#can’t believe i gave keyleth a ‘when will my husband return from the war’ moment

[waltwhitmansbeard]

my fair lady: chapter twenty-nine

we are so close to the end y'all! catch up here. still inspired by @romeoandjulietyouwish!

Vax counts each breath, paces them against the distant, hollow drip echoing throughout the empty dungeons. For each one, he thanks the Raven Queen, and asks for another. He does not want to take more time than the goddess of death has seen fit to grant him, but if he could just stay long enough to see his wife one last time, to feel her heart beat beneath his palm, to look her in the eye and apologize and thank her and say goodbye. He does not wish to fight death, but each breath is a gift, and he will not take a single one for granted.

He doesn't know how long he has been kept down in these holding cells, each smaller than his little bedroom back home with his sister. (Vex'ahlia; he promised her he would return.) There is no sunlight here, no way of naturally tracking time, except, he supposes, that damned drip, the one that is driving him mad. He sits on the floor, rank and damp, with his knees up to his chest, his head back against the stone. It is his fault he is here, his fault that he might die before he can see his wife and sister again; if he had kept calm, kept his mouth shut, he could possibly be up with her right now, kissing away her tears, telling her all the final things he needs her to know before he is gone.

(How very perfect she is, in all her imperfections. How he has had so little to believe in throughout his life, so little to rely upon, and yet he is more confident in her ability to lead her people than he is in the sun's daily path across the sky. How the way her nose wrinkles when she laughs is his favorite thing about her, on an endless list of favorite things. How he fell in love with her one spring day when she was in her garden, up to her elbows in soil, her tongue caught between her teeth as she concentrated on pruning a rhododendron, the sun flickering in her hair like fire. How he knows she will find love again. How he needs her to. How grateful he is that she has others in her life to love her, when he is no longer able to do so.)

The steel bolt to his dark hole clangs, and low torchlight floods the room. Vax blinks at the silhouette that has appeared in the doorway there, and after a moment's confusion, he scrambles to his feet and lowers into a deep bow. "Your Majesty."

The sovereign takes the torch from the guard who had opened the door and steps inside. His expression is enigmatic, and Vax wonders if his life won't be taken by him before the Raven Queen can come for it. "I have spoken with my daughter." Vax doesn't say anything. "It seems she is...quite fond of you." Again, he stays silent. "She has instructed me to release you."

"She is...well, Your Majesty?" Vax tries to keep the quiet desperation out of his voice.

"She has seen better days." Vax sees the worry dancing around his eyes. "When I was shown the evidence of the attack in her chambers...and then for her to be missing..." He runs a tired hand over his face, and for the first time, Vax truly considers that his sovereign is just a man. "Despite my...distaste for what has transpired between you and my daughter, I cannot deny that I owe you my very life for keeping her alive."

"She acquitted herself quite well in the struggle," Vax replies with a soft smile. "Her power is formidable." He pauses. "I think perhaps you do not need to worry for her quite as much as you do."

The sovereign huffs out a breath of a laugh. "That is the thing about being a father, Vax'ildan: the worry never ends." He sighs. "I will be letting you go, and then we will be discussing what happens from there. But first, I must make something quite plain to you, Vax'ildan." The sovereign enters the room further, bringing the torch close to Vax's face. The heat makes beads of sweat prickle along his hairline. "If you hurt her, if I get a moment's suspicion that your...intentions with her have been anything less than honorable, you will die a villain's death. Am I clear?"

Vax doesn't even blink. (There is no point in telling him that there is no we will, that he has no need to worry for the future, that soon, he will stop being the sovereign’s problem.) "Your Majesty, I have traded my very life for hers, and it is an exchange I would make again and again without hesitation."

The sovereign's eyes narrow, unsure if Vax is being literal or not. "Very well. She is resting in a suite in the guest wing. You may go to her now." He turns to leave the dank little cell, then stops, turns, and says, "You know, my father did not wish for me to wed Keyleth's mother." And with that, he sweeps out of the cell, and Vax is once again alone.

