#jemmablackstairs

Emma woke with a start, the images of her nightmare still lingering in her mind: her parents’ bodies by the shore of the ocean; Julian, covered in blood, holding Livvy’s limp body against his chest; black lines webbing underneath her skin as the parabatai curse took root. A quick glance around brought her back to her senses; she was lying in bed, propped up on her elbows. She determined that she was in Julian’s room after seeing the mural painted on the far wall, its colors illuminated by the moonlight shining through the window. She looked down to find Julian sleeping soundly beside her.

Rather than returning her head to the warm place on his chest that she had been only seconds before, she allowed her eyes to linger on him a bit longer. His chocolate brown hair was beautifully tangled and adorably mussed, floating lightly on the pillow beneath his head. His eyelashes ghosted over his cheekbones and his lips were parted slightly looking very, very kissable to Emma, who smiled at the thought.

Her eyes continued their descent, taking in the flat panes of his stomach where his t-shirt had ridden up, fine white scars from used up runes and battle injuries spaced across the expanse of skin. His right hand lay gently on his stomach, his fingers spread out as though remembering the shape of Emma’s fingers that had been intertwined with his only moments before.

Emma found herself looking longingly at the place on his chest right above his heart. His shirt covered the skin there, but she could picture the shape of his parabatai rune through the fabric. The rune itself had faded when the bond had broken months ago, but she still found herself remembering its shape.

It wasn’t that she wished they were still bonded in that way, because that would mean they wouldn’t have what they had now — peaceful nights spent wrapped in each other’s arms, slow mornings when they stayed in bed trading laughs and kisses under the golden glow of the rising sun, and all the moments outside the privacy of their rooms, surrounded by their family and friends, moments where they could share their love openly and honestly. And yet, some nights she found herself tracing the faded outline of the rune, running her fingertips over the swirls, lightly grazing her nails against his skin, following the path that she knew by heart.

Without thinking, she allowed her fingers to travel up Julian’s chest where they began to dance across the fabric of his shirt in the shape of the parabatai rune. She lost herself in the dips and swirls of the pattern, her limbs heavy and her eyes half open. It wasn’t until Julian’s hand came up to cover her own that she jolted wide awake.

“I feel you tracing the rune each night,” he whispered into the space between them. She looked up at him in surprise — never once had he opened his eyes on the nights when her fingers found their way to his chest. His breathing was always deep and steady indicating a deep slumber. Even so, Emma figured she shouldn’t be surprised. Julian had been hiding his thoughts and lying all his life to protect his family. He knew how to school his features into indifference even when he was fuming with anger, steady his heartbeat even when his mind was racing, slow his breathing even when his body was tense with fear.

“Why haven’t you ever said anything?” she whispered back. The room was dark, the only light coming from the moon that was full in the sky. It felt like an intimate moment — his hand covering hers which lay against his chest, their bodies only shadows among shadows in the darkness. It would have felt wrong to speak in a volume louder than a soft whisper.

“Because,” Julian said, now propped up on his elbow so that his body was facing Emma’s, his gaze level with hers. “It seemed like a moment you wanted to have by yourself,” he said simply. “I didn’t want to deprive you of that.”

Emma suddenly felt the need to explain herself to him, although even she didn’t fully understand why she found herself tracing the rune on nights when she couldn’t sleep. “I’m not really sure why,” she began, looking into his ocean deep Blackthorn eyes. “It’s not that I don’t love what we have now or that I want us to be parabatai again or anything like that it’s just — I don’t know, honestly. I don't know how to explain it to you, it’s like there is something about it that just makes me — and I feel like I —“ She fell quiet, unable to find the words she needed, and looked at him helplessly. “I don’t know how to explain it,” she repeated, feeling defeated.

He gently squeezed Emma’s hand which still lay against his chest. He looked at her, eyes open and vulnerable. “Try,” he breathed. “Try. For me.”

She released a deep breath and nodded her head. She would try. For Julian, she would try. He sat up so that he was leaning against the headboard of the bed before he reached over to pull Emma into his lap, her knees on either side of his hips. Gently, he brought his arms around her, one hand resting on the curve of her hip, the other pressing against her lower back to pull her closer. The gentle pressure of his palm and the warmth of his touch made her feel safe. Safe enough to stumble over her words without embarrassment, to speak her thoughts out loud without fear that he would turn away. Wrapped in his arms, as safe as could be, she spoke.

