In war, victory.
He was down. They all were. The Archdemon flailed, wounded, slowed, but alive.
He'd felt the other Warden scramble to his feet, begin a rush toward their enemy. Voice gone he tried, but only wheezed grief and fear as he watched his ally, friend, love, fulfil his duty.
Their duty.
In peace, vigilance.
The king jerked awake, throat raw from the cry that ever came too late. Alone in the darkness he let the tears fall, allowed himself to burn with the regret that none who had not been there that day could understand.
In death, sacrifice.