The Sunspire For in his eye were stars that burned

It was a truly disturbing scene, to see a man dying in such a violent and painful manner, but this was not the first time she had seen her husband in such a state. No, this very scene had been repeating many times before. First when he had arrived on Teaghlaigh’s doorstep, marred with the after-effects of the Woods’ goodbye present. Then there had been the hunt-gone-awry, where he had been clobbered by the king elk. Then there was the fateful encounter with the hellhounds, who had branded her husband a traitor — she had found him starving near Moonspear, and dying after she had left their uneasy company. As a nurse, Olive was used to this.

But as a once-wife, she could never become used to this. To see Dakarai in such pain — she felt it very much in her own heart, her own flesh, so intertwined were their souls. Because of this, Olive knew this time were different.  Her knight was dying, and they both knew it. Though her heart thudded in her chest, no panic arose. Olive knew she would, finally, be fine — in fact, she would be free. Dakarai too would be free; free of a life that was so very cruel to him, so very often. As weird as it sounded, they both deserved this — and it was not a bad thing. 

Dakarai, through shuddering and pained breaths, uttered his apologies and issued his last goodbyes. Olive wanted to disagree with him, but knew he was speaking the truth, but she would set him at ease anyways. Who was she not to soothe a man with lies that were of no consequence now? Yes, he was an awful father and yes, he made horrible choices (so did she, but whatever) — but Dakarai’s soul was good, and that’s what he would soon be. A soul, and nothing more, without the world to weigh him down.

With a glance over her shoulder to ensure a wayward puppy had not stumbled onto the scene, Olive snaked herself alongside Dakarai, incidentally smearing her pale pelage with his thick, crimson blood. She did not care. “No, no, shhh now,” she cooed, a sob rising unbidden in the pit her throat. “You did nothing wrong.” The fae inched closer. “The past is the past.” She moved her mouth close to his last remaining ear and whispered unto him “You and I are infinite. “

Olive wondered what more she could do for him. Star stories and healing were not made for this moment. Perhaps seeing how life perpetuated in the forms of her perfect little babies would ease him into a peaceful death; or, as peaceful as his injuries would allow. Whether the certain scars to their fragile little psyches were worth providing such comfort to a dying man, she was sure — the lessons of life and death were invaluable to them, really, but Olive would not leave Dakarai’s side unless it were at his behest (or the immediate need of her children).