"I'm so scared- you've given me all of you." Haura whispered. "I cannot... I am not worthy."
"You are the tactician for an entire army of lives-"
"It's not the same! What if I die? What will happen to you? I cannot-"
Her words were cut off as he grabbed her shoulders. "Do not even speak of it. I will kill anyone that harms you-"
"As I you!" Her reply came out strangled even as she stared defiant into his eyes. "But this is a horrible, unpredictable war! I need to know that you will live on without me. That you will be there for Morgan. Just as I would have to..."
She regretted speaking when a hot surge of panic hit her stomach. Those harsh words fell apart to dust in her mouth as she saw the faint flutter of his eyelids and the slightest flare of his nostrils. Before the wound could even be made, her heart ached. Even now, in the low light of their tent, she could see the thin white scars on his arms. His thumb in turn pressed gently into the old scars on her right shoulder. Lon'qu held himself so still and tense that she did not breathe an apology in fear of disturbing him.
Finally, his hands eased off her and Haura watched him retreat into himself. The pressure of his fingers lingered. She remembered how miraculous it had been, when he had squeezed her shoulder after battle, that Lon'qu had finally stepped into her existence as a physical being, not just an apparition she had reached for.
"This is why I did not want this."
The defensive fire raged up, quick and hot, but she managed to swallow it and wait for another tremulous moment.
"But before I could stop it, it was too late- Haura, I..." he turned away and bowed his head. The words he did not have vanished from his lips and instead only a thin, bitter smirk remained. "You have heard of my story with Ke'ri. Perhaps that should have warned you about what kind of obsessive, cursed man I am."
She moved before she thought, wrapping her arms around him. Watching him shrink himself into his shell of self-loathing hurt. Under her arms, he relaxed and she pressed her cheek against the side of his head. In a couple more minutes, the sun would rise and the camp would begin to move again. They would don their armor with their skin disappearing under gauntlets and lock their golden breastplates over their hearts.
"I love you." She said into his hair. Then again. And again. She murmured it like a mantra and hearing his breathing turn ragged brought tears to prick at her eyes. Then, she changed her prayer.
"You will live."
Lon'qu's hands reached up to clutch at her forearm.
"We will live. We will survive."
"I will keep you safe. You will ensure our survival and I yours." Lon'qu said with an edge of ferocity in his voice. She pretended not to hear the tremble in his voice. Galvanized by the heat of his back, scarred, broad, and strong, sincerity bubbled up into her throat and scorched her tongue.
"We will be fine."
A/N:
Because there is no way they did not go into war again and again, especially in the final battle against Grima, without full knowledge of what could (will) happen.