Love for rose's thorns

Can a man who committed countless atrocities love himself?

"We do not govern our minds, for you see, our minds dictate our choices before our 'self' can claim said choices, thus we are nigh but spectators of our life, merely the thoughts we experienced. To grasp dominion over our minds is to take hold of our fate, to be our true selves and see the world around us for what it truly is." - Sir Abraham Enlever.

"It's imperative for you to understand how lucky you are, lord Nicholas. As history tells it, very few have received a gift like yours, but all fell to its power. You can make those powers yours, but that comes at a risk: you could lose your mind, your sanity." Abraham explained somberly as he sat across the room facing a young, attentive kid who sat in a chair too big for him, with a straight back, tailor-fitted opulent garments, nodding along at every word, despite the fear of failure and responsibility written all over his puffy face.
"Now, there's no need to worry, for you won't be alone in this journey: your parents will assist you, which is why I'm here. I'll train you to make sure you will succeed where others have failed, we'll take all the time you need, and we'll do it properly. I'll be here to guide you through this endeavor, we'll see this to the end. How's that sound?" He smiled kindly and with a hint of excitement in his tone, like an understanding parent.

***

On the night of the 3rd of Guss, year 32 of the Fifth Age, house Thorne of Idria would go out in flames, in a tragic accident that resulted in the death of 49 servants and the entire Thorne family, all but one kid.

That was the night Nicholas Vilhelm Wermont Malanus Thorne, at the age of 17, opened his mind to the true world. He successfully peeked into the reality carefully concealed from our senses. He could see the countless shapes a mind can take and how they are all connected through invisible threads, see the true aspect of space, where the Gods resided, how shapeless entities came to life, the birth of horrors and miracles, an unimaginable spectacle, a promise of knowledge he would gradually come to understand and nurture, everything he was promised and much more than he ever imagined.

Outside of his mind, the kid was absentmindedly meditating, but Abraham could see his labor finally bore fruit. His powers seeped through the kid's body, knowledge poured into the Material World as strands and tendrils of purple void. He knew the kid was most vulnerable when meditating, and so he tried to reach for him. Conjuring Enchantments through sweet whispers, he attempted to tamper with his mind, seize control over his powers, to imprint his will on the mind of the young prodigy and make him the puppet slave he worked so hard to turn him into.

Yet he failed. He reached for the kid, and when he finally managed to establish a connection, he was rejected. His mind now held strength of its own. Trying to grasp it burned like a white star, and it did not take kindly to intruders.

A wave of force burst from the kid, so strong it made the ground shake and tear fissures, it broke every window in a mile radius, toppled and ripped trees, and scorched everything in its path. The pillars supporting the mansion folded, the stone of the walls cracked and shattered, and the boy fell unconscious.

He woke up a minute or so later, his breathing troubled as smoke was rising from the building. A fire had started in the aftermath of the burst, but he was still blissfully unaware of what or who had led to this. He covered his mouth and nose with his silken cravat and shirt as best as he could and rushed out the door into the mezzanine to assess the situation. There was a gap in the roof as a few of the pillars fell, flames engulfed the mansion, no soul in sight, and the stairs leading to the entrance hall were barely holding up. He dashed down the flight of stairs, and just before he could make it out of the hall, he noticed a shade lying down on the ground next to one of the walls. He stopped in his tracks and turned to investigate.

Lying lifeless in a pool of blood were his younger brothers, just under a crater in the wall made as the twins were flung by the burst of energy, crushing them in an instant. For a few seconds, Nicholas couldn't breathe, couldn't blink, and simply stared at the scene with abject horror. He instinctively looked around, trying to find comfort in his parents, in the servants who were always there for him, but there was no one left to comfort him. Somewhere else in the hall, his mother lay dead with a crushed leg and his newborn sister in her arms, their bodies enveloped by flames, charred, burning. Upstairs, he could make out the figure of what was left of his father, crushed under the fallen debris of the roof as he tried to shield his younger sister in vain. His older brother lay on the ground, impaled in the chest by a stake that splintered off a wooden structure at the time of the burst, yet he still looked conscious, even if barely. Nicholas kneeled to his side and tried to take him by the hand, lift his face to see if he could still make it. His brother mouthed something with his last strength, yet his broken body was unable to let out any word.

