Alster was certainly clever in finding ways to get people to come through on their promises. It was not out so much out of an inability to sleep anymore, so much as it was a reluctance on Isidor’s part. No matter for how short or long he closed his eyes, images unbidden would rise to the surface of his mind. He had already attempted to make use of the sleep tonic he’d crafted, himself, the one that he had once offered to Teselin, but while it helped him sustain sleep for an adequate period of time, it had done nothing for the dreams and images that assaulted his mind. It became more favourable, then, to simply tolerate lack of sleep than to suffer through the memories and nightmares that he could not seem to shake. The Rigas head had claimed his Night Garden-brewed tonic would prevent these nightmares, but the Master Alchemist had his doubts as to its efficacy in that sense. Yet now that he had instructed Tivia to deliver it… Well, it would be obvious to both Rigases whom he had resolved to help if he didn’t take the tonic. He only hoped that Alster’s appraisal of its dream-nullifying properties were true. “Is it that obvious that I don’t sleep?” He joked, but in all honesty, the bags and circles beneath his eyes, and the way his hands shook when he concentrated, were no joke. “I suppose it is worth trying… the more rested I am, the more efficiently I can do my work. That, I can’t deny. But, please believe me, you are far from the reasons for my lack of slumber, Tivia.”
The last thing the Master Alchemist expected of the proud Rigas woman, who just the other day confessed her selfish nature when she’d told him she didn’t extend her help to just anyone, and couldn’t be guilted into being helpful. If anything, he had figured any lingering regrets from the past night would have had to do with whom she’d been intimate, not the fact she had instigated something that was clearly out of Isidor’s realm. Frankly, the apology left him feeling confused: had he misjudged her, for her intention, or himself, for his worth? “So you think Alster… he would not take offense to… what we did? He seems like a reasonable person, I just can’t help but feel I tread territory that was… well, somehow forbidden to me. At the end of the day, you are still a Rigas. Alster informed me that Elespeth hailed from a noble family in Atvany, so there is little wonder why their union was sanctioned, but I am really no more than a commoner. There is nothing favourable about the Kristeva name…and I,” he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “I assumed… that perhaps, you would have regrets about what we… about…”
He was quickly becoming tongue-tied, his face flushing anew just trying to discuss their previous twilight affairs with the one person he could discuss it with, because she had been directly involved. Clearly, Tivia had not come here to judge him; so why was it that his heart still raced in her presence? Especially after last night, when she had confessed her… desire for him?
“Tivia… you should know by now that I am far too much of a coward to let myself get swept up in situations that make me uncomfortable, or that I don’t want to be in.” Was he hearing correctly? Did she really think… that her advances hadn’t been something he’d wanted, however unconsciously? “Perhaps--no, not perhaps. I was most certainly unprepared, but not in the way that you might think. It’s just that… oh, hells, it is damned obvious that I have never been with anyone. Not until last night; just you. Because until I met you, I had never felt the desire. It had never crossed my mind, living alone in a tower. But being unprepared and not being ready are two very different things. If I had not been ready for what you offered to me, believe it or not, I think I’d have found it in me to refuse you.” The corner of his mouth quirked in what could have been a proud smile, but it didn’t last. Was she saying… was she implying that last night had not been a passing fancy? That he was more than an opportunity at a time when she had felt lonely and in need? Isidor hardly knew how to process that… but he knew he needed to give her an answer, a response, lest she leave feeling she had taken it too far. It had been a lot, that much he could not deny, but it had not been undesirable. Not for even a moment.
“Like I said… I am not well-versed in the nature of… intimacy. But, contrary to popular beliefs of hermitude… it is not something that I am loathe to explore. As long as it is with the right person.” This time, his smile was softer, more genuine, and hopefully it allayed some of her own insecurities. The last thing he wanted was to leave a bitter taste in her mouth or rub salt into a wound so raw and open that he’d seen it before she’d confided in her. Her fear that she would never be desirable, never be wanted by anyone. To never feel beautiful again. He wanted her to one day see what he saw: that she had been beautiful all along. “If you want a next time… there can be. I cannot guarantee that I can be as satisfying as someone with more experience in that area, but… well, I suppose if that mattered, you wouldn’t have asked me in the first place.”
Something about the way her face relaxed when he assured her there was no reason to feel guilty or embarrassed warmed him from the inside-out. Whatever it was that had caused Tivia Rigas to change her tune and take a liking to him when she’d wanted nothing to do with him before, he was grateful for it, although… he couldn’t help but wonder why she preferred him now, a broken man, and hadn’t held an ounce of warmth for him when he had still been relatively whole (and in the dark…). Had shattering to pieces made him bolder? More desirable?
...and had it really been worth the agony?
Intimacy aside, there was something else on her mind that she wished to divulge, something that as an alchemist, and not a mage, he had difficulty understanding. His star… was she implying that he had a star? That every living thing also had a mirrored celestial body somewhere in the universe, and Tivia, who was able to openly communicate with the stars, was now privy to the secrets and dark corners of his life that he wished to share with no one? And all because she had established relations with his brother? “So you… does this mean, if there was something I may not wish you to know… you could know, anyway? No more secrets?” Realizing how condemning that sounded, he lifted his arms and shook his palms. “Not that I am hiding anything--I’m rather an open book, albeit a boring one. The darkest parts of my life are only now becoming accessible to even me, and, well… if you are not familiar with what it entails to become a Master Alchemist, you need only do your research. Although… I implore you not to,” something akin to sadness mirrored in his tired, black eyes, and he lowered his hands, “lest your opinion of me change for the worst. I cannot take back what has been done… I wish I could. Gods, I wish I could, but all I can do now is move forward and hope that one day, I will find atonement.”
It made him wonder, then, how long she would remain in the dark about the nature of the procedure that would restore her face. And how long she would continue to allow him to progress with it, when she learned she could only attribute her brand new face to the burnt scar tissue developing on the back of his shoulder. Under any other circumstances, he could easily have vaguely brushed it off as a past injury if she were to notice or ask questions, but even if he were anywhere near a formidable liar (and he was far from even passable), it wouldn’t matter if she had the ability to trace it back to the actual source. Would she believe him if he told her the truth? That it brought him far more joy to take pride in her face again than it did to remain unmarred, himself? It wasn’t as if he hadn’t gone through life, scarred. Some of those scars were physical, and remained on his skin, but the worst of them were unseen. The worst of them kept him awake for hours and hours, afraid to so much as blink, lest he relive the dark corners of his past that he had forgotten.
For now, her intuition did not seem to reach that far, and she could only speak of Teselin’s whereabouts. “So, you think Teselin… she has forgiven me?” He found that hard to believe, but nonetheless, he did need to prepare for his sister’s return. There wasn’t enough time in the world to craft an apology that would measure up to the way he had slighted her. “I’m… well, that is reassuring. I will feel better to know she is back safe and sound.” Her friend can go take a long walk in a dark alley, he bitterly added at the back of his mind, unsure as to whether he could ever gift Hadwin with forgiveness. He had offered to cooperate; he had offered to help Teselin, and hell, even the faoladh… and in return, Hadwin had opened up a black hole of memories that continued to consume him, moment by moment, hour by hour, day by day. He couldn’t escape it; he couldn’t forgive Hadwin.
“If you’d rather not--you know, you are welcome to…” Sensing her hesitation and reluctance to leave, Isidor was about to offer that she stay a while, despite that he failed to think up any reason for her to stay aside from company… until she mentioned his alchemist stone. Missing? At first, that sent his blood pressure skyrocketing, until he remembered he had recently brought a handful of tins up from his dungeon workspace. The stone had been in one of those tins, tucked safely away, and for all his disorganization, he was not one to lose his belongings. “No, not missing, just moved--perhaps that is what you intuited?” Isidor expelled a slow sigh of relief as he crossed the room to locate the stack of black, nondescript tins. “No one but you, Alster, Teselin, Vitali, and myself are even aware of its existence. It is safe enough…”
As if to prove a point--not just to her, but to himself, so that he might rest easy, he lifted the lid of one of the tins. It was empty. So he lifted another, and another, peering in and sifting through all of the contents, his denial growing ever more desperate as he proceeded without the smooth, otherwise harmless looking stone. When the last lid was lifted, and the last tin examined, he turned back to Tivia, looking far parler than he had before.
“If you are not busy right now, Tivia,” deep concern creased his brow, “I would appreciate nothing more than if you could help me tear this room apart and find that stone.”
Though they’d traveled the same distance, the journey back to Galeyn seemed so much longer than the initial venture to find Sigrid--for which they had come up empty handed. Teselin was already drafting out the apology she would offer Haraldur in her head: how she had let him down a second time, but how it had been necessary to save Briery’s life. The young summoner knew he would understand, would not hold it against her, especially where the acrobat’s condition had relapsed and left her worse off than before and in dire need of medical attention… but that did not alleviate her guilt. Sigrid left because of a decision I made. She is in danger… but so was Briery. Hadwin needed to save Briery, and I… I couldn’t have found Sigrid on my own.
It was because of the Missing Links’ ringleader that their journey back had been longer, in fact. Although her pneumonia had gradually been clearing from her lungs, and her fevers had subsided, Briery could only spend limited amounts of time in the carriage, grand as it was, before the pain grew too intense and she desperately required a bed or a hot bath just to be comfortable enough to be coherent. She never requested this special treatment, but both Hadwin and Rycen, who were well attuned to her discomfort, were often able to make the call when travel was becoming too much for her, and she needed a day’s reprieve or so. It added time to their journey back, and winter was not growing any warmer by any means, but at last, a few weeks later, the small party of five found themselves one again at Galeyn’s borders--and, understandably, quickly surrounded by Forbanne soldiers.
“What is going on?” Briery whispered when the carriage was forced to a halt, and she saw the movement of bodies outside the carriage in what was left of the failing daylight. She had been lethargic that given day, another tell-tale sign that her disease was flaring up and causing her discomforts she refused to speak of for fear of inconveniencing her comrades. “Is everything alright…?”
“It’s just the Forbanne--they don’t recognize the carriage, that’s all.” Teselin was quick to reassure her, and pulled a shawl around her shoulders. “But they know who we are. Everything will be fine.”
Along with Hadwin, the two left the comfort of the carriage and stepped out into the cold to be in plain sight of the Forbanne’s torchlight. The last time Teselin had witnessed the Forbanne on duty, Sigrid had still been there… but this time, she was surprised to find yet another familiar face among them. Two, in fact.
“Elespeth. Haraldur.” It seemed that Alster’s wife had finally recovered, and had been keen on jumping right back into action. “I… we didn’t find Sigrid.” Might as well get that out in the open sooner than later; it would have soon been obvious, anyway. So much for finding a way to put it to him lightly… “But… we did find someone. Briery; she is in bad shape. We’ll explain it all, but she should see the healers, immediately.”
Tivia laughed, and for the first time in months, it was not a laugh coursed through with derision, awkwardness, or bitterness. In fact, it rang with innocent amusement; a laughter not directed at Isidor, but, on the contrary, directed at his concern. “Excuse me, Isidor. Alster is by and large the furthest thing from an obstacle standing between our...well...what we have. You have his approval. You always will.” She walked her fingers down the slightly less textured line of burned skin along her jawline, already noticing a difference in quality since Isidor began treating the damaged cells with his alchemy. “He would not even balk. Neither would Chara, I suspect. Elespeth may be of a noble family, but she has been stripped of her name and title by the country she served. Moreover, Chara and Queen Lilica were together long before the latter discovered she descended from Galyenian royalty. A disgraced knight and a then-commoner...neither stopped a Rigas from choosing them as a worthy partner. Besides, for your contributions, Alster will not hesitate to welcome you as an honorary Rigas. You are among the right crowd for advancement, if that is what you so choose, Isidor. If you still remain in doubt over your blood-worthiness, look no further than Prince Haraldur Sorde as another example. Not only is he a commoner, but he was once a slave to Mollengard. A Forbanne soldier. Now he is happily married and a father to royal twins.” Perhaps it was not the best idea to mention the man who took her virginity in front of the man of her current interest, but considering how interweaved their alliances with each other ran, it was impossible to omit the Forbanne commander from all future conversation. Isidor would never suspect their liaison, otherwise. He hadn’t enough information to gather the facts, nor did Tivia see fit to offer any nuance of perspective that might alert him to the possibility. Would he think any less of her if he discovered her previous dalliances with the Eyraillian prince? It was better not to draw attention to a shameful moment in her recent past. Better for him to believe she did not open her legs for anyone of significance to her.
“I don’t have regrets,” she muttered, painting over her troubled thoughts with a shy smile. Not if it means you’ll care about me. You’ll think of me. You’ll continue to want me. “As long as you don’t have them, either.” She feared for his answer, going so far as to close her one eye tight, steeling herself for the reply, as she knew Isidor to be honest and quite incapable of lying--but what her ears received was...favorable. He favored her, still, and did not bear any shame for their union insofar as it pressured him to partake in something he didn’t actually desire. Barring his body’s positive reaction to her touch, she worried he agreed to their tryst only to satisfy her needs in that moment. Out of desperation to be agreeable and helpful, he resignedly accepted her offer as a circumstance of his credo, and not out of any desire of his own. But if his response was to be believed…
“We can explore it, together,” her shy smile cracked wider, almost exposing the teeth on the unmarred side of her face. “Explore...intimacy. I’m no expert, either. We can learn. If it’s with the right person…” she echoed his sentiment, but hesitated in finishing her spoken thought. Pressing her sweaty palms together, she ventured to ask. “Do you think I’m the right person? Ah...no,” she rescinded, biting down on her lip. “Idiotic of me to ask. How are we to know we’re right for each other unless we see for ourselves? It’s...it’s like an experiment, yes? Pose a hypothesis, test the variables, run trials and formulate a conclusion. We could do that.” Sliding forward from her safe corner along the wall, she closed in on him to plant a soft, chaste kiss on his lips. “Don’t worry,” she pulled away, but maintained her hands upon his shoulders. “One step at a time. I fear I’ll overwhelm you with the information I’ve yet to disclose.”
And disclose she did, first in relation to her star-seer quirks, and next about the missing alchemist stone. Vague though she was about her initial tidbit of news, Isidor appeared to take the cosmic-tiered invasion of his privacy in stride. No wide eyes, no sputtering, no visible distress. For a man who respected his space and never sought out an audience beyond the walls of his safe confines, to refer to himself as an ‘open book’ seemed like an odd choice of words, especially for one so resolved to keep his pages closed and out of sight. “I could know,” she confirmed with a nod. “But I don’t have that type of control, yet. It’s possible I may never control what I receive from the stars. They’ve a mind of their own, and an agenda. I see what they want me to see; I hear what they want me to hear. I haven’t yet figured out how to tow the line, or if I can. Stars aside,” she dismissed the heady topic with the swipe of her hand, “I assure you, Isidor, whatever I do learn of your past, my opinion of you will not change. Keep in mind, I spent the majority of my company with your brother for the past year. I’ve seen, first-hand, the heinous things he’s done. Alster, as well. He’s far from innocent. I even implore you to ask a reformed Forbanne soldier about the horrors they’ve incurred while on duty. It’s not for the faint of heart. Believe me, Isidor, you are among people who more than understand how it feels to partake in monstrous deeds, but that doesn’t, by default, make them a monster. So please,” she gently cupped the sides of his face, “it’s inconsequential, what I’d end up seeing. Or hearing.”
Having said her peace, whether her peace comforted him or not, she joined on the search for the alchemist stone, though she already knew of its whereabouts, and in whose hands it rested. She knew, but as an excuse to spend more time with Isidor, she cleaned out drawers, overturned boxes, flipped through tins, and checked behind the crevices between each shelf. Their joint efforts had, predictably, yielded nothing but a messier workspace. It no longer paid to play ignorant, especially in seeing how the loss of such a powerful and dangerous stone upset him.
“Isidor.” She carefully stuffed the tins of their belongings and twisted the lids in place, methodically doing so for each one they rummaged through, “the alchemist stone...are you afraid of it? Did that fear ever linger in your mind, create a visual imprint? Perhaps you feared its discovery, and you unconsciously drew a map to its hiding place? This is not to sound accusatory, but...if you harbored any measure of fear for the stone and its capabilities, then the question of its absence has an obvious answer. He was there, in your dungeon workshop. He was the one to knock you out before you,” she could not help but glimpse the silver-scarring of his run-etched hand, “burned your hand. Isidor...Hadwin took the stone. Because he wants to do something with it.”
