By nightfall, except for Ioreth and Tarisilya, all helpers had left the royal chambers. They had done everything for Arwen they'd been able to, but such a blood loss just pushed you to your limits. Right now, they could just wait and those who couldn't make themselves useful for the moment, could only flee because it was too difficult, sitting in a room that people were already calling a death room on the quiet.

Fortunately, it wasn't as silent as one in here. The bubbling when a new concoction was brewed once more that was then poured down Arwen's throat or the throats of the children, by great efforts … Tarisilya's quiet singing that should help provide the children with healthful sleep, after the strains of the birth … Eldarion's occasional crying, sounding like a young kitten's screams, when the wet nurse was called inside once again so that he could make another one of his weak drinking attempts but had too little strength for it yet again ... The shrill clank of dishes when one of the servants brought food and new jugs of water …

What didn't happen was Arwen or her daughter stirring, or a delighted chortle from one of the children when they'd arduously drunk some tea and were lifted up so that they wouldn't choke. Not even encouragement from their father who was lost in his grief too much to do more than what was necessary. It was almost as if every sentence was a disturbing factor shattering the illusion that they'd soon hear at least Arwen's breathing turn stronger.

At some point, such an atmosphere dulled the senses. Only a discreet hint from Ioreth had Aragorn and Tarisilya realize, someone had knocked on the door. The healer could, of course, have looked who it was herself but not only was she was just preparing a new potion; apparently, she also thought, it was about high time for Aragorn to get up for a change.

But in the end, it was Tarisilya doing so instead. If the King was feeling so badly that he even ignored his duties, it was useless to try and force him into anything.

Besides, Tarisilya had already recognized the steps outside from afar. "Did something happen?"

"You mean, except for the servants carrying one full plate after the other from these chambers?" The answer was tense, a reproach unfortunately not completely unjustified.

"Come on." Tarisilya held the door open for Legolas with a sigh and sat down at the small table by the window. She had seldom been less hungry in her life. If she would have to throw up at some point though or collapse from a lack of nutrition, that wouldn't help Minuial.

She was looking around for Ioreth already to have the other healer hold the child for a moment and was surprised when Legolas took them from her instead, carefully pressing them against his chest with one arm while approaching Ioreth to arrange something with her. So her little sermon in the morning had helped.

It wasn't the first time for her to see her husband with a child, still, the image captured her gaze for a moment. Back then, it had been Legolas who had helped with the birth of the baby of two elves of their settlement. The little one was now 2 years old, she knew exactly who her favorite uncle was and often sought his proximity. Although it had used to be difficult for him, especially in the time when Tarisilya and Legolas had still been grieving for their first child that an attack by Uruk-hai in Rohan had once stolen from them, he had never let the girl feel that her presence was burdening him.

That he now managed to muster up the same strength for Minuial after all, in spite of his fears, had a flame of relief light Tarisilya's fear-filled heart. Though he could hardly say a word to the baby, he brought himself to give it the necessary warmth.

Another strict look back at her over Legolas' shoulder was necessary for Tarisilya to finally reach for a piece of bread and some sausage, to choke down at least a few bites for his sake.

Turning to the healer again, her husband nodded down at his belt that a small drinking bag was hanging from. "There's been a surprise message from Imladris. Lord Elrond learned about the last months' events and thought to offer a little support. He's unfortunately not yet here himself though the pigeon has already departed, but the Valar haven't robbed us of all their light yet. They've apparently made sure, his messenger arrived in Minas Tirith today of all times."

Her plate forgotten again already, Tarisilya hurried over to him and took the bag, unscrewing it with flying fingers. An unmistakable spicy smell infused the air. "He's sent Miruvor."

She turned her head to Aragorn excitedly; after all, this healing potion from Imladris could help better than any blanket and restore more energy than any healer was able to.

That the good news didn't even have the King look up quickly dampened her delight though. He'd probably realized the problem during Legolas' explanation already, faster than she had.

Miruvor was difficult to fabricate and was only rarely given to Secondborn. Therefore, the bottle was only small; the content wouldn't be enough to support both Arwen and the kids. After all, how could Elrond have known, he'd have to try and avert a catastrophe of such magnitude? Originally, the potion had probably only been meant to give strength to the two she-elves before the birth not bring back vital energy that was as good as gone.

