a feeling we would have been the best of friends," Rowan grinned brightly, her gold and diamond bracelets jangling at her wrist. My words got stuck in my throat, as more sorrow welled up in my eyes. I clasped my hand in hers, letting her feel how thankful I was for their help.

"Perhaps the fates have a plan for us."

"Perhaps," she murmured, pouring me another glass of wine and filling it to the brim.

"I never drink before a fight," I protested. "Drinking is what gets me into a fight in the first place."

"I always drink before a fight," she flashed me another smile, downing her wine. I could not help it as my lips turned up, and I took a sip from my own. Tristan tugged me to him insistently, nudging me to look to where he was pointing.

Miriel was perched on a tree, whistling to herself as she carved something out of a block of wood with her knife. Alaric and Drusilla, still with the crown on her head, were standing below, their eyes blazing as they glared at her with loathing simmering in their gaze. Fayette was crooning as she chattered with her sister, Erida. Beside his siblings, Deimos stood on guard, stiff backed and black tempered. A vein throbbed in his temple as his indigo eyes kept on flicking to his daughter, warning gleaming in them as if to say no.

"Never seen Deimos so careful," a laugh slipped out of me. "You scared him for good this time."

"Don't go by his looks. He looks like he might murder Miriel herself," Tristan smirked. "But he won't. Not unless he wants to lose his own daughter."

"He's a bastard... I wonder why he even cares for his family."

"He doesn't. The only person he cares about is himself. The rest are all means to an end," my husband said quietly, blue fires springing up in his curious eyes.

I thought about it for a bit, watching Aeneas studying the stars as he sharpened a sword. Every moment was as fluid as water, moving with seamless grace and precision. A deadly, lethal dance.

"He could have killed me that day," Tristan gulped. "When we found you."

"Is he that good?"

"You don't get to be the god of weapons and warfight for nothing."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his gaze drift to Thanatos and Ambrosine, who had decided to hold an entire table to themselves. I could see the nearby guests flinch at the mere sight of the two immortals, whose sight itself was imposing and foreboding. My hand gripped Tristan's tightly, who had gone stiller and whiter than death.

"I won't let them touch you."

"Hmm," he made a non committal sound. I reached out and cupped his face in my hands, looking right into his sad gaze.

"Tristan," I said firmly, my voice strong. "We'll find a way. But you don't get to give up. Is that clear?"

"She cursed me to death, Edwina."

"We will find a way. I'll protect you," I gritted my teeth, a metallic taste filling my mouth. He smiled, putting down the plate of appetizers he had in one hand, before hauling me right on top of him, both of us squeezed together on a single seat in the constricted space.

"My fiery little protector. What would I do without you?"

"I'm not little, Valmont. You are," I scoffed, popping a bite of a garlic seasoned canape into my mouth. I speared another piece on the fork, tantalizingly waving it at him before he gobbled it up.

"You didn't think I was little last night," he huskily breathed into my ear, skimming his chiseled lips across my jaw. "Especially with all those... cute noises you made when I was inside you."

"Shut up," I chuckled, watching Vivian and Rosalva talk to golden skinned Lunette about some supplies. Her brother, Edmund, prowled around with a panther at his heels, warily watching Rowan and Emerick snap at each other with the occasional comment from the tedious Justaline. Atherton was watching them too, chortling every few minutes.

The newlyweds were roaming around the crowd. Vanessa was rosy cheeked, blushing heavily, every bit the tender maiden. Verona was pleasantly tipsy as she rambled to her aunt, both the women laughing. Llewellyn hovered around his new wife like a nervous butterfly, dapper in smoke grey and sheer black, looking prouder than ever as he caught sight of us.

"She... she looks so lovely, doesn't she?" he nervously let out the string of words, nose pink.

"Gods. You're worse than Eros's lovesick maidens," Tristan rolled his eyes, munching on a wedge of lime, stroking my arm with his knuckles before feeding me a choice piece off his plate. A throaty chuckle rasped out my lips.

