It is strange, in a way, that for all his years and heartaches he has never been on this side of the sorrow. He thinks now that he would rather have his heart broken a hundred times than watch it happen to someone else, and know it is his doing.
Before he spoke the words her silver eyes had been luminous as the moon. He sees the shadow pass over them. He watches the smile curve her lips, graceful but half-gone. The beach is less beautiful; the gulls aren’t laughing now but sobbing, mournful, a Greek chorus despairing. The ocean sighs at their feet and Asterion wants to sink into its cold and dark.
She is lucky to have your heart. There is nothing he could say to that, not when he disagrees - his wandering heart is nothing but a burden. He smiles too, tightly. Behind him the waves murmur, aware of his turmoil. And when she speaks again they dash themselves over the rocks and dissolve into foam and memory.
Pain sears Asterion like a bolt. He shakes his head, emphatic. “Don’t say that. Not after my abandonment.” And even now, he thinks, she doesn’t know the half of it - how he doesn’t want to lead again, can’t bear to face his countrymen, how if he tries he knows he will only reap failure over and over with every harvest. He almost continues - I’ll get what I deserve- but bites his lip, swallows the words. He hasn’t the right to confide in her, not now.
So instead he sighs, as deeply as the waves. For a moment he watches the gulls as they sweep over the water, always circling and never settling. He says, “Forgive me. I - I should find Marisol, and let her know I’ve returned.” It takes a new kind of courage to look her in the eye again, to study her elegant features and see the sorrow he’s put there. His voice is quiet when he speaks again, hardly more than a murmur. “I hope your spirit remembers its wings, Samaira. And that they are yours, and no one else’s.” For a moment he hesitates, then reaches, slowly, to brush her cheek.
When he withdraws, his eyes are cast down. “We’ll speak again soon. I…I am sorry. Truly.” And with that he turns to begin the long walk to the capitol, leaving her with her heartache, cradling his own. And in moments the waves wash his footprints away.
@
hold me amongst all your cards;
