A/N: Yo, I'm back, after sooooooooooooo long XP
Sorry for the delay, had (and still have) school and finals studying and AP Exams and the like. But now I'm back, with some snuck in writing time.
Unfortunately, for the past week, I've been feeling horrible. And this week is literally the worst time to be sick, because of tests and stuff. The good side to this happy story is the fact that being sick brought my mind back to the second part of this story.
And my brain was all: "Oh, yeah, remember this one? You haven't updated it in, like, three weeks." And I was like Oh, crap, maybe I should.
So here we are.
And without further adieu, I bring you all the second part of this (hopefully adequate) story. Prepare yourself for some heavy Jacinter fluff.
But before getting into the story, how about a Fact of the Day first?
Fact of the Day(4): The definition of a vertex is "three edges meet in a three dimensional object. Therefore, technically, a cone doesn't have a vertex, since it doesn't have any edges save for the bases.
Feel free to voice your opinions on that in your reviews, just keep it clean.
Please and thank you.
. . . I just realized that by consistently naming them I can efficiently keep track of the chronological order of which I published each story. Which is something I like to know, for some reason that I. . . well, I don't know, honestly.
Anyway-
Review, please, and enjoy!
Winter was dead.
How had she died?
It didn't matter; all he knew was that she was dead, and he wanted to be, too. Desperately.
Because what was the point of life, of anything, without Winter?
Nothing.
Blood was everywhere, from him and from Winter. Most of it was from her raw wrists when they chaffed and cuffed against her restraints as she had her crazy fits.
Perhaps that was how she had died: perhaps she'd been too crazy.
But Jacin didn't care. Crazy or not, her troubles were his alike, and she was his relentlessly shining star in a ruthless, unkind galaxy. She always had been.
And, as he fell to his knees by her blood-stained bed, he incessantly cursed the world that couldn't accept her, couldn't bear with the fact that she was perceptive, more beautiful than even the purest, because she was the purest of them all.
He had loved her, and now she was gone to insanity, as if sanity itself was eager to release her from its iron grip. No matter how hard he would try, he realized, he would never be able to save his Winter.
On his knees, beside the bloody, lifeless princess, he buried his head in his hands, and sobbed silently.
He bolted upright with a gasp, breathing heavy and eyes wide and wild. He remembered most of the dream, without really trying at all. But what immediately came to him was all blood and Winter and it just made his head hurt more and his eyes sting with tears.
He tried to regain his composure, succeeding minimally. When his eyesight adjusted at last to the darkness, he sat up carefully, ignoring the way the room spun. What he found in his room startled him.
All his friends were surrounding him in a sloppy semicircle, each cuddling in a shared sleeping bag with their respective partners. Winter, however, lay nearest to him, alone in her own bag, and she was, he realized, not asleep.
Bright, beautiful eyes stared back at him, before she climbed abruptly onto his bed, giving him little time for his fevered mind to react before she was settled between his legs. She faced him, mere inches from his face, but not quite flush, and began to hum a forgotten Lunar lullaby as she brushed her small fingers against his cheek.
When they came away wet, Winter's face took on a saddened expression, "Sad wolf."
He realized suddenly he'd been crying in his sleep, and Winter had seen everything: the silent tears, his body's reaction to the nightmare, the way he'd reacted when he woke.
Aces. This was going to haunt him later, wasn't it?
"I-" He began, voice hoarse from under-use. He coughed for several moments, begging his voice to work, "I'm so sorry, Winter. I'm sorry I couldn't save you."
She looked at him with fierce intensity, noticeably surprised at the use of her name, rather than the nicknames Jacin too-often used. Winter cocked her head, blinking at him slowly, and studied him for a long moment, "Jacin, you have always been my guard. You have never failed to save me, and you never will. And, besides, the princess can simply save herself if she must; she cannot rely on her prince forever."
She leaned over to grasp the towel on the end table, draping it across his head. He sighed in relief when the pain in his head and the heat in his body dissipated enough to be comfortable. It restored his nerves as well, so he didn't feel quite as shaky as before. He went slack, slumping exhaustedly against the headboard, his eyes beginning to slip shut reluctantly.
A weight rested on his chest when he was settled, and he cracked his eyes open. A dark blob rested on him: Winter. A small smile crossed his lips, and he wrapped his arms around his princess, "G'night Trouble."
She kissed the inside of his elbow, "Goodnight, my wolf."
For the first time in a long time, Jacin allowed himself to relax and feel as if he could sleep without distress haunting the back of his mind. He drifted off in no time, certain he could guard his princess.
A/N: I feel like that was an abrupt ending, but I loved how fluffy it was, in all honesty. I tried my best, but I feel like you guys can assess my writing better than I. It's like grading your own essay, y'know?
So review, please. Thanks :)
Here's my disclaimer, because I just realized I haven't disclaimed and I kinda don't wanna be sued, because I'm broke, so. . .
Disclaimer: Marissa Meyer, and all others own the Lunar Chronicles only, not me. Like, ever.