Format: Drabble
Genre:
Rating: General
Warnings: None
Characters: Pharazôn/Míriel
Pairings: None
Summary: Maybe if they had explained better...
"Do not go gentle into that good night...
Rage, rage against the dying of the light."
(Do not go gentle into that good night, Dylan Thomas)
They hid behind the curtain for she had not been allowed near (nor had he; plagues somehow take children faster), and, though his legs were going numb, he thought it small sacrifice to help her do her duty to her mother.
Suddenly, a sob broke through her silence, and he clamped his hand over her mouth, to help.
"Thanks, Pharazôn," Míriel whispered, when she finally could. "Father said death is a gift. I should be happy, shouldn't I?" but, of course, she wasn't, and he could find no words to make pretty of it.
Some gift it was!
~the end