Chapter Text
With a tender touch, he slipped his arms beneath his mistress's sleeping form, lifting her from the worn wooden bench she'd fallen asleep on. Her head lulled towards his chest. The burn was familiar now, it was no longer a shock to him the way it had been so many months ago, making him feel as though he'd combust at any moment. Her hair was like fire in the dim candlelight, the flame creeping down into the depths of his heart and burning with more passion with every breath she let out against his chest, the warmth seeping into the fabric of his shirt.
With gentle steps, he weaved his way out of the library, careful not to bump her against anything, and into the hallway. The entire building was quiet, it felt as though the walls fell asleep when the people did so many hours ago. The lights were dimmer than he'd remembered, how long had they been in there together? The sky was beginning to kindle the softest shade of yellow, with the most vibrant shade of red following close behind. Where'd the night go?
Working his way through the building, he found her room and, without disturbing her too much, he opened the door. He walked into the room and towards the bed, setting her down carefully on top of the quilt. He gently pulled her boots off and set them by the end of the bed, noticing how she curled her legs up once he'd done so. With a soft smile on his face, he delicately pulled the quilt back and tucked her in beneath the thick fabric. She curled up even further into a ball, burying her face in her pillow, her hair covering her face.
His fingers burned with the want to reach out and brush the tresses of red away to reveal the soft features beneath it. God, it burned.
He shook his head and walked around the bed. He sat on the floor with his back pressed against the mattress, his gaze fixed outside of the balcony window, the panes slowly filling the room with with radiance. He laid his head back as he listened to the sound of her breathing behind him, listened to the sound of the world calmly come to life outside of his. He felt a gentle touch on his head, and without moving too much realized his mistress had stretched her arm out, her hand brushing against his hair. He found comfort in that.
His head swirled with thoughts, he felt as though he'd been drinking all night. His head was fuzzy with dreams he so badly wanted to have, yet he couldn't sleep. Perhaps it was his routine sleep rhythm preventing him from sleeping this close to morning, or maybe he was to a point where the adrenaline was kicking in from lack of sleep. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the fact that the love of his life laid behind him, fast asleep yet gently running her fingers against his hair in a way he could never do to her. In a way that brought him so much comfort yet so much heartache he felt as though two halves of his heart were waging a war with one another.
If only he wouldn't hurt anyone by letting his feelings out. If only he didn't have to tear himself apart night after night for the way he feels. If only he'd never taken on that assassination task. If only there'd been a warning. If only he'd never fallen in love with her. His head rang with "if only"s. He brought his hands to his face, dragging them down over his features. If only.
His hazy eyes were brought to life as the gentle caress of the dawn of a new day led him back to reality, and he realized that even with this pain, this torment, he'd never trade it for the world. He'd never trade his first real home, his first real family. His first love. The "if only"s disintegrated in the light of the sun, and he stood from where he was sitting. He brushed the hair from her face without care and stared at her momentarily, appreciating how the morning light warmed her skin. He smiled to himself before leaving the room, preparing himself for another day to rinse and repeat.