'Heaven's gates won't open up for me
With these broken wings I'm fallin'
And all I see is you
These city walls ain't got no love for me I'm on the ledge of the eighteenth story And oh I scream for you Come please I'm callin'
And all I need from you
Hurry I'm fallin', I'm fallin'.
Barantheon spread her arms out and glanced at the toy small city below her, even here the sounds reaching her ears of noise, of things lost, of things found, of the million things that would not mourn her going. She knew her wings would not carry her, she was not all she had been, yet as she contemplated the tall walls of the city that had become her prison cell.
She stared her destiny in its face and smiled. She was a singular beast and the fates would not destroy her, she would die as she had lived: free and wild. Her thoughts turn to home but she knew the gates of heaven would not open to one as damaged as her, one who had made peace with her darkness. She thought of him, his emerald gaze, her one mistake her mortal sin, the only thing she would travel through time for: one chance to soothe his bronze skin, to feel truly alive and whole in his arms, to taste immortality as she loved him but such was the stuff of dreams and she did not have time for dreams. Her shattered heart did not grant her the luxury.
When He had turned from her, something had died inside her soul. She became this thing with no right to exsist. Barantheon freed her hair and watched it whip in the wind. She looked the hole inside her marked with the word alone and she smiled at last the pain would end.
She breathed deep and leapt into oblivion and peace. As she fell she closed her eyes envisioning him, her light prince, the only one who had dared love her. Through a thousand wars a million times she had rose, but his betrayal had killed her, they may call it suicide but it was murder.
Amatheon felt the brush of something cold against his soul, and he ran faster still, he prayed he found her, her his lady whole. He berated himself a thousand times for his fear! He could still feel her as he pushed through the crowded streets he wondered what the masses had gathered to crow about, then all of a sudden she was gone. His connection to her servered as he pushed his way through the crowd his blood ran cold for there in the centre of the rabble her turquoise cloak spread out around her, lay Barantheon quite still her lifes blood pulsing out her veins as she died.
He sank to his knees, after his betrayal, after all the pain he had given her, she had struck the death blow and gone from him. He would never hear her voice again, never glory in her fine skin, never see the love that made him afeared at first light her brown eyes. Amatheon drew his broadsword, and before the crowd could stop him, he sheathed it in his body. He looked at her as the skies grew grey and his body grow cold, he may have been a fool in his life, but in death he was wise.
He would follow his lady, through hell or into the heavens of the Summerlands. This time no fear would come between them. . .
That night else where in Illyria, a wise man watching the stars noted two new stars in the night sky, glowing sure and steady next to each other. . .he noted it on his charts and coming as he had from the tragic funeral of Illyria's crown prince and his warrior queen. . .he called them The Lovers. . .