“I remember,” she began. “I remember what it was like just a few months ago when we were still parabatai. I remember the agonizing pain and the overwhelming hopelessness. I saw other people who could love who they loved out in the open. And the thought that I would have to spend the rest of my life hiding what I felt for you — it was enough to drive me insane.”

Emma locked her eyes on the place right above Julian’s head, finding it impossible to look at him squarely while speaking about such pain. The words were flowing out of her now, a little disorganized on the surface but true at their heart.

“Just to think about it; that a decision that we made when we were twelve years old — totally and utterly broken children who had lost so much and who only had each other, who tied themselves together not knowing what their love would turn into — it was a decision that would trap us for the rest of our lives, impossibly close to one another in some ways and terribly far apart in others. I remember that pain, and the fact that I don’t feel that anymore brings me a happiness so great and so deep that it breaks me and holds me together all at once.

“But there is this other part of me, this other part that remembers what it was like to be tied so close to you that your pain was my pain and your thoughts were my thoughts. I remember how powerful I felt when we drew off of each other’s strength during battle. Our connection was so strong that one of us could heal the other’s wounds even when no other person could.”

Images of steles and skin and glowing iratzes flashed through Emma’s mind — Emma in Julian’s lap in the back of the Toyota, Julian holding Emma’s dying body on the battlefield before they went up in flames.

“I remember what it was like to be so intricately intertwined with you that we were practically one person, held together by parabatai magic. I remember that, and I miss that.

“And I know that we are still connected in other ways. I know that my heart will always be tied to yours. I know that I would still be lost without you — that hasn’t changed. But there was something about the parabatai bond — the physicality of it, the fact that your pain was my pain in the most literal sense. I felt you, Julian. Every second of every day I felt your presence. You were a part of me. Not just emotionally, but it was as though you were a cluster of cells in my body, a vital organ that I would die without. When we were parabatai, you weren’t just in my mind, you were in my bones.”

She took a shuddering breath before continuing. “And so sometimes, whenever I can’t sleep, I trace the outline of your rune and I remember what it felt like to be tied to you in that way. I know that there was a lot of heartbreak and a lot of pain that came with that rune, but there was a lot of good too. And now that the bond is broken and my heart feels whole, I can look past the pain and remember the overwhelming joy that I felt being your parabatai.”

She paused, unsure of how to finish. After a few seconds, she spoke again. “So maybe I just wanted to remember that.”

Emma took a deep breath in and held it as though she was preparing to get slapped; steeling herself for Julian’s reaction. And for a while, there was no reaction at all; he simply stared at her with such softness in his eyes that she thought she might melt right there in his lap. He reached one hand up to push a lock of hair behind her ear and his fingers lingered there; ghosting over her cheek. She kept herself still, arms straight by her sides, still waiting for him to speak. Finally, he did.

“I remember,” he said, brushing his lips across her cheek. “I remember our parabatai ceremony. I could barely get the words of the oath out of my mouth because I was looking at you, surrounded by heavenly fire and you looked so beautiful that I couldn’t breathe, let alone speak.” He dipped his head and began planting kisses across her jawline, from the bottom of her ear to her chin.

“I remember sitting on the beach with you one day only a few months after our ceremony. You took your hair out of its braid and the sun hit the strands just perfectly and this wave of desire hit me so hard that the whole world fell away and it was just you.” His lips were on her neck now, soft and gentle like his voice. Emma tilted her head back slightly allowing him access and her hands found their way tentatively to his shoulders.

“I remember when you healed me in the back of our beat-up Toyota. I remember the sparks that shot through my body when you sat in my lap and touched your stele to my skin. I was trying so hard not to show it — how just your body touching mine made me fall apart. But you were looking at me with this wild look in your eyes and I couldn’t keep myself from pulling you closer.” He leaned in and whispered against her skin just one word, over and over. “Closer,” he breathed. “Closer. Closer. Closer.” She shivered at the feeling of his lips brushing against her skin as he formed the words, his hot breath setting fire to her bones.

“And I remember dancing with you at the Midnight Theater and I swear I would have kissed you right then and there. I didn’t even care about all those people around us. All I saw was you. All I ever see is you.”

