#and I feel like I haven’t done much today

[ashblooddragons]

The Red Queen (Chapter 8/?)

112 ac

Your Pov

It's the day of Mama's funeral. I try not to cry again as I sit in the bath as my maid wash hair. 

“What oils would you like today, Princess? Your usual jasmine?” Orchid asks already reaching for the oil bottle ready to pour it in the tub and my hair.

But instead, I stop her and think about Mama's calming scent and Ali's vanilla scent, or at least that's what she calls it.

“What was Mama's oil?” I ask and I see the flash of sadness cross Orchid's face before she smiles and grabs another bottle. 

“Lavender, the late Queen loved Lavender.” She says filling the dropper before letting the oil drip into my bath and hair.

“Can I have vanilla too? Or would that smell bad?” I ask curiously before biting my lip nervously.

“Lavender and vanilla would be lovely together, Princess.” Orchid says before reaching for the small vial of vanilla oils.

Once she has them both in the bath and my hair I feel safe, like a warm hug, like I can breathe again. I start to cry again but Orchid acts like she doesn't notice, most of the maids act like they don't notice. I don't understand why, why can't they wipe my tears like Kepus and Ali do? Why can't they hold me so close like Kepus and Ali do? They hold me so tight it's hard to breathe but I can feel their hearts beating feel they're alive feel they're here.

But what confuses me the most is why Mama had to leave me? She promised after this baby was born she would play with me finally, that she would come to my leasons and see how smart I'm getting. But now she can't do that, because she's gone forever. 

Everyone keeps saying that, but they won't tell me how long forever is, only that it is forever. It doesn't make sense, I just want to know when I can see my Mama again when she'll be back to play and see how smart I am. 

“All done, Princess.” Orchid says wiping my face of the water from the bath, but from her frown I can tell she was also wiping my tears. 

I stand in the bath and use my step stool to get out so she can wrap me in a warm towel that always feels warm against my skin because she rests it next to the fire, and smells of something woodsy. 

I'm quickly dried and dressed in a black dress. Put on thick wool stockings as it's chilly today and my hair braided so it's a crown upon my head. Orchid helps me put on my bracelet and necklace from Kepus like always before someone knocks on the door.

“Come!” I call out rubbing my already raw and painful eyes. I then look down in case it's Papa, he seems to not be able to look at me anymore. I don't understand why though I haven’t done anything wrong. 

“Ñuha riña, it's time to go.” I hear Kepus say.

Not Papa, I don't have to hide my face. 

I turn and look up and see him frown at how bloody my lips and how red my eyes are. 

“Can't I wear red, it's a much prettier color than black.” I say frowning

This seems to make him happy as he chuckles with a shake of his head before he kneels down so he can hold my hands in his. My hands always seem so small when he holds them, not like the big girl hands I like to think they are. “No, I'm afraid not ñuha riña. Black, is traditional mourning colors you will be wearing them for a while yet.” He says inspecting my hair to see how well done it is.

“I did it today, M'lord.” Orchid says from her spot behind me with her head down.

Kepus made sure to tell Orchid only she and him can do my hair now, maybe the ‘little Hightower’ but I don't know who that would be. 

“I figured as much, it's not in her eyes.” He responds with a nod to my maids before picking me up and walking out of my room.

Once in the carriage I see Nyra who is glaring at me as usual but this time it sends chills down my spine. Had I done something? And then I see Papa next to her and he won't look at me, as if doing so brings him pain. I must have done something bad, but what?

The ride is quiet, almost suffocatingly so, so I feel I need to break it. 

“When will me and Nyra know when to tell Syrax and Stromchaser to dracarys?” I ask Papa but when he doesn’t answer I turn to look up at Kepus instead.

“I’ll count down from five, once I say zero you two command them to light the pyre.” He says glaring at Papa or some reason.

I only nod and look out the window watching as the smallfolk cry for Mama. They miss her too, hopefully their Mama’s aren’t goen too. 

When we make it to Rhaeny’s hill Kepus picks me up again and whispers to me “it’s quite steep, ñuha riña, don’t you tripping and getting hurt.” 

I feel the wind against my back, it makes me shiver as I cling to Kepus hoping he'll keep the cold away. Once we make it to the top of the hill he sets me down on my feet. He lets me cling to his leg as the Valyrian priest chants.

I try and ignore them as I look at Mama and baby Baelon, they're wrapped in a brown cloth so tight I can see the outline of Mama's arms, legs, and belly. Her belly looks weird but I ignore it as it's probably because she's dead. 

Once the priest is done and walks away I let go of Kepus and walk forward with Nyra. 

“It's time girls, are you ready ñuha riña?” Kepus says standing between us.

I want to scream ‘NO’ but I know that I must, that Mama and Baelon must be ‘put to rest’ or at least that's what Ali said. So instead I nod my head as I wipe my tears.

Kepus looks between us one last time before sighing and nodding his head, a lmost like he's defeated. 

“Five.”

I gasp realizing I'm never going to be ready this, to let Mama go. At least before I had to turn her to ash in the wind I could pretend she was just on a long trip, that she wasn't gone that she was only seeing her family in the Vale.

“Four.”