So Aragorn remained silent, too, when Tarisilya could bring herself to ask, still staring stubbornly at his son in his arms. That seemed to be the only thing he was holding on to. He'd hardly said a word since the morning and hadn't managed to eat even one bite himself so far. The same tunic he'd worn at the meeting with a few unruly village leaders still stuck to his chest; his dark curls were a wild mess. He was far too much beside himself to want to have a heavy discussion right now.

Unfortunately, there was no choice. Together with Ioreth, Aragorn had prepared some strengthening broth made of Athelas that had been known among the Dúnedain for generations. But that mixture would have to brew for many more hours and was by far not as effective as the elvish potion. Whatever they would do now might decide over life and death. No matter how much she would have wanted to, this wasn't something Tarisilya could spare the King.

"Aragorn?"

"The two of us know best what Arwen would want, Ilya. Give it to the children." No matter how bad that decision must hurt, Aragorn's voice sounded completely flat. The fear for his family deprived him of all energy himself.

And he was right of course. Arwen would never have let them choose her life over her children's. If the Miruvor had allowed her to recover and the babies wouldn't survive instead, she could only have hated the life she'd have to live henceforth.

Tarisilya exhaled deeply and signaled Legolas to sit down at the table with Minuial. It took far too long, and no matter how careful she was, some of the precious drink still got lost since the baby didn't want to swallow, but she managed to pour some drops down the girl's throat at last. After repeating the procedure with Eldarion, she stored the bottle safely on her own belt. She nervously sat back down next to her husband, not taking Minuial back for now since the girl was still sleeping deeply.

It quickly became that silent once again; at some point, Tarisilya reached for the bread again without any enthusiasm. What she'd had earlier hadn't been enough for her own child; she still felt dizzy. She was choking on the first bite already.

Aragorn startled abruptly and got up.

Minuial was whining. And she was moving, though it was just a brief turn of her head. Grimacing, she wailed away quietly because she was missing the touch and the loving words that had accompanied her in the last few hours.

Aragorn gave his son to Ioreth in a haste and came to stand next to Legolas to watch the little one, timidly caressing their head. These beautiful chocolate brown eyes looked at him questioningly before Minuial started crying for the favorite aunt again that she'd apparently already chosen. It made Aragorn smile for the first time since Ranír had got him out of that meeting yesterday. This delicate being fought like a big cat for her heart to keep on beating. "It really helps."

"She seems to regain at least a little bit of strength," Tarisilya nodded. Reaching across the table, she lovingly touched the baby's cheek whereupon they turned calmer but only until she pulled her hand back.

"I don't think she likes me," Legolas realized with a small pout.

Aragorn just grinned weakly. Taking the baby from his friend, he stroked its back. When he whispered something to Minuial, she became silent and let her head rest against his chest. She was probably recognizing his voice and felt more secure with him. Careful to not wake the child that was already dozing off again, Aragorn sunk back down in his chair to continue watching over his wife.

At least he did no longer look like death himself now.


"By the way, Aragorn: Your guests left in a fit of anger." Legolas was visibly reluctant to deliver the message that Aragorn's chief advisor Verilas had asked him to bring, no doubt because he dared to come here even less right now. "The Steward tried his best but these people feel like you didn't take them seriously because they didn't have a chance to finish their conversation with you. I'm afraid, you haven't seen the last of them."

"Too bad. I would prefer them to stay away for good." Right now, there was nothing less interesting to Aragorn than unsatisfied farmers who didn't even have a real reason to complain. If a war had started outside these chambers, he couldn't have cared. Especially in the last few months, he had already sacrificed far too much for his duties. Time that he hadn't been able to spend with Arwen when she would have needed him for example, and that he might never be able to make up for now.

He closed his eyes in exhaustion that were burning with tears that just wouldn't come again and again. He felt just as helpless as back then when he'd had to say his last goodbye to his mother. Both of them back had felt that it would be a final farewell. While loneliness made many things easier, it didn't teach you how to let go. The way Gilraen had stared at him on that day still haunted his dreams sometimes. He'd seen a kind of pain in his mother's eyes that not even the elves could have healed who had hosted her with so much kindness and care in Imladris.

Back then, he'd made it out of sight just in time; then he'd sunk to the ground under a tree to stare into the snowy emptiness of the woods for days, hardly even hearing his step brothers' and stepfather's worried voices. In this room here, he could make just as little difference as back then.