"And you both need to get a room," Llewellyn snidely smirked at his elder brother, who playfully smacked him on the head. "Before you start undressing in front of us. Though I suppose everyone would enjoy the show," he looked at us suggestively. Tristan tipped back his head, laughing himself hoarse, the sound drowning out my torrent of curses.

"We're just enjoying our last night before this all goes to shit," I muttered, handing him a glass of water. "As should you. Your wife looks lonely."

"I love her so much," the younger Valmont said excitedly. "But I... I wish we had more time."

"I know, doofus," Tristan said quietly. "Don't spend your last night on regret. Go. Drink. Fuck," he grinned, nudging his younger brother to Nessa. "Tell her you love her."

"I will," he sadly nodded, turning to go. He turned back again, his sad eyes meeting mine, brimming with tears. "I... I - I'll miss you-"

"Gods, Llewellyn," I sighed, holding out an arm to him. "I'm not dead yet," I said softly, stroking his deep black hair. He sniffled slightly, pulling back to look at me with a shaky smile, almost ready to burst into tears.

"Hey. No," Tristan got up from the armchair, his eyes full of love and concern. He pulled his trembling brother into a rib crushing hug. Moisture glinted faintly at the corner of his eyes when he pulled back after a few long minutes.

"I don't want to lose another part of my family," Llewellyn said, his voice catching in his throat. "Not you. Not after Elodie. Not you both."

"You won't," I said faintly, my words crumbling into the silence. I gave him a reassuring smile that was so sadly deceiving, giving his shoulder a squeeze. He still looked badly shaken as his elder brother took a glass and filled with one of his oldest vintages.

"Get drunk. And make love. That is an order," Tristan said sternly, handing him the glass.

"Yes, your Grace," Llewellyn took the alcohol, managing a smile for our sake.

And when he, too, walked away... it tore at my heart. The stakes were too high this time. This wasn't just some fight that I could toss and walk away from. No, our lives depended on it this time. All our lives. Our families. Our friends. Our people. It felt as if I were being mocked by the heavens itself, mocked and taunted as if to show me what all I would be leaving behind.

Someone cleared a throat beside us, making us both look around.

"Can we speak to you for a minute?" Amphitrite whispered, her voice breaking into a sob. Eric waited beside her in light blue, his stormy gaze full of despair. I fought the urge to look away, to run off. I fought the urge to yell at her, to shout and scream. It took everything I had to control my emotions and let out my speech in a carefully practiced tone.

"Why?"

My sister twitched nervously, pulling at a stray thread of chiffon from her sleeve. She looked at me with tears in her sky blue eyes, her lip quivering. Tristan put a reassuring hand around mine as I rubbed my temples, feeling a headache begin to bloom at the very sight of her, at the very pessimism and betrayal rolling off her.

"I - I am sorry," she whispered, her voice shaken.

"If that's all you came to say, go. Save your apology for someone who cares," I said frigidly, turning away from her.

"Stop treating her like this," Eric said angrily. "She said she's sorry!"

"Is it?" I shot out, lashing like an angry viper. "Remind me how many times she treated me like this? You think I forget that easily, Eric LeVane?"

"She made a mistake. She's asking for forgiveness," my father butted in, joining us as he received a glare from Tristan. "Holding a grudge doesn't make you strong, Edwina. It only makes you bitter-"

"Some things are past forgiveness," I snarled. "And you both don't deserve it. Neither of you. Get out of my sight," my voice stung with bitterness.

"I won't move," Amphitrite said firmly, shaking my shoulders. I pulled off her hand from me, the very touch sending a wave of nausea over me.

"Then I will," I snapped at her, turning around on my heel and storming away.

"Edwina - please," Eric pleaded hoarsely, his voice worn from the begging. "Please. I am sorry. We both are."

"I told you before, and I'm telling you again. You don't earn my forgiveness in this life," I called out over my shoulder, trying to keep myself from shouting and creating a scene. Already, the altercation had attracted the sight of curious onlookers like Emeline and Cressida, who were watching me. Aidon pressed his lips in a line as I turned to Tristan. "Take me home."

