endless | hercy
When she opened the door, Hector felt the weight of the letter, folded small as he could get it, in his breast pocket.
Yours
Yours
Yours
“Mercy.” He said, his voice quiet, “I…”
Hector faltered. Words were not his forte, and as much as he wanted to reach forward, to hold her close and tangle his hands in her long dark hair, he knew it was no way to great a lady, and Mercy was not only a lady, but the one he…
“You as well.” He managed, rubbing a hand at his stubbled chin. It had been nearly two days since he had shaven, and he was certain he looked like a street rat at this point, a look he had managed to pull of as a younger man, but one he tried to avoid now, as it made him look far too much like a Vitello.
His eyes were locked on her. She was here. He was here.
Yours
Yours
Yours
“I got your letter,” he said softly, and reached forward, his body ignoring the screaming in his mind as he brushed a lock of hair behind her ear.
“Mercy,” He said again, She was here. She was safe. He was safe. His hand lingered, and when it finally fell back to his side, he took the smallest of steps forward and took a breath, deep, clean air.
He was a traitor to the Vitello name
He remembered his brother’s eyes on him as he left the throne room, the way his niece had cried out in the night.
Vitello no more.
He was simply Hector now.
The letter was weightless, but he felt it still, crushed against his heart.
“I love you.”
Chewing on her lip as he spoke, Mercy wasn’t quite sure what to expect. When he told her that he had recieved her letter, she was sure that her heart dropped. Pulse wild as though she couldn’t possibly contain her heartbeat.
Had he come to criticise her for taking the coward’s way out and write rather than summon the courage to speak to him?
No, that was not her Hector.
Perhaps it was merely just a courtesy, telling her that it was too late but he was too kind to leave her waiting in agony.
Either way she wasn’t sure that she wanted to here him finish the sentence he had started, beginning to interrupt him. “Hector, I-”
Then if her heart had been beating out of control it just about stopped. All it had taken was a simple touch. So light and yet she wondered if it might be her undoing. It certainly felt as though it could be if the pain she felt in her chest as his touch was lost was anything to judge it all by.
A step closer was taken by him and although it had been something she’d only recently realised she wanted, Mercy still found herself lifting a hand to lay it on his chest to ensure some space between them. She found herself struggling to coax air into her lungs, as though they refused to do their duty until thy knew where all this was going.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
The words echoed in her head
Never had a man said that to her.
Countless times she’d heard it from her mother or sister but never from a man.
“I-”
There was nothing she could say that he would deserve but the hand that had been so fleetingly keeping distance between them fell away. Her last attempt to push him away abandoned.
“I supposed you’d better come in then.”














