By FalconWing


They say that it is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all, but I know better.

I may not be able to summon the conviction or feeling necessary to make a debate of the issue, but I know it all the same. And that knowledge is circling around and around in my head, choking me with the images and memories that keep me company in consciousness and sleep, though I am barely capable of making the distinction anymore.

Sometimes people approach me, for one reason or another. Some do it out a sort of misguided sense of pity, as though there is anything that could help me. Instead, their sympathetic voices and soft eyes do nothing but remind me of what I've lost. Of what I never really had.

Easier to take are those who do it for a dare. It seems that I intimidate people with the air of despair and desolation that fills the air around me. They stare at me with an almost abject awe, unable to comprehend that which left me in this wretched state, and those brave enough to come near me like to think themselves bold and valiant.

One way or another, I pay them all the same degree of consideration – none.

I'm too busy losing myself in my past.


-head held high, sapphire eyes bright with joy and silver bells chiming in synch with my dancing hooves, I'm prancing my way eagerly to where I know you are, participating in a friendly archery contest with your brothers-


They say that it gets better… that the pain fades with time, but I know better.

It been years – nine years, to be exact – but the aching hole where my heart should be has not been filled. I'm still drowning in my own misery, unable to breathe through my agony… and I'm still not dead.

From the glimmers of conversation I've picked up, I have the vague knowledge that the reason for this is that I never really had the chance to Choose you. That our bond was never really formed at all.

But, if that's the case, then why does this still hurt so much?


-You're in sight now, and I'm having difficulty containing my excitement as I break into a gallop, tail flagged, and rush towards you. The echoing emotions – your emotions – that first started to invade my thoughts only this morning are threatening to overflow-


They say that death solves nothing, but I know better.

After all, there is a reason that the Companion always dies with the Herald and the Herald with the Companion. Once the bond is formed, life without the other is such that it is no life at all and so the mere act of dying by the one makes the forthcoming death of the other inevitable.

Something shapeless, indistinct, in the back of my head tells me that I've had first hand experience with the whole following-your-other-half-into-a-satisfying-death enterprise, in a past life or some such. Or maybe it's the insanity speaking again. I don't know. Someone once told me that knowing that you don't know something is half the journey to becoming wise. I know that I should know more than I do. Or maybe it's more a matter of remembering.

No matter. What good is there in knowing or remembering when I can't utilize the former and the latter is the reason I'm a suicidal Companion who's more than a few books short of a library?

I snort sardonically at my black humor, though I don't find it funny… though I can no longer remember what I'm snorting at.

Rather, I'm back brooding over the laws of a Herald and Companion's life and death. My mind is completely disorientated, but I've thought this over so many times that it matters not a whit. I'm back to repeating over and over like a mantra in my head, my absolute conviction, absolute certainty that when the Herald dies, so does the Companion.

But no matter how much I want this to be true – how much I need this to be true – it can't be, can it?


-a shout as someone sees me-


And where does that leave me?


-you turn and your eyes, a bright emerald green, meet mine-


Alive, that's where.


-you're running, half-stumbling across towards me, but you never lower your eyes from mine-


Alive and standing all alone in Companion's Field, dreaming of silver bells, archery contests and emerald eyes.


-I can feel your emotions now, all shock with a thread of hope and joy forming, as I come to a halt not far from you and your eyes lock into my own sapphire ones-


Alive, but you're not, and I'm standing here dreaming of something that will never be and wishing for a death that will never happen.


-:Hello Alexander. I am Charyl and I Ch-: But one of your brothers has forgotten about the strung bow he has in his hands and my sentence goes unfinished, the link I had only just been beginning to create flung brutally back at me as you collapse, suddenly lifeless, to the ground, leaving me staring past you at the horrified young boy holding an empty bow. The arrow is now imbedded between your shoulders-


They say a lot of things and expect me to believe, but I know better.


-head held high, sapphire eyes bright with joy and silver bells chiming in synch with my dancing hooves, I'm prancing my way eagerly to where I know you are, participating in a friendly archery contest with your brothers…-



Thanks for reading, guys. Just thought I'd have a wee break from Pirates of the Caribbean and write a something from this universe, something I haven't done for a while. I hope you enjoyed it. I also hope you understood what actually happened. It was clear… wasn't it?

It was also rather short but I thought that it contained all it really needed to contain. What did you think? Did it?

Please review now. Pretty please -and with sugar on top. Not only is this my one-year anniversary for registering on FF.N and for posting my first 'fic, I also want to know what you thought was good, bad or needed improving and if that doesn't inspire you to click the little purple button and leave even just a few words, then just do it for the sake of poor Charyl, wallowing in her own misery. In other words, this author is making a credible (I hope) attempt to take you on a guilt trip. :-) Lol.

Love y'all…