It was becoming something of an unnerving trend, Asher thought, that he kept seeing women who eerily resembled those he’d lost. While Mira may have ended up truly being Mira, though, there was little possibility of fate repeating itself. There was no chance that the woman who looked just like an older Gwyn, who, gods, who carried herself so similarly to the girl he’d lost, it just couldn’t actually be her. What a cruel jape that would be, if she somehow was in the same city and he hadn’t known. No, the gods surely were not that cruel. Besides - Asher saw Gwyn everywhere, in everything, the shade of his lost love a constant companion. That’s all this was; he was once again seeing similarities where there were none because he so desperately wished there were.
It was yet another cruel twist of fate that the mysterious woman was from the North. Already uncomfortable enough at the celebration following the royal wedding, seeing the ghost from his past was the absolute last thing Asher needed. Though he’d only just returned inside from his brief reprieve - and thank the gods for Eddara, the woman was too good for the lot of them - he found himself already needing air. Downing his latest drink in one gulp and bidding a quick goodbye to the few once-friends who’d taken up position along the outskirts of the room with him, he took his escape once more. Barely had he regained a normal heart rate before the very same woman had joined him outside. Standing still, so still, hoping she would not notice him, Asher felt his breath catch in his throat at his name upon her lips. “You’re not here. You’re not real. I’m just drunk and imagining you again.”
At that moment, Gwyn’s nursemaid, and quite possibly her greatest friend and confidante in recent years, Ari, emerged from the party as well. Gwyn prayed the darkness of the night shielded Asher’s identity from her, at least in this moment. She would likely tell her later, the woman held many of her deepest secrets, but for now she needed the opportunity to process what was before her. “Ari, could you take Rosie to bed? I will be there very soon, I’d just like a moment to say goodbye to some friends.” She told the woman, handing over the nearly asleep babe and waiting for Ari to walk a good distance away before taking hold of Asher’s arm and leading him behind some nearby brush and trees. “Does this feel real enough?” She questioned, satisfied with the distance she had created between them and the party, hoping to avoid any chance of being seen together, surely unleashing all that had been slowly healing for the past decade.
She inhaled deeply, swallowing down the lump in her throat, mustering up all of the courage in her body to be able to form any sort of words to communicate with what seemed like a ghost. “Again?” Gwyn asked, almost too quietly to be heard, before moving along the discussion. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t thought a time or two she had seen him amongst a crowd, but she was admittedly preoccupied in recent years. “What are you doing here? After all this time?” Her voice quavered. She had to remind herself to breathe, to distance herself. What good would it do to allow herself to give into temptation? “I imagine all that has happened has given you every reason to make sure those you love are okay.” She began. “I have no idea what you have been doing or where you have been, but you can’t be here, Asher.” Gwyn had a million questions for him, but perhaps the best thing she could do in this moment while she had the ability, was to keep him at a great distance.
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