Blackheart
Athaal opened the door to where his brother was resting.
It had been three days since they arrived in Canterlot, three days since he became a father and Saif an uncle, although Saif didn’t know it yet. It had taken the medical knowledge of every doctor in this city to save Saif, but, after time battling the fever caused by the linac bite and blood loss, he was now doing better. Well enough for visits, at least.
Entering the dull, gray room, he expected to find his brother sleeping soundly in the bed. Instead he found him standing at the end of the bedpost, struggling to put on his clothing. The light that shone through the windows as it grew to night made the white bandages that covered most of his upper body glow slightly. Newly replaced, they were white as snow upon his brown fur. From the edge of the bed to where he was standing the floor was laced with needles and long tubes, which Athaal assumed had been used on him for his treatment. Saif barely moved his head as the hoof steps sounded loudly within the room.
Athaal approached carefully. Part of him wanted to leap over and embrace his brother, but another part of him was weary, wondering what caused Saif to get out of bed.
Saif put down his clothing, admitting defeat to putting them on, and only then turned his gaze to his brother. “How is Moxie?” he asked, voice tired and strained.
Stopping next to Saif, Athaal smiled as best he could. “She’s fine. The mark has not returned, and…” He placed a hoof upon the watanï’s shoulder. “She gave birth to a beautiful filly. I’ve become a father and you an uncle.”
Saif smiled slightly, but it quickly vanished. “That’s great… have you decided a name?”
“Azrha,” Athaal simply responded with pride.
“Blue… like her,” Saif answered, his voice strained to keep his emotions culled.
Athaal halted. Saif looked out in the air, his face a stoic mask, not revealing any emotions apart from what his voice betrayed. His eyes looked like hollow ghosts of what they used to be, a blank stare looking out at nothing, past everything that was there, glimmering slightly in the scarce light. Seeing that, Athaal now realized that Saif had been awake when Stella gave her report.
“Yes… like her,” he responded, at loss to what more he could say to mend whatever wound had opened within his brother.
Saif applied part of his armor and took the rest of the clothing over his back, then made way past Athaal. “My duty is fulfilled, Athaal,” he announced without bowing.
“What?!” Athaal exclaimed in surprise. “What do you mean?”
“You are no longer a Saddle-Arabian citizen; as a gray warden you have no right for a watanï,” Saif responded in a monotone voice.
He took hold of Saif’s shoulder, forcing him to turn away from the door. “But you’re my brother. I need your help!”
Saif returned his plea with another empty stare. “I can’t…” his face remained the stoic mask it always was; trained to hide his emotions, he stared like a stone. “I can’t protect one who I blame for the death of one I loved.”
Athaal’s heart skipped a beat and sent a painful sensation through him. While his limbs tingled, blood rushed to his head, the beat upon his eardrums unbearable. “We didn’t know it would happen,” he simply explained, deep regret burning in him.
“I know you didn’t. I don’t know what happened there, nor do I want to know what caused her to die.” Saif finally turned his gaze directly at him, his features still unmoving. Where others would wince as tears came unbidden to them, he remained motionless. His eyes filled up with moisture before it ran down his cheeks like rivers of pain. “But it hurts… just thinking about going back to your wife’s side, protecting her and the foal named after Trixie. It hurts more than I can describe, Athaal. It tears me from the inside.”
Athaal retracted his hoof. He wanted to say something, perhaps to soothe his brother’s pain, but he could think of nothing. He wanted to order him to stay, but he held no power over the watanï anymore. The candles that had guided him throughout the darkness that had been this journey had vanished one by one, leaving him in the dark alone. Saif had shone the brightest, and now he vanished as well, leaving Athaal with the light of Moxie and Azrha left, and only them.
“I need to find Kazim’s other apprentices and give them the news so that his spirit may finally rest.” Saif opened the door and stopped. “I will also find Trixie’s body…”
“You’ll die in your condition. You can barely stand without sweating!” Athaal tried to reason.
“I’ll do what I must to find her,” he answered and bowed, flinching slightly before he rose again and walked out.
Athaal would probably have run after his brother, forcing him to stay with all of his strength, but the sudden goodbye left him unable to take action, even if he knew what he wanted to do. “I don’t know if I can do it without you, Saif,” he finally squeaked, knowing full well there would be no answer, for his brother was gone without any promise to return.