Chapter Text
400 years ago...
“Timothy, stop!” she giggled, bending down to avoid the flowery branch of the tree ahead as she ran barefoot on the cold tiles, her long dress showing the path for him to follow her. The garden was quiet, except for the birds chirping and the water flowing from the nearby fountain.
He chased after her, the metallic clinking of his armor breaking the tranquility of the scene ahead. She stopped a couple of steps in front of the fountain, tilting her head up to bask in the warmth of the sun. Her long, brown hair pushed to one side, showing the side of her neck, her silky skin inviting him for something he had no right to yearn for.
“Oh, I love this garden,” her happy tone made his cold heart stutter, the beauty of her frame captivating every fiber of his being.
Timothy’s steps faltered before coming to a stop, keeping a short distance between them, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword. He watched her with a hint of amusement as she swirled around, her dress flowing around perfectly, a sheepish grin overtaking her face. Their gazes met, her brown eyes boring into his, even through his helmet. His free hand reached up to take off the cover on his face, watching the way she gnawed on her lower lip when his face was finally free of any obstacles. The helmet hit the ground with a long clang, spooking a few birds from the bushes behind.
Taking a step closer, she tilted her head, not daring to break eye contact as his hand came up to the side of her neck, caressing the smooth skin and feeling her rapid pulse. Her breath hitched, teeth letting go of her lower lip as it gaped open slightly, the intensity of her stare washing over his body. Her pupils dilated and seconds ticked by, the hard pad of his fingers dancing on her skin, moving upward until he cupped her cheek.
“We shall not,” she whispered in warning, her voice coming out weak. He knew the feeling. They were too exposed to prying eyes. The garden was surrounded by high rose bushes and a few oak trees but even so, from the floors of the castle behind them, the view was clear to their spot. Anyone lurking on the stairs could see them. See the inappropriate distance between them. See her lustful eyes and loving expression. See his fingers free of armor touching her cheek in a way he was not allowed.
“I know,” Timothy hushed, his gaze dropping to her lips, his muscles tensing under the heavy weight of his armor. She held up her hand, touching the cold plate over his chest, wishing to feel his racing heart. Bracing herself up on her tiptoes, she edged closer and he watched her face, noting her plush parted lips and her long, black eyelashes. Feeling her captivating scent, he watched her eyelids flutter close, their foreheads almost touching, his heart hammering in his chest.
They shall not. He knew. She knew. They both knew the dangers of their meetings. She was betrothed, to be wedded in a moon’s pass to a man she had not met. A man she had not loved. A man he knew only by surname and title, King Sanford II. He had asked his loyal men, looking for information about the beast who was to take away his heart, only to be met with silence.
To his knowledge, by careful eavesdropping when he was called into the war room, he knew the alliance bound by marriage was to bring peace to the two kingdoms that had been raging a war for the past decades. He had fought in that war. He had lost good men in that war. And now, he was to lose the only soul that mattered to him in that war.
He felt her breath on his lips, clouding away his worrying thoughts as his hand left the hilt of his sword, resting his fingers in the dip of her waist, pulling her closer to lose the remaining distance between their frenzied lips.
The first gentle caress of her lips on him and he boxed away his jittery thoughts, letting the hunger control his motions. She was soft against him, warm. Her lips pressed into him, filling up the empty canister of his soul, her cheerful spirit making a mark on him. A low and desperate noise broke his throat, his fingers on her cheek encouraging her to tilt her head to the side a bit to deepen the kiss. She followed his lead, their mouths clashing together with more hunger than before, the severity of their secret, fueling the desire for each other.
She was everything.
Her taste was everything.
Something he would never forget but always long for.
Warmth spread through his veins, the feeling of her on him embracing his body in a blissful cocoon. Her scent filled his nostrils, feeding the fire bubbling in his insides. He wanted more of her, touch more of her, taste more of her.
But he couldn’t have her. He knew.