.

Keyleth stares up at the ceiling with a huff. Night has fallen, and still she lies alone, in chambers that are not hers. It has been several hours since her confrontation with her father; why hasn’t Vax been released yet? She is bone-tired, afflicted still by whatever strange magic struck her last night, and Pike has advised her to rest—all she has been doing is resting, she is so very tired of resting—but how is she meant to sleep when her husband’s fate is unknown?

Groaning in frustration, she swings her legs off of the bed and pads over to the window, where she watches the low moon beginning its crest through the inky blue sky. Her body is sore, as though she is a dishcloth that has been wrung out and hung to dry, but lying down feels too passive. She is tired and agitated and worried and angry and she just wants her husband.

She leans against the window, the cool glass soothing against her cheek, and her eyes slide closed. She can feel herself starting to drift off when a loud creak from behind startles her. She whips around to see the door to the room cracked open, a familiar face hesitantly peering inside.

“Vax!” She hurls herself across the room, throwing her arms around his neck with a gasp of relief as he just enters the chamber.

He catches her with a small laugh, pulling her in close. “You should be in bed.” He pulls away, putting his hands on either side of her face to inspect her. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” she insists, and she is, now that he is here and alive. “What of you? Your leg—you were hurt—“

She looks down to where she remembers seeing cracked, blackened flesh, but he has changed clothes since last night, so there is no more gaping hole in his trousers. He shakes his leg like a dog. "Completely fine. I've just been to see Mistress Pike; she finished your incredible work."

"And my father? Have you...did he speak with you?"

Vax takes her by the hand and pulls her over to her little sofa. "We spoke, yes. He came to release me personally." Keyleth worries her lip between her teeth. "We...have come to something of an understanding."

Keyleth waits for elaboration, but none comes. She tips her head onto his shoulder. "I am glad you are here with me. I know my father is still not pleased with what we've done, and it will take time for us to earn his trust again. But we have time now, and I promise, he will grow to love you as I have."

Vax doesn't answer, merely wraps his arms around her and tips his head atop hers. Now that he is here and she is enveloped in his embrace, his scent, she is once again reminded of her profound fatigue. She plays gently with the fingers of one of his hands. "Would you mind terribly if we went to bed? I'm still trying to sleep off last night's terrors."

There's a brief hesitation, and then Vax kisses her atop her head and murmurs, "Of course." He stands, pulling her up with him. He smiles teasingly. "Now I do hope this is not an attempt to seduce me, my beautiful wife. I will not be beguiled into distracting you from sleep."

She kisses him, a long, languorous kiss that loosens her body all the way down to her toes. "I shall try to behave myself," she quips back. Then she tugs him toward the bed, toward sleep, toward peace.

.

Vax is awake. He has been since Keyleth laid him down, curled up atop his chest like a cat, and fell asleep. He, too, is exhausted, can feel his eyelids yearning to close, but how is he meant to sleep when each passing moment brings him closer to his last? How is he meant to close his eyes and miss his final minutes with her, this woman who has so sensationally changed his life?

He knows he should have told her. He had the opportunity, the responsibility to let her know what was coming for her, but it is against his every instinct to do the thing that brings her pain. He should be the one to dry her tears, to remind her that she was a force of nature before him and she will be once he is gone, to give her a final kiss that contains within it all of the promises he had ever hoped to keep for her.

Instead, he lays here, in the still of night, stroking her hair and watching the dance of her eyes behind their lids. He wonders what she dreams of, if she is haunted by the ghosts of last night's attack or if she has imagined for herself a brighter day, one in which they are together and the shadows of this world cannot touch her joy.

He is a selfish man, and he has stolen from her her final moments with her husband in order to watch her sleep, to let the last image of her in his mind be one of peace, of quiet, of her and him and the moon's descent toward the horizon. He knows he will have to answer for his crimes once he belongs to the Raven Queen, and he will accept his punishment gladly, for there is nowhere on this realm of mortality he would rather take his final breaths than here, in this bed, with this woman, on this late summer's night.