Emma’s fingers wound themselves into the curls of his hair, her breathing growing heavy and ragged. Her nails scraped gently at his scalp which pulled a hum of pleasure from the boy beneath her. Her lips began to move on their own accord, the words escaping in a desperate whisper. “I love you,” she said. “I love you. I love you.”

At her words, he straightened up. His face was hidden in shadow, but his eyes sparkled in the moonlight that streamed through the window. They were the color of the ocean on a stormy night, depth and darkness hidden beneath the surface. “I love you,” he breathed into the space between them. “I love you. I love you.”

Unable to wait a second longer, she pulled him in close and their lips met. Emma felt as though she was moving in slow motion. She felt sparks everywhere they touched — every part of her lips, from the center out to the corners and every place in-between, her back where the heat of his palms spread up her spine and across her shoulder blades as he moved his hands across the fabric of her tank top. Even her fingers, still buried in his hair, sizzled with energy.

Her mouth opened up over his and when they reconnected, it was as though everything had sped up. She suddenly wanted more, needed more. “Closer,” she pleaded against his lips. “Closer. Closer.” Her fingers pulled at the collar of his t-shirt and she was dragging it over his head before he even had time to pull away from the kiss.

Julian chuckled softly at her sudden desperation, which turned into genuine laughter when the shirt caught under his chin and Emma cursed in frustration. Finally, she pulled the shirt over his head with an exclamation of excitement and tossed it carelessly to the floor. His brown curls were ruffled now from both the t-shirt and the work of her fingers. He was unbearably beautiful, bare-chested and messy-haired.

Julian’s laughter faded when he saw the look on Emma’s face. Her eyes were dark with desire, her chest rising and falling quickly, her lips slightly parted. They sat in silence and lost themselves in each other’s eyes, the sound of their breaths in sync was all that could be heard. Slowly, Julian moved his hands underneath Emma’s shirt and ran his fingers up and down the bare skin of her sides, his gaze never leaving hers.

Looking into Julian’s eyes, every thought left her mind except for one word: Closer. Swiftly, she caught the hem of her tank top and pulled it over her head, leaving the upper half of her body completely exposed. And yet she felt completely safe in Julian’s arms. She wanted nothing more than for him to know every inch of her. Her heart was free of fear, too full of love and desire to have room for anything else.

Julian’s gaze was still locked with hers, although his breathing was more labored now than it was when she had her shirt on. She smirked at him, finding joy in the idea that she had that kind of power over him. Planning to take full advantage of it, she pulled him flush against her, the skin of their bare chests hot against each other. He growled in her ear and she laughed, pulling away from him.

In an attempt to take back the control she had stolen, Julian caught her mouth in a kiss and firmly gripped her hips before flipping them so that he was propped over her, his chest against hers, their hips locked together, their feet tangled in the sheets below. He caught her bottom lip between his teeth and tugged gently, eliciting a moan from Emma’s parted lips.

“Closer,” she whispered again. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in, claiming his mouth with her own. Over and over, Julian’s mouth opened over Emma’s and over and over their lips met in a clash of heat and desperation. Eventually, Julian pulled away and turned his attention to the places that her shirt had revealed. His lips traveled from her throat down in between her breasts and even further down her stomach, leaving open-mouthed kisses in his wake. Emma had her hands in his hair, keeping him close against her, whispering his name into the darkness. “Julian, Julian.”

When he reached the top of her shorts, he paused and looked up at her. Emma’s body was screaming at her to tell him to keep going, her skin begging for the touch of his lips. But the picture before her was one she wanted to savor forever, and she allowed herself to take it in. Julian, her Julian, with a tousled mop of brown hair that fell across his forehead, his ocean blue eyes looking up at her through his dark eyelashes, his cheeks flushed with color, his body pressed against hers, his fingers running lightly over her sides.

He dipped his head and planted a soft, lingering kiss on her hip bone and Emma shuddered at the intimacy of the gesture. She reached down towards him, her fingers seeking to touch his face as she pleaded, “Closer.”

He turned his eyes up towards hers and was just beginning to push himself up onto his hands to climb on top of her when a cry pierced the air, dragging them out of the fog of desire they had lost themselves in.

“Tavvy,” Julian groaned before collapsing against Emma, his head laying on her stomach. She laughed at his pouting and reached down to run her hands through his hair. For a few seconds, neither of them moved, content to simply be close to each other. Their inhales and exhales paired together and their hearts found the same beat. With a heavy sigh, Julian lifted himself up and pulled Emma in for one final, deep kiss before breaking away.

