#sehrai ilsa

[cathcacen]

Oh actions of mine

In which Anarei inadvertantly causes Sehrai to break up with big brother Strahan.

Real talk tho’ she’s probably sick to death of having Lear as her single solitary patient. XD

It was supposed to be nothing more than a little joke – well, more than a little joke. She’d told a harmless white lie about her big brother planning a date for his current paramour, and said paramour had spent some hours getting dressed and making herself pretty.

Only to find that there was, in fact, no date planned.

Elbow deep in cold cream and covered in the blood of his patient, Strahan had taken in the sight of his paramour with eyes wide open. Beneath a fur-lined, dusty pink dress with flowing sleeves, Sehrai’s chestnut skin was scrubbed to a smooth, supple perfection. She’d draped a rust-coloured shawl about her shoulders, and her hair had been put up into an elegant knot, antique gold pins holding back the glossy waves.

Only an idiot like Strahan would tell her to go home.

It’s a week later, and Sehrai has shown no sign of wanting to reconcile. She walks in on her brother grinding herbs together in a mortar, brows furrowed, knuckles pale. He’s been in a bad mood since the fight, and she’s more than feeling the guilt.

“What’re you making?” She ambles up to him and sits down on the table, a little mortified and a little embarrassed.

“Oh, Rei.” He grunts, and the pestle makes a bell-like clink inside the mortar. “It’s a tonic for anxiety. Can’t sleep.”

“Sehrai still not speaking to you?” She tries to bite back the nervousness in her voice, but if she’s honest with herself, she hasn’t been sleeping all that well herself. “I’ll go talk to her. I really didn’t mean for it to go this far.”

That, and she hadn’t expected him to blow off his paramour for work. Again.

Strahan lets out a tired sigh. “It’s not entirely your fault.” He looks up at her, and the frown that creases his brow is one suggesting irritation. “She’s been hinting at wanting more of my time for months now, but I can’t exactly leave the infirmary in the apprentices’ hands.”

“Da can handle it, you know. There isn’t too much to do at the frontlines just yet.” She twiddles her thumbs. “And I can, too. I’ve had some practice this past year.”

For the first time in a week, Strahan smiles. “What, sewing gut boy back together?”

Her stomach turns. “Lear. His name is Lear.”

“Whatever.” The herbs in the mortar foam and sizzle as Strahan tips in some liquid potions. She watches as he works, momentarily mesmerised by the way he stirs and swirls in turn. “I know you’re eager for more than just Lear as a patient, but maybe just ask me next time instead of trying to trick me into leaving you a patient with half his face burned off.”

“How’s that man doing, by the way?”

“Fine. I managed to get most of the skin back on after Sehrai left.” The corner of Strahan’s lip twitches. “He almost pissed himself laughing. You Northerners are so disgustingly cavalier about appearance-altering injuries.”

She can’t help but smile. “We try. Seriously, though.” A sigh escapes her; she reaches out to take her brother’s forearm, forcing him to look up at her. “Give me more responsibilities here. Lear’s well enough now that he can be left alone, and I need to occupy myself with some actual work before I go mad.”

Strahan studies her face for a brief moment, and she tries her best to appear reassuring. It’s been three months or so since her father had assigned her to Lear, and she’d spent nearly every waking hour by his bed. When she isn’t watching his chest to assure herself he’s still alive, she’s poring through books on mana injuries and potion-brewing, all in an attempt to find a way to help him heal faster.

She’s still trying to bury her feelings for him.

“Fine.” Strahan makes a face as he starts to bottle his tonic. “Don’t get too caught up, though.”

“Hm?”

He barely smiles. “Sehrai left me because I couldn’t make enough time for her. I’d rather not have that happen to you, with Lear.”

She shrugs a shoulder, trying for nonchalance, then hops off her perch. “We’re just friends.” It’s hard to keep the glumness from her voice, and she’s tired of lying. “Anyway, he doesn’t like me that way, so you don’t have to worry.”

“Sure.”

“Get some sleep.” She leans into his side and presses her cheek into his shoulder. “You look terrible. And… I’m sorry. About Sehrai.”

“I forgive you.” Strahan bends a little, pressing his lips to her forehead. He’s sweet with his sisters and vindictive with everyone else. “Cover for me, here?”

A lump forms in her throat, and she thinks it has to do with the omnipresent awareness that she really doesn’t deserve his forgiveness. Still, if he’s ready to share the workload, she’s ready to take some of the weight off his shoulders. “Thought you’d never ask.”

[cathcacen]

One date/Six beds/Maika

Three mini drabbles because smallish sweet thoughts: Learei’s first date, the one time Learei encounter too many beds, and Strahan’s daughter.

She doesn’t know what time it is, but she’s comfortable and happy. In the streets behind her, the pubs are still open, buzzing with activity, and she can hear occasional bursts of cheering and whooping – most likely some brave soul taking on a bong or a row of shots. The world stops – the war takes a back seat, and the people take what pleasure they can on New Year’s Day.

They’re sitting at the pier, legs dangling over the ice-cold January water, nursing a bottle of red between them. Earlier, he’d brought her to a restaurant nearby, whose owner he’d paid to keep the establishment open just long enough for them to have a nice meal. Candles, vintage wine, generic classical music, and a single accented waiter – the whole deal.

It was a good date.