Meanwhile, the thief in question was crossing the Galeynian border, driving a carriage too elaborate not to draw attention wherever it traveled. Fortunately, the carriage and its inhabitants did not experience bad weather or bad company on the long road back to the hermit kingdom, and it was frankly a hell of a relief not to fight off brigands or snow squalls while tending to a sick passenger’s worrying deterioration. The closer they neared to Galeyn, the sparser the towns and villages on the road, creating a worsening situation for Briery, who required a warm bed, a hot bath, and a healer’s tonics to stay at a reasonable level of homeostasis. A professed jack of all trades, Hadwin did not have proficiency in health-related matters to lend aid aside from offering body heat as a wolf and monitoring her condition through his acute snout and ears. Sure, he gamboled with a few physicians and chemists and learned some tricks in his day, but he focused his learning on concocting potent stimulants for inducing a good time. Falling short on painkillers and medicines they’d purchased from apothecaries on the road, it ended up coming to his personal stash of herbs to not only ease Briery’s physical discomforts, but her mental distress, as well. And between Teselin’s ongoing spate of fears, mixed with the ringleader’s ongoing nightmares both conscious and unconscious, Hadwin often needed to sit up front, in the cool wintry air, to smooth out the knot of his fear-generated headaches--some of which generated from his own fears.
On the evening they reached the western border, the faoladh slowed the steeds to a stop as they approached a checkpoint populated with Forbanne soldiers, grim-faced at the unusual carriage, which no individual in Galeyn possessed.
“Listen to the kid, Brie.” Hadwin called to the ringleader over his shoulder. “Just a little standard operating procedure. ‘Sides, we’re not without some familiar company.” Complying with the gruff soldier’s orders to step away from the carriage, Hadwin joined Teselin’s side and held up his hands as a gesture of good-will and disarmament. It was not long, however, before the ‘familiar company’ Hadwin alluded to appeared from the rear, dismounting their steeds and approaching with an additional set of torches.
“Hey Elly! Harry!” He grinned his hellos, heedless of any ‘real’ danger surrounding them. “What a treat to be frisked by the two of you! I take it you’re out here searching for my sister?”
“Sisters,” Haraldur emphasized, ignoring the urge to stab the faoladh with his sword for the unflattering nickname.
“Huh. Never thought Bron to be the one to go rogue like that. Well, all of that can wait.” He thumbed over to the carriage. “It’s exactly what Tes said. We don’t have Siggy, but we answered another call of distress on the road, and she’s been had something fierce. We gotta get Briery to the Night Garden. She’s gripped with disease and all sorts of bad shit. Needs attention, and now.”
Following procedure, the Forbanne first checked the carriage to account for the passengers Hadwin and Teselin had mentioned. Once in the clear, Haraldur nodded over to Elespeth. “We’ll need to inform the healers of your impending arrival. Go on ahead, Elespeth. Take your steed to the palace. Notify the Gardeners, Elias, Daphni, Alster--whoever is available. Prepare the sanctuary. She’s going to need emergency attention.” After Elespeth mounted her Night steed and headed towards the palace, her journey halved by the coming of night, Haraldur, all business, turned to Hadwin and Teselin. “My party and I will escort you to the palace. That way, we can circumvent all the checkpoints. Can Briery hold out until then?”
“She’s gonna have to,” Hadwin blew out a sigh. “Not much else to do but take the long march home. Hey, Brie,” he leaned into the open door of the carriage, “we got a small Forbanne procession that’s gonna take us through the back door to the palace. Gonna be like, two hours I wager. I know you’re experiencing hell right now but if you can brave it for a wee longer, we’ll be that much closer to getting you a much-needed reprieve. No more travel after this point onwards. That sound fair?”
She agreed, albeit with a pained expression and a barely audible ‘yes.’ With an affectionate pat on her arm, he smiled encouragingly and moved into the carriage with her. “Here, I’ll be with you the whole time. Lautim will take over steering the steeds, won’t you, big guy?” The silent giant nodded his assent and climbed up front, taking the reins in his meaty hands. “Ready when you are, Papa Sorde!”
Haraldur shuddered. “Don’t call me that.” Before heading to his steed to lead the procession, he cocked his head to Teselin, catching her just as she was stepping inside the lavish conveyance with the others. “Teselin--I know about Sigrid. Tivia told me. A few days ago. You tried to look for her, but...well, it looked like someone else needed you. I can’t fault you for anything. In fact--thank you.” He managed a smile as he helped her into the carriage. “For looking. If Sigrid takes after me at all,” he absently rubbed the swatch of indigo cloth dangling from his belt, “she wouldn’t have been easy to find, even with your full attention.”
With a brisk nod, Haraldur closed the door to the carriage and mounted his steed. What ensued was a three-hour-long stop and go trek through the darkening countryside, a difficult stretch plagued with uncertainty over Briery’s endurance. Though she would not speak out to the extent of her pain, everyone knew she was straddling near-unbearable levels of it on a constant basis. No more cycles, no more waves. The agony had roosted inside her like a raptor; it tore the walls of her insides with angry talons, building a nest borne from blood and internal screams. Hadwin, master of distractions and misdirections, quickly lost his efficiency in Briery’s battle against her literal inner demons. Their pull was far stronger, more damaging. Soon, all anyone could do was wait out the excruciatingly long journey to the palace gates with bated breath--or in Hadwin’s case, whispered curses.
At last, the carriage pulled up beside the main entrance. It didn’t even reach a full stop before Hadwin wrenched open the door and made way for the Gardeners, who came forward with a cushioned contraption with wheels. Through joint efforts with Lautim, who possessed the bulk to handle the ringleader effortlessly, the Gardeners succeeded in securing their patient, and immediately wheeled her to the sanctuary for treatment. Unable to do much else but follow, Hadwin and the others trailed the procession of healers to the Night Garden, but their route ended at the sanctuary’s front door. Elias, in midst of carrying a medical bag rife with supplies and tonics, stopped them at the entrance. “I’m sure she will love to have the love and support of her fellow circus-freaks, but the sanctuary is a bit space and it is already full to capacity. You will have to wait outside until we deem it safe for visitors.”
“Does that rule also apply to me?” Alster Rigas, his face spotted in perspiration and his breath ragged from running, leaned his prosthesis against the doorframe for support. The Clematis healer appraised him with a dark gaze, silently deliberating.
“You’ve treated her from the inside-out, before. Very well, Rigas. You may enter. But no one else.”
“Go get ‘er, Al,” Hadwin cheered. The Rigas Head presented him with a steely glare, then slipped inside wordlessly.
“About the reception I expected,” Hadwin threw his shoulders into an exaggerated shrug. “Takes a lot to piss him off but leave it to me to find a way. Well,” he looked to Lautim, Rycen, and Teselin, “I guess we sit around like a bunch of useless stooges until we get visitors’ clearance. We should be so lucky that we got her here on a slow day. With all the aid she’s got, I’ll say she’s golden.”
While neither Elespeth nor Haraldur held the faoladh in particularly high regard, and often took what he said with a grain of salt, if there was any situation where they could be sure the man would not exaggerate, it would have to do with Briery’s health. With Teselin there to vouch for the severity of the situation, and no reason to suspect that either of them were lying (the carriage’s passengers did check out as being the members of the missing links), the two of them unanimously decided without further discussion that this emergency had to be taken seriously.
“Try to keep her comfortable; I’ll inform Galeyn of your arrival, and preparations will be made.” The ex-knight promised as she mounted her horse, and left the procession to Haraldur and his Forbanne soldiers. It was getting late, anyway, and as per the agreement made in the council room when Haraldur had accepted Elespeth as part of the search party, she was to be home and finished by Nightfall until she was deemed recovered on-hundred-percent from everything that had assailed her the year before: the substance abuse, her heart condition, and now, her body acclimatizing to… magic.
It would have been a bold-faced lie to insist that she was always happy and content to return to the room she shared with Alster in the evenings. Despite their marriage that spring prior, and how sincere their vows had been to one another, the departure from Stella D’Mare had placed a terrible strain on their relationship with one another, as well as themselves as individuals. The once comfortable silences that had settled between them as a couple had quickly turned awkward, with both of them wanting to say so much, wanting to ask so many questions, but in the end not knowing how to find the right words, or if there even were any right words. Elespeth felt particularly guilty knowing that a good portion of her husband’s recent stress, the bags under his eyes and the way his shoulders slouched as if he bore the weight of the world, was her doing. She’d worried him with her broken ribs and questionable condition, leaving Stella D’Mare. She’d further driven him mad with grief when she’s almost died of exposure as a result of over-consumption of that Mollengardian stimulant, and then declared they could not be together, because she could not stand to look at herself.
She wished it had stopped there, that their marriage could’ve healed all of those wounds their partnership had suffered, but her diseased heart had once again flooded his own heart with deep-seated concern, only further exacerbated by her temporary coma. And that hadn’t been enough--no, the universe had not seen fit to finally gift the two of them the reprieve that they desired, for the development of magic following the healing of her heart was the most recent obstacle, one that she was sure she had the answer to remedying… Can’t you just let me be Elespeth Rigas? Be your wife, a caster… whatever it means to be a Rigas? She would lie awake thinking, as Alster dozed in deep, though not undisturbed slumber. She’s not Elespeth Tameris--but she can be better than her. I can be better than Elespeth Tameris, if you would just help me transform, Alster… My sword no longer needs to be my only weapon. Let me put Elespeth Tameris behind me--behind us--and pave a new future. You could be happy… we could be happy.
But even her newfound desire to get to know her magic, to familiarize herself with the way it flowed through her body, to get used to it and find out how it can be most useful, did not seem to appease him. If anything, Alster only appeared more hurt at her desire to embrace this change, and evolve to accommodate it… but why? She could be a warrior and a mage--Tivia had been, after all. As had Chara, and to an extent, Lilica. Why was he so insistent that she channel it through her sword as some bastardization of Elespeth Rigas, an identity with which she was no longer familiar?
You’ll see, Alster. Wait until I’ve come full circle as Elespeth Rigas. You won’t miss Elespeth Tameris for a moment.
That was an issue for later, however. Currently, the health and wellbeing of a mutual friend was on the line, and she knew well that Alster would also be willing to put whatever he had going on hold when he heard tell of Briery’s crisis. On the bright side… at least she had words for her husband, tonight. There would be no awkward silences or forced affections leading up to when he would retire to bed in just a few hours. As soon as Elespeth arrived at the palace, she sought out the healer’s and Lilica’s informants right away to put them in the know of what was happening. Enough unnecessary lives had been lost in this peaceful kingdom; enough blood had been spilled, enough pain had been suffered. She knew without asking that her request to prepare the sanctuary and muster Gardeners and healers would not be met with any resistance.
It was on her way to inform Alster of the recent development that she actually ran into her husband, headed in the opposite direction down the corridor. He looked weary; these days, he always did, and she knew it had to do with the influx of peoples’ problems that he just couldn’t solve. The Rigas Head did not do well, sitting on the sidelines and watching helplessly as lives fell apart. Perhaps… this was the boost he needed. “Alster.” She caught him by the shoulders before he even looked up, her cheeks rosy from the cold and the haste in which she rushed to alert the relevant people of Briery’s need for aid. “Teselin and Hadwin have returned... with Briery. I don’t know the details, but it seems she is in critical condition, and I can only assume it has to do with her disease. You were able to help her once before, weren’t you? At the very least, to minimize her pain? Well… perhaps you can be of use again. She looked as though she could use all of the help we can offer her.”
Elespeth nodded over her shoulder, tucking tresses of her chestnut locks that had begun to reach her mid-back, behind her shoulder. It was long enough to pull into a braid, at this point… but that was yet another relic of Elespeth Tameris that she took strides to shed, along with other aspects of that identity. “They are about an hour and half away from the Night Garden, I’d wager. You have plenty of time to prepare in whatever way you must. If Briery sees that you’re reaching out,” her mouth curled into a grin, “then I doubt even Elias can refuse your involvement.”
It was only two hours, and compared to the days and nights spent on the road, it shouldn’t have seemed as long as it did. But in the past day or so, Briery had begun to suffer a flare-up that incapacitated her in the worst way. She hadn’t stopped bleeding since they’d saved her from that wretched prison; all of the new clothes they’d purchased for her were quickly sullied, no matter how Teselin tried to devise ways to tuck rags into loose trousers to contain the acrobat’s menses. This wasn’t normal; it wasn’t good, even for someone such as herself who had suffered this invisible disease for the majority of her life. Because it wasn’t just weeks that she had shed blood, sometimes heavily and other times light, but well over a month. Just days after she had found herself without her tonic… a cycle that just wouldn’t stop. On top of her pain, it rendered her weak with anemia, and hardly able to eat or drink with the cramping and shooting pains that shot through her body. Though she never openly complained, everyone had become highly attuned to her needs, and for all they knew Briery would never want to be a burden on them, keeping her comfortable was a full time job.
This last leg of the journey, while it was only hours, almost seemed the worst. Briery couldn’t sit up; she had half-curled her shrunken body in a fetal position, with her head on Hadwin’s lap, and Teselin rubbing her lower back to try and offer some sort of relief through the agony. At this point, her tonic was useless; it only lightened the bleeding, and did nothing for the pain. She had passed a point of no return, and whatever happened next--though no one spoke of it, they all knew it would be drastic.
When at last the carriage pulled to a stop, and Hadwin invited the cold by opened the carriage door, Briery couldn’t even sit up for the life of her. Lautim had to gingerly reach his massive arms into the space that was still too small for him, and ease the afflicted ringleader out, into the apparatus that the Gardeners had prepared for her. Everyone from the carriage--the Missing Links, Hadwin, and Teselin, trailed closely behind the ringleader and the Gardeners all the way to the door of the sanctuary, only to be intercepted by Elias.
“Of course--we’ll stay out of your way,” the young summoner agreed, just before another familiar voice spoke up behind them. Alster insisted on lending a hand, as well, and between his skills, that of Daphni and Elias, as well as the Gardeners… everyone agreed that Briery really couldn’t be in better hands.
Everyone aside from the Missing Links, Hadwin, and Teselin remained outside, mercifully spared the winter cold thanks to the mild temperature of the Night Garden. It wasn’t uncomfortable, and whatever happened, they were all happy to wait for a prognosis. Just because they couldn’t be with Briery didn’t mean they couldn’t be there for her. It wasn’t long after the ringleader was thrown into the hands of healers, however, that the small party of four was since joined by two others. The young summoner was perhaps the most shocked of all of them when she turned and was met with two familiar faces. “Isidor? Tivia…” She blinked several times to ensure that exhaustion hadn’t clouded her perception. “What are you--”
“You.” Isidor, far from the timid, non-confrontational being of few words that she remembered, did not waste any time in striding up to Hadwin in particular. He towered over the man by several inches, and perhaps it had to do with the lack of daylight, but something about him did almost seem intimidating. “Something of mine has gone missing--and I have good reason to believe that you know exactly where it is. I don’t know what it is exactly you think you can do with an alchemist stone, and frankly, I don’t care. But I want it back, now…”
A cry of pain from inside the sanctuary interrupted the Master Alchemist’s thoughts, and all heads turned worriedly to the sanctuary door. “...what is going on?”
“It’s Briery--you haven’t met her. She’s a friend and ally, and she is very ill… in a lot of pain.” Teselin ventured to explain, hugging her arms around her middle. “We hoped… something could be done for her, here. In the Night Garden, with healers and healing flora, and Alster…”
The walls were anything but sound-proof, and anyone standing nearby could pick up on the snippets of conversation through the blessed wood. Beyond Briery’s cries, Daphni struggling to keep her calm, Elias losing his patience because she couldn’t describe where it hurt the most--it hurt everywhere. Arguments of whether or not it was safe to perform surgery, given that her vaginal bleeding just wouldn’t stop…
“...is she in critical condition? If so, they’re wasting too much time with guess-work.” Stalking past Hadwin, Isidor rapped on the door until someone--the Head Gardener, Senyiah--answered, with an impatient look on her face.
“We will have no visitors right now, Alchemist. Our patient is--”
“I can help. If she doesn’t know where the pain is, you can’t know what precisely is causing it, or how to proceed. I’ll save you time, and her agony, if you’ll let me.” When Senyiah didn’t respond, he added, “Go ask Alster. Ask him how I determined the source and reason for Elespeth’s heart failure. I can do the same with this woman, and much more quickly, since she is conscious and can give me feedback.”
“...very well.” Senyiah stepped aside to allow Isidor entry. The Master Alchemist stepped onto the porch, and cast one last glance of his shoulder at Hadwin.
“...this conversation is not over, by any means.” He promised the faoladh, before stepping insight… and quickly going pale at the sight of blood. This wasn’t a face; this woman, Briery, was beyond unwell.
“Alster.” He nodded to his friend, who was himself struggling to reason with the patient, who was beyond her threshold to deal with her pain. Taking to her side, Isidor humbly bowed his head. “Briery? My name is Isidor. If you’ll let me, I think I can help you by helping the people who can tend to you… may I have your hand a moment?”
The ringleader, whose eyes were bloodshot with tears, nodded and shakily lifted her small hand for him to take. Isidor almost recoiled as soon as he touched her skin. “This… this is…” He shuddered visibly, and if it were possible, went even paler. “... so much imbalance. It’s more than just pain and bleeding…”
Briery’s eyes almost seemed to light up, then. She stared at the strange man in awe. A stranger, of all people, validating the severity of what she’d feared all along. “...you know? You can… tell?”