They came apart with a gasp, their foreheads touching, eyes closed, savoring the moments while they still had the option. After the nuptial, she was to be crowned Queen of a different kingdom, leaving her friends and family behind. Leaving him behind. While maids were allowed to be swapped, knights were to remain at the original post.
He was to lose her in mere weeks.
No. No.
He could not bear the thought of never seeing her hazelnut eyes again. Never seeing the magnificent smile play on her lips, reaching her eyes. Never seeing the fire in her gaze, the love devoted only to him.
It was too much. Even for a man like him.
“I love you, Sunshine,” he murmured in a hush tone, keeping his eyes closed, his thumb circling the cloth on her waist.
“I love you, Moonlight,” she whispered back, earning a low chuckle from him at the name.
“The Moon chases the Sun, never quite reaching, never quite letting her out of his sight, destined to be together in a loop of lifetimes,” she explained eagerly one night as the moon’s light illuminated their faces, their bodies hidden by the high bushes of the garden, “you are my Moonlight, Timothy, illuminating my heart in these dark days. You shall always be with me.”
“I shall go,” he didn’t move, didn’t dare to break the moment that could very well be their last. They tried to meet at any chance possible, but with the ongoing preparations for that day, the risk of anyone seeing them together became too harsh. The sight of them in such an intimate manner was a death sentence for both and yet, they could not keep away from each other.
His fingers traced the sole tear escaping her eye, his body aching to rescue her from this vengeful situation.
“Timothy, my father… he… betrothed me to a man from a faraway kingdom… The nuptial is two months away!” she collapsed in his arms, sobs wrecking her small figure, the pain in his chest closing the airway of his throat, “we shall run away,” she continued through the sobs but even as the words left her heartbroken form, they both knew they couldn’t. Running away from an alliance would mean escalation of the ongoing war. It would mean the deaths of thousands. Lost souls to rest on their shoulders. While he could face it, day by day, for her, her conscience would devour her alive.
Their time was running out.
He pressed his lips against hers at the thought, the motion making him dizzy. He had fought and led countless battles. He had taken the life of many in the line of duty, shedding blood and dropping corpses to keep their kingdom safe, to keep her safe. He had done those unimaginable acts without remorse, shutting down the idea of lost souls slipping through his fingers by the yield of his sword. He had done it all, he shall do it all, continue his duty with a straight heart but the thought of losing her…
For the first time since he was a child, he felt the burning threat of unshed tears, her lips, her warmth – her entirety – being the only sole grounding element to keep him upright in the moment. She was his anchor. He had to keep strong, for her. For their shattering hearts, he had to mend the pieces for she to live a happy life. Without him.
The bells rang high in the background, the warning of the end creeping closer. He had to go. They could not be discovered together.
Basking in the final moments of her gentle lips, he clenched his eyelids close for a second then broke apart, feeling her small fingers tightening their grip on him. She was not ready, just like him.
“Lucille…” he could hear her heart breaking at the same time as his, always in sync with his emotions. She clung to him harder, the seemingly tiny knuckles against his armor turning white.
“You cannot go, that is an order, Sir Timothy!”
“Lucille…” his voice warned, the thousand unknown threats surrounding them. They could be discovered at any moment and while he did not fear his own life, she could not be harmed. Not because of him. He pulled back completely, already missing the warmth of her body as he tucked a lock of her shiny hair behind her ear. Taking a deep breath, he gazed down at her, her tearful expression tugging at his heart. He had to be strong for her.
A horse neighed near the gates, indicating the arrival of the royal convoy, indicating the passage of their final moments.
“I shall see you soon, my Sunshine,” he stepped back, picking up his helmet from the ground and putting more distance between their blazing bodies.
“When?”
He didn’t reply. He couldn’t. He knew the answer would devastate her as much as it already devastated him.
“At the ceremony?” she continued, her voice shaking. Damn it and her smart mind. Then again, he had never been able to keep a secret from her.