“Go to sleep, my love,” he whispered. “I’ll be back soon.” He held her close and pressed a kiss to her forehead before turning away. Emma’s heart ached as he closed the door behind him, but more than anything she felt love. Julian would always put his family first, and she would do the same, for they were her family too.

She smiled at the thought, giddy with a happiness that she never thought she would feel. Her skin was still warm where Julian had touched her and the bedsheets were cool against her bare skin. She lay her head against the pillow and closed her eyes. Knowing that the boy she loved the most in the world would be coming back to her soon, she fell into a peaceful sleep.

-------------------------

The creak of the door woke Emma from her slumber. Although her back was to the entrance, she recognized Julian’s soft footsteps as he crossed the room. She felt the mattress shift underneath her as he climbed into bed beside her, pulling the covers over his body. He reached out to her and pulled her against him. Their legs and feet comfortably intertwined under the sheets and Emma adjusted her position, curling her head into his chest, his arm coming up to wrap around her waist. He settled beside her, a soft exhale escaping from his lips. Under the cover of darkness, Emma leaned forwards and pressed her lips to his chest, right above his heart where his faded parabatai rune was painted white against his skin.

The fear had been ingrained in her since the day she found her parents’ mutilated bodies washed up on the sand in Los Angeles. It didn’t matter that they didn’t actually die thrashing around in the waves, scrambling towards the surface, begging for air. It didn’t matter that they had been killed by a warlock on dry land and left lying around for someone to stumble upon. The fear was born that day, and the fear still lived on. 

Staring out at the endless deep blue abyss, all she could feel was the fear — the tightening in her chest that made it hard to breathe, the beating of her heart steadily growing faster and faster and faster, so fast that she thought it was going to break through her chest but she couldn’t breathe or speak or —

“Emma. Emma, look at me.”

Emma tore her gaze from the sea and turned towards the voice. It was that voice, his voice, that had always been able to reach her when no one else’s could. It was his words that brought her comfort — they always had and they always would. From the secrets whispered in her ear when they were just children to the vow of loyalty and friendship that he proclaimed to her in their parabatai ceremony to the promises he breathed against her skin every morning when they woke up in each other’s arms — that he would never leave her, that he would always protect her, and that she was his happiness, his refuge, his universe, his Emma. Even now, years and years later, it was his voice that she loved to hear the most. 

“Emma, love, it’s okay. I’m here, I’m here, I’m here.”

Over and over he whispered those two words against her as he held her close, his breath stirring the blond strands of her hair. 

“Jules,” was all she could manage to say. 

Responding to her voice, he began to pull away from their embrace, but Emma tightened her hold on him so that they were pressed up against each other even closer than before. She wasn’t ready to talk — she just needed him to hold her. Her skin tingled as he ran his hands up her arms that were wrapped tightly around his waist. He started at her elbow, tracing soothing lines up to her shoulder before wrapping his arms around her fully, letting one hand rest in the center of her back while the other found its way into her hair. She heard him softly telling her that she was safe, that everything was alright, that he loved her and would always protect her, but she felt so far away. All she could hear was the crash of the waves banging against the shore again and again and again. She felt like she was drowning and it didn’t matter that she was on dry land, up on the porch of their little house that sat quite a ways from the water. She had to get away from it all or she was going to drown.

“Can we go inside?” she whispered against Julian’s shirt. He smelled like he always did — cloves, soap, and salt — and she knotted her hands in the fabric as he lifted her up from the waist to carry her inside. She brought her legs around his torso and crossed her feet so that they rested against the small of his back. She squeezed her thighs so that she was wrapped so tightly around him that she worried for a second that he might not be able to breathe. It wasn’t that she feared that he would drop her — Julian was strong and she trusted him more than anyone in the world — but her ears still rang with the beat of the ocean waves and he was the only thing that kept her from falling under their dark cover. 

Julian sat down on the edge of the bed and scooted back so that he was leaning against the pillows layered in front of the headboard. Emma was now seated in his lap with her knees on either side of his waist. Despite the change in position, her arms were still locked around his neck and her forehead rested against his shoulder. He traced circles on her back and whispered soothingly into her hair. Everything about him — every word, every touch — was soft and gentle. 