“You’re… were you ill, recently? Your lungs…”
She didn’t understand how Isidor could know this, but Briery wasn’t in the state of mind to try and understand. “Pneumonia. But it’s… gone, supposedly… that isn’t the--”
“Isn’t the problem--I know. But something… your lungs…” He went silent for a moment, closing his eyes to concentrate. “It is… I am not a physician, nor a healer. But I do understand the human body, and how it is supposed to function. And this…” He gestured to her lower abdomen. “I don’t understand your affliction enough to explain how, but it seems as though damaged tissue from your organ here… has migrated to your lungs. Ending up in places where it shouldn’t, and irritating organs that should otherwise remain unaffected. All because… because one organ is malfunctioning. Your uterus. Does it still hurt to breathe?”
The ringleader nodded, tears streaming from her eyes. “If I could laugh… I would.” She attempted to joke through her pain. “To think… it would be a man, of all people, to understand…”
Gently putting her hand down, Isidor turned back to the healers and Gardeners. “If you are debating surgery, then in my own opinion, I would recommend it. As it stands, her body is still strong enough, but the longer she continues to bleed, the higher the risk. Once the afflicting organ is dealt with, only then would I suggest focusing on the remaining tissues. To further reassure you,” he tried not to focus on the bloody sheets out of the corner of his eyes. “I’ll stay. I’ll monitor her homeostasis during the procedure and alert you as soon as I feel anything go array. Ultimately, the decision is yours--and hers--but whatever you choose to do, do not linger on uncertainty for too long.”
His glib, unaffected attitude notwithstanding, Hadwin Kavanagh was far from passively acceptant of Briery’s projected success-rate of recovery. To those who knew him well--chiefly Teselin and the Missing Links--deflecting with humor and irreverence was primarily a coping mechanism, especially if said humor clashed with the moods and attitudes of his surroundings. Exhibitions of false optimism, while a desirable distraction from calculating the worst-case-scenario, were not entirely sincere, coming from his lips. The realist in him knew she’d survive; people didn’t die in the Night Garden, and Galeyn housed every specialized healer under the sun to fight poor odds. Briery was a shoo-in for an eventual full slate of health. And yet--while he certainly focused on the upsides and not the downsides, he couldn’t shake the possibility that nothing was real. He died months ago. He was in hell. The destruction of Apelrade aside, he managed to evade the brunt of his mandated list of tortures. Now, it was a matter of waiting for the other shoe to drop. Against his better reason, he started to entertain the worst of the worst. If this was hell, and she ‘died,’ not even a necromancer could return her to an approximation of life. Not if his existence now belonged to a plane created by his greatest fears. Why would she rise from the dead, unless as a voice reminding him of his constant wrongdoings? Either way, there was no question about it; Briery’s death was among one of his greatest fears. If it came to pass, he’d know, without a doubt, where his soul currently resided.
At some point between releasing Briery’s life into more capable hands and lingering on standby in the balmy Night Garden air, Hadwin whipped out his pipe and smoked it in furious puffs, between which he joked about some inconsequential thing or another. He’d since lost track of the zingers he told, or the rambling stories he recounted. The screams peeling from within the sanctuary’s walls kept him vigilant, on his toes, pacing--active. Fists clenched, ready to fight.
By the grace of the Moon and all Her lunacy, a distraction walked into his company. He turned towards the approaching sets of footfalls, intrigued to see Isidor and Tivia. Together--the latter not shunning the former’s company, and the former… Standing tall. Hyper-focused. Undeterred. Honing straight for his target--him.
“To what do I owe this unlikely union?” He raised an eyebrow, too intrigued to find any threat in a team-up between a slighted Master Alchemist and an equally slighted star-seer. “Mean to tell me you actually got Tivia’s fawning attention? What did I say?! You stand with a straight spine and you let your voice be heard and people pay notice. You’re welcome for the advice.” He basked in the man’s presence, meeting his depthless onyx gaze with two golden discs reflecting off the Garden’s bioluminescence--two yellow moons, meeting the abyss with borrowed light. “Ah, so it’s not about my helpful contributions to your long-lost memory recall that’s got you frothing at the mouth. You’re here to report a petty robbery. To the wrong authorities, I might add. Can’t help you there--unless you’ve come to accuse me? Is that right?”
Frankly, he had forgotten about his moment of kleptomania-induced weakness, some weeks ago. In the jostle of his emotional crisis, Isidor had dislodged some items off the shelves in his workshop--including the rock Hadwin had seen periodically appear in the alchemist’s fearscape. No effort required to pick up the stone and bury it in his pocket. So much had happened in the interval of his absence from Galeyn that he didn’t even tell Teselin about the stone, or what he planned to do with it. He didn’t think that far ahead, but when opportunity struck...well, he couldn’t deny the allure that such a powerful stone betokened. And really, what a waste for it to belong in the hands of a Master Alchemist far too ashamed of his compelled crimes to utilize its gift to the fullest extent. Under Isidor’s guardianship, the stone would sit as nothing more than a glorified museum piece, a curiosity of potential, unutilized.
“Ohhhh, you’re talking about the pretty rock I found on the floor. Psh, how was I to know that was anything important? You mean to tell me you own all the rocks just lying around in the dungeon? Well forgive my lapidarian curiosities. Bugger all if I know where it is anymore. I go nude on the regular. Could’ve fallen out of my pocket in the middle of a transformation or something.” He hooked the stem of his pipe around the corner of his mouth. “I’ve got a nose for scents but finding your rock’s like looking for a specific grain of sand at the beach. Anyway, I’d love to chat about stone-logistics, but now’s not the right time--”
As though on cue, a bone-rattling scream drifted through the sanctuary door, startling even the battle-hardened Hadwin into a sympathetic flinch. “Aw geez, what’re they doing to her!?”
Isidor, his curiosities ignited by the sounds of distress, made brief inquiries about the nature of the patient who suffered inside. Without further need of an explanation, the Master Alchemist went ahead and bargained his way into the sanctuary. Well, well, well...his initiative impressed Hadwin, to say the least. Perhaps spooking the daylights out of him really did have some lasting benefits--benefits he’d get to reap without even asking for them. Unless they had anything to do with him, directly.
“Gotcha, Door--well, you’re not so much a block of wood anymore, are you? Isidor, then. ‘Til I can think up another nickname. I look forward to our conversations,” he said, with a wink, before the alchemist slipped into the blood-infested mayhem of Briery Frealy’s living nightmare.
Alster Rigas was in over his head. Confronted by a woman so acute with pain it transcended the spectrum, any efforts he made to reach the woman ended in failure. Upon his arrival, he gently took her hand, whispered assurances and emanated a wave of low-frequency hums, non-invasive ripples to promote healing and calm. He spoke her name, asked what pained her, understood its source--her uterus, as it had always been. But understanding from where the pain likely emanated was not the same as pinpointing the area of affliction, and his suspicions were just those; suspicions. They could not operate out of guesswork. What if they were wrong, and addressed the wrong organ?
“I’m able to go inside,” he informed Elias and, to an extent, Briery, who’d been reduced to dry sobs on the blood-drenched sheets where she lay, stripped naked from the waist down. “Travel through her nervous system, as I’ve done before. It’s an uncomfortable sensation but shouldn’t be a painful one. While I’m inside, I’ll be able to take a look at the aggressor and we’ll isolate the organ responsible. From there, I’ll have you determine if surgery is a viable option. Briery,” he laid a comforting hand on her chest. “I’m going to gently probe through your uterus. I know this hasn’t been a pleasant sensation for you previously, but I’ve since fine-tuned my skill and it shouldn’t cause any disruption. Healers are injecting you with painkillers as we speak--but, if you feel discomfort at all, it’s alright to notify us however you see fit. Are you ready?” At her hesitating nod of consent, Alster closed his eyes, waved his organic hand over her abdomen, and transferred his consciousness through the stems that tentacled from his brain, down his spinal column, and into her body. But that was as far as he journeyed before he was violently ejected back into himself by the eruptive seizing and earth-shattering scream of the patient whose misplaced trust in him had resulted in perpetuating her unfathomable agony.
“Briery,” he sucked in a guilty breath. “I’m sorry--I’m sorry!”
Magic, again, had hurt someone. A force of will, it placed unneeded stress on a body already experiencing vast stretches of trauma. His practices were invasive. His healing--untenable. What else could he do? He would be unable to work if she crumbled every time he laid hands on her.
“Isidor.”
His head shot up at Elias’s acknowledgment of a far more suitable candidate for the task. The Master Alchemist had caught wind of the delicate operation in the sanctuary and arrived with timing to spare. Of course. You’re the solution. Not me. It was never me.
Without hesitation, he abdicated his spot beside Briery and invited Isidor to take his place. “Briery--” he leaned over, whispering encouragingly. “Isidor is a good friend of mine. He healed Elespeth’s heart and brought her to a full recovery. There is no one better who knows the human body and its imbalances. He’ll take care of you.” Nodding to the Master Alchemist, he stepped aside to allow him the space to work. As he suspected, no pain came to Briery from Isidor’s hands of appraisal. An instantaneous understanding traveled from patient to alchemist, a conveyance of knowledge that did not add an additional fifth element. No magic to scorch up her insides. No necessary force compounding the problem, or worsening it. And the way Briery looked at him, a savior who gleaned the crux of her pain so effortlessly, a feat no one else could or would accomplish...
Perhaps...it was time to sacrifice his pipe dream and hand it over to someone more capable, more specialized. Someone who could turn the dream into a reality, just as one might turn lead into gold. Elias was right. Magic...did more harm than good. Whatever it healed, it inflicted damage elsewhere on the body, or the mind. Unnatural. Healing of his nature...unnatural. Harmful. Irrelevant.
You need this more than I do, Isidor. This is your calling. You’ll find recognition here. People will look up to you. In helping others, maybe you’ll find your purpose. Your happiness. So if it makes you happy...I don’t mind stepping down. I don’t mind…
Elias, grunting his approval at Isidor’s assessment, slipped on his gloves and arranged the medical tools on his tray in preparation for surgery. Accompanied by Daphni, Senyiah, and the Gardeners for assistance to extract the unhealthy organ, it became glaringly obvious who was the most useless member in the sanctuary. The one who took up the most space, the most weight, steel arm and all.
“Isidor,” he placed a steadying hand on the alchemist’s arm, “I leave it to you. After surgery--I daresay you’re a better candidate for healing Briery’s remaining, harmful tissues. You are able to exchange damaged cells with healthy ones. I know you’ll need time to prepare, but healing Briery’s tissues is not a time-sensitive procedure. Not like her surgery--which Elias has at hand.” He gestured to the sanctuary door, towards the people waiting outside. “Hadwin is faoladh. His ability to regenerate both surface level and internal wounds in minutes makes him a prime donor for the exchange. Of course, you’ll have to see if he’s compatible, but he’ll agree to it for Briery’s sake, no questions asked. Despite his smoking and drinking habits, he’s healthy--and,” He didn’t say it, but the implication shone in his tired blue eyes. If you wanted revenge, you could make the procedure as painful for him as possible. “Besides, my magic isn’t right for this delicate procedure. It’s downright harmful. I know when to relinquish my duties. So I will.”
“Will the two of you stop yammering so I can work in peace!?” Elias shouldered around the alchemist and the caster, gloved hands expertly wielding a scalpel. “If you’re looking to have a tea party, here is not the place. Go outside or be useful. I don’t care who helps or who doesn’t--stay out of my way.”
“That’s my cue.” Removing himself from the veritable nucleus of the room, Alster plastered on an encouraging smile for Isidor. “Do what you need to do. I have the utmost faith in your skill.” Without another word, he exited the sanctuary, to the curious glances of the Missing Links, Teselin, Tivia, and Hadwin.
“I know you’re looking to ignore my ass, but what’s going on?” Hadwin puffed a dirty stream of pipe smoke in the air, downwind and away from the sanctuary door. “Actually, I’ve got impeccable hearing. What do you need me for?”
“First off--put out your pipe. If you want to help Briery, get sober, and quick,” he informed the faoladh in a cold, distant, matter-of-fact tone. “Elias is undergoing surgery to remove her uterus before the bleeding worsens. Her condition has spread to other organs--primarily her lungs. After her surgery, we,” he retracted the term with a sigh, “they--will address the damage. Isidor is able to exchange damaged tissue for healthy ones. For a faoladh like you, it shouldn’t be a problem to donate your healthy cells and heal the incoming damage within your regenerative body. The Gardeners will need to check first for compatibility. And if you’re compatible...while you’re at it, you can donate your blood, as well.”
“I mean, I’ve got no problem doing that as long as it’s not a set-up to slit my throat, but,” Hadwin’s smoldering pipe sat spiraling in his hand, far from his mouth, upon request, “don’t think I don’t know for a second what’s really influencing this transfer of hands.”
“Then you’ll also know why Isidor is the better choice to help Briery. I’ve made my decision. Briery will recover. She’s under the care of exemplary people.” Excusing himself from the gathering, Alster headed out of the Garden, en route to the palace. He didn’t travel far on his own before encountering Elespeth in the hallway, her brow furrowed in obvious confusion.
“They’re about to do surgery to remove Briery’s uterus. Isidor is there with her. I’m extraneous, so I left,” he reported flatly, with no implied emotion. “Magic isn’t...it won’t help her. It’ll only do further harm. But she’s well-looked after. I trust in Isidor’s judgment.” He stretched his lips into a facsimile of a smile. “And I’ll trust in your judgment, too, Elespeth. Be whoever you want to be. So long as it makes you happy...but you don’t need me to induce the change. I can’t guide you.” I can’t do anything. “I can’t force a change.” My magic’s already done enough damage by force.
“Good night, Elespeth. I have work to do...don’t wait up for me.” Stiff-bodied, he withdrew and stiltedly walked away from her company. If I can make them happy, there’s nothing I won’t sacrifice. As long as they’re happy...maybe I’ll be happy.
His shoulders sagged from the invisible weight. Maybe not today, but one day. One day...
It had never been Isidor’s intention to butt in and disrupt the working relationship of Alster and the healers. Bearing witness to the screams coming from inside the sanctuary, and overhearing the distraught patient’s inability to divulge the source of the pain that had spread through her body, he only thought to save them time so that they may perform their tasks more efficiently. Contrary to the picture he might have painted of himself, since his arrival in Galeyn, the Master Alchemist was just that--an alchemist, and by no means a healer, even if his prowess in medical alchemy did happen to be formidable. Whatever it was Alster assumed he would be able to do to help this poor woman… well, the Rigas head unfortunately had it wrong. Certainly, he could diagnose the source and reason for her current pain, and he was capable of monitoring the vital functions of her body while more capable healers performed the necessary surgery. But beyond that… well, perhaps given the feats he had performed thus far, he could not blame Alster for assuming that he was also the prime candidate to remove the damaging, irritating tissues from Briery’s affected organs, once she was stable and the surgery was a success. The truth was, however, that alchemy was not the most preferable method of removing or obliterating matter. It was a matter of exchange, and in Briery’s case, the presence of something--tissues--that should not be where they had ended up. Such a task required a form of extraction, and from what he understood of Alster, the Rigas head was the better candidate.
“But Alster…” Isidor was prepared to explain that this was certainly not a problem he was adept to fix all on his own, but for fear of overcrowding the small sanctuary, the Rigas Head took his leave before the Master Alchemist could explain the importance of his presence. With any luck… hopefully, he wouldn’t go far.
“She is unconscious,” he confirmed to Elias and Daphni, after Senyiah administered a sedative that had the agonized ringleader slip into an induced slumber. “It’s safe to proceed--I’ll let you know if anything seems to be going array…”
The only fortunate part of this entire situation, which the Master Alchemist had invited himself into, he realized, was that he did not need to keep his eyes open to witness the procedure while he monitored the ebb and flow of balance and life force in Briery’s body. That didn’t mean he was entirely able to tune out Elias’s communication with Daphni, Senyiah, and the attending Gardeners: try as he might to hear nothing but the steady rhythmy of Briery’s heartbeat, he still picked up on each and every detail of the delicate operation, and accompanied by the strong smell of blood, it was a task in and of itself not to give in to feel faint or the desire to vomit. A young woman’s life partially depended on him and his ability to hold himself together… oh, why had Alster left!? He had come to lend assistance in the only way he knew how, not to replace the Rigas head’s efforts! So help me, Alster, he thought bitterly to himself, I don’t know that I’ll forgive you for making me go through this alone! You could have stayed… if not for her, than for ‘me’!
