When Bastian stepped out of the tent he had to steady himself. Blinking, he looked to the grey sky, fat snowflakes drifting from its clouds.
He closed his eyes and inhaled and exhaled slowly. Her shining grey eyes appeared in his mind, swollen and filled with twirling emotions. He'd broken her. Because he hadn't been there to protect her, she would never be the same, that same Hydrangea that was so noble and caring. So heartfelt. He'd broken that heart, she was broken.
He inhaled a shaky breath and then forced his hands to work. As he ran his knife over a rock with expert hands he thought of how her body had trembled in his arms. The sobs that had wrenched his heart and made him cling to her. He couldn't express his sorrow with words.
He found some old dead rabbits and skinned them, all the while his thoughts rested on Hydrangea. His skin chilled at the remembrance of the fear that had driven him, the anger. All of that only to be replaced with dread and sorriness.
The meat seared in the heated pot and he stirred in some carrots too. He added a few seasonings, remembering what Brigitte had taught him, and then he mixed in a bit of snow.
When it was finished, it didn't taste the best, but it was warm and savoury. He filled a bowl and ducked back into the tent.
He found Hydrangea sitting up, her knees bent as she watched the entrance with a stormy expression.
He hesitated, he couldn't figure out why she was angry. He swallowed and, watching her like she was a beast ready to pounce, he edged to sit next to her, his legs crossed.
He faced her as she sat perpendicular to him. He pursed his lips and then began to eat his soup, his eyes never leaving her angry face.
He eventually moved his gaze to his rapidly cooling broth.
"Why were you in there for so long?" She asked, her delicate brogue trembling as her eyes were still fixed on the entrance.
He blinked and cleared his throat, "It was crowded and it took me quite awhile to find out wha-"
"If you hadn't been in there so long, then I would not 'ave tried…" He watched as her eyes fractured then hardened again, "I would not 'ave…"
"Hydrangea…" He tried as he set his bowl down.
"No!" She yelled and he saw her fists clenched and then splayed. Her eyes burned through him in anger, "No, no you don't get to try and calm me down." She said in a frantic voice. He'd never seen her this upset.
She sat up further and caught her head. He reached out his hand as he moved to balance himself on his knees. She shoved it away and pushed out of the tent.
He followed right on her heels and saw that she was standing at the edge of the cliff. His heart leapt from his chest and he rushed to her.
She turned to face him her face smouldering. He tried once more to reach out to her, to try and grasp what he was sure was her failing control, "Hydrangea, please… just step away-"
"Why didn't you come back out? Why didn't you… you get the information sooner?" He swallowed painfully and felt the heavy weight of guilt and anger at himself. She was right, if he'd just been there sooner, "If.. if you had I would never have tried to leave, I would never had tried to-to…to…"
He saw her anger fall away and be replaced by pain and tears. He moved a step forward and then another, her shoulders shook as she succumbed to sobs. Finally reaching her he tentatively wrapped his arms around her and she buried her face into his chest, her wrists curled up in front of her.
"I don't want to do this anymore." She spoke into his chest. Meaning the running, the constant worry and fear of death or attack.
"I know, I know." He replied, "I don't either."
He slowly moved her away from the edge of the cliff and held her as she once again broke down to her emotions. He closed his eyes as he swayed back and forth, trying to soothe her sadness. His hand rubbed her back and he realized that it was freezing and she didn't have her fur cloak on.
Once he'd managed to get them both in the tent he sat with her, waiting patiently for her to reach a calm.
~~~~~~~~~~
"I'm sorry." Hydrangea apologized after having been quiet for a long while.
"Shh… you've nothing to be sorry for. Nothing. If anyone's to be sorry it's me." He said into the top of her head, inhaling a faint floral scent amidst the drying blood.
"Why are you sorry?" She asked as she craned her neck back to meet his eyes. Those silver eyes swirled with too many emotions to count; her lashes were soaked and stark against her pale and slightly blotched skin. His eyes moved to the purple bruise that framed her left temple and eye.
He stroked her cheek and felt relief when she didn't jerk away, though she did tense. He sighed before answering her, "I… I failed you. I wasn't there to protect you and you got hurt. And I'm so sorry."
She shook her head, her sorrow filled eyes holding his, "Then maybe it was both our faults." She murmured as she dropped her head to land on his collarbone.
He squeezed her tighter, rubbing her arms, "Maybe. But…" He wasn't sure if it was too soon to say this, but in a way, it helped to calm him, "It's in the past now. And somehow we'll get stronger with this."
He lowered his head once more to rest on hers. He couldn't tell her reaction but he hoped that his words could've possibly helped.
That night she didn't sleep in his arms and slept next to him, under the same blanket. He still could not sleep. He blinked rapidly whenever his lids began to droop, feeling heavier than usual.
She shifted next to him and rolled into her side so that she faced away from him. He exhaled through his nose and began to feel the tendrils of sleep claim him.
He drifted from a dreamless sleep into a dark hallway lit only by the moon and few lanterns. Before him stood a vague figure, a sword in his hand. Bastian fought him with all his might. In the end he emerged from the battle victorious, but not without wounds.
He turned his head upon hearing his name called. His heart pounded, recognizing the voice. He raced through the sandstone halls with fear written on his face as he called a name urgently.
His feet flew down a flight of stairs and stood still for a moment before he rushed forward to a limp figure at the foot of a throne. He knelt and pulled the person into his arms, heedless of the blood, he brushed her raven black hair away and choked on his own breath upon seeing her face.
Bastian sat up gasping and looked next to him to see her still lost in sleep. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes; he desperately hoped that what he'd seen now three times in his dreams was not true. He desperately hoped that Hydrangea would not die.
Samadur had said that they would lead this country together, she was not going to die.
He drifted to sleep with her lifeless eyes branded into his mind.