There were times even now when Diarmad did not know truly how he had survived it all. The years had become a haze and more then once he had lost his way. Though he always stood tall still he'd tripped and stumbled along his way. Perhaps he had done so too many times...and in that such time was lost to them. Often he was left questioning every step he had made, curious then if others could have been made to allow him to win the fight. A warrior that never truly made way against the enemy...
Exhaustion was bound to set in, seeping through ones form till they could scarcely continue to drag their bodies forward. Diarmad had never experienced it before. In battle for him, there had never been a breaking point. With his clan, during that final battle, he never once stopped. The bodies limits had mattered not and he fought until they dragged him down. And still even then he'd fought, it taking many men to still him.
But this fight was not of the sword and physical strength was not what it took to win. His mind, his soul, perhaps even his heart was not strong enough to endure.
The scars of the battle were worn plainly now within his eyes. There for any that knew how to see. He wore well the guise of the guard, the warrior, but much had been broken away through the years. No he was no god, though she saw him as so much more he was still only a man. Flesh and blood who could be wounded and killed. Stone skin did not prevent all damage done...
So much weight...so much pain...but Diarmad held hope still. Not in himself or in his fight, but in the belief that perhaps her eyes had truly seen and all he had done was not for naught. Perhaps he could find peace in that, some solitude through all the turmoil, some ease within the hollowness that begun to spread. There were still sparks of he man long ago lost, anger, oath...when pushed he still had strength to stand. But the man that she had seen in the battlefield, the one that fought for family, for life, had remained there.
A specter upon the battlefield.
Perhaps it was that ghost that Rebecca saw in his eyes, why at times he reminded her so of her father. His brother had been just as lost. Both men were still tied to that land that now held nothing of what had been home. But he knew should he return, he would still see the blood upon the ground. He would still see the outline of a castle now nothing more then rubble to the ground.
His heart still remembered that time…
But no matter the ghost he was, no matter all done, he still had pushed forward. He had still tried for a cause beyond himself. Beyond honor, beyond pain…if he saved her, maybe then the death she had taken from him could be found again. Maybe then honor would not be so lost to him.
"That is all I can ask." that she truly try. Try in ways that she had not before. Try and not take all steps back away from it. Try and not dismiss everything he had done for her.
His arm encircled her, holding her to his large form. He did not move, did not shift or even let his wings fall. But he stayed, holding her, encircling her in warmth his form no longer held.