random sadfic

[madamemoiselle]

It was a thought that she'd had after showing Johan a memory, and she wasn't even sure if it would work. As the door to a private studio in Draupnir clicks closed behind her, she realizes that's not exactly it. She's confident that it will work like she's thinks, but what she's unsure of is if she wants it to.

She walks over to the piano in the room and takes a seat, taking in the silence other than the sounds of her breathing and her heart beating. It's quick, because she feels unexpectedly nervous. But she begins to play, a gentle and elegant song from a distant memory. Her voice was her gift, but her playing was hardly that of a novice.

The music draws out the power of Freyr, and Diva closes her eyes tightly, almost not wanting to see his moment, but the feeling of a comforting and steady hand on her shoulder makes her breath catch.

She can't look back, because she's afraid. She just keeps her eyes on the keys, playing this melody.

But when she feels the rough texture of a beard against her cheek, she can't stand it.

"Amshel—" she says his name desprately as she whips around wide-eyes, and she sees him. It makes her chest swell with emotion to see his proud and gently smiling face. Even if it's awkward, she doesn't care, and she wraps her arms tightly around his waist pulling him closer, so that she can feel that he's...

The music is gone, and the illusion fades. What had felt so solid a moment ago disappates, and off balance, Diva falls backward off the bench, hitting the floor hard. She knows, distantly, that it hurts, but the feeling is hard to access. Diva just lays there on the perfectly polished wooden floor, turning so that she's on her back, looking up at the beautifully gilded ceiling.

For the first time in her long life, and it has been long, Diva understands something that had been too abstract and distant for her to comprehend. Diva sets her arm over her eyes, laughing, because it's strange that she would suddenly understand it now in such a ridiculous scene.

Loss. And true loss, not the loss of her favorite dress or a human that she had fancied. Her Amshel, her first and favored Chevalier, was gone. The man that she had stood beside her whole life, who she had loved and trusted, who had done every awful thing imaginable to her and yet given her an illusion of love and trust that she could believe, was gone. She hadn't felt this helpless and alone in a long time, not since she was in the tower.

But she can only laugh like it's the funniest thing in the world despite that feeling, because Amshel had taught her well.

A perfect lady should never cry or show anything but pleasant emotions, after all.