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She was still naked when he told her. Mere moments ago she felt beautiful and confident, but now she couldn't feel more vulnerable.
She tried to understand why he thought he needed to leave. He explained to her the visions, the moments of fear that struck when he should feel nothing but ecstasy.
She could see the tears building up inside those emerald green eyes as he called himself a coward.
She wanted to grab him, tell him it was okay, he didn't have to leave, they could work it out together, everything would be alright.
She insisted they could undertake this, but she let him walk away when he said he was sorry, all the while still baring her crest upon his hip.
She knew something like this could happen. He was dangerous, an escaped slave with too much pain to bear alone. Yet that was how he wanted to deal with this; alone.
She was the one to pursue him. Quick witty flirts and soft touches when she could steal a moment. The pining, the longing after him when he chuckled at her jokes or screamed in battle.
She fell fast and hard.
She had been warned, multiple times. But at the end of the day, she had been the one to kiss him. Wanting him so badly she blinded herself to his flaws, his scars from a life he could not even remember.
She understood why he left her. Of course he needed time. Space. He needed to patch himself up, to heal where she had torn open old wounds.
She understood. But the understanding didn't stop the tears escaping from her eyes the moment he was gone.
She could feel the sobs rip through her entire body. Uncontrollably shaking, she felt each cry shudder through her arms, her toes. Clutching her knees to her breast, she tried to make her body as small as she felt inside. For a moment she had everything she wanted, she had bliss.
She didn't think she could feel this fragile.
She wasn't practiced with love. Throughout her life she's had plenty of lovers, sure, but she never had lasting feelings for them. Simple pleasures, nothing more.
She was no stranger to waking up to her previous night's lover missing from beside her. But this was different. This one mattered.
She can still feel his touch lingering on her skin. Fingers tracing where he had left light red marks, fading all too quickly.
She wanted to memorize the artwork of his body. Every line, every forgotten scar, every pain ridden lyrium line, she wanted to study the map of his figure, becoming an expert in his beauty.
She dwelled on his words. He said being with her gave him visions of his past, but for her it was the opposite. For a moment she saw their future.
She saw them holding hands, kissing by the fireplace.
She saw laughter and tears.
She saw them arguing over what to have for supper.
She saw them getting older, having children, sharing dreams.
She saw a life.
She saw what she wanted, what she needed. To see that go, leave out the front door before she could even truly consider it a possibility... that hurt more than any injury ever could.
So she cried until she she couldn't feel anything at all.