Work Text:
It starts off dreadfully simple. All too simple, really, for the wild ride that you'll be on for the rest of your short life. You're both doing calligraphy homework and of course, Hassel is almost done. He's the star pupil, has excelled in everything since birth; you watch the moonlight lightly curve upon his skin as he focuses on the the parchment paper in front of him.
The candle flickers lightly as you take in a deep breath.
"Hassel," you say quietly, "I think I love you."
The man's hand jerks, ruining the character he's working on with a deviant straight line--despite that, all he can do is look up at you with his eyes wide. His mouth trembles as he tries to right it.
And isn't that what no one ever wants to see, a face of horror in response to their confession?
Swallowing your hurt, you huff out a soft laugh.
"That's a funny face you've got on there," you chime quietly. Gently, you lift your arm, your sleeve covering the candlelight so it doesn't show the pain on your face. "Look, you messed up your work completely."
Hassel's face morphs from shock to a sense of guilt as he places down his brush and awkwardly fidgets with a button on his collar.
"I...I-!"
"-Now, now," you cut him off, shaking your head. You already received an answer from him, even if it's one that devastates you. "I know you don't feel the same way. I just...would like to know if. It's something wrong with me, or if it's another woman or man, or...."
"--It's not your fault," he interjects frantically. "Sincerely. I...care for you more than any other."
You press your lips together, glancing away and trying to focus on the night sky outside. It hurts that he's saying such a sweet thing, because it still makes your heart beat much too quickly.
"It's...the other thing, then? My...features?"
At the quiver in your voice, both you and Hassel flinch. Still, you find yourself unable to look away--Hassel's sorrowful eyes are so beautiful to you still, and you drink them in even though it pains you.
"I...don't know," he admits quietly. "I do not know if it's...features, or if it's...more of soul."
His face contorts with pain as you ruin your own calligraphy homework.
Your brush was placed down a long time ago--it's your tears absolutely wrecking what you've been trying to perfect for the past hour. Ink and tears don't go well together, and neither do you and rejection.
You bark out forced laughter as you point to his apologetic and concerned face, as if he's genuinely sorry he can't return your affections. As if he thinks that makes it any better, that he wishes to, but sincerely can't. He's so sweet that you hate that you can't be angry at him.
"Yo-you've got the strangest face on right now," you bark out through your tears, forcing your lips to not snivel and turn down, "What's with that?"
You stand up and try to grunt, although it comes out as a wet choke and you wipe your eyes with the back of your arm.
"Well!" You say, attempting to be cheerful, staring right into Hassel's eyes. The flame of the candle reflected in his eyes frames his face sternly, and you wonder how you ever could've imagined a future with him. "I'll...go home then, to finish this assignment."
"--Wait, I..."
He looks so genuinely remorseful and guilty that you can't help but feel so much love that you can't help but give him a reassuring smile. It's your heart being broken, but somehow, Hassel looks as if he feels just as bad. As if.
But you can't be angry at him for this, not when you know how much of a soft soul he is, that he really would be distraught over this.
It's your own fault, for bringing something like this up.
"Don't feel guilty over this," you say, your hurt and affection obvious to both you and him, "I just need some time to...try and get over this. If I can."
You can see him start to tear up, the silly young man. It breaks your heart that he feels so guilty over it, since you know how soft and sensitive he is. He won't even give you the privilege of being the only one hurt by this; he has to hurt the one you love too, as if that's anything close to what you wanted.
"You'll...come back," he says haltingly, "right?"
You give your first real chuckle at the insecure question; as if you could ever leave his side, knowing that someone like him is out there in this world. That's your Hassel right there, so vulnerable and kind-hearted, even though he's the future head of the noblest family in the village. You idly wonder if he'll ever be as stern as his father--you doubt it, even if he has his father's eyes and cheekbones.
"Of course I will," you choke out, feeling tears sprout up in you again as you think about just how much you love a person who doesn't love you back. "I love you. That won't change. I'll see you tomorrow, just--don't...act any differently towards me. I don't think my sensitive heart could handle that."