The last thing he needed for that was an audience. "If you're here as a messenger, Legolas, please leave. What do I have substitutes for if they can't even do their work right when my wife or my kids may soon take their last breath? Go ahead, call me a bad King for being egoistic just for once."

Admittedly, it was the second time since yesterday already that Aragorn was venting his anger on Legolas, and again, the elf reacted more unfazed than anyone would have expected just a year. It was exactly this sobriety that Aragorn needed at that moment because he lacked it himself right now. That, far more than any peace offer, every public apology back then after the Stewardaides crisis, signaled that their friendship really seemed to recover at last.

"Not exactly. Look at this." Legolas reached out a scroll carrying the seal of Imladris to him. It was broken as the letter had been addressed to him as much as to the King. "It came with the potion. An invitation. He wants to see all of us in the valley as soon as traveling with the children is possible. They finally made a decision. The bearers of the Elven Rings of Power and Lord Celeborn will leave Middle-earth next fall."

"Arwen has also uttered the wish for a visit home not too long ago." While Tarisilya made sure to turn her head away, looking at her friend, you didn't need to know her as well as Legolas to sense how hard it was for her that her last close mentor from Lórien, Lady Galadriel, would already sail away so soon.

Planning a journey was actually not what Aragorn was in the mood for right now. But he owed it to his father-in-law to not completely ignore his good wishes. After all, the Miruvor might have indeed saved the twins.

When he opened the scroll, a thin, silver chain fell towards him. It was so short that it could only be meant for a child's neck. It had been threaded through a ring made of shining Mithril, with a longish turquoise jewel in its center and elvish writing on the inside. Naudaear. Aragorn immediately recognized one of the few jewels once belonging to Elrond's wife that the Lord had kept when Celebrían had made her way to Aman all these centuries ago.

His foster father treated these few keepsakes like a precious treasure. That he wanted to give one of them to the child, moved Aragorn deeply. While he'd often used to fear that Arwen's decision would create an incurable rift between his foster father and him, now at the latest he realized that Elrond was worrying about him and his family so much that he wanted to establish a connection between them and these elves who would soon leave Middle-earth behind. According to this letter, the jewel was supposed to help the children remember the elf who had once raised their father and whom they would never consciously meet.

Aragorn sat down at the edge of the bed and carefully grabbed Arwen's arm. The necklace was still too heavy for the delicate neck of one of the twins, but it fitted around their mother's wrist perfectly. It was of course lacking the magic of one of the Rings of Power but it was a comforting thought that in this terrible hour, his wife was carrying something with her that showed much their offspring meant to her father.

Aragorn could just keep on praying that this newly created life would actually have a future.


It took almost half an hour, convincing Tarisilya that even a she-elf needed some sleep at some point, especially one in her condition. By the time, Legolas had finally managed to get her to her chambers in the guesthouse of the King and into bed, another hour had passed. What the children needed right now, their father, Ioreth, and the wet nurse could give them, too. They wouldn't be doing any worse just because Tarisilya was gone for a while.

Only after Legolas had assured her several times that he would get her immediately if something unexpected happened, Tarisilya gave in to the tiredness in her body and fell asleep in his arms.

Unnerved from the debate, Legolas headed straight back to Arwen's chambers, and not only because he had promised Tarisilya to make sure, everything was in order while she was away. Now that he had finally managed to overcome his reluctance, he wanted to try himself, too, to be there as much for two of his best friends and their offspring.

He was close to turning right back though when he opened the bedroom door and Aragorn welcomed him with angrily glowing eyes.

Of course, his friend's nerves were raw as well, but the last few days and weeks hadn't left Legolas cold either. He wasn't sure if his shields were strong enough to dodge another verbal hit impassively. "Ilya isn't feeling too well. She's been having trouble breathing for weeks. If she doesn't take a break, she'll be the next who needs treatment. She'll be back as soon as possible."

"Where is Ioreth?" It was as if Aragorn hadn't even heard him. He looked past him by a whisker, staring at the door while carefully laying Minuial down on the soft blankets next to Arwen for the moment.

Eldarion was already being asleep by Arwen's other side. The little ones were meant to feel their mother's presence as closely as possible.

