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“Calla. Why don’t you hate me?”
Calla’s heart aches at how empty Lapis’ voice sounds. She hadn’t asked exactly what happened during the fight with Princess Rosetta, what had triggered the rage, overwhelming in its power, that took over her. She is almost afraid to find out what could have made Lapis come to her now, like this, instead. “How could I hate you?” she murmurs, unsure of whether to approach the girl facing steadfastly away from her, or give her space. Either option doesn’t seem like enough.
“After what happened a thousand years ago,” Lapis says thickly, “how can you not hate me? I failed.” Lapis’ voice cracks. “I failed you.”
Calla stops. She’s asking for forgiveness. Master is asking for forgiveness. The very thought would feel blasphemous, if she didn’t see right in front of her the girl’s shoulders shaking with silent sobs.
“Lapis…you never failed me. Not back then, not now.” Calla embraces Lapis from behind, her arms easily encircling Lapis’ shoulders. Once upon a time, she would have given anything to feel Deitasterra’s full embrace, to worship her in body and heart, to lose herself in her perfection.
Now she feels like she’s holding Lapis together, trying with what little she has herself to keep the girl, her Master, from crumbling.
All these years, Calla felt herself broken, shattered alongside the one thing, the one being who mattered beyond anything else in her meager, mortal life. Anything she has done in the wake of that has been a desperate attempt to atone for her human frailty, for her blindness to Arverna’s eventual treachery. The loss of her eye was merely a physical manifestation of the weakness that failed her devotion to her Master. It mattered nothing compared to the failure of her mind and spirit.
And the proof of her failure was falling apart in her arms. Calla can do nothing but hold her tighter. Just one more failure, one more blindness, that she couldn’t see how even a goddess could feel pain and grief. It happened right in front of her, and inflamed a relentless need to avenge her Master and her Master’s honor from Arverna’s poison and lies. She witnessed it with her own eyes, yet somehow she still didn’t see, didn’t understand.
Does she understand now? Why Lapis, who both was and wasn’t her Master, was the one standing before her. Why, despite her own initial disbelief, that had been exactly her Master’s intention.
She knows that she is still blind, that she still doesn’t understand, beyond a bare glimmer of a feeling that threatens to rend her soul with grief. All her talent, her ability, her tireless efforts, are powerless in the face of this.
So she gives all she has left, simple as it is: her unconditional love.
The weeping girl in her arms finally turns around, clinging to her, embracing her as if she was the last solid ground in a world fallen apart. And maybe, in a way, she was. Why else would Lapis come to her for comfort, and not her friends as she has always done? Calla remembers what she had said once to Lapis, with a levity that belied how much she meant it, and cherished it: Master has always favored me. She remembers the smile that Lapis had given her in the midst of her earlier victory, a smile filled with such warmth and beauty, just for her. She remembers, from an age long past, a voice whose sound was composed of all the sources of melody in the world, but was heard by her ears alone.
There was something, despite all her flaws and human weakness, that only she could give. Back then, and even now. It’s bittersweet, her pride and sorrow in that.
As the last broken piece of a world that died a thousand years ago, Calla embraces Lapis, holds and bears witness to her pain and grief and doesn’t flinch or pull away.
Even as her heart breaks for the one she loves with her whole being, she feels a quiet, humble fulfillment in being the one to receive her tears.