She leans into him, nuzzling her head in under his jaw even as he wraps an arm about her shoulder. It feels different, but good – she’s used to his touch, having served as his crutch throughout his time in the hospital, but this new type of intimacy makes her heart race. “Thanks for dinner.”

“I did promise to take your breath away.” He drops his cheek onto the top of her head briefly. “As much as I hate for the night to end, though, I think we should head back in soon. Where are you staying?”

“The Westin.” She lifts her head and turns to him, biting her lip. “Where are you staying?”

“At the inn down the street. They’ve got nicer suites.” He smiles at her as he gets to his feet, then holds out his hand to her.

She drains the last of their wine, then grabs onto his hand and clambers to her feet. “Show me.”

He raises a brow at her.

“I mean it.” She leans over, gently pressing her lips to his, testing the waters. It’s been years since her last, and she’s not sure she’s doing it right, but the thing she has with Sagen has burned too long to be ignored. She’s tired of it – she wants to see what it would be like. If we’re only going to have one date, we might as well make the best of it. “Show me.”

She remembers that feeling of confusion the next time he’d shown up at her base. It was supposed to be a one-time date, a thank you dinner for her help in therapy. But he’d persisted, and she couldn’t refuse.

So she doesn’t.

Throughout the next few months, they carry on against her better judgment. They visit faraway places and exotic lands, never staying longer than three days at a time.

They’ve stopped booking separate accommodations.

One weekend, he books them a cabin in the woods, surrounded by beautiful pines and a backdrop of majestic mountains. She’s just heading into the bedroom to drop off her duffel bag when she’s met with an unexpected sight.

He runs into her standing at the door when he joins her, and she lets out a grunt of surprise. “Oof. Are we expecting company that I don’t know of?”

He glances up, and a soft ‘oh’ alerts her that he’s realised what she means.

Instead of the single double bed she’s grown accustomed to in their numerous rentals, there are three bunk beds to accommodate six. “Huh. They must’ve accidentally checked us into the family cabin.”

“So you mean, somewhere out there in this vast resort...” She bites back a smile.

“There’s probably a very angry mom and dad with four screaming kids, yes.”

She tosses her duffel onto the bed by the window before seating herself on the thick mattress, bouncing lightly. “I guess we can each have our own bed, then.” She makes sure to grin.

“Aww, Naveau.” He folds his arms, his own expression betraying amusement. “I thought you liked cuddling.”

She reaches out, arms akimbo, and he tackles her into the bed. “Fine,” She admits. “I like cuddling.”

Sehrai is pregnant. He can’t comprehend why it bothers him so much that she doesn’t want the baby.

She doesn’t want him, neither.

The ring he’d given her sits abandoned on their bedside table. He paces the room, pinching at the bridge of his nose. They’d been dating all of a year, and had even moved in together some months before. Who does that if they aren’t thinking of a future together?

She doesn’t want him. He doesn’t like it, but he respects her decision.

But there’s a baby – there’s a life, growing inside of her. It’s his blood. His flesh. His baby. He grits his teeth. Our baby.

He knows it’s not fair to corner her into having the baby when she doesn’t want to, but he also needs her to know what it means to him. When she casually mentions over dinner one night that she’s moving out, he helps her to pack, and even moves her boxes for her. He keeps things civil – friendly, even.

Before she steps out the door, he asks to meet again to discuss the situation. She gives him a pitying sort of smile, but agrees to hold off the abortion until then.

He convinces her. He agrees to pay off every cent of her student debt and furnishes her with a new home and car upstate. He funds her new business. By the time he’s finished paying for the life of his child, he’s spent at least half of his life’s earnings.

He’d do it again in a heartbeat.

He’s in the room when Sehrai has the baby. It’s a complication-free birth, and their daughter comes screaming into the world – a dirty, bloody, vernix-covered creature with his nose and a thin patch of dark hair. He falls in love instantly, and as the nurses hand her to him, he can’t help but laugh and cry at the same time. When he finally tears his gaze from his daughter, he realises Sehrai is watching them, eyes wide and slightly stunned.

“I didn’t think I’d feel this way,” She whispers. “I made a mistake.”

He allows her to hold their daughter. It’s the least he can do.

“I made a mistake, Hans.” There’s wonder in Sehrai’s voice.

“So did I.” He strokes the infant’s forehead gently where she lies, slumbering peacefully against her mother’s chest. “I thought I loved you.”

Sehrai’s eyes say it all. She starts to frown, and he hushes her.

She shivers as he leans forward, and stiffens when his lips meet her temple for a light kiss. The mother of his daughter deserves his respect. “I will let you see her on weekends if you want. But she is mine, and if you try to fight me, I will see you at court.”

He allows Sehrai her time with the baby. They stay together like that for some hours, and eventually agree on a name together. Maika.

When Sehrai consents to release his daughter, he holds the tiny bundle to his chest and watches her sleep. There’s a deep-seated guilt inside of him that begs to be addressed, but he hardens his resolve. I’m sorry, my darling. Your mother has no place in our lives. He bends, pressing a tender kiss to her cheek. But I promise you’ll never want for family. I’ll love you enough to make up for this. I promise.

They never hear from Sehrai again. He regrets none of it.

[cathcacen]

Ailey, Sehrai, Shanna. Original dollmaker here.