It was the comfort of the very same nearness that Aragorn was, unfortunately, missing now. "That's all I need to know right now. I'm not blind though everyone suddenly seems to think so. That two children might not make it through this night is bad enough. I don't want it to be three. Your wife needs to realize when she has to step away herself, or it's up to you to make her. I'm just interested in why the leader of the Houses of Healing doesn't think it necessary to be around." He sounded as if he would storm out of the room any second to search for Ioreth himself. Only the fear that something could happen in his absence held him back.

Legolas had to bite his tongue, hard, to keep himself from also getting loud.

Aragorn didn't even see that everyone around here was trying to stand by his side right now while completely ignoring their own wellbeing. Especially Faramir had been doing everything in his power to go easy on Aragorn ever since yesterday, and all the healers worked double shifts to provide Arwen and the children with potion by potion that were supposed to help, hopefully.

But since he didn't want there to be even more that the King would have to apologize for afterward, Legolas rather focused on offering his friend what little support Aragorn could accept right now himself. "When did she go?"

"Right after you did. She allegedly just meant to look up another potion in the library. And now she apparently thinks, she has to turn that into a walk through the city." Aragorn looked at one of the burned-down candles in the room in irritation.

"A bit of cold air can only do her good right now. She's been here the whole time," Legolas quietly admonished his friend now after all. Not everyone had a Firstborn's endurance and their durable patience, especially not a healer who in spite of all resoluteness was quite aged already. "Give her a moment to breathe."

"We don't have time for this!" Aragorn ran to the window angrily, to take a look around the courtyard. "This is about my wife's life! If Ioreth can't do this, she shall let someone else cover for her here. She wanted the responsibility for all the healers in the city; well, then she needs to be reliable at least! I can't take misguided ambitions into consideration right now, I just told you that."

"Misg… Aragorn." Legolas came to stand behind him and grabbed his shoulder almost painfully firmly. He was aware of course that the King was in the right mood to physically attack him if he irritated him too much. At the beginning of their acquaintance, they'd been there more than once, in numerous training duels in Mirkwood, and it hadn't only been Aragorn who'd often limped to the healers ruefully afterward. But maybe that was exactly what his friend needed right now to realize that he was letting his pain become control him too much. Legolas said his words slowly, in the language of his people, with heavy pronunciation of every single syllable, to at least try and get through to his friend.

"Blaming people for wearing themselves out to the point of exhaustion for you two won't help Arwen. We all need our strength right now. Don't waste yours pointlessly."

"I don't need anyone telling me how to handle this!" With a hard jerk, Aragorn managed to break away. Spinning around, he stared at Legolas furiously. "Especially not people who have no idea how it is to be in this situation."

"And I don't?" Legolas made no move to touch Aragorn again; instead, he braced himself on the windowsill next to him with both hands. His shoulders tensed; restraint was becoming more difficult by the second. "Your mind is clouded by worry. I don't blame you for that. But choose your words more carefully, please. You're forgetting that I've already had to spend many nights by the sickbeds of beloved beings myself, no matter if it was my father, my mother, or my own wife. And the hope for them to be saved was not always fulfilled. You still have it. I'm praying that you will never know the same grief Ilya and I once had to bear, of having to say goodbye to your own child."

Aragorn already had a bitter laugh on his lips; then he just shook his head. "That I can't lose hope says you who gave up immediately when your wife fought for her life in the war? I certainly do not want to belittle your pain. I've almost had to go through it myself during Arwen's pregnancy after all. But if the children don't survive … Then it isn't just a shattered dream. These babies have names. I could touch them and have them on my arm. I looked into their eyes. There's something for me to bury if Eldarion and Minuial won't be strong enough after all. I will see their faces in my head every day of my life. Believe me, I'm glad you've at least been spared this torture."

Legolas' hands clenched so hard around the window sill that his knuckles cracked audibly. It was only the memory of this terrible argument after his peoples' death in the Dead Marshes that kept him from letting Aragorn know how hurtful every single of his words had just been. Legolas had had many months to regret what he had brought about for a while. He didn't want another rift like that between them especially since the last wasn't even completely healed yet.

But Aragorn had just opened exactly the one wound inside of him that hurt the most and that would never really heal. If Legolas had tried to respond with anything else, the anger would have broken out with all its strength. Without another glance at Aragorn, he left the room.

"I'll send Ioreth the moment I see her. Tell the guard at the door if anything happens before she's back. Ilya and I are close by." There wasn't anything else he could do right now.


