Ta-da! Here is our (MM and Jennistar) joint fanfic! (Finally) Okay, here goes.

You know...
You pray...
This can't be the way
You cry...
You say...
Something's gotta change
And mend this porcelain heart
Of mine...

-BarlowGirl, Porcelain Heart

Maerad wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer and closer to herself, aching to feel his hands on her, his lips moving strongly against her own, just as he had on that day in the battle. He accepted the embrace, and wrapped his arms around her, and she shivered slightly.

But then suddenly came the memories, as she had dreaded they would: overwhelming, powerful images that made her inner core tremble with fright. She shuddered as they came, faster and faster, taking over her senses until all she knew was the darkness within. She saw Hem, falling to the ground, a poisoned arrow in his side. Saliman clutching his wounded arm and staring up in despair at the blackened sky. Against the sky she saw the Iron Tower, and figures falling all around the blood-spattered walls to lie ever still on the ground. Then she saw the Nameless, who stood before her in all his divine, yet evil and unearthly power, grinning and illuminated by the fell light of the purest evil, ready to strike her down until she was nothing more, nothing more...

She screamed in her horror and anguish and wrenched herself away from him, and then collapsed on the ground, sobbing. Would she ever be able to will away those memories that came with her lover's fatal kiss? She longed to be able to feel him without those mind-numbing images controlling her; images that would forever haunt her dreams. She wanted to will away the blood on her hands that made her unable to kiss him, love him as she should...they should...

Maerad felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Cadvan. His eyes were sad. Not another word could describe them. Simply...sad.

"Cadvan..." she coughed, "I...I'm sorry..."

"Don't be," he whispered. "'Tis not your fault that memories extinguish our..." he trailed off, and Maerad knew what he meant. Their love. Oh, that wretched, wretched day that he had first kissed her, the day in battle, she hadn't thought of what would happen next. She hadn't thought about how his love (and their first love, their first kiss) would be remembered as something horror-filled and terrifying, simply because of all that had happened on that day. She hadn't realized that she would never be able to tell him of her love again, just because she had killed, and seen people killed, on that day.

Maerad realized this all in the blink of an eye, and felt her heart sink down into her stomach, where it lay there, thumping madly and in protest of all she was about to do.

"I love you," she said, and with that came the memories again. She willed them away with massive effort and mental strength, and turned back to him, her eyes wide and tear-filled in her misery.

"I can't do it, Cadvan," she whispered, looking down at her trembling hands. "I can never say...those words, to you. I can never kiss you, touch you..."

"...because of what happened in battle," he finished in a hoarse whisper, his own palms sweating. "Maerad, surely you can't..."

"But I must," she breathed, and then looked back up. "Cadvan, we must. We must go our separate ways."

She stood beside Darsor a few days later, stroking the great horse's head.

Protect him, my friend, she said.

But of course, Lady Maerad.

She smiled through her tears. Thank you.

He nickered, and she looked into his liquid eyes, so dark and mournful in their usual ebony gaze which was now so mystifying and troubled. We must, she told him firmly, answering his unasked question.

He looked away, and didn't answer. She didn't expect him to.

Then Cadvan came around from tying the bags onto the saddle, and faced her. Their hair blew around their faces softly in the gentle breeze, and they stood like two grave figures in a time-stopped world upon the grassy hill as the sun set slowly across the western horizon, blazing the skies with gold and pink, then fading to a star-filled night near the edges of the world. Then suddenly he seized her hands; but she was quicker and looked away as he leaned forwards, so he only grazed the edges of her neck with his lips, making them want each other even more. She looked back at him, drawing away.

He smiled weakly. "I had to try."

"You know it's for the best," she said painfully, hating the words with every sound they made as they were issued from her deceitful lips.

He only looked away, as Darsor had. Both horse and man didn't think it was right. And, somewhere inside her troubled heart, Maerad knew it wasn't as well. But she had to do it. For herself. For Cadvan. For them, and for all of Edil-Amarandh.

"Besides," she said in a strangled voice, "I'll write every week."

"Every week?" he raised a quizzical eyebrow.

"Yes," she said, the edges of her lips quirking into a small smile. "And you will, too?" she questioned.

"Of course. It'll be like being here with you," he said softly as he mounted up. She could only nod. He looked down at her, a noble figure upon his black-coated horse, but his eyes were pleading, like a child's. But she shook her head ever so slightly, and he sighed once more, tipped his head in farewell, and cantered away. She watched him fade into the haze of distance as the pain in her heart grew, like a knife being pushed deeper and deeper into one's ribs. She put her hands to her breast, as if to weakly attempt to stop the chill beating of her dull heart, for surely it did no good now.

She couldn't bear the pain of watching him leave her, and turned to walk back to Innail, the fresh tears streaming down her cheeks openly now; she didn't care who saw.

Almost like being there with you, but not quite.

so sweet...chappie one up soon! Even though we are the queens of procrastination. :D