David Dalglish - The Cost of Betrayal

He nodded, stood erect, and did his best to smile.

“Alright, let’s go to bed.”

Harruq slept with his back pressed against her stomach, her arms wrapped under his arms and around his chest. The steady feel of her breath against his neck calmed many of his thoughts. Sleep came, coupled with nightmares. When light flooded the room from an illusionary sun rising at dawn, his eyes were bloodshot and heavy.

“Morning, love,” Aurelia said, kissing his back. “You should go. Haern will be waiting for you.”

Without a word he stood, dressed in his armor, and left to spar.

T he baby wake you often?” Haern asked, seeing the red in the half-orc’s eyes.

“Nah. Just didn’t sleep well.” Harruq drew his blades. “Let’s get this over with.”

Instead of attacking, the assassin frowned. “This is hardly the competitive spirit I prefer. Is something amiss?”

“Nothing is amiss. I just need some damn sleep, now either swing a blade at me or let me go back to bed.”

The half-orc tensed, ready for a lunge, but instead Haern sheathed his swords.

“Get out of here.”

Harruq stepped out of his combat stance. “What?”

“You heard me. Get out of here. My training is a privilege. My apologies for your lack of sleep, but you and I have suffered far worse. It is your attitude that has soured.”

“Nothing’s wrong with my attitude.”

Haern crossed his arms. “You were a beacon of happiness yesterday. Do you fear being a father?”

“I don’t fear anything,” Harruq snarled. “Say stuff like that again, and you’ll find yourself fighting, and the cuts won’t be fake.”

Haern turned his back to the half-orc and walked back to the tower. Harruq watched him go, emotions swirling in his stomach, until he violently sheathed his blades and stormed off into the woods.

A urelia found him several hours later, sitting beside a stream that ran through the forest not too far from the tower. Unknown to Harruq, it was the same spot Qurrah and Tessanna had made love before Karnryk and his thugs had arrived. Sitting on a log, he stared at the moving stream, tossing in stone after stone.

“What is wrong?” Aurelia asked as she neared. “Haern told me about this morning.”

“I don’t deserve her,” he said.

“And you don’t deserve me either, but you have both.”

Harruq glanced back at her, chuckled, and then threw another stone.

“Cute. But you’re right. I don’t. I’ve done… Aurry, she’s just a child. A helpless child.” He dropped a handful of rocks and ran his fingers through his hair. “Just helpless,” he mumbled.

“Harruq, I don’t understand. Please, tell me what’s wrong. You’re my husband. Nothing you have done will change how I feel about you.”

“I’m sure you think that,” he said. “You might even believe it. But you’re wrong.”

Aurelia knelt in front of him, her eyes strong as iron. She put her hands on his face and forced him to look at her.

“Don’t do this tortured-hero nonsense. And don’t you dare assume you know how I feel about you. I love you, unquestioningly and unconditionally. You cheapen us both when you spew such filth. Now tell me what damns you, so we may be damned together.”

“I killed the children!” he screamed, lunging to his feet. Aurelia flinched at his words, but did not falter her gaze.

“What children?” she asked.

“Woodhaven, Aurry! I’m the Forest Butcher. I killed them, all for Qurrah. Every single one, it was me. That is who you married. That is who you want raising that precious child. I won’t raise her. I can’t. There’s too much blood.”

The silence that followed seemed to confirm Harruq’s worst fear. Pain washed over her face, and for a long while, she struggled to speak. Harruq tore from her grasp and started walking deeper into the forest.

“How dare you,” she said, the shaking emotion in that quiet voice deeper and stronger than any raging river. “How dare you.” He turned to her, his eyes pained and his face frozen. She crossed the distance between them and slapped him across the face. When she spoke again, the sheer will in her eyes kept him from looking away.

“That child, that life that lives in our room, is from our love, Harruq. It is our doing. It is our creation. How dare you try to abandon it because of your pain? Because of your sins. How dare you try to abandon me?”

“Aurry…”

“No,” she said, nearly screaming the word. “There are no excuses, Harruq, no reasons. Condemned or not for what you did, I would never abandon you for your past, nor for mine. How would I explain why no father was there for her first steps? What would I tell her when she asks who you were? What would I tell her when she asks me if her father loved her?”

“Tell her he loved her with all his heart,” Harruq said, tears filling his eyes. “Tell her that’s why he left.”

“Never,” Aurelia said, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing the side of her face against his. “That is why you stay. I will not do this without you, Harruq. I won’t.”

He tried to stay angry. He tried to convince himself he was doing the right thing. He tried, how he tried, but against Aurelia’s tears he felt rolling down his neck, he was powerless. The guilt of his sins crushed him, and every face he had murdered rushed through his mind.

“I’m sorry,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. “I’m so sorry. I should have told you.”

“It’s alright,” Aurelia said back. “I’ve always known. I just never wanted to believe.”

To this, he said nothing, only sniffing as he felt his own tears streak down his face. As they embraced, Aurelia spoke.

“Never again, Harruq. Please, swear it to me. We will kill. It is the nature of those with skills as ours. But never children. Swear it.”

“I swear it,” he said. “I can bear the guilt no more.”

She kissed his lips. “Then let it be gone forever. Come. Your daughter is waiting.”

Hand in hand, husband and wife, they walked back to the Eschaton tower.

I t was two months before Qurrah saw his niece. Harruq greeted him warmly, and proudly led him up the stairs to where his daughter slept.

“What name did you give her?” Qurrah asked as he neared her crib.

“Aullienna,” Harruq answered, leaning against an ivy-covered wall.

“Aullienna?” his brother said, rolling the word over his tongue. “An elvish name. Do you hold no care for our heritage?”

“We have no heritage,” he said. “I like the name, and so does Aurry. That’s all that matters.”

Qurrah stooped before the crib and peered down. Aullienna was napping, sucking on her thumb as she did. She was dressed in clothes given to her by Delysia: a plain white dress that hung over her diaper-cloth. Trailing down the crib was the ribbon given to her by Haern. Qurrah looked at this foreign creature, unsure of how to feel.

“She looks elvish,” he said. “And you give her an elvish name. Do you wish to hide the blood that flows within her?”

“We’re hiding nothing,” Harruq said, his tone hardening. “You of all people should know that.”

“Do I?” he asked, turning his back to the child. “The orcish blood in your veins gives you strength. It helped you survive the streets of Veldaren. Would you wish it gone?”

“Never,” Harruq said.

Their gazes met in silence, broken moments later by Qurrah’s voice.

“She is beautiful,” he said, not looking at her when he said it. He climbed down the stairs, not having once touched her. “Though I fear for her fostering. A wild elf and a burly half-orc are far from normal parents.”

“We’ll be doing what we can,” Harruq said, fidgeting as he followed Qurrah. “I was hoping you would be around more often. Help us raise her.”