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She remembers the day she first saw him.
She remembers the tattered cloak adorning his ridged shoulders, and the faded glare that overtook his features.
She remembers her gaze following after him, taking in the contours of his back as he continued towards the cathedral.
She remembers the hushed chatter he shared with His Holiness, her hearing strained behind a hidden marbled corner.
She remembers following him for a time afterwards, ever so curious about him, his behavior, and his presence in little Fortuna.
She remembers turning a corner before suddenly being thrown against a brick wall, a towering, shadowed figure blocking her in.
She remembers his glare, so fiery and headstrong.
She remembers the blue hues that danced across his eyes, like the ocean or early night sky.
She remembers his firm frown, made from dare she say pouty lips, almost red, but tinted in pink.
She remembers not being scared, really. Shocked and anxious, but never scared.
She remembers his words. Fierce, intimidating, but nothing that granted her a lick of actual danger.
She remembers his questions, demanding to know why she follows, why she watches.
She remembers giving him an interesting answer.
“Because you looked sad.”
She remembers his eyes, his beautiful, otherworldly eyes, widening in shock before relaxing with intrigue.
She remembers almost the faint blush that blossomed across his cheeks before he cleared his throat and made to walk off, not another word slipping from him.
She remembers catching a piece of his tattered cloak and halting his steps, his body tense as he turned to face her.
She remembers quietly chuckling at his bewildered expression, obviously shocked by her actions. If she were being honest, she’d been just as shocked.
She remembers asking him where he’s staying, growing more curious by the second about this estranged man.
She remembers his annoyed huff before he, albeit gently, yanked his cloak away and continued off down the alley.
She remembers following him with a polite distance and even more polite smile.
She remembers the days that followed. The clacking of her heels behind the trudging of his boots, the wind billowing around his cloak and her hood.
She remembers his eye rolls every time she caught his eye, along with his huffed sighs whenever she’d take the chance to stand beside him instead of behind.
She remembers when those eye rolls slowly became more playful.
She remembers those heavy sighs turning into muffled laughter in response to her childish questions.
She remembers when they finally started to exist together.
She remembers that first night near the ruins, the ones that bordered a small beach cropping near the sea.
She remembers him finally taking off that ridiculous cloak, letting her see every bit of him.
She remembers holding that moment close to her heart, knowing this was some sort of test in him trusting her.
She remembers calling him beautiful, murmuring how his hair almost seemed to glimmer against the white slush of the waves.
She remembers the faint blush from all those days ago making another appearance, drawing her hand near to caress it within her palm.
She remembers his eyes tracking her every movement, a little scared she’d say, though she knew he would have denied it in that moment.
She remembers his eyes, lord his eyes, drifting closed as his face relaxed into her hand, her other also coming up to cradle his warmed cheeks within them.
She remembers them breathing together, existing together, in this little world above the sea.
She remembers the rest of that night and the nights after, spending time in their little pocket of the world, sharing stories, and tracing the stars with their fingers as they learned more about each other and the universe around them.
She remembers that first small kiss they had shared. Shy and quick as they had sat in the sand. She’ll never forget the small smile that followed as his hand caressed hers.
She remembers his changing behavior that followed the days to come. It wasn’t sudden, nor confusing to her, but it was concerning.
She remembers his frustration and ever-growing annoyance at being unable to find whatever it was he came here for.
She remembers his worries fluttering away every time she kissed him, lying side by side in the grass near the ruins. Hoping that whatever comfort she brought was enough to get him to stay.
She remembers that last night.
She remembers their shared gazes throughout the day. A little heated and playful, but always appropriate when surrounded by her peers and fellow church-goers.
She remembers his hands gently gliding along her waist later, after they had returned to their spot.
She remembers how gentle yet rough his fingers had felt as they had slowly revealed more of her, careful and kind as they traced her pebbling skin.
She remembers blushing, seeing his hungry gaze focused on only her, his ever brilliantly bright eyes, taking in everything she had to give.
She remembers frustratingly doing the same, tugging at his clothes, wanting, needing, to see him too.
She remembers being in awe at his physique, at his near-perfect skin.
She remembers being curious about the few scars she could see, but telling herself to ask later. Not now.
She remembers him cupping her face in his hands, caressing her cheeks as he leaned down to claim her.
She remembers feeling drunk on the pleasure, feeling the grass between her fingers as he’d ravaged her.
She remembers his flushed face as she’d given him everything just as good in return.
She remembers crying, moaning, whispering his name as if in prayer.
She remembers everything.