"I'm sorry," you whisper as Hassel sobs into your shoulder. "She was...a wonderful, kind person."
Hassel can only cry out in agony as his entire body trembles against yours; you gulp, holding him soothingly as he collapses in your embrace.
"She was brilliant and empathetic," you say as the man wails out in grief. He grips you tightly and although part of you is happy beyond belief at the closeness, the majority of you just hurts seeing the man you love like this. "She was amazing, to have raised a man as kind and strong as you...and I'm sure her spirit is watching over you, proud of you and glad to have had such a son."
He tries so hard to keep a strict face; you saw how valiantly he held his tears in during the funeral, although his face hid none of his grief. But at least the tears didn't come out, not in front of his father.
"My father," he grits out through choked sobs, "Did not shed tears at his mother's funeral, nor did he show emotion. He held steady, knowing he was to be the face of the family's future. But I admit--I cannot see how my mother would not allow her son to grieve and honor her properly. Is there not merit to having been vulnerable, to having loved? Does she not deserve that honor?"
You quietly bury your hand in his hair, holding him to your shoulder.
"There is," you softly say, your own voice cracking. "She does deserve it. We all do. You're so strong for not having closed off your heart, and a good son to have loved her the way you did. That's all anyone ever wants; to have someone feel the same way for them. Your father doesn't know what he's talking about, to say that you didn't respect her properly tonight."
You feel Hassel stiffen up in your arms--for a moment, you mean to backtrack, to let him know he has the support of everyone, to apologize for giving an opinion on his father.
Instead, Hassel only burrows deeper into your arms, sobbing.
"I wish I could," the man sobs, holding you to him as if you're someone who could disappear too. "I wish I could control how I felt. I wish I could have been a better son to the family, to my mom, and I wish I could love you the way you deserve. I wish I could be how Father wants me to be, to make him and Mother proud. I wish I stood up to him more, wish that I could have expressed all I wanted to tonight for her."
And more than hurt--which you do feel, of course--you feel a righteous anger in you at his words. Hassel doesn't need to feel sorrow for who he isn't, when he's more than wonderful enough for who he already is.
"Don't you dare say that," you whisper angrily, making the man lean away from you to look into your eyes, surprised at your ferocity, "You are the man your mother raised and she could ask for no one better, and I'd never ask you to change--that wouldn't be the Hassel she and I know and love. She knew you had to put on a strong face today, and she would be proud of how well you did. She would never ask you to be anyone but yourself."
"I know you still don't feel for me the way I feel for you."
Hassel winces, looking away. You feel terrible, nauseous even. But you smile at the man you love and nervously offer him your hand anyway; he glances at it, lightly confused as your heart pounds in your chest.
After all, you've seen how this weighs on his mind--he's barely gotten sleep since the announcement, since he found out his father's been arranging dates with potential wives to see which his son will fancy.
"Use me to hide. I know your family wants you to marry."
Hassel's eyes grow wide and there's pain in them as his jaw clenches. He shakes his head sternly, which actually devastates you, although he falters and soon grabs onto your hand.
"You're...too precious to me for me to hurt that way," he says. "I cannot use your affection like this. You have treated me so well throughout our lives that...if I hurt you, by marrying you when I cannot love you in the way you deserve, that I will never forgive myself."
You swallow down a gulp.
"You'd...really rather marry some random stranger than me?"
Hassel flinches, shaking his head no, although he looks conflicted.
"Of course not," he gets out. "No one else in the world would understand...my limitations. But I'd rather hurt someone who does not love me than someone who does."
You frown lightly, your other hand rising to hold Hassel in place.
"Hassel, you would not hurt me. I'm agreeing to this because I love you."
Hassel flashes you a glare.
"That is why you'll get hurt. I cannot make myself torture you in that manner. You deserve a man who loves you."
You shake your hand and glare back.
"But you're much kinder, and sweeter, than any of the men who ever could love me."
Hassel's face falls as he looks at you sadly.
"I assure you, you will find someone better than me to love you."
