He worked diligently, day and night, in hopes to find his cure. The days had passed slowly and he had lost count of them. Years had passed, though he could not be sure how many. She was still with him, however, and that was all that mattered. She was what kept him going. She was the ultimate goal. He had done so many things throughout their relationship to drive her away. He wanted her, but he could not love her. Those feelings were impossible for him to know, despite how desperately he wanted to, so he tried to push her from him. She would have none of it. She stuck by his side and there she stayed, through everything. She was his partner, his coach, his muse, and most of all, his love.
Despite the curse, he had begun to feel. Though at first he did not understand that which she had planted inside of him, he felt it growing and knew he had to find out what it was. She told him of love so many times and she made it sound wonderful. So wonderful in fact, that he had begun his experiments in secret.
As time passed, he came to understand the feelings inside of him, and the closer he came to the answer, the more he wanted. He wanted power, he wanted fame and fortune, but only if he could have her too.
His dreams were plagued of her; the vibrant red of her luscious curls, that pale skin - marbled with the powdery blue of veins. Her eyes, most of all, haunted him. Her eyes had been such an intense green when they'd first met. She had been so vibrant and full of life. That was what attracted him to her in the first place. But back then he was not interested in companionship. He was interested in her spirit, in using her to his own gains. She had quickly taught him to think otherwise, and he was more grateful of that with each passing day. Now, her eyes were a pale comparison of that. While her appearance remained youthful, her eyes betrayed her. She was truly old, wise and she was dying.
Through all of this time, she had expended so much of her energy that her spirit had started to wither. Each time he saw her, he could see in her constantly paling eyes just how great of a toll he took on her. He looked into eyes so faded they were nearly purely white. He knew he must hurry or he would lose her forever.
The wizard quickened his pace, his experiments grew more extreme. To the outside viewer, he was a murdering bastard. He was, in all senses of the word, evil. However, he was changing, and so deeply that even he could hardly believe it. Murder still he did, but it was blood shed in the name of love.
She knew he was getting close. She could feel it. But when would he be over? When would it be done? When would she finally be able to touch him without causing him pain? The curse that had befallen him disallowed him contact. Each caress was agony, each kiss was torture. Because of this, they did not have much physical contact, despite the yearning they both had.
She sat now, in a tavern near the wizard's tower, staring into the depths of a glass of wine and allowing her thoughts to sink. Her heartbeat had grown so faint that she could no longer hear it. Sometimes she wondered if she had not already died and this was her Hell; an eternity of waiting for a dream that will never become reality.
Days had passed since she had last seen him, and he had not been in a jovial mood. In fact, they had not spoken much that day. The few days following went by with no contact from him. Even though she lived within his Tower, she never knew where he was or what he was doing.
The back of her neck grew warm, itching, and slowly grew into a burning that could only signify one thing. He was thinking of her. She touched the mark on the back of her neck and smiled. When he had first marked her so many years ago, she had hated him, and hid it from everyone. But now she was proud of that scar, and the bond that it signified. She closed her eyes, inhaling the thick fragrance of alcohol and wood in the room. He was thinking of her alright, but in an entirely different way.