He held her in his arms, shaking. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing but shallow, so shallow that he couldn't hear. Her wound was closed - he had made sure of that - but she had lost enough blood that he knew he might have been too late. He hated that; it couldn’t be true. Her tunic was stained in it, her sword too. The culprit laid dead, several feet away, but he dared not take his eyes off of her. He wasn't sure there was much left he could do. But he would try.
Aerin’s eyes flickered, giving a sharp breath inward. He stared in amazement, his eyes burning, threatening to spill tears. He blinked hard, refusing to let his vision of her blur before him as she stirred.
“Asher.” Her voice was weak but a small smile came to her pale lips anyway, golden eyes fixated on him.
“I’m here,” he mumbled, his voice thick and rough. “I’m right here.”
“You saved me... didn’t you?”
He wasn’t sure what to say. She had told him to get behind her, to stay out of the fight. She was always shielding others, even if they could help. But when the sword went through her stomach, a feeling dropped into the pit of his, weighing heavily. He stood, rooted in his spot, watching her fall to one knee, the sword still lodged firmly in her side. He wanted to call out to her, to run to her, to do anything, but he was paralyzed. The blood - her blood - dripped off the sword tip, out through the back of her tabard.
Aerin took her own sword, the blade named Lightcaller, and thrust it forward, as fierce as ever. It entered the man’s heart and, for a moment, Asher could have sworn that he saw a faint glowing around the greatsword. She withdrew the sword and the man fell immediately, crumpling into a corpse before he hit the floor.
She tried to stand, wobbly. As if the curse was broken, he ran to her, calling her name. She took one, two steps to him, and fell over as well. The blade was still in her when he reached her. She had fainted. He worked on her, lending his magic to heal her, hoping she would be okay, that he had been in time, that she would live.
“I... I just... wanted to make you better,” he said in a low voice, trying desperately not to crack, to break down right then and there. He had to be strong, for her.
The cold plate of her gauntlets brushed against his face, her eyes closed but her lips smiling, her voice so faint.
“You always keep me safe.”
Her hand dropped heavily and she gave a sigh. Asher’s eyes widened in surprise, instinctively put a hand on her stomach and lightly brushed against it, his palms glowing white. He could feel her lifeforce swirling under her skin, faint, attempting to stabilize. His fingers were shaking but he tried to lend his Light to her, to make sure she wasn’t hurt, wasn’t hurting.
“I’m okay,” she murmured, eyes still closed. “I’m... so tired.”
He couldn’t stop himself any longer. He lifted her up and wrapped his arms around her, holding her head against his chest. “Go to sleep,” he said thickly, his eyes starting to swell with the tears he forced back. He brushed back her bangs and kissed her forehead. “Go to sleep. I’m with you. I’ll keep you safe.”
She whispered something that he could not hear and gave another sigh, falling into a deep sleep. He sat there, holding her, stroking her hair, touching her skin lightly. The tears were streaming down his face freely, quietly. She was saffe. Aerin was tough, she would be okay. He would make sure she would be okay.
He went to kiss her forehead again but stopped himself. Asher had told himself to bury these feelings, that this wasn’t appropriate, as a cleric or as her healer. He was in a prestigious order, one that required his utmost loyalty. His feelings did not belong to himself but those he was to serve. But here they were, rooted deeply in his chest. His horror at her fall, his relief at her resilience, his jubilation at her victory... his heart soared as she called him name, her face as bright as the sun when she smiled.
He loved her so deeply, so completely. He loved the stubborn way she shouldered the world, the messy way that she handled tricky situations, the confidence and cockiness behind that smile as she swung her sword. He loved the way that her trinkets held such a meaning for her. He loved the compassion she shared with the weak and the fearful, those who needed her protection the most. He loved the delicate way she placed her hand on his, to reassure him that everything would be okay. He loved her more than he could say.
Gently, as to not wake her, he rubbed his face and his eyes. The sun was setting now and the party would be worried about them. It was a fair walk to the tavern but he was sure that he could make it. He had to. She needed food and warmth and comfort. Asher wrapped one arm underneath her knees and held her back with his other, slowly lifting her up, bringing her body into his chest. Her gilded armor weighed heavy but, somehow, felt a little lighter with each step. Soon, she would rest. Soon, she would be better.
Her sleeping face seemed almost peaceful. He allowed himself a moment to look at her, to actually see her. Her eyelashes were long and dark. She had a faint scar above her left eyebrow, barely noticeable. Aerin even had the lightest of freckles dotted on her cheeks and nose. How much had he missed when he had turned to face away from her, to keep himself honest? How much more would he?
No more. He served her now, this girl too brave for her own good. He was there to keep her safe. He would face her and never turn back.