She remembers afterwards, as they lay together in the warmed grass, their limbs tangled as he’d combed his fingers through her hair.
She remembers him saying gentle words. Of thanks and gratitude, of showing him what it was like to be gentle and feel anything other than anger.
She remembers smiling into his chest, planting a kiss right on his heart, and falling into the night.
She remembers waking up and feeling the sun gleaming through the branches of the tree above.
She remembers sitting up and stretching out her limbs, looking around, only to find herself covered in a recognizably tattered cloak.
She remembers being alone.
She remembers feeling confused.
She remembers his soft words spoken last night, right into her hair.
She remembers feeling frantic then, her wide gaze twisting around, hoping to find even a glimpse of blue, but there was nothing.
She remembers being alone.
She remembers the tears that spilled down her cheeks.
She remembers crying until it felt like she couldn’t breathe anymore.
She remembers sitting there for a while in the grass, silent and unfeeling, that old tattered cloak the only thing covering her modesty.
She remembers getting up and getting dressed before making her way to their𑁋what was once their place.
She remembers sitting there for hours, watching the waves and tide go in and out.
She remembers the sky turning a dusty pink before the stars took their rightful place.
She remembers finally getting up, turning away from the ocean, the memories, and him.
She remembers going home.
She remembers surviving through the days and weeks after his departure. Her work at the cathedral and the library keeps her mind full and her body at work.
She remembers feeling strange one day following mass, her stomach seemingly doing somersaults after the normal evening brunch.
She remembers puking her guts up later that night, worried she may have eaten something awful.
She remembers her muscles straining and her back aching, and her inability to get a decent night’s sleep. And she wonders what is suddenly happening to her.
She remembers chatting with one of her long-time friends that same week, discussing her and her husband's newly built home and future plans for their life and their son.
She remembers commenting on children, and the wife being ecstatic to tell her first about their recently learned pregnancy.
She remembers feeling just as happy for her, congratulating them, and asking more about the baby.
She remembers the wife talking about morning sickness, her achingly sore muscles, and how it feels like she can never sleep properly.
She remembers the smile slowly fading from her face as the realization set in.
She remembers crying that same night, wondering and asking her lord why she was being plagued like this, why she was being punished to remember him after his betrayal.
She remembers crying herself to sleep, dreaming of blue eyes and pink lips and soft words.
She remembers waking up the next day and looking at herself in the mirror, turning this way and that to take in the slight pump that she hadn’t even noticed before.
She remembers sighing deeply, rubbing at the little bundle nestled within her, and promising that she would never make the same mistake that he had. That she would never leave.
She remembers trying to get through the next few months. Wearing bigger and looser dresses, the closer her due date got.
She remembers the stares, the murmured whispers being passed amongst her peers.
She remembers believing them for a short time. That maybe she didn’t deserve to live for what she had done, for what he had caused.
She remembers the little bundle within her, growing and kicking and learning her voice.
She remembers that she didn’t care what they said, that she would love this child and everything they grow to become, no matter what.
She remembers her friend and her husband and the never-ending kindness they provided her throughout her entire pregnancy.
She remembers helping her friend when their own baby had arrived, utterly in love with the red-headed little girl she’d helped bring into the world.
She remembers feeling scared. For herself and her own baby.
She remembers later that month, the pain that had ignited within her back and stomach.
She remembers screaming and crying as it never stopped, pulling on every muscle that she had to push and push and push.
She remembers the sudden touch of kind hands and gentle, guiding words.
She remembers the pain going on for so long, pushing her to the limit of her body and mind.
She remembers lying down, giving up, being done, crying out her sorrows, crying out for him.
She remembers her friend pulling her back up, supporting her back, and telling her she’s got this, begging her to keep going, needing her to push.
She remembers screaming that last little bit before all the pressure she’d felt for so many hours had suddenly left, and a sobbing bundle was placed in her arms.
She remembers being unable to see for a moment, her sight blurred, whether from tears or exhaustion.
She remembers seeing a lot of red, a near concerning amount, but a glimmer of familiar white caught her eye first.
She remembers seeing him for the very first time. So small and a little wrinkly, bundled all up in a blue blanket within the cradle of her shaking arms.
She remembers the happy tears that had flowed down her cheeks then as she’d gazed at him and his adorable little nose.
She remembers murmuring to him, telling him how handsome he’d grow up to be, how much he’d no doubt annoyingly look like his absent father.
She remembers caressing his pink little cheek as his eyes opened, as blue as the deep sea.
