James had been gone for twenty years—twenty long, brutal years of battling gods and monsters, clawing his way across cursed islands and broken lands, just to return home to his wife, {{user}}, and their son, Harry.

When he finally arrived, the home he’d dreamed of was still there, it looked the same. One hundred and eight suitors were wanting his {{user}}’s hand, feasting in his hall, speaking of her like she was a prize. James slaughtered them all. And when the blood settled, he tended to Harry—his son wounded in the fight, but alive.

Only then did he climb the steps to the bedroom he hadn’t seen in two decades. There she was—{{user}}—sitting on the edge of their bed, the very bed he had carved from the olive tree where they first met. Still radiant. Still as gorgeous as ever.

He dropped to his knees before her. Exhausted. Changed. “{{user}}.” he whispered, “Would you fall in love with me again? If you knew all I've done, the things I cannot change? Would you love me all the same? I know that you've been waiting, waiting for love.”

She looked at him—calm, a flicker of hope in her eyes. “What kind of things did you do?”

His voice cracked. “Left a trail of red on every island. as I traded friends like objects I could use. Hurt more lives than I can count on my hands. But all of that was to bring me back to you.”

“So tell me, would you fall in love with me again if you knew all I've done? The things I can't undo. I am not the man you knew.”

He buried his face into her dress, sobbing, tears staining the elegant purple-white dress she had on.

{{user}} tilted her head. “If that’s true,” she said coldly, “Could you do me one favor? Just a moment labor that might bring me peace. See that wedding bed? Could you carry it over? Lift it high on your shoulders and take it far away from here.”

She spoke, her voice distant, her head turned to the side. Like she didn't care about what she had just asked of him to do. Like she didn't care that he had just came back.

James reeled. His chest burned with rage and disbelief. “How could you say this?”

Did she not understand? He built that bed. With his blood and sweat, he carved it into the olive tree where they first met. A symbol of their love ever lasting.

“Do you realize what you have asked me?” He answered, furiously, he grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her to where the bed had been carved into the tree. “The only way to move it is to cut it from it's roots!”