She is crying, tears reflecting in her beautiful green eyes. His sweet sister, lovely even in her sadness.
He never cries. He would never allow himself to show weakness in front of her. Her loving brother, brave even in his tragedy.
Part of him rages, swearing vengeance on those who have caused those tears (brilliant as the most precious of diamonds, but tears of sorrow nonetheless) to fall down her pale cheeks. The fire of his wrath burns ever as brightly, not even the strength of the sea enough to extinguish it. It will be his light in the darkest corner of the world, at least until he is reunited with her, his only star in the night sky.
Part of her wants to wake from this dream, wants to find those who have taken him away from her and crush their undead hearts in her hands as they still beat. She will not stop until she finds him, be it in a year or a millennium. She will burn the entire world down in her quest if she has to, until it gives her the one she loves the most back.
But this is not the time for such thoughts. He will not let his fury show, not in front of her, not when he knows what is upon them. He will be the brother she loves, the brother she deserves. The brother he's tried to be for the last thousand years, not always successfully.
What has she ever done to deserve such a brother? So many times she has run away from him, for so long failing to realize nothing and nobody will ever treasure and love her as deeply and completely as he does. And he has always forgiven her, always taken her back into his arms as if she had never left his side. She should have been a better sister, a sister he deserves.
He feels her trembling in his arms, delicate like a doll, a child he must shield from the cruel world they live in. He wishes he could comfort her, promise her everything would be fine. Yet, his lips are sealed shut, because words would only ruin the moment, one of the last few moments he has with her before the world around them collapses and she is lost to him for countless lifespans under the water.
Her hands hold desperately onto his face – if she can feel him, it means he is not lost to her, not alone in the darkness under the crushing pressure of the sea, out of her reach. He is still here, his heart still pounding close to hers, his breath tickling her skin. But how long will it last? Will he be here in the next moment, or the one after it?
He senses the end is near. Water fills his mouth, his throat, his lungs. He tries to push it away, for her sake as much as for his own, but reality tears the illusion around them apart. He holds onto her for dear life, just to avoid seeing the desperation in her eyes when she realizes their time is up.
She won't let go. They will let him stay or they will take her with him. She would rather suffer thousand agonising deaths alongside him than take a single breath, knowing he couldn't do the same. She mustn't let go. He is still here – she can still feel his strong arms wrapped around her shoulders, holding her tight like when they were children.
She is gone. He is all alone in the darkness.
He is gone. She is all alone in the darkness.
Aurora.
Tristan.
He dies every few minutes and then comes back to a life of excruciating pain, but he embraces it with joy, because he can relish in a few short minutes of thinking of her. He holds onto memories they have shared during their long lives; they are all he has left of happiness in this endless abyss.
She feels worms feasting on her skin, but she pays them no mind. Pain helps her think, because it is now something they share. He is not alone in his suffering. They are never truly alone, for they have always had and they will always have each other.
He remembers her dancing under the sun, barefoot on the green carpet of grass in late spring. Her dress floats about her, as if a pair of wings is hidden beneath it and they are just about to reveal themselves and take her wherever she desires to go. She laughs – no music can match the sound of that laugh.
She remembers him practice with his sword, determined to prove himself worthy of de Martel name. His sword hits hard and true and she cannot believe anyone would ever dare oppose him. He can conquer the world if he wishes so, but when her gaze meets his, she sees the truth in his blue eyes – he already has everything he wants.
He remembers her crushing under the weight of the demons' voices inside her mind. She is red, always red. Hair, eyes, lips. Blood she bathes in.
She remembers him being cruel to others, to her, to himself. His eyes are dark, full of shadows a thousand suns could not illuminate.
He has seen all the sides to her, as she has to him, yet the love they hold for each other has never faded. It never will.
She loves him for everything he is, as he loves her. That love will not allow her to fail. Like a compass needle, like the North Star, it will guide her on her path.
One day, he knows, no matter how or when, she will come for him.
One day, she knows, no matter how or when, he will hold her in his arms.
And all will be well again.
And all will be well again.