Wrote this kind of at random. Trust me, I feel like a horses ass, but it had to come out sometime. Well, here you go :)
Cynder trailed her claw along Spyro's chest, following the grain of his scales. A light sheen of sweat coated his purple scales, his body was shaking endlessly. His eyes were clenched shut, attempting to block out an unseen pain. His breaths shot out in labored pants; wheezy and shallow. His paws and tail were curled in on themselves, his paws bleeding now and them from his claws. He was feverish, tortured by night terrors, and weak.
It had been this way for nine days.
The Guardians had been tried several herbal brews, bled him, and tried letting the illness run its course. Nothing was working, and Spyro's condition was continuing in its downward spiral.
Cynder had not left her lovers side. Her job was to comfort him, and wake him every few hours from his fitful sleep. Cyril was in the room now, breezing him with cool breaths to keep him temperature under control. Cynder wished he would be done; she hated leaving Spyro's side.
Outside the wind whipped rain against the windows. The weather seemed to reflect everyone's mood. There hadn't been a happy face in the entire temple since Spyro had fallen ill.
"Cynder, I'm done," Cyril said softly, stepping up behind her. "Has he improved at all?"
Cynder shook her head sadly. He had no idea how badly she wanted to say yes. Cyril was chagrined.
"Has he said anything?"
Cynder shrugged. "He mumbles sometimes," her voice cracked as tears flooded over her ebony cheeks. "He keeps saying how sorry he is . . . like it's his fault."
Cyril placed a consoling paw on Cynder's shoulder, and then left the room silently. Cynder sobbed by Spyro's bedside, burying her face in his quilts.
Tonight I'm so alone
This darkness takes a hold
Don't leave me here so cold
Never want to be so cold
A hand on Cynder's shoulder made her jolt. She had fallen asleep. She looked up bleary eyed and horrified. She hadn't been awake to wake Spyro. She pulled a quilt off his face, and was relieved to see his chest still heaving in shuddering breathes. She turned to see who had touched her back.
Ember stood behind her, flanked by Flame. The pink dragoness's eyes were puffy and her scales were wet with tears. "How is he?" She asked weakly.
Cynder's chin quivered. "Not good," she replied lethargically.
Ember emitted a muffled sob, pulling Cynder into a friendly embrace. The two dragons cried together for a few moments before breaking apart, both sniffling. Flame placed a sympathetic paw on Cynder's shoulder. Both dragons left Cynder alone, again. She hated it how everyone was coming in like Spyro was going to die. He wasn't, he would pull through this.
Spyro moaned pitifully, and Cynder leapt to his side. She ran her paw over his forehead. "Spyro? Love, can you hear me?"
His eyes opened, but they fluttered. "Cyn?" He called meekly.
Cynder had never been so happy to hear his voice. "Yes! I'm here, we're all here, we're all pulling for you, baby." She cried, her heart in her mouth.
Spyro coughed, and his eyes clenched shut in pain. His claws gripped at his chest, his entire body tensing with the convulsions. "I'm so sorry, Cyn," he coughed again, gasping for breath, "I failed you…"
Cynder's heart raced. "No! How could you say that? You have never failed me!" She wailed, taking his shaking body in her arms.
His head fell limp against her shoulder, but she felt his breathing fall into shallow, rhythmic pattern. She sighed, calming herself. He was not dying, she told herself firmly.
That was the last time he spoke to her for several more days. The hours were long and the loss of sleep began to show. Cynder became irritable and fatigued. She barely ate or slept, and rarely spoke.
Your touch used to be so kind
Your touch used to give me life
I've waited all this time
I've wasted so much time
Terrador came into Cynder's room near after dark. She was sitting in the corner, staring out the window with a blank expression on her sunken face. Terrador stopped by Spyro's bed with a large mug in his paw.
"He's getting worse," Cynder croaked. Her voice was weak from lack of use.
For days she had been listening to him suffering, unable to help in any way. His illness still hadn't reached a break, and it was becoming impossibly worse. He had night sweats, worsening night terrors, he shook all the time, and he was becoming delusional. He muttered about incomprehensible things, and his pain seemed to be getting worse.
"I know," Terrador said softly. "I understand your pain, but…"
Cynder whipped around, furious. "No, you know nothing. I sit here every day and literally watch my lover waste away, and I am stuck here, doing nothing. Can you imagine how what that must be like? To watch the one you love suffer, and know that there is nothing that you can do for them?" She spat, fresh tears running down her cheeks.
"No, Cynder, I do not. But letting yourself go to nothing is not what Spyro would have wanted for you. You need to take care of yourself. You're not helping him anymore here than you would be in a soft bed in another room," Terrador said evenly.
