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Embrace
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Most, I say, but not all. For in the courtyard, bathed in silver moonlight, two lone figures stood, embracing each other tightly.
In gentle contrast to that was the warmth of his companion's body as she shifted her position slightly, allowing herself to fit better in the space of his arms. A soft murmur of contentment escaped her.
Franz smiled, and pulled her in just a little bit closer. The biting cold of night had yet to truly fall, but there was just enough chill in the air to allow him to be glad for her presence.
He closed his eyes, resting his head on her shoulder.
Warmth.
Officially, I said. For in truth, she hadn't joined Renais, nor its forces.
She had joined him. As she had stood, bewildered, trapped between fighting a war she could not believe in and casting her lot with a side she knew absolutely nothing about, he had stood there, patient in the midst of a raging battle, hand outstretched slightly as if to welcome her into the fold.
So she had stepped forward, hesitantly, towards him. A single nod, and the die was cast. Together the two had fought through countless battles, and though Amelia quickly made friends among the soldiers of the army, there remained a bond between her and the young knight that had first convinced her to take that leap of faith.
In times of sorrow and despair, she had found herself, almost instinctively, seeking him out – a friendly face to confide in and draw strength from.
She needed that strength now. And so she clung to him.
A lifeline.
She was silent, head pillowed on his shoulder. The smile on his face became milder, and his eyes grew hooded.
That smile vanished as he felt a tiny splash of water on his neck. Then another. His focus now returning to their embrace, he noticed she was now sobbing softly, her arms trembling as she held on to him.
He didn't want to see her like that. He liked to see her smile, her laugh. It was infectious, bubbly as a forest stream, cheerful as a summer morning. And so he held her close again, whispering soothing words into her ear as her tears continued to flow.
Comfort.
They were not tears of sadness – or at least, not sadness in the sense that one would expect.
Tears of realization – why had it taken so long for it to truly hit her? What he had done for her all this while, brought to glaring reality.
She remembered – the face covered by the imposing steel of his helmet, the battle axe raised, poised to be brought crashing down with all the malice he could bear. She had cowered, her weapon lying uselessly at her side.
As the memories flooded back, she involuntarily let out a tiny whimper, feeling her face burn from the shame the memory brought.
Her weakness disgusted her, made her want to run and hide. But instead, she remained there, holding on to him (or was it letting him hold on to her?).
Protection.
Silent questions bubbled to life in his head – had it something to do with the earlier battle? Had she been hurt? Why wasn't she saying anything to him?
He didn't want her to be silent like this – didn't she know he wanted to help? But he daren't speak out. What if she was offended? Or worse, what if her grievance was due to him?
The slightest of grimaces made its way onto his face. Why didn't she feel secure enough to confide in him?
He closed his eyes, bringing his arm back down to her waist. He wanted her to feel safe. He didn't want her to keep what was disturbing her inside – he wanted her to open up. Silently, he tried to communicate that it was okay. She needn't fear anything from him. He would be there for her, for anything she needed.
Trust.
He was gazing at her with a concerned expression in his eyes, but nonetheless he smiled reassuringly at her.
"Amelia… why are you crying?"
As if he didn't know! Amelia's gaze was drawn downwards, towards his shoulder, where the first traces of a scar was visible over the neckline of his tunic.
"You didn't have to do that for me, you know." She said tremulously. "You didn't have to take that hit for me."
Sacrifice.
The axe had bitten deep as he'd placed himself in between her and the axe swing, him stabbing forward with his lance to fell his foe even as crimson agony seared him. An act that'd left him incapacitated for the rest of the battle.
And now she was staring at him with tear-filled eyes, her last statement hanging provocatively in the air. He closed his eyes, wondering how he should respond.
"Let me be your shield to protect you…"
"And I will be your sword and fight for you."
His eyes still closed, he gave a tiny nod. "I know. I didn't have to do that."
Promise.
"I did it because I chose to."
"Dummy." She mumbled to herself as she slid close to him again. "You don't know what it was like. When I saw you lying on the ground, I couldn't…" She swallowed past the tightness in her throat. "I couldn't handle it."
She felt his arms embracing her once again, and she didn't resist, returning to gesture. As she did, she heard him speaking softly. "Why do you think I did what I did, Amelia? I wouldn't be able to handle it either, seeing you… like you saw me."
He chuckled sadly. "It's always a horrible choice to make, but ultimately, you'd rather bear the burden yourself than seeing someone you… care for get hurt instead, even if you know that person would be devastated at your choice. Is that bravery or cowardice?"
Amelia shook her head. "I don't know. But…" Her eyes drifted shut. "Thank you. For what you've done. What you were willing to do… for me."
Courage.
Most, I say, but not all. For in the courtyard, bathed in silver moonlight, two lone figures stood, embracing each other tightly.
Franz closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of roses that hung about Amelia. Amelia's chin rested on his good shoulder, her eyes closed as she focused on the warmth and the strength of the arms that held her close.
No words were spoken, no words were needed. Their simple gesture, their embrace, communicated everything they needed.
Strength. Joy. Peace. Kindness. Passion. Faithfulness. Gentleness.
Together.
Love.
Anyway, thanks for reading. Please review.
