We were the kings and queens of promise

[Breathing harder and trying to straighten up, staring at the key, which has been clenched in his hand this entire time. All he can see is that bloody body again, that symbol of his inability to ever lead the kind of life Nunnally wishes, even here. That cycle of death that had finally reached the one who had helped orchestrate it so many times and yet remained immune to its gasp.]

... It... won't be her burden.