You start to feel tears come on; you've also been told you're a bit of a crybaby, although you're nothing in comparison to Hassel when he was younger. He's been getting better at it, now able to hide his tears more than you--but you can see him start to tear up in response too, his kind nature overly sympathetic to that of others.
"I...I see," you almost bite out, "I'm not good enough to even falsely marry. I understand."
You release his hands and turn around, although you desperately wish for Hassel to stop you. At the very least, Hassel's been raised in diplomacy, to never let things end on a negative note--he grabs your wrist and stops you from leaving, looking deeply into his eyes.
"It's...not that, I promise," he says softly. "You are...too important for me to lose."
Tearily, you look him in the eyes; you feel this burning in your heart, one that calls out for something that could never happen. You wish he could lose you, but you're nothing without him. There is no other happiness in this world for you, not when Hassel exists.
"What makes you think marrying someone else won't lose me? It'd be different if you were in love, but when you don't even love them...?"
Hassel falters, his mouth opening and closing as he tries to come up with a rebuttal. Ultimately, his shoulders sink a little as he can't think of one.
"I just...."
You stare at him, knowing there's something else weighing on his mind.
"...Is it selfish?" He whispers, unblinkingly staring into your eyes. "To ask you to be mine, when I can't be yours? When I can't give you what you deserve?"
You tilt your head, looking back into his gaze.
"Is it selfish of me to still cling onto the hope that you'll love me one day?"
Hassel's face falls; you know you've said the wrong thing, because he stands a little taller, his face tilted in that stern way his father taught him.
Hating yourself, and simultaneously screaming on the inside that you never deserved something like this, you shake your head.
"I...don't mean it that way, Hassel. I know you won't, and I won't force you too. But if you think I deserve something better...that's wrong. I deserve you, Hassel. And you deserve the world," you say quietly. "If there's no one on this planet that you could possibly love, it'd be an honor to pretend by your side."
Your wedding night is awkward for the entire duration of the ceremony, but only the first minute the two of you step into your wedding suite. Everything is decorated in red and gold, roses and carnations decorating the room, and there's only one bed.
Hassel stares in horror, scared, and he glances at you for a second before darting his eyes away--as if he's scared you're actually going to coerce him to do anything.
It...kind of hurts a little, that he'd think you'd do something like that, but you understand why he's scared.
You roll your eyes to yourself and sit elegantly onto the bed, slumping into the plush mattress more deeply than you anticipated.
"Hassel," you gasp out lightly, "check out how soft this bed is!"
In the corner of your eye, you see him fidget with his hands a little. You sigh a little more, knowing that you'll need to convince him you're not going to devour him up, even if you want to. You'd never do that to him.
"I'm not going to devour you like some beast," you say wryly. "I care about you--and I know you're uncomfortable with...bedroom matters."
Hassel grimaces and you almost snort at the expression--there's very few people that Hassel allows himself to express anything but congeniality and agreement around, and although you're one of them, it's been a long time since you've seen the exasperated half of him. Now that you're his wife, you're expected to have similar etiquette--of course, you hate it, but if Hassel's been doing this since he was a young boy, you'll have to put up with it just as well.
"I-I'm aware," Hassel says, trying to deny the fact that he looks more relaxed after hearing that, taking a few steps towards you. "I just...have always associated the ceremonial night to be...."
He trails off.
You shake your head, although it's with a little smile. You hold out your hand hesitantly, while you stare at him patiently.
"I'm not asking for much," you say, "But would...say, hugging be appropriate? In a...non-romantic way, as just close friends?"
You see Hassel blink before he breaks out into a smile; the man walks over and, sitting on the bed, lies back so he's next to you. He pulls on your arm, pulling you back so you lay down too.
"Surely the closest of friends," he says, almost teasing. "So close we're married."
You blush, lightly resting your hand on his shoulder, although you grow much more bold when he wraps his arm around you and pulls you to him. The two of you burst out into laughter at how strange the situation is, but you can't imagine it as anything different, as you feel his warmth across your skin.
