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Ours is a love not even fate can deny. A love, desperately fought for and often adamantly fought against. An endless love, that when time itself is undone, will live on. From our first breath, each meant for the other.
Today the battle is over, and we are to be wed. It is all we have ever wanted and now that it is within reach, I find I am scared. It is such a short walk to where he is, yet I see our lives, the years’ we have had, flash before me.
Though we have done well so far, doubt makes itself known. I worry that we won’t make it. Questions shift and form, uninvited.
Will we tire of each other eventually, will he or I, ever desire another? Why am I doubting now? Could I continue, if he were no longer in my life?
I think there will always be doubt, sitting there in the dark recesses of my mind. I wonder if he has doubts too.
I am afraid.
The fear must show on my face or in my eyes. I feel an invisible tug, a slight whisper, within my heart, and when I look up there he is.
He stands there, glowing with an inner light, looking at me with those eyes. Eyes that I would, and have, drowned in for millennia. His hair has grown long in our time together. How I love to run my fingers through its silky strands.
He stands, hands folded before him, trying to not show how eager he is to reach out to me. A secret smile, tucked within a bright, shining grin, for me alone. I cannot help but smile back at him. I love him.
I am annoyed and angry with myself. Have I not fought for this, with every fiber of my being? Yes! Yes, I have, and I deserve him as much as I desire him. He smiles encouragingly and puts a hand forward. And it is then that I know, he still wants me.
I think back to something I said to him in the past. It is time to take my own advice. So, I push the doubt back behind the thick doors of my mind, mentally lock the doors and throw away the key. Nothing will ever come between us again. Not even me.
It hits me. He is almost mine.
I reach out and take the proffered hand, said hand sliding up as he pulls me close. We stand there, arms clasped, before the masses. The words are said, recited loud and clear. Silently I vow never to doubt, myself or him, again.
The ceremony comes to an end, we are married. He is my husband.
“Finally,” he whispers, when his hand cups the back of my neck. He brings our foreheads together, saying “Brother.” I pull back, looking deep into his eyes. “I’m not your brother…” I smirk, placing a kiss upon his lips, “I never was.”
He laughs, that deep thunderous rumble I love, kissing me again. He nibbles my lips, sighs happily, and all but moans “Mine.” right before he deepens the kiss.
Yes. And you… you are mine.