Unable to take in any more of this nightmare, he rushed out of the front door and ran as far as his weakened body allowed him. As he made it further into the forest, the crackling of the flames grew distant and quieter, and that allowed his thoughts to creep in.
Images of his dead family flashed relentlessly in his mind one after the other, alongside a quiet thought that grew ever louder as the foggy memories of what transpired flushed back slowly. "Is this my fault? Did I do this?" Soon these doubts overpowered any other thought, and the more he posed himself with these questions, the more sound were the arguments proving them true, and the harder it was to deny it.

As days and hours went by, his will to live withered rapidly at the thought of what he had done, at the fate he brought upon his family. Remnants of Abraham still lingered in his mind like a parasite, beckoning the kid to find him. The man survived and was out there somewhere, looking for him, calling him to answer his call and accept the fate Abraham had molded for him. The man haunted his dreams, and he could hear his whispers in moments of silence. No matter where he was, he always felt his inescapable gaze.
In a vile twist of fate, the suffocating presence of Abraham was also the only thing keeping him alive. For how unbearable it was for him to live another day with the guilt of what he had done, he found solace in the thought that maybe, just maybe, it wasn't his fault. In his words, he was grasping at a sweet lie, a blank hope that held no logical reason over the truth, but it was all he could grasp, the only thing to make him wake up one more day in his search for something true that could grant him a reason to live.

***

A lot of things happened in the months that followed: for once, he found caring friends. King Wilbur II of Nochi eventually gifted those friends a castle, and with it a city to preside over. In their quest to restore said castle of Whitesands, they came face-to-face with the man who haunted him for so long, and together they bested him in combat and ended his life, yet it was a bleak victory. Nicholas never sought revenge, and now that the voice in his head was gone, so was his blank hope, and thus he was left alone with his guilt.
His friends then unanimously agreed to elect Nicholas as the Lord of Whitesands. It was Candy who first proposed Nicholas, and Shishker followed suite: they didn't do it because of Nicholas' qualifications or to restore his old title, but because they could see through his mask and they wanted to give him a reason to go on, a responsibility to push him to live one more day like he was hoping for.

Together, at Whitesands, Nicholas could finally hone his skills as a Sorcerer in a safe environment, surrounded by supporting friends who held unwavering trust in him, yet in his heart, he didn't deserve any of this. Those relentless questions still kept him up at night, isolated in his bedroom, and with each act of kindness, his anguish grew stronger.
"Did I do it? Was it my fault? It was, and they hate me for it. I cannot ask for forgiveness, I don't deserve it. Then why am I here? Why am I still here? What did I do? I don't deserve this. I shouldn't be here. Nothing would have ever happened if I weren't there, if I weren't their son, if I weren't born at all. What if it happens again? What if it happens to Whitesands? I shouldn't be here. Why are Candy and the others like that towards me? I don't deserve it." In moments of silence, agonizing questions and doubts swarmed his mind relentlessly, his train of thought only fueling his self-hatred, holding the sole purpose to remind him of the monster he is.

Eventually, to the surprise of no one, a long overdue war against the Crescentine Cult broke out, as the reigns of the Seal banded together to subdue the worshippers of Death once and for all. Nicholas, Lord of Whitesands, Shishker and Candy, Knights of Starlina, as well as the rest of their friends all came together with King Wilbur and the rulers of the Seal on a unanimous plan: to besiege Aldulor, bring retribution to the leader of their cult, Danmar Painbringer, and kill the weakened False Prophet, Eldenclaw, Aspect of the God of Death.

As glimpses of the future foretold, this was supposed to be one single, decisive encounter to define the fate of the Seal, yet a fortunate happenstance, a divination made on a whim, revealed the true scheme behind the charade. Eldenclaw was headed towards the military encampment hosting all of the Seal's rulers that very night, an entire day before the final encounter.
Panic ensued and people scrambled to find a solution, but eventually they settled on a plan: the Knights of Starlina would lead the charge against Eldenclaw, while Wilbur would lead his troops to protect their flank from Aldulor, and the rest would stay behind and defend the camp from any coordinated attack.