The walk back to your communal room is quiet. Hassel sticks close to your side, even with the tense atmosphere, and you try to hold your head high so you don't lose face in front of the family. Your hand is in his arm, Hassel's hand protectively gripping onto it in reassurance.
When you finally reach your shared room, you shudder a little bit as you try to stay strong.
You see Hassel's worried expression and give him a tight smile, shaking your head as you try to brush it all off.
"I'm alright," you quietly express. "It just...got to me, for a moment."
Hassel frowns heavily; you see the way his throat swallows with effort as he tries to word the strong emotion he's feeling.
"It...shouldn't have been said to you," he sternly says under his breath. "As the next head of house, they should not have disrespected you like that. That impunity...Father shouldn't have allowed it."
You gulp as you try to push down the hurt and rage that wells up in you again, at the accusation. Despite that, you walk over to Hassel--you place your hand tenderly on his arm, trying to calm him down.
"That's all they can assume," you quietly say. "I'd rather them think I'm infertile, considering if they think there's a fault with you, the family will make your life miserable."
Hassel grits his teeth, although he doesn't throw your arm off.
"The family...."
He doesn't finish his statement. He's never been able to say a bad thing about the family, no matter how much he's had to suffer. Sighing softly, but giving the man a soft smile, you stare into his eyes.
"I'm willing to take on that pain," you say simply, watching how Hassel's eyes wrinkle with sorrow. "You are important enough to me for me to endure this all."
And sure, it was extremely humiliating and heartbreaking that the elders in the family had suggested he remarry--that since you hadn't borne child yet, the future of the family was in question. But you and Hassel had never gotten comfortable enough to engage in lecherous activities, and you'd never be able to stomach making Hassel do something he doesn't want to do.
He's already suffered so much for the family.
You don't want to be another source of misery and obligation for him.
"You deserve more than that," he angrily whispers, looking away from you, "To not be held back by my...limitations. I will insist that I not remarry, not when you have been...more than gracious, with my shortcomings."
You shake your head, now placing both of your hands softly on his arm, asking him to look at you.
"Hassel, my darling," you say affectionately, "You are yourself, and you are perfect to me. I could not ask for a better husband."
Hassel refuses to meet your stare.
"A better husband would have stood up for you, would have told his father to not entertain the thought."
The two of you quiet with that statement, before you gently wrap your arms around his waist. Moments later, you relax a little when his arms move to surround you as well.
"Hassel, what if you find someone you actually love? What if--"
Hassel shakes his head with mild affection, hugging you from behind as you stiffen up and blush. Even if the two of you are married, you still get flustered with any kind of physical affection, considering you don't actually perform the activities that are customary for couples to experience.
After five years of marriage, Hassel has gotten a lot more comfortable with teasing you as a husband, although that doesn't mean he's comfortable with romantic actions. Still, you wouldn't trade it for the world--even through everything the family's put you through, from the constant trying to get Hassel to either remarry or take a mistress, to the way they treat Hassel as if he's nothing more than someone to be used by the family.
"I think by now, we've established that I just am not capable of that emotion," he says wryly, lightly placing his chin on top of your head. "You are much too dear for me to lose, and I intend on rejecting any woman, no matter how agreeable they appear to be, out of respect."
Despite the relief that cascades over you at this statement, you do frown lightly.
"Hassel, if you end up actually loving someone, I...."
The thought makes you sad, but you gulp and power on.
"I would want you to be happy," you finish with a whisper.
Hassel is quiet from above you, before you feel strong air hit the top of your head from his exhale.
"You are beloved to me," he says quietly. "You have supported me for no reason, endured my family even though you have no ties to them. I owe my current happiness to you--else I would be with someone disagreeable, obligated to bear children for my family."
You huff a little, appreciating the gesture, but feel a little chill within you at the mention of children. Hassel's arms, which are currently wrapped around you, turn tighter as the two of you stand there.
"Hassel," you whisper. "I...I don't want to force you...."
You hear a disgusted growl--your eyes widen, since you've never heard anything like that from the man before. You don't think he's directing it at you, with the way the man holds you in place, but you can't exactly tell.