"I didn't even realize, there are still people using this place to retire." Faramir had to raise his voice a little to be heard in spite of the strong wind in the Citadel forecourt and the distance to his conversation partner. Legolas had never seen him stand right at the wall of the lookout. The Prince would probably never be able to approach it again. Though they said, there hadn't been much left connecting him to his father in the end, the knowledge must weigh too heavily that this was the place where Denethor had taken his own life.

"That's the best part about it, Steward. Usually, I'm being undisturbed here." Legolas knew that he was sounding impolite but well, that wasn't exactly unusual for them. So far, not even Éowyn's empathic efforts had managed to calm the waves completely. Faramir's short lifespan would probably not leave them enough time to forgive each other's faults in the Stewardaides Crisis.

Besides, after the fight with Aragorn, Legolas was lacking every sense of diplomacy. Actually, he just wanted to sit on the ice-cold white rocks for a few minutes right now, staring out into the night before he could go back to his watch over the Queen and the kids.

Faramir had an uncanny talent for showing up in moments like this. He either was too exhausted from all the work to notice that or he didn't care about the dismissal in Legolas' voice. Probably both.

"The city is falling into unrest. Ever since Aragorn's coronation, people see a rule constantly exposed to danger. It would be fatal if the Stewardaides would succeed with their last big uproar of all things. Then it would all start over again." The young man forced himself to take another step towards Legolas but paused again immediately and wrapped his thick woolen cloak tighter around his body.

"The healers are doing everything they can." Legolas felt his stomach clench. Faramir had surely not come to see him without a reason.

Aragorn was probably the only one not blaming Tarisilya. People in the Houses of Healing relied on the she-elf who'd saved so many already. Many people had to wonder why she was leaving the King alone in this difficult hour of all times. Given the tense relationship between Elves and Men, all it took for the mood to worsen again was one spark.

"Are they? All of them?"

"This is not up for discussion, Steward." Legolas was quickly getting sick of the subtle provocation. Now he jumped down from the wall after all and strode back to the buildings.

Faramir accompanied him without even asking, trying in vain to catch his gaze. The fake calmness he'd had to show the advisors and the people in the last few hours had left him for the moment. His hands were clenched tightly around the seam of his dark Steward robe. The first lines of age around his pale eyes and the corners of his mouth revealed how much the situation was burdening him as well.

"You know your wife better than I do so it is not up to me to judge how much she is capable of. But I happened to hear your conversation when you brought her to your chambers. It seems, the only one standing between the Princess and some possibly essential healing right now is you."

Legolas only accelerated his steps, almost storming past the guards at the guesthouse entrance, towards the chambers that he'd actually not meant to enter anymore tonight, so to not disturb Tarisilya's rest. Apparently, that was the only place right now where no one would blame him for things that he couldn't change.

"When you'll carry the responsibility for your own flesh and blood someday, Steward, you'll hopefully see that differently."

Relieved that Faramir at least stopped harassing him, he closed the door of the chambers behind him shortly afterward and entered the bedroom as quietly as possible.

He had to realize immediately that Tarisilya could only have fallen asleep a few minutes ago. A red book that Legolas knew only too well lay beside her on the bed; her hand still was resting on the open page. Her full lips were distorted in a pained expression. Tracks of tears marked her roundish cheeks.

Although Legolas took the book away as carefully as possible, Tarisilya startled immediately and turned her head his way as if he'd woken her up by force, watching silently as he put her most precious possession into her bedside table. Except for an image that she had once gotten from Legolas' father, in the shape of that gem on her bracelet, this was the only memory of her mother … But right now, not even that could give her any comfort, it was only producing even more feelings of darkness.

"I wanted to go back," she admitted when Legolas brushed her thick bangs back, looking down at her questioningly. "I just couldn't sleep. But when I got up …" She didn't need to tell him what had happened. Her jerky words and how she was trying to take a deep breath again and again but then just exhaled them with a hiss said it all. "I'm too weak. I can't do anything …"

"You've already achieved much more than anyone asked you to. And you'll be able to continue soon." With one arm wrapped around Tarisilya's waist, Legolas helped her sit up and lay one hand on her upper body, on the spot between the throat and chest, the way his wife had shown him herself not too long ago in the course of their occasional healing training lessons. It took him only a few seconds of concentrating, with his eyes closed, to realize that it was worse than expected. At least for the moment, Tarisilya would definitely not be going anywhere. "You need to try and breathe deeper, at least when you're awake. I know it hurts, elwen, but there's no choice. I'm afraid, otherwise, you'll get seriously sick."

