Work Text:
"Lyssa!"
The voice echoed. Even the Crystal Spider froze, as the web vibrated with a name that had not been spoken in decades. Lyssa felt the weight of those years, every one. Her punishment stole her life, her heart, her beauty, dripping through the sands in the hourglass that never left her side.
"Lyssa!"
At first, the memories were slow, oozing into her, dripping with the rage that she'd felt all those years ago. The fury and despair she'd felt gave them clarity, sharp edges despite the passage of time. But the truth came with kitten feet, and reminded her of how wrong she'd been.
How very, very wrong.
The blood. So much blood. She'd never expected such a tiny body could produce so much. And yet, the power. It had filled her every pore, and she knew how the evil magicians could do the things they did. She had used it, too, despite herself.
She closed her eyes, but she could not close her mind. He had trusted her. Even after she'd slit his throat, he'd reached out to her with his tiny hands, wanting her comfort, her love. As the life bubbled from him, as his eyes glazed, he had stared at her with such innocence. The despair had overwhelmed her, but the fates would not let her die as she'd wanted. For that had been her heart's dearest cry-- but the blood was innocent, and she was no mage.
The powers that heard her heart demanded justice, as well.
"LYSSA."
Her name. A voice she'd never forget, never stop loving. Ynyr. How could he come here, after what she'd done? How could she face him?
How could she not?
Lyssa could not stop; her hands moved despite herself. She spoke as she turned the hourglass over, "I give you until these sands run out," she said, closing her eyes to forestall the tears that threatened.
By the time Ynyr arrived, she had composed and veiled herself. She would not suffer him to look upon her now. She would allow him the memory of her beauty-- no, she would demand it.
"Lyssa." He spoke softly, his voice husky with emotion.
"What are you doing here?" The words escaped before she could stop herself. She regretted it. If only she could have been kinder, if only her words could have been softer. And yet...
"Is that any way to greet your husband?"
"You left." The words ripped her throat, the emotion thick as sour milk and twice as bitter.
"I did my duty."
"Your duty was to your wife," she snarled. "To your unborn son!"
"Oh, Lyssa." He lowered himself to her level, his face soft with love. It hurt to see that, and she turned away. "I was young and foolish. Can you not forgive me?"
She gasped. "Forgive you? How can you stand to look at me, after what I did?"
"I would look upon your face," he said softly, reaching out for the veil that hid her age. She flinched away. "Let me see you."
It took her a moment to gather her courage. Could she let him see her? Her hands trembled, but she managed to pull the veil aside. She opened her eyes, looking up at him, and the love and compassion in his gaze undid her and remade her. Some deep wound healed, even as the years fell away.
She lifted a hand to her cheek, touching the smooth skin there with a gasp.
"I never stopped loving you," Ynyr said softly, and her heart shattered into starlight.