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Remorse
Remorse
By: MichelleTeomes [More of my stuff]   (2010/12/27 23:37)
Hits: 604  Comments: 0



More about this item
A/N:  Oh man, I wrote this all in one sitting, this is crazy! But I just wrote and wrote, and I can’t begin to tell you how much I loved writing this! This is based a few weeks after the end on The Darkthrop Prophecy. This may be the last Te’ijal/Galahad fanfic I write, so please enjoy it. I finally gave them the ended I wanted them to have. Enjoy

                                       Remorse
Te’ijal looked over at her husband in exasperation. Galahad was stretched out in the king-sized bed in their humble home in the quiet city of Sedona. He was sleeping soundlessly, mouth gaping open like a dying kitten, his dark blonde hair mussed up from sleep. Galahad never looked so innocent, or so vulnerable, as when he was sleeping. Without his always apparent armour adorning his lean figure, he looked just like any other human, with the sheets from his bed wrapped around his legs, not quite covering his bare chest. Galahad was practically asking to be staked, with his heart so carelessly exposed, though Te’ijal was sure the matter wasn’t of concern to him. No, Galahad would not care if he was killed.
She carefully planted herself on the end of his bed and looked over the sleeping man. Her returning vampire senses screamed at the sight of the delectable looking tracery of veins on his neck, his not-yet transformed blood singed to her, but she resisted, not wanting to taste the brilliant red of Galahads veins.
“But he is so tasty” she murmured to herself, but instantly regretted her vocal thoughts, as Galahad stirred in his sheets, and let out a low moan. Thankfully, he merely rolled onto his other side, and continued to sleep, dreamlessly, oblivious to the woman who gazed at him with fondness.
Galahad’s hair, usually worn in a tidy ponytail, was floating seductively around his face, she longed to push back those thick blonde bangs, and her fingers twitched towards his face. Somehow, she resisted the urge to touch him, knowing it would anger him further. He was already mad enough at her as it was.
Te’ijal sighed, and eyed the bed with contempt. Why Galahad felt the need to sleep in such a human place eluded her. As soon as she was a vampire again, she marched straight to the coffin dealership ran by a man who had once spited her. As a human, he refused to sell her a coffin on the grounds that she “did not look a day over 30, and would not need a coffin.” Foolishness! But when she told him she was once a vampire, and would not sleep anywhere else, he laughed in her face, and dismissed her. He learnt his lesson, Te’ijal thought grimly, remembering the taste of his salty blood on her lips as he cried for mercy. As it turns out, humans in their 30’s do need to worry about coffins.
Her new coffin had sat in this room, before Galahad had moved it in disgust.
“We may share the same house, demon woman, but we shall not share a room!” He had spat in her face as he dragged the coffin to the far side of the house.
“But we had once shared more than a room dear husband” she attempted to flirt with him. Galahad however, would not buy it.
“Our marriage is revoked Te’ijal! I am not your husband. I am dead. The marriage contract is void. ‘Till death do us part’, how conveniently phrased!” These words stung more than any of the hate filled names Galahad had called her over the centuries. No matter what curse he would throw at her, she could endure it, because he belonged to her, and, Te’ijal had assumed, he would belong to her forever.
Looking at the peacefully sleeping man before her, Te’ijal felt a sting in her heart unfamiliar to her. It was not hate, that much she knew, it was too painful, too sad to be hatred. She questioningly frowned at nothing in particular. She had lived for almost a century and yet this throbbing in her heart was unknown to her. She sighed and released a breath of unneeded dry air. She would figure out the riddle eventually. She turned her full attention back on Galahad.
He was so innocent, so pure; she could see now why he hated being a vampire. Galahad was the noblest person she knew, not an inch of darkness ruled his heart, so to subject him to this life was.... My Goddess, Te’ijal thought in shock, to damn Galahad to eternal night was wrong. She did something wrong. She frowned in uneasiness, the knot in her heart tightened.
Everything about Galahad was light and good, from his wise blue eyes, to his fair hair. Galahad’s goodness was not only physical, it was inside him. A strong white light glowing from within. Galahad was just and kind and selfless. He was everything she wanted to be.
“What am I thinking?” Te’ijal’s eyes grew wide, alarmed. She loved being a vampire, taking what she wanted without thinking of how it might affect others, confined to the darkest shadows of the night, her life stretched out endlessly in the eternal chase to quench her undying thirst.
“This is what I wanted” Te’ijal nodded her head, as though forcing the idea into her system.
“This is what I chose.”
She looked down once again at the man whose face had began to twitch, as though he was dreaming. Impossible. Vampires don’t dream.
Galahad turned his head to one side, presenting the two sets of bite marks that burdened his throat. The first set, neat and small, just two puncture marks, centuries old remnants of the time Galahad was first turned. Seeing these scars on Galahads neck raised the question as to whether or not she herself bore similar scars. She lifted a white hand to her neck and felt around for the two tiny puncture wounds. She found nothing. Of course, she was a full vampire. She would have healed almost immediately after her first hunt. Galahad had never hunted, he had never drank the blood of a human, and so his scars would be with him forever. The twist in Te’ijal’s stomach was physically painful; she retched as though about to throw up. What was happening to her?
The second set of Galahads scars were more recent, only a few weeks old. They were still red, and the swelling had only recently gone down. These scars were brutal; the skin of his throat had been torn and ripped, hacked into with her human teeth. The crescent scar too, would be on Galahad’s skin forever. Te’ijal felt a blood red tear spill down her cheek. What had she done to this man? It was not enough to destroy his life once, but she had to do it again? She had cursed him, he was now her maker.
Te’ijal knew how he loathed himself for being the one responsible for her being a vampire again, and as much as she assured him, that this was what she wanted, and she was the one that had bitten his neck, he would not listen. He blamed himself for taking away her life.
Love for the man washed over her face as she surveyed him in his sleep. He still cares.
She internally scalded him though, he should not feel guilty, I wanted this. She would have to straighten him out when he awoke.
Leaving the room, Te’ijal instinctually went into their kitchen, and began to hum tunelessly to herself as she began to cook omelettes, Galahad’s favourites. She smelled the air appreciatively, letting the thick stench flood through her senses indulgently. The moment of sweet appreciation was shattered by a sudden realization.
“What am I doing!?” She shrieked, throwing the frying pan across the room where it shattered against the hardwood wall. This should not smell appetising! She thought, wide eyed with fury. I am a VAMPIRE! For the love of the Goddess! I want BLOOD!
But no matter how hard she tried to resist, Te’ijal gave in to the temptation, and invited the warm, savoury smelling air back into her lungs.
“No!” She screamed.
“NO!” She bristled out of the room and ran to her coffin, where she grabbed her bow and leapt gracefully out of the window.
I shall hunt. She told herself, nodding again in encouragement. Sweet blood with drive that foul smelling, eggy delicacy from my mind.