"It doesn't hurt yet." She put her hand on his soothingly but then pushed it away. "It's the memory of how nana died that hurts, and the vision of how history will repeat itself. And no one believing me doesn't exactly make it easier."

"Believe what, Ilya?" Though he feared another argument, Legolas reacted with annoyance. He just couldn't listen to this doom-mongering any longer, not tonight when another she-elf he loved was in far more concrete danger.

"You're having problems that most she-elves in your condition are going through. Between us, you're the healer, and I'm sure you've seen more pregnancies in your life than I did. Do you really need me to tell you that many she-elves don't even make it out of bed anymore in the eleventh month? You've been so hopeful when you had the baby on your arm, weren't you? Do you really have to start summoning a catastrophe again now that's only existing in your head so far?"

"That was before my own body betrayed me," Tarisilya answered with just as much irritation, her big green brown eyes clearly narrowing.

"And if Arwen dies, or the children, and I couldn't help … Do you actually think that burden will be easier to bear just because I didn't have to watch?" Angrier by the word, Tarisilya tried to get some distance between them, to swing her legs over the side of the bed, but neither her belly nor her breathlessness allowed that. The helplessness of that situation upset her even more. Tears were already streaming down her cheeks again. Yet after a moment of resistance, she allowed Legolas to take her in his arms until her sobbing subsided.

"I hate this," she finally murmured against his shoulder. "I've cried enough for a whole lifetime. Let's just not talk about it anymore, elwen. Alright? This is about my past, my family." She raised her arm for a moment so that Legolas could see, she was once more wearing Thranduil's gift that he'd just been thinking about. "Everyone who knew her in person knew about her fate, and her fate is mine." Her voice became ever quieter and quieter; now the tiredness returned after all. "Some things are true even if you don't want to believe in them. I can only hope for the grace of the Valar."

Legolas didn't answer. This burden of her fears had already Tarisilya troubled for far too long to change anything about it within a few years, no matter how often he'd tried. She finally had to get rid of this poisoned apple. Maybe it really took the strains of the upcoming birth itself before she could do that.

But for now, this was still about two of their closest friends who needed their help. Sighing soundlessly, he helped her lay back down. "I'll wake you up as soon as you have recovered a little. Then we go back."

Her grateful smile made the short argument forgotten. "I don't even know how you manage to put up with me," Tarisilya murmured faintly before her mind slipped into the darkness of sleep again.

Legolas put his hand tenderly on her belly. "I hope you don't understand much of these stupid things yet that you have to hear us say, él."

No matter how silly it had seemed in the beginning, talking into silence, by now, it had become natural for Tarisilya and him to talk to their child. For him, that had been a big step. The fear of losing this child as well was always at the back of his head. But by now, neither of them could even imagine any else but filling their time together with these precious moments when they were talking to their baby, singing to it, and telling them about the life waiting for them. When the child actually answered then, even if it was just the tiniest movement under Tarisilya's skin, everything was alright at least for a moment.

But today nothing stirred under her bright nightgown. The baby obviously shared their mother's sadness.

Legolas glumly pressed his lips together. This had to stop. Maybe he could make sure that the situation would soon improve at least a little after all.

When he went back to Aragorn, he took some paper and ink from Tarisilya's desk with him. At least that way, he could make good use of the time of the night watch.

When he entered the room again, Aragorn didn't have more than an irritated look to spare for him, probably because Legolas hadn't brought back his wife him.

Ioreth was at least back by now. You could see immediately that she had been crying.

In spite of his anger quickly flaring new, Legolas sat down by Arwen's other side. Someone finally had to do something against this unbearable silence in here at least. After short consideration, he quietly started to sing a song of his people, one of reverence and of pleading for the soul.

Aragorn didn't show a real reaction but Legolas thought to see that look in his eyes change a little. As cruel as it was, his friend was starting to accept the expected pain bit by bit and let it enter his mind that he might soon lead a life of loneliness once more.

Only this time, he wouldn't have chosen it himself. This time it would break him.