He nodded, ready to turn away, when her hands gripped his wrist and he groaned mentally, knowing well enough he couldn’t stay but not knowing how to walk away completely. He stood, rendered in place as she appeared in his vision again, the passion on her face feeding into him.
“No! That is in a month!”
“I know but I have a duty to follow outside the walls.”
“What about our nightly strolls?”
“It is too dangerous; I cannot risk your life!”
“I don’t want to exist in a world without you, you cannot leave me like this,” she searched his eyes for a moment of remorse, for a moment of chance he couldn’t give to her. She deserved better than what he could offer her. As if sensing his defeat, she continued, her brows furrowing in frustration.
“Why shall you not fight for me? For us?” The passion in her eyes was replaced by fury, the injustice of the situation crashing all over him once again.
“Perhaps…” he swallowed, his throat suddenly feeling dry, “In another lifetime.”
“Don’t do this? Why are you doing this?” her chest heaved with the burning anger, the sight making his body tremble. He wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and give her the life she deserved. Not of an unhappy arranged marriage but of a story of love and passion. He couldn’t give that to her. He was just a knight and she was a Queen-to-be, betrothed to a King.
Placing a small kiss on the top of her forehead, inhaling the scent of her hair and skin for what he imagined to be the last time, letting her flowery scent fill his lungs, he stepped away, putting the shield on his head and pulling the visor down. With the royal convoy arriving, he had a mission to do. Protect the castle from intruders and bandits, and in turn, protect her.
Not daring to look back, lest he change his mind, he strolled away from the garden, leaving the singing birds behind.
Leaving the warmth of the sun behind.
Leaving his Sunshine behind.
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The days and weeks that followed were harder and harder to bear. With each passing night, his heart shattered more, the splinters poking him from the inside out. For weeks now he had barely slept, between keeping up his duty and nightmares of her leaving the castle and him behind.
It was always the same dream. The bastard of a King swooping her off her feet and dragging her away while he was locked behind a cage, forced to watch her being dragged away as he screamed her name.
And now, it was about to become a reality.
The ceremony was tomorrow night.
He was losing her for real in less than 24 hours. After the arrival of the royal convoy, the castle, the gardens and the surrounding areas were packed with knights and soldiers from the enemy kingdom. The trust of the alliance was not secured yet and hence, abiding by the orders of King Sanford II, their castle was full of those unknown people.
He had recognized a few of the men when he patrolled the walls of the castle. They were fine knights, each to their own but he couldn’t trust them to protect her. With that thought, he chose to guard the castle himself, not delegating the fine task to anyone else and taking on the night duties of his men. Timothy was deemed a noble knight, he had no business doing the patrol work otherwise, but perhaps it gave his mind a break from the heartbreak on her face and the sobs he could hear from his dreams.
Since their tearful meeting in the garden, they had not met in private. They had exchanged glances when no one was looking but every time she had tried to approach him, he excused himself from the room to do something else. He couldn’t risk her life, especially not for him.
So, he stayed away, guarding the castle walls, while mending his own ones, preparing for the unimaginable as stars passed by on the dark sky night by night.
Looking over the stone wall, he watched the moonlight illuminate the pines around the castle, watching as a few of his men switched positions over the bridge in the distance.
Resting his hand on his sword, he sighed, looking away from the outside to watch the insides of the castle. From this vantage point, he could overlook the entire castle, the surrounding village and parts of the forest as he had before. But more importantly, he had a direct view of her chamber. He couldn’t see inside, only watch the light that filtered through the dark drapes of her window.
Timothy imagined her petite figure, her flowing, long hair as she wore her nightrobe in her room for the last time. This time tomorrow she would be gone. She would be gone and with that, his heart would be gone.
Hearing a sudden noise from the side, he tore his gaze from her window, picking up a torch, while taking out his sword from its sheath with his other hand. He took a step toward the source of the sound, seeing a small figure in the shadows. The moonlight couldn’t light up the lines of the person ahead but even so, he knew who it was.
