A/N: This is set pre-1x10, maybe even pre Series 1. I wrote this for a fellow fan, Legendary, over at The Heart of Camelot.
Broken
Love was cruel.
It was unexpected. It was tempting. It was euphoric.
But it was also brutal.
It broke the heart into pieces. It pierced the soul so thoroughly it rendered it irreparable. And yet, love was an emotion so strong, that it could never be fought against. Once you had loved, you will always love.
He knew that very well.
He could never forget her. He would never let himself forget her. The woman who had opened his heart to happiness had broken him. He had all but worshipped her. She had become the centre of his very existence. When she entered his life he had questioned how he had been living without her. When she said yes, there was never a man so blessed. When she broke him, there was never a man so cursed.
She betrayed him. Perhaps, he betrayed her too?
No. Love had betrayed them both.
Even after all these years, when he finds himself clutching her locket, he can almost pretend that nothing had changed. That he was still a young Comte with his beautiful Comtesse by his side, together for as long as they both breathed. But then, as he stared at the blue forget-me-nots, they changed from beautiful and serene, to cold and harsh. The stark reality would announce itself so fast it would leave him reeling. And he would remember the blood on the floor...the unmoving body...the torn clothes...the shattered peace...his broken heart.
Now, he lived with the acceptance that she would forever remain in his damaged heart, intertwined with his past, present, and future. He would never be able to let go.
Love was eternal.
It was bitter. It was ruthless. It was unforgiving.
It was cruel.