Character Appreciation: loyal

Showtime, I Dreamed a Dream: love is blind

Pokemon, Lucius: spirit, quill, breeze

Word Count: 402


The breeze whips her blonde hair against her face, but Narcissa stands tall, waiting. She has been waiting for Lucius to return for months, and there has finally been whispers of a great escape.

Sometimes, she wonders if she should have stayed at all. Even though she has been raised with beliefs about blood purity, she has never been quite as fanatical as Lucius. If she's honest, Narcissa doesn't particularly care about blood status, but she would never dare admit that aloud, not after Andromeda.

Lucius' arrest should have made it easy to leave. If anything, it had made it harder. Even if Draco hadn't been forced to follow his father's footsteps, Narcissa couldn't have left. By now, her own life has become some tangled with her husband's that she isn't sure how to escape this web.

And yet, deep down inside, she knows she wouldn't have left. Love is blind, and it has made it so easy for her to become complacent, for her to overlook his flaws and accept him so completely. She could never stray, even if she wanted to.

Footsteps draw her out of her thoughts. Lucius approaches her, and her heart breaks. Azkaban has not been kind to him. His blond hair is matter and thinning. His face, once handsome and angular, is gaunt, and dark circles rim his eyes. A smile tugs at his chapped lips, and he winces when they crack and bleed from the effort.

"Cissa," he croaks. "You stayed."

"Of course," she says holding him close and trying not to notice how she can feel his bones through his robe. "I'm your wife. Let's get you a bath drawn up."

She leads him inside, blinking back tears. Her husband is so quiet, so small. It does not suit the man she had fallen love with, the man with such a larger than life personality. Azkaban has crushed his spirit. Narcissa wonders if there's any hope of restoring it.

Lucius pauses here and there, looking at everything as though it's his first time to see it. He picks up a quill, scowling as he fumbles with it. "I don't know how I'll get my life back," he confesses.

Narcissa moves to his side, taking him gently by the hands. "We'll figure it out," she assures him.

His shaky palm rests against her cheek, and he kisses her forehead. "You'll stay with me?"

"Of course."