I feel my heart clench, feel it about beat out of my chest. It's painful, it hurts, but not as much as when I burn Mama away.

“Three.”

I can't breathe, why can't I breathe? I can feel my heart practically beat out of my chest. I feel my lungs constrict so I can only take in small gasps of air.

“Two.” 

I feel Kepus rest his hand on my shoulder giving it a squeeze. I still can't breathe, still feel my heart beating out of my chest, but for some reason, it's all getting easier to deal with.

“One.” 

I hear Stromchaser let out a cry of pain, Kepus says they feel our emotions, our pain, I have to stay calm for Stromchaser. But I can't I can't calm down, I'm losing Mama forever.

“Now.” 

I figured out what forever means, and all it took was me screaming with Nyra, commanding our dragons to make Mama and Baelon ash in the wind. Make them gone forever.

Once Stromchaser and Syrax stop their flames I turn to Kepus leaping into his arms and sobbing. Sobbing that I'll never get to see Mama again and play in the gardens with her. Sobbing because I'll never get to meet my baby brother. Sobbing that Mama and Baelon are gone forever.

Daemons Pov

I stand leaning against the Weirwood tree waiting for that blasted Dornish man, Cole. 

I knew after that fucking Sarwyck lost in the first round you needed a better guard. Though my pride was hurt I can't deny that Cole proved himself, that he would be the perfect guard for you. 

I remember the look of hos face when I grabbed him after, it was a look of horror, of fear of what the Prince of the city would do to him. Instead I only whispered one thing.

“Meet me at the Weorwood tree in a week's time at the hour of the wolf.” 

He quickly agreed of course but now I'm wondering if I should have threatened him instead of letting him go on his merry way. 

I hear a twig snap under someone's foot and turn to see him. He seems to have rushed here if the sweat on his brow is any indicator.

Must have realized he was almost late. I think with a cruel smirk. 

“You wished to see me, my Prince?” He says winded and bent over with his hands on his knees catching his breath.

“I have an offer for you, though if you take it you'll answer to me and no one else.” I say standing straight and walking towards him.

“Wh-what do you mean?” 

“You took down one of my Gold Cloaks, he was in charge of the care and well-being of the youngest Princess. Can't have someone who can't even beat a stewards son protect my sweet little niece, now can I?” I say in a calm voice that has always led men to do as I please, even my brother, the King. 

“And what does that have to do with me?” He asks standing straight again hands behind his back.

I know that stance, I know it well. 

“You're a soldier aren't you.” I say but it was rhetorical

“Yes, my Prince.” He responds curtly but I catch the scowl that he was read so easily.

Oh just you wait, Ser Cole, you'll learn to hide everything in this pit of vipers soon.

“If I could make it where you have a very high chance of becoming a Kingsguard, would you?” 

He seems shocked from the way his mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. I can't fight the chuckle that leaves me, nor would I want to. 

“It would be an honor, my Prince. But why would they choose a stewards son over a lord's son who has also been to war?” He asks, curious and skeptical to this offer.

“And what I'd I said they wouldn't be others who have gone to war?” 

He freezes for all of ten seconds before a smile comes to his face. “And what would you need from me? Of course after you give me such a high ranking at court you will want something in return?” 

I stop and look at him surprised. Most who are not from Kingslanding would have taken this chance by now, I can't tell if I'm proud, annoyed, or impressed. I think before responding.

“You see, I noticed something about our match. I had my blade to your throat, I let you live, and yet at the first chance you got back up and made sure I'd be the one to yield.” I say smiling when he starts to shift uncomfortably.

“It was a fair fight, you know it just as much as I.”

“Never said it wasn't, you never said you yielded, so by all rights you could, and did get back up to continue to fight.” I say smirking when I see the tension leave his shoulders.

“That still doesn't explain why you need me.” He says obviously getting annoyed.

“It's simple, I want- no I need a man who will use suck ‘dirty’ tactics when defending my niece. If I was to help you, you will defend the youngest, the Realms Darling they call her.”  

“Why her and not the eldest?” He asks confused.

“Rhaenyra has at least three guards at her demand, none are truly hers but they may as well be. The youngest…well she has only had the spares or the ones I give to her. I wish for her to have one I know I can trust. One that will give me the information I desire, when I desire it.” 

He seems to contemplate his options, though before he even says it, I know what he'll do.

“I'll do it.” 

I can't fight the smirk that comes to my face as I shake his hand, a symbol of a good deal. 

Once he's out of my sight I look down at the gold cloak against my back.

Fuck I could use a drink and a whore. I think before walking towards the most depraved parts of the city looking for a night to forget all I've lost, if only for one night.

Viserys Pov

After that ‘talk’ with my small council and the very long day I've had I knew when my head hit my pillow I'd be asleep. 

All I saw for a while was darkness, I figured it was because I was still awake but then I saw a light far away and knew what was going on.

Not this blasted dream again! I thought as I stormed forward knowing what I'd find.

The throne room was dark, not a candle lit on the walls, but there was fourteen candles lit in front of the iron throne. They always seemed to dance, I swore if I moved closer I would hear the sounds of childlike giggles. Most are on their own, standing on their own candle sticks, but three have two prongs with two candles on the stand. 

