Disclaimer: Inkheart and Inkspell belong to Cornelia Funke

For Love

"But from that day, I never wanted to forget the memory of those two and the happiness they almost shared."
-Natsuki Takaya, Fruits Basket

He could not stand the nightmares anymore.

Dustfinger had lived one for ten years. Ten long years, far away from Roxane, Brianna, and Rosanna, wishing he would just wake up. Wondering if he had fainted on that comparatively beautiful day in the woods as Basta throttled him.

Now, he was a mere few hours into a nightmare even worse—Farid, dead, as cold as the stones in the mine.

Meggie's stumbling footsteps echoed as she left the cavern. How must the boy feel now, among the ghosts he so feared?

They hurt, both of them, Dustfinger and Meggie. And the only way to stop the pain would be to stop hoping. Hope was the hurt that reminded your broken heart it was still alive, not cold and immobile and forgotten how to love. But Dustfinger, hard as he tried, had not been able to forget Roxane.

He did not think he wanted Silvertongue's daughter to forget Farid, either.

He could picture the lips of the strolling players forming the story. A tragic love, a sad song; couples drawing closer as they listened, affirming their love before some unforeseen tragedy should strike them. Beautiful and bittersweet.

It was too late to stop his own story. He had heard someone drafting it in a dark corner—how Dustfinger the fire-dancer got his scar, how the lovely Roxane waited for ten years. How faithless he had been, in love with only the flames; no one knew the true tale, how hard and desperately he tried to return!

It stood like a glass wall between them. Too late.

Dustfinger did not want to forget the love the once shared. He had seen it in the eyes of Silvertongue's daughter, and in the boy's.

Their story, a whisper of words not yet set to paper… it could be rewritten.

He had always been so selfish. He loved Roxane, had gotten Basta's mark carved into his face for her, and yet he left her. Always, he left her, for the freedom of strolling and fairies and fire. Still, she had been devoted to him. They should have had a happy ending.

Farid, too, served two masters in his heart: Dustfinger and Meggie. Maybe, if he had just stayed with the girl… maybe…

The boy was simply too childish and idealistic. For himself, there was no excuse.

Well, let him be a selfish coward no longer. The happy ending he could not give Roxane, Farid and Silvertongue's daughter deserved. Let someone else, some other love so promising, have the second chance at what he and Roxane almost shared.

He hummed a song softly under his breath as Meggie's footsteps finally faded away.

Every story has a grain of truth to it. And he realized now the truth the old man had written for him. It was not that Gwin would be his downfall, but that Dustfinger would die for love.

Had the Black Prince known that when he said, "Who would you die for?"

Dustfinger had already made one story come to life—why not another? A fire-eater who bargained with death, who stole his son from the White Women in exchange for his soul and a fire.

The enigmatic, sad smile crept back to his face, and his dry laugh was inappropriate for the situation. This would probably prove to Roxane once and for all that Farid was his son.

Don't cry, he thought. I'm not worth it. I never was. Won't you watch over them and remember? I'll keep blooming flowers for you while I wait in death.

It would have been a beautiful life.

ROXANE

…
the end
…

-Windswift