Emma could hear Kieran’s voice in her mind telling Julian that he had a ruthless heart. She could see herself standing in front of him when they were still parabatai telling him that he had scared her, the way he crafted lies with ease and delivered them without batting an eye. But this Julian, the one who held her now, he was gentle. Because Julian was gentle with the things that he loved. 

Emma knew that his heart wasn’t ruthless, it was simply broken — just as hers was. They both had lost so much and endured pain that no one should have to endure. It left them shattered, simply fragments of who they could have been if their parents were alive, if there had never been a war, and if they had been normal parabatai — parabatai that had never fallen in love. But their parents had died, and they had fought in a war, and they had fallen in love, but together they picked up the broken pieces and they each served as the glue that held the other together. It was love that turned Julian from an innocent boy into a man — a man who killed his own father to protect his siblings, who raised four kids when he was only twelve years old, who watched as his sister died in his arms, who started wars and won them no matter the cost. It was love that made Julian ruthless. But it was love that made him gentle too. 

Eventually Emma’s heart rate slowed and her grip on Julian loosened. Sensing this change, Julian spoke.

“Em?” he whispered.

The years they had spent together allowed them to hear the words left unspoken between them. Emma knew that he was doing more than simply asking if she was ready to talk. In just that one syllable, there were hidden promises: that if she was ready to talk then he was ready to listen and that if she wasn’t, then he would hold her close until the time came. All she wanted was to stay wrapped up in Julian’s arms and let him tell her over and over that she was safe and that he loved her until her fears faded away, replaced by his soft voice and his strong hands. But she was a warrior. This was simply another battle that she had to fight.

Emma took a deep breath to ground herself and squeezed her eyes shut as she lifted her forehead from the safety of Julian’s shoulder. She kept her eyes closed as she straightened her spine so that she sat upright in Julian’s lap. Even when she felt him push a lock of hair behind her ear and even when he kissed the tops of her eyelids with a tenderness that made Emma’s heart squeeze in her chest because she didn’t deserve this boy or the love and patience that he showed her; she didn’t deserve someone as good as Julian; she was broken beyond repair and she didn’t deserve someone who was so willing to break himself apart to put her back together — even then, she kept her eyes closed. It was not until she heard his voice that she let herself see his face.

“Emma, look at me,” he breathed.

The first thing she saw was the pair of blue-green eyes that she knew so well starting back at her. She remembered the night on the beach when she had looked in his eyes and seen pure fear and desperation. In some ways it had been terrifying to see him so out of control — Julian was supposed to be the level-headed one who kept her grounded and tempered her blazing fire. But that night the walls he had built so carefully around himself fell apart in front of her.

“We are bound together Emma,” he had said. “Bound together — I breathe when you breathe, I bleed when you bleed, I’m yours and you’re mine, you’ve always been mine, and I have always, always belonged to you!”

Now when she looked at him his eyes were clear — the wall had been gone for so long now — and his gaze upon her was steady. There was overwhelming gentleness in those blue-green windows mixed with a tinge of sadness at seeing Emma in pain. Without thinking, she ran her thumbs under his eyes and down his cheeks as though she were wiping away his tears. She was the one with wet cheeks, however, not him. 

He smiled softly and his eyes fluttered shut at her touch for just a second before he was looking at her again. 

“Ems, talk to me,” he pleaded and the softness of his voice broke whatever wall was holding her together. 

“It terrifies me,” she cried, choking on her tears. “I can’t think or breathe or move and I just imagine them dying over and over again and I never got to say goodbye and I —”

A sob escaping from her throat interrupted her spill of words and she quickly clasped her hand over her mouth to cut it off. Julian tightened his arms around her and pulled her closer to him so that she was curled up against his body. He kissed her temple and spoke to her softly promising once again that she was safe, that he was there and he wasn’t going to leave, that above all else he loved her and everything was going to be okay. When the sobs that racked her body subsided, Julian spoke again. 

“Your parents loved you, Emma. And I wish they were here.” He planted a kiss on her shoulder before continuing. “God, I wish they were here. I wish they all were here, that we could have all made it out in one piece.” He took a shuddering breath and Emma knew that he was thinking about Livvy and remembering her sweet smile and bright eyes that lost their light when she died in Julian’s arms. She knew that there would always be a hole in Julian’s heart where Livvy should be and that there was a part of him that would always be broken. No matter how hard she tried, that piece could only be healed by his sister’s touch — a touch that he would never experience again. 

