#little off-the-cuff semi-fluffy thing XD

[blackjackkent]

Drabble dedicated to @rhysintherain (who suggested this headcanon) and @astreamofstars (who enthusiastically endorsed it when it was brought up weeks ago). XD

-----

Rakha watches Aylin and Isobel walk away, disappearing off into one of the Towers' many side rooms. Her thoughts are troubled, scattered. The battles here are won, but too much lies ahead...

"So we are to have the daughter of a goddess and her pet cleric for guests," Minthara says dryly. "Praise be. The honors heaped upon us never cease."

Rakha grunts. "They may have something useful to say," she says curtly. "We should hear it." Never mind that as long as Isobel is in camp, some part of Rakha's brain will always be growling with the dark urge to tear her apart...

She sighs and begins to trudge back towards the throne room.

Wyll smiles slightly, falling into step with her. "They're sweet together, though, aren't they?" he murmurs. "Nice to see something happy after... well... all of this."

"Yes," Rakha agrees quietly.

"Chk," says Lae'zel from Rakha's other side. Her eyes are hooded over with weariness and dark thoughts. "Selune's daughter and Ketheric's. A difficult match at best."

"Doesn't seem to have stopped them," Wyll says. "Hells - not even Isobel's death did." His smile fades. "I wonder what happened to her. A century past, right? It must have been around the time the curse rolled in."

"She died by violence," Rakha mutters. "The dog said that she--" She stops both in words and motion, coming to a halt in the middle of the corridor. Her head tips to one side and her gaze goes distant for a moment.

"What?" Wyll asks, looking at her with a flicker of concern. "What is it?"

Rakha doesn't answer, but breaks into a sudden jog towards the stairs.

-----

Ketheric's bedroom, it seems, has been relatively untouched by the fighting. There is no blood here, no fallen bodies. And the undead dog still paces the floor, her nails clicking rhythmically against the wooden planks.

"Squire," Rakha says quietly.

She no longer has a potion to speak with the dog, but it is clear that Squire recognizes her all the same. For a brief moment, the dog tenses, all its muscles visibly rippling - then relaxes as she sniffs the air and registers Rakha's scent. But she does not stop her pacing, patrolling the edge of the room with compulsive, anxious energy.

She guards her master's home. She does not know that he is dead, Rakha thinks with the flicker of a frown. She looks down at the door she's just opened, sees a chunk torn out of its inner wood. The dog tried to break free, to come fight at Ketheric's side, and failed. So now she waits here for him to come back, attentive, unceasing. Loyal.

Rakha thinks for a moment, then crouches down so her eyes are at the dog's height. "Squire," she says again, her voice unusually soft. It is easier to talk to animals that people, she has found. "It is over. He's gone."

No doubt, without the potion, the words mean nothing - and yet the steady rhythm of Squire's steps comes to an abrupt halt. The dog goes very still, turning to stare at Rakha with beady, intent eyes. A low, mournful whine sounds in her throat.

"Come with me," Rakha says. "Isobel is downstairs."

The whine cuts off into an upturned yelp like a question. The dog's ears go back. Her tail gives a cautious wag. She knows that name. Isobel.

"Come with me," Rakha repeats. Cautiously, she extends her hand the way Wyll taught her to do with Scratch, knuckles towards the creature's nose. For a long moment, neither of them moves.

Then Squire steps forward carefully and rests the side of her muzzle against Rakha's hand. And Rakha inexplicably feels a little of her own tension ease as she gently scratches under the dog's chin.

-----

Aylin has Isobel up against a wall when Rakha finds them again, though thankfully they're both still clothed. Rakha does, however, have to wait patiently for almost a minute before they break from a kiss to gasp for air.

"Aylin--" Isobel says breathlessly, nudging without much conviction at Aylin's shoulder. "We have-- company again..."

Aylin glances with utter disinterest over her shoulder at Rakha. "Did I not tell you," she says coolly, "that Dame Aylin and her mate had business that did not concern you?"

Rakha looks back at her, equally dispassionately. "I will be gone in a moment," she answers. "I have something for her." She jerks her head to indicate Isobel.

"Aylin, please," Isobel murmurs, stroking Aylin's jaw with her fingertips. "We have time now. We have time..." She disentangles herself from the aasimar's embrace, straightening her robe sheepishly, and gives Rakha a questioning look. "What is it?"

Rakha doesn't have time to answer. Hearing Isobel's voice, Squire blows past her at a full run, almost knocking Rakha off her feet in the process. The undead dog barrels towards Isobel, every muscle strained almost to snapping, and leaps up to plant her forelegs on the cleric's shoulders.

"Oof!" Isobel cries, almost toppling off balance. Aylin catches her with a hand at the small of her back and stares at the dog in abject surprise.

It takes Isobel a moment to figure out what's happening. Her pet, after all, once had fur and eyes that were not glassy and blank. But the eagerness of the greeting, the bony tail wagging like a whip, the low bark of excitement - Rakha can see the pieces clicking into place.

"Moonmaiden's mercy," Isobel whispers, sinking to her knees, placing both her hands on the dog's face. "Squire?"

Squire yips excitedly. All traces of the hardened guard dog seem gone for the moment. She bounces up and down, licking excitedly at Isobel's face with her dry tongue, her whole body wriggling with joy.

"Gods above... I thought you were dead too..." Tears fill Isobel's eyes and she throws her arms around Squire, hugging the squirming muscle-and-bone creature with all her strength.

Aylin stands next to her, resting a hand on her shoulder. Her eyes have remained fixed on Rakha, but her gaze softens slightly. "You do my Isobel a kindness," she says gruffly. "It will not be forgotten."

Rakha shrugs. As a gift, it seems a pale comparison to the compulsive thoughts of death she has harbored towards Isobel and Aylin both. It seemed natural rather than generous; she deserves no credit for it.

But she does smile, just a little, to see the way the dog's tail wags, reunited at last with the lost girl she died to protect.