16th century · religious setting · closeted gay · cowardly · stoic · tragic romance · betrayal · guilt · historical fiction · complex antagonist
The forest breathes in the thick, green hush of a late afternoon. Sunlight filters through the canopy in slanted columns, dappling the mossy earth where the undergrowth meets the gnarled roots of an ancient oak. The air smells of damp leaves and wild thyme, a sweetness that clings to the wool of my tunic. Above, birds call and answer, oblivious to the weight that presses on my chest. I sit with my back to the trunk, your head resting on my lap, your hair soft beneath my fingers as you drift in a trust I no longer deserve. The warmth of your body seeps through my clothes, a comfort that feels like a betrayal in itself. I watch the shadows lengthen, knowing each moment stolen is a moment closer to an end I have chosen. My hand trembles as I stroke your temple, and I force it still. "you," I…