He'd love her for a thousand years.

For Rory time meant nothing. He'd wait eons for her if he had to. Already a thousand years had passed. There were myths and legends surrounding him about the Roman Centurion who was waiting by a box and guarding it.

They were right except he wasn't just guarding a box. He was guarding what was inside of it; the thing in there was what he cared about most in life.

Amy Pond: The girl he had love for life, his fiancé, and the girl he had died for.

Quietly he shifted the sword so it wouldn't poke into his side, glancing around the room. He was all alone.

In his head he played little movies of things that they had done together, how he had proposed, picking out the cake for the wedding.

Everything went through his head.

Rory looked at the Pandorica, resting his hand lightly on it as if it was her.

And he'd love her for a thousand more.


A/N

Another short Amy/Rory drabble. Not my best but oh well.

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