Yeah, so I decided to continue the story on, this time from Edge's point of view. Meh, it just didn't seem finished to me (although how this finishes, I've no idea. The third and probably final chapter is going through many senarios and none fit).

Oh yeah, and it's all from "You're all I have". Name change. 'Cause I love the song and I'm uncreative...

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You're cinematic, razor-sharp.

A welcome arrow through the heart

Twilight- come and now fading. Slowly he tries to will himself away from the window he's been leaning out of for the past hour or so. But to no avail. Even though he has a balcony, he still prefers to stand at the window and watch. It makes him feel less pathetic.

He wonders why he's doing this to himself- why he's torturing himself by watching this blasted sunset every night. He doesn't even really like sun-sets. Not that he prefers the dawn. Far from it. He loves the night- those glorious midnight-black nights, like they got during those brief few days on the moon.

And he supposes the twilight is pretty, with its many bright colours, but he's never been a person to be held down by beauty for long. Most of the time, he's just impatient with the twilight. Evenings which could be spent in devious escapades are now wasted in waiting, just because it's midsummer time and the sun can't make it'self set just a little bit faster to give him cover of darkness to sneak out.

Not that he wants to sneak out now. That's not why he's waiting. He hasn't wanted to escape the newly rebuilt palace in weeks (his steward had been praising his own good work for the King's change of heart. And as much as the man annoys him, he can't really will himself to tell him the truth).

But it's just in his nature to be impatient with the sunset. He's always been reckless, always impulsive always jumping off the deep end, without considering the consequences. Or something along those lines. To date, he's never really regretted any of his snap decisions. Joining Cecil and his party allowed him to escape the kingdom and the responsibility for a few months, gave him the chance to avenge his parents' deaths (only they never really felt avenged. Maybe because he still feels cheated of something), provided him with an adventure- fly to the moon, save the world, get the pretty girl.

Only she turned you down, an annoying voice from the back of his mind speaks. The voice that sounds like an oddly disturbing mixture of his steward and that FuSo Ya guy. The voice which keeps telling him to forget about nonsense like heroes and pretty summoners in green, which tells him to keep his head down and be a good king (with too much politics in his head for his liking). The voice that he can't ignore and can't help but agree with most of the time. Except when she's involved.

The voice can't stand her, maybe because she brings out all the things in him that the voice abhors (or maybe it's just because she hit him so many times) and repelled itself when she'd been around, left niggling doubts in his head about her when he slept, had screamed bloody murder when he had proposed. But he'd ignored it, been so caught up in impulses and fearing the looming feeling in his stomach, reminding him that he had no idea where they'd be the next day, or if he'd ever see her again. And after she had followed him to the moon, it seemed like a prospect too exceptional to miss.

He'd read it wrong though. In his arrogance, he had been so sure she felt the same, so used to being accepted by women, that he hadn't even considered being turned down by her. But it wasn't he- he doesn't know now how he had ever thought it had been him- who had driven her to the moon. And at the time, he had felt foolish to think that he'd stand up to Cecil's magnificence. He's handsome too, he supposes, in his own gruff, deeply scarred, smell ninja way, but Cecil's strength and beauty is more that of the chivalrous hero. Only he got landed with the job as well, which probably drove her away.

(Only she never seemed like the hero-worshipping type.)

Only, before he's shied away, before he'd turned his back on her and tried (and failed entirely) to fill his mind with the curvaceous bartender he was thinking of accosting- in the barest moment when their eyes had met, she'd shown no pain, no hurt, even while watching the wedding of her supposed beloved. Her eyes had only held warmth, delight and maybe a sparkle of hope- which he was sure he had imagined- in that moment theirs had met. And then that slightly wounded look he thought he'd seen in her face, out of the peripherals of his eyes, when he had turned away. But he could only be sure he had seen her happy for Rosa, to finally have her heroic knight. Rosa suited him more, he supposes.

So maybe he's wrong. Maybe Cecil isn't the problem (and he doesn't know if he ever believed that Cecil was really the problem or if he just wanted to believe it wasn't him). But then who? There had to be someone.

