I don't want to end up with twenty something chapters (even though it
probably will be . . . the never ending stoooooryyy. . . lalalalalala.
Haha, anyways, I decided to make the chapters longer. Which was the point
of this little note thingy.
***
Van watched as Hitomi lay motionless on his bed. She looked so frail, and he was overcome at once by the fear that he would lose her forever. His depression grew darker as he dwelled upon his past actions, knowing them to be the reason for Hitomi's collapse. He was afraid to touch her again, in case that would drive her from him more surely, but he longed to hold her against him, to feel her lean into his embrace. For he had also felt, along with her horror at his murder, that first flash of joy. That joy was his hope.
He gazed at her intently, knowing inside that something was wrong with her, that she wasn't healing for a reason. He looked closer, and closer, ignoring the doctors murmuring around him. His hand was a breath away from her throat when she convulsed, her muscles becoming tight with an inner tension. In panic, he grabbed her to him, and held her as she screamed, letting her pain siphon into him. Her eyes were wild, blank, seeing something that no one else could, and her arms stayed pinned at her sides, as if invisible bonds held them there. She screamed then, a sound so bestial and furious that it the very foundation of the castle shook with it, and in the forest, the dragons cringed away, without knowing why.
She gasped suddenly, and fell limp in his arms. A doctor rushed over to her. He was young and idealistic, healing every person without fail to the best of his ability. His kind eyes showed pity to the king whom he feared with every fiber of his being.
"Milord, she has lost so much blood, and is so thin. We must give her some living, healthy blood or we will lose her." He said it all softly, though he looked the king strait in the eyes, so that he would know the truth of his words.
"So be it," van said. His voice held the suppressed passion of all these years. He pulled up the tattered sleeve on his right arm.
"Milord! You mustn't, we don't know how she will react to your . . . heritage" the doctor gulped, fearing the wrath of his king. But Van just shook his head, and smiled. He would never do anything to hurt her; nothing made of him would hurt her, not his bone, not his blood.
"Use my blood," he said in a voice so soft and full of love that it brooked no argument. His eyes met every doctor's in that room and one after one they looked down. Van thought to himself, in those quiet moments, that perhaps saving Hitomi could redeem him.
So the doctors gathered around him, gently pushing, him into place, with the quiet acceptance of the inevitable that doctors show in times where they don't have hope. They drove needles into his skin, his neck, his arms, and connected it all to Hitomi.
The doctors didn't think she would survive.
They hadn't counted on the power of Van's love, or on Hitomi's will to survive so that she could see Van once more.
Van had held the pendant wrapped around his wrist while he sat and watched over Hitomi the long night before, and now it fell between their palms as he reached for her hand. He didn't notice the drop of blood sliding between their palms, even as he said "I give myself, Van de Fanel, king of Fanelia, to love you and be thy beloved, my dear Hitomi."
Hidden in shadow, no one saw the pendant's slight pulse being absorbed by the skin of both, like water falling on a dry sponge. It was erratic at first, then stronger, barely dimming between beats. Finally a bright red flashed covered the two bodies in a ruby glow that slowly faded, pulsing as one.
The young idealistic doctor witnessing this miracle realized it first. The pulse was a heartbeat. Two heartbeats, in perfect time with each other.
Suddenly Hitomi moved. She reached up a hand, and stared with heavy, but glad eyes into Van's, and stroked his cheek. Her fingers felt like the barest touch of feathers on his skin, but those eyes struck him like lightning, cleansing him to the depths of his soul. She had forgiven him. He rejoiced before falling asleep. He was forgiven. . .
***
Van watched as Hitomi lay motionless on his bed. She looked so frail, and he was overcome at once by the fear that he would lose her forever. His depression grew darker as he dwelled upon his past actions, knowing them to be the reason for Hitomi's collapse. He was afraid to touch her again, in case that would drive her from him more surely, but he longed to hold her against him, to feel her lean into his embrace. For he had also felt, along with her horror at his murder, that first flash of joy. That joy was his hope.
He gazed at her intently, knowing inside that something was wrong with her, that she wasn't healing for a reason. He looked closer, and closer, ignoring the doctors murmuring around him. His hand was a breath away from her throat when she convulsed, her muscles becoming tight with an inner tension. In panic, he grabbed her to him, and held her as she screamed, letting her pain siphon into him. Her eyes were wild, blank, seeing something that no one else could, and her arms stayed pinned at her sides, as if invisible bonds held them there. She screamed then, a sound so bestial and furious that it the very foundation of the castle shook with it, and in the forest, the dragons cringed away, without knowing why.
She gasped suddenly, and fell limp in his arms. A doctor rushed over to her. He was young and idealistic, healing every person without fail to the best of his ability. His kind eyes showed pity to the king whom he feared with every fiber of his being.
"Milord, she has lost so much blood, and is so thin. We must give her some living, healthy blood or we will lose her." He said it all softly, though he looked the king strait in the eyes, so that he would know the truth of his words.
"So be it," van said. His voice held the suppressed passion of all these years. He pulled up the tattered sleeve on his right arm.
"Milord! You mustn't, we don't know how she will react to your . . . heritage" the doctor gulped, fearing the wrath of his king. But Van just shook his head, and smiled. He would never do anything to hurt her; nothing made of him would hurt her, not his bone, not his blood.
"Use my blood," he said in a voice so soft and full of love that it brooked no argument. His eyes met every doctor's in that room and one after one they looked down. Van thought to himself, in those quiet moments, that perhaps saving Hitomi could redeem him.
So the doctors gathered around him, gently pushing, him into place, with the quiet acceptance of the inevitable that doctors show in times where they don't have hope. They drove needles into his skin, his neck, his arms, and connected it all to Hitomi.
The doctors didn't think she would survive.
They hadn't counted on the power of Van's love, or on Hitomi's will to survive so that she could see Van once more.
Van had held the pendant wrapped around his wrist while he sat and watched over Hitomi the long night before, and now it fell between their palms as he reached for her hand. He didn't notice the drop of blood sliding between their palms, even as he said "I give myself, Van de Fanel, king of Fanelia, to love you and be thy beloved, my dear Hitomi."
Hidden in shadow, no one saw the pendant's slight pulse being absorbed by the skin of both, like water falling on a dry sponge. It was erratic at first, then stronger, barely dimming between beats. Finally a bright red flashed covered the two bodies in a ruby glow that slowly faded, pulsing as one.
The young idealistic doctor witnessing this miracle realized it first. The pulse was a heartbeat. Two heartbeats, in perfect time with each other.
Suddenly Hitomi moved. She reached up a hand, and stared with heavy, but glad eyes into Van's, and stroked his cheek. Her fingers felt like the barest touch of feathers on his skin, but those eyes struck him like lightning, cleansing him to the depths of his soul. She had forgiven him. He rejoiced before falling asleep. He was forgiven. . .