It's all the same, even those damned faces are still blurry! I think ready to turn around until I hear the booming voice of my Grandsire.

“You will stay, boy!” I feel my bones rattle just from the sheer force my Grandsire has spoken to me.

I now don't feel like a King, I feel like a little boy again being scolded for trying to steal a sweet…again.

“Why do you bring me here Grandsire? You have made me come to this room with its candles every night ever since my dear wife has passed! Well before that I was having this dream once a moon!” I cried out looking up and around me searching for my Grandsire.

“It is not our fault you are not Brave son. That you will not face what you already know.” I then hear my Father, the one man I always wished I could be, but Daemon has always been more like him than I'll ever be.

“What is there to see? Fourteen candles, two blurry faces on the throne? I've seen it! I understand I must have a son to put on the throne!” I sob out feeling their disappointment, their regret, knowing I'm far from the monarch they wished from me.

“Have you thought that perhaps if you moved closer the faces would be clear? Or are you that daft Viserys?” I hear their voice now combine, hear my fathers furious tone mixed with my Grandsires disappointment.

I shake my head but still listen to their advice. As I move forward I begin to hear the sounds of a woman giggling at something a man had said. Another step, and I can make out the woman's curls and theans long straight hair. One more and I see a gorgeous woman on my brother's lap, though it is not him that wears my crown but her.

The two of them stop their chatter, my brother is the first to turn to look at me.

“How lovely for you to finally join us dear brother, I was beginning to wonder if you ever would.” I teases with that smirk of hos that always make me want to punch him right in the lip. 

That'll show him who's older still. I think with a smile before I leaves me and a pained gasp leaves me.

The woman has turned her head to look at me, I would have never recognized her if it weren't for those eyes. One of Lavender and one of Ice Blue, the ones I can not look at, the ones who only bring me pain.

“You know what you must do, Father. You always have.” You say but it is not your little voice, it is a woman's voice.

I wake with a gasp before turning and letting my dinner meet my chambers floor.

“You know what you must do, Father. You always have.” Those words keep running through my head as I try to catch my breath.

I have, haven't I?

Special thanks to @sugutoad for making the header for this fic, I swear I'd be lost without you girly!

TAGLIST: @sugutoad @ilikefelines @classicsimpforaaronwarner @mmogurl @sachaa-ff

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

In Love and War (9)

Summary: The completion of the wards falls on an anniversary Warlord!Rhys can't forget.

Content Warnings: Mentions of Death/Infant Loss; Depression; Mentions of Drinking.

Author's Note: Brought the story back just to fill it with angst, I'm so sorry!

Previous Chapter/ Masterlist

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Rhys is gone by morning, his side of the mat cold. My head feels like it’s full of cotton; mouth full of sand. My bones ache, most of all my hands, it’s an effort to stretch out my fingers without feeling like my skin might tear right off the bone.

At least I haven’t covered the tent in vines while I slept.

There’s a waterskin and some rations left beside the mat for me, after a couple minutes of trying to rub the stiffness from my fingers, I sit up and scarf it down like I haven’t seen a meal in a week. My stomach certainly rumbles like it. I wonder if an increased appetite is a side effect of expelling so much power?

Once I’m finished, I slip back into my armor, wincing at the smell that clings to the leather. I need a shower, desperately! We’re supposed to be meeting up with Cassian’s group today, hopefully that means we’ll return to the valley soon and I can find some place to get clean. 

By the time I’ve finished with the laces, Azriel’s poking his head in the tent and giving me a five minute warning before camp starts to move. He doesn’t offer up any answers as to where Rhys is before disappearing again.

Hoping the minatiny of this familiar task will help lessen the tension in my muscles, I make quick work of tearing down the tent and getting it all rolled up to leave. My head still feels terribly foggy, but I suppose I could still feel like I was going to tear out of my skin, so I’ll take it as a win. 

Azriel helps me get the supplies mounted onto Rhys’s horse, but the warlord still doesn’t show himself until right before we leave. He wears his cowl again, the stars covering his eyes, the heavy fabric shielding his wings from the cold mountain air. His gloved hands grab my hips and lift me into the saddle and he swings silently into his seat behind me without so much as a hello. 

I try to not let the silence get to me, but worry worms its way into my chest the longer we go without speaking. Had I done something wrong yesterday? Was he irritated with how slow my progress has been? He seemed pleased last night, had I misinterpreted it?

His powers seem… dull today. The starlight not so bright, his shadows sluggish as he stitches the wards back together. His body is heavy against my back, like he’s having a hard time holding himself upright.

“Are you ok?” It takes a couple hours for me to work up the courage to ask.

He nuzzles his cowl covered head against my neck. “I’m all right.”

“You’re quiet today,” I say gently.

“Just a little tired,” he assures.

“Did you not sleep?” I was so exhausted last night I hadn’t been aware enough to see if he’d fallen asleep with me. He’d been so exhausted when we’d made it back to camp I’d just assumed he was out as fast as I was.

“I’ll sleep when this is done,” he replies.

My chest aches at the thought of him being up all night, tying these wards back together after spending all day babysitting me and my errant powers. “You need to rest too.”

He kisses my temple, his lips like ice against my skin. “I’ll be alright.”

