Work Text
Green was the colour of
his
favourite curse—not Belanus’.
When he arrives home that evening, Rosalie is sitting at the dining room table. Her eyes flicker to him, but she doesn’t say a word until he sits down.
“You’re late again,” she says.
The prepared excuse is on his lips, yet he finds he cannot lie to her; she already knows where he’s been. She always does.
“You know I cannot leave at will,” he says. “This evening was very important.”
“Nothing can be that important,” she says, her eyes boring into him. “Who was it this time?”
His cheeks grow hot—he hasn’t murdered anyone tonight. He was serving their lord, making sure the world was a better place for their family.
“Family, first and forever.” Rosalie stands and leaves the room.
Green was the colour of her beautiful eyes—the eyes that held love for him, no matter how stupid he was.
She is tucking Theodore into bed when he walks into the room.
“I’m sorry.” The words sound foreign to him, but he means it.
Rosalie doesn’t turn to him straight away, her gaze on their now sleeping son. “You need to protect him.”
Belanus places a hand on her shoulder. “I will always protect my family.”
He is taken aback when Rosalie faces him. Her eyes are fresh with unshed tears.
“I don’t just mean from
him
,” she says, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
He’s not sure what she means but it doesn’t matter; all is forgiven.
Green was the colour of the trees—the trees in the park he no longer visits.
“Are you sure you don’t want to sit down? You don’t look well.”
Rosalie shakes her head and tilts her face towards the sun. The rays catch the copper streaks of her hair. Even so, she looks paler than usual.
Theodore clutches onto her hand and tugs her towards the pond. Belanus looks at a bench nearby, hoping that Rosalie will rest for a little while, but he does not want to ruin their outing.
Green was the colour of their robes—lime green robes.
He can see their mouths moving, but the words are not registering. No words except, “the treatment isn’t working.”
He wants to jump up and curse the Healers. They had said that they could cure her, that they were going to stop the disease. Yet here they were, declaring her finished.
Rosalie squeezes his hand, and he stays seated. Her green eyes focus on his, and he finally understands what she’s been trying to tell him: protect Theodore when she could not.
Green was not the colour of the spell he used—not against his wife, anyway.
As mourners pay their condolences, he knows what they’re really thinking: that he killed her, like so many other women. Taking Theodore’s hand, he leads the boy away from the graveyard and their gossip.
He will protect his son from everything, even if it means that the green will appear in his life again.