We rode to the coast at a calm and steady pace. You knew we were coming, there was no need to hurry. Plus, I wanted you to feel the pressure, I wanted you to scramble in preparation, while I had been laced head to toe with anticipation for years. When we crested that hill, I knew it was well worth the wait. There you were, standing but a few feet ahead of your men, galvanizing them to chant something in a language I didn’t understand. 

I’d heard you’d risen to become chieftess after the plague took your brother, but oh my Thalia, how magnificently you fit the role. Your hair had grown longer, and hung from the lip of your helm like a dark curtain. You’d grown taller, though you’d remained slim and agile. You wore a chest plate, painted midnight black across your breast. Though I couldn’t see your face behind the helmet, I could very well imagine your expression. Those cold blue eyes flashing as you rallied your men into a frenzy. 

You then spun, your sword tip flashing in the near dusk light as you pointed it in my direction. No, at me. A direct challenge, exactly what I was hoping for. I grinned beneath my crown. 

My glaive laid waste to anyone who dared step in front of me, and their bodies were turned to bloody pulp beneath my horse’s hooves. I couldn’t hear the clashing of steel, the crunch of bones, the cries of men, all I heard was the beat in my chest. A pulsing that seemed to envelop that hill, a pulsing that all men, all soldiers feel when in battle. It turned the whole world red, reflecting the sky as the sun met the mountains. 

Until finally, I met you. I looked on as you stood, shoulders hunched and chest heaving, waiting for your next opponent. I saw men, corpses, adorned in my colors strewn about your boots like slaughtered livestock. I dismounted, and you froze as I walked towards you. You recognized me, I could tell. At the very least you recognized the scar your brother had left on my cheek. 

“Long time no see, Princess,” you taunted nonchalantly. 

“Long time indeed, Thalia. Too long,” I answered, propping my glaive against my shoulder. I cared not for the battle raging around us. Not anymore. All I saw was you standing before me, readying your sword.

“Enough talk, Eleanor. We both know why you’re here. I say we cut to the chase.” I grinned at that. “I couldn’t agree more.”  

We rushed each other with the force of two opposing tidal waves, the clash of our blades echoing out like thunder. I’m sure you remember, Thalia, just how amazing it was. How amazing we were. Your blade fell to connect with my side, but the hilt of my glaive sent it springing away. I swung at your chest and was quickly deflected. It was in incorporeal dance. Though physical, our blades being extensions of our limbs and outward motion, it went far deeper than that. It was a war of souls, a war of blue and red, ice and fire, revenge and forgiveness. Our two beings pushing, pulling, twisting, blending into one. The world around us turned grey, while we raged in vibrant, explosive color. I know you felt it too, Thalia. 

But in truth, we were only human, and humans have their limits. Our blows, our movements, eventually grew tired. A nick to the forearm here, a turned ankle there. Slowly but surely, we tore each other apart, piece by piece. You swung, and before I could manage to parry, your sword cut deep into my shoulder. I let loose a guttural growl of pain and waning adrenaline, before thrusting my hand upwards. My gloved fist collided with your head and sent your helmet to the ground with a metallic clang. I couldn’t help my grin of satisfaction at the sight of your face, and the new expression plastered upon it. Rage did not suit you, Thalia, but it no doubt suited me. 

Gathering the last of my strength I forced my glaive to swing. Your arm fell, and your sword with it. You cried out in pain, pain that hurt me too, Thalia, I promise you, and collapsed onto your knees. Blood seeped between your fingers and across your breastplate as you held what remained of the appendage to you. You huffed and wheezed, dark hair falling across your face in a tangled heap. You were broken, Thalia, shattered like glass, and yet you forced your gaze to meet mine. 

Our eyes held each other. Corresponding colors and emotions and memories, blurring into one. We were one, and we were everything. The mere several feet that separated us held two full lives of experiences, friendships, betrayals. Our hearts beat in tandem, our blood flowed, both inside and out. I almost hesitated, Thalia, can you believe that? 

With the scratch of metal against metal, against flesh, against bone, my blade found its way through your chest. You didn’t move, didn’t blink, and your eyes remained open long after your life had left you. You stared up at the sky as it went red, and the sun finally disappeared. 

**

They never could quite get your eyes right, Thalia. It’s impossible with marble I suppose, to bring back a soul that’s long dead. You’re gone, but you left pieces of yourself within me. Portraits of afternoons in a hedge maze as naive, bashful children. Fragments of a life, a human being I still know so little about, and will never get to know more. Black feathers scattered and autumn leaves lost. How do you put that in stone? Do you know, my Thalia?