This was nothing like the hasty caesarian section that Elias had performed on Vega just months earlier. Removal of the organ that was responsible for Briery’s pain was a slow and delicate process that required the utmost patience and attention. To be on the safe side, the Gardeners administered another dose of sedative to the sleeping patient to ensure she did not awaken an hour later, when the Clematis healer still had yet to carefully stitch the open skin back together; Isidor had sensed the acceleration of her pulse, and the insurgence of adrenaline in her bloodstream, that signified she might be at risk opening her eyes before the procedure was finished. But in the end--a gruelling two and a half hours later--the malfunctioning organ was removed, and Briery’s abdomen was sewn back together, slathered with salves to prevent infection and to hasten healing, and finally, she was bandaged and left to rest. The perpetrator of her ails was, as far as anyone could tell, no longer a problem: but the current scarring remained. The endometrial tissue that had migrated from that single organ and attacked her lungs, and, Isidor realized shortly after, one of her kidneys. Exploratory surgery to remove that tissue was not only ill-advised, given the risk it posed on a good day, but Briery Frealy had reached the capacity of her strength and resilience to withstand being cut open. Anything done to treat the her current pains would either have to wait… or other methodology would need to be incorporated.
And, contrary to what Alster had assumed, Isidor was not the ideal candidate for that job.
“Isidor…” Daphni couldn’t help but take notice of the exhausted Master Alchemist, how he seemed simultaneously pale and green of complexion as he took deep breaths, perched on a stool in the corner. “If you need some air before you go any further--”
“I can’t go any further--I can’t go any further. The job is not for me.” Isidor rested his hands on his knees and stared down at the tips of his boots. “It’s for Alster. He should be here. She is still unconscious from the second dosage of sedative, but she won’t remain that way. If nothing is done about the invasive tissues coating her lungs and kidney, she will only awaken in nearly as much pain as before. Alster… he did it before, didn’t he? Obliterated the lesions, the tissues causing her distress.” He forced himself to look up and meet Daphni’s concerned gaze. “Get him back here--now. Before she awakens. He can do what he did before without any risk of causing her more pain during the process. Well--what are you waiting for? Please, go and send for him immediately!”
“Of course.” The Sybaian healer did not ask any further questions before disappearing out the door, where an expectant group of four--no, it was five now, with Tivia added into the mix--awaited the prognosis.
“Daphni,” Teselin, who had been sitting with her back slouched against the sanctuary walls, stood up. “Is Briery--”
“She’s fine and stable. The hysterectomy was a success, but Isidor… he requires Alster’s help, immediately. Someone, please,” she gestured to the two Night Steeds that were still tethered to the carriage. “Take a steed and hurry to the palace. Bring Alster back as soon as possible. His assistance is needed if we wish for Briery Frealy to awaken feeling better than she did before.”
“You mean… he doesn’t need Hadwin?”
“Evidently not. He seems adamant that he is not the person for the job, and insists that Alster is. My knowledge of alchemy is sparse, so I see no reason to question him--especially when there is no time for questions. So, please.” For the first time since they had become acquainted, Daphni Adela appeared very close to losing her patience. “Someone needs to get on a horse now.”
Both Teselin and Tivia looked about to volunteer, but ultimately, it was Hadwin who sprung into action and lept onto a horse before anyone could say another word. Of course, she should have anticipated that it would be Hadwin. He’d do anything for Briery, whether it was offering cells or blood, or dragging the solution to her pain back here by the teeth, if need be.
When the faoladh arrived at the palace, it just so happened that the first person he ran into was Elespeth--whose already troubled face took on a dire countenance when she saw him. “Hadwin? How is Briery? Is she--”
He interrupted her before she could finish, and explained that her stubborn husband who had fled the scene was, in fact, needed for his expertise, and immediately. The former knight didn’t even blink: for the first time, perhaps she and the shapeshifter could see eye to eye about something. “Then let’s go and get him,” came her simple reply, and she invited him to come along with a vague gesture. They found Alster in the library: the place to where he usually retreated for any reason, be it the need for solitude, isolation, or because he just didn’t know where else to go. Without a word of greeting, Elespeth approached and closed the book in which he appeared to be engrossed. “Grab something warm. Whatever is happening here can wait. You’re going back to the sanctuary; Isidor and Briery both need you.” When he opened his mouth to protest, a muscle in Elespeth’s jaw twitched, and she slammed the book on the table. “Did you not hear me? Isidor and Briery need you, Alster! You shouldn’t have left, and you won’t leave them hanging now. So go with Hadwin. There will be ample time to second-guess yourself later.”
Thanks to the efficient speed of the Night steeds, along with Elespeth’s insistence and Hadwin’s capable means of invoking enough guilt to get Alster to comply, the two arrived at the sanctuary not a half hour later. The entourage of five still awaited outside the protective, vine-strewn walls, along with one other, by the sounds of retching several feet away. Isidor had finally succumbed to his squeamishness, and whatever Tivia had so graciously brought him to eat earlier in the day no longer remained in his digestive system. At the sound of hoofbeats, the Master Alchemist looked up from where he knelt in time to see Alster dismount. He forced himself to his feet and tried to pull himself together, bracing himself against the sanctuary with one hand. Alster, understandably, asked if he was alright… but the reply he gave might not have been what Alster--or anyone who knew the meek and timid Isidor Kristeva--would’ve expected.
“First of all, this is not a matter for alchemy. Even if it was, I, for one, could not in good faith perform a similar procedure as what I did for your wife’s heart without preparation and fasting. And, for another--do you remember what that exchange of cells caused? Elespeth inherited your magic. And this scoundrel,” he motioned to Hadwin, “even if he was compatible, he’s a shapeshifter. What do you think might happen if I were to exchange entirely human cells with that of a shapeshifter? How do you think that might manifest in her? What, exactly, might she inherit--for better or for worse? I sure as hell can’t tell you because it has never been done, and I am not about to try it now. But,” he shook his head, “that is neither here nor there, because alchemy is not the solution for what remains of that woman’s pain. Allow me to explain why.” He straightened his posture to the best of his ability, still dizzy from the dry heaving, but otherwise, composed. “What I do--what I did with Elespeth’s heart, that was a matter of replacing damaged cells so that she could continue to heal. That is a matter for alchemy. But what this woman, Briery, currently faces even in the now absence of her uterus… If you’d listened to what I’d said, maybe you would understand. Endometrial tissue has migrated to organs that are otherwise healthy; her lungs, and her kidneys. This is not a procedure that requires replacing or exchanging cells or tissues. The irritating tissue on her other organs simply needs to be obliterated; removed from the healthy surface area of those organs, the way you removed the lesions along her uterus, like you once explained to me. I am an alchemist, Alster; I cannot make something from nothing, and I cannot turn something into nothing. That is the place for magic, and you… you had no business throwing me headlong into that situation alone!”
The fact that he shouted seemed to stun both Alster and Hadwin into silence. It almost made Isidor feel bad; enough that he took a breath and saw fit to lower his voice, but he was not done. “You shouldn’t have left. The only reason I inserted myself into the situation was to speed up a diagnosis and pinpoint exactly what was going on in her body. Never did I propose I had the ability to treat that damaged tissue--it isn’t my jurisdiction. That is yours. Equivalent exchange isn’t what will assuage her pains; complete, forceful obliteration of the endometrial tissue will, and that is far beyond my capabilities, even as a Master Alchemist. If you’d just remained, it could all be over and done with by now; but instead, you just assumed the extent of my craft, and you left.”
He didn’t care to hear the Rigas Head’s apologies, not when time was of the essence, and the sedative would not keep Briery under for too much longer. Administering a third dose, at this stage, could be dangerous for her body to metabolize; if they were going to act, they needed to act fast. “I’m angry, Alster, alright? I’m angry that you left me in such an impossible situation, and I don’t know that I am ready to forgive you right now. But Briery Frealy is still under the influence of a sedative; if we act now, you can do what you did before, and use your magic to remove that tissue without having to cut her open again. I can keep an eye on the ebb and flow of her vitals and alert you if she is about to awaken. I felt the strength of her body; she wouldn’t survive another invasive surgery, not for a long while. So,” he gestured to the sanctuary, which, at this point, was only occupied by Daphni and Elias, who continued to monitor their patient, “let’s do what should have been done an hour ago, and ensure this woman’s pain-free existence. I need your help. So does Briery Frealy.”
Hadwin didn’t need a reason to drag Alster Rigas back into the fray he and his misplaced sense of self-righteousness had abandoned. In fact, he would have followed after the overburdened man and his overburdened feelings of failure like an intrigued puppy if not for the possibility, however doubtful, of his use as some kind of blood and cell repository for Briery. While he didn’t understand the nuances of alchemy nor took any time to research what inexhaustive list of transfigurative tricks of the trade Isidor could conjure out of his rune-scarred hands, he questioned Alster’s impromptu reframing of Briery’s treatment in where removing himself from the variable somehow improved the chances of the ringleader’s recovery. Naturally, Isidor was gifted with the tools for success in his respective field, but through Alster’s compromised scope shaped by fear, the alchemist glimmered with the superior gold to his tarnished silver, presenting as the one and only cure-all for Briery’s multi-tiered ailments. And why try to compete with the perceived best, when Alster viewed himself as pointless and inadequate? If that was how he was feeling, then it was better to pass the torch to a more willing, competent--and importantly--composed--alternative. There was no time for nervous breakdowns in midst of a delicate and grueling surgery. It was for that reason Hadwin let Alster go without any fuss. He could while away his hours in existential dread and later roll around in his self-directed misery if it so pleased him, as long as Briery’s life and health would be spared. But now, as Isidor’s message, delivered via Daphni, clearly indicated, Alster’s poor-judgment call was purely fear-based, after all--devoid of reason, but rife with pesky emotion.
“Ugh--can’t have something go scandal-free for a fucking minute?!” He snatched the reins from a nearby Gardener and vaulted atop the steed. “I’ve got this!” With the click of his boots, he and his mount were near-instantaneously transported to the palace entrance. He barreled down the hallways, a swift runner as either wolf or human, but an obstacle around the corner caused him to veer off course and brake against the wall to a full-stop.
“Ah--Elly. Great. Great to see you.” He clamped down on her shoulder before she could protest out of his grip. “Gonna need your help plucking your husband out of whatever dark headspace he’s puttering around in cuz’ he’s being requested to finish the job and like hell is he wheedling out of his commitment to Briery!”
His urgency motivated Elespeth to join in his hunt for the Rigas Lord. Combined with her innate knowledge of his most frequented haunts and his keen nose, they found him nestled in the corner of Galeyn’s library in moments. A book concealed whatever confliction flickered across his restive face, but it could not partition Hadwin from the waft of his very prominent fears. They marinated into a stew so strong, they reeked of rejection, doubt, and that requisite self-hatred the faoladh grew so fond of seeing. Whatever weighed so deeply on his mind, it could not be attributed to the contents of the book--for when Elespeth slapped it out of his hands (an entertaining play, and one steamed in so much anger and--also--rejection), it took him a half a minute to realize the source of his two-person assault.
“El-Elespeth,” Alster sputtered with surprise. “Why are you--” he gathered his expression into one of practiced conviction. “I told you my reasons. They don’t need me. My magic is too invasive. It’s harming her. And--” he gestured to Hadwin, “Why aren’t you--”
“--Giving out bullshit science as an excuse to dodge your responsibilities as a healer, hm!?” Following suit with Elespeth, Hadwin slammed his hands on the table. “That’s a low blow, especially for the morally-upstanding do-gooder Rigas Lord. Your bluff’s been called, Alster! Do I have to be the one to fucking remind you? Looks like it!” He leaned over the table, golden eyes narrowed and probing. “You’re convinced you failed everyone. You failed your wife, you failed your bosom buddy, you failed Tes, fuck, you think you failed my sister, which is wild to me, but whatever-- so you don’t wanna fuck this one up, too. You don’t want to fail Briery. I bet you’re sick of it. Sick of feeling inadequate, sick of feeling rejected by people you wanna help, sick of feeling like you don’t matter, like nothing you do has a rat’s chance in hell of succeeding when nothing seems to be alright when it’s sittin’ in your hands. That’s all fine and good baggage to burden yourself with but fuck me if it’s my responsibility to carry you. But let’s talk about the here and now. You want to know what real failure feels like?” He thumbed through the pages of the book Elespeth had violently set aside, a peripheral distraction that didn’t take away from the heat of his words, or the fire of personal experience fueling them forward. “Stay here, and you’ll find out. You’ll find out what you didn’t do. What you could’ve done. You’re so afraid to cause her pain by your forceful magic? Healing is pain! You think getting her fucking uterus ripped out of her is a walk in the park? You think surgery isn’t some forceful procedure by nature of it being, y’know, surgery? So I dare you to keep sitting there. I dare you.”
Alster, running out of excuses, tried for one last-ditch effort. “Isidor--”
“--Isidor can’t do shit in this situation. Is that what you wanna hear?”
“N-No! Of course not!” Alster rose from his chair, finally springing into action. “I want for him--”
“--What you want, right? What you believe you can’t have? So you force it on others, like on your boy, Isidor, without thinking that shit through? You assumed what was best for Isidor, not what was in reality best for him and for your damn patient! Rookie mistake, Alster. But no, I get it. I actually get it.” He clucked his tongue at Alster and at Elespeth. “You guys are feeding into each other’s misery. Been doing it for a while now. Perpetuating this cycle of shit, bringing out the worst the two of you have to offer. You need to feel appreciated for your efforts and you,” he pointed at Elespeth, “need to feel acceptance, damning the cost, even if you have to throw pieces of your old self into the fire. Geez. When’s the last time you fucked?”
Alster’s face turned livid from anger to livid from embarrassment. “...What?”
Hadwin shrugged away his evaluation and hooked an arm around Alster, fishing him from out of his self-made corner. “Well, that fucking inspired you to move. C’mon, Lord Rigas. You’re doing this. If for no other reason than the fact that you owe me. For life, you said! I’m holding you to it, goddammit!”
Fortunately, Alster had snapped out of his fugue enough so that no one had to abscond with him by force or hold him for ransom. The Rigas caster matched Hadwin’s pace to the best of his ability, climbed on the steed behind the faoladh, and wordlessly traveled through wind and air wearing nothing else but a light tunic and trousers. He had not dressed warmly. A pointless precaution for Alster to follow after he’d bungled up proceedings so terribly.
The shivering and short voyage did not persist as the duo dismounted amongst the balmy climate of the Night Garden. Positioning the horse just shy of the sanctuary meant that Alster was descending straight into the mess he created, with no opportunity for grace. Not that he deserved grace; the people he slighted were far from extending him any measure of patience, and for good reason. Dammit, Hadwin was right! He didn’t think what was best for the patient, the most important person in the room. No, he didn’t think at all. He was exhausted, he was ill from overwork, and the brunt of his pain and worry that had built up from worrying over others had twisted its barbs inward, blinding him to everything--especially to one simple truth. A truth he thought he’d learned. There was a time and a place for making a noble sacrifice, and it never should be at the expense of someone in need. If he didn’t at least try to help...then he really would fail.
So when he encountered Isidor retching outside the sanctuary, with Tivia nearby, rubbing his back in support, the impact of what he caused hit him a little harder, as though seeing his friend react in physical pain and discomfort served as a perfect representation of his folly. I did this. I can’t undo it...but it isn’t too late to pick up the pieces. I can still help…
In ascertaining Isidor’s wellbeing, he was initially surprised by the alchemist’s lambasting candor, a volatile and seething ball of it, lobbed in his direction. But he did not attempt to dodge, or shield himself from the oncoming attack. Owing to the malicious role he played in awakening the Serpent as a child, he’d grown accustomed to verbal assault. Unlike the mud-flinging of his aggressors, who smeared his character and often motioned for his death, this attack was not hateful. While fronting as frustration and betrayal, understandable in their reactiveness, Isidor’s diatribe wouldn’t have taken form if not for the underpinnings of concern, which colored his anger like a throbbing bruise. Trust. He’d lost someone’s trust.
“You’re right, Isidor, you’re right,” he lowered in a contrite whisper, a counter to Isidor’s shout. “ I shouldn’t have left. I made a mistake. My personal feelings got in the way of practical sense. I fished for excuses and convinced myself I was doing you and everyone else a favor, even when the math, and the logic, didn’t add up. I let everyone down--but I’m here now. So let’s go back inside, Isidor...there isn’t time to spare, and I’m afraid I wasted most of it being utterly useless and pathetic.” Hesitating no longer, Alster reentered the sanctuary, defeated in spirit but determined to succeed.
“Gah, finally,” Hadwin exclaimed from his vantage point, his mock exasperation not entirely exaggerated. He sidled up to Teselin. “And damn, Isidor,” he whistled low in his throat. “Did you hear the chops on that guy? Yeah, yeah, I should be penitent for scaring him straight and inviting a constant stream of nightmares and recovered memories to plague him at night, but I’m really digging this no-nonsense, get-shit-done side of him. Kinda turns me on. Don’t worry, Tivia!” He addressed the glaring woman from the corner of his eye. “He’s all yours.”