The battle between the Seal's Champions and the Aspect of Death ensued, and King Wilbur and his cavalry held steadfast their position. Arrows rained from on high, and the enemy's infantry was fast approaching, hoping to ensure the death of the Seal's Champions.
As the King's troops charged to face their enemy, a stray arrow struck through his helmet, sending him tumbling to the ground and his horse with him. For all how much they tried to defend their commander, the battlefield was a show of gore that didn't allow a moment's breath, and the cultists jumped at the opportunity to trample over the fallen King, breaking his spine and legs. Soon later, far in the distance, Eldenclaw let out a final screech, a wail of pain, rage, and hatred that echoed through the northern Seal, announcing his demise to the world, and the troops of the Crescentine Cult retreated, having lost the strongest piece on the battlefield. A pile of bodies was stacked where the battle took place, and soon every standing soldier was helping clear the area, tend to the wounded, and carry the lifeless back to the camp, and among those bodies lay King Wilbur, broken but conscious.
Nicholas and the others quickly rushed to his side, their forces on the brink of exhaustion, their magic nigh all spent in the fight against the Dragon, so much so that the most they could do was heal the wound left by the arrow that was to strike his demise. The looming verdict weighed heavily on their shoulders; all they could do was to stand around their dying King in solidarity. There he laid bare his regrets, but also his pride and joy, with his last strengths he recalled his daughters and their bright future, which he fought and died for, his wish to accept death and the embrace of her goddess Starlina, the friendships he resented, those he missed and those he cherished. There in the cold snow, surrounded by his friends and allies, King Wilbur II of Nochi took his last breath.

The walk back to the camp was somber and silent; no words were spoken, and that gave Nicholas time to think of the events that transpired even in the company of his friends. "Is it my fault again? I haven't killed him, but if I acted faster, if I didn't need healing, and Shishker had left me there, or if I came up with a different plan, if I were in his place..." These thoughts once again drowned all others.

That night, Nicholas couldn't sleep, his guilt gnawing at him, the voice in his head overpowering all other rational thoughts. He got up and left his tent, hoping the bustling alleys and the guards patrolling back and forth could distract him. The voice got quieter, but the feeling lingered. He wandered mindlessly through the camp until, by happenstance, he found himself in front of Azule's tent. In an act of carefully concealed desperation, he entered the tent.

"Nicholas? Didn't expect you here at this hour, it's not like you to just barge in." Azule retorted.
"Azule, what if it was I who had died instead of Wilbur?" He asked, his voice cracking.
For some time now, the Half-Elf was his most earnest confidant. They butted heads more than they agreed, but that meant there was an unspoken trust between them, founded on sincerity above all. Azule did not hold back, nor did he mince his words; he was direct, straightforward, and never hid his beliefs or opinions. Nevertheless, he was taken aback by his question, and it took him a few moments before recomposing himself. "So what if?" He answered as per his usual, always seemingly challenging whatever belief the other party has.
"To me, it doesn't really matter, Nick. It's not like we can change what happened. It's no use to entertain the thought. I think," he pondered for a moment, "you have your place in this world, and Wilbur had his. Don't look back at what could have been, because you'll find only sorrow. Wilbur thought of it in the same way, you've known him. You have to look forward and do your best."
"But how can I?" Nicholas interjected without skipping a beat. "When Wilbur was such a better leader-"
"Wilbur had his role, and you have yours. It's no use to compare yourself to others, Nick, you won't get anything out of it. Wilbur had his family and his friends, and you have yours. You are not going to replace him, and that's good, because you are your own person."
Nicholas couldn't respond right away, but he knew he wasn't getting the answer he was hoping for from him, so he called it for the night and excused himself. "Thank you, Azule. Goodnight." He replied dismissively, but somewhat grateful for the answer.
"I, for one, know I wouldn't trade you for anyone else, not even Wilbur." Azule added as Nicholas turned to leave, stopping him in his tracks just for a moment's notice.

