El Rey —
sometimes things acquire a tenderness,a monstrous tenderness we don't expect from them.
He prays that her wing shields them from the crowd, from its sight. He wants to feel those feathers - her feathers - forever. She is everything. His heart slams in his chest as she speaks, saying such heart-wrenching words as only Juniper would. “I could not stay where you were not.”
Her love is unfathomable. But it is dangerous. “Oh, gods, but you should have.”
He thinks she is praying, too. He shivers, sweat turning clammy too soon.
“I would not strip you from my side ever. You are as my own rib-bones. But you should fear them. They hate me. And they would take the opportunity to hate you.” El Rey pauses, blinking away sweat or tears. “And you, my love...are above all hate.” He kisses her brow, and glances at the spaces between her feathers. He thinks the crowd is beginning to quiet, to ebb in some direction that he was thought to go in. He hopes this above all other things; above all other things, he hopes this moment nestled in Juniper's wings lasts forever. In another time. Another place. “They-” he starts, then inhales shakily. “I know what you have said. What you feel. But they- would prosecute me for my crimes.” - though they were not crimes at the time - “Not even. Execute me. Without trial. Without thought for my reform. Without thought for whom I love,” he gazes into her eyes, “or who loves me.”
