The Night Watch

I held her pressed up against my chest, my arms tightly locked around her as if to trap her there for an eternity to come, but it only lasted a moment. The moment and my grip faded, time slipped between my fingers and before I realised, she had moved back to sit beside me, I found my arms empty.

“I never took you for the sentimental fellow.” She jested, a gentle chuckle escaping her lips, blending into the crackling of the fire before us. “Thought you’d nearly squeeze me to death there.” I looked at her and forced the corners of my mouth to return a soothing smile, but my gaze must have betrayed me. She had always been able to look past the façade I raised, had always seen a glimpse or hint of my true thoughts. She possessed a magic I could not place, but either her talent was waning, or my walls had grown thicker and stronger.

With a sombre look, her lips finely pressed together, her shoulders slightly raised, she averted her eyes back to the fire and exhaled deeply. “I should get some rest. I’ll take over the night watch in a few hours.”

My eyes, now too, seeing her draw away from me, returned to the dancing flames, gently warming my front. The warmth gently caressed my cheeks, while the smoke gently stabbed at my eyes. I opened my mouth to wish her a sweet rest, but the sound escaped me. All I could produce was silence, a painful silence, as if my words were balled up in my throat and unable to leave.

“Goodnight.” And with those words, she turned her back to me and lay down to rest.

The night had always felt like a dark and cold place, only illuminated by the even colder shimmer of the stars and moon. Many poets sing and rhyme of the beauty of the moon and stars, about how much it calls to them, about how much it represents a deep love or companionship. Something forever present, something as certain as the idea of the sun rising in the morning.

When I looked up at the vast night sky, I never felt comforted. I never saw what those hopeless romantics saw in that endless void. While they stared themselves blind onto the flickers of light, all I could ever feel or see was that ocean of darkness and distance. Cold and vacant. The emptiness hanging over our heads and clinging to our backs as we sit in front of the fire, like a shadow sown to our flesh and running its sharp claws over our skin. Not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you of its lingering presence, or the absence thereof.

Then she joined my travels. As arbitrarily as she found me, some of that light found me, too. I never believed I would find that warmth and reassurance, but seeing her look up at the sky in sheer wonder and glee… It equally shattered something in me, as it gave way for something new. Something vulnerable, although I could never put it to words, let alone explain it to her. Gods know she’d never stop talking of the day she changed that stubborn ass’ mind and gave him hope. I took to her like I had never taken to someone before, and she knows. She must know. The way she smiles at me, the way she carries herself around me, the way she looks-

The way she looked at me, until this night. I was always a man of few words, but my silence tonight was different than any other night we had spent together before. My silence felt heavier and more painful, like daggers stabbing at my chest with every word left unspoken and every gesture left unanswered.

Perhaps she noticed. Perhaps she noticed and didn’t know how to answer, although that would be a first for her. Or perhaps, she noticed a difference, a change that no one could explain.

At first I was able to pretend that the numbness in my fingertips was a temporary side-effect, that I was just overworked or simply required more rest. Once the denial made space for panic, the absence of gentle touch spreading through to most of my fingers’ length in my dominant hand, hiding from the future and the consequences became a daunting task.

Soon, I won’t feel the grip of my sword, the burn of the rope of my bow, the warmth of the fire, the cold of the water, or the gentle touch of a hand grasping mine. My strength wanes, even as I think of it. I am running a race against time, my own body failing me on the way, but not that it matters. Time is not known to be beaten. I will lose, and that is something I will have to come to accept, but it’s treacherous when my body is not willing to give in and still fighting the losing battle. I want to reassure it, that we’ll be okay, but perhaps my body knows more than my beaten mind.

Tonight, I wanted to hold her as if it were my last time holding her. I wanted to bring her between my legs and kiss her forehead and just hold her there until daylight would break and the others would wake up.

I wanted to cement her touch into my skin so I would never have to part with her again, even if it meant it would sear her body into mine.

Instead, I lost myself in the few seconds she spent in my arms, trying to grasp the feeling so badly, the moment slipped between my fingers and faded away like any other vague memory.

One of these nights will be the last one. One of these nights, will be the last night I hold her. And if the gods will it, one of those nights before it, will be the last time I will feel the touch of her skin. Do I risk dimming her shine, by telling her of my hardening touch, or do I let her live blissfully, to go on and inspire me and others blithely until I can no longer hide behind the silence?

All I can think of, is this final moment and the darkness that surrounds it. She is my star, my warmth in the night, my forever presence. Perhaps it is only my fate to be her night sky.