Inside the sanctuary, Alster cast his eyes downward to avoid the smoldering wrath behind Elias’s vexed gaze. “I disrupted the sacred bond between patient and healer--I’m well aware. No apology will be enough--but forgive me.” He washed his hands in the washbasin and took a seat in a chair positioned beside Briery’s bed. The patient in question, sedated and asleep, was stable, but her breaths rattled through her worryingly thin body, and the onset of anemia bleached her skin an almost translucent white. A donor’s blood was being serviced through the tubing attached to her arm, providing a slow but replenishing flow, replacing what she’d excessively lost through from the resulting surgery.
“I’m sorry, Briery,” he muttered to the ringleader’s unconscious form. “For running. I’ll rid of what’s ailing you. This, I promise you.” He sat forward in his seat, hand poised over her chest, as before. “How long do you propose she has until the sedative wears off?” He glanced over his shoulder at Elias.
For all his scruples, the Clematis Healer never lost sight of the important matters (unlike Alster) and did not hesitate to respond. “About an hour, I wager.”
“An hour.” He closed his eyes and sighed. “It should be enough time if I’m diligent and efficient.” His hovering hand twitched in nervous anticipation. He stilled the shaking with his steel hand. “Keep me abreast of the situation, Elias. Isidor. I’ll be able to hear you just fine, even when I’m inside.” He dared not waste a minute longer of preamble and preparation. With several calming breaths to still the mind and its conscious gunk, Alster departed from his shell and traveled into the infinitesimal universe present inside of Briery. Following Isidor’s external guidance, he headed first to the biggest problem area, one where he had prior experience in extracting lesions: the lungs. In their final stop before departing Nairit, he and Isidor paid a visit to young Severin’s father, the mill worker, to address the chronic, debilitating condition of his lungs. While nothing could be done to eradicate the disease, Alster was able to stimulate the damaged tissue and encourage natural self-healing through a combination of his celestial magic’s fine-electricity manipulation and the death-seeking energies of his chthonic magic. As he’d done with the mill-worker, he mapped out Briery’s lungs by way of a gentle current, pinpointing the sections in need of repair. And as he’d done with her uterine lesions in the past, he zapped away at the endometrial tissue, a congregation forming primarily on her left diaphragm. With most of the damaged tissue focused in one region, extraction was made a simpler and quicker process. The lesions shriveled and died on impact, creating death fodder for his chthonic magic to sieve and feed to the Serpent as his ongoing tribute for being allowed to live. When finished, he moved on to the kidneys and did the same with precious little time to spare. By Isidor’s voiced warning, Briery was beginning to stir out of her sedated consciousness. He worked at an expedited clip, excising and sieving, hoping the pain did not reach her awakening mind and senses. Fortunately, he completed the last extraction and transferred out of Briery’s nervous system minutes before her eyes fluttered awake. Gasping from the jolt of his disseminated, incorporeal form slamming into his shell of a body, a miscalculated, over-accelerated jump that left him disoriented and his prosthesis a sparking weapon of static electricity, he needed a few moments to catch his breath before able to report the results of his extraction. But it didn’t need to be said aloud; through his own ability to monitor from within, Isidor had determined the patient to be free of the invasive endometrial tissues
“I’m...I’m glad.” Once adjusting from his literal out-of-body experience, Alster heaved an enormous sigh of relief. He rose on his feet, his lightheadedness causing him to wobble severely. “If that’s...if that’s all you need me for, I’m afraid I must rest.”
It wasn’t a drummed-up excuse, this time. No misguided attempts to bolster another. No fear-based maneuvering to circumvent his crippling fear of failure. He’d transcended to the next level of exhaustion, one so acute that it inspired Tivia to guide him to his rooms to sleep uninterrupted. Before they headed out of the sanctuary, Alster bowed his head to the small gathering: to The Missing Links, to Teselin, Isidor, Daphni, Elias, and even Hadwin. “Please accept my humblest apologies. I could deliver excuses all day, but they won’t absolve me of my idiocy. I’ll remove myself… Briery is about to awaken. Depending on how she responds to post-surgery, she might be able to welcome visitors.”
Extending his farewells, he shuffled out of the Garden, Tivia in tow. Out of respect for peoples’ negative feelings towards him--primarily Isidor’s, Elias’s, and Elespeth’s--he kept his distance, and isolated himself out of shame and intractable weariness. His energies had at last been spent, and he had nothing left to give.
Nothing that anyone would want from him, anyway.
While he might have impressed Hadwin, Tivia, and countless others with his clear indication of finally having a backbone, Isidor’s steam left him almost as immediately as Alster apologized and admitted to his folly. The Master Alchemist was still angry that the one person who he’d considered a friend had thrown him headlong into a situation that he was positively not adept to handle, but resentment was short-lived when the Rigas head appeared to realize how his hasty and ill-advised decision to leave the premises of the sanctuary had affected not only Isidor, but everyone involved. Alster didn’t need a lecture on methodology, not when their patient passively awaited their help in her drug-induced slumber. “Thank you,” he breathed, relieved that the mage agreed at all to lend a hand and step up where he felt short of the necessary skills.
The two returned to Briery’s bedside, where surely enough, the acrobat had yet to awake. The sight of tubing delivering blood to the anemic patient made Isidor’s stomach roil, and for a moment, he felt at risk of dry heaving again. But if Alster could pull himself together to deliver necessary results… then so too could he.
“Do what needs to be done, Alster.” He instructed his temporary colleague, and picked up Briery’s thin hand again. “You can depend on me.”
It turned out that the Rigas made did require the better part of an hour to successfully remove the invasive tissue from Briery’s vital organs, and when Isidor did begin to detect the stirrings of wakefulness in the ringleader, he was sure to advise Alster of it with a word of caution. Fortunately, the Rigas head was just finishing up at that crucial moment, and snapped out of his trance shortly after Isidor uttered his words. “I don’t feel it anymore. The imbalance or the invasive tissues that were causing her grief.” He explained with a long sigh of relief. “We… you did it. I told you, Alster--you were what she needed. I fear you mistook my words when I once described magic as an invasive force. While that may well be the nature of it, there are times when magic is necessary. When negotiating balance is completely off the table, as was the case with this woman. Certainly, sometimes it hurts, but so does alchemy. Don’t get me wrong, just because my craft hinges on negotiating equivalent change, change itself is sometimes very burdensome and uncomfortable… and I’ve hurt people. You know I have. I am not a saviour--I am not even a healer. Far from it…”
The Master Alchemist pinched the bridge of his nose and shakily rose from his seat. “...I’m sorry for involving myself. If I overstepped any bounds… that wasn’t my intention. I only hoped to make things easier for her by making it easier for you to get your work done… but I am not a healer. I cannot call myself one, even if much of what I have done for people here in Galeyn has appeared akin to healing. It isn’t my place. But,” he looked up when he was sure his vertigo had passed. “It is your place. I didn’t mean to step on your toes; and I… I didn’t mean to lose my temper. If I’m being honest, I was already incited with the faoladh, and I’m afraid some of that frustration made its way to you by the time all was said and done. I don’t feel I have the right to ask for forgiveness, but…”
Alster didn’t hear him. He was already up and leaving the sanctuary, looking to be in desperate need of a solid rest. Isidor didn’t blame him; for his weariness, or for not accepting his apology. By the time finally had his bearing, and his own shaky legs found the way to the sanctuary door, Alster--and Tivia--were already gone.
“Isidor--if you are unwell as a result of this procedure, please stay,” Daphni gently suggested with a hand on his arm, while Elias assessed Briery’s vitals now that she was coming to after hours of surgery. “There’s plenty of room for you, here.”
“Thank you, but I’m… I will be well, I assure you. I’ll return to my chambers at once.”
So as to give the two healers space, the Master Alchemist stepped outside of the sanctuary, into the temperate air of the Night Garden, where the Missing Links, Teselin, and Hadwin still awaited their chance to see Briery awake and alert, again. “Alster said that it is done; everything causing her pain has been taken care of.” Teselin mentioned with wide, hopeful eyes as her brother stepped into the light of the bioluminescent flora. He looked so much paler than usual, with circles as deep as shadows under his eyes… The more she gazed upon his face, the less he appeared the hesitant, frightened, overly-apologetic hermit of a man at whom she had gotten so irrationally angry. If she hadn’t felt guilty before… it really began to sink in, now. “But, Isidor… are you alright? I understand that blood and most anything medical makes you squeamish--why don’t you take one of the Night Steeds and head back to the palace? I can come with you, if you fear you’re at risk of fainting--”
“It is all fine and well, Teselin. The patient is stable, and currently waking up. She shouldn’t be in any pain; none beyond what you would expect of someone who has just undergone a major, emergency surgery.” Isidor ran a hand through his hair, already beginning to feel a little better now that he was once again surrounded by fresh air. “I am fine, as well. Just… a little tired. I think I’ll walk back to the palace; it will do me some good to breathe some fresh air.”
“I can still--”
“If it is all the same, Teselin,” Isidor held up a hand before she could finish, “I would prefer to be on my own for a while. To collect my thoughts. Your kind off is appreciated, though.”
Pulling his woolen cloak closer to his body, the alchemist cast one final glance in Hadwin’s direction. “Like I said--our conversation is not over. If you do have that stone, mark my words, I will find out. There happens to be a star seer who is willing to help me locate it, and if you do have something to hide… it will be known.”
Teselin watched her brother walk off alone with a mixture of concern, bewilderment, and confusion. “Hadwin… why would Isidor think you have something of his?” She asked the faoladh, only partially willing to believe that Hadwin might well be in possession of whatever had Isidor so riled up. But before he could answer, the sanctuary door opened again, and Daphni stepped out. The Sybaian healer appeared just as exhausted as Isidor, with the influx of emotions relating to the risks of surgery, but far steadier and less likely to faint. And, unlike before, her face appeared relaxed with what could only be relief.
“Briery is awake. She doesn’t appear to be in a lot of pain, but the extensive period of time under the influence of sedatives has left her disoriented and confused… Elias would not typically recommend visitors so early into recovery, but,” she sighed and motioned to Hadwin. “You seem to have a close connection with her. It may bring her some comfort to have you present, until she regains all of her senses and faculties.”
Of course, Hadwin didn’t miss a beat with following the Sybaian healer back into the warm sanctuary, which still smelled of blood and medicine, but far less of fear and trepidation. Briery’s eyes were open, half-lidded, and she had the strength to raise one arm when she recognized the faoladh’s face almost immediately. “Hadwin… are you alright? Am I…? I… don’t know what happened.” Her cool fingers closed around Hadwin’s when he took her outstretched hand, and she appeared to relax a little. “I don’t feel right… but it doesn’t hurt. Not like it usually does… did I inconvenience anyone? Did we… have to cancel another performance?”
The ringleader let out a long breath and closed her eyes, her mind and body still so heavily influenced by the sedatives that she had yet to remember what exactly had brought her there some hours ago. She didn’t let go of Hadwin’s hand. “I hope Cwenha isn’t worrying… she always does. She always takes it harder than I do. Tell her… tell her I’m alright… Hadwin? Will you… stay a while?”
Elespeth wasn’t sure exactly when Alster returned, that evening. Too anxious about the outcome of Briery’s surgery to sleep, the former knight had paced the palace in the guise of being on patrol for the better part of the night. When at last she figured her body wouldn’t hold up the next day without rest, she retired to her room in the wee hours of the morning to find her husband fast asleep. Part of her wanted to wake him to ask of the outcome of his involvement in helping Briery, but for the fact he didn’t so much as stir when she closed the door, disrobed and climbed into bed next to him, he must have been deeply asleep. It figured, considering how he had to use his magic in an emergency situation… He must have gone all out to be feeling so truly drained that not even her noisy entrance could rouse him.
Did you do it, Alster? Do you feel useful again? She wondered as she stared at his back. Does that mean you won’t give up on me, then? On Elespeth Rigas? Or… was it only Elespeth Tameris that he wanted? The warrior he had met back in Andalari? She was changing; she had changed, irrevocably, and… and he didn’t like it. But there was no going back to Elespeth Tameris, not with magic in her veins. Not when she’d left everything that made Elespeth Tameris behind in Stella D’Mare. There was no going back… only forward. “You’ll see. Just give me time… to come into it all. To come into my magic. To become Elespeth Rigas… the wife you deserve. Don’t give up on me.”
Planting a soft kiss on his cheek, the former knight rolled onto her side, back to back with the man she’d married; the same position they’d assumed every night, since they’d begun to share a bed again.
Alster hadn’t roused by the time she woke the next morning; the sun had already crested the horizon… Which meant Haraldur and his team had already left for scouting. How irresponsible of her… and just when she wanted Haraldur to take her seriously, again! Just when she wanted to prove that she was not only a capable warrior, but a reliable person. Hopefully, in light of the recent events that occurred the night before, he wouldn’t think too poorly of her mishap… but that was neither here nor there. If she was awake, and there was no chance of catching up to the Eyraillian prince, then the least she could do was check in on Briery. While she was by no means close to the ringleader, and probably did not even know her nearly as well as Alster did, she had not forgotten how the agile acrobat had extended a hand in friendship during such a dark period in her life; and, perhaps, had been the reason why Hadwin had lightened in his approach to her, taking his nagging and generally poor behaviour down to a… well, a more tolerable level.
Taking care not to disturb Alster (if he was still asleep at this time, then he likely needed that sleep), Elespeth dressed and slung her sword over her shoulder, a precaution she took whenever she left the palace. Until she had grown more adept with her magic, and could call on it easily at will, she would have to continue to rely on her initial weapon of choice.
As soon as she donned her boots and a winter cloak, the former knight made her trek toward the Night Garden, bound for the sanctuary, where she wasn’t even sure if Elias would allow Briery any visitors as of yet. But she wouldn’t know unless she made the effort, and with little else to do today, she couldn’t think of a reason not to become apprised of the situation. Just as Elespeth was approaching the door, it swung open, and who would step out but Hadwin. Of course it would be Hadwin…
“Hadwin--I thought I’d come to see how Briery is doing,” she hastily explained. As if there were any reason to be suspicious about her presence. “Is she able to have visitors? I assume… well, Alster returned last night. If he hadn’t been able to help, I’d probably have found him curled up in the corner of the library, and not the bed. Is it safe to assume she is in recovery, and no longer at risk of another relapse?”
Isidor’s threats affected Hadwin like oil sliding off a duck’s wing. It was one thing for the mild-tempered alchemist to exert assertive tendencies here and there; it was another matter to feel affected by them. Isidor was far from an intimidating sight for the faoladh to behold. “Gotcha, little lion cub. No need to roar so. You’ll wake the whole palace. Go on and get your beauty rest; I’m always willing to chat about whatever’s plaguing you. That’s my specialty--as you’re well aware.”
Flashing the alchemist his most winning--and ingratiating--grin, he wished him well with an enthusiastic wave, but dropped it the moment he disappeared around the corner. “Ah man, he really hates me,” he remarked to Teselin, amusement dominating his countenance. “You show one man his fears and suddenly, you’re the enemy. I’m but a lowly messenger, spreading the truth. He wanted to be better so I gave him a leg up. Of course, he’ll probably never see things the way I do. Anyway, that’s not the sum of why he’s bristling at me like a housecat who’s suddenly been upended into the streets. There’s a more immediate reason he’s pissed at me.”
He didn’t get around to detailing his illicit possession of Isidor’s rightful property. Daphni, the Sybaian healer to whom he’d barely been acquainted, emerged from the sanctuary to announce Briery’s condition and the current state of her cognitive awareness. “Well, that’s my cue. We’ll talk later.” With an affectionate pat on her shoulder, Hadwin retreated from Teselin and happily complied with the healer’s request for his comforting presence. All of two people in the world found his existence comforting, and he just disengaged from the company of one. He was walking the tightrope of extremes, all right; between hatred and love. How accurate, to be named as a comfort and a scoundrel in the span of an hour! It should’ve been proof enough that he was not dead and residing in hell. Briery had survived and an empathetic healer determined him to be one of the first faces she interacted with upon waking. Him! What a gas! He’d be laughing, but didn’t think either Daphni or the recuperating patient would see the humor in his life’s greatest irony: that some people actually desired to attract the emissary of Fear to their sickbeds.
Inside, the sanctuary emanated the sharp, tangy rust of blood and the sharp, burning potency of tonics, salves, and medicines. Briery lay at the center of the small cottage, cleaned of blood and dressed in a fresh, white gown. A new set of sheets concealed the bottom half of her body where the problem organ had been removed. Despite the pale sheen to her face and the tubing in her arms delivering her new blood, she smelled...healthier. The rot of disease didn’t permeate his nostrils, not even when he drew near and sat in the chair beside her bed. “Brie,” he smiled, a toothless one, and encased her smaller hand in his larger one. “You took quite a tumble, had us all freaked out a good while. I don’t mean a literal tumble; you’re like one of those damn weighted spinning tops. Toppling over’s not in your lexicon. But yeah, you had an episode--and in true Briery Frealy fashion, you put on your best performer’s face and took it like a real professional. You did so well, in fact, you don’t have to worry about that pesky problem of yours anymore.” With his free hand, he placed the tiniest tickle of pressure over her abdomen. “It’s gone. Elias snipped it out of you and Al,” after some persuasion, he nearly said but omitted, for now, “burned the lesions out of you. Now you get to take well-earned time off in the Night Garden. I know you’re looking to balk at this unplanned vacation, fucking worker bee that you are, but c’mon, we all deserve to kick back a while. Nothing’s been missed, I assure you--and we’ve got plenty of coin to spare.”