He wordlessly put an arm around my waist and tugged me in the direction of the Mansion. I heard the rest follow, sighing deeply.

"Not there. Take me home, Tristan," I whispered.

He swept me off into the night kissed darkness.

• • • • •

HARTINGTON CASTLE, ALNWICK, STORMHOLT.

We stood there in the quiet, alone in the silent castle.

My heartache ate at me like a rotting tooth, a wolf eating away the emotions, leaving behind only scraps behind. Like a glowing coal, the hurt burnt and smoldered. He breathed beside me in the confines of what had been our room, our home. I had only to look at the face of the man I loved, and the gnawing pain returned.

A single candle slowly flickered to life as I looked right at the moon, at the silvery glow spilling over the veined marble and the soft sheets of silk piled on our bed. Thoughts swam in my head even as my gaze lovingly wandered over the chamber. To our knives and swords resting in a corner, to our books sitting on the table, to the glasses of champagne and the chessboard next to it, all from the last times we had been here. They seemed like memories of a different, distant past - a past that would be taken from us so cruelly.

I wondered how much of this room would still be standing by the end of tomorrow.

I wondered how much of us would still be standing by the end of tomorrow.

And I knew it - knew it deep down. This was going to be the last time, the last night we would ever be together.

"Tristan."

He pressed a soft finger to my lips, pulling me effortlessly into his arms as we tumbled into the cushions of rich velvet. I clutched at him, I wanted him, I wanted him close to me, I wanted him close to my body - I wanted his bones to press against mine, I wanted his heart to beat against mine.

I wondered how we would live if one of us died tomorrow.

"We're going to make it," I said quietly. "I don't care if we win or lose. But we make it out. Together."

We both knew that together did not mean alive.

We knew it, deep down in our bones. We both did. Death was coming for us, and there was no respite this time. It was the last time.

"Edwina," he said quietly, his eyes very blue and very unreadable. "I love you."

His fingers hummed a slow, passionate dance over my skin, tugging at a string here, pulling at a ribbon there. Desire, warm and heavy, pooled in the pit of my stomach, slowly flowing into my veins. I rolled on top of him as he undid the cufflinks and rolled up his sleeves, and my fingers busily worked at the buttons as I pulled off the shirt. I pressed my warm hands to his muscled, lean chest - feeling the powerful heart thrum under his immortal skin, its beat a lullaby to my ears.

"I love you. I will love you until I die, and I'll love you even after," I whispered. "Always. You will always have me. I will fight for you till the day I die, but I'd rather that be a long time from now."

"No," he breathed, his breath hitching, his voice so faint in the silence. "No goodbyes."

"Tristan-"

"-I have waited for you since centuries. Centuries, Edwina. And I want you to know that I would have waited for millennia, and I'd still consider myself lucky that we had this little time together. This time - it has been ours. No one can take it from us. The best thing that happened to me was meeting you - loving you."

"Please," I broke into a sob, holding tightly to him, shaking even as he wrapped his steady arms around me, rubbing my back in light circles. "Please... no."

"You gave me an infinity within our numbered days. And I am so, so thankful, Edwina. You..." he paused for a moment, gulping even as his eyes filled with tears. "You... you are... you are my entire world, woman. Your eyes are like the dying oceans and glowing sunsets and you are so beautiful that it takes my breath away. Your eyes... Edwina, the only thing I want is to take up next to you every morning and look at your beautiful eyes. And when you laugh, I could almost cry from the sheer beauty of it. And your smile... woman, your fucking smile literally makes my heart stop because that is the only thing that matters to me."

And looking there at him, his immortal, angelic face, his sad, miserable face - like a mighty emperor fallen from his throne - a tear finally leaked out of my eye and rolled down my cheek. A whimper broke out of my throat as I buried my head in his chest, feeling his hand stroke a slow melody through my hair.

"Play me a song," I said softly, my voice a low sob.

