The Shoulder You Cry On {Destrii Oneshot}

Zagreus has been selected for what is likely to result in his demise, and I did not leave him with any type of parting words. When given the opportunity to utter a single word of “goodbye”, I did not take it. We had been close in the years prior, often spending our moments of leisure in one another’s company. These years, as well as moments of leisure, are likely gone for him. As for me, I will never have my dear cousin to spend the time I have with again.

If I were able to turn back the clock of the universe and prevent the small scrap of paper bearing his name from leaving the glass ball that possessed it, I would. I’d have even replaced his potential loss of life with my own, not letting him face death, and instead allowing myself to. He did not deserve to be lost, the final kin of his family. If he were to die, there would be none to take his place. There would be no heir to the Moon family in the branch of his father.

Sure, there are plenty of us others in the family. Chantir, Tamsin and I are here for my father’s name. C’rizz, Ayfai and Bazima are there for their parental line. Compassion and Perfection are present for their family. Zagreus, however, was the only one that Charlotte and Lorenzo Moon had brought into the world. There was not another, and even had there been, he could not have been properly replaced.

Zagreus Moon is one of a kind. He doesn’t deserve to fight for his life. He doesn’t deserve to have to kill those he doesn’t want to. Surely it would break him, no matter how tough he appears to those outside his own mind. The young man thinks that nothing can harm him, from what I’ve seen. I know that’s not true, though. As one of the few people, if not the only one, who has ever witnessed tears tumbling down his soft-skinned face, I know that he isn’t immune.

He cried when he saw Cecilia Brontz fall.

I was at his side, and for some reason, he truly cared about the girl. He didn’t even know her, so perhaps it was her age, but he certainly didn’t want her to die. He wanted her to make her way home, back to her family. I’m uncertain as to if he is acquainted with the remainder of her family, but perhaps that’s what brought the tears. Regardless, those drops of salty tears formed in his eyes and in turn, fell from them.

When he returned to his own home that night, however, his tears had been cleared. No longer were there stains of sadness on his cheeks. His parents would never be made aware of the supposed weakness their son had shown. Then again, is sadness truly weakness? His parents seemed to believe such. Harsh swipes would be delivered to his face from Charlotte’s hand, and one could see the marks on occasion. The next day, it would be clear he was hurt. Luckily, that night, he didn’t receive punishment. His parents never knew he was mourning the girl he never knew.

As years carried on, however, and more tributes fell, his parents started to see his fear. When Jenoah Rasoio died, Zagreus’s fists clenched. Charlotte surely saw this, as that night, when I had left, I knew he’d been hit, for I saw it on his now raw skin the next day, looking as if he were close to bleeding from the punishment. What right did one have to punish their child for anger? What right did one have to punish their child for sadness? None. They had no right whatsoever to punish their child for emotions, in my opinion. Perhaps my opinion didn’t mean much to others, but when the one person I have any sort of kindness in my heart is threatened to be harmed, my rage emerges.

After the reaping where Zagreus’s name was called, I was in too much of a rage to visit him. That was my excuse, but I don’t feel at this point as if it were a sufficient enough one. I should have at least said goodbye before I ran off to take out my anger. I had fled the realm of the reaping and made my way to an abandoned house that Zagreus had shown me one time. I kicked down the door, just as he had demonstrated before, and began to break anything I could in my anger, before collapsing on the floor in exhaustion. I was in a pile of broken glass and shards of other destroyed material, but I didn’t care. My chest heaved up and down with heavy breaths, and I closed my eyes.

Before I lost consciousness, I spoke to myself, reminding myself of the true terror that was going on, and why I was really here.

“Life may seem like a choice, but when it comes to the Games, it’s a wish.”