You are love
Paring: Tyril x f! elf (odelia)
book: blades of light and shadows
word count: 2k
rating: t
category: hurt and comfort
summary: Tyril read a well loved book of poetry and finds tresures.
warnings: a heavy touch of blasphemy, emotional distress
Tags: @choicesficwriterscreations
They laid together, her finger tapping out the rhythm of his heart onto his chest as he caught his breath. She looked down at him, studying the sharp lines of his face.
He was like a painting. She decided not for the first time.
“You’re staring.” he said not for the last time, she intends to make him say that sentence at least once everyday for the rest of their lives. “You’re very beautiful.” she said honestly. He looked at her, a wide smile spreading across his face.
She kissed the dimple on his cheek before planting another to his lips. “I cannot wait to show you Undermount as it should be.” He admits “What will we do first?” she asks
“Anything you desire.” he swears “Now, that’s a dangerous proposal, Ty.” she said with a grin. Her lover smiled, holding her tight. “I’d be happy if I could stare at you all day,” she says
“Horribly unproductive.” He countered with a laugh, his on her hip, thumb stroking a mark he left. “We've earned it. Haven’t we?” She questioned. “You sure you want to waste your wish on being lazy?” he asked “Love, there is nothing else I could want more.”
“When I wake up every morning, there would be no better sight than you by my side.” She said, mimicking his accent a little too well. “You are love,” She said. And he never understood what she meant.
Tyril looked to Odelia as she bit her nail, muttering to herself as she paced back and forth, a letter in her hand, her hair only loosely contained by her hairstick.
“A’mael?” he calls from the doorway. She paused and looked at him, a smile finding its way to her lips. “Oh! Tyril, come in, what do you need?” she asked. “I was hoping to spend the night…” he said with a half smile he hoped showed his intent. “of course.” she said “are you busy?” he asked “never for you,” she replied. “Just writing.” she said “you seem to be doing a lot of it.” He said, She hums in agreement.
“Would you mind if I finished my letter?” she asked “Not at all, A’mael, i’ll read as you finish up.” he said, taking off his boots and armor, letting his hair loose before sitting on the bed.
He picked up a well lived book she had on her nightstand, put on his reading spectacles and started to read.
A book of poetry from the great Elven poets or so it claimed, one he hadn't read himself.
He read one and realized he had read this poem before, but a line was edited.
“We are the gods” stuck out as the line they removed. Upon further reading he found poems from the greats he’s never seen, and poems he had but never with these words.
At first he thought it was a fake, made to mock him and his people and their gods, then he saw the marking, it was by his people, and just as it was made, it was destroyed by his people too.
He realized that this book must be from the time before the great war.
The more he read the more he realized how much this has shaped her view of her people. Some pages were more loved then the others, Some lines she adopted as her own and between the pages were notes, her thoughts of poetry, her thoughts on elves, one note in particular caught his eye, between a poem by Mazil Starfury she wrote the most.
Wondering what a ball would be like, wondering if she has a name, wondering what it must be like to be a starfury ‘with history in their name, their family memories never too hard to find should anyone of them forget or be forgotten all you would need is to read and find who they were.’
“I’m beginning to think you’re an admirer.” He said out loud. “Of you? Love, I'd hope by now you’d already know that.” she replied “of my family.” he said
“of course, your father and Adrina have been nothing but kind.” she replied as she wrote her letter. “Oh! Mazil Starfury! Well, I wouldn’t say I was specifically looking for information on your family, yours just happens to be one that always came up.” she admits with a wave of her hand. “That and the other great houses, of course, but I always loved Mazil’s work so I always try to read it if I find it.” Tyril smiled down at the paper, the end of her page, scribbled out and barely visible was her signature. ‘Odelia Starfury’
Of course he knew that it was nothing more than a show of how much she wished to belong, how she wished to know her history, to have one to begin with, and if his family is the oldest she knew of, of course she’d use it to visualize her ambitions. But it still made him smile, nonetheless. his heart froze briefly in his chest and then a thrill of heat spread through.
