fic trade with @artbygaia <3 see her gorgeous art here!!
Characters: Crown/X Rating: PG Words: 2533 Summary: During a visit from the Pale Sword, Odysseia learns the importance of throwing sand--among other things.
It’s a crisp fall day, with just a touch of a bright snap of cold in the air, when Odysseia is shocked out of her concentration by the sound of her office door swinging open.
When a broad, familiar figure fills her doorway, a grin almost tears her face in two. “Xelara!” she says warmly. Xelara grins back and strides right over to her desk, Odysseia shoving her chair back and winding quickly around her desk to wrap Xelara in a hug.
Being near Xelara’s height, it’s easy for Odysseia to tilt her chin up and rest it over Xelara’s shoulder. Her heart starts to pound in her chest at the proximity, but it’s been almost a month and a half since she’d seen her dear friend. She missed her.
Well, dear friend was something of a misnomer. Rêzan had laughed at her the last time Odysseia referred to Xelara as such in casual conversation.
Odysseia shakes off the memory. If she thinks any longer about calling Xelara her crush, she’s going to start acting like a lovestruck teenager. That would be humiliating, so she instead squeezes Xelara companionably before stepping back.
“Ody,” Xelara greets, and Odysseia is pleased with the nickname. It’s cute, and casual, and not so flirtatious as to distract her. Xelara looks at Odysseia over once, checking for…something. Finding nothing, she relaxes. “You’re looking well.”
“As are you,” Odysseia adds with a wide grin. Xelara’s eyes and cheeks are brightened a bit from what was probably a walk through the gardens, but her hands are still warm where they linger on Odysseia’s arms. She’s traded in her usual sleeveless garb for one with loose, draping sleeves, which are tied partially back to reveal muscular forearms. The front is tied loose, the same long slip of skin visible down her chest.
Odysseia forces herself to focus on the conversation, not Xelara’s fall wardrobe. “What brings you here so soon?” she asks casually, as though she hadn’t practically memorized the last few letters Xelara had sent her.
“Oh, you know. I wanted to beat the snows here; traveling is always such a pain afterwards,” she says lightly, as though she hadn’t spent the last few letters bemoaning how bored she was and how much she wanted to be back in Marabad. Silence lingers just a moment before Xelara glances around, turning away from Odysseia to look at her messily strewn desk.
If Xelara thinks about commenting on the state, she decides against it. “You’re still working?” Xelara asks. She picks up a few documents off the desk, evading Odysseia’s hands as she tries to snatch them back. “What is this, correspondence from other nobles? Eugh. You’re far too kind, Ody. They hardly deserve the attention.”
Odysseia plucks the papers from Xelara’s hands. “They don’t,” she agrees, “but unfortunately, my duty to Arsur requires that I split my attention.” Odysseia sighs theatrically as she moves back behind her desk. She glances sidelong at Xelara, who’s pretending to scan the walls. “Believe me, there are other things I’d much rather focus on.” Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Xelara preen.
Xelara strolls over to a bookcase, scanning the titles with a neutral expression. “Such as?” Cheeky. Xelara knows exactly what that sidelong glance met, but she’s still trying to fish for a compliment. On someone else, Odysseia would find it annoying; on Xelara, it’s endearing.
“Such as a very needy, very treasured guest,” Odysseia allows. Xelara glances at her, a smile playing on her lips.
“A very attractive one too, I bet.”
Odysseia laughs. “You could say that.”
Odysseia can’t stop the smile on her face as she watches Xelara prowl around her office. “I’ll be done in a moment, stop pacing,” she chides. “I just need to look at these letters.”
Determined to get at least some of her work done, Odysseia reaches down for the dagger on her desk and uses it to free the paper. She opens the letter and starts scanning the lines, her eyebrows pulling together. Şevan, supply train, troubles with bandits–
Xelara’s voice cuts through her concentration. “Is that my dagger?” Odysseia tears her eyes away from the letter and looks at the pearl-handed dagger laying on the desk.
“I was wondering if you’d notice,” Odysseia says, nonplussed. “I’ve been using it as a letter opener for weeks.” Xelara’s expression is one of pure disbelief, so Odysseia shrugs at her. “What? It’s not as though I know what to do with it. Honestly, I’d be more likely to get hurt than actually defend myself.”
“It’s not a letter opener,” Xelara repeats. “My sweet, short-sighted, dark-haired beauty, I gave you this dagger for protection–”
“I mean, your exact words were ‘just in case’--”
“--and I want to make sure you can use it for that.” Xelara picks up the dagger and twirls it once in her hand. She stares at the naked blade with a frown. “Where’s the scabbard?”
