By the time my children turned fifteen, I was already deep into stage three.
The disease wasn't merciful anymore. It stopped giving me days. Now, when it hit, it swallowed me for months.
I still remember the day it happened. I was in the lab, alone, buried in notes and old samples of crystallized Fluvium tissue. My body had started to feel heavy hours before, but I ignored it. I always did. I wanted one more formula, one more hypothesis, one more possibility because if I stopped, I'd have to face the truth that I was dying.
The last thing I remember was the sharp sound of glass shattering against the floor as I fell, my head striking the cold metal table.
When I opened my eyes again, I wasn't in the lab. I was back in my room and she was there.
Anastelle sat beside the bed, her posture far too still for someone of her usual commanding nature. For a second, I thought I was hallucinating. She wasn't supposed to look like that. Her hair was unkempt, her eyes rimmed red, and her expression… it wasn't cold.
"You're awake."
Her voice trembled.
I let out a slow breath. My throat burned like I'd been breathing acid.
"Seems so."
She leaned closer, her silver eyes darting over my face, as though checking if I was still really there.
"Are you in pain? Can you breathe?"
I chuckled weakly, though it came out as a rasp.
"You look worried."
She didn't answer. That was answer enough.
"Anastelle kill me."
Her body froze completely. She didn't even blink. I forced my head to turn toward her. Her lips parted, but no sound came out. She looked like she'd just been shot. I wanted to die.
"Kill me. Please."
She shook her head, slowly at first, like she hadn't processed it.
"What… what are you saying?"
I laughed, and it broke mid-way into a cough that made the sheets stain with a few drops of blood.
"It's been fifteen years, Anastelle. Fifteen years of fighting this thing and I've found nothing. Nothing. I've tried formulas, serums, tissue regeneration, even foreign flux rebalancing, none of it worked. You and I both knew this would happen."
"You don't get to say that."
"I've lived longer than anyone with Fluve Syndrome ever has. I got to see them grow. Phaser's strong. He's got that light in him, the same one I used to have. Xaessia's brilliant. She's got your eyes and your commanding nature. I saw them become people, Anastelle. I got to see that. That's more than I ever expected."
Her breathing was uneven now. I could see her chest rising and falling faster.
"You can tell them I reached stage four. Tell them I turned into a Fluvium. They'll understand—"
"Stop."
Her voice cracked like glass. She was trembling now, her fists clenched, her eyes burning with something I couldn't name.
"Stop talking like that."
"Anastelle—"
"Don't you dare say it again!"
The sound made me flinch. She stood up so fast that the chair clattered backward. Her whole body shook.
"Do you think I can just stand here and watch you give up? Do you think that's what I want?!"
I opened my mouth, but she didn't let me speak.
"Do you have any idea what these years have been for me? Do you think it was easy to keep ruling, fighting and commanding all while watching you rot away in that lab, smiling through it like you weren't dying?! You think I wanted to look at you every day and pretend it didn't kill me inside?!"
Her words hit harder than the disease ever had.
"I didn't join the World Forces because I had to. Every time I saw you, every time you smiled at me, every time you coughed and tried to hide it, I wanted to tear the world apart just to make it stop. And I couldn't. So I left. I left to forget you because I wasn't supposed to feel this way. Argemenes rulers don't love. We don't ache. We don't cry. But I do. And it's your fault."
My lips parted, but nothing came out. I could feel something tight in my chest, a heat that had nothing to do with the illness.
"I love you, Richer. I don't know when it started. Maybe it was when you swore you'd live even after I told you to die. Maybe it was when you smiled at me the day you first collapsed. Maybe it was when you looked at our children with eyes that still found joy, even though you were breaking. I tried to bury it. I tried to drown it in war and power and distance. But it's still here."
She was crying now and it was the most emotional state I had ever seen her. The mighty Vecrian Sovereign was crying before me.
"Don't ask me to kill you. Don't ask me to lose you. Not after all this. You think I can stand it? You think I can just... move on? You want to die because you think it's mercy but it's not. It's selfish."
I was silent for a long time. The only sound was the uneven hum of the machines monitoring my pulse.
And then I smiled.
Hah.
Who knew that I would change someone like her? Has the world ended? Someone like her is saying these words?
"You know, I thought I'd never hear you say that."
Her eyes widened, as if she hadn't realized what she'd confessed. I coughed blood again. But it didn't matter.
"Then I'll live. Not because I have to. Not because I'm stubborn. But because you love me. That's reason enough. I'm going to live to see the heartless Anastelle cry for me."
She stared at me, silent tears streaming down her face. Is this the reward for my hard work? Even though it took fifteen years, I'm really glad I died before this.
"Come here."
She hesitated as if she was terrified.
"Richer, if I touch you—"
"Then I'll be hurt but I'll still live. You said it yourself. I'm not allowed to die yet. This is the first time in my life you did not order me to do something."
For a long second, she didn't move. And then, slowly, she reached out. Her fingertips brushed mine. I felt my pulse spike, the heat rising in my veins. It hurt. It burned. But for the first time in years, I didn't care.
Because for the first time in fifteen years, Anastelle was holding my hand.
And for the first time in fifteen years…
I wanted to live.