Between Bruises & Blooms

You knew
you were leaving.

That is the part
I cannot forgive.

Somewhere
inside those twelve hours
she would later lose,

you knew.

You knew
morning would come
without you.

So you married her.

Not with flowers
and friends
and some beautiful
carefully chosen tomorrow.

In the middle
of a war.

While darkness
was already
taking pieces of you.

You put
a Riorson ring
on her finger.

Made her
Duchess of Tyrrendor.

Put your home,
your title,
the land
your father died for,

into her hands.

And then
you left her
at Riorson House

with no memory
of becoming
your wife.

God,
Xaden.

What kind of love
does that?

The kind
that has already decided
it is dangerous
to stay.

The kind
that prepares
an inheritance
instead of
a goodbye.

The kind
that cannot promise
I will come home

so it says

take everything
I have
if I don't.

She wakes
wearing forever

with no memory
of saying yes.

Her husband
already a ghost.

His house
around her.

His province
beneath her feet.

His name
attached to hers.

And only
a few words
left behind

where he
should have been.

Don't look for me.

It's yours now.

As if she wanted
Tyrrendor.

As if she wanted
Riorson House.

As if she wanted
his title,
his power,
his protection.

When the only thing
she would have chosen

was him.