"The family wants us to have children," Hassel darkly says. "I...cannot say that I'd prefer it, but I'd rather it be you than someone I do not know."
Gulping, you know what this means.
Hassel is such a soft and gentle soul--but he's always been too gentle for the family.
Hassel hasn't looked at you after the family doctor has ecstatically announced your pregnancy.
You had been trying for a while, but tensions have been awkward for the past couple of months as you tried strategically. Of course, the two of you had tried your best to make things as smooth-sailing as possible--there was nothing erotic about your attempts, although both of you had quietly tried to make sure things were as comfortable for each other as possible during the ordeal.
Now that your belly is starting to lightly show, you miss your husband. And yes, Hassel is still sleeping in the same bed as you at night--but there's something different about it all, something that makes you think that you've messed everything up, even if both of you had agreed that it'd be better for the family to get off your back once you had this one child.
Wistfully, you think back to your younger days, where Hassel and you would play and joke, able to escape the world for a second.
You're in the market, idly looking at the various seasonal fruits, when you hear the yell of a child.
"ZWEILOUS! BE CAREFUL!"
You barely turn around before you feel something crash into you, knocking you over as your arms catch you from hitting the ground too fast. For a single disoriented second, you just stare at your hands; but the next, your hands move to protectively cover your stomach, realizing with a horror that you're with child.
Hassel will kill you if you lose the child.
Suddenly wrought with fear and panic, tears starting to spring up in your eyes, you only feel more and more alarmed when you hear a furious roar--like that almost of a Dragon Pokemon, except it sounds very human.
A Baxcalibur bursts through the crowd, storming in your direction to stand in front of you, almost howling in its defensive aggression. It stares down the child with the wayward Zweilous, and the child whimpers and trembles in fear before bursting out into tears.
What's terrifying to you, though, is the sheer anger in Hassel's eyes as he menacingly makes his way over to you, adjusting the lapels of his coat as if he were struggling to withhold an internal rage.
You gulp. You haven't been on speaking terms with Hassel in so long of a time, after you've been announced pregnant. Hassel will kill you if you have to make him go through all of that again--or he may very well actually find another wife, one that will keep his child, one that he might actually love.
When he gets to you, he immediately kneels and places his hand on your shoulder, looking you up and down briskly. He doesn't meet your eyes while you tremble in fear at how angry he looks, although he does grit out stern words for the child still cowering just feet away from you.
"She is with child," the man darkly intones. "Control your Pokemon better and do not let this happen again."
The child tearfully and frantically nods yes, hightailing it into the distance, calling his Zweilous into his ball before bawling, the sobs getting quieter as he runs off into the distance.
"I'm sorry," you whisper tearfully to Hassel, who glances and meets your eyes for a second before he flicks them away. "I'm sorry, Hassel. Please don't hate me. I promise I don't want you to go through that again, please don't divorce me, I...."
Hassel doesn't look back at you, but he does slowly offer his hand, palm up. You blink and stare at it for a second before you slowly take his hand with yours, gently being helped to your feet by your husband. When you're finally all upright, however, Hassel doesn't let go of your hand.
He guides you, not taking any direction other than his own as a path, until you're back at the family's collection of villas--at which point, he squeezes your hand tightly.
"Go to our bedroom," he says authoritatively. For a second, you think, he sounds so much like his father. "I must follow up on some matters and will be there shortly. We need to...talk."
He's going to divorce you. You can barely stop yourself from weeping as you sit in your shared bedroom by yourself, trying to tell yourself to be strong. It's the pregnancy hormones, sure, but all you want is for Hassel to not leave you--and sure, your romantic love for him is selfish as well, but you're genuinely not sure how you could live through life without him.
You startle when there's a measured knock on the door and in comes Hassel, just as serious and stern as before.
You can feel yourself trembling as you stare Hassel in the eyes, the man unreadable.
"P-please don't leave me," you wail out, trying to sniff in your mucus. "I know I hurt you by trying to have this child, but I promise I didn't want to. Hassel, I. I don't know if I can be without you."
