I don't really like the MatthewxLeila pairing; you never really get a good fix on Leila's personality, so it tends to be generic. However, it's a great generic tragedy. Anyways, I heard this song and couldn't get Matthew out of my head, so...
Huey:...(Disclaimer)...
Song is "On A Valentine's Day" by Linkin Park
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My insides are turned to ash, so slow,
Even as Hector hailed Leila, Matthew felt a sense of dread. He could easily identify her, despite the fog. The ceaseless wind blew a few strands of her red hair, unmistakable even in the poor light. But one of the things he loved about her was the way that she refused to be idle; she wouldn't be standing and waiting. She would either still be undercover, or have sought them out and reported. And the way she seemed slumped, not her straight, confident gait… Matthew felt a flash of fear, like fire incinerating his dreams, but pushed it away. Leila was good, almost as good as he was.
And blow away as I collapsed, so cold.
"She's… dead…"
As the words registered, he knew it was impossible. It just couldn't be. Their lives were entwined, inseparable. He could still see their future, planned in his head since he had met her, taking her to his family, watching as they set aside a place for her in their hearts. He could see them retired, living happily in peace, maybe raising some children, away from the risks. He already planned to retire after this mission, and was sure Leila would do the same. The images still shone bright, and Leila was still in them. There was no possible way that she could die now, so close. She had to be faking her death, or maybe asleep on her feet. He reached out to grasp her, taking her hand, waiting for her eyes to open, to light up and flash him the small, secretive smile she reserved for so few…
Matthew felt his gut clench as he fell to his knees.
He had imagined this moment many times, but he had no ring.
Her hand was cold.
A black wind took them away, from sight,
She was gone. His hopes, his dreams, his future… they began to fade, their radiance tarnished by the blood that had congealed about the wound in her back. The unnamed Black Fang assassin who had killed her had, without knowing it, stolen both their lives.
And now the darkness over day, that night.
Dread Isle had seemed dreary as he arrived, but he had been buoyed by the prospect of their journey coming to a close, and of reuniting with Leila. Without that light, the dank surroundings, and his very existence, seemed to dim.
And the clouds above move closer,
Looking so dissatisfied,
But the heartless wind kept blowing, blowing.
He noticed it was getting foggier. Part of his mind, the part trained as an Ostian spy, continued to gather intelligence, but he ignored it. The mists only served to fuel his despair, closing in as his chest clenched about his heart.
The wind kept whistling, and he hated it.
I used to be my own protection, not now,
'Cause my path has lost direction, somehow
"What is there to apologize for, my lord? Leila blundered…that's all…"
The smile- that came without thought. He had lived behind that smile. It was like raising a shield, a façade that served him well in his profession, unreadable and disarming. But the second layer of armor, his knowledge that he would spend his life with his true love, the plating that kept despair at bay, was shattered, and its broken shards were draped in his arms.
And so the words cut him. Attempting to hide his anguish, opening his mouth without a scream at having part of his soul ripped way… It took more effort than he had ever exerted in his life.
A black wind took you away, from sight,
And now the darkness over day, that night.
"…Waited too long, didn't I? …Ha…" Matthew paused to swallow the lump in his throat. "My lord… if I may rejoin you later? She has to be buried…"
Even before Hector nodded and approve, he had gathered up his beloved's body. Cradling his broken happiness in his arms, he fled into the fog.
It enveloped them, and even with his keen vision, the fog was deep enough to partially obscure her face like a funeral shroud.
And the clouds above move closer,
Looking so dissatisfied,
And the ground below grew colder,
As they put you down inside
But the heartless wind kept blowing, blowing.
The fog hung heavy, as though disapproving, as Matthew carefully laid the body of his love into the shallow grave he had dug. The very earth seemed to grow cold as she left his arms and lay broken at the bottom.
Minutes ago, he had been whole. He had a future, a love, even happiness. And then, in moments, it had been torn from him. Everything had changed for him.
But that damn wind kept whistling, as it had for centuries, and he screamed at it for not caring, for never ceasing even as the one light in his life was extinguished.
There was no echo.
So now you're gone,
And I was wrong,
I never knew what it was like,
To be alone…
It was still foggy when they returned, summoned by Nergal's taunting invitation, but Matthew remembered the exact path to Leila's grave.
He had always been something of a loner in his childhood. He enjoyed sneaking about, and friends only gave him away.
But he had never been lonely then, and now, drowning in it, he almost wanted to stay with the painful reminder of his loss than return to the camp.
On a Valentine's Day,
On a Valentine's Day,
On a Valentine's Day.
He tried not to look at anybody. It seemed that staring death in the face, and knowing that each day could be your last, had accelerated the emotions of those battling Nergal. But try as he might, he wasn't able to avoid everything.
He saw Lady Louise laugh as Lord Pent tickled her, both lost in the delight of being in the company of their love- a delight he remembered far too well.
On a Valentine's Day,
I used to be my own protection,
On a Valentine's Day,
Not now.
On a Valentine's Day,
'Cause my mind has lost direction,
On a Valentine's Day,
Somehow.
No matter how he tried to tear his gaze away, he couldn't help but watch as his own lord, normally so brusque and direct, awkwardly stumble over his words as he tried to explain how he felt to Lady Lyndis, who seemed touched at his earnestness.
He finally averted his eyes and stumbled across the camp, trying not to think about what he had to live for, knowing he would find only emptiness.
On a Valentine's Day,
I used to be my own protection,
On a Valentine's Day,
Not now.
On a Valentine's Day,
'Cause my mind has lost direction,
On a Valentine's Day,
Somehow.
He passed Priscilla and Erk, whispering conspiratorially with each other, reminding Matthew of how few the moments were in which he has truly able to speak his heart to Leila, the memories stabbing into his heart.
He made it to his tent before collapsing onto his bunk, and finally collapsing into the blissfully empty realm of sleep.
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That was cheerful. R & R please.