| Title: white Author: Ender Email: [email protected] Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. They belong to Jason Katims, WB, UPN, Melinda Metz and other people who aren�t me. Category: Other Author's Notes: Kare did this little challenge where we were supposed to write a fic from any fandom of our choosing, using a phrase from a "Pitch Black" fic she wrote: --Truth be not proud, but it is whiter than white. Pain is relative. But it is whiter still.-- This is the incredibly short little thing I came up with. Rating: PG-13. Feedback: Yes, please. Good, bad, constructive. It�s all welcome. --Truth be not proud, but it is whiter than white. -- My father used to tell me that when I would ask him questions that he didn't want to answer. Like why could we not make peace with our enemies? Why did we not invite them to our parties, our festivals, try to make friends with them? How could we be so sure that we were right and they were wrong? My mother would sigh and shake her head. My brother would smile his most condescending smile. I would clench my hands into fists and tremble with the need to scream. But before I could open my mouth I would catch the eyes of my intended, pleading with me to be quiet, be good, be obedient. It wasn't proper for a princess to ask such questions. So I would run out of the chamber and through endless halls until my vision swam red and grey with exhaustion. Truth's whiteness always eluded me. Until I fell in love. My love for him was so blindingly white. I thought that this must have been what my father had meant, although he was too blind himself to see it. Love for my enemy. Love would conquer wars, destroy hatred. This was my truth. White, pure, untouchable. Nothing could be whiter or brighter than this love. It was the whiteness of power that showed me my error. Energy washing over my family, my king, my queen. My intended. Life being stripped away. White ashes as they crumbled away into nothing. Wind blowing little pieces of them into my eyes, my mouth. It was then that I knew. Truth may be whiter than white. It looks solid. Unchangeable. Universal. Pain is relative. But it is whiter still. This is my truth. |