You stare at him sadly and through tears, not sure if the plea to romantic emotion is actually helping your case here. Hassel seems so impenetrable, so distant, as he grits his teeth and looks away, his hands clenched into fists.
He closes his eyes and you see him take a deep breath in, and let it out.
"I would never leave you," he says quietly.
He opens his eyes and turns to look at you--suddenly, you're aware of how sad the man himself looks; like he's disgusted with himself, or with you, or with everything.
You shake your head, still mildly hysterical, the pregnancy hormones not doing you any favors.
"But I made you do that," you cry, "I told you that it'd be better if the family stopped bothering you--"
"--And you were right," Hassel cuts in. "And we had both agreed to this. You did not coerce me."
You abruptly choke on some snot and blink furiously, effectively having been cut off from your train of thought with the unexpected response.
"B-but I should've stopped you," you quietly wail, "Because I never wanted to hurt you."
The man looks away, sighing. He remains still for a few seconds before he takes some steps forward, until he eventually is standing in front of the bed. Awkwardly, he sits down on it, creating about two feet of distance between the both of you.
"You...didn't hurt me," he says stoically. "Truthfully, it was necessitated by the family. Neither you nor I had any real choice in the matter."
You sit there quietly, your head bowed down as you take in his words. You would've loved for Hassel to have genuinely enjoyed it, but you knew it was impossible from the start. The two of you had bought as much time as you could, going as long without the need for intercourse as you possibly could, before the family had started clamoring for him to get a new wife.
And that new wife would not be as understanding, probably, as you.
Despite that, you do feel guilty.
"Hassel, I hurt you."
"...Once again, you did not," he says quietly. "I...have been distant, I realize. But please know I do not blame you for this, not at all."
You frown, lightly digging your fingers into the mattress as you try to shake off the guilt that still overwhelms you.
"Hassel, you can," you admit, your gaze still boring into the floor underneath you. "You've endured so much for the sake of the family that I'm fine if you blame me. I just don't want you to suffer any more. Not if I can help it. I don't want us both to suffer."
A few seconds of silence draws out as you try to tell yourself to hold back the tears.
You hear the mattress squeak a little as Hassel readjusts his positioning--to your surprise, the mattress near you dips a little as Hassel sits closers to you, his thigh now touching yours.
His hand reaches out to land on yours and you look up, meeting his gaze in what's been his most vulnerable and genuine expression in the past couple of years.
"With words like that," he wryly says, "How could I ever remarry? You have been so loving, despite me unable to love you back in that way. You were willing to be hounded for not bearing a child for me, something no other could endure with their pride. I blame not you, but the injustice of the situation--for hurting both you, and me, and for me, for letting us both be hurt."
You shake your head no, not liking the way he's ascribing fault to himself for letting you be hurt.
"Hassel," you almost hiss, "I am the luckiest person in this village, to have the honor of having you as my husband. I am not hurt, not when I know there's someone like you who cares about how I feel. You do not deserve to be forced by the family to have child, and I regret every single day that I gave in when as your partner, I should've been willing to endure a little more."
He huffs a little, his hand grabbing yours a little tighter.
"We could talk in circles regarding this all day," he darkly muses. "It is not that I am...against children. It is merely the act itself that is unpleasant, although I would say the reward is more than enough to justify the cost. I...have been a terrible future father and husband, and I apologize for that."
Your eyes widen as you think you kind of get what Hassel's thinking--and you immediately need to prove him incorrectly.
"Hassel," you say urgently, "You are nothing like your father. The child isn't even born yet and while we have...admittedly talked less the past couple of months, I know you are still kind. Do not think of yourself as failing something when both parties haven't even started to blame you. I understand if I...am linked with pain for you now, although it hurts me that I've done that to you, and understand if you need distance."
Hassel stares at you, unblinking as he wrestles with something internally.
You watch him strain to hold something back.
"Hassel," you say quietly. "It's okay. If you want to cry, it's okay. You're strong regardless, and the child and I will love you no matter what, and there's nothing you could ever do to disappoint us or hurt us."