Rising from his seat, he closed in on Briery, rubbing at an imaginary splotch of dirt on her cheek. “I’m not inconvenienced in the slightest. On the contrary, I had one hell of a ride getting back to you. When you’re feeling up for it, I’ll tell you a story about a daring rescue by yours truly. And there ain’t nothing I’m exaggerating, despite what the Rice-man says, cuz it’s all fucking true.”
About to position a kiss on the ringleader’s forehead, he paused, freezing in place at her mention of Cwenha. She’s dead, Briery. He wanted to shout at her, to cut through the post-surgery delirium, and hammer home an uncomfortable but immutable truth about their quacking little cygnet and her graceless fall from on high. She’s dead. I watched it happen. I did nothing; you fucking know I did nothing and you won’t even give me heat for it! While he occupied a seat of high-honor in Briery’s eyes, his comforting presence would not cushion her from a hard-hitting blow, not so soon after surviving physical trauma. Of her own accord, she’d come to realize Cwenha’s forceful removal from the world. But now was not the time.
“Yeah, Brie. She’s fuming.” He shrugged in that ‘what can you do about it?’ kind of way. “Flitting around outside like the wrathful pixie she is. But she’s taken interest in horticulture, if you’d believe it. When you’re not imprisoned to this bed anymore, we’ll go and see the white-rose bush she’s been cultivating. She’s not any good at it; it’s all wild and thorny, but hey, she’s not throwing a temper tantrum so I say the distraction’s working.”
Resuming his earlier stance, he brushed Briery’s brow with a kiss. “Lucky for you, I’ve got nowhere to be, Brie. So I’ll stay. Hells, I’ll stay the night, too! Whether I’m allowed to or not--I’ll sneak in and warm your feet as a wolf. How would you like that?”
As they were both in agreement for his ‘nefarious’ plans to defy the healers and overstay his welcome, he finalized the verbal transaction with another kiss and returned to his seat, their hands still linked together, even when she eventually drifted into sleep. Once her head lolled to the side, indicating her release into the realm of dream, Hadwin thought furiously…
On the possibility of bringing Cwenha back from the dead.
The following morning, Hadwin (who had succeeded in staying past visitor hours at the helpful insistence of Briery), shook into his human skin and put on his clothes, deciding to head outside and smoke for a bit while the ringleader was asleep. The healers wanted to monitor her vitals, besides, and it was best done without a living foot blanket lounging in the way. He wasn’t more than two steps out the door when he nearly bumped into Elespeth. And my, did she present as absolutely dreadful! Not physically, no, but she smelled like desperation and her voice scratched along her throat as though to spite it. Whatever she was trying to accomplish for herself wasn’t working. It probably didn’t help matters that her husband had underwent a mental shutdown.
“Awfully kind of you to stop on by, Elly,” he said, in the glib fashion typical of his conversations with most people. “I’m sure Brie would appreciate more than the likes of me for company. But,” he closed the door shut with a quiet thunk, “she’s out like a light and the healers wanna do some tests in private. So they kicked the dog out. But I’ll tell her you popped in to see her. Doesn’t want anyone to worry, but hey, that won’t stop people from peeking their heads inside, anyway. But as you’ve already figured, your man did it. The source of her pain’s been eradicated and it doesn’t look like she’ll have another relapse. So he got to play the hero again, but he’s feeling far from it right now. C’mon,” he tilted his head at Elespeth. “Let’s walk. I’ve been cramped in the same position all night and I need to stretch out my human legs.” At her look of skepticism, he bellowed forth a laugh. “Don’t worry; I’m not gonna terrorize you. It wasn’t even you I was terrorizing. You just decided to get involved to defend my sister’s honor or some shit. Admirable. Misguided, but admirable. Now she’s nowhere to be found so hells, even I’ve got to admit I may have pushed her too far in the other direction. I have to give your magic an A for its dramatic timing, though. Wasn’t expecting it to manifest right on the spot! But--well--this brings me to the crux of the matter, here.”
He kicked his legs into a brisk walk, waiting for Elespeth to pick up her pace and follow him down the winding paths of the Night Garden, as she had similarly done, but with Bronwyn as her accompaniment. “Since magic entered the picture for you, you’ve been fucking lost. It fundamentally warped your perception of yourself to the point where you’ve relapsed to stage one. Y’know, when I found you holding a glass shard to your throat--that kind of stage one. ‘Course, you’ve learned from that little venture and won’t do it again--we hope--but now you’re flouncing around questioning your identity as if magic stripped away what you once had. The answer is that it didn’t. But whatever, I ain’t touching your crisis of self cuz you’re so stubbornly in the hole that watching your husband cry about losing you didn’t move you in the slightest. On the contrary, it emboldened you to force that change forward.” He whipped out his pipe and struck his tinder to light it. “But who is Elespeth Rigas but a sham, anyway? Do you even know who she is? Sounds like a fucking fantasy to me. If you wanna break it down, though, you’re not looking to change out of some need for personal growth.”
He took a few puffs from his pipe; the smoke streamed ahead of them, imitating the sinuous curves of the road they traveled. “You’re changing because you’re so afraid to fucking exist. That you don’t deserve to exist, not after what you’ve done, and this is the only way you can feel justified in staying alive--to change every damn thing about yourself until you’re unrecognizable. I mean, that’s why you have magic now, right? Because the universe bestowed it upon you and demanded that you change. Only then will you be able to look at yourself through the mirror again. And let me tell you, Elespeth, sans Tameris and sans Rigas--that’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard. But I’ve got a solution--well, not a solution, but you and I can both agree that you need to silence that overthinking brain of yours and remember what it’s actually like to live. You’re pretty piss-poor at it, if we’re honest. So,” he stretched one arm around the back of his head, “I’m gonna go out on a limb here and guess you haven’t been intimate with your beau since Stella D’Mare. Now before you say it’s not my business what you guys do in bed, it sorta is. Because if you’re unhappy, then Al’s unhappy, and if Al’s unhappy, these little freak-out sessions of his won’t stop and good people like Briery suffer the consequences. I stand by my statement that you’re making each other absolutely miserable. So fix it. You’ve got an enormous room to do the dirty so go ahead and smash each other silly. Do you need help? I wouldn’t be surprised if the two of you don’t remember the fundamentals. Luckily, I’ve got your back.” He patted her back for good measure. “As a professional in the art, there’s no limit to my expertise. If you need to rekindle that ‘spark,’ so to speak, then look no further. Of course, if you and Al can hack it on your own, more power to you. But if you find yourselves bereft of good morals and are desperate for a good time--and you’re ready to settle any beefs you have with me, then my offer still stands. Think about it, Elly. Whatever’ll save your marriage--and your splitting sanity.” With a parting wink, Hadwin disengaged from the conversation and wandered off in the opposite direction, enjoying the remains of his potent herb in headache-free silence.
And while he was on a roll…
Hadwin waited until evening, waited until Briery drifted off to sleep. He put on a warmer set of clothes, the same lavish outfit he’d donned when reuniting with the ringleader at Essleau’s formidable prison, and he headed to the stables. By Lilica’s latest ordinance, he was allowed to travel whenever he pleased and so had little trouble taking a Night steed through the tireless Forbanne and Dawn Guard checkpoints situated like concentric rings around the heart of Galeyn. Whipping the reins into a full gallop, Hadwin and his steed blitzed through the dark, frozen countryside, stopping only when they reached their destination. The farmhouse at the edge of Galeyn stood quiet, undisrupted, save for the flickering firelight that indicated an inhabitant. Dismounting from his steed, Hadwin waltzed over to the front door and peppered it with knocks.
“Ah, Vitali!” Hadwin remarked when the door swung open and the necromancer stood like a shadow the flames of the hearth had wrought to life. “Looking sharp as always. The blindfold really puts together the whole ensemble. So--it’s been a spell! As you’ve probably gathered, it’s just me tonight. No Tes. But hey, since the star-seer’s been enamored with your alchemist brother and coming around here less often, I figured you could use the company. So are you gonna let me in?”
Obligingly, the necromancer stepped aside and provided room for Hadwin’s entry. Immediately, he located the nearest chair and lounged upon it. “Now, this visit’s far from a pleasure trip, so there’s no need to put on the kettle and brew me some tea--unless you can dose it with a bit of rum. I’ve got an ambitious idea in mind, and it involves you, but of course I gotta clarity if you’re able to do it. You and your brother. We’ll talk payment later.”
He rocked on the back two legs of the chair, staring upward at the low wooden beams of the ceiling. “I recently got my hands on an alchemist stone. Figured I’d hold on to it a while; see if I could entice another alchemist to help me use it to straighten out Tes’s wayward magic. Though, y’see, I know shit about alchemy or what’s possible, even with that stone. But what I do know is that alchemists can specialize in the human body. Your bro’s certainly done wonders with Mrs. Rigas and her heart, and with that alchemist stone in play, it shouldn’t be impossible to, let’s say, create an entire body from spare parts. This is where you come in, necromancer.” He slammed all four legs of the chair on the floor and leaned forward with interest. “If there’s an able and willing body available, can a spirit that’s been dead for, say, a few months, be coaxed to enter an empty vessel created expressly for them? And if any of this is doable, would you be up for it?” He raised a bushy eyebrow. “Especially if that means you get to work with your bro?”
“Oh… of course. It makes sense that she’d be resting after an ordeal like that.” Immediately, the ex-knight felt foolish for assuming that Briery would be ready to take visitors so soon after being cut open and having her insides tampered with. It wasn’t until Hadwin said as much that Elespeth even realized that her intent to visit with the ringleader had not been borne of altruism; not entirely. It was a means to give her something to do, something other than wallow and overthink matters with her question, since missing Haraldur and his search party that morning. The decision was largely selfish in nature… so perhaps it was better she did not visit the recovering acrobat, in any case. Not until she could say for certain her intentions were genuine. “Right--well, let her know I stopped by. I’d be happy to see her when she is able to take visitors. I’m just happy that she could be helped; and Alster will be, too. I’ll be sure to tell him that she is recovering well when he wakes up.” If our paths even cross, she thought, but decided not to voice. It seems so seldom we even see one another, these days.
Just as she was about to turn away and return to the palace, the faoladh gestured and asked her to take a walk--which immediately triggered her suspicion. Hadwin was not one for idle chit-chat; not unless he wanted something or had a point to make. At the same time… when he did step onto his pedestal, she couldn’t deny that usually, whatever he had to say did turn out to be noteworthy in some respect. So, against her better judgement, she decided to follow.
“I didn’t feel as though you terrorized me; I’m just sorely disappointed that you wouldn’t accept your sister’s apology.” She clarified, staring down at her boots as she tread the iron-rich soil. “I realize it doesn’t mean anything to you. You didn’t grow up fostering a good rapport between you and your siblings… it is your prerogative whether or not you wish to have a relationship with them now. Personally, I would give anything to have my brothers or sister reach out to me the way Bronwyn did to you. But… even if they did not think I was dead, it is foolish at this point to think that I can ever have some form of a relationship with them ever again. I was upset because what you scorned was exactly what I yearned for, and…” Elespeth paused, and tucked a tress of hair behind her ear. “...I do like your sister. She has no history with me or concept of me, and she was one of the only people who did not approach me with caution or pity. For the short amount of time that we were amicable, it was… nice. Helpful, actually. To talk to someone with no concept of who I am--who I was, or the awful decisions I made. Someone with an objective ear. I respect that you don’t desire a relationship with her, but did you really have to have an outburst then and there? If you hadn’t incited a senseless fight, then maybe… maybe my magic would have manifested elsewhere, at another time. A safer time, so as not to completely frighten Bronwyn out of her skin.”
Though she looked away, it wasn’t hard to tell that Elespeth was a little crestfallen. That altercation had resonated perhaps more than Hadwin or anyone had realized; just as the potential to make a new connection, a new trusted acquaintance without any preconceptions of Elespeth Tameris or Elespeth Rigas, had meant more to her than she cared to admit. You couldn’t disappoint someone who hadn’t yet gotten to know you. Not like she’d disappointed Haraldur, Sigrid… Alster. “You were right; the two of us are a lot alike. We’d have gotten along, I think.” She shrugged one shoulder and flashed a half-smile. “I… tried to reach out to her after it happened. But she didn’t see me the same way anymore. At least, she did not see me as someone who was not a threat…” You’re a Rigas, now. Like you wanted to be. She hadn’t known Elespeth for long at all, and yet, she was the first to point out that the former knight was no longer even a shadow of her former self. That as soon as she had awoken from her month-long coma… she had really, truly become Elespeth Rigas.
Ever since Bronwyn had run, Elespeth had kept the issue close to her heart, not even confiding in Alster her struggle with this brand new, foreign aspect of herself. And when she finally had… it had pushed him away, just as she’d feared it would. That she wanted to become every inch his wife, Elespeth Rigas through and through, and he… he didn’t seem to want it. He wanted the woman in the mirror; he wanted Elespeth Tameris, but that woman was no more. Hadn’t existed for a year, now… and it broke her heart. Why couldn’t she see that she wanted to become better than Elespeth Tameris had ever been? Why was it so hard for him to perceive that she was embracing this change for a reason?
It didn’t matter that she hadn’t been vocal about her concerns, and the rock had been sitting in the pit of her stomach for a month; leave it to Hadwin to pick up on it, anyway. It was uncanny, how the faoladh had been able to read so much into what had been a brief interaction between her and Alster the night before. When she’d… lashed out at him, rather needlessly. Because she was frustrated that he was giving up on himself, just as much as he was frustrated that she was no longer the woman he’d married… “It isn’t just the magic, Hadwin. Yes, that might have been the catalyst, but… this has been a long time coming. Since before I met you or Alster, even. I haven’t been Elespeth Tameris for a very long time, and I am finally coming to terms with that, but no one seems to be able to perceive it as a good thing.” Elespeth huffed her frustration in a sigh. “Do you remember what you told me, once? Not to let that destructive voice--the one that told me to kill myself--win? Well, she stuck around. That voice, that woman in the mirror… except of late. She’s gone, because I’m no longer holding on to her as an ideal that I cannot achieve. She targeted Elespeth Tameris, but she cannot touch Elespeth Rigas, if I can… truly become her. This isn’t about being lost; it’s about survival. For finally looking ahead, getting back on my feet, and paving a future for myself. That is what this is, Hadwn. No, maybe not about personal growth--it is survival. So I am surviving, because I owe it to the people I care about to survive. Alster included. And I will continue to survive until it becomes living, again. Alster will understand, eventually. He’s just… been under a lot of pressure.”
She didn’t need solutions; you didn’t need a solution when there wasn’t a problem. She was on the right path--at least, that was what she had to believe, for the sake of her friends and family. Nonetheless, leave it to Hadwin to stick his nose where it didn’t belong… directly into her and Alster’s relationship. “Not that it is any of your business,” she prefaced, going red in the face, “but no. Not when I have been injured, suffered addiction, and suffered near heart-failure as a result. That has been my year, Hadwin, and Alster has spent his year picking up the pieces because of me. It hasn’t been long since I’ve been on my feet again, for good, and with everything that has occurred since we arrived in Galeyn--who has had time for intimacy? I mean, aside from you. But I’m assuming you could fuck in the middle of a battlefield and come out no worse for the wear.” He certainly didn’t deny it; and he didn’t stop there, but went as far as going on to explain that he could provide even further solutions to her and Alster’s ‘troubled marriage’--at which point Elespeth could only laugh.
“Are you… are you being serious?” The former knight all but exclaimed, stopping dead in her tracks. “I don’t know what you are implying, Hadwin, but what makes you think that either Alster or myself would ever be comfortable seeking advice from you on our private life?”
Of course, he probably wasn’t being serious, and didn’t expect her to take him seriously, either. The conversation was over, and he left the vicinity, while the newly-developed mage stood in confusion and… dread. He couldn’t be right; she and Alster had never lost their spark. And they certainly didn’t need help being intimate. It was just a matter of finding the time…
Well, she’d make sure they found that time--tonight.
Elespeth returned to their shared room just as Alster was finally up and dressing, though looking as tired as though he hadn’t rested at all. Feeling bad for how she had acted toward her husband the night before, the first thing she did was greet him with a kiss, which seemed to startle him, by the look of confusion that permeated his tired features. “I just went to visit Briery; she wasn’t available for visitors, but she’s survived, and according to Hadwin, you are in part to thank for that. Didn’t I tell you you were the man for that job?” Pulling back, she winked and added, “Don’t think your good deeds go unnoticed, Alster. In fact--meet me back here, tonight, after supper. I know you have work to do, as do I, but… believe me,” she grinned, “I’ll make it worth your while.”
