Somewhere in the night he'd lost track of where time ended and she began. Each moment that he spent with her was an affirmation of his own life, and of the joy that could be found even amidst the sorrow. As they came together, Solomon both surrendered and gained more in her presence than he had with anyone else in his past. In the sweet aftermath of her forgiveness and naive hope that the dawn would not bring their separation, Solomon slept soundly for the first time in months.
The pre-dawn is just enough to wake him, fate allowing him to absorb those first few moments before either of them knew the other was awake. He traces the whorls of her coat and the pattern of the rising sun across her back in that still quiet of pre-wakefulness. This, he thinks to himself, this should have been her first memories of him. To be wrapped in his embrace, kept warm from autumn's chill by his touch, so that when she rose to face the day it was not with fear but contentment. To know that he wanted her as much for her spirit as for her body, and that in the wake of their coupling, he would not leave her.
And he would not abandon her this time.
She rouses beside him and he smiles against the silver black of her coat, murmuring a sleepy assent to her sounding of his name. He lifts his head reluctantly from where it has lain across her body and trails kisses across her body until he can see the silhouette of her face.
"I am," he murmurs gently, his voice husky and deep with the remainders of sleep. Absently, he lowers his muzzle back to her body to straighten the silk sheets of her mane, toying with the pale strands until they lay obediently against her body.
Her compliment earns a soft chuckle from him, the corners of his emerald eyes creasing in mirth that quickly fades as somber regret reasserts itself in his mind. He does not know the words to say that will bridge the gap between his regret and apology. She seems to have moved passed all that he had done, and yet he can not forget the way she looked at him that night. The juxtaposition of the past against the way they had found each other last night was still too fresh in his mind for him to be anything but apologetic.
Thankfully, she saves him from turning too deeply to introspection by speaking again.
When you, she says, and instinctively he wants to correct her.
When we, he thinks desperately.
When we. His head shakes fractionally, ready to offer the words to dissuade her from leaving him, but he recognizes the finality in her tone. Solomon shudders, but it is not cold that makes his hide vibrate and twitch with denial. The finality of her decision clinks into place like a new set of shackles, reminiscent of those that he had worn for the past year.
He would not abandon her, but she would abandon him. Once again he would be left to worry if she was safe, or protected. He would have to live for months knowing that monsters like Cullen lurked nearby and yet be unable to stop them from getting to her. Solomon turns then, no longer content to steal his glances of her from the side in the pre-dawn light. He turns so that he can see her face as she seals their fate. Solomon has long since grown adept at masking his emotions, but the protective barrier is slow to slam into place this time. He had dared to let himself hope that this would be something more, something different. That they could begin a new life together, and that perhaps for the first time, he would not be alone on this path of grief. He would not be the only one to have known Uriah and to have known what it was to live without him.
His jaw clenches and he forces his gaze away from hers, disoriented by the moisture that gathers at the corners of his eyes. Crying is not something that he has ever done willingly before a mare, and he will not let Sabriel see his tears twice. The first time had been his fault - aided by Cullen perhaps, but ultimately his own fault - but this time, the fault lay with her. Even her admission of love is not enough to overcome the tidal wave of betrayal that threatens to drown him, and he breathes in slowly to temper his instinctive response.
He could drive her home. He'd done it before. Coda. Aine. Others before that. He could simply refuse to accept her decision and force her to see the reason in his wisdom. She was not safe here, she had proven that last year. The Cove, no matter how much it would hurt her heart, was infinitely safer than the Crossing. But if he did, would he be any better than he was last year? Valka's rebukes of him, coupled with those of Ysabel and Wren circle uncomfortably in his mind and he drags a slow breath in that rattles in his chest.
When he is certain that he has his emotions in check (although heavens only knows what will happen to anything in his way on the way home), he turns back to her.
"I will," he offers tightly. It is evident to him that she is trusting him with her emotion, and that he should be gentler, but it is so infuriating to him that he will lose her absolution the moment he has earned it. For a moment he only stares at her, the agony of his frustration written all over his face.
"I know it is not easy, but I wish you would come with me. You know better than anyone that it isn't safe here alone."
Unbidden, his mind chooses then to supply him with the memory of another's touch on her coat and he swallows hard.
"But you aren't alone, are you?"
The words have hardly left his mouth before he shakes his head and turns his gaze away from her, jaw once more clenched.
"Nevermind. It doesn't matter," he says, not wanting to widen the rift she is trying to drive between them. But it does matter, more than he thought it would. The possibility of Sabriel having someone else that she trusted with her safety feels both justified and more damning than it should.
"I will tell him." He says, his gaze fixated on the trees off to the side.
"I promise."
He steps backward, his imagination eagerly supplying her distaste for him. Had this all just been a ruse to wound him in retaliation for what he'd done? How else could he explain the way she'd come to him like a lover, offering forgiveness and absolution only to take it all away in the next breath? Separating from her now, abandoning her to the fate of the crossing and the monsters in it while possibly carrying their rainbow baby was nothing short of torture. Surely she had to know that. Had to know that she was resigning him to spending months worrying about her well-being, knowing that he could do nothing to help her if lightning struck twice.
Jaw clenching once more, he turns his face back to her, the tumult of his emotions swirling behind his gaze.
"He had better protect you, Sabriel. I need you to be safe." Rigidly he stretches forward to place a gentle touch on her cheek, although even this gentleness is a new level of pain. The words his gives next are hardly louder than a breath, whispered against her skin before he finally tears himself away.
"More than you know."
Solomon does not linger long. Only enough to hear whatever rebuttal she tries to offer, if anything, before taking his departure. He had seen the finality of her decision in the way she had looked at him, and had known that there was nothing he could do now to convince her. Whether she had meant to mangle his heart on purpose or not, it had come out far worse for the wear, and he was eager to distance himself before the damage began to fester.
Stallion | Dutch Harness Horse Mutt | Champagne Grullo Tobiano | 17 Hands | The Cove