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They were fire, the two of them.
Fire made flesh, sons of the Lord of Light himself and when they were together there was only heat.
There was never darkness in the cave, or even when they were on the move; Beric pretended it was for the men but Thoros knew better. Thoros knew Beric was afraid of the dark. He had seen true darkness and he never wanted to see it again, at least not when he had a choice. Sometimes he had no such choice. But when he did, Thoros kept the fire burning for him, through rain and wind, exhausting himself sometimes but always burning, always light. Beric would reach over and squeeze his hand, in silent thanks, and Thoros felt the warmth within himself despite the chill of night air that surrounded him.
Despite the winter that was to come.
It was after the third time that the Red God saved Beric’s life that Thoros showed him the fires he had been hiding. Beric gasped back into life and Thoros let him breathe for a moment and then he kissed him. Not a kiss to save Beric’s life but a kiss to save his own. Beric whimpered in response, the sound surprisingly sweet for such a man and he grabbed hold of Thoros’ leather jerkin and pulled him closer.
That night, for the first time, Thoros thought that the fire could engulf him and the light could blind him and he wouldn’t mind a bit, as long as Beric was there too.
It got harder to bring Beric back each time and each time it would take longer afterwards to convince themselves that the other was real and when Sandor Clegane dealt his blow, just for a moment Thoros thought that the end had come, that the fire had gone out and the Lord of Light abandoned them to death. Because he would die too, if Beric was gone. They were no longer separate beings and when Beric finally opened his eye, the look he gave Thoros said that he could feel it too.
Something was changing.
That night, when they were alone, Thoros stoked the fire so it burned hard and burned long, and then he made their fires burn hard too. If Beric was not long for the light, then he would have the memory of it for as long as he could hold onto it. And Thoros would have it too.
Beric bit down on his shoulder to keep from crying out and Thoros hoped that the mark would last forever.
It was the Lady Stark in the end, the one that the Lord of Light had in mind for Beric’s end. Thoros cared nothing for the woman and he wanted to drag Beric away from her bloated and cold body. It was too late, the Red God was wrong, she couldn’t be saved.
But Beric cared, like he always cared, and he said he could feel it. He could feel what he needed to do and maybe it was time.
Thoros watched, paralysed, as Beric took off his cloak and laid it gently over Lady Stark. The gesture was clear – he wouldn’t need it anymore and she would. Then he knelt beside her and took a breath, deep and long.
His last.
Thoros sank to his knees and in front of the others, in front of everyone that they had tried to hide from, he kissed Beric.
Their last.
Beric didn’t mind. Thoros was the one who would have to live with people knowing their secret and he didn’t care. Beric stroked Thoros’ cheek and then he broke away, quickly, quickly, to do it before his courage left him.
As though Thoros gave him courage.
Beric kissed Lady Stark’s blue lips, as gently as he had ever kissed Thoros, and for a moment, nothing happened. Then Lady Stark’s eyes opened and Beric keeled over, as simple as that.
Thoros moved to his side. Let the others deal with Lady Stark. Let the Lord of Light have his woman. Just now, just this moment, Thoros wanted Beric.
He was still warm.
Thoros pulled his head onto his lap and traced the face he had come to know so well. The blue eye, closed now, the lips, the rough skin, the noose scar that circled his neck. He looked like always did but Thoros knew, Beric was in the dark now. The dark he was so very afraid of, and Thoros could not help himself.
He leaned down, pressing their lips together.
One last try.
It didn’t hurt to try.
It couldn’t hurt to try.
His tears slid down his face and onto Beric’s but Beric’s eye didn’t open and his mouth didn’t open and that was it.
The Lord of Light had made his choice and that choice was no longer Beric Dondarrion.
Thoros didn’t much feel like he had been chosen anymore either.
He just felt…cold.