There was blood everywhere. Her blood. It coated the floor, the wall, the curtains, the window. So much blood pooling around her prone form.
Just like the first time they met.
A rival lord had beaten her until her bones cracked and splintered, piercing through her bruised flesh like serrated fangs through diseased gums. He had found her lying in the road, having fallen from her steed, a nightmare of discolored skin and misshapen features, blood steeped into her hair, just like now.
He found her and nursed her back to health, not knowing who she was or where she was from. It didn't matter then. When she first awoke, she refused to tell him her name. He was patient, though, and understanding, and she eventually told him: Melandele, it was, the Overlord's favored daughter.
But it didn't matter because he loved her, and she loved him. And she swore to give up the ways of villainy, to reform, to become a good person.
He gave her the name Melanie.
The first time they coupled was beyond magnificent, and they danced impeccably the language of love. He still remembered with alacrity the way she called his name ("Clarent! Oh, Clarent!") as they crossed the peak of blissful release. And it was just the first of many, many more, each a precious jewel of memory in his mind, a treasure trove of emotion and sensation.
The day she told him of her pregnancy shone brightly in that sea of gems, an emerald clearer than any nature could fashion. The day she consented to marry him, to become his wife, was colored the purest shade of amethyst, all the months afterwards tinged with optimistic rose.
And then the day their son was born, the first moment he beheld their child, touched him, cradled him, was a perfect diamond with fire of every hue.
They named the boy Thirilight ("We'll call him Thirry, for short."). "Bright ruler" it meant, a good, proud name, one he would grow into in the future. And grow he did! Inquisitive, intelligent, and talented with magic from an early age, always fascinated by the enchanted trinkets his father would fashion, it seemed there would be another fine enchanter in the line of Ardyer.
The day of Thirry's sixth birthday occupied a special pedestal in the ocean of jewels. He introduced the boy to The Sword of Baellyne ("It can talk, Daddy!"), and the blade accepted the name Thirry bestowed upon it ("I'm gonna call you Wordy because you like to talk."), acknowledging him as its future bearer.
The future seemed so bright then with Thirry destined to become a hero like his forefathers before him, another beacon of hope shining for the people. But all good things must come to an end, especially when they were never truly good to begin with.
Melanie ("My name is Melandele!") had lied when she promised to give up her villainous ways. She was more devious and conniving than ever, even plotting to turn their own son to the ways of evil. And he could not allow that.
He tried to confront her peaceably about it, tried to persuade her to truly join the path of righteousness, but she attacked him ("I should have killed you years ago."), and he was forced to defend himself. She fought hard and well, but in the end, he was victorious, the amulet he crafted for her useless against its creator. She lay there before him, defeated, like the first time they met, soaked in her own blood. This time, however, there would be no recovery ("I never lied about loving you.").
He killed her.
Thirry saw and ran away from his father, from his home; ran to his grandmother's, he supposed, since the Overlord arrived so swiftly to avenge his precious daughter's death. He had never thought that a man like Mehr Vynd could feel such human emotions as grief and loss. How very wrong he was.
Even the most evil of villains have hearts.
Before Vynd struck the final blow, before he joined Melandele ("I have always hated the name Melanie."), he made one final request: give The Sword and Melandele's amulet to Thirry.
The Overlord's nod was slight, barely there, but he knew the man would honor this dying request, not out of respect for the dead, but because they were both fathers, and this last entreaty was a final act of love for his son.
With this reassuring thought in mind, he closed his eyes and accepted his fate with a sad smile, hoping that, one day, Thirry would forgive him.
AN: A little bit of backstory for Thirry. :3 If it wasn't clear from the context, Melandele is pronounced Me-LAN-de-lee and rhymes with Melanie.