Putting his sword away, he took another step forward, glancing at innocent eyes as the fire of his torch lit up her face.
“What are you doing?” anger flooded his veins as she pulled a garment down from her head, exposing her wavy hair and neck. She was crossing a line. They had never met on the castle walls for it was too open for sulking creatures.
“My father and maid think I’m in my chamber. I had to come see you. You’ve been avoiding me,” she whispered, clutching the blanket tighter around her figure as if the piece of cloth could shield her from unwanted eyes.
“I have to say goodbye, by tomorrow…” Lucille broke off, her gaze wandering down, not daring to look at him.
Tomorrow.
His stomach churned at the thought, his body tensing as he imagined the smug look of the newlywed King’s face while he led away Timothy’s heart from sight, never to be seen again.
Looking around, he took a hold of her elbow, leading her away from the walls to a spot he knew was always abandoned. He kept the torch at his side, illuminating the crooked steps of the stairs.
They nearly reached the end of it when he heard the noise of metal clanking together and people sharing laughs from the ground floors and he stilled for a second, tightening his grip on her elbow to pull her closer.
She pulled the blanket over her hair, as if it could shield her identity and he held his breath, listening to the knights below.
They got lucky this time. The noise resonated through the walls but even so, it got fainter until it was in the past.
He tugged at her to follow him, and he led them to a secluded area near the stairs but far away from the exposed lines of the castle walls. Taking a step inside the small room, he placed the torch on the wall before closing the door behind her.
Without a second to waste, her fingers were reaching up for his helmet, pulling it off his face before he could even form a word to protest. Placing the piece of metal on the blanket that fell from her figure, she straightened, taking a moment to memorize his face.
He let her watch him without a word, selfishly savoring the moment they were forbidden to share. The air around them was thick with unsaid words and tension, the ticking seconds threatening to decoy their last moments of peace.
“Timothy,” she murmured, her gaze fixated on his lips but not taking the momentum, waiting for his quiet approval. He felt his last restraints melt away watching the fire illuminate her soft skin, her eyes shining with love as she glanced up at him.
Bowing his head, he locked his lips on hers, feeling the small gasp wreck her body. If he was to lose her tomorrow, this moment was to be theirs. He lifted his hand to caress the skin on her neck, stroking the soft spot of her skin he had done many times before. He cupped her cheek with the other, tugging her closer until she was pressed into his armor.
Her lips tasted like honey, forbidden and yet so delicious he wanted more.
She was his.
No matter the time or distance, she would always be his.
He heard the harsh sound of footsteps behind them but took no note of it, knowing well enough that the room they were using to share a moment of passion in was small enough to be hidden from any men. Savoring the taste of her lips, he allowed himself a moment to enjoy her warmth.
The vibrating sound of bells broke them apart and he took a step back, noting the worry in her eyes. More frantic footsteps echoed in the background, the old wooden door the only shield between them and certain death.
His heart raced as he listened to the bells, counting silently the number of notes that passed. At this hour of the night, the bells ringing offered only a few explanations. The castle was in danger, which meant she was in danger or…
No.
He looked back at Lucille; his gaze holding her captive with the anger and fear he felt deep in his bones.
Or they just found her empty chamber and bed.
She was visibly shaking, her hands pulling up the fallen blanket from the ground, before wrapping it around herself. If it had been any other time, he would have taken the moment to let his eyes devour her form. It wasn’t any other time though. It was the exact reason why he had avoided her in the past weeks.
Too. Many. Stranger. Eyes.
“We need to get you back to your chamber. Now,” he held her arm, his fingers holding on more tightly than he liked to handle her, pulling her towards the door but stopping to listen to the chaos outside.
“Timothy,” she whispered, clutching the blanket around herself like her life depended on it. Her voice betrayed the fear she tried to mask and she edged closer to him, the tremors in her body noticeably worsening.
