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It's already dark. You find Hedwyn outside, gazing up at the stars. When you sit down next to him, he briefly glances at you, lips curving in the familiar shape of his smile.
"Good to see you, my friend," he says. "I was already worried you'd run yourself dry with all the work you've taken on."
He looks back up at the sky; you look at him. For once, he seems... peaceful. Relaxed. When Hedwyn blinks, you notice how long his eyelashes are, and catch yourself thinking that it's a good look on him.
For a while, neither of you says anything. With Hedwyn, silence is always a comfortable affair - for all his easy smiles and effortless charms, there is never an obligation to impress him in any way, regardless of whether it's about small-talk or about major decisions you have to take. You can just be yourself, and if that means not talking at all, that's just as well to him. Perhaps that's one of the things you appreciate most about him: the way he cares about the comfort of his compatriots, and the soft way he adapts his behaviour around them to secure it.
With you, for instance, he never pried. Whenever you could offer details about your past, few though they may have been in conjunction with your sparse memory, he took them in and never asked for more. It was always enough. You were always enough.
You'd chosen to return that favor, consciously - and yet by now, you have come to regret it. What a foolish decision it was, for you to assume Hedwyn didn't wish for you to pry, either, when you could have asked him about that in the first place. Instead, you made up your mind over his head, and deprived yourself of... of so much you could have had. Hedwyn has so many stories to tell, after all. Had. Will have had. There's no chance for you to hear them now, for tomorrow, the Liberation Rite will be upon you.
Tomorrow will be the last you see of Hedwyn.
You haven't told the Nightwings that you're dead-set on that. But you are. The moment you learned from Sandalwood that you'd need to prioritise, you knew it would be Hedwyn, for how could it have been otherwise? After all he's done for the Nightwings, for you, after all his kindness and sacrifices, how could you not do everything in your power to reunite him with his love?
(You try not to think about the separation this entails for you; you're doing the right thing, you know you are, and despite the pain of separation and loss... it will be worth it. That, you're certain about.)
As you drift along your thoughts, you're met with plucked notes from the Blackwagon, lingering the cold air. Rukey has requested yet another song from the Lone Minstrel, then, and Hedwyn's fond smile matches your own. You grasp the melody's strings to return to the present moment.
When Hedwyn begins to hum along to the melody, however, you quickly force yourself to glance away, to the side, then up at the stars. Surely, your face would betray your emotions otherwise - because oh, you already knew his voice was pretty, but you never expected it to be that beautiful in song. It shouldn't have been such a surprise, though, for you've yet to find a single thing about Hedwyn that isn't beautiful.
(You've yet to tell him that. But you won't, not ever, especially not now, and so treasuring this memory is all you can do. A grim laugh bubbles up inside you, together with a greater understanding for Sandra, but you push the treacherous sound down, down as far as you can. You won't let bitterness taint your last evening with Hedwyn.)
Your chest stings when you notice how Hedwyn, without even being aware of it himself, uses his right hand, Hedwyn to trace the song's path. It's such a small gesture, one that shouldn't matter at all in the long run, and yet... it's so like him that you find yourself blinking back tears as you watch and commit every single flourish to memory. You can't say for sure how long the song lasts, though you notice its end approaching in the way Hedwyn gradually slows, in the way his voice grows quiet eventually. You glance away agin and you find Hedwyn looking at you. If he noticed anything different about your disposition at all, he doesn't mention it.
"Do you know what the song is about?" he asks. His voice is soft, quiet, and you shake your head in response. "It's... a rather ancient melody, if Tariq is to be believed. One of the very first love songs to have been written in the Downside." There's his smile again, paired with an amused hum when he adds, "Rukey says it reminds him of his mother's lullabies. He'd always howl along, apparently."
You snort, and Hedwyn chuckles, too. The image is simply too endearing.
You catch the way Hedwyn's eyes crinkle when he laughs and file that memory away for later, too, after folding it into an elegant paper crane. It's so easy to pretend, when Hedwyn begins to talk about the ballad's history and deeper meaning, that it's about you two, and that it's you who he's thinking of right now. So easy to lose yourself in that fantasy, too, even knowing that a fantasy is all it'll ever be. You know that - and it's alright. Truly, it is. Because for what it's worth, you were enough for Hedwyn, just the way you are, and at least this feeling is mutual. You'll have to say your goodbyes to him tomorrow, yes - but the brief time you had him wasn't just enough.
It was plenty.
Is plenty.
He's not gone yet, after all.
And so, as the stars above you twinkle in their familiar pattern, you make sure to listen to every word he says and every note he hums to explain the intertwined harmonies of the song. It's all you'll ever need.
It's easy to pretend that the love song is about you, so easy - and for once, you allow yourself to live in that simple fantasy. When you'll prevail tomorrow, when Hedwyn's form will vanish inside the Shimmer-Pool, and when the grief and loss will settle into your bones and weigh you down - then, perhaps, you'll ask Tariq to sing the song again for you, and allow yourself to think about Hedwyn as you hum along.