A few more minutes of silence stretch out between us, the only sound the horse’s hooves against the rocks and boisterous conversations of the men behind us. They’re in good spirits today, making bets on whether or not we beat Cassian around the mountain. Rhys makes no attempt to join the conversation, his focus still on the wards.

I see no sight of the other group ahead of us, just lots and lots of mountain, and some dark clouds ahead of us. We might meet Cassian as the storm arrives to meet us. I shiver at the thought of what might have happened to me if I was still out alone in that kind of weather. It’s almost cold enough to snow, if I had still been looking for game in that poor excuse for clothes, no real shelter to be had, I’d be dead. It still hits me like a slap to think that Tam left me out here, knowing I could die, knowing I wasn’t prepared to make it on my own.

“How do you feel today?” It’s not the first time I wonder if he can hear my thoughts somehow. He always seems to know when they turn to Tamlin.

“My head feels like it’s full of cotton,” I say truthfully. “But it is better than yesterday.”

He twists to find the waterskin and passes it to me. “It might feel like that for a while.”

I subconsciously bring my fingers up to rub my temples. “Suppose it’s better than clawing at my skin all day.”

“It will help if you keep practicing,” he assures. “The more you get comfortable with it, the less energy you will have to put in expelling it. It will come out naturally and it will hurt less.”

I think the bones in my fingers might snap in half if I keep trying to summon claws after yesterday. 

He stops warding long enough to cup my hands together in my lap. “Just practice making those flowers, like last night. No shapeshifting on Midnight, he doesn’t like having fangs near his neck.”

“Your horse’s name is Midnight?” I can’t help the laugh that slips out of me. Death Incarnate rides a horse that sounds like it got its name from a child! It’s so very un-Warlord like of him that I can’t help but smile.

“He was born at Midnight, so his name is Midnight,” Rhys counters and Midnight huffs in what sounds like agreement.

“Oh of course, I was just expecting something… more intimidating, I guess.”

Midnight shakes his mane in a way that looks to me like I’ve insulted him and I run an apologetic hand over his silk smooth neck. 

“It’s intimidating,” Rhys insists.

“It’s cute,” I amend.

He huffs as he leans his chin down against my shoulder, hand leaving mine to resume his stitching. “I was ten, it sounded cool to a ten year old.”

I try to picture a scruffy haired ten year old Rhys, but come up empty. “Even cuter!”

“Hush, you’ll ruin my reputation,” he warns, nipping playfully at the juncture of my throat and shoulder. 

“Your reputation is safe with me,” I swear.

He chuckles at that, but as my focus shifts to practicing like he suggested, he once again slips back into silence. His shadows drift lazily over my arms and wrists as I practice, as if watching my progress. Sometimes they brush soothingly over my shaking wrists, or rub circles into my palms when the tension becomes too much, but Rhys says nothing for hours.

The storm on the horizon continues to drift closer, the temperature dropping the further into the mountains we go. When I start to shiver, he draws his cloak around the two of us, and tucks himself a little tighter around me to share the blissful warmth of his body heat, but even then he says nothing. 

Worry once again worms its way into my chest. Is he hurt? Did I do something wrong yesterday? Did he somehow figure out what I’d done?

I worry my lower lip between my teeth to avoid him seeing me wringing my hands the longer this drags on. We don’t stop for lunch, only for a brief period to let the horses drink from a small stream, and not even long enough for us to dismount and stretch our legs. It’s a quick drink and then we’re right back to it. The men seem pleased with this, the less stops mean the sooner we reach the rendezvous point and beat Cassian. If any of them think something is amiss with Rhys, they don’t voice it.

It comes to a point that I try to catch Azriel’s eye to see if the other male notices anything off with his warlord, but Rhys keeps us steadily ahead of the others, leading the way into the coming storm. 

The wind beats relentlessly at us now, I have to shield my eyes by tucking my head inside Rhy’s cloak. Still, Rhys doesn’t slow, even if I hear the heavy rasp of his breathing beneath his chestplate the harder he pushes. 

By nightfall, lightning streaks across the sky in angry slashes, thunder echoing off the mountain tops. I can smell the rain on the wind, though trouble finds us first when a lightning strike hits the side of the mountain and a rush of boulders and debris come raining down on our heads. 

Rhys’s magic flares in a protective shield above our heads, sheltering us from the worst of it, and once he’s sure everyone is unscathed, he presses on. 

Still, none of the men protest. Not even when the rain finally comes. It beats down on us like thousands of icy needles, pelting relentlessly against every bit of exposed skin it can find. Rhys’ cloak protects us from the worst of it, but even for all its magic properties, it can’t keep the rain from sliding down into our boots. 

I try not to complain. I’ve been through worse. But my teeth are chattering and I’ve done my best to curl up into his chest to try and preserve any bit of body heat I might have left. “Rhys, are we going to stop soon?”

I’m not sure at first that he can hear me over the rain, but his body shifts, an arm wrapping around my waist and then Midnight is moving faster, uphill. A few minutes later, the rain stops. Well, not stops, I can still hear it, but it no longer beats against us. 