And it couldn't be Kain. On the rare occasion that his bad influence had gotten her too drunk for sense or reason, she hadn't made her distaste for the wayward dragoon subtle. Indeed, he remembers an occasion, where she made up a song, serenading her disgust for him- and forced half of the bar, Kain included, to sing along, although luckily, she didn't seem to remember and Kain didn't mention it. He laughs with the memory, but then stops and curses, trying to drag himself back from maybes and what could have been.

So maybe he's the problem- and again, everything comes back to that voice, a representation of himself, he fears, in several years time, stately and old and boring and no longer caring for all the best things in life, like profanities or womanising or getting under-age mages (who can't hold alcohol) drunk or bribing the guards to let you escape the palace for a few hours of debauchery. Maybe she can't stand it. Maybe knowing him like that is worse than dying in the underground away from her own world, before he's even reached 30.

Maybe she can't be the person that Rosa became- a dutiful queen. Maybe she needs the freedom.

And he's torn between wanting to blame it, wanting to blame his title for another love lost, another prohibition on his life, giving him another reason to leave it all behind- and wanting to believe that he's foolish for ever thinking that just because a girl travelled to the moon to help him save the world (not to protect him. He can't ever think those words) and just because that girl once whispered his name in her sleep (of course, she could have been dreaming pleasant dreams about the bard serenading her instead. But he doubts it- because her drunken rants have often included the topic of Edward's sexual orientation. Luckily never when he was around) and just because when he saw her face as he was about to leave in the Lunar Whale, he saw hurt and terror in her eyes, worry for his safety behind the indignation- that just because she seemed to care, that she's got to be in love with him.

And, even if it's easier, it hurts to think that he's imagining all these things, that it's his fault she doesn't love him. So he uses the job as an excuse. She can't stand it, and no matter how she feels about him, the job prevents her from acting on it. It's easier to blame something he can't change, and has hated all his life anyway.

Then he realises he would have wanted her to be stuck here (still sometimes secretly hopes that Troia will ask to take her as one of their elders). And it sounds like one of the most evil thoughts he's had, right after the queer desire to push Palom off the tower in Mysidia for winking at her (quenched when she patted his head). He hates this job, and to wish it on anyone- especially her- disgusts him.

But he would, because he wants someone else stuck in the same position as him, hates being the only one who is being forced into this. Because Cecil choose to take over as king and Yang is suited to it and Edward- well, he isn't really, but he seems to be getting on alright.

He scratches his head and tries desperately to think of some way that he and the bard differ in situation- they can't be as similar as she always claimed. They're both stuck, it's true- but Edward didn't have another choice. He lost his second choice and has to rebuild a new one. But he had one- a really good one. He could have thrown it all away and Elban to hell and ridden off with her into the sun set of that night.

And he's scared how angry he is at everyone- especially himself- when really, it's no one's fault. Just circumstances.

He can't be saved from this life- this duty- and he can't drag her into it, as much as he'd be prepared to. So proposing- even when everything seemed so over-blown and tinged faintly with a feeling of a fast-approaching close- was probably a bad decision. But, again, he can't regret it. He can't regret giving her the choice, instead of keeping both around and ending up having to choose himself- and choosing badly and losing something that he's learned to love (even if he hasn't quite saved himself from anything).

So it's better she's gone. And the kingly voice is thinking these thoughts and he can't disagree. But he can't help hoping. Which is probably why he's waiting, watching the sun set, far behind him now- willing it to come back, and draw her with it, hopeful for her to change her mind, to be Rosa and choose to be queen with him- except, would she still be who he wanted any more, if she did that?

So maybe he just wants her to be his salvation, and whisk him off into the sun-set- or maybe the night-fall. Whichever. He's confused now, thinking of himself as a damsel, instead of the hero. He doubts he's either.

He grumbles, knowing this means he should probably let go and leave the window. But it doesn't even tempt him. The twilight is long gone and so is she, but he can't help staying at the window and waiting for both.

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(A/N: I'm aplologising now for the 15th paragraph. Really not finished, but it has to end somehwere... Review if you like)