Before going back to his tent, the feeling of abandonment pushed him once more to seek that sickly liberating answer that he didn't get from Azule. He reluctantly walked to Candy's tent. "Candy, it's me. Can I... come in?" He asked.
"Sure, come in. You needed something? I can help." She was quick to answer.
Nicholas walked in on the redhead Elf sitting at an ornate desk as she was preparing her spell book for the battle ahead.
"Can I ask you, do you believe I could have done more to save Wilbur?" He asked, voicing his doubts but not his wishes.
"Well..." Candy took her time to think of a proper answer. "I think things could have gone differently, and if you think of it that way, we could have done more. But again, what didn't we do that we could have done?" She saw in his expression a glimpse of disappointment mixed with hope, or maybe even expectation.
"I don't know if everyone has a meaning, or a reason to be here, sometimes we are just dealt a bad hand. I don't believe fate wrote a story for us, or that we were powerless when faced with Wilbur's death, but I believe if we are here today that is because of our own will and our combined strengths, and we all carry a reason to live, even if you might not yet see yours."
A pause fell between the two of them. "I know it's not gonna be easy to go on, but our journey's never been easy to start with, I think we'll manage. If you need help to move forward, Nicholas, ask and I'll be there for you. You're not alone anymore." She continued with intoxicating sweetness.
"Thank you, Candy. I will." He answered, a tear rushing down his cheek as the words 'you're not alone anymore' echoed in his mind, stabbing at his heart in a way he didn't want to feel again. "I think I should go now, it's getting late, but thank you." He turned and marched a couple of steps outside, leaving his friend hanging.

Conflicting emotions were swirling in his heart and mind, the guilt he felt pushed him to search for a reason to embrace a sweet release, yet all he could find was unwavering, unmerited trust and support wherever he searched. Finally, he turned to Shishker, who had spent all his magic that very day to save him from the brink of death, the one who could have done things differently. He entered his tent.

There he found his friend, the pale blue Phantasm of a once bright Fire Elemental, sitting atop a crate of Rune powder, meditating.
"Ah, Nicholas? Were you looking for me?" He inquired, brought back to his senses by the noise of the curtains shifting.
He hesitated for a moment, but the pain was too much to bear, as he grew desperate for an escape. "Do you think," his voice pained and quivering, grasping courage with every breath, "if it was me, instead of Wilbur, who..." He couldn't finish the sentence.
"I... see where you're going with this, Nicholas." Shishker replied, his tone and expression shifting from his usual carefree, naive demeanor, realizing what a delicate subject it was for him. "I'm sorry, but you won't find the answer you hope to hear, not from me." Shishker looked at him straight in the eyes, to see his friend, to tell him he was there for him. "I... feel incredibly grateful to have found you, Nicholas, as well as the others. It's you who gave me a reason to live, helped me when I was at my lowest, and not only me. Candy, Azule, even Yema. None of us would be here if it weren't for the others, and that includes you, Nicholas." He paused to study his reaction, but the man was unreadable. "Think back to Whitesands, all the people who trust in you. You showed them who you are and how you care for them, and they embraced you; they wish for you to be there for them. To us, you are an irreplaceable friend, you hold a special place in our hearts. You are important in your own way, Nicholas, even if you can't see it for yourself."
Shishker could finally understand his friend, he realized the pain he was living with, to feel responsible for others' demise, to believe the world would be better off without you. He remembered when the guilt he himself felt pushed him to the brink of leaving this world and how he found new strength only in his friends and in the desire to protect them. Nicholas, on the other hand, Shishker feared he didn't have that anchor just yet, and the creeping thought of losing his friend reflected in his expressions; his calm and collected tone was only a facade, but one he felt would give Nicholas the reassurance he needed, his gaze fixated on him. "Even if you don't believe in yourself, trust in the people who believe in you. You are worth your life, Nicholas, please cherish it."
Silence fell for a couple of seconds, awaiting an answer, an expression of his feelings. "Thank you, Shishker." He answered in earnest, his tone sincere and grateful yet pained.
"You're welcome. If you ever need me again, I'll always be here for you." He finished.

Nicholas didn't have the strength to go on, he returned to his tent for the night. For once, no matter how feeble or blindly optimistic it sounded, in his mind the echoing voice of reason was not his own, but that of his friends. Although drowned in self-doubt and scrutiny, it was there, and it was enough for the night.

