Always, Only – A one-shot about a love lost, and the final journey past it.
Myles was drunk. Again. But this time, it was in the privacy of his rooms. Today wasn't just any day. Today was the day he wanted to sleep through, but instead drank through as much of as he could. He bolted the door and sat down in his chair, a worn piece of parchment in his hands. He stared at it for a moment, frowning, brow furrowed. He ran his fingers over the paper before slowly, tenderly, opening it. And he read the words – the last words.
I love you, and I will see you shortly. I miss you.
A tear rolled down his cheek, leaving yet another wet spot on the page. It had been years – more years than he cared to remember. Yet it still stung, every day. It was a constant, nagging pain. A dull ache in the pit of his stomach.
He could still see her, that bright smile, the soft brown curls… her image was burned into his memory. He could hear her laugh as they poured over history books. There was no one before her, and he could hardly imagine anyone coming after her. Years. So many years. Back then, they imagined growing old together, going gray together, having children together… He could imagine giving up his bachelor lifestyle for her. Always her, only her.
They met right after his Ordeal. She came to Court, the quietest girl in her year. He liked her immediately – they met in the library, after all. They spent many hours pouring over the books there, touching hands once in a while, until, finally, he began courting her. He expected to marry her, and she would have said yes.
A year went by. She went off to visit family down the coast. They took a boat, and hit a storm. Her father approached him in the hall one day, eyes swollen with tears. He didn't have to say a word. Myles collapsed into tears. Those tears diluted his first, second, fifth, tenth drinks. He drank to erase the pain, the sorrow, the unbearable loneliness. He was never alone, not really, but he felt it. There was no one quite like her.
He took another drink, running his finger over the line. The one line. The last line she wrote to him. When she left, she kissed him with the promise, "I'll write more." If she did, they were lost to the waves. When she left, they naively assumed they had forever to write each other, forever to share their knowledge, forever together. But forever was fleeting, more fleeting than either of them realized. Losing her made him acutely aware of his own mortality, even as a scholarly knight, not a combat one.
Myles sighed, leaning his head back against the chair. He closed his eyes, allowing images of her to dance across his eyelids, hearing the softness of her voice in his ears. If he focused hard enough, he could feel her hair in between his fingers, feel her lips on his. "I miss you," he whispered to the empty room, holding onto the paper that much tighter.
Summoning all the strength in his legs, he rose and walked cautiously over to the fire. He looked between the letter and the flames. "I'll always miss you." He kissed the page and dropped it in. "Goodbye, Julia." He watched through blurry tears as the edges folded, and her elegant calligraphy turned into nothing more than ashes. He had more to live for now.
Somewhere, he hoped his Julia was smiling down on him.
She had such a beautiful smile.
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Clearly, this story is not within what we know about Myles. But I had this idea of a lost love. Beyond that, it holds some level of personal meaning for me. Goodbyes are all important, especially to ones we care about, or once cared about. The final goodbye is always the hardest. While coming up with this story, I was thinking of both "Need You Now" by Lady Antebellum and "Barriers" by David Archuleta. I dedicate this song to my own personal weakness, who I have never managed to say that final goodbye to, and to all the people who have a hard time saying goodbye for the last time, whether it be to the living or the dead.