“Oh! Uh, one second,” Odysseia says. She starts digging through the pile of papers on her desks, then the drawers, then finds it under a different pile of papers. “Sorry. Here.”
“Thank you,” Xelara says, sliding the blade in. She weighs it in her hand, Odysseia watching, and finally she looks up and smiles at her. It’s full of teeth and sharp; when she says “Come here,” Odysseia pauses.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“You said you don’t know how to use it,” Xelara says practically. “It just so happens that I am a highly trained mercenary, and I’m very good at my job.” Xelara beckons her over. “Come here, we’ll start small.” When Xelara sees Odysseia hesitate, she grins again. “I won’t bite, love. Come closer.”
“It’s not the biting I’m worried about,” Odysseia says, raising her eyebrows. “It’s that smile of yours. What are you planning?” She takes the handle when Xelara offers the dagger to her, and Odysseia flexes her fingers while Xelara moves to stand to her side.
“Nothing untoward,” Xelara says breezily, and Odysseia sighs in exaggerated disappointment. “Alright, now show me how you’d hold a knife.” Odysseia raises her fist to show Xelara the hilt, Odysseia’s fingers balled around it, her thumb on the outside. Xelara chuckles before reaching out to take Odysseia’s hand in hers. “It isn’t a club,” she says dryly.
Xelara’s hands are dry and warm as she holds Odysseia’s arm steady, one hand nudging Odysseia’s thumb away from the rest of her fist, guiding it to align with the back of the knife. “Here, keep your thumb along the spine. It’ll help you control the blade more.”
With Xelara’s ‘okay’, Odysseia slashes the air in a slow, exaggerated ‘X’. She reverts to her original grip, testing it, and is pleased to find that Xelara’s advice is sound.
“Wait, was that surprise?” Damn Xelara’s sensory abilities. “Don’t tell me you actually thought I’d be messing with you.”
Odysseia hums back in response. “You’re entirely too fond of practical jokes, Xelara,” she says pointedly. Xelara doesn’t even have the decency to pretend to be ashamed.
“Of course I am, they’re hilarious, and I’m hilarious. But fine,” she sighs. “Now, get into an actual fighting stance, you look like you’re about to make a speech.”
Odysseia makes a face at Xelara, unable to resist just a bit of childish teasing. She rolls her shoulders once, the way she’s seen Xelara do, and lets her body guide her into what feels natural. She widens her stance and bends her knees and elbows, searching for whichever position feels like it has the most mobility. Xelara’s eyes are on her, but they’re strictly assessing as she flicks over Odysseia’s stance. They trace over the line from Odysseia’s shoulders to her legs a few times, and Odysseia automatically straightens her back a little more. Xelara’s eyes crinkle.
“Ooh, how fierce. Shall I ask you to show me your battle face, as well?”
“Not right now,” Odysseia declines. “I’d hate to scare you off.”
Xelara raises her eyebrows. “It’ll take more than a scary face to do that,” she says. “Though I’m sure yours is the fiercest, most terrifying in all the land, with your wide smile and eyes like two gold–”
Odysseia turns the end of the handle towards Xelara and pokes her, loathe to stop the compliment but impatient to continue the lesson. Xelara lets Odysseia jab her before gasping dramatically and clutching at her side. “If you’re trying to impale me, my lady,” she says gravely, “you’re using the entirely wrong tool for the job.” Xelara punctuates the sentence with a wink, raising her eyebrows suggestively.
Odysseia straightens up, fighting to keep the smile off her face and pointedly ignoring the innuendo. “Xelara, if you’re not going to take this seriously–”
“Darling! I am taking this seriously! Please, get into a serious fighting stance.”
Odysseia eyes her with suspicion, but gets back into the same position as before. Xelara clears her throat once before moving in closer, and Odysseia watches her in curiosity. Xelara keeps her expression set in professional neutrality as she takes Odysseia in again, tilting her head just slightly before she reaches for her. Odysseia’s heart skips a beat, and Xelara sneaks her a grin.
“Don’t hunch so much,” she says. She puts one hand on Odysseia’s shoulder and rests the other against her spine, keeping Odysseia’s torso straight even as she rotates her up. “Let’s not let all of that posture training go to waste, hmm?” Odysseia waits patiently as Xelara makes a few more adjustments before stepping back to admire her handiwork.
“There,” Xelara says, pleased, and Odysseia basks in the approval. “Having good form is a great start. You’ll need to practice with an actual tutor, of course, since we can’t have you getting soft whenever I’m away.”
