You Know (Flash Fiction)

  Happy Friday! I'm in the process of moving so I'm really sorry I didn't post last week--I'll be posting the third part of Twin Switch tomorrow and, hopefully, a Madame Science teaser on Sunday to get back in the groove of things!

Today's flash fiction is inspired by a prompt from writing-prompt-s on tumblr! It reads:

You have succeeded in ending a huge war. However, you did it in such a violent way that your best friend now wants nothing to do with you.

I hope you enjoy!

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“Don’t say there wasn’t any other choice,” Reggie says. Their back is turned to you, shoulders rounded so that you can see just the smallest bit of their platinum hair. “Don’t—just don’t.”

The medal around your neck feels much heavier now than it did on stage, which is impressive. You’d thought it would drag you through the floor when the King first laid it around your neck. “I wasn’t going to.”

You actually were going to. The words have been beating against the back of your teeth since you first raised your hands to call the earth. Since the world heaved with your conviction. Since mountains rose and rose and rose. Since they crashed down on the army coming to meet yours at the gate. Since the screams.

God, you can still hear the screams.

“Medusa would kill you for this,” Reggie says. At last, they turn. Their red eyes are redder still from the tears pouring freely down their brown cheeks. Their hands clench at their sides, fingers twitching like they’re looking for a trigger. “She would have killed you for using your power like that.”

I wouldn’t have done it if she were alive. You choke back those words too. It’s not a good defense, admitting that that lack of consequence had freed you to do what you did. You’re not sure if there is a good defense. Or any defense at all. “You know I’m the only one who could end this war.”

It’s a prophecy. A damned prophecy that’s hung over your head your entire life. Reggie’d been right by you for the past ten years, training and preparing for what happened just hours ago. Reggie’d been the Chosen One as much as you most days.

Until, of course, you had to make the war end.

“Yeah,” Reggie says. Their voice is hoarse from crying and you can see blood on their chainmail. Like you, they haven’t changed since the battle. Their eyes seem to look through you. “And you know that ‘end’ can mean so many different things.”

You know. You tried to find those different meanings with Reggie and Medusa, you really did. You tried politics and negotiations and diversions. Not a single tactic lasted for long. Negotiations crumbled, politicians got assassinated, diversions only worked if the people involved wanted something besides a war.

You’ve grown up knowing that all anyone wants is war.

You should tell Reggie that. Maybe then Reggie would stop looking at you with so much pain and confusion in their lovely red eyes. Maybe then Reggie would put their arm around your shoulders and comfort you. Maybe then you could take a step towards them.

But the thing is that you don’t regret it. You don’t regret it and you can see in Reggie’s face that they do enough for the both of you.

“I chose,” you say, hardening your voice. You won’t pretend you didn’t. “I—do you want me to lie? To say that I didn’t mean to do it?” 

“It would help,” Reggie says tightly.

You can’t help but laugh at that. You’re momentarily taken aback by the sound of it—you’ve never heard yourself sound so bitter. “They’d still be dead. Even if I was out of control—I wasn’t—every single enemy would be dead.”

“People,” Reggie corrects. Their eyes burn and they talk half a step forward. “Not enemies. Those people died screaming because you dropped mountains on them, Jule.” A fine tremor runs across their shoulders. “Not all of them went quickly.”

You know. You growl, stalking to the table to your right. It’s not a retreat. Really. “They were going to beat down our barricade and start massacring the capitol. Our home would’ve been drenched in blood before we’d have had a chance to fight them off.”

“You don’t know that,” Reggie says. They shake their head. “The Prince was ready to negotiate with them. He was going to convince the King to sit down at a peace conference—”

“After another battle,” you interrupt, “right?” You don’t know when the anger in your chest started boiling, but it is. Why can’t they see? “Another town would have fallen first. Another hundred soldiers would have rotted away in understaffed infirmaries.” You unconsciously bare your teeth.  “Another Warrior Mage would have been hunted and torn apart by their hounds.”

Reggie’s eyes flutter shut at that, just for a moment. When they get the grief under control, they open them, lips pursed. “Medusa knew the risks. She taught us the risks; she knew them better than anyone.”

You fucking know. It doesn’t mean you don’t see you her intestines in your dreams at night or the way they’d pecked out one of her eyes like they didn’t know how much life she had in them.

“I’m tired of there being risks,” you say. You deflate. “The war’s done, Reggie. Isn’t that what we wanted?”

The big muscle in Reggie’s jaw jumps. They know the answer to that, but you both know it’s not what they’re talking about. “I saw you, you know. I saw your face when you raised the earth. You meant it.”

You know. You know what they must have seen and your stomach turns. They saw you when you gave into the hate, the anger, the bloodthirst.

They know.

“I had to mean it,” you say, eyes skittering away from theirs. Your hand goes to the medal around your neck. Why is it so fucking heavy? “The earth wouldn’t have obeyed me if I didn’t mean it.”

“Yeah,” Reggie says, but it doesn’t sound like agreement. They scrub at their face. “Yeah.”

You wait for them to continue, but they don’t. They just stand there, fifteen feet from you, and look tired. You’re not used to them being silent. They’ve been a constant for the past decade, ready to offer support and humor when you needed it most. They’ve seen you at your weakest. They know you.

So why aren’t they talking?

“I didn’t like it,” you blurt out. Your hands go to your belt like they always do when you’re nervous. You force them back down to your sides. “I didn’t—they screamed, Reggie. I’m going to hear those screams for the rest of my life. I chose our people over them and it’s going to stay with me, that I did that. That I made that happen.” Their hand stills on their face. You’re practically shaking, waiting for them to do something. You repeat, “I didn’t like it.”

When Reggie finally looks at you, the expression on their face makes the breath freeze in your lungs. 

“I thought you said you’d never lie to me,” Reggie says. They look like they did when you found Medusa’s body and it makes pain shoot through your chest. They look defeated. “You—who even are you?”

“What?” Your breath wheezes out of you. Your heart is beating too fast. Your can’t think past the heartbreak in their eyes. “I didn’t—I didn’t lie to you. I’m still..still…” Me. You can’t bring yourself to say the word.

“You just did,” Reggie says. They step away from you, sliding so you’re on opposite sides of the room. They’re getting closer to the door. They laugh without humor. “You said you didn’t like it.” Their eyes are burning. “I saw you when you killed them.”

You know. You should stick to the lie, try to make them believe it, but you can’t. You don’t have the energy. “I had to end the war.”

“Yeah,” Reggie says. Again, it’s not agreement. It sounds a lot like goodbye. They reach for the door. “You ended a lot of things today.”

“I,” you start to say, but the door is already slamming on the word. Your chin drops to your chest. You stare at your medal. “I know.”

You don’t think you’re going to see Reggie again.