It's been years since you've last seen the man cry, now that he's older and has learned to repress his tears more, much to his father's approval. Still, you can't help yourself from tugging on him and pulling him into a hug, the two of you gently leaning until you hit the bed, nuzzling each other as you cry about how much you've missed him.
Hassel tearfully pulls you closer to him and hugs you, his arms protectively curling around your waist.
It's a beautiful day outside; Hassel's prepared a nice picnic for the two of you, and it's even sweet that he's brought along a chair for you to sit in, despite the inconvenience. He's been overcompensating for his frigidness in the beginning to the pregnancy, to now doting on you to such an extreme that you can't help but get flustered.
Of course, he teases you by saying he's just acting like a good husband, pretending to be all composed and formal when you cough and try to fan away the blush from your mortification.
It's quite nice outside, as you beam at him. He grins back, pulling out his shinobue flute, as he decides to serenade you for some reason.
It's been such a long time since he's played it for you that you didn't even realize he still plays. He sounds just as beautiful as he did before, back when he won championships for his music, and you smile softly at him as he finishes up his first piece.
"You know," you say warmly, "It's a shame that you couldn't have gone into music, considering how much you've always loved it. I remember being really happy seeing you play when we were younger, since you always had this look of joy on you. I'd love to hear you play more often."
Hassel blinks at you and tilts his head, looking at you oddly.
You blink, pulling a face.
"Did I say something strange?"
Hassel huffs and shakes his head, although there's something indescribable on his face.
"Not at all," he responds. "I...just forgot that you know me so well."
You blink again, not really understanding what he means.
"You didn't think I know you played the flute?"
He crinkles his brow a little as he gives a chuckle.
"No, not that. Just that...music is one of the few things that has never brought misery to my life."
He quiets, although you tilt your head.
"I see. And I give you misery?"
Hassel's eyes grow wide at your tease and he staunchly shakes his head no, frowning heavily.
"You are one of the few people who have supported me no matter what," he says, "And I--"
"--Alright, alright," you giggle, cutting him off. "I know. But we all get annoyed and hurt by each other somehow, so I've definitely hurt you in the past. So I'm glad that music is there for you, when I'm not."
Hassel stares quietly at you, before he looks away.
"...I have hurt you too," he expresses quietly, "Yet I would not have this life any other way. Music also cannot replace the love that justifies the hurt. I would not change a thing about this life if it meant not having you."
Blushing furiously, and maybe desperately telling your heart to shut up and not take this the romantic way, you feel overjoyed. A part of you swoons over how much you mean to him, even if it isn't exactly in the ideal romantic way. But god damn it, isn't this something to be treasured as well? If you're okay with being the most important person in his life, and he's okay with you loving him romantically, isn't that something amazing in its own right?
"I love you Hassel," you get out, "And I don't mean this in a weird way."
Hopefully, Hassel understands.
You think he does, because he grins back.
"And I love you too. Similarly, in what you call, a non-weird way."
And the two of you beam at each other, giddy like young children.
"Father, this is my wife and son we're discussing, it is my decision to make--"
"--Hassel. You can always find another wife. The family desperately needs a future successor, especially since I plan stepping down to let you take over the family soon."
Hassel stares down his family, who have all congregated in the halls. All of them, young and old alike, stare at the altercation between him and his father; although he's grown taller than the old man, has learned to be as strict and regal as necessitated, he still feels so small compared to the man in front of him.
And no one in the family supports his decision to save you.
"Father," Hassel grits out, "Respectfully, we could always try again. You heard the medics say that the possibility of both surviving are extremely low. The family cannot handle this loss."
His father coldly stares at him, giving him a withering glare.
"The child is part of the family, not the woman. She bears no blood of ours."
Hassel stares at him, wide-eyed, almost hysterically angry with the way no one else in the family looks sympathetic at all.
Arguably, the reasonable members of the family wouldn't have come to the hospital, wouldn't have wanted to see such a tragedy occur.
You've been unconscious for a couple of terrifying hours, your pregnancy complicated by something that wasn't caught until you had fainted in front of the steps of the family villa.