Xelara briefly looks like she wants to eat her words the second that Odysseia’s expression drops in disappointment. Odysseia’s fingers flex around the handle again. “Of course,” she says, a bit too quickly. She walks back towards the desk and places the dagger down. “We can’t expect our schedules to line up perfectly, it’s best if I have someone else to learn from, as well,” Odysseia agrees, smoothing over her disappointment. As comfortable as she is with Xelara, Odysseia knows better than to try and keep her anywhere. She turns back around and attempts a crooked smile. “Maybe I’ll discover some hidden talent, train until I can beat you or Ashti.”
Xelara had just arrived, but here she was already getting ready to leave. Odysseia knows that she didn’t mean anything by it, but it still stings. She holds her smile, even as it starts to feel stretched tight.
Xelara’s expression is thoughtful as she looks at her. She walks forward, and Odysseia finds herself in Xelara’s grip once again.
Xelara takes a gentle hold of her chin and tilts her face up to her, close enough for Odysseia to feel the heat of Xelara’s aura on her skin. They look at each other for a moment, a charged silence starting to build, but then Xelara’s eyes soften.
“Ody,” she says carefully. Odysseia waits, taking in the softly unreadable expression, losing herself in emerald-cut eyes and thick lashes. Xelara wets her lips, Odysseia hanging on to her every breath.
“...what’s the most important thing to remember, in defending yourself with a blade?” Xelara says suddenly, changing course. Odysseia purses her lips just slightly, but she turns it into a thoughtful pout instead. She tilts her head, keeping her chin planted firmly in Xelara’s hand.
“Don’t stab yourself on accident?” she suggests, and Xelara laughs briefly.
“No, sweet, but those are good instincts,” Xelara says. She releases Odysseia’s chin and pinches her cheek. “The correct answer is to try and get away first. It doesn’t matter how; use some of that outer magic as a distraction, run away, throw sand. You’re too new with a blade, and you’re right, you’re more likely to hurt yourself than anything else.” Odysseia considers this.
“You want me to throw sand?” she eventually says with a frown. “Isn’t that a little…childish?”
“Hey now, some kids have the right idea,” Xelara insists. “I can attribute a lot of victories to thrown sand. It’s incredibly effective.” Odysseia shakes her head with a fond chuckle.
“Alright, fine. I’ll throw sand and only use the dagger when it’s completely necessary,” she promises.
Xelara smiles at her, really smiles, with open fondness. “That’s my girl,” she says, and Odysseia feels uncharacteristically shy, her usually clever tongue tied in knots. She beams back.
After a moment's silence, Xelara’s eyes flick down to the desk and she leans against it. Her expression is a little distant, the way it always is when she thinks, so Odysseia settles in next to her. She watches Xelara silently, waiting to see what she says, and finally Xelara faces her head-on again.
“You know I’m coming back, don’t you?” Xelara asks after a moment of hesitation. “It’s…I don’t have any plans to disappear from here forever, you know. I won’t stay, not indefinitely, but I’ll come back to you.”
Well, it’s as close of a confirmation as Odysseia can expect at this point. She reaches out automatically to tuck a stand of Xelara’s hair behind her ear, but pauses at the intimacy of the action, mindful of Xelara’s comfort. Xelara fixes her with an uncharacteristically serious look, then leans her head into it.
Her hair is just as soft as Odysseia imagined. “I’ve never doubted it,” Odysseia says honestly.
Xelara may come and go–and why wouldn’t she, her livelihood isn’t here and Odysseia knows about Xelara’s adventurous heart–but she’s never given Odysseia a reason to worry about any visit being the last.
The sudden sound of the door opening shocks Odysseia and she steps back, while Xelara is completely unphased, likely having already sensed the intruder. Ziryan stands in the doorway, looking a little apprehensive.
“....Your Imperial Majesty,” they say finally, very obviously keeping their face neutral and bowing deeply. Odysseia feels a strike of pity for the poor thing; it always seems to be Ziryan that has to burst in and interrupt any sort of budding romantic moment between her and Xelara. It’s frustrating, but the consistency is at least becoming comical.
“Your next appointment is ready, if you are.”
Odysseia sighs heavily and turns to Xelara. “Duty calls,” she says dejectedly. Xelara clasps Ody’s shoulder sympathetically.
“Good luck, Ody,” she says solemnly, but Xelara breaks the faux gravitas with a crooked grin. “Knock ‘em dead.”
Odysseia smiles bemusedly at the advice, but then she nods to Ziryan, who begins to lead her away. She casts one more glance over her shoulder at the woman still leaning against her desk.
“Will you be joining us for dinner?” she calls back, feigning a casual tone.
“It’s a date,” Xelara promises, and Odysseia nods once in satisfaction before following Ziryan out the door.
A date, she thinks with a smile. Perhaps it's a bit childish to be so excited over such a simple statement, but the idea makes her feel like a lovestruck teenager.
A date.