After he wearily agreed, she pecked him on the cheek one last time, then left him to continue to dress as she departed in hopes of catching up to Haraldur, somehow. Ultimately, it was a fruitless effort, and she spent the majority of her day searching for signs of Rowen or Bronwyn completely on her own. It was a task so engulfing (and ultimately, a waste of time) that she not only missed out on dinner that evening, but nearly forgot her promise to Alster. Shortly after everyone else had supped, Elespeth managed to make it back to the palace, and hurried to her room, where she shed her protective (albeit far less attractive) tunic and leather armour, and traded it out for a cream-coloured, silk nightgown with a low neckline, which showed every curve, texture, and contour of her body. She had managed to put on weight in the past month, finally filling out all of the negative space that had otherwise left her bony and waiflike. While she still had yet to return to her body at its peak strength, she at least had the curves and muscle tone to look remotely desirable… as far as she thought.
Elespeth waited, then, on their bed. It had been quite some time since she had sincerely put out for want of intimacy, so when Alster saw that she was serious, and ready, maybe that would be enough to bridge the gap that had formed between them. Perhaps… but, she would never know, because he did not return to their room that night. Not for as long as she was awake, at least. Had he forgotten? Or had she missed him, perhaps just by moments, when he wandered into their room shortly after eating, to find she was not yet there?
Ultimately… it didn’t matter, she realized. Because if she was being honest with herself… she wasn’t really in the mood, either. Not with the heaviness that had settled in her chest since speaking with Hadwin that morning. What was the point of even being intimate if she knew, deep down, her heart wasn’t in it?
We’ll have other chances, she told herself as she finally gave up on waiting, crawled under the comforter, and drifted off in a fitful sleep. There will be better times… I’m not going to give up on us, Alster.
For a blind man, for all intents and purposes, Vitali had been getting on relatively well on his own since Tivia had been spending the majority of her time at the palace--and with his brother, if word on the wind spoke the truth. Since winter had descended on the kingdom of Galeyn, the crops had gone to sleep until the spring, and so he only need work with the preserves and non-perishables that Tivia had harvested in the autumn. He could cook well enough, knew his name around the small farmhouse, and had no difficulty finding his way back when he ventured off during the nights. He was not, however, one to expect visitors, and when there came a knock on his door that evening just as he was waking up, he felt half-inclined to ignore it. Tivia would not knock, after all, and Teselin would call out, and he really hadn’t much patience to deal with anyone else…
However, when that knocking failed to cease, he understood exactly who was at his door--the smell of dog on the wind was enough to tip him off if the annoying insistence wasn’t. “Hadwin. What brings you here--without my sister?” He raised a curious eyebrow. “Although, I am sure she has enough on her plate, of late, between her rescue missions and dealing with our brother who continues to be tortured by his past. Dare I ask how he is faring? I am not sure whether I should be worried or relieved that he has not come to call on me since you interfered with his mind.”
It wasn’t a matter of allowing him inside, so much as accepting that Hadwin was going to come in, one way or another. So the necromancer stepped aside to allow the man to state his business, which turned out to have nothing to do with Teselin, though also wasn’t completely devoid in interest toward Isidor. “Alchemist stones are not easy to come by. I’m going to assume this is the same one I gave to my brother when I offered to make it easier for him to heal Elespeth’s heart without needing to involve Alster. Obviously, he took me up on my gift, but not my offer. I’m also going to assume,” he folded his arms with a coy smile, “that Isidor did not give that to you, because he isn’t such an idiot. But how careless he decides to be with his possessions… well, that isn’t really my concern. Though I am curious as to what you’re doing here, talking to me, when the only person who can use that stone happens to be miles away, shaking up with Tivia Rigas--in every way that terms applies, if I am to believe whispers on the wind.”
Of course, Vitali had his suspicions before asking for clarification. Holding an alchemist stone, and coming to talk to a necromancer… it really all panned out to a single possibility. But Vitali waited for Hadwin to say it. “You are looking to have the silver acrobat resurrected, aren’t you? I cannot think of another death that occurred here would have you wanting to reverse it. You are invested in the ringleader of that traveling circus, who is herself very much invested in the loss of her fellow acrobat. And now, you have come to ask the feasibility of bringing the girl back, because you’ve realized how terribly your ringleader remained affected by the loss.”
Clasping his hands behind his back, Vitali paced the dark room, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “If you are asking me if it is feasible, then yes, faoladh, it is. My brother, as a Master Alchemist, is qualified to create a homunculus body for a soul to inhabit. And I am capable of pulling that soul back from wherever it currently resides. To be honest… I am not entirely sure that girl’s spirit has left this plane of existence. It is always the angry ones that stick around for the sake of causing trouble. However,”
Vitali turned to face the other man, who had made himself right at home in his favourite chair. “As much as I would love to show dear Isidor what a perfect adept team we would be, I am not sure you have a hope in hell of convincing him to partake in this little project--and that is even if you could afford my price. Didn’t you know that word on the street warns not to bargain with me?” He couldn’t help but chuckle at his own notoriety. “Just ask their highnesses, the royal Sorde. They’ll lambast my name; although, neither of them appears to regret the sacrifice they made. But I digress.” The necromancer shrugged his shoulders and rested his elbows behind him on a table.
“What you are asking is very possible. And I am by no means disinterested. Alas, I’m afraid my dear little brother would sooner cut off both of his arms and legs with a dull blade than work with the likes of me. So, if I am being honest, Hadwin… your greatest obstacle isn’t even my price. It is Isidor’s. If you can so the impossible get him to agree,” he whistled his disbelief, “then, hells… maybe I’ll even waive my fee. Depends on my mood, of course… but maybe.”
“Hey,” a little hardness appeared in Hadwin’s eyes, “I was walking away. Wasn’t gonna fight. Then you so desperately stood up for her to force some reconciliation between us that wasn’t damn likely to happen so I figured, might as well demonstrate why provoking me was a very bad idea. I’m aware of what you lost. You think about it a lot. Fear of loss and all. Still leaves an echo; an imprint. But I can’t have the kind of relationship you enjoyed back when everything was hunky-dory and you weren’t a fugitive on the run. And why?” He snorted a laugh; pipesmoke plumed out of his nostrils. “Because it was never civil between us. Bron was just having one of her Sight moments; saying good because her visions influence her to act good. None of it was sincere. See how quickly she turned on me?” His finger twisted in a spinning motion. “It’s a common pattern of hers. She struggles to follow the mold; to be good, but in doing so she chooses to ignore the shit things she’s done in the past. You don’t know the half of it. But whatever,” he dismissed with a shrug; a loud popping of joints followed. “You wanna be friends with her, that’s your prerogative. That’s if we can recover her from the temptation that drew her out of the Night Garden, which is gonna be a hard call. Cuz if Rowen’s got her...well, good luck getting her back. I’ll help you out; I’m not so heartless as to let this poorly-contrived union go on while I sit back and do nothing. Fat lot of good that did anyone last time. Despite my general distaste for Bron, she’s not an irredeemable fuck--like she thinks I am. A little blighter I can’t stand, yeah, but there’s promise in her. Can’t say I wasn’t chuffed to see her shaking with fear, though. I’m a petty bastard. But you already know that.”
When he segued over to his next--and intended--topic of discussion, he smiled ruefully, marveling at how his expectations of her denial translated so perfectly from his head to reality. Her self-awareness ranked in the negatives. She overshot, missed the target marked on the haybale in favor of the one sitting beside it, unable to readjust her sights or to consider her next move. But perhaps he didn’t get it; general madness aside, he never questioned his person. He was always Hadwin Kavanagh, for better or worse. Traumatic experiences might have shifted his reality, his perception of time, space, and relationships (and the corporeality of said relationships), but he always remained as a fixture in his own timeline. This schism between Elespeth Tameris and Elespeth Rigas played out as pretty damn nonsensical to him.
“You don’t wear denial well at all, Elespeth Whoever-you-are.” He tsked aloud. “It’s like burrs are snagged onto your coat and you don’t even see ‘em, so you can’t pluck ‘em out. So it doesn’t matter if I say, ‘survival isn’t the same as winning,’ because that advice is going to be batted aside like a cat playing with a dead mouse. But whatever; I like appealing to lost causes. Tell me,” he plucked a loose leaf off a low-hanging branch and brandished it like a playing card, “if you ‘survive’ a poker game, do you gain anything? No--you’re still losing. Might not be a catastrophic loss, but a loss is a loss all the same. You gotta learn how to win a few hands; only then will you realize, ‘well fuck, I’ve been playing this game wrong all along.’ You’re not an animal, Elly. You’re not in dire straits, fighting for scrap meat or stealing just to get by. You’re no longer on the run or dealing with a debilitating illness. Survival’s the wrong word. Let’s call a spade a spade; you just don’t know how to live with yourself. The voice went away cuz you denied it into oblivion. But you can’t build something out of nothing. Equivalent exchange or some shit? That’s what the alchemists say? So mark my words; the voice ain’t done with you, and you’re not done with it. So now this brings me to fucking.”
He dropped the leaf. A stiff breeze cleaned it off the pathway like an elemental gardener maintaining a clean, uncluttered path. “I’m always up for a rollicking good time. You said it; I’d fuck in the middle of a battlefield, enemies and allies alike. Whether my ‘offer’ is serious or not, I sure as hell won’t say ‘no’ if you ask me! But if you can manage on your own, go for it. If not, well--you know where you can find me. Either way, it’ll be a start. Cuz whatever you’re doing with this Elespeth Rigas persona ain’t genuine, and your husband can sniff it off you like a pile of rotten eggs. We’re past the point where talking out your feelings is gonna do anything. So why not get primal? It’ll be a much-needed release of your collective pent-up frustrations. It’s why I’m so unfazed by unnecessary baggage, yeah?” He grinned from ear to ear. “It’s cuz I get it on the regular.” On that final note, Hadwin sashayed away from Elespeth’s company in a winsome swagger most representative of his depthless sexual virility—and confidence.
In contrast to the faoladh’s shameless savior-faire, Alster Rigas was incapable of exhibiting an ounce of pride or self-efficacy. He was a drone delivering pollen to the hive, a tiny, negligible unit within the swarm. He could be replaced and the hive wouldn’t suffer. His use to Briery was circumstantial, a string of specific factors and symptoms that weren’t likely to manifest in another patient. The superior method of healing fell to the energies of the Night Garden, to Elias, hyper-focused and dedicated to his vocation, to Daphni and--despite his claims to the contrary--to Isidor. No one needed him anymore. Not really. Consigned to back-up, he straddled the fringes of usefulness as a worst-case-scenario. When nothing else would do, only then would people call upon him to close the gaps with his magic.
His relationships with people also remained on shaky ground. Isidor despised him, as did Elias. And Elespeth…
He couldn’t get through to her. He didn’t know how to reconnect, or what to do. He upset her terribly. His presence only seemed to agitate her. He resisted her change to become Elespeth Rigas; he hurt her. He welcomed her change so long as it would pave the path to her future happiness; he hurt her. Agreeableness hurt her. Helpfulness hurt her. Weakness hurt her. Holding strong did nothing. And falling apart...had made everything much worse.
He hadn’t been awake for long (if half-consciousness could be considered as “wakefulness”), when Elespeth entered their shared chambers while he was buttoning up his tunic. Bobbing his head to bid her a silent ‘good morning,’ he didn’t expect such a spirited kiss! It was done out of guilt, he reasoned. She feels bad for yesterday. That’s all…
“That’s good to hear. Really, it is.” He scrambled together a smile. “After all the grief I caused, I’m glad I was able to mitigate some of it by reaching the sanctuary with time to spare. It could have gone disastrously--and fault would’ve rested squarely on my shoulders.” He lowered his organic hand, still trembling out of weakness and exhaustion. “It’s not a good deed, Elespeth. You were there; Hadwin gut-punched me into my senses. I suppose he’s good for something. Believe me, I don’t deserve anything. You don’t have to wait up for me tonight. I don’t know how long I’ll be. As is, I’ve given myself a late start by oversleeping. Chara will have my head.”
True enough, he did not go to their chambers after supper. He did not lie about his workload; affairs at the D’Marian village kept him busy enough. By the time he arrived at the palace that evening, too spent to partake in supper, he considered returning to his chambers, his interests ever-so-slightly piqued as to what surprises Elespeth had in mind for him. But in the end…
No, I don’t deserve any kindness. Not when I’ve failed you, and continue to fail you.
Shoulders weighed down in despair, Alster changed course to the now-empty dining hall and partook, alone, in a bottle of wine.
Meanwhile, at the farmhouse, Hadwin was enjoying Vitali’s reluctant hospitality by occupying his favorite chair and lighting up a pipe for good measure. “Oh, your bro’s doing just fine. No longer as spineless and mild-mannered as before. Doesn’t sputter or mince his words as much as he used to. He stands up for himself and he gets shit done. You should’ve seen how he railed off on Alster yesterday. I mean, he did deserve it. It’s exactly what he needed. He’s resolving not to let the world beat him down cuz he’s got work to do, and he’ll do it out of penance for his past ‘sins’ or whatever. ‘Course, he’s a productivity machine because it distracts him from the existential terror of memories he relives and remembers every night, but the barrage will settle down, eventually. He’s marked me as enemy number one, naturally, but he’s got Tivia smitten, so I see my meddling as a favor to him and his confidence. He’s going places, that one. Damaged as all get out now, but who isn’t?”
His swirls of pipesmoke spiraled upwards, but settled as a haze upon the ceiling. Unlike the hearth fire, it did not escape from the chimney, choosing instead to linger like an unwanted guest. Apt analogy...but he wouldn’t be unwanted for long, if his offer turned Vitali’s interest. “Not like he was itching to use that stone for any reason, but hey, I saw it on the floor so finder’s keepers. He’s demanding I give it back, and I might, as a gesture of good-will, but it’s also predicated on if this proposal of mine can be done without calling upon its roulette-wheel of energies. Anyway, you’ve got it right.” He bounded out of the seat and invited Vitali to reclaim his rightful spot. “I’m an easy read, considering my history with the Links--and y’know, the fact that my sister killed ‘er just to spite me. Tryin’ to make amends, here. Not surprised her angry spirit’s still flitting about. Really living up to her name as the ‘silver fairy’--cuz you really don’t wanna mess with one once they’ve been scorned. But if you say this is all doable,” he strutted towards the fire, emptying out the smoldering contents of his pipe into its inviting maw, “then leave the rest to me. Especially if it’ll waive your hefty fee. You forget I’ve got Tes on my side. The two of them are on the outs but they’re so desperate to bury the hatchet. They’re both guilty for how they behaved towards each other. Chances are if it’s Tes making the request, Isidor will bite. We appeal to the side of him who wants to use his alchemy to repent and better a life--or in this case, revive a life. And for that, I also have our intrepid ringleader, Briery Frealy, who could put on a show—really get those heartstrings buzzing. Wouldn’t even be an act. To complete this trifecta--well, Cwenha was Al’s friend. Till this day, he still laments not being there for her--cuz, y’see, he was with you and Isidor when the murder took place. There’s also a Forbanne guard who’s grown quite fond of her. He’d be floored to catch wind of what we have in store for his dear friend. So, I ask you; with so many people advocating for her revival, will he really be able to say ‘no’?”
With the stirrings of a plan more or less in the works, Hadwin did not, as he claimed, stay to keep Vitali company—much to his relief. The faoladh knew people appreciated him best in small spoonfuls. Too much and they were bound to choke on the viscous syrup of his unending rhetoric. Bidding the necromancer a hearty farewell, he departed with his signature door slam and rode his steed on a return trip to the palace. En route to the sanctuary from the stables, he opted for a different route through the corridors, one that took him past the dining hall—and into the scent range of Alster Rigas.
Through the open door, he espied the distraught Rigas Lord clutching a bottle of wine and muttering to himself, completely heedless of his surroundings. He didn’t notice the addition of company until it sat beside him and spoke. “Rare to see you driven to the bottle. But when it happens, believe me, it’s time to start paying attention. You strike me as the type who drinks to escape.”
Alster, startled by the intrusion, propped up his heavy head with his arm and pivoted it in Hadwin’s direction. “Why do you care? I thought you take some sick pleasure in seeing people at their worst.”
“You’re not wrong. But what I love even more than that is sticking my neck in other peoples’ business to tell them shit they should already know.”
“So then,” Alster waggled his steel hand for Hadwin to continue, “please dispense your sage wisdom. Scare me to death, if it pleases you. Don’t let me stand in the way of your good time.”
“First off,” Hadwin slid the bottle out of his reach, “you’re gonna need help finishing this. Your reputation as a lightweight is legendary among the Links.” Rearing back his head, he took a long, inviting swig of the wine. “Ok, so I’ll be blunt—but it’s not like I didn’t say this a day ago so there’s no need to act so scandalized. You ever gonna fuck your wife?”
