The cabin door creaked open under Morrigan's trembling hand, snow curling in behind her like a ghost trailing her heels. Her breath clouded in the cold, heart thrumming in her ears louder than the wind. She didn't knock. Didn't speak. She simply stepped inside, pulled forward by something deeper than instinct. Something fated.
And there he was.
Samael sat on the floor, back against the wall, sleeves rolled to the elbows, shirt hanging open like he couldn't be bothered to close it. His breath fogged faintly in the dim air. His wrists rested on his knees, eyes downcast, like he'd come here to fade.
He didn't look at her when she stepped into the room.
But she saw the way his shoulders tensed.
Snow still clung to her lashes, melted in rivulets down her coat. But none of it mattered. Not the storm outside. Not the ache in her lungs. Not the pounding in her chest.
Only him.
"Why didn't you let me fall?" Her voice barely carried across the room. A whisper, fragile and fractured. "If you wanted to protect me- why save me?"
His jaw tightened. Breath shuddering as it left him. For a moment, she thought he might not answer. That he would stay silent, stone-bound by his rules and regrets.
But then, quietly:
"Because I now understand what it feels like... to lose someone I love. I've been watching hundreds of people -and families- over time. And I couldn't do it. I couldn't lose you."
The words cracked something in her. Not sudden like glass- slow like roots splitting stone.
She walked toward him, slow, careful steps across old wood. Her boots barely made a sound. There was no anger left in her. Just aching softness. Just love she hadn't known how to hold.
"Then stop pretending you don't want me," she said.
His head lifted. Eyes finding hers for the first time in a while.
Blue. Frozen starlight. Haunted galaxies. He swore he could feel the entire weight of time in them. He didn't blink. He just looked at her like she was the last warmth in a world of endless winter.
"If I touch you, Morrigan..." he said, voice rough, "I won't be able to let go."
"Then don't."
She knelt in front of him. Close enough to feel the cold coming off him like mist. Close enough to see the way his hands twitched in his lap, like they wanted to reach but didn't dare.
Her fingers lifted to his face- hesitant at first, then sure. She traced the curve of his cheek, the sharp line of his jaw. His skin was so cold, like marble left in moonlight. But he leaned into her hand as if it were the only thing tethering him to this world.
"You feel like death," she whispered.
"And you feel like everything I was never allowed to have," he murmured.
She kissed him.
Not with fire. Not with heat or hunger.
But with tenderness. With the ache of a soul that had waited lifetimes.
His lips were still at first- uncertain, cold. But then his hands rose, slow and reverent, curling around her waist like she might vanish. He kissed her back like she was made of glass and god-light. Like he was terrified of her and everything she made him feel.
"I don't know what happens after this," he breathed against her lips, voice shaking.
"Then let's make this real while we still can."
Their clothes came off like unravelling a secret.
Slow. Careful. One layer at a time. Every movement an offering, a confession.
He touched her like she was sacred.
Like he was ashamed of the ice in his fingers but couldn't stop reaching. His hands trembled when they slid over her bare skin. She was so warm. So painfully alive. He closed his eyes, like her warmth still burned- but he didn't pull away.
He clung to it. To her.
She guided him down beside her onto the bed in the corner. The old wood creaked under their weight, but neither of them cared. The storm outside howled against the cabin walls. Inside, there was only breath. And skin. And soft gasps that felt like prayers.
"Tell me I'm not just a heartbeat to you," she whispered, lips brushing his throat.
He turned his face into her hair, and for a moment, she felt something wet touch her temple. He was crying.
"You're the reason mine never stopped," he said, voice cracking like frost underfoot.
They moved together like they had all the time in the world- and none of it.
No rush. Just the desperate grace of knowing this might be the only time. That the world could take it from them any second. That fate was already turning the hourglass.
She held him like she could thaw his soul with her touch.
He kissed her like he could remember what it meant to be alive.
And for a while- there was no Tribunal.
No Veil.
No Judgment.
No war waiting at the edge of this love.
Just her, wrapped around him like warmth and forgiveness.
Just him, whispering her name like it was a sacred thing.
Just them.
Two souls who had never been meant to touch, now intertwined like constellations colliding. Like ice finally meeting flame.
And in the hush that followed- breath slowing, bodies tangled, hearts thunder soft- Morrigan buried her face in the crook of his neck and held on tighter.
His eyes held a weight that stole the breath from her lungs. There was something almost frightening in the way he looked at her- like he was seeing the first warmth of sunlight after a lifetime of shadows. He wasn't living, not in the way most would define it, but around her, he felt dangerously close to it. She made him feel alive- and that terrified him more than judgement ever had.
She was the flaw in his design. The fracture in the silence he was born to keep. And yet, she felt like home. Like something meant -destined- even if everything about their meeting had been chaos and accident.
Reapers weren't meant to feel. Weren't meant to need. But when he looked at her -really looked- he felt something ancient stir in his bones. A knowing. A recognition. As if the cosmos had once whispered her name into his soul before he was ever born.
Her steel blue eyes said what neither of them dared speak. The way she gasped when his hand brushed her skin. The sharp breath that left her lips, not from fear, but from feeling- real and raw. It wasn't supposed to happen. The laws of the Veil were clear, carved into stone and shadow: love was a violation. A sin. But if this was wrong, then it was the kind of wrong that tasted like salvation.
She craved him. Not just his touch, but the way he touched- like he thought she might disappear if he held on too tight. And he... he was utterly undone by her. The way her voice trembled when she said his name. The way she leaned into him like she belonged there, in the space between his ribs where no light had ever touched.
His hands, cold and trembling, skimmed along her skin like he was memorizing every inch- etching her into himself. And when he cupped her face, the reverence in his touch nearly shattered her. No one had ever handled her so gently, like she was something precious. Cherished. Like all her scars were holy and all her cracks deserved sunlight.
She'd never known love like this- love that didn't demand, didn't break, didn't hurt. Love that wrapped around her like a soft wind and whispered, stay. She could see it in him, feel it in the way he held her- desperate and devoted, like the entire universe had narrowed down to just her.
He adored her. Worshipped her with quiet glances and softer words. And she? She was ruined for anyone else. Because how do you go back to ordinary, after you've touched something divine?
She didn't fear the cost. If he was a sin, she would burn gladly. If this was her undoing, then let it be- because in his arms, she had never felt more whole.
And when she caught herself watching him -really watching- she often wondered how they got here. How fate had brought her to him, instead of someone easier. Someone allowed. But she never wished it any different. Not for a second.
Because she loved him.
Madly. Quietly. Entirely.
And he truly loved her too.
Even if the world said they shouldn't.
If sin was so bad, why did it feel so good?
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