Ophelia cradled your poisoned body in his arms, the lavender of his eyes filled with an uncharacteristic panic as his trembling fingers gingerly brushed the hair out of your paling face.

He was once a mere orphaned boy, abandoned in a dingy orphanage until he got taken in by two kind-hearted witches. It was the first time he was happy, learning about medicinal potions with his new family. But soon, it all disappeared as the witches were burnt at the stake...as if it were all a mere dream.

He didn't mean to be curt and snappish all the time to you, the captain who had so graciously offered him a position as a medic. But he couldn't help it. His cold personality was merely a defense mechanism now, subconsciously pushing away the ones he loved....Including you.

His usual stoic mask was nowhere to be seen as he desperately captured your lips with his, tipping the antidote down your throat using his mouth.

Perhaps he cared more than you thought afterall.