AMALIA
THE SHIELD OF SAFRIN
i think it's beautiful how a star's light
Still he doubts, and the Shield wonders what his life had been before here, today. Oh, she knows he was a soldier, a son, a fighter, a king. She knows that there is blood on his hands that will never wash away, scars to mark his every wound, the lingering remnants of a revenant's past. But she does not know what left him so hollow, without an iota of love for himself. Was his generosity left unseen, his guardianship taken for granted? Was he never told he was more, greater than the sum of his mistakes, better than the blistering death in his hands?travels the universe long after it dies
Did he have faith in nothing?
Amalia has faith in the gods, and she has faith in him. "They will." Faith is Amalia's hallowed chord, her anchor in the storm. Faith is the rope she stays tethered to as the world falls away, ground giving out beneath her feet, threatening to send her spiraling down into the abyss. Hands slip down to his waist, wrapping around him, a gentle embrace, reassurance in the way her muscles contract, in the easy way he fits against her, in her cheek upon his breast. She inhales deeply from his scent, listening to his heart: a drumbeat, but nervous, quickened now. Amalia wants to tell him he has nothing to be afraid of, that he has earned it all once and again, but she knows the words will not be enough.
So she holds him, explaining in the language he speaks, action and adoration, devotion and prayer. Her face rises up as he makes his refusal, any momentary hurt quickly wiped away; she nods, understanding, remembering how it was, the pristine privacy of that moment, the intimacy of gaining another form. It is with pride and bliss that she hears his acquiescence, happiness for him as he agrees. He of all others deserves this, and Amalia touches his face again, her own alight with joy.
Rising up on pointed toes the Shield looks into her Sword's eyes, reassurance and adoration and pride and love in her onxy gaze. Gently she presses her lips to his, lids fluttering shut a moment; then she lingers, her nose beside his, their breath intermingling in the cold air. "Okay," Amalia promises, "I will be here when it's done." I will always be here for you.
That's what I want to be in this world —
someone whose light lingers after I'm gone
