As Bastian walked, his feet dragged from a massive weight. His head was heavy from the energy he'd expended that day, and from the anxiety that had been eating away at him.
He bowed his head when he came to their bedroom. His mother had said that she'd talked to Hydrangea and that she had seemed alright.
He breathed out a long breath before he turned the door knob and walked in.
No candles were lit and he found himself peering into the dark. Very little moonlight was shining, the rain was still dismally pouring down. Glancing over the room he caught sight of her.
She was seated by the window, a small amount of moonlight glowing through the clouds and illuminating her. His chest swelled with warmth at her sleeping face, so peaceful and precious.
He removed his boots and moved quietly to where she was. He smiled when he saw she'd been reading, and his smile turned to a smirk when he saw what.
'Art of Love'; a well-known book on different sexual positions and techniques that strengthen a couple's bond.
He shook his head amusedly, but his expression slowly sobered. He still wanted to do something special as a goodbye to her, he knew it would be agony for both of them. They hadn't been apart for months, nearly the same amount of time it would take for him to leave and return.
He walked into the closet and returned dressed in night clothes and had a similar garment for Hydrangea.
As soon as he removed the upside down, open book from her fingers she inhaled sharply and he watched as her eyelashes fluttered. She blinked blearily and he found himself smiling, enchanted by her beauty.
"Bastian?"
He looked up when her quiet voice roused him from his trance. He hummed in response.
"You're still here."
His brow creased at the conflicting emotions in her voice. She sounded pained, yet relieved.
He crouched down and raised his hand to cradle her cheek, "I am."
She didn't reply and only held his eyes. Those eyes… they were indescribable; perfect in every way, pure silver.. and heartbroken.
After what felt like an eternity she looked down, and whispered, "I should change."
He nodded and silently handed her the soft nightgown he'd found for her. She whispered a quiet thank you and then got up and walked into the closet.
He ran a hand through his hair and rested it on his neck. He was speechless; he could find no words in his entire vocabulary that could possibly ease their parting.
He didn't realize that Hydrangea had finished changing till she was at his side, her small hand on his arm. He inhaled a breath that shook as it entered.
He could do this. It was all for her, after all. It was a small sacrifice if she was going to be safe. He repeated in his head as he had many times before. But he wanted to be selfish, he wanted to steal her away, just to have her with him; his support, his comfort, his happiness, and he couldn't deny, his lover. But he couldn't. He took a deep breath. She would be safer here than with him.
He wouldn't admit it to himself, but he was afraid. Afraid that if he spent too much time away from Hydrangea, he would fall back on his old ways. But he wouldn't admit it to anyone, not even himself.
Her fingers trailed down his bare skin and to his hand, running across some of his scars. The memory of her soft fingers tracing along them danced through his mind and his expression only sobered more.
He raised her hand to his and kissed her knuckles.
Without a word he began to walk towards the bed, and she kept in step with him.
She crawled beneath the blankets first and he went after, his arms immediately seeking the comfort he found in holding her.
He couldn't find a way to say goodbye. He felt foolish; he always knew what to say. But it seemed as though his precious flower was also at a loss for words.
He closed his eyes and lowered his nose to the crown of her head. Breathing in her scent she suddenly raised her head from his chest, "Promise you won't leave without saying goodbye."
His hand went to the nape of her neck and said in a voice that he cursed for being unsteady, "I wouldn't dream of it, darling." He swallowed when his voice caught.
He saw her eyes take on a sheen and saw her lips part sadly.
He closed the inch of distance between them and took her lips in his mouth. When would he next taste her? Feel her? Hold her? Hear her sweet voice and see her beautiful face?
She released a shuddering breath into his mouth and he did the same. He wished he had the words, but he didn't. So, he did his best to communicate his thoughts through the kiss.
He moved his other hand to the small of her back and pulled her closer while deepening the kiss.
He angrily attacked her lips and felt her shiver in his arms, her hands clutching his shirt tightly while her lips fought back.
He could feel her anger, he was angry too. It was unfair. Why should he have to leave her behind? He pushed out his reason for a moment and just felt her; her warm, soft body perfectly conforming to his.
He gasped and parted from her when he tasted salt water. He looked to her eyes and saw her tears falling across her face while they lay on their sides.
"Don't stop." She said breathlessly and he didn't hesitate before once again kissing her.
The night slowly drew further on and she soon fell asleep in his arms, her hands still clenching his shirt. How could he leave her? He could. He closed his eyes and pictured himself returning after his voyage and seeing her safe and sound, Cadarama free and their world now secure.
He couldn't sleep and only drew circles on her back and played with her hair. He wished he could imprint every detail of her in his mind, trace every inch of her with his fingertips, but he did not want to disturb her sleep.
He was fixatedly twirling a strand of her hair between his fingers when he heard a knock on the door. He snapped his head to look out the windows and saw that it was still dark. The rain was still berating the gardens.
He carefully slid out from the bed and walked to the door. He cracked it open, but upon seeing who was there he swung it open.
"My Sovereign, I've just discovered that Lord Stone has plans to burn the Venerable this morning, we must get underway if we are to make it in time."
Bastian's face fell. He closed his eyes and nodded before answering Hugh, and saying, "Gather everyone, tell them that we're moving now. Everything is aboard?"
"Yes, my Sovereign. All except a few personal items."
"Good. Go. I will be there in a few minutes."
Hugh bowed and hurriedly ran down the hall to collect the few men that were willing to travel to Membentuk.
Bastian shut the door and turned slowly to look at the sleeping figure of his wife. Her lips were parted slightly as she breathed through her mouth. Her wrists were curled, as per her habit.
His heart clenched and he walked towards her and pulled the blankets higher around her shoulders. She was always so cold.
Walking into the closet he exited wearing clothes similar to what he'd been wearing for far too long. Although it was like a second skin now.
He tightened his belt and folded the collar of his coat. They would be wearing masks to infiltrate the palace shipyards.
His feet padded to the bedside and he leaned over her, placing a kiss on her clear forehead he whispered goodbye. He walked to the door and pulled his boots on. Glancing at the table, he left her his gift, and prayed that she would understand.