................................................................................................................................................................

Galahad woke to the sound of Te’ijal’s cries, but after he removed himself from his too-soft bed, and pulled a thin white shirt over his head, he discovered the house was empty.
Good riddance. He thought disgruntled; he did not like being awoken in the middle of the night.
Galahad was trying to fight against his nature by sleeping during the night, and being active during the day, like a real human, this anti-nocturnal behaviour was also good for avoiding the woman he shared his house with, who had an opposite sleeping pattern. Galahad scratched his head lazily and stifled a yawn. He absently was on his way over to the living room to try to find something to occupy his time, when he noticed a familiar smell drifting towards him from the kitchen. Intrigued, he walked stealthily into the room; suspicious of what he had to keep telling himself was just his imagination. After all, why would someone be cooking omelettes in this house?
In the kitchen, he saw a smashed frying pan lying on the floor at his feet, splattered across the wall was a messy egg-smelling substance that Galahad eyed in astonishment.
Omelettes? Te’ijal was actually cooking omelettes?
Galahad frowned slightly, though smelling disappointingly unappealing, Galahad still looked at his previously favourite food with appreciation. The gesture was... nice, Galahad concluded. He looked around for the red headed woman to ask her why she would do such a thing, only to remember she wasn’t there.
Galahad turned back to the shattered frying pan and froze. Why was the frying pan broken? Frenzy overtook his mental state as he ran towards the oven and stared down at it illogically. Te’ijal must have been here, he argued with himself mentally, and somehow the frying pan ended up over there. Galahad knitted his eyebrows together in concentration, and then, he remembered.
Screaming! He was awakened to the sounds of Te’ijal screaming! Galahad’s eyes widened in horror and his mouth dropped in surprise... The villagers! He thought wildly, they must have realised what they were, and came after her! Galahad glanced around the room hastily, and ran to his bedroom to collect his sword.
‘I knew we shouldn’t have come back here!’ Galahad screamed at himself
‘Te’ijal wanted to go back to Ghe’dare, but nooo! I wanted to play human and now look what happened! They have.... her.’
Galahad, not even pausing to put on his armour, sprinted to the door. Te’ijal, he thought bleakly, if he was too late.... No. He would not even consider the thought. He would save her, or else...
Galahad quickened his strides and reached the door, he swung it open with such force the window pane smashed on impact, he glanced around with rapid speed, only to be struck still upon meeting the wide red eyes of the woman in front of him.