He slides off the horse and I hear the wet thwack of his boots against stone before he hauls me down onto the ground next to him. I don’t know how he’s not shivering, he’s as soaked as I am.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, pressing a damp kiss to my forehead. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

We’re in a large cave carved into the mountain. It’s cold and damp and so dark I can barely see, but it’s not raining on us any longer so I’ll take it. The rest of the men file in behind us, proving the size is bigger than I can make out in the dark. 

“Az, get a fire going,” Rhys orders. 

“This the spot we’re meeting the others?” One of the men asks.

“It’s up the ridge,” Rhys returns as he pulls off his gloves and shoves them in his pocket so he can help rub some warmth back into my fingers. “I’ll finish it in a moment.”

He brings my hands up to his lips and as Azriel gets a fire going with some debris littering the cave, I get the first real look of him all day. “I’m sorry, Darling,” his eyes are rimmed with dark circles and bloodshot, face pale. “I’m sorry.” He keeps repeating it even as he kisses my knuckles, more like he’s talking to himself than me and my chest cracks open a little more.

“It’s ok,” my teeth are still chattering. 

Some of the men find the wood they’ve kept wrapped and dry and get the fire growing, but Rhys pulls me farther into the dark, deft fingers unlacing my chestpiece, the leather sticking to my damp skin. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers again and even though he’s still brushing his lips against my forehead while he works, I don’t feel like he’s seeing me at all. He’s far, far away from me, body moving on instinct and I reach out to touch his face.

“Hey, I’m ok,” I promise.

But he won’t stop moving, not until he’s completely stripped me of all my wet clothes and found something dry to slip me into in his pack. They’re all way too big for me, but they're dry and I can’t make any complaints about it. 

“Was distracted,” he mutters to himself, hands pulling my damp hair off my neck and into a swift braid. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m ok, Rhys,” I assure. Some warmth already returning to my stiff limbs.

He still doesn’t hear me as he leads me back over to where a roaring fire now blooms in the heart of the cave. A few of the men stand around it, warming their hands, but the rest remain dutifully near their horses, waiting. 

Rhys throws a blanket around my shoulders as he helps me sit like I’m incapable of doing it on my own. At least all the supplies had been covered in waterproofing before we set out. Nothing has been ruined. Anything too soaked to be of use gets left draped over some rocks near the fire to dry out.

“Better?” His own wet clothes make a puddle around him as he kneels next to me, making sure I’m fully wrapped up in the blanket. 

“Better,” I confirm, and I mean it, the heat is delicious, warming the rock beneath us so that the chill is no longer seeping through my clothes. 

He leans in to kiss me gently on the lips, like I’m made of glass or something. “I’m sorry.”

I try to reach for his hand to assure him that I am fine, but he pulls away before I can. 

“Stay with her while I finish the wards,” he orders Azriel.

I drag my attention away from Rhys to look at the other Illyrian. The orange glow of the fire of the sharp planes of his face make him look like a primordial god. 

“You shouldn’t go alone,” Azriel returns, muscular arms crossed firmly over his chest.

Rhys huffs as he strides past him, “Stay. With. Her.” Then he’s back on his horse and riding back into the rain before anyone else can try and stop him. 

Azriel sends some of the men out with him before settling down next to me on the floor.

I don’t know Azriel well enough to start up a conversation, at least, rationally I know that. That doesn’t stop me from trying anyway. “Is he ok?”

Azriel throws his wet boots to the floor to dry out with a sigh. “Today’s a bad day.” His wings flair out behind him, shaking out water droplets that make the fire hiss and sputter.

I glance at the remaining men, who make themselves comfortable and busy doing anything other than sit near the two of us.  “What’s today?” 

Hazel eyes flick briefly to me, and I get the distinct impression he’s sizing me up, before he goes back to starring in the fire. “Feyre…”

Shit.

“She died five years ago today.”

I glance back towards the mouth of the cave, out into the rain, even though I can’t see him out there in the dark. 

“She…” Azriel throws another log into the fire with the energy of someone who just needs to be doing something with his hands. “She was pregnant. A boy. They’d just found out the gender.”

I don’t know what to say. The beast that lives caged beneath my skin howls and rages against my bones, like it might break free and rip through the pain I feel shred my soul at the realization of how deeply Amarantha had hurt him. My claws tear easily through my nail beds.

“He always gets like this on the anniversary,” Azriel continues. “Usually does some reckless shit and drinks himself half to death.” He too glances out the mouth of the cave. “Give him some space tonight, ok?”

I nod, not trusting my voice to speak. 

“He’ll need you in the morning. It’s usually worse the day after, when he wakes up and realizes…” he trails off.

“When he realizes she’s not coming back,” tears prick the corners of my eyes. How many mornings had I awoken, still anxious that my mother had wandered off while I slept, only to remember she was gone?

“Yeah.”

“Will you check on him, in a bit?” I tuck my head against my knees. 

“No,” Azriel replies. “If I leave you alone tonight…” he lets the words hang there, but I get the point. The look in Rhys’ eyes earlier was clear enough. If he thought for even a second that I was in danger tonight, after what he’d already lost, he might just tear the whole world apart.

I pull the blanket tighter around myself and lean back against a boulder, trying to get comfortable. I’ll just have to wait up for him then. He has to come back eventually, right? He’s not so distracted by the date that he’d stay up in the rain all night, would he?