The ringing of the bells subsided for the moment, and he pried the door open, looking around the hallway for any wandering knights and servants. By this time around, the whole castle was up and searching for her. He wanted to scold her for her recklessness but as he glanced back at her, he felt his own heart break again.
She seemed so small, flushed cheeks, her body getting lost under the wrap of the blanket. He wished nothing more than to take away the worry and pain she was feeling.
Their gazes locked for a split second before they emerged from the room, keeping a close distance to the walls to appear smaller and less obvious. Her fingers wrapped around his arm as they moved away from the room, keeping up with his pace. They were too exposed.
Just as they reached the corner, a familiar voice broke through the air, chilling his nerves, “Sir Timothy! Just the man we are looking for!”
Everett.
He was a man of high ambition, taking any chances to make Timothy’s life a living hell for leaving him at the hands of the enemy years ago.
They froze on the spot, his arm instinctively pushing her behind him in hopes of concealing her identity.
“I see you have company, who is the lady?” Everett eyes roamed over her face, his eyes widening in surprise when recognition delved on him. By the look of both of their swollen lips, her flushed face and his lack of helmet, it took no genius to figure out what they had been doing or who she had been with.
Locking gazes with Lucille, he tried to communicate his thoughts to her. Thoughts he couldn’t acknowledge loudly: go, run to your chamber, speak to no one, stop for no one.
She would be safer without being seen by more men at his side.
“Please be careful,” she hushed, squeezing his arm one last time before turning away, her blanket fluttering in the air as her legs carried her through the hallway. He waited until she was out of sight before taking a couple of big strides toward the man, slamming him into the walls.
“You are not to breathe a word about this to anyone! Do you understand?” he roared, his arm clenching down harder on the man’s throat against the wall.
Amusement flickered through the man’s eyes, his mouth curling up to a small smile that made Timothy’s insides twist, “Or what?”
“Or I will pull you inside out.”
“You are making a mistake here,” Everett bit back coldly and it took everything in Timothy to ground himself and not do anything stupid.
“I make them every day.”
“Well trust me, this mistake will come back to haunt you,” Timothy drew a dagger from his side, pressing the sharp tilt of it into the man’s throat. Everett hissed at the pain and fidgeted, the movement digging the object into his skin and drawing blood.
“You are going to keep your mouth shut.”
He tightened his grip for a second, letting more of Everett’s blood trickle down the dagger before pulling back, not wasting another look then turned, ready to walk away and make sure Lucille had arrived in her chambers without a scratch. A low chuckle echoed through the walls behind him as he moved forward and Timothy took a deep breath, grounding himself with thoughts of her scared eyes. He had no time to play Everett’s games.
“I hope it was worth it,” Everett shouted after him, but he didn’t falter, didn’t stop, his legs moving on instinct to put as much distance between him and Everett as possible. He knew the man. Below the surface of harsh looks and composed features, the man was a coward. He might be blaming Timothy for getting captured and thrown inside a cell for over a year, but it was his own naivety that got him into the situation.
He had told him he wasn’t ready for war, but Everett pushed himself until he froze up at the first stroke of death. Putting on the tough persona or not, Everett wouldn’t dare to breathe a word about catching him with Lucille in close proximity, for they would die, yes, but the messenger would be hung as well, and Everett was terrified of dying.
----------- <3 -------------
He was wrong.
Everett became the messenger.
The seal on their fates.
They were gathered inside the chapel when it happened.
It seemed to have started out as a standard royal nuptial. The priest was standing in the middle, surrounded by the flags of the two kingdoms. On each side, stood each kingdom’s high-regarded knights, including himself.
He watched tearfully under his helmet as King Sanford II arrived, taking his rightful place before the priest. They were ordered to bow and so they did, kneeling with drawn swords in front of a King who had slaughtered their men during the bloody war that had raged between the kingdoms.
