remembrance

There were countless opportunities to change his mind, to toss the vial and keep his distance like she seemed to desire. But it was thinking about her desire at all that spurred him forward, standing in front of the doors to the throne room as they opened to admit him. It was his own desire to see her happy again, knowing she'd never have to think of him. That he would be left with those memories, knowing what he'd done to her and what he planned to do now, was nothing less than what he deserved. He realized it was selfish, but he couldn't continue like this and she didn't deserve to be tormented as she was, she never had. This had been exactly what he'd tried to warn her against twenty years ago. That in loving him she would never know peace. At least with Arlange she could live comfortably behind her walls and he could know that she was well protected. Whereas if he'd allowed her to come with him all those years ago, she'd forever be his weakness, the one person he would suffer any number of gruesome deaths to protect. 

So it was the prospect of her being free from those shackles that continued to drive him forward across the polished stone floor, eyes pinned however foolishly on her atop that throne. But the closer he got, the quicker his heart raced until he was mere feet from the steps up to the dais. He dropped to one knee for a deep bow in his sincere supplication but also to allow himself the opportunity to compose himself once more before he tumbled off this precipice. 

He lifted his head, forearm now resting on his thigh. Maker, did she look beautiful up there, even when she staring at him with blank indifference. Not even anger. He might've preferred her contempt to this. He stared for a moment, allowing himself what could potentially be the last moments to regard the woman he loved in her organic form. Nothing here to hamper their memories, good or bad. Just raw, unspoken reality. The way it should be, really. 

Thank you for seeing me, Your Grace. His tone was graveled as he nearly choked on his own tongue. It was rare he let his nerves get the better of him. He flexed his hand, fanning on his fingers to rid himself of the clamy feeling that plagued them all of the sudden. I uh- he cleared his throat again and then once more for good measure, pulling the vial from the pocket of his jerkin. Alyvia, I.. Did he even have a right to call her by that name anymore?