Azriel brings some food out for me a little while later, and some of the men start playing card games to pass the time. We don’t speak any more after that though, the silence only broken by the pounding of the rain against the mouth of the cave. I barely have the stomach to eat anything, I just keep staring at the entrance, waiting.

Today isn’t the day to ask him why he chose me. Tomorrow won’t be either. That’s ok. For whatever reason, it doesn’t feel like it matters right now. He needs me. I’ll be here. Whatever the reason fate brought us together, whatever either of us intended to do, tonight it’s irrelevant. Tonight I don’t want to think about all the trouble behind me. I just want to be here for him, like he has been for me. 

The hours start to tick by. Some of the men unfurl their sleep mats around the fire and drift off. Azriel sits dutifully beside me, spinning his dagger in his hands, only getting up every now and then to feed the fire. Rhys still doesn’t return. 

My fingers drift absently to my chest, to that spot where I sometimes feel that thing that ties me to Rhys. I don’t know that it’s really a bond, it seems cruel that the Mother would tie me to him when he deserves someone better than me, but tonight I hope that it is something. I push on it, hoping that there’s another end where he can feel me. An end that tells him I’m here if he needs me, if he wants me. I can’t replace her. Or what he’s lost. I won’t even begin to try, but if he wants me, I will be here, waiting.

“You should get some sleep,” Azriel says after a while.

I shift my position to be a little closer to the fire. “No.” I don’t need to explain myself, so I won’t try.

An hour past midnight, horses come into view through the downpour. As I sit up, hopeful that he’s finally back, Cassian dismounts from a horse covered in mud. Mor follows, barely conscious, her rain slicked hair plastered to her face. She yawns as she stumbles over to the fire, and strips right there in front of everyone, her wet clothes hitting the floor with a thwack. 

I don’t miss the way Azriel quickly looks away from her. 

Cassian only chuckles as he throws a fresh pair of clothes at her. 

Once she’s changed and holding her own blanket, she settles down next to me with a grin. “Guess you guys win this time around!”

“Yeah,” the words come out of me absently, my gaze still fixed over her shoulder, trying to see past Cassian and the rest of his men as they file in. 

Azriel stands to help them light a second fire, further blocking my view. 

“He was right behind us,” Mor assures, following my gaze. 

I find myself biting my lower lip again as my gaze jumps from one male to the next. Where is he? He should be back by now! But none of the faces that slowly come into view as Azriel gets the fire going is the one I want to see. 

My lip is bleeding from how much I’ve been biting on it tonight; I move to start biting at my nail instead. He shouldn’t be out there this long! Azriel says he gets reckless, did he do something stupid? What if he’s hurt?

Mor reaches out to grab my wrist and only then do I realize how deeply I’ve been digging my knuckles into the knot that’s been steadily forming in my chest. Her eyes are gentle as she pulls my hand away. “We weren’t followed, he’s fine.”

The beast beneath my skin snaps and growls. He’s not fine! He’s alone out there in the cold and rain, in pain and I can’t shake the feeling that he needs me… but I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about it.

“He shouldn’t be alone.”

She glances over to Azriel and Cassian before looking back to me. “Trust me, he wants to be. Just give him space.”

The minutes drag on for eternity. Mor lays down next to me and drifts off almost immediately. I’m so restless I’m about to start pacing. I might have actually gotten up and done it if Azriel’s disapproving gaze didn’t land on me the moment I tried to stand back up. Bastard!

It’s probably no time at all before Midnight finally comes riding through the rain into the mouth of the cave, but it feels like eternity, as if I’d been holding my breath the whole night. The knot in my chest loosens as Rhys jumps out of the saddle and finds some scraps of cloth to dry the horse off with. 

His cloak is still drying across the fire, his clothes now sopping wet. Every move he makes leaves a puddle behind him. The strands of his dark hair have slipped free from the knot he’d tied them in, the long locks now clinging to his face. It takes everything in me not to get up and push them out of his way for him. 

He strips down to his boxers quickly, tossing his ruined clothes somewhere behind him carelessly. The glow of the fire makes the circles under his eyes darker as he snags a wineskin from one of the men. 

I watch as Cassian tries to make a joke, but Rhys just huffs at him as he pushes his hair out of his face and takes a long drink from the skin. 

I’ve waited all this time to make sure he’s ok, but now that he’s back I don’t know what to do. Azriel told me to stay away tonight, and by the looks of it, he’s following his own advice as he finally retrieves his mat and lays down near the entrance of the cave. Cassian hovers for a few minutes, trying to make conversation, but Rhys just keeps drinking and ignoring him, his gaze lost in the flames. Eventually he gives up and gets his own mat ready for bed. 

I wait, watching as Rhys finally sits down in front of the other fire, the light glistening off his damp skin. The shadows trace his tattoos like I often find myself wishing to do with my fingers. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how I’m supposed to make this better for him. But when my world fell apart, he’d come and held me, so maybe he needs that too?

I swallow the lump in my throat as I finally stand, dragging the blanket with me. 

For once, Rhys doesn’t seem to notice me, eyes still locked in the flames as he brings the skin to his lips and drinks again and again and again. 

