We returned to the village just as the first winds of autumn stirred the almond tree.
Its petals had begun to fall.
Not in showers, but in single, drifting confessions of time.
Damien was quiet.
Not withdrawn—just... still.
At night, he held me longer. Pressed his lips to my neck as if memorizing the warmth. In daylight, he worked the fields beside villagers who no longer saw him as a fallen king, but as a man who had once burned the world and now begged to plant within it.
He smiled more. But the smile didn't always reach his eyes.
And I knew something was coming.
It came not in the form of soldiers, nor in letters sealed in red wax—but in a visitor with trembling hands and tears already falling before she spoke.
"It's Gareth," she said. "He's dying."
My blood turned cold.
Damien stepped forward first. "Where is he?"
"The old barracks, near the southern pass. He didn't want to die in the palace. He said... he said he wanted to see you. Both of you. One last time."
We rode through the night.
Neither of us spoke.
Not because we had nothing to say.
But because we feared what might break if we did.
We arrived at dawn.
The old barracks had turned into hospice. The flags were gone. The walls cracked with ivy and time.
Inside, Gareth lay beneath rough wool blankets, his breath ragged but defiant.
"About damn time," he rasped.
Damien knelt first.
"You should've summoned us sooner."
"And let you two see me like this? Hell no. I waited until pride was useless."
His eyes turned to me.
"You always had more spine than the rest of us realized."
I swallowed thickly. "You always carried more than any of us could repay."
He coughed—wet, deep.
"You repaid it. With your lives. With your love."
That night, Gareth slipped away in his sleep.
We buried him beneath a quiet hill. No banners. No statues. Just a blade driven into the earth and a line carved in stone:
He chose to protect, not to rule.
On the ride home, Damien didn't cry.
But when we arrived, and the almond tree dropped a petal into his palm, he crumbled.
I held him.
We stayed there until the stars blinked awake above us.
And then he whispered:
"When the last blossom falls, bury me here. Next to Gareth. Next to you, if you'll have me."
I kissed his hand.
"I already do."