and he leaves her, accepting/seeing/acquiescing. ribs open, heart a twisted, shapeless thing, beating for no one but herself. his absence is a cold void in front of her. she craves copper, that feeling of the ring as they circled each other, pretending they weren't dancing a prelude to something more. 

she wipes uselessly at her eyes and crouches down, reaching for the crown. and on her knees, she holds it up to him and she says, "because we did. because i took you to a fight. because you lost twenty years, king, and it killed you. and i can't...i can't watch you...i'm -

"i'm not strong enough. i'm selfish. i know that. i know that. i don't know what i'm doing. i don't fucking know...how to make it stop. the hurt. i can't stop the hurting. i can't stop hurting."

she sputters and the rest of her breaks. the crown tumbles from her hands and her palms go to her eyes as she loses what's left of her composure. 

KING WAYLAND

☉

she doesn't have answers. none that make sense. not to him. and it's not fair that he can't understand, that it will make all of this so much worse for him. 

her knees draw up and she chokes out a sob.

"please stop trying to remember," she manages in jilted hiccups, nonsensical sputtering, knives at her back and one at her front, staring down and not knowing why. tasting his grief on her tongue, even after two decades. 

she searches again for the crown and draws it into her lap and she does not realize she has become a tangential dream, mirroring years un-past. in a body ten years older, staring with red-rimmed eyes down at this accursed gift, not knowing king is looking upon her. 

until he tells her to stop searching for a way out. until he tells her to stop trying to save them. 

KING WAYLAND

☉

she lifts her head. ages have past. there is a weariness in her, the weight of two decades pressing on her heart. and all she wants to do when she looks at him is kiss him and hold him and pretend that everything is going to be okay. 

she thumbs the crown. tears stain her cheeks, drip off her chin and onto the relic spun out of time. her voice is hoarse when she finally finds it. 

the truth. 

"it's my fault. maybe not all of it, but enough." her mouth twists. "galar. elisabeth...

"fernando." a crack. teeth clenched, hissing, crown thrown aside with a sense of finality. who was i kidding? i can't stop this. i can't stop him. and that's my fault too.
because she asked for it. she wanted it. she went to him, willingly, and she begged for change. for mercy.

"how could you still want this?"

me?

KING WAYLAND

☉

ye, most of it is. 

her lip quivers.

he gives her the ultimatum she's been looking for - the way out. the solution. the promise of a future for them, unimpeded by the storm she brings. it would be easier to do this as she was - poised and composed. 

but now she flinches under the weight of his i love you. her eyes keep leaking and she has to wipe a small dribble of snot off her nose with the sleeve of her hoodie. how can she fix this? how can she put them back together? 

she knows how his pieces fit, but it's dangerous. it's too - 

"i'll tell you," she says, throat raw. she takes his hand from her chin and draws it away from her. around the bed, under the mattress, she tugs free a worn leather journal and holds it out to him. its front is spattered with brown stains. she smooths her palm over it, hesitates, and then holds it out to him. 

tugs it back slightly before he can take it. 

"it was a long time, king. a long time of you being unhappy." a long time of you blaming me. seeing her in me. "i didn't want you to...feel that again. because it's - " awful. 

she blinks away and stares down at the half-packed duffel bag. 

KING WAYLAND

☉

he reads. his brows crease. the veil lingers stubbornly over his eyes - that same faraway look that so many others (ollie morales, Eva Morales, Greyson Connors) have gotten when she's mentioned the past refuses to make sense of the words on the page.

in his contemplation, wavering on the precipice, she looks down at herself. 'cause i love ye. but it doesn't change what she's done, what she's doing, and gods, delta. delta.  how she ever got near elisabeth is beyond her. an attack doesn't feel right.

it doesn't matter. 

she reaches for a sweater and rolls it up to place in the duffel bag, pausing only when king withdraws, eyes glassy. 

"it's everything i remember," she says. "everything you forgot.

"you're not the only one who's forgotten. it's...i didn't mean to keep it from you." she tucks another shirt in the bag and rearranges some things, keeping her hands moving lest she break down again. "but i haven't met anyone else who remembers. and if i can't trust myself, my own thoughts, again..."

teeth grit. tears well and shame sweeps through her, hot and acrid. 

KING WAYLAND

☉

she runs her arm under her nose and continues her meticulous packing, stopping only when he speaks again. her shoulders sag. her exhaustion, strained under the weight of remembering, forced to the surface under his revelation, is obvious now. 

"is it so wrong of me, wanting to spare you that grief?" she says quietly in response. 

KING WAYLAND

☉

she looks down. 

they'd found moments of respite and happiness during those decades. they'd shared laughs, hours of intimacy, wrapped around each other tightly enough to excavate what hurt and pain they could. but there was a lingering grief that pervaded every minute of every hour. 

every sideways glance. every stolen kiss. every battle won. that feeling of being trapped never left her. that feeling of isolation never left him. 

"i don't know," she says and then blinks up at him, realizing it's the truth. she zips up the bag and perches on the edge of the bed, shoulders drawn. 

"i've loved you for over twenty years, king. twenty years of love you don't remember and that's...hard. for me. for you.

"but i'd do it again in a heartbeat."

KING WAYLAND

☉