Curse of a Man
The Microfic/Drabble Meme
Requested by: Nico-chan (Livejournal, FFN)
Fandom: Tales of Symphonia
Was this destiny? Fate? No, seeing the lines around her mouth and eyes deepen with time, noticing the little things she could no longer do for herself—watching her grow old and weak—it was a curse.
He'd known that he would long outlive her, that he would be unable to stop time or make her live forever…but he couldn't help but hope that life—the brief eternity that it was—would, at the very least, seem to last and last.
But here he was, holding her hand, telling her that everything would be all right. A long time ago—a blink in history for him—she would have slapped him across the face for doing so much as touch her. Genis and Lloyd would be laughing in the background; Raine and Regal would shake their heads, small smiles of amusement on their faces. Ah, they would think, sharing a glance, to love and live and be carefree like that again.
And now, he realized, pulling her blanket up to her chin and tucking a few loose graying hairs behind her ears, he had an inkling of what they might have felt like, watching their not-much-younger-in-age, but mere-children-at-heart companions. Oh, but the duke was dead, Raine had disappeared, and he had not spoken to Genis or Lloyd or Colette in many years…
She stirred lightly in her sleep, and he brought a hand up to her face, letting it rest there for a long moment until she settled. Her skin wasn't smooth anymore, her hair wasn't soft and shiny and as dark as the night sky; she needed help to get to the bathroom and her breasts were sagging and her eyesight dulled with age, but he would not want to go back and change a thing. If he squinted at her hard enough, he could almost see her as she had once been. Her dazzling smile—when she would grace him with it, that is—her hand on her swollen belly—oh, seven months along and still gorgeous—her gentle whispers at night and her fiery temper that would flare up at the most random moments—anything and everything about her that he had come to love.
He closed his eyes and sighed, pulling away. It was a curse, a terrible, earth-shattering, soul-sucking curse…but was it his curse? The curse of the Chosen? Of an angel?
No, he thought, watching her sleep. It is the curse of a man, a man in love.
And no matter what, he could not force himself to regret falling under its spell.
Just a short piece. Ah, but you've got to admit… Falling in love is a curse in and of itself, though not necessarily a bad thing.