Cynder shook her head. "I won't leave." She hissed.
Terrador nodded silently, and left the room. Cynder crawled back to her corner and stared at Spyro. How could this have happened to him? It wasn't fair. Her stomach twisted uncomfortably. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wall. She forced her eyes back open after a few moments. Bright spots blotched out her vision. Cynder had to blink several times before the spots cleared.
But a faint headedness took over, and she fell to the floor with a thud.
Falling in the black
Slipping through the cracks
Falling to the depths can I ever go back
Dreaming of the way it used to be
Can you hear me
It seemed like only a few seconds late when a paw was shaking her awake. She sat up abruptly, her head spinning and ringing. Her muscles were sore from sleeping on the ground, but she didn't care only one thing mattered.
Spyro.
"He's asking for you," Cyril's voice requested softly.
Cynder staggered to her feet, tears streaming down her cheeks. She scrambled to Spyro's bedside. He looked worse than ever. His rich purple scales were faded and ugly, his breathing was forceful, and his pulse was slow.
"Spyro," she wept, pulling him tight to her chest.
"Cyn…Cynder…please listen to me," he whispered hoarsely, "I love you so much."
Cynder cried harder. This couldn't be it. "I know, I love you too."
"But I have to go now…"
No!
"Don't leave me Spyro I can't live without you! Please, I can't…I can't," she sobbed.
Spyro lifted his paw and placed it on her face. "I need…you to be strong…if you won't do it for yourself then do it…for me…"
"No," she wailed, "You're not dying, Spyro, you can't!"
Spyro smiled weakly. "But I am, Cynder," he said softly.
Cynder buried her face in his neck, "It's not fair," she cried, digging her claws into his skin.
"I know, but you have to let me go," he whispered.
Cynder let go, pulling back slowly. "No." She said firmly.
"He's suffering Cynder," Volteer said gently. "The longer he lives, the more he will continue to suffer."
Cynder had not noticed everyone in the room before. Flame and Ember sat together, both crying silently, all three elders, Hunter, and Sparx were placed around the room. Each in their own state of silent pain.
"Cynder," Spyro whispered.
She turned back to her dying lover. "Don't do this to me…" she begged hopelessly.
"I need to know it's okay, Cynder, I don't want to fail you…"
The tears flowed shamelessly, staining her scales and dropping onto Spyro's face. "You never failed me…" she leaned down and kissed his lips for the last time, "You saved me." She held the kiss as long as she could, but she could not avoid the inevitable. "It's okay," she whispered against his mouth, "You can let go now."
Tears streak Spyro's pale face. "Thank you," he sighed against her lips.
Cynder shook terribly. "You are my first, and last, I swear it."
The room was dead silent as Spyro's last heart beats reverberated through the room, leaving an open void in each creature's heart.
Cynder's heart shattered as she felt her lovers last breath blow against her face. Slowly, one by one, friends left in ones and twos until it was just Ember left.
"I loved him to," she said brokenly, placing a paw on Cynders back.
"Get out!" Cynder snapped, making Ember wince.
She didn't wait for a response; she crawled into the bed and curled up beside Spyro's lifeless body. She was numb. He was really wasn't coming back.
You were my source of strength
I've traded everything
That I love for this one thing
Stranded in the offering
Don't leave me here like this
Can't hear me scream from the abyss
The tears had finally stopped; she had no more to cry. It didn't matter anyways; she had nothing left to cry for, nothing to live for. She had not eaten, she had not drunk or slept, she had not spoken, and she had not cried.
The day of Spyro's funeral was as dark as the occasion itself. An icy rain fell over the funeral, making everyone shiver. The service was short and cold, only Sparx and Cyril spoke. She had thought something up, but hadn't the nerve to say it.
The small crowd filed away after only one hour, leaving Cynder standing alone beside an embellished amethyst headstone.
"I can't live without you," she whispered into the wind. "I won't."
The black dragoness raised her face to the skies, poising the scythe of her tail under her skin. She closed her eyes and whispered, "I'm so sorry."
In one quick motion Cynder cut herself. The pain didn't come immediately; there was only a slight discomfort. She couldn't breathe, and she felt the warm, sticky crimson flow down her neck, and then came the pain. She collapsed to the ground, feeling trapped inside it. She wondered if this is how it was for Spyro for the sixteen days she had made him suffer. She deserved this…
Blackness pressed down on her, and she didn't resist. I'm coming Spyro…
I've traded everything that I love
For this one thing
And now I wish for you my desire
Don't leave me here so cold
In the heavens, Spyro looked down on his love and cried. "I've failed…"