He picked me up in his loving arms, settling me beside his majestic piano. The gilded cover wore an air of quiet like a layer of ancient dust, as if it were a thing from another time, another life.

And when his long fingers touched the keys, tears rushed out of my eyes and hurried down my cheeks, tears that never stopped coming as he wrung such beautiful, divine music out of the instrument. He played for hours and hours, played music that touched the very confines of my ruined heart, my empty soul.

By the time he finished, the only sounds to be heard were our sobs.

There were so many more things I wanted to tell him. Things of misery and sorrow, things of sadness and grief, yet words had left both of us, so we sat there holding each other and weeping in the quiet night.

We made love to each other on the piano.

Every thrust, every kiss, every cry, all I could do was to memorize his beautiful face. His deep blue eyes, eyes that sparked with mischief and intelligence. His raven black, hair that I loved to run my fingers through. His strong, powerful body, the back wrecked still with the scar that his father gave him. He kissed my body, he kissed my skin, he kissed each and every inch of me, hands slipping like silk spilled over molten glass. We cried out in the night, cries of molten honey and lament, cries that hid so much pain and sorrow.

My eyes opened at three in the morning, to the silence of the night and the soft warmth of his arms that held me as he slept. He looked so much younger when he was asleep. Free of all the guilt and pain that haunted him like a living ghost.

This was going to be our last battle.

My throat closed up as I studied his sleeping face, my chest tightening to the point of pain that throbbed deep in my heart. I loved him so wildly, so deeply... I felt that all that love would crush me, consume me, burn me alive.

I loved him.

I loved him so much that I thought I would die. I would love him in this life, and the next, and the one after that - over galaxies and universes and infinite time. Our names belonged side by side in those withered, ancient books covered with dust. Fallen in death, yet together.

Until the very end.

And when he woke an hour later, we made desperate love again, dressing ourselves before the crack of dawn. There was only silence as I slipped on my armour, a deathly figure grim with polished steel.

We donned leather and steel of black and gold, a silent gesture to the funeral pyre we no doubt knew we would end up in. Belt upon belt of knives rested on his hip as he buckled two swords, strapping Aetherius across his back. I laced up my sturdy boots after polishing Hellfyre, gathering a fully stocked quiver of arrows to sling over my back. My hair came down to my waist in a ribbon of braided gold and crimson. My hand gripped the bow in one hand, the Flaming Spear in the other even as the skies above us rumbled and cracked, thunder summoning the clouds.

We looked at the armies gathering at the gates, ready to march out, all decked in strong, ringed gold and steel. The sounds of metal being sharpened rang in the quiet night air, drifting over to the quiet east where the sun would begin to rise in a few hours.

Endollon looked so different from up here. Alive, awake, glowing - preparing to lay down her arms as she journeyed to her funeral pyre.

We both knew it was the last time we would see her like this.

"We will have to wade through blood to win this war," I said softly, my breath misting in the air.

"This isn't going to be a war. It's going to be a massacre," Tristan gravely answered, as we both finally set off into the night.

• • • • •

Tristan calling Edwina little even when she's such a tall woman is my new aesthetic. It's a MOOD.

Did you notice Tredwina switching to black here? The Edwina I knew would have dressed in Tremayne gold and crimson. The Tristan I knew would have donned Valmont gold and blue. But that was them at the start, and now as we near the end... they have changed so much that it makes my heart break. They have switched it up. They're both just so helpless, so miserable... Valmont and Tremayne doesn't matter to them anymore. For them, those two aren't different but the very same. It's a far cry from what they used to be, and I hate it because war and pain has made such broken, miserable things of them.

It's just sad. But it has to happen. We all knew they were meant for disaster, and now here it is. Just be prepared because y'all know the next updates are catastrophic. At the moment I'm editing those chapters and detailing them a bit more and I seriously get so fucking emotional.

Act 7 begins next chapter, btw. The end is real. ACT SEVEN IS THE LAST ACT OF CROWN OF GLASS. So be prepared. We're nearly there. And get those tissues ready for next time!