I may post something on my NaNo later, but I’ve written a short story for a contest on figment.com. I would love it if you all voted for me! You have to have an account, though, so keep that in mind.
Also, this could be considered slight fanfiction, if you squint. But it doesn’t mention any specifics, really, so I also put the general fiction tag on it.
He swore he would never hurt her. He couldn’t hurt her, not without hurting some small part of his own soul. But as he stood in front of her dormitory, he knew he’d made a mistake. Her tear-stained face told him that.
“Get out!” she hissed. “I don’t ever want to speak to you again!”
Before she could slam the door on him, he stuck his foot out and stood toe-to-toe with her. “Please, I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean to say it. Please forgive me,” he pleaded, grasping for her fingers. He had to make her understand, it was just an accident… “Please…”
She sneered, an expression that marred her features and made him wince. Didn’t he do just the same thing? “You call everyone else the same thing. Just go away. I don’t want to see you.” With that, she shoved him backwards and slammed the door shut on his nose.
“Wait! Please, no!” He pounded on the door. She couldn’t go away! Not when he had to make her see–make her understand… “Please! Let me explain!”
He spent the night outside the dormitory. She never came out, not once, and when her entourage appeared, they sent him down for breakfast with bruises on his head and slashes in his sleeves. His friends–could they even be called that, compared to her?–comforted him, not knowing what was wrong but still vying for his loyalty.
He tried so many more times to earn her forgiveness. Flowers, fresh lilies, crushed underfoot. Letters, found burned the next morning. But when he heard Them talking outside the history classroom (“At least you’ll have a better shot with her now she hates him, right?”), he had to turn his back.
The next two years passed in a blur. His friends encouraged him to join their Master, so he did. The mark of allegiance branded him a slave, a constant pain that made him forget, forget everything he loved and hated. Forget her. He spat her name, hating it, wanting to erase all obsession with her, lest it be portrayed as weakness.
Then the blur of betrayal, and he knew he couldn’t earn her forgiveness, not ever, no matter how hard he tried, now that he wanted it again. Maybe he could partially atone for his sins, now piled higher than the mountains. He’d tortured, killed, slandered her name. Unforgivable, like the curses he loved and hated.
Her death, despite whispered promises.
The deserved anguish of his devotion. He tried to burn the Mark away, couldn’t bear it scarring his flesh, failing over and over.
Years later, he snarled at her son. He is arrogant, groveling in his new celebrity, just like his father. But he must protect the brat anyway. His vow. And the brat couldn’t say he never did anything for him.
And as he lies dying for her, for her son, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he’s finally paid for his transgressions.