In the fortnight that followed as the joined forces of the Seal pushed to Aldulor, every morning the Sorcerer would rain down a Swarm of Meteors to crush the enemy forces, the stronghold, every living soldier on the other side of the battlefield, blazing the snowy landscape to a scorched wasteland.
As the forces of unquestionable good advanced, he kept asking what compelled so much destruction and death. "It is... justified. I know I'm doing this for the good of the Seal and the people who didn't choose violence, but how can I do all that? Am I just that? Am I the monster Abraham wanted me to be? How can I take more lives after all I did?" To which the only answer he could find was 'retribution'.

***

On the 26th of Stor, Year 33 of the Fifth Age, the Siege on Aldulor ended, the Crescentine Cult has been crushed once and for all, the God of Death could never be awakened again, and life went on.

Yema disappeared soon after, and Shishker abandoned the world of the living once his quest came to an end, leaving behind only his actions and a few letters to remember him, Azule sailed the Astral Sea and returned to his world once every decade or so, while Candy turned to the Tree of Life intending to rebuild the lineage that watched over the Yggdrasil in honor of her genealogy.
Nicholas instead fully embraced his duty and stayed at Whitesands to preside over his people as their Lord, and so he was alone once again. He would meet with Candy every once in a while, and they exchanged correspondence, but for the most part, Whitesands Castle was silent, lonely. Days would go on and duty would blur the passage of time, but sometimes the silence would creep in again.
Once upon a time, in silence, Nicholas found his own voice talking back at him, judging him for what he had done, words of hatred and disdain, a whisper that edged him closer and closer to give up. Now he found solace in the words of his companions, people who loved him regardless of what he did or what he thought of himself, who encouraged him to keep going and allowed him to be where he is today, and to seek atonement. He also found solace in his confinement, in the solitude of his empty bedroom and halls. He didn't lack company per se, his Castle was patrolled rigorously by guards, just as were all offices of the Keep furnished with servants. He was an active and influential political figure following the events of the siege, but he never once indulged in making friends or even just acquaintances. It was not a conscious, premeditated decision, but rather a penitence that took shape as time went by, to which he felt comfortable abiding by.

It is under these circumstances that Nicholas found love. Unfortunately for him, one merry evening as the city of Whitesands was celebrating the Year's Life, Nicholas met lady Maria Durán, a Tiefling with whom he bonded the very first moment they exchanged pleasantries.

Suddenly he found himself a new pen pal, he has been exchanging correspondence with her for a few months now, and if it wasn't for an unfortunate mishap he would have probably forgotten about his self inflicted penitence as well: one day, in his habit of writing the recipient's address as where he usually sends Candy's correspondence, he accidentally sent her a letter meant for Maria.
For the Redhead Wizard, reading such an obnoxiously sweet letter addressed to a girl his friend never mentioned was such a shock she felt compelled to Teleport to Whitesands that very moment to personally tease the man to hell and back, and catch up on everything he wasn't telling her.

Although the unexpected reunion was sweet, the aftermath left a bitter taste in Nicholas' mind and when night fell again, he couldn't sleep for the first time in years, anguished by guilt, brooding over his mistakes: not only has he embarrassingly sent a letter to the wrong recipient, but he has lowered his guard and allowed another innocent person to enter his life, someone he could let down or even hurt if he wasn't careful, so he promised himself that it wouldn't happen again, and that he would stop before it was too late.

He weighed his options carefully. He wanted to cut ties to make amends with both her and himself, so he chose to slow down the exchange of correspondence and slowly let go, but Maria would not allow that, for he didn't expect her to be as straightforward as she was.
Seeing how his response was taking just barely longer than usual to arrive, she decided that was a good opportunity to meet again with the Lord of Whitesands, and one morning, just a few days later, she showed up unexpectedly at his castle. Out of panic and courtesy, Nicholas didn't refuse his guest and allowed her a meeting. If the first time they met, they had barely time to share only a dance and a few words, this time around they spent the entire day and night together. They shared stories, passions, and worries, they tasted teas from his garden and sweets baked by her, they laughed and joked, they discussed plants and animals, they strolled through the beaches of Whitesands and toured through its alleys, and when night fell they gazed at the stars together from the observatory, and with every word of hers and every sweet laughter he fell harder in love for her.

