His body was lifeless, cold, and yet she clung to him like a child clutching a blanket. He was all she knew and all she had ever known. His eyes had watched her run and play as a child. His hands had bandaged her knees and wiped tears from her cheeks. The calm lilt of his voice still hung in her ears—whispers of promises, praise, and love. As she stroked the curve of his shoulder, she remembered the night he made her his bride. He was gentle then too. Others told stories of rough bedding, and wicked deeds…but not with her. The touch of his lips was soft and sweet; his hips slow, methodical, patient. he kissed her and smiled as he wiped away the blood with a clean linen sheet.
“You are mine.” He murmured as he cradled her in his arms.
“You are mine.” She murmured, running her hand through his hair.
She looked up through tears as the door open and a man clad in armor came through. The clink and clang of his blade against his suit was deafening and she curled up tighter against his body. The knight reached out his hand but she refused. He knelt by her side and she turned away. A cry escaped her lips as his hand grabbed her shoulder. She kicked and clawed but he was stronger.
“Please,” he said, turning her ashen face to him. “You are safe now, my lady.”
But he was wrong. She would never be safe again.