They have offered me my life for my love.
They will kill us all- unless we surrender lovely Julian.
He is more than what he seems. He is the chosen one; I see that now.
How could anyone do this to him? And how can he not do it? He is too noble to let them kill us all.
They will hand him over, and he will go.
Lovely Julian!
They have offered our lives for my love.

Behold, he speaks!
He says he will go. He will betray himself to death to save lives. If it will save lives. This he has determined to do, and he will not turn back.
He tells us that all they have said is true: he is the chosen, and they want him. And, for him or against him, many will die.
Will we fight? Will we try once more?
He looks at me. He looks as if I struck him with the words I said. They are not mine, Julian. I only carried the doom, beloved.
Beloved- I dare not call you that aloud, only in my thoughts. There you must always remain beloved.
A lord you are- a childlike lord! You speak with the voice of a mortal, younger and frailer than my own brother, who now holds me close and still- yet your words are those of a king. Strange, how you command so- childlike love. Like a child, you are both flawed and pure. My heart used to thrill when you spoke. Now it throbs. Soon you might speak no more.
They have offered our freedom for Julian, my Julian.
They may as well have asked me to carve out my heart. I cannot live without a heart, and Julian cannot give me a stone to replace it.
They have offered me my life for my love, and thus my life for my life. They have nothing to offer. Nothing to take.
But he looks at me, and his face says again that he will go. He does not want more to be murdered- for him. I pierced his heart when I sobbed that they wanted him, that we would die if we did not hand him over.
If it were only me to save or kill, I would not let him go. I have nothing I can lose that he is not. But the others do not love him.
Will they give over "the boy"?
"The boy!" They spit it out as if he were a curse, a disease, or an animal. He is not. He is chosen, and he is lovely. He would be lovely even if he were not chosen!
I made you laugh, once, Julian. Now do you weep? I wish I could make you laugh again. It was so easy when you were just another boy. So easy to like and be liked, to sit together and- and laugh. Just laugh. Will you or I ever laugh again? You look as if you will always weep. If you do weep, do not waste tears on me, who brought your doom, and thus, my own.
You laughed for me. Tonight and continuing, I cry for you, and for myself.
Shall I always cry? Forever, until a broken soul kills me?
"Narcissa," you say.
I had forgotten my own name. Did you know, Julian, that you brought the narcissus out of her self-centered shell and taught her to love, without conceit or arrogance?
"Narcissa…"
No. I am Narcissa no more. Until you return, my name is Sorrow. Oh, Julian…

*I know it’s kind of clunky and confusing. I don’t know how to make it a story, but there ‘tis. If someone else was to  write it into something longer and post it here, I would be very excited. But I know the effort isn't really worth it.*