She remembers smiling, recalling all the memories she shared with the one man she wished were here.
She remembers feeling uncomfortable, a strange weakness overtaking her.
She remembers hearing alarmed shouts and helpless calls for assistance.
She remembers feeling all of the pain slowly fading and knowing she would break her promise.
She remembers whispering to her son, her beautiful, blue-eyed little boy, that she would always love him and watch over him.
She remembers her last words, said with so much love and care, before her world and her existence faded with the ocean tide.
“I love you, Nero.”
She remembers first arriving here, a vast whiteness of nothing that seemed like a prison, but she knows is not.
She remembers not much after that. Though she sees glimpses of what she believes to be her son, strong and pure and all grown up.
She remembers feeling proud and happy knowing he’s alright and living a good life.
She remembers all the chaos he dealt with, becoming stronger and fighting off more demons than she thought ever existed.
She remembers seeing the other silver-haired man and being taken aback at the uncanny resemblance.
She remembers wondering, weirdly hoping it was who she wanted it to be, but it was obvious he wasn’t.
She remembers seeing the strange black-haired man and asking herself why he seemed so familiar, only for her wondering to be answered shortly after.
She remembers seeing him, then, his hair still in that ridiculously slicked back hairstyle and his sword clutched in his hand.
Though𑁋he looked older now, his shoulders aged with something weathered and unkind.
She remembers feeling stuck, unsure of what or how to think, before everything was moving so fast.
She remembers seeing her son knocking some sense into the two older men, lecturing them about the importance of family and sticking together.
She remembers the small smirk stretching across his features. No doubt finding intrigue in that same fiery flare their son had adopted from her.
She remembers feeling upset that they left him behind, but she understands it was probably for the best.
She remembers watching them in the underworld, fighting and teasing and asking herself what the hell this was all for? Wasn’t her son more important?
She remembers watching them finally come to their idiotic senses after what could have been a month and make their way home.
She remembers Nero’s reaction to their return. Shocked and hurt, but so secretly relieved.
She remembers watching her supposed brother-in-law hug her boy, cradling his spiky head against his broad, red leather-coated shoulder as Nero complained about the stench. Lord, if only she could hug him herself.
She remembers watching him stand to the side, so unsure of himself and his stance, not knowing what to do or how to act. It really almost made her laugh.
She remembers watching Nero glance at him, his identical eyes tracking those of his father before detaching from his uncle and moving closer to place a thoughtful hand on his shoulder.
“It’s good to have you back. Both of you.”
She remembers their lives then. Catching glimpses of happy moments and sad ones.
She remembers feeling so much anguish when Nero was hurt emotionally. Always caused by his recently revealed father.
She remembers wanting to punch him, to yell at him for hurting their son, but she knows that wouldn’t help, and she knows that’s not what he needs.
She remembers wanting to feel anger at him and his actions, but she doesn’t think she has the heart anymore, seeing him just as sad as he was that first day they’d met, every time he upsets their boy.
She remembers seeing them together, father and son, and feeling a great relief. Her boys are sitting and talking it out. She never thought she’d see the day or even get the chance to.
She remembers the time they spent together after, a little awkward and unsure, but growing more familiar.
She remembers feeling so overwhelmingly happy, knowing they both found some sort of comfort in each other.
She remembers seeing him visit their son more often, almost weekly, making the trip to Fortuna just to see their boy and his ever-growing family.
She remembers seeing him sneak off from their son’s house one night, making his way to the one place she’d never found the courage to visit again in life.
She remembers watching him stand in the ruins, in their spot, and gaze at the shifting tides.
She remembers the deep breath he took, taking in the salt and sandy misted air that surrounded him.
She remembers how much she missed him, watching as he strode along the beach.
She remembers him finally sitting down on a large rock, not so far from the last place they’d existed together, sprawled along the grass.
She remembers watching him for a time, decidedly sitting beside him as the tears began to flow down his pale cheeks.
She remembers him silently sobbing, his torso shaking in the blackened blue coat that covered his frame.
She remembers sitting there with him, quietly comforting him even in spirit.
She remembers turning to him after a while, raising a hesitant hand to his still damp cheek, and caressing the skin there.
She remembers his sobs suddenly halting as he looked up, his wide, still gorgeous blue eyes wet and brows furrowed as he looked around.
She remembers the sudden realization in his features as his gaze found the ocean once more, and she remembers the soft words he spoke to her.
Only for her.
“I’ll never forget you.”
And she knew then that he remembered. That he would always remember.
The memories they made, the existence they shared, their love.
And her.