................................................................................................................................................................

“Te’ijal!” Galahad cried, relief saturating his voice, and then he did the one thing she was not expecting. Galahad threw himself at her, engulfing her in his arms in a lung crushing embrace.
“Don’t scare me like that again!”
Te’ijal stood motionless, frozen in confusion. Galahad let her go and took a step back; he eyed her suspiciously with his deep blue eyes.
“Te’ijal... where were you?”
“I...” Te’ijal began, and was surprised to hear her voice falter. She was still shaken from that abrupt hug.
“I couldn’t do it... I tried, but I.. I... I just couldn’t do it.” She whispered, staring off into the distance.
“What? What are you talking about? What happened in the kitchen?” Galahad was shaking her now; his hands had a firm grip on her forearms, and were squeezing her so tightly it would break less resilient bones. Te’ijal didn’t appear to notice, she continued to stare into the horizon, voice soft and awe-struck.
“I was cooking omelettes... I don’t know why... but, I knew you liked them...”
She gulped in a breath of air, and turned to face Galahad with questioning eyes.
“They smelled good! Galahad! They smelled so good!”
Galahad had frozen in shock, his eyes searched her face, surprise reached his eyebrows, which shot into his hairline.
“I went hunting... I wanted to clear my head. But I couldn’t do it! I had the man by the throat, his veins so close to my fangs... his blood was mine for the taking! But I did not want it... I wanted eggs! I turned down blood because I wanted to eat foul eggs!” Te’ijal was weeping. Galahad had to support her arm to keep her from falling. He was speechless.
“You...”  He was afraid to ask.
“You didn’t kill anyone tonight?”
“No.” Te’ijal shuddered.
“I couldn’t. I looked into his eyes and I saw... you.”
Galahad captured her eyes and wordlessly begged her to continue.
“Earlier this evening, I was watching you sleep...” Te’ijal began sheepishly; she snuck a sneaky glance at Galahad’s face through her eyelashes. His expression hadn’t changed; it was frozen in calculation, as Galahad mentally processed everything he heard.
“And as I watched you, I felt something,” Te’ijal involuntarily raised a fist to her heart, and frowned.
“My heart hurt, and as I watched you I realised something.” She raised her face to his.
“I’m sorry Galahad.  I’ve never said it before, but I am so very sorry for what I did to you, so sorry, it hurts.”
“Remorse” Galahad whispered breathlessly. His face portrayed awe and surprise.
“I would never have believed it, but you can feel remorse!”
Te’ijal frowned at him.
“I don’t know what that means, but it is not pleasant. All I know is that, saying ‘sorry’ to you, made me feel better.”
Galahad tilted her head up with his finger and stared into her eyes.
“I forgive you”.
Te’ijal felt relief flood through her as her heart skipped a beat looking into Galahad’s eyes, so close to her face, she almost passed out. She felt so... human.
Galahad, hesitantly, almost as though he was still deciding whether or not he was doing the right thing, pressed his fingertips softly into her cheeks, and lowered his face to hers. Tenderly, he lightly brushed his lips along her jaw line, before finally capturing her lips in a sweet kiss.
Te’ijal was once again motionless in surprise, awed by Galahads affection. Her instincts took over, and she wrapped her arms around his neck.
The held each other with a new sense of astonishment. Galahad looked into Te’ijal eyes, the scarlet red already beginning to fade after only one night without blood.
“Forgive me.” Galahad whispered into her ear.
“For what?” She asked, surprised.
“For never giving you a chance.” He pressed his lips against hers again briefly, before throwing his head back and crying into the night air.
“She feels remorse!” He laughed childishly.
He smiled down at the woman encircled in her arms.
“I may be a vampire,” he said, brief sadness colouring his tones,
“But I am thankful for one thing,
“I may be eternally damned, but if I can spend all of eternity with you, that may not be a bad thing”
Te’ijal blushed, scarlet flooding into her cheeks. Impossible. Vampires shouldn’t blush.
Galahad released her from his arms, but kept a tight hold of her hand.
“I’ve decided that we aren’t dead after all. “ Galahad smiled like a schoolboy, pulling the familiar gold band from his pocket, and replaced it back on his finger.
Te’ijal blushed again and squeezed his hand.
“I never took mine off.”

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