I should be afraid of him. All the males in my life were violent drunks. The scars on my side are a testament to that. Rhys is stronger than all of them, and I have no idea what he’s like drunk. But I only feel trepidation because I don’t want to make his pain worse, not because I think he’ll hurt me. I don’t think he’s capable of that.

I take the blanket off my shoulders and drape it around his, careful of where his damp wings drape across the floor. Only then does he glance up at me, his eyes glassy. Wordlessly, his hand brushes over mine, barely holding on, just enough to give me a little tug, asking me to sit. For a moment, I just sit next to him under the shared blanket, but his skin is so cold! He’s not shaking only because he’s had enough to drink to keep him from noticing.

Damn me, and the stupid thing that lives in my chest that feels like it’s breaking from my inability to fix this. I’d thought what I was feeling might be pity at first, but now… now I can’t help but think I manifested this somehow, when I asked him all those days ago if he would show me how to be a good mate. 

I had spent most of my life wishing this kind of pain on him. I’ve gotten what I wanted and I hate every bit of it. This isn’t what  I want at all!

Slowly, unsure of myself, I twist so I can wrap my arms around his waist. At the very least, my body heat might keep him warm. He stills under my grip, body rigid. Maybe this was the wrong move, maybe Azriel was right and I should have stayed away.

“What are you doing, mate?” He whispers in my ear, voice slurring.

I tuck my head against his bare chest. “Want to hold you.”

“Why?” His hands shake as they trail down my spine. 

“You’re sad.” That’s an understatement, but I don’t know how else to put it. “I’m not very good at this comforting thing, you know? But you’ve held me when I’ve been sad so I thought, maybe, you would want that too.”

He goes quiet for a bit and I think maybe I’ve lost him to the horrors that plague his mind again, but then he tosses the wineskin to the floor and rolls us both onto our sides on the rough stone ground. The stone is uncomfortable without a mat, but he shifts so his arm is beneath my head, and glides my leg up over his hip so we’re chest to chest. I’m not sure how warm he’ll be with the fire at my back, but I hope my body heat will transfer to him well enough. 

“You didn’t have to stay up for me,” he says.

I gently trace my fingers over the swirls of ink on his chest. “I know, but I wanted to. I didn’t want you to be alone.”

He nuzzles his face against mine. “Will you stay with me?”

“For as long as you need,” I assure.

His wing comes up to cover us, but he doesn’t close his eyes, fingers drawing lazy shapes against my back. 

“You should sleep,” I try but he shakes his head.

“Not tonight.”

I wonder if he sees what he’s lost as clearly as I do in my dreams, but it feels like a bad time to ask. No need to further dredge up those awful memories. 

“You said you used to tell your mother stories,” he says, the firelight dancing over his face. “Will you tell me one?”

It is an easy rhythm to fall into, as easy as breathing. The words spill out of me, the tale weaving itself along with the tempo of the crackling wood and the pouring rain around us. I tell story after story about the nymphs and the dryads, in a world long before Hybern and Amarantha, long before war tore our people apart. I talk until the fire starts to die, and the rain becomes a dull thud against the rocks outside; until the words become as heavy as my eyes. He never says anything during my tales, but he never closes his eyes either, hands still wandering absently up my back. The gesture more soothing than he realizes, I don’t think anyone had ever held me like this. My eyes droop despite my best efforts, words starting to slur.

“You should sleep,” he says.

“Don’t want to leave you alone,” I confess, but my eyes are so, so heavy. The strain of the last few days still weighs on me. 

My vision is blurry, sleep pulling on the edge of my consciousness, so it has to be a trick of the light that I see tears in his violet eyes.

He buries his head in the crook of my neck, breath stuttering out of him, and I realize that it’s no trick. Not when I can feel the damp stain across my sleeve. He muffles a sob in my shirt, the dull thundering of the rain enough to cover the rest. My fingers move instinctively into his hair, brushing through the tangled strands., my senses once again alert and awake.

The knot in my chest aches so deeply I think it might keep me awake for days.

“I wasn’t fast enough,” he whimpers. 

Gods, how many times had I whispered that very thing into the dark, rocking myself to sleep, trying to soothe myself with all the possible ways I could have saved my parents, even when I knew it was futile? 

“There was nothing you could have done.” That’s what you’re supposed to say, right? It sounds right. Sounds like what I wanted someone to tell me when I spiraled down into the depths of my depression. 

“It should have been me,” he sobs.

I draw him tighter against me. If I had any way to draw that pain out of his chest and take it into my own I would. I’d do anything, offer any distraction, sacrifice any plan, to take that burden off my mate.

The world feels like it zeroes in to that one, particular point.

My mate.

Of all the godsdamned times for it to click into place, for him to be right, it had to be here, in this damp cave when I have no idea how to make any of this better. I’m out of my element, in more ways than one.

“You…” I’m having a hard time breathing around the knot in my chest--no, the tether in my chest, all jumbled and tangled by all the fucked up stuff between us, but a tether none the less. “You can’t think like that.”

“You don’t understand-” he growls into my throat, but I cut him off, “Yes, I do. I do understand what it feels like to have the people you love ripped from you.”

