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Ren doesn't want to die. He's always been apprehensive about everything. He's a follower, not a leader, and he thinks Martyn knows that better than either of them will admit. This decision is no different than any one he's made before. There are good and bad parts. He hopes the good outweigh the bad.
Ren doesn't want to die, and it's becoming abundantly clear that Martyn doesn't want to kill him. His Hand is breathing heavy puffs of white into the cold air. There's a shuffling noise, Martyn's fingers readjusting on the handle of the ax. Ren squeezes his eyes shut, knees aching against the hard stone. Better not to think about the ax that will end him.
Ren doesn't want to die, even though he chose this. He chose this, he knows the consequences, and yet. He still wonders if this is the right decision.
Ren doesn't want to die. No, this is not for him, he argues, this is for Martyn. Because if he is red, no one will come for his Hand. No one will dare to touch him. It's all for Martyn, he repeats desperately.
Ren isn't ready to die, in all honesty. Sure, he's yellow. He doesn't have as much time as he did. But he thought there was more time, more time for all of… this. A time he could just exist without a threat breathing down his neck or a worry that one day, Martyn won't come home. Ren shivers, the thought a bucket of ice down his back. Martyn touches his shoulder briefly. "Are you alright, milord?"
Ren isn't ready to die. "Of course, me Hand. Just a passing wind." Ren relishes in the warmth from Martyn's palm until it's gone and he realizes how much he's going to miss this. This balance between him and Martyn. This… this thing. Whatever it is they have.
Ren isn't ready to die, because he knows it will change everything. No one will look at him the same. And Ren couldn't care less about anyone else, but Martyn, Martyn will look at him with that pitying look he sometimes wears, the one that makes Ren feel all mushy inside, and not in a good way. Ren doesn't think he could handle it.
Ren isn't ready to die, but he's going to make Martyn kill him anyways. He will protect him from anyone and everything, even if it kills him. It will. He hears Martyn take a rough, steadying breath. He knows the ax is lifting.
Ren isn't ready to die, he isn't, and he wants to stop his Hand right now from doing exactly what he ordered. He wants Martyn to agree, to pull him close. He wants to tell Martyn he loves him as much as one can in something like this. He wants Martyn to agree, to kiss him, to be with him. But that's a happy ending, and even Ren knows that there are no happy endings. Not here.
Ren isn't ready to die, but it's too late. The axe is coming down, hard swing on blood and bone and sinew. Ren feels a dull impact on his neck before pain, white hot and sparking, explodes behind his eyes.
And it doesn't matter that Ren isn't ready to die, because he's already dead.