As Bridget spoke to him, her fingers moving lightly across his skin and brushing the hairs on his face, the rest of the world seemed to go silent for Godric, and he felt a stirring in his chest. It was Sæunn's voice he heard, as he wished to hear it; the touch he felt as one that knew his body, and had known it for twenty-five years, despite time apart. Were it visible, the enchantment he felt at present would be seen weaving its way around him from their physical closeness. His eyes flickered down to her lips when she leaned in towards him. His heart yearned...
...but as soon as the thought washed up like the last of a gentle morning's wave upon the shore in his mind, the woven magic seemed to snap apart, more frail than dry old twigs, and Godric abruptly sat back, putting space between them. "No," he said stiffly. "I am sorry. I see this now." He moved to stand then, gathering his things that he had set down earlier. "This is a trial by the gods to prove the strength of my oath — I am sorry — I have strength of my own enough to pass yet. I must take my leave."
To turn away from her broke his heart, but he could not fail, not now, not ever. Something deep bored a hole into his chest, and it stung enough that he nearly felt the need to physically hold his hand over his heart. He did not know what he had done to convince the gods to test him now, but he stood still a moment, begging them in silent prayer to stop. "I must go," he repeated when he had prayed enough for the public eye.
Daring to look back, though he did not turn towards her in full, Godric summoned up what mental strength he had left for tonight. "It is the man who runs through your dreams, and his heart, that you love. I cannot give you what you seek." And with that, Godric began to walk away, his lips thinned out across his face, which was grim.