H I M
The one he'd die for, wanted to kill him the same,
But death would be a guest he'd welcome, if she promised to sit by his grave.
................................................
H E R
If there was a list of all the sins she was t...
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There are people who have wanted him dead even before he was born.
He had befriended death at a very young age.
The little boy who was cutting logs in the forest so that his mother could prepare a meal for them, who had returned back to a burning house, had learnt it the hard way, that fire never forgives.
It only burns.
Scathes away layers of your skin as the most wretched of screams leave your mouth, as you watch your skin lump into a soft pink sheath before it darkens like the night, testing more than just your resilience.
Fire teaches you endurance, it teaches you patience as you wait for the wound to heal, makes you realise that despite everything, the hope of it healing is always alight in your chest. Doesn't matter if it leaves behind a scar as a reminder of its presence, you want it to heal. Always.
But there was a wound he never wished to heal.
For pain had made a home in his chest, and he knew well to protect his home before impressing the street.
He had copious numbers of scars on his body, but there was one scar that was more precious to him than any gift. He grazed the scar on his elbow, as the faint memory of who had tended to it crossed his mind, bringing a smile on his face.
"Why are you smiling, son?" The voice of his mentor brought him out of his thoughts, the reality pulling him towards its dreary embrace.
"It's nothing." He shrugged, facing away from him.
"I don't think she will come."Another voice interjected, the woman sounding too sure of her words. "I don't think she would've even understood the message."
"Why do you think so?"
"Of all the things the princess is, she definitely isn't clever enough to decode the message. I truly doubt she even found the note, she doesn't seem like someone who cuts her own fruits."
"Who even thought it a good idea to put the note in the hilt of the knife?" A new voice asked, bewildered yet amused.
It was his idea, Ofcourse.
He knew she would discover the note, and then him, eventually.
"Who else?" His mentor chuckled delightfully, giving him a pat on the back, "There's only one mind so twisted among us."
"Are you taking their side, Aarya?" He questioned, a small smile curving up his lips.
"We're all on the same side." The feminine voice cut in. "Which reminds me, aren't you supposed to be at the market right now?"
Without wasting another second, he mounted his horse, securing the scarf around his face, as he hurled the horse towards the intended direction. He skipped past several shops, before stopping by the end of the lane, as he tied his horse out of sight. He awaited her arrival, his patience a thin flame that was about to be extinguished.
