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The moment they saw each other they wanted more of each other.
Within a week they were lovers. Within a month they saw each other every day, playing, talking, sharing, fucking.
A year later she defeats Corypheus. The space is clear, they have so much time together and they jump in together with both feet; she suggested they share quarters and he was eager.
They moved in together. They loved, played, shared, talked, fucked... fought. They fought like crazy.
Each fight so very puzzling to her, trying so hard to understand him, to give him what he needs, what he wants. Always being the calm and collected one, always trying to give more to make it better... all the while dismissing the hurts received while she was trying so hard. He was upset, he didn't mean to.
She tries to understand where it's all coming from... he loves her; he loves to play with her, talk, share, fuck... fight? What is it for? Why is it when he gets angry it all the love falls away?
Is it the lyrium withdrawal? The lack of sleep it tends to cause?
Others hear and say they fight a lot... but they don't, he does, and she taps into what strength she has to be with her love through it all.
Her devotion does not waver, she tries, she gives and gives more, he fights her, he gets angry, he yells, throws their things and she tries to understand, to get closer to him, to help him see that she loves him and all the screaming and raging isn't necessary.
She wants him to have everything, he doesn't have to fight for anything... she reminds him of this a few times before giving it up entirely, he isn't hearing her.
It doesn't matter, the pattern repeats, she becomes so afraid of making him angry, she is as gentle as she has always been and more. She still wants to love and be loved as she watches what's left of herself shrink away into a puddle of fear and childhood associations of her father screaming at her for not being good enough... she realizes she chose to be with her father and laughs at herself a little and loves him a little more.
She's never good enough. Not beautiful enough, not worthy of love and has no value...
And still he plays with her, talks with her, shares with her, fucks her. Well, it's good most of the time.
She thinks of him lovingly even after what he said last night; Spiteful, wicked, ruthless-
What have I done to deserve that? I'm really not those things! I'm not. Am I? She asks herself when things have calmed down and she has a moment for thought... always looking for where she was responsible in what happened between them.
Random verbal abuse becomes her norm, she doesn't even question anymore whether it's okay or not, it just is. He rages, he fights, she grows cold, goes for a ride on her mount, comes home, they talk, they share, they play, they fuck... maybe fight some more.
She becomes comfortable with the message that she only has value some of the time, it's just the way it is. They grow comfortable and settled in their patterns.
Let's live in our own quarters and still see each other he says one day out of the blue as if it were a completely rational thing to say. It doesn't feel rational to her; it hurts, it feels like a breakup. I thought we were so close... and getting closer. She laments, not yet keen to her own grand-scale foolishness.
I'm sorry if I lead you on... he leaves the statement hanging there as if it's rational, like she should understand.
Five. Fucking. Years. Cullen. She speaks, feeling cold toward him.
Betrayed, he said the one thing she can not, will not unhear.
Go to your own hole-in-the-roof quarters, and I will to mine, and that is how we will stay. She glares and hardens her heart against that desire she knows will come... the desire just to feel him once more.
To see his lips smile and hear his laugh when they play, feel his heart when he shares, feel his softness when he leans in to kiss her, the way his strong arms fit perfectly around her, the way he owns her body at night and makes her come over and over again...
No more. She insists, clutching her aching chest and refusing to let him hold her when he tries; disillusioned from her lifelong motto of love conquers all, she chooses to leave.
Tears well up in his eyes, I love you so much... this is not what I wanted.
Her hurt amplifies at seeing his grief and tears. Refusing to hold him as she always had, she will not soothe him with sweet loving words or give anymore of herself... but she wants to so badly.
No more. She speaks through her own tears, walking away but walking backwards just to see his beautiful face for a moment longer. I love you, you are everything to me. No more.