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(”Ares!”)
The cry, Henry’s cry, jolted Ares from his ever uneasy, ever restless sleep, his wings already half spread, ready to drop as soon as he located— (”Ares!”) The tension abandoned him. Henry was not here, Henry would never again be here, but his voice, his last word, still echoed in his mind. This was what he deserved, though, wasn't it? He had not been exiled, or executed, so instead he must live with Henry forever haunting him. He did not know if he would ever forget the sound of it. He did not know if he should want to, if he should deserve to. (”Ares!”)
He did want to. He longed to experience a silence uninterrupted by Henry’s last, desperate call for him. Sometimes, when Aurora and Luxa visited him, Henry would fall quiet for a moment, or sometimes two. Ares was grateful for these times. Aurora would hang beside him, and they would talk as if nothing was wrong, and it was like when they were pups, getting into trouble by way of careless fun. They could never quite dismiss the air of sorrow that hung around them, but they could pretend, for a while. Luxa sometimes brought an ointment that she would insist on applying to his ears, where he would claw and scratch and bleed just trying to get the sound to stop. (”Ares!”) Please, stop.
Aurora and Luxa were not there, though. They were away, because they could not spend all their time pitying him and his loneliness, and because he would not allow them to if they tried. That was alright, he told himself, despite the ache in his chest. (”Ares!”) Besides, it was Nerissa he missed the most. Nerissa, who was always kind to him, even when he did not deserve it, and who always chastised Henry for how he ordered Ares around. Nerissa, who he had not realized how much he missed until he found he could not bring himself to face her. Did she know, he wondered, (”Ares!”) that his decision was not only because of Henry’s agreement with the gnawers. Did she believe that he did not know of it? Did she hate him? Did he want to know? He would have to, eventually, he was sure. (”Ares!”) He thought, shamefully, he might be more worried that she, of all people, would be kind to him, still. He could not face her if she did not hate him. He could not look her in the eye, and feel the relief of seeing anything but hate. He did not deserve that.
Oh, but how he longed for her wisdom. Perhaps Luxa would not mind to ask for him—but could he bear knowing her answer? Perhaps an exception could be made for him—but no, not when it was by Gregor’s will alone that he remained here. There would be no exception for him, even if there might have been for another flier. (”Ares!”) Still, he wondered, if your bond is fated to die, by words etched in stone generations ago, are you expected to die alongside them? Had Henry always been fated to fall, even if his death had not been so clearly named? (”Ares!”) Would Nerissa even tell him, if she knew?
His heart ached. His wings wrapped tightly around himself. His eyes squeezed shut. He missed Henry. He hated to, but he did.
Henry, whose orders were always spoken with a hint of leeway, so you might try your luck at disobeying, on occasion. (”Ares!”) Henry, whose laugh came only ever at the expense of someone else. Henry, who chose him because he was rebellious, but never considered he might rebel against Henry himself. (”Ares!”) Henry, who had not trusted him enough to share his plan, but who still believed he would be caught, despite it all. (”Ares!”) Henry, who had betrayed them all. (”Ares!”) Henry, who had been betrayed. (”Ares!”)
How long would it be until Henry’s cry did not tear at him? (”Ares!”) How long would it be before he became used to it? (”Ares!”) Would it be before Gregor died? Would he ever experience peace in his mind again? (”Ares!”) Or would he hear another voice in Henry’s place? (”Ares!”)
Was it worse to live with two bonds he had let die, or to allow himself to die alongside this one? “Ares the Flier,” said Henry, said Gregor.
“Ares? Ares? Don't go, Ares, okay? Don't.”
“Ares?”