Of All the Crimson Roses
IMBSA: Yet another Lady Une/Trieze fic from me, even though my last one got, what, one review? Eh, it's nothing.
Disclaimer: Note to self: Ignore everything my psychologist says because psychologist is an idiot.
IMBSA: Just a pointless drabblefic on my part….
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I loved him.
Trieze Kushrenada was one of the most enigmatic men I have ever known. He was as unpredictable as the moody seas, with but a few established certainties about him. He could surprise and shock me with the brutality with which he handled me sometimes, yet also thrill and exhilarate me when he was gentle and kind.
Many say that ours was a case of dominant-submissive love, but I truly doubt that that was so. While he could possess me in an almost violent manner at times, for the most part, I was just as much in control as he was. And even then, I wanted everything he did to me.
I do not pretend to ignore the...eccentricities of his ideas. I knew very well form the start that he was crazy. He was a genius, to be sure, but ingenuity seems to walk hand-in-hand with insanity.
I loved him anyway.
I loved him even when he seemed incapable of loving me. I sullied my hands with blood and tainted my soul with darkness and hate, all willingly, for just a kind word or look from him. I even developed split personalities, such was my desire to please him.
He made me what I am.
I suppose he and I are not too far in our differences. I have become him and left my other self in the depths of my subconscious.
Am I crazy for my love, my passions, my ideals, the fires that burn in my long divided heart? If so, than Trieze did a better job of changing me and molding me than even he realized. Maybe I've changed more than he would have liked.
I don't know, and I never will. He never truly let me into the labyrinth of complexities that was his being. I'll never truly know anything about him.
But what I do know, as I stand before the grave stone that serves as a memorial to him, is that I will always and forever love Trieze Kushrenada.
Even in death.