He prepared a guest room at his castle just for her, so she wouldn't have to leave at night, and the next day they couldn't manage to bid farewell just yet, and the new day was as sweet as the one before. Finally, in the evening, lady Maria set out on the road for her hometown, but she managed to make him promise to keep in touch, for he was weak to her, and couldn't bear to let her down. That night Nicholas cried himself to sleep as he failed to uphold his promise once again, and he couldn't deny he was catching feelings for Maria any longer, words of self-doubt and judgement flowed back to him, castigating him for his choices, his cowardice, his lack of self control or compassion for Maria, for his selfishness and for every choice he made so far. Regardless, he couldn't bear to let her down, so he kept his promise and stayed in touch with her, writing letters during the day and crying at night for what he was doing to both of them, like an addiction he couldn't get rid of.

Days turned into weeks and weeks into months, and Maria became a regular guest at Whitesands Castle, having a guest room turned into her private quarters not too far from Nicholas' own room. Every time she came to visit, the voice judging Nicholas would get quieter, and staying with her would soothe the pain he felt when she wasn't around. Eventually, Maria became a resident at the castle; she didn't have any role to fulfill, nor was she in a committed relationship with the Lord, but it was simply natural to have her at the castle, and it just happened. Nicholas came to a compromise once again; he allowed her to stay at his keep, but they wouldn't go any further. To have the subject of his love so close but denying himself the liberty to express said love, he figured, was a fair punishment for allowing himself to indulge in his self-proclaimed forbidden love.

After that first dance shared the year before, they never shared a touch again. It was no secret Maria felt the same way towards Nicholas, but having a lesser title meant she couldn't make the first move on him, but she knew Nicholas felt a love just as strong for her, so she wasn't worried about losing him. At first, she shrugged it off and figured Nicholas was simply shy, so much so that she found it cute, that side of Lord Nicholas only she could see, and so she allowed him to take his time. In her words, watching him fumble around on their dates was one of her small pleasures in life, but a feeling of melancholy and restlessness was building up. Every charmed peek turned into a longing gaze, every moment they spent alone, they would inch closer, but he always pulled away before any contact could be made. She never dared to bring it up as she didn't want to pry open a never-healed wound, but to see the man she loved struggle silently like that made her own heart ache in return.
Meanwhile, Nicholas managed to convince himself that his love was unrequited, that he didn't deserve her love, and so she must have known as well, she couldn't love him for who he was.

One restless night, Maria decided to leave her quarters and look for Nicholas, unsure of what her plan was if she confronted him that night, but nevertheless, she couldn't bear to watch her love struggle without at least doing something. Once in front of his room, she was scared the guards would usher her away, but knowing their Lord and seeing the resolve in her eyes, they simply looked at each other, nodded in understanding, and moved to make her way without saying a word. She took a step towards the door and just before she could reach for the knob she heard a soft cry from the other side, the kind where you've exhausted all your tears. She took a moment to recompose herself and opened the door.

