Playing the God

I`m not sure what this is. Just wrote this yesterday.

Despite the heaviness of his soul the weather was beautiful and almost summer-ish. The sun was up on the blue sky like every day, shinning wildly and uncovering the shadows of the forest below him. A laugh of little elflings playing in the gardens was joyful and full of life.

Despite all of this, he didn`t feel full of life like others. He was dying inside. But it wasn`t the worst fact yet. The worst fact was that his wife was really dying and not just inside. He didn`t have to look behind to know that she was sleeping heavily, in the middle of the day like always. He didn`t have to look to see her wrinkled face and skinny body under the covers.

The known ping of pain, catching his breath said hello again. There were the doubts and thoughts. The pity and the anger. Like always.

He knew that those are probably the last days he could hear her breathing, see her tired eyes and a weak smile. He was supposed to enjoy those last days. But damn it how? How when he couldn`t even imagine her gone? How he was supposed to sleep without hearing her breath next to him? How he was supposed to live without her?

No, he had no idea how to enjoy those last days of her life meanwhile she was suffering.

He embraced himself, his fingers clutched into the fabric until his knuckles were white. He stopped the tears before they could fall from the blue eyes of his. Blue eyes she used to love so much.

It was so unreal to him. So unreal to die and be sick. So unreal to end her life and call it a kindness.

When the healer explained to him that maybe it would be better to end her life before she will suffer even more, he thought he will go mad and break his neck. But…somewhere deep in his mind, he knew it makes sense. And he secretly guessed that she asked the healer for it already…To end her life.

She wanted to leave him several times when she realized that she was getting older and older, sicker and sicker. That she was no match for the Elvenking, the immortal. But he always refused, begged, held her. He made her stay every time. Out of love, out of promises. And she did. She did stay and now her words came true and he didn`t know what to do. He never witnessed that death could be that slow and swallowing. He could never guess that humans could be sick beyond any healer powers.

Until now.

Where did he make the mistake? What he hasn`t seen? When did this happen?

He was used to be a king, to decide everything, to rule over everything and to be powerful. But this was like a fist hitting his face. He was powerless, clueless…He hated the loss of control over his life and mainly hers.

There was nothing he could do.

She was dying in front of his eyes. Her body was weaker, skinnier. Her eyes less and less joyful. Some days she smiled, some days she just slept. But when she smiled, even once, it made his day. He felt happiness. False happiness, but happiness at least.

The time with her was so short…Or maybe wasn`t and he was just taking it for granted. How many times he chose work over her? How many times he rather drank with his generals and advisors than joined her to bed? Too many times. Now he could see it. He wasn`t able to enjoy the given time with her fully before how he was supposed to do it now? Now when she barely walked?

Was it a selfish mistake when he let her fall in love with him? When he flirted with her in the Lake-town years ago? It was so beautiful and soothing for his wretched soul…It was special that she just came to him and never left since. She followed him everywhere without a doubt, without a word. She believed in him despite the choices he made. And she loved him unconditionally.

No, he never felt like this before she came to his life. It was the purest love he ever experienced. She was pure and she gave him everything she had.

He bit his lip, refusing to turn his head to look at her. A tear escaped his eye and he let it fall.

To end her life until she was not in such pain yet was reasonable. Very. Kind even. Somewhere in his mind, he knew she would appreciate it.

But he wasn`t able to do it. It was like killing her. It was like stop hoping for better days even though he knew they won`t come anymore. The better days were gone. The sickness swallowed them just like it was swallowing her body and soul.

It wasn`t fair. She wasn`t that old. Or maybe she was but…damn…why she has to die?

He knew that this was not the life he would wish for her. To lie in the bed, tired all the time, so weak she merely moved, refusing to eat most of the time…It was painful to watch her. But she was still here and it mattered to him.

He felt alone. He missed her touches, her kind words, her smile and playful look in the eyes. He missed a lot that it hurt. But losing her completely was out of mind. Unbearable. Unthinkable.

He witnessed a lot of deaths. On the battlefield, in the infirmary afterwards. He said goodbye to many. But this monstrosity? And why the closest person ever?

He knew he has days, not weeks. Days. It was like hours in her world. Days for god sake.

And he was supposed to decide when she will die.

He has to do it.

But he can`t.

He was selfish back then, when he gave her hope for love, when he let her enter his world and when he let himself to love her back. He was selfish when he refused to listen about her death, about her age. And he was being selfish now when he didn`t want to end her misery just because he didn`t want to live without her. Even in those terms. Even this was better than nothing.

But if he truly loves her, he has to do it, right? For her…

He turned to face her with eyes full of hot tears, silently sobbing already. She is sleeping heavily. Her chest is rising quickly but her breath is too shallow anyway.

He let his lips whisper, knowing she won`t hear him:

“Do you really want to go…?”

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