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“Til death do us part?” Frieren repeated.
Himmel nodded, “Yes. It’s a human saying.”
“It’s something grooms and brides say when they get married,” Heiten said in a laugh before taking a swing of his bottle.
“It doesn’t apply to a group of adventurers,” Eisen said grumpily.
“It doesn’t have to be about marriage,” Himmel said. “Til death do us part… it basically means we’ll stay together forever.”
“Forever means nothing when you’re human,” Frieren said. “It’s barely… what, six decades?”
“We live a little longer than 60 years!” Himmel said, sounding falsely shocked. “It’s more… 80-90 years.”
“Basically nothing,” Frieren retorted. “It’s not even a century.”
“Why do you always measure everything in decades or centuries?”
“For the same reason you measure everything in centimeters and meters and not millimeters and nanometers: it’s easier to picture.”
Himmel fell quiet, uncharacteristically so. When he spoke again, he sounded a little more serious than he usually would, “Elves live a long time, don’t they?”
“No, not particularly so. Humans live very short lives, though.”
Himmel let out another chuckle, “You’re impossible to argue with.”
“Besides,” Frieren said, “death can happen at any time. It has nothing to do with time. I’m supposed to live for another couple of centuries, but if we fell on a tough enemy tomorrow, I might die.”
“You won’t die,” Himmel said. “I, Himmel the Hero, won’t let you die. I’ll protect you. Til death do us part!”
Frieren turned to face him, a puzzled look on her face. Himmel kept smiling that soft smile of his. Then he grinned.
“So,” Himmel said, handing over his pinky. He glanced at Eisen and Heiter, but Frieren could feel his gaze lingering on her. “Comrades ‘til death do us part?”
Frieren stared at the finger, and then at Himmel. Why did he care so much about that phrase?
“If that amuses you.”
Frieren heard Heiten burst into laughter and Eisen let out a grunt– his own special way of laughing.
“For the record,” Himmsel said, not at all hurt or fazed, “the death that will do us part is mine and mine only. And I’ll die a retired hero. Of old age.”
Frieren scoffed, repeating, “Old. You won’t even be a century old.”
Himmel let out a pure, wholehearted laugh. His laugh. Frieren didn’t know yet how she’ll come to miss it.
“I really can’t argue with you.”
*
Frieren’s fingers trace over the words. Til death do us part. She puts the book down on her lap and looks away. It’s been a while since she’s looked back upon memories of her old comrades with something other than fondness.
She has no choice, since other races tend to die tragically young. Frieren can’t let the sinking feeling settle in. She can’t let grief take over. She learned to be grateful for the time she had, for how Himmel and the others came into her life and painted bright colors she hadn’t seen since her time with Flamme.
But today, the human saying til death do us part feels like a dagger to the heart.
So, for a second and for a second only she allows herself to go back in time. Frieren can see Himmel’s smile. She can see his hand. She can see the passion that was always so his when he asked the question.
It’s tough not to have regrets when you live for so long. It’s tough to learn to let go, but Frieren isn’t a young elf anymore. And still, she regrets.
Frieren regrets not asking him more questions about why it mattered to him. She regrets not swearing she would stay by his side. She regrets not extending her pinky.
Yes, death did do them part –the Demon King’s, Himmel’s, Heiter’s or Eisen’s, Frieren isn’t sure. Til death do us part meant forever for Himmel and it means only a small chapter of Frieren’s life.
For Himmel, forever was glorious, filled with adventures and with bringing back peace to their land.
For Frieren, after Himmel's forever, she has to live for another one.