Birds Of War

Chapter Eighteen: It's Been a Long, Long Time

"Nil please." 

I roll over to the other side of the bed, facing away from the man who seems it is his responsibility to wretch me from the bed. "No" I deny. 

"Just get out of bed for a while, eat some lunch. I brought your favorite tea. Please dear?" 

"I'm really fine." 

Patrik shakes his head, "I really know what you are feeling like Nil. Like the bed is the only good thing in your life right now. That you need the bed to function." I have an idea that Patrik is not completely only talking about a bed. He quit drinking a month ago now. 

That's when it dawns on me. He's grieving too and yet despite that, he doesn't drink anymore. Patrik has gone through so much agony in the past weeks yet has not fallen into temptation. If he can be resilient and maintain composure, why can't I? 

I turn back around, watching Patrik shake a pack of cigarettes in his hand. "I'll give you the pack if you have lunch with me." 

I pretend to think about it, knowing that the rumbling of my stomach is a far more influencing than the pack. "Alright, but I don't appreciate the bribery." I climb out of the bed and sit at the table with him. 

It's a nice day, the rain has lessened and the sun occasionally peeks through. The room is chilly but long sleeves and a small fire in the hearth keeping us warm. 

We eat in silence, Patrik staring at me and me pretending I don't know he's staring at me and looking out the window. Once I finish, with two cups of saffron tea and one sandwich, I make my way over to my comforting window seat. 

"The crows haven't been around" I point out. 

Patrik walks over, holding the pack of cigs and lighter in one hand. He hops up on the window sill facing opposite of me. "The rain normally scares the wildlife away for the season." He then takes a cigarette out of the box and passes it to me, then gives himself one too. 

He lights it for me, reaching over, cigarette hanging from my mouth as our eyes connect. He's always loved lighting my cigarettes for me, even back in school. We used to sit in an abandoned old hallway, filled with suits of armor and trophies no one cared about. In this desolate place, up on a window sill and below spider webs, we would smoke. We talked about insignificant moment and inconsequential things, acting like love struck teenagers who weren't on the other side of battlefields. 

"How are you feeling?" Patrik asks me, eyes scanning my face. 

I sigh, "you first." Patrik raises his eyebrows in surprise. "It's only fair, I talk about my feelings and you talk about yours." 

"I suppose" he takes a deep breath, followed by another one with the cigarette in-between his lips. "I just...I feel so angry. Like sometimes I could just scream for the rest of eternity. That type of angry." He exhales. "At so many things. At myself mostly, which is the worst type of anger because you have no one else to blame but yourself. I'm so angry that I didn't listen to you that day I saw Iwan kiss you. I should've taught him a lesson but instead I hurt you. Then I'm so angry for not turning back around, right after I left your dorm. Even if you had cheated on me, the right thing to do would have been to help you escape to Scalae." 

"You are being too hard on yourself. You were heartbroken." The truth that I broke Patrik's heart, albeit unintentionally dawned on me a few days ago. 

"It doesn't take away the great disservice I did to you." Patrik pauses, "I'm a little angry at you too." 

I stop mid huff on my cigarette, "How exactly so?" 

"I can't get the image of the horrors Imperious committed out of my head." Patrik sighs, "It's not the only thing that haunts me at night but it's a common occurrence."

I can feel the tears welling in my eyes, I suppose they finally came back to greet me like an old friend. "I...I am sorry for what I've done. Even though it pains me to say it." 

"How can it pain you?" Patrik asks, a look for bewilderment on his face. 

I give him a sad smile, "you don't understand. You are the righteousness nonetheless." I look out the window searching for a crow. "I...I don't know to explain it. Other than the fact that I have been raised a certain way. I was raised to be a cruel, self interested, malicious, and prejudice. That was truly all I knew. My mother was the only thing that kept me light and while I tried to heed her last words, the external pressure of the castle made me crumble. I became what my father wanted, a useful pawn that he could keep in his pocket for the time being. I was like this, sour and conceited, until I met you. That's the issue, you see. I have this identity. My birthright. My actions are what I born to do so repenting seems like tempting fate. I am imperious. I am wicked. But it's all out the window with you. My values shatter like glass whenever I'm with you."

Patrik frowns deeply in thought as I take another deep inhale of the tobacco. He finally speaks, "I cannot mourn the loss of an identity that is toxic and imperious. One that is killing you. I do not see why you losing this part of yourself is worth the tears. Why it makes scared to be on the right side." His honest is both vexing and liberating. 

"You see, you led me astray, to the good path mind you, but...I'm still fearful." 

"Of what?" 

"That I am a pawn to your game." 

Patrik scoffs, clearly insulted that I think so low of him. But I can't help it, I am a Winston after all. We self-preserve and think that everyone is selfish because we are. 

"All my life, men have told me what to say and think. Father, his men, Henry, and yes, even you. I know that I am a pawn in their games so I am fearful that I could be in yours too." I exhale the smoke, blowing in-between our laps. 

I continue, "So, I can't be free till all of you are dead."