It was a forbidden love. The torturous kind; unrequited, ever vigilant, seeping into his veins. His duty, above all else, was to keep her safe, keep them safe, keep the world safe. Distance was necessary, control was essential. No luxury of desire, want, or need could be taken. The Order dictates…the Order…
Yet her eyes; ever shining brightly as the sun she'd never seen. Sparkling pools of sapphires and emeralds twinkling through the dark tresses that she would curl around her fingers when spoken to. He was often lost in the sight of her; breathing was a conscious act to control the flush upon his flesh. Her porcelain skin appeared smooth to the touch, though he didn't dare. Those lips, so soft, the shade of a rose in full bloom, the bottom one in a constant state of being nibbled on by her own nerves. And then her voice; more angelic than any other, more beautiful than the greatest of bards tales.
Possessed. Apostate. Maleficar. Demon. Abomination. To associate such harsh words with one so magnificent…reality. Focus. To tempt fate, to give in to lust, this is unacceptable in his world. Unshakable faith, flawless moral center, emotional distance, these are the ways of the Templar. Serve the Maker, serve the Chantry, this is all he knows. Her death may be necessary, his blade may strike that final blow, the Order dictates…
But not today. This day she remains with him. Her Harrowing a success. Her life spared, his heart renewed. Her smile lingers, her eyes beg, her scent overwhelms his senses, and he is once again consumed by her. One day she shall be free, some day he may be unbound. And should they meet again in their uncertain futures, he will offer himself to her.