He hated to say it outload, to bare to her all the truths of his heart, of how he loved her, but truly believed that to give into it would be to sabotage her. He hated himself, because he knew it hurt her. That thought in and of itself was almost enough for him to cast aside his doubts, and kneel before her, and ask her to honour one who would never deserve it.
He turned his eyes away, lowering them, as he embraced his unworthiness, the truth of who he was and what he had been raised to. As he crouched there, eyes cast to the darkness, she would lean forward. He would feel the softness of her coat as it pushed against him, and feel an ache in his heart and in his body. There was no wolf in the world that compared to the beauty of his Empress. She was otherworldly. If ever there was a time that he believed in gods, it would be here and now, with Deathbelle before him. A wolf destined for utter greatness. If any could rise as a deity to this world, it was she.
He pushed gently against her forehead instead of spurning her touch, leaning into it, closing his eyes, and letting a soft sigh escape him. “I love you, Bee” he whispered softly, that weakness still inside of him. “My loyalty to you is absolute, I would kill, die, and live by the honour of being your vessel.” he continued in a soft, quiet tone. As through a lowered voice might not carry across his pain. She sobbed, and his fangs parted in a grimace. He did this, he caused her this pain. He wished he could rend his flesh, in the way he felt his heart was tearing asunder. “Please, please don’t shed tears for me.” he begged.
"Speech"
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Bloodletter
