It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

The heat of the fires surrounding him were too much. The chants and sobs of your name were too much. He just wished everything would stop. It would only take another hand to reach out and touch you in his arms for him to explode.

He left you at home, he knew he had. So there was no way for him to expect you to be out in the dangerous open, fighting off monsters and deciding to sacrifice yourself for the city. He could handle it himself.

He shook with fury that you had even considered putting yourself in harms way, yet his hold on you was tight as he carried you through the crowds, “You were mine to worship—not theirs.” He whispers, repeatedly as he continues to carry you.