The dark haired archer turned around for the last time. She had the love of her life by her side, her best friend on the other. Saluting, the crowd gave one last cheer as she was led out of the stage by the other white-haired victor.
That night, as the pair were preparing to go to bed, she told him; 'I love you, and I always will.' He was quite confused about the statement, and claimed that he already knew. She simply smiled cheekily and took his hand, planting a kiss on his chapped, pink lips. 'Just remember it,' she said.
He was still confused but let it go, returning the same saying along with a goodnight.
The next morning, he woke up as usual- only this time there was one slight difference: she was still in bed, his white-headed angel resting on a pillow. He frowned, shaking her shoulder and calling her name gently to wake her up. But no matter what effort he made, she laid still as ice, not turning around or mumbling anything. He was crying now, gently cradling her cold and lifeless body into his warm chest, now wrenching with uncontrollable sobs.
The funeral had been one of the hardest days of his life. Thousands of people came to give him their condolences, feeling for the lost of his long-term lover. Six hunched figures, all dressed in black, carried the casket that contained the stiff body of the savior of millions of people, the light in thousands of lives. The casket had been lowered gently into the ground, a lone red rose adorning the top of it. Tears fell along with the rain, merciless and salty with a heavy feeling. Finally, though, after what could've been hours, minutes, or days, everyone started to disperse; they didn't want to get too wet, after all. They repeated their condolences, wishing him the best in his now meaningless life. But he stayed there, even when his older daughter told him that if he didn't move he'd catch a cold. He stood his ground, keeping guard on her tomb just like he had done in that cave so long ago.
He died a few days later.
He was buried right beside her; the star-crossed lovers, pulling a stunt once more. How their love was unfair, twisted and burned by the sharp claws of war and mindwash. They both were once heroes, now a legend to be passed through generations; to be twisted and turned, names soon forgotten, but essence never lost.
The End.
I honestly have no idea where this came from. I just started typing and this is the result, so. Have a gay day ^,^
Keep Running,
xoxo
-C
