Chapter 14
You bump along, driven in a hay carriage Bill had on hand, Otto’s head in your lap. Bill is up front, having permitted you a “last goodbye”, as he put it, punctuating his words with a cruel chuckle. As much as you want to strangle him, you’re grateful to him for this at least, even if it was meant as a taunt.
You carefully tip some water from a jug next to your legs onto a handkerchief, draping it across Otto’s feverish forehead. He sighs softly in pleasure, face relaxing. He looks up at you, taking a moment to recognize you. Then his eyes lock on yours, and love and warmth flow into his expression.
“Y/N! Where-” his voice is husky, and he doesn’t seem to remember much. It’s probably for the best that he doesn’t.
“We’re going two towns over, to Sheffield. There’s a doctor there. You’re going to be ok Otto, just rest. There’s nothing to worry about, ok?” He smiles happily, reassured, and with a content sigh, closes his eyes. You feel your eyes again well with tears, but you swipe them away. It’s best he doesn’t know. He needs to heal.
You take another wet handkerchief and run it along his blistered cheeks, cooling his sunburnt skin. Suddenly, his eyes open again, and he looks up at you with concern.
“But Y/N, didn’t Bill say-?”
“Yes. But it can’t be helped, Otto,” you reassure him. “I can’t let you die.” He takes your hand, squeezing firmly.
“Y/N, you can’t sell away the rest of your life in exchange for mine. You said it yourself, you’d rather die than marry him!” he protests desperately. He tries to sit up, but you gently push him back down.
“I told you. It’s alright. I can’t let you die,” your voice is sad, but resolved. You know this is the right decision. Hell, even if you hadn’t taken Bill’s deal, how would things be any better? Bill would kill Otto, and maybe you wouldn’t be obligated to marry him, but you’d be completely alone, perhaps never to love again. And Bill was right, you couldn’t go on being an unwed woman forever. At least this way, Otto would survive. Maybe you’d even meet again someday, or maybe-
“Y/N, I don’t want this,” Otto says softly, tears welling in his eyes. “You don’t have to do this for me.” He’s upset, fluttering on the edge of consciousness, but still breathing steadily. Suddenly, his eyes close again, and his head relaxes into your lap. You sight sadly, watching him regretfully as he sleeps.
“I love you, Otto. I can’t let you die.”