Quiet My Fears With the Touch of Your Hand
Summary: Immediately Post-onyx storm/Draithus. Probably somewhere in the missing 12 hours. Sloane deals with the revelation that Xaden is venin. She’s terrified about what that could mean for her. Enter Dain. Written for day 1 of Slain Week (touch)!
Word Count: 1179
A/N: Happy Slain Week my friends! My first venture out of my little Iris-centric AU :) Title from Death by a Thousand Cuts (tswift)
Tagging @violencelittlething and @empyreanevents
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Sloane could feel her world breaking apart around her. Xaden was venin. Xaden was venin. Xaden was venin. Garrick was missing, Aaric was missing, Imogen and Violet were gods know where. Bodhi sat beside her, one hand hovering above her back as she kept her head between her knees in an attempt to ward off the nausea. She had resisted his attempts to hold her, shaken off his hand as he rubbed her back. She couldn’t let him touch her. She couldn’t let anyone touch her. She could practically feel the anguish radiating from him, at his cousin’s fate, his friends’ absence, and her own distress as they sat in silence.
“Aetos,” Bodhi said wearily as the wingleader entered the sitting room.
“Durran,” Dain acknowledged with a nod.
Dain crouched in front of Sloane. “Sloane.” Her name sounded like a sigh. She didn’t look up, instead staring at his bloodstained boots. “Sloane, eyes here,” he tried again, voice gentle. Sloane shook her head. “Sweetheart,” he murmured, hooking two fingers under her chin.
“No!” Sloane’s voice came out louder than she intended. “Don’t touch me!”
Next to her, Bodhi growled. “I swear to Amari, Aetos, if you’re doing this again with memory stealing I will feed you to Cuir right fucking now.” Fire blazed in Bodhi’s eyes. He knew there was something going on between his wingleader and the girl he viewed as his sister — the pet name alone would have given it away even if he wasn’t so perceptive — but he didn’t know the details. What he knew was that Sloane adamantly did not want anyone touching her, not him and not Dain.
“It’s not like that, Bodhi,” Dain stammered.
Bodhi’s eyes steeled. “So why don’t you tell me what it is like, then? Because what I’m seeing is your hand on my baby sister’s face and her recoiling.”
“It’s okay, Bodhi,” Sloane said meekly. “He’s trying to help. He was out there with me. He saw what I did.” Both men could hear the struggle in her voice as she desperately tried not to cry.
Bodhi’s eyebrows knitted with confusion. “What you did?”
“She fucking saved Mira’s Sorrengail’s life. That’s what she did,” Dain answered, still crouched before Sloane. Sloane whimpered.
“Sweetheart…” Dain reached for her again. This time, Sloane jumped to her feet, running out into the corridor. “I’ll go,” Dain said. Bodhi nodded, wondering what had just happened but lacking the energy to properly investigate.
Dain finds her curled in on herself in a corner of the courtyard, a place he knows she goes to think, to process her feelings. He approaches her slowly, like you’d approach a wild animal. She’s still not crying, still fighting the tears that threaten to overwhelm her entire being. Dain kneels in front of her yet again. “I’m here. You don’t have to say anything right now. You don’t have to let me touch you. But I’m not leaving you.”
Minutes pass in silence, Dain fighting every urge to reach for her, to haul her into his arms and never let her go. He knows, deeply knows the agony of having a signet that requires touch. He knows the fear that every touch will cause the signet to go out of control. He knows the fear of hurting loved ones. He’s lived with that fear for nearly three years now and he’s reaped the repercussions of it bearing out. It’s why he’d been so adamant that Sloane train her signet, so determined to be a mentor to her, so he could save her from herself or at least give her a soft place to fall. He hadn’t counted on falling for her or for her reciprocating. He hadn’t counted on the stolen glances and stolen moments of a secret whatever the hell this thing between them was.
“How could he do this?” Sloane’s voice comes out as a weak whisper. “How could he turn?”
Dain carefully considered his words before he spoke. “I’m not going to pretend that I have some great understanding of Riorson. But I do know he’s loyal and protective. That has to be why.”
“He’s always in control. He has so much power but he’s always in control, Dain.” Suddenly Dain realized why Sloane was so upset. Yes, Xaden was her leader, someone she looked up to, the closest thing to Liam she had left. But it wasn’t just that. She was scared that if Xaden fucking Riorson could turn, so could she.
“Can you look at me, baby? Please?” Sloane slowly looked up, her brilliant blue eyes meeting his soft brown. “There’s my girl.” Sloane’s lips turned up ever so slightly. His girl. She loved that, loved being claimed.
“You will not turn. I know that. I believe that with every fiber of my being. I get that you’re scared. I get that you don’t understand your signet —“ Sloane rolled her eyes as if she was expecting Dain to launch into his familiar lecture about the importance of training her signet. “But I understand your signet. I’ve seen you wield, seen you give life. And I’ve read every tome on siphoning I can find. I meant every word I told you earlier. You. Are. Life.” Sloane shook her head.
“Touch me.”
“No!”
“Touch me.”
“I fucking said no!”
“Touch me, Sloane. You won’t hurt me. You won’t. You won’t drain me. You haven’t drained the earth where we’re sitting. You’ve never pulled too much. Touch me and prove to yourself that you can.”
Sloane hesitates, then slowly reaches out her hand to his. “Good girl,” Dain breathes, pressing his palm against hers. “What do you feel?”
“I feel your power humming beneath the surface.”
“And do you want to take my power?”
“No.”
Dain lifted his other hand to her cheek. “See, sweetheart, you’re touching me and I’m touching you. I’m not reading your memory and you’re not draining me or siphoning me. We’re just two ordinary people with two extraordinary signets.” He stroked her cheek softly and the dam broke. Sloane burst into tears, loud sobs that made her whole body shake. Dain lifted her onto his lap and she clawed at his jacket as she buried her face in his chest. “Let it out, baby. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” Dain rocked her back and forth, stroking her hair and pressing kisses to the crown of her head. Sloane cried for Xaden, for her missing friends, for everyone they lost in this war. But she also cried tears of relief. Relief that she could touch and be touched. Relief that she might have some control over her signet. Relief that the man holding her loved her and believed in her. Relief that she could feel something other than fear and anger.
After Sloane’s cries had quieted, Dain stood them up and led her by the hand to his bedroom. Exhausted, they quickly changed into sleep clothes and slipped under the plush comforter, Dain’s arms around Sloane and her head over his heart. They fell asleep touching, bringing life back into one another.