It was her turn to comfort him now, to save him from the thoughts that ran through his mind each night; the thoughts that drove him into a spiral of guilt and grief so deep that it left him frenzied and lost whenever he resurfaced. She pushed herself up onto her knees so that he had to crane his neck back slightly to look at her face. She pressed her lips to his forehead and wrapped her arms around him, resting one hand at the back of his neck and the other in the curls of his hair. They were both so broken; scarred by their trauma so deeply that it woke them up in the middle of the night sweating and screaming and breathing heavily, but they were always there to comfort one another. Sometimes it was Julian holding Emma in his lap while the nightmare subsided and other nights it was Emma shaking Julian awake, pulling him out of the dark places that his mind took him, grabbing his face in her hands and waiting until his eyes cleared with the realization that the nightmare wasn’t real but Emma who sat in the bed beside him was. 

They were broken yes, but they were also strong. Even after losing so many, they still chose to love, and it was the love they had for one another that soared above it all. They were strong in that they still found joy and laughter despite the sadness they had endured and they still saw hope for a better future even with the darkness of their past casting a shadow over them. They were strong. It was what they whispered to each other on the nights when the nightmares came — they were strong, they were okay, they had each other and they would make it through. 

Julian pulled away and looked up at Emma, twirling a lock of her hair around his finger. He looked her in the eyes and spoke, no longer allowing himself to be comforted when he knew that Emma needed it more. 

“I know that it scares you.” His voice was steady and his gaze upon her never wavered. “But we fear things because we value them. For so many years you believed that it was the ocean that took your parents, that they died hidden underneath the surface in endless darkness. And so you feared the ocean because it took the two people you loved most in the world. And it may take years before that fear subsides, but you are strong, Emma Carstairs. You are the strongest and the bravest person I know and when the day comes that you want to dip your feet in the water, I will stand with you.”

He leaned up to brush his lips against her jaw and then her neck before settling back down again. He took her face in his hands so that she was looking straight into his eyes. “But until then,” he whispered, “we will stay on dry land and I will stand with you here, too.” 

With a small tilt of his head he brought his lips to hers. He let his hands travel down her back until they found a place to rest on her hips while Emma brought her hands up to cup his face as she deepened the kiss. She ran her thumbs across his cheeks and allowed herself to get lost in the taste of his lips. She opened her mouth over his, breaking the kiss for just a second before connecting with him again. It was slow and gentle — exactly what both of them needed. They loved each other with a passion that burned inside of them like fire, but sometimes a brush of lips and a whispered “I love you” was all they needed to keep themselves from falling apart. 

Emma pulled away, at last, still holding Julian’s face in her hands. Their foreheads were pressed together and Emma looked down upon Julian’s closed eyes, his dark eyelashes resting on his cheekbones. He looked so young, so innocent — there was no ruthlessness in this boy. But no matter how he looked, Emma knew that he had grown up too quickly in order to take care of his siblings and that his innocence had been stolen long ago, replaced by blood on his hands. Julian Blackthorn was ruthless, but only to those who threatened what he loved. And Emma was the one he loved the most. 

“Julian,” Emma whispered into the space between them. 

He mumbled a soft “Hm?” and opened his eyes in response to her voice, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. 

“I love you,” Emma said quietly. 

He brought his hand up to push her hair out of her face and allowed a single golden strand to flow across his palm as his fingers traveled down to the frayed ends. “I love you too, Emma,” he whispered back. 

They sat in the silence for a while, arms wrapped around each other as the sound of waves crashing against the shore seeped into their little house. Finally, Emma spoke. 

“Jules?” 

“ Yeah?”

“Can we go put our feet in the water?”

He slowly moved his forehead away from hers and looked at her closely for a long time, running his finger across her face, tracing the shape of her lips. He couldn’t help but smile. This was his Emma — a warrior who faced her fears head-on and never considered even for a second that they would get the final say. 

“Are you sure?” was all he said.

“Yeah,” she replied and her mouth slowly grew into the shape of a smile. It was that smile that brought Julian a feeling of happiness so strong and so deep that sometimes he thought that it would kill him. But no, he would survive it, he would survive all of it — all the wars, all the battles, all the demons in the world. You could turn a thousand soldiers against him and he would come away victorious just for the chance to see that smile one more time.  

“Yeah, I’m ready. All I need is you,” she said.