Work Text:
His fingertips brush the white marble. It is flawless — there are no scratches, no chips in the stone. He's never appreciated marble before, but he can't help but find himself enraptured. Beautiful.
"I came to visit," he murmurs, running his hand along the edges. A ghost of a smirk creeps onto his face. It has been so long since he last smiled at them. "Don't worry, they won't catch me. After all, the only thing I've ever failed to do was to kill you."
Did you not read stories as a child?
He pauses; the smile vanishes. "No, I'm sorry. That was not the only thing." Sighing, he sits down on the grass. His fingertips now trace the letters on the side of the tomb. H-e-r-o. "I failed to save you as well."
The hero always dies.