Talisto week 2019 - #2 Alone together

Mephisto has no delusions concerning his or his sister's fate once whatever became of Praxina, whatever is possessing her, is defeated – though they were young, lied to and without choice, they still stood with the man that took and ruined the lives of the Ephidian people. They still helped a tyrant cement his rule and terrorize the people into submission – and though their involvement thankfully would not warrant the loss of their lives, it would still end with them either in prison for life or shoved to the farthest and most isolated parts of the planet.

And yet, he lets his mind wander with what if's – what if they were on the princesses' side from the beginning? What if Prax and him switched sides before Gramorr's fall? What if after everything he (they) was allowed to stay? He knows his thoughts are irrational, that he is unworthy of redemption, of forgiveness – yet he still yearns for it more and more the longer he is with his former enemies, the more he learns of them as well as his new foe.

Sometimes he thinks this is the universe punishing him – showing him what he could have had: as he is falling apart in the arena, spent and on the verge of a breakdown as warm fingers caress his face calling his name in worry (something he never would have guessed, but then again the Xerin princess was no stranger to his plight) and it takes everything in him not to press into her touch, not to reach out and pull her closer and bury his face (along with his worries and insecurities) in her neck and never let go. But he refuses to give into his impulses, pushing her away and himself to his feet steadying his breath (his mind, his heart) and telling her to continue on. He pretends not to see the worry, confusion and hurt that flashes through her eyes and pushes through her training again and again and again until he's at the breaking point once more – and once more he pushes through stronger and more heartbroken than before. Then again, there is no one else to blame but himself.

He is at that point again, on his knees and broken, so broken, and her hand caresses his face as her tears slide down his cheek and her golden orbs shine with so many emotions that makes him realize she's broken too (and isn't it his fault too?) and just this once he let's go as he reaches for her face, gloved fingers wiping away the tear streaks and pushing aquamarine tresses away from her eyes. His voice is heavy and staggering as he calls her name and he feels something warm at his lips and at his side that he refuses to analyze at the moment, ignores it together with Praxina's anguished cry (he hopes with all his heart this would free his sister from Banes' claws) and the princesses' panicked cry for help.

Instead he concentrates all his senses on the woman cradling his prone form with all his might; the calloused fingers on his face, eyes full of worry and desperation and affection. The lilt of her voice as she demands he stays alive because dammit they didn't fight for him to die the last minute, the way it sounds as her demands turn to pleads, begging him to stay, to not leave, as please, please, please falls from her lips and he so wishes to obey her command. But his body is heavy and weary and he fights the feeling of being pulled under – the sound of her voice, the feel of her skin against him the anchor keeping him above waters if even for just a split second. His eyelids are heavy and he knows he lost the fight as the noises grow faraway and he feels not-quite-there but he doesn't mind. For that one last moment there is no one but her and him (alone and together – despite all the people around them, despite him pushing her away fearing the consequences if he didn't); her name falling from his lips in a broken sigh as a smile graces his lips before cold and dark envelopes his senses and he slips under.

Skillet's Anchor was on repeat for this one ;)