A/N: The first part is a flashback as indicated by the asterisk (*).

TRISTAN DEVEREUX

**

"Her suffering means your suffering. What would her death mean, then, I wonder?"

Only when the taalmin's ominous words came to fruition did I have the answer to her question. Only when her death was reversed was I able to understand what it meant to me; what she meant to me.

As she lay peacefully in Atlas' bed, I sat by her and watched for the longest time. While her chest rose and fell with the breaths of life restored to her, her lashes resting upon her cheekbones, it was as though I was looking at her for the very first time.

The signs had been there. She sparked my curiosity the first night we met by her masquerade. She was a fierce force, standing up to me time and again. Despite my animosity towards her, she took over a tremendous portion of my mind. Her temper and aggression played a large part in our collisions, yet somehow fascinated me; overpowering my storm with her own and bringing me to my knees. When she fought by my side against the plagues and showed her concern for my safety, she awakened a sentimental part within me I thought I had long-buried.

The signs were there. Staring a little too long when she rambled about her acting roles. The urge to touch her every time she was within my reach. The swell of pride within me when she perfectly drew a bow, fired my gun or insisted on having my neck tie as her forever hair piece.

I tried to ignore those signs. Yet the more I pushed away, the harder she pulled me in. Those little signs of affection seemed to increase, calling me to acknowledge them like an incessant echo of my own voice—one I desperately tried to block out.

I almost did acknowledge them—that night in Ridmata Cove when all I could think about was how beautiful she looked beneath the fluorescent glow of the scithera, how perfectly her body fit against mine as we danced by the bonfire, how inviting her lips had been towards my own.

I held myself back, always.

But her apparent death dug up all those feelings I had tried so hard to bury, along with a pain so unbearable it felt like my heart had fractured into a thousand pieces.

Looking at her sleeping form now, I finally acknowledged those feelings. Mavis Flare had somehow manoeuvred her way into my heart with her sass, courage, and that darn snaggletooth. It was an imperfect smile, yet it completely charmed me.

Seeing her tears made me want to protect her from anything that threatened that smile. Distance from her was simply a catalyst for me to miss her presence and our banter. She was capable of coaxing out whatever I kept hidden for so long, of making me yearn for comfort and affection beyond physical desires—something I had deprived myself of for two years.

As such, she was my ruin. Or at least, she would be, if I let my affections grow.

I needed to snip the bud before it blossomed; before she could wield the power to fool me and hurt me.

I wished to savour this moment, for it would be the last time I looked at her with longing, and the last time I would come close to her.

Standing up, I took a deep breath. For the last time, I let my heart lead my body. My hand caressed her hair while I bent over her, pressing my lips to her forehead. I let the kiss linger, the need to prolong the moment colliding with the ache forming in my chest. It was both an undoing and a seal; a recognition of my affections as it was the promise to sever them.

From here on, I would do everything to end this courtship so I wouldn't have to see her again.

**

So why? Why was she in front of me again?

I chose to guard my heart and blocked her out. I let my anger and mistrust get the best of me and lashed out. Accused her of something which I knew deep down, she wouldn't do intentionally. Said hurtful things without bothering to listen to her. I wanted to hold on to the facts only I saw; to believe her conniving and vile enough to harm my brother, because it was the only way to separate her from my life.

It was after that altercation that the guilt stormed in, nearly drowning me. But I convinced myself it was for the better. She had left as I wished, and I wouldn't have to go through the same pain two years ago.

But here she was, as part of Lady Fate's cruel joke. Our altercation had been my haunting, and more so, the words my mother told me.

"I understand that you want to protect yourself, especially after all that has happened to you. But Tristan, while you guard against the possibility of heartache, you end up hurting others. Shall you break Mae's heart before yours get broken again? Is that what you want?"

Two years ago, I made a promise to always put myself first. That I would never permit a reoccurrence of such betrayal.

I knew I hurt Mavis, and part of me regretted it, itching to apologise endlessly and tell her everything. To bare my soul and embrace her, hoping she would smile at me like she did at the theatre, and perhaps return my affection.

The other larger, more insistent part demanded that I keep my promise and maintain my distance. That part dwelled on how she had called me unlovable, cementing my belief that nobody would ever want me for me. She was no different. If she knew of my feelings for her, she would take advantage and fool me.

And so I rebuilt that wall around myself, hoping against hopes it would remain firm until we got back home and saved Adrian.

A/N:

🥺🥺