RTYY 065 – His Choice
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ZaiWin1Literally zai (blade) + win (chaos). brushed past him and took his time, looking around.

MenTar2Literally men (lake) + tar (wind) stood silently to one side, his expression grave for a change. And ZenTar3Literally zen (silent) + tar (wind) sighed, crossing the room to stand by the window, the black painted glass broken in sharp shards, allowing a bit of daylight and some fresh air to drift inside.

Snow swallowed dry, his hands shaking so much he couldn’t control them. Even though it hadn’t been that long, everything in there looked much older and tattered than he remembered. Sure, he hadn’t been able to recognize anything else in that house. But that bedroom, even though he’d spent his days in a drugged haze, that bedroom alone he would never be able to forget.

The mattress placed on the large bed was clearly uneven, the once white sheet covering it riddled with dark stains, its sight making it hard to breathe, cold droplets of sweat sliding down his back. The flowing red curtains that used to hang from the bed canopy were torn, some places even frayed. The red quilt abandoned on the floor was so dirty that it looked almost gray. And the chains, still tied to the four bed posts, had gone rusty, the leather cuffs hanging from their ends blackened. He had to touch his own wrists to make sure he was finally free of them, the sudden sensation of how tight they’d been, of how they’d bitten into his skin, tying him down and preventing him from turning, much less sit or stand, suddenly too real.

A heavy hand landed on his head making him flinch, his heart almost jumping out of his chest. But then MenTar was smiling at him and patting him gently, helping him relax a bit.

“It will be fine, don’t worry,” he whispered, winking mischievously. But the familiar sound of the chains rattling left the hair on the back of his head standing on edge.

Looking towards the bed again he saw that ZaiWin was inspecting them, his face a mask of barely contained anger, and Snow wished with all his might that he could simply run away.

He didn’t want any of them to know about that place, much less see it! Much less touch those dirty, horrible things. And although he couldn’t say why, out of all of them, he really didn’t want ZaiWin to see those things, to imagine him there, lying on that dirty bed, day after day, night after night.

The sound of feet climbing the stairs made them all turn back, Snow more startled than anything else.

“Calzai4Literally cal (bright) + zai (blade), or Blade of Light. It can be translated in common language as General, one of military leaders of the Empire. Each Province has it’s own Calzai.! We brought the woman. She’s waiting outside,” HawkEye informed from the door and Snow’s eyes widened in alarm.

Woman? What woman? What was he talking about?

“Bring her up,” came the dry order and HawkEye immediately turned around and went back downstairs.

It was more than he could bare. He couldn’t stay in that place another second! He had to get out of there!

Senselessly trying to make a run for it, he clashed head-first into MenTar’s chest, who had moved to stand in his way just in time to stop him. The hands that grabbed his shoulders didn’t allow him to go around him, and so he just stood there, shaking and gasping for air, his chest constricting, making him dizzy, the entire world spinning around him.

“Calzai, maybe I should take him outside first,” MenTar suggested in a soft, pitying voice, and Snow prayed that ZaiWin would agree and allow him to leave.

“Let go of him, MenTar!” ZaiWin practically growled, Snow’s entire body tensing up at the obvious threat imprinted on those few words, and the hands on his shoulders immediately disappeared. “What are you running away from, damn brat?” he barked next, and Snow jumped, holding his breath, the panic that had almost taken hold of him replaced by the cold fear that that voice invoked in him.

“Calzai, maybe this is just too much for him to bear. He is just a child, after all,” MenTar argued and ZaiWin’s anger immediately turned against him.

“You shut up! No one asked you for your opinion! And who are you to know what he can or cannot bear?”

“Stupid brat!” ZaiWin called, raising his voice, making him jump again, and Snow blinked, his heart beating so fast that he thought he would end up fainting. “You can run away all you want! I won’t stop you! If you really think you can’t take it then go! But the only way you’ll ever get rid of your fucking nightmares is by staying here and facing things as they are. To hear what that bitch has to say. Your choice!”

Snow’s eyes widened in disbelief. His choice? When was the last time he had had a choice? That he had been allowed to choose which step to take. He heard is younger self banging on a wooden door, his hands so cold that his skin had turned red, his fingers hurting, his feet buried in cold snow. That’s right. He had chosen to go to that place, to knock on that door. He had been just a small child back then. Since that moment he’d been completely robbed of his free will. It had been at least six, maybe seven years ago. And the woman that had stole it all from him was probably climbing the stairs right about now, he thought, hearing the wood creaking mixed with the sound of footsteps.

“Hurry up and decide!”

Rising his head Snow took a deep breath and clenched his fists tight to stop them from shaking. He had a choice! After all that time, he was finally responsible for his own path again. And the mere thought of that filled him with renewed courage.

“I’ll stay,” he declared, his voice sounding clearer and firmer than ever before, far from the insecure whisperers that marked his every word.

Stepping back from MenTar’s protection, he crossed the room to the other side, as far away from the door as possible, as if that could show them all he had no intention to go back on his word.

ZenTar was as surprised as MenTar, but when he took a peek at ZaiWin he found him smiling, all his foul mood gone from his face. Unlike them, ZaiWin had believed that the boy would stay, and he was clearly pleased with himself for having been right.

 

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