She was everything.
Everything.
Without her he was nothing. She was his light in the dark, his sun moon and stars; she was the gravity that kept him anchored, the very air he breathed.
She was his angel.
Why could she not see this? Why did she not realise that without her he would be nothing? Why could she not see that with her he didn't want to be anything?
She loved him, of that he was sure, but she did not understand him. His light in the dark she showed him the way, but didn't not see that it was not her way to chose.
She could not understand, she never would, but she had never betrayed him.
His father figure, his mentor, his brother had done that. His master had plotted against him, had abandoned and betrayed him.
Even he did not understand. They, who had been together so long, who knew each other so well, did not understand each other.
Sometimes he felt so alone.
Then he would go to his friend, his confident, who understood and knew him far better than those he loved ever would. He would spill out his troubles, worries and frustrations, safe in the knowledge that they would never be revealed, comforted by the knowledge that this man, whom he trusted above all others, would never, ever betray him.