Mark of Betrayal

Just before we reached the top, David quickly bent down and grabbed something, then stood back up again, smiling at his closed fist.



I stared at him quizzically.



To new beginnings, his voice came through my thoughts like real words, and he opened his hand, revealing a small red rosebud before pressing it between our palms, linking his fingers through mine.



And I knew what he meant; everything we were, everything we had grown to be had started on ground so shaky, and somehow, we’d survived. Somehow, the blossom of love we had between us had never died.



Ever since I first felt death in my life, all I wanted was to find my place in the world, and when I found it with this man, he was taken away from me so many times—our forever always a question—always only a hope we had for the future. But as we stood atop the step, two thrones behind us, hand in hand, eternity was no longer a hope, but a promise I would fight to keep.



I squeezed his hand and smiled up at him, feeling the cool flower between us; in this moment, anything was possible. Anything was acceptable. Our future might have looked grim to him as he faked the smile his people saw when the crown touched his head, but I knew in my heart that this little bud of life in my hand was the symbol of true new beginnings—a beginning together. I would be the saviour now. I would never let anything tear us apart, ever again.



He came into my life as just a boy who fought to be my knight, and turned out, in the end, to be a king. And I would not lose him. We once promised each other forever—nothing do us part—not even death. And from this moment on, I would keep that promise, even if it meant I had to betray him.