“What’s got you smiling like that?” she wondered, taking her time to take off her shoes laying them next to the bed in a way she can slip into them quickly if need be. “It’s nice to read your thoughts alongside the poems.” he admits with a grin.
she crawled onto the bed and laid down next to him, resting her head on his shoulder as he read. “You look like your father.” she says, tapping his spectacles. “Thank you?” he replied, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
“Where did you find this book?” he asks “A traveling merchant, costed me seven gold because ‘it was so rare’ and how I, as an elf, should know the value of such a book.” she says with a sigh. “It is rare.” he said “really?” she asks “i’ve never read this version, and it has poems i’ve never seen from well known authors, Lost poems, here in my hands.” he says in awe.
She grins a little, and for a moment it’s just as bright as it always used to be. She practically beamed with pride as she said; “My favorite poem is on page sixty-three.”
He turned the pages until he got to sixty-three and passed the book to her. “Read it to me?” He asks, offering her his spectacles.
She takes the book in her hands, only half looking at the page as she starts.
“We all look at the stars up above to guide us through, trials that seem to never end and worries that refuse to let you get a moment’s peace. But I needn't look that far to find my guiding light, my peace is not found on holy ground, but every word between us is prayer just the same.The lovers Bakshi and Ittar were love, and as they were, so are we. And to be love is to be the purest, fullest form of affection, no force, by god or man can part what's now one.”
She spoke the words as if they were precious, only pausing briefly before continuing onto the next lines.
He understood why he had not heard of these poems, they were all likely burned.
“No journey shall we wander, be that across the seven realms or to the stars above will severe the feelings, for love cannot be halved, and no matter the journey or how long we must wait we will become love once more. We will be stars above, and your star shall be mine, and mine shall be yours.” She said, running her fingers through his hair as she did. “It’s very romantic, isn’t it?”
“Very,” he agreed. “I’ve always wanted to be loved like that, so deeply that someone so religious is willing to forsake their gods,” she says, “of course not very healthy, and I don’t wish for you to lose your gods, I just thought it was romantic.” She says He nods slowly, a smile forming on his lips.
She continued the poem, twirling his hair between her fingers as she did. There was a sense of ease as she read that she hadn’t shown since… the forest, a sense of affection that felt far away for a long while, a dreamy tone overtook her, and a horribly fond expression fell upon her face.
He’d have her read to him a million books if it kept her in this moment, away from the troubles she kept to herself.
“Bare in the truth of all that we are, in the light of candles that moments from having nothing left to burn I see you, and all that you are, you are love, and all that it encapsulates, all that is love and all that is good, is you.”
“Let the world toss gold into fountains and beg the dying for fortune, I needn’t go to such lengths to have everything. In the stillness of night I found the only truth that matters, you are love, you are truth, you are god.” she finished looking at him with a smile. “Is that why you say I’m love?” he asked, she smiled before pressing a kiss to his chest.
“You are love too.” he said with a yawn. “You look too tired for much fun, love.” she said, reaching to take his reading spectacles from his hands, she leaned over him as she put them of the nightstand and as she did, he reached and pulled her hair stick from her hair.
He remembers this one, simply and wooden, Mal had gotten it for her at market and she treated it like it was made of gold.
“is this a first gift a man has given you?” he asked “No, but he wasn’t ashamed that it was for me! he gave put it in my hair in front of everyone!” she said as if the man preformed a miracle.
he arched his brows at her and she laughed at his expression. “I suppose no one is ashamed to be taken by you, but….. everyone I’ve ever known to love me romantically have been ashamed to do so.” She admits quietly “Then they are fools, and will no doubt regret it for the rest of their lives.” She looked at him and smiled, something unreadable in her eyes.
“Will you stay?” she asked “I didn’t plan on leaving.” he said “I thought you might be disappointed because this wasn’t how you wanted the night to go.” she said delicately. “There is nothing more that I want than mundane nights with you.” he promised.
He held her in his arms as she fell asleep, and soon her breathing slowed and she became at ease.
Before Tyril fell too deeply he whispered a promise into the woman’s hair, “One day, this will all be a nightmare, A’mael.” she stirred, squeezing him before she whispered, barely audible against his chest, a response unheard by Tyril himself
“I worry that… instead of a nightmare it becomes a part of me, so immeshed that you can’t have one without the other. So tangled you can’t find where it begins and where I stop- that you won’t be able to tell which of us is parasitic.”
Her lover held her tighter, pressing a kiss to her forehead, and without but adieu, sleep claimed the lovers, and there they laid, wrapped in each other arms close as close could be, and for the first time in a long time nothing could disturb the hero's sleep.