His body stills under my hands again.

“I understand the emptiness, the loneliness, how… dark and cold and fucking brutal the aftermath is because there is suddenly no one there to tell you that it’s not your fault. There’s no one to assure you that they would want you to live and not carry the weight of it on your shoulders every godsdamned day.”

He slowly tilts his head back to look at me, his face tear streaked. I move my hand out of his hair to brush some of it off his cheek. “No one can replace what you lost.”

Slowly, he leans his head into my touch. “And I’m so sorry that you’ve lost so much.”

It’s unfair that one person should have to lose so many of the people that he loves; looking at him, I can’t believe how close I was to bringing even more pain into his life. If I had succeeded… gods I would have been worse than my father!

“But I have to believe that you are still here for a reason.” He should get to have a life! Whatever that costs me, he’s more than earned it. “Even if you haven’t found that reason yet.”

Rhys leans back down against my shoulder with a sigh that makes his wings shake. “It’s so heavy,” he whispers.

My hands go back to his hair, working through the knots the rain has created. “Show me how to help you carry it?”

His wing comes back over me again, his weight now fully on me. Somehow, it feels like that helps the tether linking us together settle. The ache… soothed, just a bit. I drift my hands from his hair down his back, careful to avoid his wings, soothing over hard muscle, until his breathing stops feeling so shaky. 

“Distract me,” he whispers.

“Whatever you need, Rhys, I’m here,” and I mean it.

“Tell me another story?”

“As many as you like,” I promise. It’s the least I can do, for my mate. I shove all the fear and uncertainty the word brings to mind into a quaint little box in the back of my mind; bury it under layers of emotional damage I’ve never dealt with and refuse to let my thoughts run away with me. I will figure it out tomorrow. I will find a way to make sure I don’t become another scar on his heart. He can’t ever know what I planned to do… it would ruin him.

And I wouldn’t survive it.

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Thank you all for your patience! <3 I'm trying to get back on schedule with this!

[questionably-audhd-oracle]

Progress report on my life:

•Finished a crochet project I started last night

•Packed some things

•Did some laundry

•Finished all of lost (which I started in like the middle of last month)

•Ate two full meals

•Flossed (and brushed my teeth every time I put my retainers in)

I have been somewhat productive today

[james-spooky]

this is a test

[the-alphonze]

How do you stop thinking

[floral-hex]

woke up at 4am feeling the weight of my life crushing me, so I’ve been sitting out in my car for the last couple of hours because I just need. to. be. somewhere else.

[angelstrawbabie420]

u ever seriously wonder if ur gonna make it thru the year

[spacespore]

HI TUMBLRR it’s me

[acebytaemin]

it’s 1.18 am and i can’t sleep bc there’s a thunderstorm and i’m scared of them like a big loser so. don’t hold me accountable for my thoughts and feelings but

[that-was-anticlimactic]

one of the worst feelings ever is wanting to write but your hands hurt too much or the words just don’t want to work so you just sit there staring at a half finished doc with tears in your eyes bc you want to write and you need to write but everything is telling you that you can’t

[calico-kiwi]

i have been learning taekwondo for ALMOST A YEAR ALREADY so how come it wasn’t until LITERALLY TODAY it dawned on me I can now use my newly acquired fighting knowledge to WRITE COOL AND BETTER FIGHT SCENES FOR MARIBAT OH MY GOOOODDDD IVE LITERALLY BEEN TOO AFRAID TO REALLY WRITE FIGHT SCENES BUT THIS IS LIKE SO PERFECT

anyways catch me daydreaming abt writing maribat stuff again, hopefully we can turn the daydreaming into daydoing (or maybe nightdoing)

[cuteniaarts]

Greyscale Midori sketch because I’m low-key artblocked

[barley-st-band]

anyone else getting a little tired of the unending horror

[gingermeadows]

i bought beads today and i dont know how to describe it but i am having so much fun just poking around in my lil buckets of beads i feel like a little kid again and i think the only way i could feel even happier would be if i was playing with beads with my beautiful friends <3

[lightblueminecraftorchid]

I’ve noticed something interesting and so I’m going to write it down to reference later.

Roommate is driving to parents’ house w borrowed kayak; needs help holding kayak in place while they strap it onto their car.

They have to leave ASAP; their family is expecting them by a certain time

Raining very hard outside. Not good for sensory.

Hold kayak in place. Get soaking wet. Can’t move or leave or stim bc kayak will fall. Feel overstimulated.

Finish holding kayak. Watch roommate finish strapping it-

Immediately feel like somebody shoved me underwater. Everything feels muted and fuzzy. My body awareness turns distant.

I am able to recognize this as dissociation and try to ground myself. It kinda works. I can at least move and think somewhat.

Get inside, change into dry clothes.

Dissociation ramps up quickly. Struggle to hold conversation w/ roommate. They go to make a phone call. Body feels distant and heavy. Moving my eyes feels like work; I end up staring at a door handle for multiple minutes, causing optical illusions exacerbated by visual snow.

Clock back in at some point; I think we had a conversation about wisdom teeth before they left.

Body is back and operational. I’m still off-balance from how quickly that happened.

[drowninginthoughts27]

.