"Guards?" He called, quickly fixing himself through Prestidigitation.
"Nicholas." She called out to him softly, announcing her presence.
"Maria? What are you doing here?" He staggered, perplexed.
"I was looking for you," she closed the door behind her gently, "I wanted to talk with you."
"Right now is not a good moment, please..." he turned around, trying to act natural to avoid her gaze.
"Were you crying, Nicholas?"
"It's- nothing that should concern you, Maria, please. You... shouldn't see me like this." He sat up, with his back to her.
Maria took a few doubtful and slow steps towards him. "How can I convince you to let me into your life, Nicholas?"
He didn't answer outright.
"I'm tired of pretending I'm fine with this. I'm really not." She braced herself. "I love you, Nicholas. It pains my heart to be so close to you yet so far away, to see you struggle in a fight I'm not privy to. I want to know why you weep, and I want to soothe your pain. I want to see your smile again like back when we first met, and I want to be there for you. So then why won't you let me?" To let out her emotions like that, tears built up in the corners of her eyes.
"You know why, I told you my story." His voice cracked under the weight of his guilt, hoarse and low.
"You did, and Candy filled me in on the rest, and yet I'm still here. That didn't change anything." She approached the bed and slowly sat down on the edge.
"I can't, Maria. I can't allow myself. It pains me as well, every day. But that's for the best."
"How can you say that's for the best? I can still see it so clearly, your sweet smile, where did it go?" Her voice rose as she recalled the events of that day, more hopeful with each word. "The one that made me fall in love. I remember how you were when we first met, your gentle touch when you took my hand into yours, and guided me to the ball. I want to bring back that Nicholas, I want to bring back your smile and look you in the eyes as I say again and again 'I love you' and-"
"Maria! Please stop." His voice boomed compared to hers, but rather than angry, it was pleading, like the whimper of a pup who couldn't take the pain anymore. "I don't deserve any of this." Tears ran down his cheeks once again. He turned to face her, defeated, as if to show the mess he was.
But she refused. "I can't, because to stop now would mean to give up. I don't want to give up on you, Nicholas. You may see a mess out of yourself, but I see the man I love, the Lord of Whitesands, a Champion of the Seal, a loving man who's been alone for far too long. Please, Nicholas, it's time to open your eyes and see the real you. What you say you are, what you see of yourself, that's not you." Her Mage Hand caressing his cheek, prompting him to raise his head. "Look at me, Nicholas. It's okay if you don't know how to love, I'll be there for you."
"I love you, Maria. From the bottom of my heart, I really do. I know how to love, that's not the problem. I care for you, and I dream of our life together through every waking moment. I cherish you and every day we spend together. I know how I want to treat you and how I want to care for you. Nothing makes my heart beat like listening to your voice or seeing your smile," he paused, "I just can't... I don't deserve the same luxury."
"Do I deserve to love?" She asked abruptly.
"What?"
"You heard me. Do I deserve to love, and to express my love?" She inched closer.
"Of course you do, but-"
"Then let me! If you can't bear to love yourself, let me love you!" She shouted, locking eyes with him. "I'll be there for you to hold you up when you're down, I'll love you until you learn to love yourself, just... let me." She cast down her gaze, gently resting her head on his chest. "Let me care for you, let me be there for you. Let me embrace you and teach you how it is to be loved." She paused. "Let me hold your hand, please. Just- please." She barely whispered.
Nicholas was taken aback by Maria, and silence fell once more in the room. There, in that moment, he thought back to what had been so far and the words of his friends. What was he doing, hurting the one person he loved? Has he not learned to love those he cherished and fight for them? He said he knew how to love and care for her, so then why were they here in this mess? Did he want to make her happy? Could he allow himself to love, and to be loved? Were his friend's words true? Did they hold any meaning at all? Was it worth believing in them?

"You are worthy of your life, Nicholas."

Maybe, even if it was nothing more than a sweet lie, if nothing else worked, it was worth giving it a try. Maybe, before fixing something, it needed to be... broken, and maybe Nicholas finally reached his breaking point, and could allow himself to heal.
"No matter how much I can hate myself," he went to take her hands into his, their fingers intertwined, "I can't bear to see you like this, and to know it's my fault-" he paused again, his shaking voice filled with doubt- "if you love me, will you forgive me if I do this?" As she turned to face him, he leaned in and their lips met in a kiss. A sweet and loving kiss like Nicholas rehearsed hundreds of thousands of times in his head, but the moment they shared was more beautiful than any dream. When they parted, Maria threw her arms around his neck and rested her head on his chest once more, not allowing him to leave again. They stayed like that for a while, feeling each other's heartbeat as Nicholas caressed her back in loving silence.

When their hearts calmed down, they spent an hour or so chatting about life, their future, their relationship, and their love. They held hands and held each other, they cracked jokes, and shared stories, woes, and wonders.
When the night grew heavy and it was time to head off once again, Nicholas didn't want to part just yet. "The voices- they get quiet when you're around. Would you mind staying here with me for the night?"
Maria smiled warmly. "Of course." And made herself comfortable, as if she were hoping he would ask.
"Do you think there's still hope for me?" He asked at last.
"If there is, we will find it together."