Yes, there is. And for the inability to not have done that, I sometimes feel as if there is a hole inside the very centre of me. It is as if there is an emptiness that is so raw that it sometimes burns to the point where it will consume me whole. I wake up and I dream of that love that I once had with Sebastien. It was a love that even time could not erase nor replace. Every angel, every daemon stood stock still and didn’t dare to breathe for fear it would evaporate in a single moment; and I swear that it must have. All I ever wanted was just want someone to love me; and he was that someone. No mother, no father, no other lover, not even the Divine came close to that love. Maybe I’ve already had all of the happiness in my life that I ever can have. I don’t want to believe it, but the time is past. I often wake up remembering that sweet dream, only to realize that Sebastien is gone. There is only me and the memory of what once was, and that a part of me died with him that day.
“You said you’d love me forever!” I cried, my fingers traced a line through the blood that spilled from the gash in his throat. His blood mingled with my tears, and I wanted to will him back. ‘How much is enough? ‘I wanted to scream. But only sobs wracked my body as my lips brushed across the curve of his neck.
“Please, please, don’t leave me!” I whispered; as if my will alone could bring him back. But I couldn’t. My biggest mistake was loving a man with a reputation, a history. Never mind that this history, this reputation had nothing to do with who and how I knew that he was. From the moment we laid eyes upon each other, I knew – and he said he knew, too – that we were two halves of the same whole. We were nearly inseparable from that time, for years to come. We were happy, and those things of his reputation that he was known for mattered not. Gone was the murderous man who was bent only on vengeance. Gone.
Lest you think otherwise, let me assure you that nothing could have assuaged my grief where Sebastien’s death was concerned. A part of me will always be numbed and tucked away, wounded, bleeding and angry that I could do nothing to stop it. Not even in my love of him was to stop what he and I both knew was a painful inevitability. There were those who warned me not to traverse the slippery slope of the emotion of love, that I would lose too much of myself, forget the potential of who I was, what I had been or who and what I could become.
All I knew is that I loved him. I loved him beyond all reason, and it was because of that reason that my grief caved upon me like a thousand ton monolith burying me within it for many years to come. I bought the linen and made his burial shroud with my own hand. Every stitch I put in it was sewn with my tears in between. Even after he was lain to rest and his grave had gone to green, the sense of loss did not subside. I’ve spent the last five centuries missing him wishing there was something I could have done to have saved his life that day.
Muse: Fanny Fae
Fandom: Original Character
Words: 568
crossposted to
Life Belongs to Sekhmet 