There was banging on the door – it was much too late at night for this, it must have been an emergency. Flustered, he ran towards it, throwing it open –
"Lady Sibyl – "
"There's nothing that can be done." She spoke it slowly, quietly, as if telling him made it real. "You – you have to go."
He nodded – she had truly believed that she could save him from this fate? Truly thought that there was a chance? His heart hurt. "Yes."
"It...it actually has to..." She looked almost if she were about to collapse.
"Come in, sit down." Damn propriety, damn it all.
She did – simply dressed as she was, he couldn't help but wonder if she had just pulled the nearest dress over her night gown. Lucky he had been up late reading, or –
Well. It didn't really bear thinking about.
"I...but you can't go." She sounded so weak like that, and he could almost hear his heart breaking – and her heart, too? "You can't. You just can't."
"I have to." He said quietly, sitting down beside her – the small table was big enough for one, cosy for two. "I searched for a good reason, but I don't have one – at least, not in the eyes of the law." His hand found hers, tethering her to reality, to him.
She stared at him, wild-eyed. "But it simply isn't fair."
He squeezed her hand. "I hate to say it, but life isn't fair." He felt like he was breaking her – perhaps he should've been, perhaps he should've tried to break her heart, set her free from him.
He wasn't a strong enough man to do that; he wasn't strong enough to break himself, too.
"When do you leave?"
"Too soon."
She smiled weakly – a shadow of her former smile. "It will always be too soon."
"Next week." He informed her gently, hating himself as that fragile smile shattered, as she shattered, as she flung her arms around him and wept bitterly.
He didn't speak – neither said a word for the rest of that night, her arms around him, him gently smoothing her hair. The minutes felt like hours, until she finally let go of him, standing – she had to leave.
He walked her to the door, threw caution to the wind, stopped caring about any of it – he pressed his lips to hers, felt her arms cling to him, held her slim form against his body, wondered if he'd ever know this again.
He released her earlier than he wished to – if he didn't release her then, he knew he never would, he knew that things would happen that could not be undone.
From the look in her eyes, she would be only happy to undo herself – no. He couldn't. He mustn't. He was stronger than that (he was too weak for it).
He watched her leave, slipping back to a world he'd never know.