Frost-filtered moonlight fought softly against the dying ember glow of the fire, casting the room in a dual haze of warmth and cold. The fire crackled quietly, the only sound in the sleeping world, all else blotted out by a layer of snow. Even the slow breathing of the forest queen seemed to blur away into the silence, as she rested her tear-stained cheek on Thala's breast, fast asleep.
Her curls tickled Thala's nose as she kissed her forehead, and she smelled of wet earth and green leaves and shaded ferns.
She held her closer, wrapping her arm tighter around Delilah's slight frame and drawing her in as if to shield her from the cold, as if she herself wasn't the one freezing in the winter air. Delilah felt so delicate in her arms. So soft and warm and somehow small. Even knowing the power of her voice and the force of her presence, the strength that hid behind her emerald eyes in the form of overgrowth and creation, right now, she still felt small. And she felt precious, like weightless jewels draped over Thala's body, a fine thing she had no right in handling, no right in feeling called to protect.
Thala looked at Delilah's sleeping face, still flushed from crying, faint shadows beneath her eyes from the busy days they had spent together. Oh, so many thoughts flooded her mind when looking upon that face. She wanted to spend every day with her, tending to the city, busy and lively and exciting, watching her play the court like a hand of cards, pride blooming in her chest. She cherished the sideways glances from Delilah during meetings, just as she cherished the smiles so bright they felt like sun on her skin. Looking at her, Thala felt the white hot storm that lived in her chest quiet just enough to let her breathe- feeling at peace in a way she never thought she would again. She felt like herself, such a foreign thing lately, but Delilah was a beacon in the night, warm and grounding and so incredibly real. Thala was already excited to wake up to her the next morning, and absolutely, overwhelmingly terrified.
She had sworn, at some point between home and Aegwin, hungry and cold and burned and bloody, that she wouldn’t let herself be destroyed.
She would not lose herself to grief.
She would not give anything the power to shatter her.
Yet here she was, in the embrace of her downfall.
When Thala first met Delilah, she couldn't have had any idea what she would do to her. She was beautiful, yes, but no more so than any beautiful person. And she was charming, her voice like a stream and her laugh like music, but no more than other charming people. No, how could she have known? When they kissed in the garden and a flame sparked inside Thala that had been dormant for so long she'd forgotten it was there, she still hadn't. She wasn't sure when she realized, but it was too late now, she was enraptured, ensnared, defeated.
And now that Delilah knew it, there was no getting away.
Thala had loved plenty of people in her life. But it had never been like this. The ones she loved before- in that life that felt like another person's dream- that was something all its own. Those people were a part of her that would never be replaced, like trees that grew together for so long they became one in the same, indistinguishable until they were felled. She had been so childishly foolish, so reckless to let so many others hold so much of her heart, but she had given it all without trepidation, without fear.
This love though burned at her like a wildfire. She fought it, she tried to keep a distance, to not stare at the enthralling blaze, but the smoke filled her lungs and she fell dizzy into flames that consumed her.
How terrible, how horrible, to be reborn in another person's arms, to come alive at the sight of their eyes. What a grand surrender, what a quiet death. What a fool she was, to tie herself again to something as fragile as a life.
