In My Dreams, And You Come Back To Me

He wept. For a future he had no control over, he wept.

She would not live long after this, and her death would not be pretty. But he couldn’t look back.

Duty.

He wept. For memories of a woman who would die, whose death would be on his hands, he wept.

And in that twilight between one decision and the next he felt he heard a silent starlit caress, telling him she understood… But that was hope. Hope that she would forgive him. A dim hope. But hope.

And so he wept. For a future that would see the light, but would not see her, he wept.

And that next day in War, he stilled his tears, stilled them for Duty. He would see Light conquer Dark, he would see a purpose to losing the one he held most dear. He would seek her forgiveness.

But he would not survive this War. Could not. Because he could not live without her.

And as the weeping horns called forth Dark’s final retreat, he knew her last breath had been taken. He knew it, felt it on the wind.

And he wept.

They asked him why, why when the Light was conquering the enemy, dimming the Dark, why did he weep.

And he answered. He wept for love. Love that he had to lose so that this day could triumph. Duty that saw him choose his people’s safety over his sweetheart’s life.

And he wept. And strode further into the leaving battle, knowing his task was done, knowing his people had all but won. Knowing, and weeping. Finding one last enemy to give him hope.

Finding one last battle.

And he wept, feeling his sweet wife’s cold caress upon his ruby heart, feeling steel pierce flesh and spill forth sacred life.

And he smiled, seeing her forgiveness as she descended stairways of clouds to gather him near. Gather him close in sunlit dreams.

And in death she came back to him, brought him to forgiveness and his loving requiems.

The last day on earth, the end of the world, and she came back to him.