It felt like betrayal.
It felt like spitting on the memory of those who died protecting this very place they were standing in.
The union between Lucille and the King was to bring freedom and peace to the two nations.
Feeling a pair of eyes on him, he glanced up, seeing Sanford’s blank expression, something cold flickering in his eyes.
Composing himself, they were ordered to stand as the chapel’s door opened again and with that emerged Lucille’s father and younger sister and–
Oh.
Oh, no.
He had imagined this situation countless times. He had dreamt of the situation countless times, but nothing could have prepared him for this moment. While she was to move to a faraway kingdom, she was safe and sound, but…
He was prepared to feel his heart shatter and disappear as he watched her close the distance between the door and her future husband.
He was prepared to feel his soul slip away as she took her last glance at him before being whisked away after the ceremony with her new King.
But…
Nothing could have prepared him for the sight in front of him.
Lucille was walking behind her father and sister with tears in her eyes, a bruise marking the underside of her cheek that was not there the night before. Her wrists were bound in front of her, while two men held her arms, forcing her to move forward and close the gap between them.
Her eyes found his under the helmet and he froze as a painful whimper echoed in the chapel.
Before he could move or react, the men he trusted, the men with whom he had a high number of winning battles with, stepped away from him, enclosing him in a tight circle with swords drawn, the sharp edges all pointing at him.
He pulled his own sword, ready to fight a final battle to protect her.
He was outnumbered, surrounded by the very men he trained himself but damn if he wouldn’t try.
He would rather try and die trying to protect her than let them harm her.
“Bradeforde! You have ruined my daughter and endangered the fate of our kingdom!” The words of Lucille’s father rang through the air and he bit his tongue, tasting the metallic flavor of his own blood.
He stood his ground, not saying a word as Lucille’s father stopped in front of him, his once loyal men, creating a small gap for their kingdom’s King.
“You have betrayed everyone in this room, for which your punishment is death!”
“Father, no, ple–“
“Do not call me your father! You disgraced our dynasty!” roared the King and he turned his attention on Lucille. The two men at her sides pushed down on her, forcing her onto her knees and Timothy tightened his grip on his sword, feeling the eyes of the whole nation on them.
Long gone were the peaceful strolls they took during the quiet afternoons.
Long gone were the kisses they had stolen when they thought no one was looking.
He just prayed with every fiber in his body that Lucille’s father would spare her. Send her to the church but at least keep her alive. He had long accepted his inevitable death, but she had to live.
“Bring him forward!”
Two hands grabbed his shoulders, and he yanked his arm back, turning his sword towards his men. He had trained them, perhaps too well. There were more of them but that did not stop Timothy Bradeforde, a man on a mission to keep his beloved alive.
He yielded his sword, cutting through the air in act of defense, taking a step back towards where he knew Lucille was watching every moment. If he were to die, he hoped she would not have to watch him suffer through it.
There was no time to wonder though, as his men came at him, from the opposite sides. His sword collided with metal, the loud noise breaking through the silence of the building. He kicked his leg forward as the knight on his left stumbled back, not expecting the momentum. Clearly, he should have trained them better.
He saw in the edges of his eyes as a sword closed in on him and he raised his arm, stopping the attack with his fingers while using his other arm to take a swing at his attacker. While the shield subsided most of his force, the sword cut through a thin layer and Timothy watched as the man he trusted his life with dropped his sword, a cry tearing from his throat.
“That is enough!” Sanford stepped forward, his knights right on his heel as he took out a dagger, pointing it at Lucille’s heart. Timothy stopped, holding up his sword in surrender and placing it at his feet.
“Father, please, don’t kill him,” she pleaded, looking up at her father as a batch of tears escaped her eyes. Only Lucille could beg for his life while she should be worrying for her own.
“Quiet, you disgrace!”
“Your problem is with me, leave her out of this!” Timothy tried to reason, the fury in his voice giving him a new sense of strength.
