Marry You

Alaric dived into the water and pulled Lara's limp body out. Her lips were tinged blue, and her skin was deathly pale. He cradled her close, feeling the faint rise and fall of her chest—a fragile flicker of life.

Scanning the area, he spotted a low-rise, smooth, flat rock formation near the east wall. He carefully spread his cloak over the surface, turning the rock into a makeshift bed. Gently, he laid Lara down in prone, her body slack like a broken marionette. Her head lolled to the side.

Alaric knelt beside her, his hands moving instinctively, rubbing slow, firm circles over her back. "Come on, Lara… breathe." His voice was hoarse, thick with urgency.

Lara let out a shallow cough, and water spilled from her lips; then, she passed out.

Alaric exhaled a shaky breath, but the relief was fleeting. His gaze swept over her—her arms, her torso —all of it battered and bruised.