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Ziggurat sat perched on a stone overlooking a lake, his jacket spread about behind him, his legs folded up to his chest and his chin on his knees. His arms were locked around his legs, holding them in place. The half-breed’s cream-colored eyes gazed down at the still surface of the lake, his composure surprisingly calm and rather far from violent for his normal behavior. Had anyone stumbled upon him at this state, they might not believe that it was the man that they were used to being around. No, he was contemplative. Quiet, stoic… It was almost an alien manner for him, but he had his reasons…
He could see her in him… He had her eyes, her hair… And though it was more masculine, he had a similar facial structure to hers. With a sigh, he laid back on the stone and let his arms lay where they fell, his gaze falling upon the sky. That was the color he remembered seeing in his head when she spoke, too, her Glamour affecting the mind, like his did. Even after all these years, he still remembered what she looked like. She was what humans and Fae alike could easily call breathtakingly beautiful. Her hair had always touched the floor, blacker than his own and softer than the finest silk woven by Faerie or mortal. Her touch had always been gentle; he remembered several times when she had lightly touched his face and he’d had to scratch at the spot because her touch was like a feather barely tickling his skin. And she had been tall, delicate, so ladylike that her manner both bewitched and frightened because few could tell if that was truly her nature or if it was all a ruse. The cream color of her eyes was so much softer than his but it was still enough for others to know.
But the last time he’d seen her had been before he’d even hit his late teens. It had also been quite horrible… Even now the sight burned in his mind, and it was the only thing that ever made him feel what humans described as sadness. Because of that, he had never loved. He never felt. She was the only woman he’d ever loved in the past and the only one he would ever love for the entire extent of his life, however long that may be. Even though he couldn’t remember her real name, that didn’t matter. The only thing he had ever needed to call her was… ‘Mother.’
He remembered his mother, how she loved him enough that she had given her own life to save him. He remembered crying over her body, holding her body and being soaked in her blood. It was the last time he had ever cried. He didn’t remember how the day had started, but his father had shown up completely out of the blue, dragging his mother—stoic and silent—out of the Bright Court, and he had followed, terrified for his mother. That was the first and only time he had ever met his father, but he knew that if he ever saw that demon again, he would kill him.
She had spoken to her son, that blue filling his mind and keeping him at a distance. Her beautiful smile had been enough to stop him in his tracks and make him smile as well, believing that everything was going to be okay. Compared to his father, his mother had looked so frail and breakable, and that was exactly what she had been proven to be. The demon called him a b*****d, a mistake, an unwanted inconvenience. And the whole time, his mother had just been looking at him the whole time, with that smile. Even the curl words rolling from his father’s mouth couldn’t penetrate the safety he felt with his mother smiling. She didn’t say a word, but he knew that she would never let him get hurt. Then his monster of a father made a demand, forcing her to choose between herself and her son. Naturally, she made the decision to save her son. But the demon had been tricky, and had not refined what he was asking. Releasing the Faerie woman, he advanced towards Ziggurat, claws bared and prepared to deliver the fatal blow. His mother, light on her feet and intelligent enough to realize what was happening, swiftly dodged between the pair, taking the hit that had been meant for her son.
Even now, recalling what he could of the events, the thought made him cringe. His mother, so beautiful and sweet and kind, slashed nearly in two at the hands of the man who had raped her and forced her to bear alone the burden of a monster for a son. Her blood had coated him, quickly covering the floors and soaking her dress—the dress had been amethyst in color, with white ravens embroidered up the sides by human hands… And when his father had disappeared, Ziggurat had collapsed to his knees, scared and suddenly so alone… He had clutched his dying mother to his chest, begging her not to leave him behind. All she had done was smile… Smile and tell him not to mourn her. But there was no blue when she had spoken. All the power of her voice had died away with her. He felt no comfort in her words; all he felt was the numbness of being a b*****d without anyone that cared about him.
When his mother’s body was cold, he felt the rage. He felt the anger, the hate, the fury. It built up inside of him until an unearthly roar ripped through his chest. The Fae of the Bright Court all fled the sound, knowing that it was demonic in nature and not even they were foolish enough to willingly mingle with anything that made that kind of sound. That had been the day that he had left, the day he had found the Unseelie Court. It was there that he became the violent being that others knew, and it was on that day that he had determined he would murder his father if they ever crossed paths again. Since his mother’s death, Ziggurat had felt neither fear, sorrow, kindness… nor love. He did not forget having them, but he had forgotten what they felt like. But with his mother gone, what use did he have for them? The only truly good thing in his life was gone forever. What was the point in trying to bring it back?