“You shall both suffer the consequences of your actions,” her father pointed at him and pain seared through his body, his skin scorching like it was set ablaze. Timothy gasped, his hands finding the shield on his stomach. He was expecting to feel the warmth of blood on his fingers but there was nothing, only blinding pain.
His knees shook, as though his armor shrank around him under the heat. He knew it was impossible. Looking down, through clenched teeth, he couldn’t see the flames he could feel in his veins.
He appeared to be normal and yet, he was burning from the inside out.
Another wave of pain washed over him, and he collapsed to his knees with a gasp, weaving through live fire in his body. He had no idea what was happening, he was barely conscious of the words that left the old man’s mouth.
The man was chanting something, rhythmically and while he could not make a word out, each syllable sent a new line of shock in his body.
“Don’t do this, please! Father!” his ears registered Lucille’s voice and he looked up, his gaze holding hers.
His sweet Lucille.
Oh, how he wished he could spare her the sight of his death.
“You are going to suffer the consequences. You shall find her and in every life, you shall lose her,” continued the old man, chanting something in an ancient language he couldn’t understand. He would suffer through the pain for it was worth having had a chance with her. To see into her kind soul and feel the passion with which she loved him with.
She was worth the suffering he was feeling.
“Father!”
“Enough!” she collapsed with a gasp, his mind slowing the fall, seeing the way her head hit the ground. She heaved, taking quick breaths, a dark crimson color repainting the floor under her.
Blood.
The burn inside him flared higher, the intensity making him wince as he tried to crawl forward and cradle her in his arms. She couldn’t die.
No, no, no, no.
The dagger was pulled out from her chest, his throat screaming her name without registering his surroundings. She slowly extended her arm, her fingers grazing his hot fingers and he winced, the burn inside him consuming every part of him.
He did not pull back though, as his thumb caressed her fingers, seeking comfort in their last moments together. Their eyes met and a small smile tugged at her lips. Even certain death, she was facing with a kind and brave face.
A tear escaped his eye, the cool liquid sending another shock of pain through his body. He didn’t know what was happening to him. He wasn’t stabbed; he wasn’t injured… He was… He didn’t know.
“I love you, Moonlight,” she mouthed, her body too weak to voice the actual syllables of the words and his heart panicked, seeing a trail of blood escaping her mouth.
They should have run away when they had the chance.
His blood blazed, his insides turning into a scorching mess. He wanted to scream, to let a small relief escape his tortured, actively burning body but he couldn’t. She did not deserve to hear that.
“I love you,” he tried to reply, the words getting stuck, his throat dry as if it had been days since had last drank water.
Her eyes fluttered close and a sudden wave of nausea and panic overtook the noise of the pain in his insides, his instincts kicking in as a last effort. Gathering the strength, he clenched his jaw, trying to shake her fingers.
She had to open her eyes.
She had to survive.
As the pain molded into a white noise, his armor turning into a hot furnace, he shook her fingers repeatedly, waiting to see those deep brown eyes one more time.
Her eyes remained close.
No.
No.
No.
A silent scream tore through his throat, feeling his airways and vocal cords melt together under the blare of the fire, the pain in his heart becoming just as unbearable as the one in his body. He choked on his words, the agony eating away at every one of his wills to live the longer her eyes remained closed.
As he lay there on his side, his fingers clutching hers, he stared at her body, at her spread-out hair and soft lips, hoping to join her in eternity soon.
His insides shattered, melting together into an agonizing motion and he closed his eyes, feeling the calmness of nothingness pulling him under.
He held her fingers through the blaze, life seeping out his body, surrendering him to darkness as a last thought appeared in his mind:
His job was to protect her.
He failed.
He couldn’t.
He couldn’t protect the only person that mattered to him.
He failed her.
And he would spend lifetimes trying to make it up to her.
In whatever small doses life would allow him to.
In whatever small doses she would allow him to.
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