"I am not choosing to let her die," he growls. "Even if I have to...have to take a mistress to bear child, I will not force her to deliver a child when her body cannot sustain it."
The family mumbles disapprovingly in the hallway, until his father holds out his hand and shushes them all.
"You have a decision to make, Hassel," his father rumbles. "Make the right one."
It wasn't enough. Oh, he made the right decision--the right decision in his mind, to keep you alive, especially since he couldn't imagine surviving his family without you.
But it was the right decision and it wasn't even enough. He defied his family for you, told the medics to do anything to keep you alive; and in the end, both perished, as if it never even mattered.
Hassel's currently in what used to be your shared bedroom, shivering and sobbing on the ground, now all alone as he grieves what he's lost. His father had been no help--simply telling him sternly that he made the wrong decision, and maybe if he had chosen his son, he would have at least one.
The rest of the family appeared to have a little more tact when he arrived home despondent, although he heard them whispering about how his father has already lined up some potential future wives for him to remarry,
In the last week or so, the two of you had been so happy about your future that for once, he had actually not dreaded the future that was to come. With you by his side, the closest of friends until the end, and a potentially brilliant child for the two of you to raise together, he had actually dreamed of a future where he could've been thrilled as the head of the family.
In just a couple of hours, his entire future was shattered.
You're gone.
The only person who had loved him unconditionally after his mother had died is now gone, and as he sobs into his shaking hand that tries to muffle his pathetic cries, he briefly entertains the idea of joining you.
There's no future for him in this family, not one without you. Not one without someone so capable of warmth and love, who he could let his guard down around and not even be expected to romantically reciprocate. Like his mother, you were warmth that life had taken away from him--and the family moves on, and since he's part of the family, he has to too.
But he doesn't want to.
He doesn't ever want to move on, doesn't want to stand at your funeral and pretend to be stone-faced like his father, doesn't want to ever treat a child as if they're nothing more than a biological investment in the family's future.
He doesn't know if he'll ever take a wife again, couldn't bear to go through with intercourse with someone not as understanding as you. Children won't be in his future, no matter how much he loved the idea of having one with you, not unless he decides to go teaching or something.
--And that thought stuns him.
The thought of a future.
Because he's lying on the floor, clawing at his chest, trying to find any way to join you because there is no future here in this family without you--and under the surface, the quietest and almost guilty realization hits.
Any future without you is automatically much more dim, but there is a future. It's just not here, where he has to hide that he loved you, even if it was in a way that no one else in this village could've understood except for you. There is a future, and it can only happen if he pisses off everyone around him even more, throws away all the investment they've ever put into him, ruins everyone's expectations.
There's a future somewhere far away from this place, where he wasn't allowed to love and exist as himself.
You...he'd have to stay for your funeral, at least. He has to. And by the gods, he's terrified of leaving home, of doing something he's never dared dream to. But he can imagine your beaming smile and your tender expression, can imagine you finally ecstatic that he's actually standing up for himself and trying to be happy.
And he'll miss you.
He won't stop missing you.
But he knows that you'll be cheering him on the entire way, never asking him to be someone he's not.
The day after your funeral, in the middle of the night, he sneaks out to where you now lie, forever quiet.
It's about a ten minute walk outside of the village, because he refused to let your remains lie within the family's oppressive cemetary. There's a bulky suitcase in his hand and a scarf covering his mouth, the night wind blowing his hair lightly out of his face. The ship departs in an hour and a half, but he left early in case he couldn't bear to part from you so quickly.
"I'll come back to you often," he promises over the wind, his voice more bright and emotional than it's been outside of your bedroom for the past ten years, "I'll tell you my tales and you'll be the first to hear every new song I create. I'm...moving to Paldea--and...I'll try to pursue a path in music."
It's hard to tell under the scarf, but he gives you a sad smile.
"I wish you were still here to tell me to be myself, but I won't disappoint you. The next time we meet...I'll be the Hassel you love, but better."
And for a second, he swears he can hear your sweet voice promising him that you'd never be disappointed in him. And he holds onto that memory for as long as he can, before pulling out his flute and playing one last song for now.