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Blue Phoenix

She loves him.

With all of her being she wishes she didn’t, but she does. She loves his boundless humor and strength. Loves those emerald pools he calls eyes, the golden waves that frame his face, but she loves his kindness most, his determination to protect.

She knows it would never have worked between them. Knows he wouldn’t have ever given her his heart, his love and devotion, that she can never call him hers. He’s given that glorious star of a heart to another, she can accept that.

It’s better this way, he would have broken her own heart anyway, even if it would have been unintentional. But she can’t shut out her feelings. She loves him, so much it hurts, and she can’t stop these snowballing emotions of hers even if she wanted too. Even if doing so would save him in the end.


 

He misses it all.

He misses the way she looks at him, doesn’t see that she’s given him her fragile heart, that she’s surrendered herself to a terrible fate. He fails to notice the way she lights up in his presence, never questions her need to be close, dismisses the suggestions from his friends.

He misses all of it.

 


She never told him, never will tell him. She’ll keep her little stolen moments, content in having any part of him. Telling him — it would only hurt him more, and it would kill her.

(Literally.)

So she sits quietly on the sidelines, loving him from afar, while he remains blissful in his ignorance.


 

Eventually, he finds out, but that bittersweet knowledge comes too late. He curses himself for missing the signs, and looking back, he can’t believe he hadn’t realized. He feels stupid. He feels sick.

The anger — once scorching and consuming — has left him, leaving behind only the chilly numbness of sorrow and grief. He begs for the pain, the anger had hurt, but it was nothing compared to the aftermath. Dying had been better.

Again, he had failed to notice, again, she had saved him, as she had so many times before. But this would be the last time.

 


She can’t breathe.

This — this couldn’t be happening. Yet, no matter how long she stared…

Get up. She wanted to scream, but the words stuck in her throat. She couldn’t move, all she could do, was stare.

Stare at his still form, the red dripping and staining the stone beneath. Her hand clenches around her sapphire pendant, so hard she’s afraid it might break, shatter like herself. The gem burns under her skin, pulsing in time with her racing heart. Then, in an instant, she knows what to do, and what it will cost.

She smiles softly, tears streaming down her cheeks, and lets the familiar heat of her magic envelope her, transform her. Her eyes shut as blue fire rolls across her skin, swallowing and replacing her clothes, pushing back her hair, dressing her for battle.

She opens her eyes, and rushes her beloved’s killer.

Fighting the villain had been easy, few could stand against her inherited power, and all too soon she found herself kneeling next to her love. She smiled bitterly, the voices of the crowd a dull thrum, and raised his head, fingers curling in those soft golden locks.

She raises her hand, flaring with blue fire, and then slams it down over his heart, at the same time pressing her lips to his. She shuts her eyes, and pours her unspoken love, all the words she would never say into the motion.

This is her purpose. She is the Blue Phoenix, and soon, she would burn.


(In her family, there is a Legend. That whomever inherits the power Blue Phoenix, will give themselves for their love, raising them from the ashes, regardless of the price.

And she knew what that price would be, after all, her father had shown her.)


 

There had been pain, white hot inescapable agony, and then there had been darkness, cool and endless, and he knew that he was dead.

He found fear lacking, only regret brushed his senses; regret for failing, for the father he would leave behind, for the words he’d never told his lady. Sorrow came and went just as quickly, fading as he continued to sink.

Oblivion had greeted him kindly, bitterly, and softly, had let him go. In the next moment he gasped and found he could breathe again, the pain receding like the tide. He opened his eyes, and stared, wide-eyed at the woman he was kissing. His sweet friend, with tears streaming down her face, bathed in a brilliant blue light. 

Her lips were warm, but then, she had always been warm. Her hand was hot pressed against his chest, bordering on unpleasant, filling him with her own wonderful warmth.

 


She feels weak, but the chill creeping clawing through her chest is worth it.

Lashes flutter, and she opens her eyes, greeted immediately by emerald ones. His gaze wavers, eyes glistening with unvoiced confusion and concern. She shuts her eyes again, unable to look at such kindness, not with the anger, the sorrow that would follow. She wouldn’t get to bask in his thankfulness, in her shinning moment of glory.

She’d never told him the Legend.

He presses a hand to her shoulder, and she can’t tell if it’s to brace himself or push her away. She breaks the kiss, light fading, and immediately collapses against him. Her vision blurs, but she can still see his emerald eyes brightening. It was getting harder to breathe.


 

She looks pale and sick. Her blue-eyed lidded gaze meeting his, and in their dulled pools he sees an apology, begging him to understand. Pain ripples across her face and he presses a hand to her shoulder, and immediately tries to gently push her away. She’s so cold.

She looks so tired, he thinks. She should go take care of herself. She breaks their kiss, blue light vanishing, but when he opens his mouth to speak, she faints. Pushing himself up, he cradles his friend. She bears a smile, eyes hazed over, and only then does he check her pulse.

 


 

He spends the next few weeks numb. 

She was dead, and it was his fault. No one said the words but he knew. She had given him her life, saved him again. She’d beaten his murderer, had been a hero, a savior, and she would never enjoy a moment of her victory.

“She was a healer.” They’d told him, her family. “The Blue Phoenix always is.” 

They told him the Legend.

“The Blue Phoenix will fall in love and have their heart broken, intentional or not, and they will sacrifice their very lives for their chosen beloved. They will raise them from the ashes, but in doing so will end themselves.”

She’d loved him, loved him enough to die for him, and he’d never noticed.

He’d held her in his arms, and sobbed into her dark hair. Chanting her name as her family, in despair and the beginnings of grief had surrounded him, and only when her mother and brother had placed their familiar warm hands on his shoulders did he release his fallen friend. Nothing could be worse.

And as if the world rose to his unspoken challenge, they’d explained what had happened, what she had done and why.

His heart had frozen and shattered, shards falling and sticking in his ribs and lungs. He fled then, ignoring the cries of her people. He ran home, buried himself and sobbed long after the tears had stopped.

Only now, standing before her grave did he accept her sacrifice. He layed the white roses on her grave and left, the memory of her laughter echoing in his ears.

He smiled, and breathed.

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