Oh boy. Really coming for my heart. Also I’m not sure this got angsty enough, I might owe you some additional angst to this.
26. “We’ll be alright, won’t we?”“Hey, Ira.”The familiar voice cut away the silence that had lulled her eyelids into closing. Humming in a lazy reply, the woman blinked the sleep away to look down at Exta’s face. Hair spilled over her crossed legs, where his head rested, and soft eyes that fought his own sleep, just to stare into the dark night sky above them a moment longer.“We’ll be alright, won’t we?”. The question, muttered in between a breath and another, caught her off-guard. Ira knew what he meant. With the summit date slowly drawing closer, the preparations for the trip had already begun and - well, she couldn’t say she hadn’t been particular anxious about it.
The constant etiquette classes about local customs and lectures over “the importance of shaping your words in order to cause a good impression” and reminders to “make yourself available and useful, but not be completely given” didn’t really help the idea to seat well with her. She could only imagine how that was affecting Exta, who rarely thought a word through before a whole phrase had already left his lips - but also, who grew up being comfortable enough to speak this freely.
While Ira felt, among her people, like an unwanted guest that had come to spend a weekend and decided to stay for the rest of the month - or year -, Exta felt at ease among the other hunters and the animals he rescued. He had always been good with both animals and people alike - and to be amidst those that cared about him now felt the closest thing to home that he could imagine. No wonder he’d be nervous about parting with it to thread a scenario of politics and possible hostility, even if just for a week or two.
Never mind Ira’s assurance that he could stay in the village and not throttle along as her bodyguard, for she was already to be accompanied during the event - he had his and Powi’s things packed even before she started to plan what to take for the trip. That initial courage burst seemed, however, to wither now, in these final nights before departure.
“Try not to worry yourself over the Summit.” She whispered with a tiny exhale, trying to reassure her brother, as much as herself. The movement of his head turning upwards inclined her to glance down at him, before continuing. “Just be yourself and you’ll be-”
And still, as she brushed the hair away from his eyes, he glanced up with eyes that seemed to ask her about something else entirely. Even if she didn’t want to think about it, she could feel what they were alluding to, and soon the words trailed off.
He didn’t want to know if they were going to do okay in the event, but if they were going to be okay without this - their comfortable and safe refuge beneath the stars and swaying tree tops, away from the people’s eyes and closer to each other’s truth, whispered in silences. Away from what they claimed as theirs, and what claimed them back.
It felt the same as when he’d come to her bed at night, when they were just kids - scared of the dark and all the things they’d imagined to be hiding within it. This time, however, she couldn’t cover him in blankets to hide him away from the eyes in the shadows. The Summit was an obscure path laid before them - the world out there, so different from all they knew, sounding more and more like a dive into a endless river, a walk through a dark, twisted forest with no opening to see the sky.
In such a simple question, now, resonated a familiar kind of uncertainty. One which enveloped both of them when they hugged for the first time, after years without trading a single word. In the middle of that awkward and desperate hug between someone too confused to hold back and another too yearnful to let go, Exta had asked her the same thing - and between choked tears and broken sobs, she couldn't remember if she even managed to answer.
Would they be okay, heading blindly into the darkness?
“Yes,” with her eyes glancing back into the horizon and her heart tight against her chest, the whisper fell from her lips with a shaky breath. Her voice provoked another stir and a soft mumble from the boy laying down, who had already fallen asleep, apparently. She didn’t even spared a look back down, the smile was already growing on her lips as her hand brushed the loose locks of brown hair. “We will be alright”.
Sometimes, her eyes would linger on the wedding ring, tucked away safely on her drawer.
"Never again", she'd think.
If it was a bitter or a relieved thought though, it would depend on the day.
She never fancied a crown.
Neither did she care about marriage.
Before the failed wedding, Tabris could have thought about a ceremony, having her family gathered, exhaling in approval as she walked down the aisle to meet the person she loved - or that she was supposed to.
Could have, but didn't. Married was not a status she ever hold in a high regard. It was nice to celebrate love, sure. But married wasn't what she aspired to be in the future. Nor did she wanted that to be her greatest achievement. Growing up with tales of heroes and great battles, she could barely manage to sleep at night, looking at the bottom of the top bunker, where her mind would paint exciting tales right before her eyes - tales that would no doubtly become the next day story play with her cousins.
Although somewhere along the line, she tried to gather her own irreverence and tried to be the daughter her father wanted her to be, there was always something that would dissuade her. Maybe it was her mother's blood, running so strongly in her veins - or maybe she was just so, sostubborn. However it was, she was never made to be the princess in those silly story books. She knew she would be the warrior. Not that she'd have much choice at that. If the life in the Alienage taught her anything was that nobody would stand up for an elf, only themselves. And she would willingly stand up against an army how many times it was needed for the people she loved.
But then, there was this funny thing about love: it could flow both ways.
And Maker, did those flows felt good. They flew beneath her skin every time he was near, washing away every bit of sadness within her. When he shot her a cunning smile from across the room, signaling her a promess only she could understand. When he took the smalls openings when none of the guards were looking and touched her hanging hand, even if only a slight brush of fingers.
Everytime their skins touched was like being set ablaze. And every time he drew her near, enveloping her in his embrace, she would allowed herself be cradled by his heartbeat. Those brief moments between the excitement and falling into deep slumber granted her the taste of something she never knew she would be able to savor: peace.
Feeling his hand caress the curls of her hair, while slowing drifting to the dream realm, she could not have a single care.
She didn't need a ceremony to celebrate their bond,
Or a prayer to make chaste their kisses.
She didn't need a chantry sister to reinvidicate her heart's loyalty,
Nor did she need a ring to seal that commitment;
She didn't need the Maker to bless them -
Her love was already divine.
Original word also on AO3.
Comments, kudos or any kind of feedback is very appreciated <3
