A Piece...

The two greatest loves of her life, no, she shook her head (or perhaps it was only a violent tremble) the only loves of her life had been, or the last was to be, stolen from her by the hands of those she lived to despise. Her sole purpose, it had begun to appear, was only to curse the name of those people whom at one point she had lived among. They so rudely tromped her heart, her life, until it resembled little more than a heap of ruin, ashes after a disastrous fire, a crumbled statue of a worshipped Deity at the gates of a city after the invasion of the enemy's soldiers, a ship torn apart by the heavy hands of storm and wave. Her soul was to become little more than a Warfield made barren by hoards of the fallen, stilled bodies left to fertilize the grass that was nevermore to grow; for spring would not return to this land. Eternal winter had settled upon its bleak terrain. Not even the elf whose arms held her to his side could see the ensuing emptiness that shone out through her icy eyes, for she cast them shamefully to the ground, aware that instead of such desolation hope should have been in her heart. What sort of mother held no hope for her only son? But what a lachrymose premonition she knew, what terrible events were sure to come; only she could conceive of these.
There was to be no pride in such a mission, mindless in its goals, empty in its promises. Only melancholy news brought to the doorstep of Grünland from some unknowing soul, some ignorant individual who would feign deep sadness but would only know pity for the elves, for none outside of Grünland could comprehend of Thaddeus' greatness.
Grey would turn her heart, black would flow her blood, into a void would morph her mind, for without this last piece of the man with whom her younger years were buried she'd surely fade into oblivion.