TW: Violence, death

Part two—POV: The fool

Never in my life did I believe joy was meant for someone like me—someone who has stained this world with blood and grief. I have killed. I have bled. I have caused suffering. And yet, here it is. A sliver of joy, carefully hidden away, meant for me.

_Her_.

The most beautiful soul I’ve ever laid eyes on, the only one I wish to look at. I can’t even recall the words I spoke as I watched her laugh, though it was taut, strained.

Her black hair swayed with the motion, a ponytail that danced like a shadow in the wind, and dimples caressed the smile that stole my breath.

But then the laughter stopped.

The air between us thickened, and I stood there, smiling like the lovesick fool I’ve become.

“I need to tell you something.” The words slipped from my mouth before I could grasp them—before I could stop myself.

My hand moved from the dagger at my side, sheathing it, and I reached for her small hand, my calloused fingers brushing over hers. A warrior’s hands, strong and rough, holding her delicate warmth.

“Go on,” she said, her brow arched in quiet curiosity. Her gaze flickered from our hands to my eyes—an ocean of emotion swirling in her blue depths.

“I knew I’d regret it if I didn’t say it now, but…” I drew a shaky breath, and my words trembled in the air between us. “From the moment I laid my eyes on your beautiful soul, I couldn’t look away. I didn’t want to.”

Her lips parted, but I didn’t let her speak—not yet. Not until I had said what I needed to.

“Ever since you stood before me, dagger in hand, I knew you were the one I wanted to spend my life with. Call me crazy, call me a fool, but just let me be _yours_.”

I squeezed her hand, my voice thick with urgency.

“You are the reason I want to be better—to wash the blood from my hands.”

“Ronan—”

“Not yet, not until I’m done.” I leaned closer, breath catching in my chest. “You brought life back into me, Amelie. I don’t want to let go. I don’t want to see the darkness again. _You_—you brought me back from the dead.”

Her gaze met mine, and for a long moment, she was still, caught in a battle of thoughts I couldn’t reach. She swallowed, her throat working, and then she pulled her hand away, tucking it behind her back.

Her voice trembled when she spoke.

“I can’t, Ro.” She shook her head, her eyes glistening with something fragile. “We can’t.”

“Why not?” My voice cracked with desperation, a plea too raw to hide. “Tell me why.”

She shook her head again, more firmly this time. “It’s not right, and you know it.”

I closed my eyes for a brief moment, the weight of her words settling in my chest like stone.

“Amelie…” I whispered, my heart heavy with the truth I’d long been afraid to speak. “_I love you.”_

She shook her head again, and in the silence that followed, I knew.

“No, you don’t.” Her voice cracked, and the words shattered something deep inside me. “I don’t.”

I watched her hand move from behind her back. The gleam of silver caught the light—obsidian. The blade I had given her.

Time seemed to stretch, each second more unbearable than the last. I didn’t need to see the strike to know what was coming. I was already drowning in those ocean blue eyes, watching her as if she were a dream about to slip away.

Her movements were swift, practiced. A flash of steel.

Then, the searing pain.

The blade sank deep into my chest, right through my heart. I felt the heat of blood spilling, but I didn’t gasp, didn’t cry out. I held my breath, unwilling to break the silence of my final moments.

I memorized her face, the one I had loved, and now, in this cruel twist of fate, the one who had killed me.

And somehow, in that moment, death didn’t seem so terrible.