Alster released a cross between a moan and an angry grunt. “Not this again. Why does it matter to you?!”
“Didn’t I already admit my hobby of meddling in affairs that aren’t mine?”
“I don’t need to be reminded. I know,” he said, in a demoralizing, resigned whisper. It was pointless to evade detection from the person who could see your fears. Might as well own them, and confide in the unlikeliest, most unsympathetic source. “I’ve wanted to, so badly, but between our recovery in the sanctuary and later, the discovery of her magic...our dynamic has changed. It’s changed and I’m afraid...of the change. And I’ve been so, so tired. Tired with worry. Tired from trying so hard for so little. I—“ tears welled beneath his heavy eyelids. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be strong. There’s nothing left in me, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I can’t be helpful.”
Hadwin returned the bottle to its original owner, who had devolved into tears. “You really do need this. Drink away; soak up your temporary fix. Get yourself out of the weepy stage. But,” his eyes glimmered with a touch of mischief, “what if I told you there’s a better way to ease your burdens?”
The faoladh’s words served their intended effect, albeit by snapping Alster in a different course of action. Motivated by rejecting Hadwin’s perverted means to prey on his vulnerabilities and worming into his and Elespeth’s bedroom, the Rigas Lord awoke the next morning, hungover and bleary-eyed, but determined to prove the presumptuous wolf-man wrong. We don’t need your ‘help.’ I can satisfy my wife just fine, without a third party for assistance.
“Elespeth,” he shook his long-suffering wife awake. She did not require much jostling before her eyes slid open in silent concern. He must have looked like a wreck! “I’m sorry to disturb you at this hour. And—and I’m sorry about last night. But tonight—we could have a go of it tonight, if you’d like.” He caught her lips into his mouth; it was a sloppy, uncoordinated kiss. He cringed at the attempt. “It’s been so long since I’ve had you, El. We need this. I want to make you happy. Please...let me do this for you.”
Unlike Alster, Elespeth was beginning to come to terms with her own denial and recognize that Hadwin was, infuriatingly, right--at least, as far as his assessment of the trouble in her and Master's relationship extended. Something had changed between them, in the months… no, in the year since they'd departed Stella D'Mare. And it was her fault. None of this had anything to do with Alster's behaviour; bless her husband, anything and everything he had done had only been to accommodate the metamorphosis of his ever-changing wife. First with the injuries she'd sustained, to when he fought Solving, and then with her long road of recovery from her addiction… Her identity crisis. Her heart. And now, her magic. In her struggle to come to terms with the ever-changing condition of her body and spirit, and her struggles to cope with the fact she was no longer the woman she had been when she'd met Alster, so, too, had Alster been forced to adapt in accommodation to those changes. Everything that was making him miserable now inevitably stemmed from decisions that she had made, and now… Now, she didn't know what to do.
The former knight's sleep was restless without Alster's presence, but it wouldn't have been any different had she not had the massive bed all to herself. If it wasn't the magic vibrating in her veins keeping her awake, it was her thoughts--just as Hadwin had said. Elespeth Rigas had settled too far into her own head to properly see the needs of the people around her, and the more she tried to reach out where she felt it matter, the more damage she seemed to cause. What did she have to do to make things better? To function as a capable human being, herself, and no longer be such a burden to her family and friends? The more she tried to fix it, the worse she muddled it, and the worse Alster became. He was hurting so much, and not only was she unable to fix it, but she worsened it, and continued to watch his heart fall as the spark in his blue eyes dwindled. She was the cause of his pain--so how herself was she supposed to fix it if she couldn't even fix herself?!
Flitting in and out of restless dreaming, Elespeth finally opened her eyes to a sloppily-placed kiss on her mouth, and the scratchy, exhausted voice of her husband. "Alster…" She almost flinched; he looked terrible. Bags under his eyes, hair all array, and smelling strongly of sour wine… "We're you… have you been… drinking?" Was that is? Was that what she had reduced him to? Drinking away his woes? Alster never imbibed; he couldn't handle his alcohol, and he knew that. And yet…
"It's alright, Alster--you have nothing to apologize for," she sat up, and wiped the sleep from her eyes with the back of her hand. "You have a lot to do. As Rigas Lord, your work is important, and I… I understand how taxing it has been for you. If you're worrying about me, then don't." The former Atvanian placed a hand on his cheek. "You don't need to go out of your way for me when you are so tired, yourself. Take today off, get some actual rest… drink some water. Here, why don't you get into bed, and I'll go fetch some water…"
As she threw her legs over the side of the bed and pushed the covers off her body, she caught a glimpse of Alster's eyes in her peripheral vision. They radiated a defeat so palpable that she paused mid-stride to cross the room, and backpedaled on her decision almost as quickly as she'd made it. Lost… there was no other word for the expression on his face. And she had put it there: once again, she had put it there. Alster… when did I stop making you smile? What do I have to do?
"...alright, Alster. Of course we can." Returning to his side, she placed her hands on his shoulders and placed a kiss on his forehead. "There is nothing and no one I am obliged to, tonight; only you. We can have our well-deserved time together. It's been too long, I am well again… what is holding us back?" With a shaky smile, she kissed his cheek again and pulled away. "I'm going to attend Baldur's search party today. Will you please try to get some rest? For me?"
Leaving him to shut his eyes for a while, Elespeth dressed in her leathers, skins and tools, and met with Haraldur just outside the stables. "Haraldur… I apologize for my absence, yesterday. I admittedly slept too long, and couldn't catch up with you when I left later on…" Pink coloured her cheeks, and it was only in part due to the nip on the wind. The Eyraillian prince was not one to judge for a single one-day, but she had been striving to paint herself in a useful, dependable light to those who had previously only seen her as weak and sickly… How would she instill faith in them if she only occasionally lived up to what she promised? "I understand if you're disappointed. I won't let you down again."
Diligently, she prepped her horse with its saddle and reins and secured her sword behind her back. The winter wind whipped her hair in front of her face; a mild annoyance, but she couldn't bring herself to braid her growing hair anymore. It was a trait of Elespeth Tameris; not Elespeth Rigas. "...might I ask you something, Haraldur? Something personal? You are free not to answer, if it is too sensitive a matter… I haven't anyone else I can think to ask." She pulled her woolen cloak close around her neck and stared ahead at nothing in particular, though her troubled green eyes appeared fixed on a worrying scene that only she could see. "You and Vega… you've been through a lot, together. But you've survived, together. You married; you have a family. Children. Two homes, here and in Eyraille… how did she reach you, when you suffered your worst? And how did you reach her?"
Perhaps it was a futile question. What Vega and Haraldur had endured and come through as lovers was an entirely different demon than what she and Alster faced. They'd persevered; they wouldn't let go of the lifeline they'd extended to one another, no matter how far the other fell into despair. They had saved each other, again and again, and they'd survived. Whether or not their struggles had come to an end, they sought solutions together--not apart. And whatever their worries… they were not the cause of those worries for one another. They were, instead, each other's solution. So… why could it not be the same for her and for Alster? "I'm… I'm sorry, Haraldur. That wasn't appropriate for me to ask. It isn't any of my business." Elespeth blinked the warning of tears from her eyes. "Please forget I asked… let's depart. I'll make up for my absence yesterday and scout until after dusk."
True to her word, Elespeth dedicated herself to her work, that day. She didn't once mention Alster or allude to anything in her own personal life or Haraldur's, instead withdrawing into herself and mechanically projecting her skills as the warrior--or at least, the soldier--that she knew she could be. Not the disappointment that caused her husband and her allies so much trouble and turmoil… Hadwin was right, insofar as she had yet to get to know exactly who Elespeth Rigas really was. But at least she could say she knew who she wasn’t: Elespeth Tameris, the disappointment to her family and friends, both old and new. Not anymore… and for the better. You’ll see, Alster. Just give it time… give me time to show you.
While she had dedicated herself to her occupational task for the better part of the day, she did not make the same mistake as the day before. Elespeth did not put Alster and his request out of her mind. She did not forget his desperation, that broken look in his eyes for which she knew she alone had been responsible. Perhaps this was the crux of their problem: that they hadn’t spent time in one another’s arms for any extended period of time in almost a year, and because of that, they had lost touch with their sacred connection. But it wasn’t too late--not for them. It was never too late, and now that they were finally, finally on the same page, they could mutually mend the rift that had grown between them.
When at last dusk had settled on the horizon, and Haraldur determined it was time for him to return to Vega and the children, Elespeth did not waste any time hurrying to her room in anticipation of Alster’s arrival. It turned out that he had beaten her to the chase, and when she pushed open the heavy wooden door, he was already there, waiting for her. It was difficult to say whether he had gotten any rest since that morning, still sporting bags and shadows beneath his eyes, but she noticed that he had since cleaned himself up. His hair had been combed, he’d donned clothing that was not terribly rumpled, and he no longer portrayed that unsteady demeanor of someone who had succumbed to the seductive call of wine in lieu of acknowledging their own emotions. “You’re here.” She breathed the words as both a sigh of relief, as well as of… concern. It was strange to suddenly feel self-conscious in front of her own husband, who had already seen her at her worst and had continued to love her. “I was hoping I’d have time to change into something else… or at least bathe and run a comb through my hair. Not greet you with the vestiges of a day’s work still clinging to me…”
He didn’t care--at least, he said as much, reassuring her that he wanted her in any form he could get her, whether it was clad in leathers and furs from a day spent in the bitter cold of winter, or clad in sleek silks and lace, her cheeks tinted peek from reasons entirely unrelated to the cold. With much preamble at all, having made his desires and intentions clear that morning, Alster did not waste any time between the two of them, closing and sealing the distance with a kiss. No more excuses or shying away from one another, no more neglecting one another’s feelings out of some entitled sense of self-pity. Tonight, they would put the last year of their tortured relationship behind them, and pick up from a healthier place…
He fumbled with the buttons of her trousers while she struggled with the knots in his tunic as the both of them stumbled toward their bed. There was nothing graceful about the way they acted on their desire, in this desperate need to feel united again in a way that they hadn’t felt in quite some time. Grace and careful foreplay wasn’t what they needed right now. They could work out the kinks later, once they refamiliarized themselves with one another’s body… and there was nothing wrong with that. Nothing wrong with taking new first steps, particularly when this was the first time they would unite as Alster and Elespeth Rigas, husband and wife. So then, why…
Why did something feel so… wrong?
There was no virtue in dwelling on that feeling. What mattered was the two of them together, so that was what Elespeth chose to focus on: the feeling of his skin against hers, the heat of his mouth as he kissed her lips and jaw. The pressure of his body, skin to skin, after the both of them had clumsily shed their last article of clothing…
It’s not working. Something is wrong… but what? What is wrong?
He kissed her neck. She slid onto his lap and tangled her fingers in his hair. I should feel something. Why don’t I feel anything? I need to feel something!
Elespeth didn’t even realize she had completely stopped responding to Alster’s touch until he spoke her name, blue eyes full of deep concern. And maybe… just a little hurt. “Alster. I’m… I’m sorry. I…” What could she say? What the hell sort of excuse could anyone have for freezing up in the middle of sexual foreplay with their spouse?! “I don’t know what’s wrong. It’s not to do with you--I want you, I want this! There’s just… something is off. And it’s my fault. I just don’t know why. I don’t know how. But it’s nothing you’ve done wrong; it’s me."
There was no recovering from those words; not now that she’d uttered them. Whatever passion had hung between them in the air dissipated, replaced with something cold and uncomfortable, like the winter wind had followed her inside. “It’s… I must be tired. I worked hard today to compensate for my lack of productivity yesterday. It must be I’m not in the mindset that I thought I was…”
He didn’t buy it; and frankly, she wasn’t sure that she did, either. Hard work and long days had never dampened her sexual appetite before, but she didn’t have any other answer to offer aside from she just didn’t want what she’d thought she wanted.
“Please forgive me, Alster… I know you probably feel hurt right now, and that wasn’t my intent. I wanted this… I thought I wanted it. But… something is still not right with me.”
At a loss of anything else to say, or any feasible explanations, Elespeth moved off of Alster’s lap and picked her clothes up from the floor, and sadly replaced them on her body one article at a time. “I need… some fresh air. Just for a little while.” As if the day she’d spent in the cold hadn’t been enough, but she needed a reason for her hasty, embarrassing retreat. Elespeth Rigas was barely out the door, let alone out of the palace, before tears gathered in her eyes and trickled down her face.
So much for Elespeth Rigas never letting anyone down.
Elespeth’s inquiry was not an accusation or a smear on his character, but he flinched as though she had called him out on a bad habit. Catching the stale perfume of wine on his breath whenever he opened his mouth or spoke, there was no hiding his unfortunate involvement with the bottle, not when his drink-centric sojourns were too seldom to be seen as normal. He clutched his head with the cool metal of his prosthetic fingers and tried to emulate the charm of a child found playing in a mud-patch, but to no avail. There was nothing innocent about imbibing an intoxicating elixir to combat unrelenting melancholy and hopelessness.
“I drank very little,” he explained; a weak defense, considering his admittance to partaking in the first place. “Not even one full goblet.” What he failed to mention was that he would have consumed more, but out of disgust for Hadwin’s perverse proposition, he surrendered the bottle to the wolf-man and walked out of the dining hall. “Enough to dull the senses but not enough to push me out of commission the following morning. As you can see, I’m quite lively. Ready to work. I hope you forgive me, El; it’s not a habit that will stick. I just needed to,” his brow threatened to snap from the weight of his accumulated troubles, but he locked the pressure behind his eyes and his expression smoothed. “I’ve slighted a lot of people and I needed to take my mind off things for a little while. I’m a public figurehead and I can’t afford to diminish or to allow any D’Marians to see weakness in their leader. I feel better now. Truly, I do. In fact--”
He leaned in for another kiss, but she rebuffed his advances and settled out of bed, wandering as far from him as their expansive chambers allowed. Resolving not to take her withdrawal personally, he maintained his serene face, but it cracked when he thought she wasn’t looking. Slumping over the side of the bed, he must have drifted into a forlorn dimension far off into space, for when he shook back to full-awareness, Elespeth was beside him, all kisses and...what did she say? Was she in agreement with him? Quickly, he slapped on another smile and collected her in his arms, kneading at the growing muscles beneath her skin as a prelude to the sensual body-to-body contact they would make that night--where his fingers would tour more than just her arms. “I know we’re a sight, El. I’m tired--you’re tired. There will never be an ideal time for us. But all we can do is try, and I’m willing to, as long as it’s something you also want. So, for your sake,” he squeezed her shoulder, “I’ll rest a little longer before heading to the D’Marian village. And I’ll be certain to return before supper. Everything will be in order for us.” He kissed her, a little less sloppily, before releasing his arms and letting her free. “I’ll make sure of it.”
After she left their chambers, the prospect of their plans for the evening prevented him from sleep, but he rested his eyes all the same. The closest to excitement he’d experienced in some time, his heart whirred in his chest, equal parts nervous and anticipatory. We don’t need your meddling, Hadwin. I know Elespeth. I know her body. We’re bonded through multiple chains of the universe. Our hearts are weaved from the same fabric, our souls from the same star stuff. You can’t barge in between us and claim to know better. All we need is the opportunity...and it will all come together.
Leading with his most optimistic foot forward (which happened not to be the one possessing three-toes), he emerged from bed some hours later, still lightheaded and weary from a mix of last night’s ill-advised drinking and life in general, but far from defeated. He went about business as usual, working alongside D’Marian emissaries who had arrived from the village to report the latest news. With construction nearly complete, inhabitants of the village, including the Rigases, posed the same question to their Rigas Head as they had before, when they first broke ground several months ago. Especially pertinent now, considering the heavy pall of the sorceress threatening Galeyn and a murderess expressly targeting non-Galeynians, D’Marians were rightly afraid of stepping foot outside their brand new homes--not that the unfamiliar cold weather did their southern blood any favors. While the village was not without its own concentric rings of Forbanne and Dawn Guard checkpoints and security, the D’Marians did not trust muscle alone to protect them. They wanted a strong mage on the site. A caster. A Rigas. Him.
They needed him. And how could he resist the allure of people--the citizens of the once-grand Stella D’Mare, no less--needing him?
Yet, he hesitated. He delayed his answer to the emissaries, promising to supply it after giving more thought to his next steps. Honestly, he was too distracted to think logistics and strategy, not when the prospect of spending a long-awaited moment of intimacy with his wife kept invading his faculties of reason and basic decision-making.
He retired from his duties early that evening, as arranged, and supped light, making sure to drink plenty of water. With time to spare, he washed up in the bathhouse, scrubbing the accumulated days of detritus and exhaustion from his deprived body. On his return to his and Elespeth’s chambers, he combed and brushed his sandy hair, rubbed his light-bronze skin in oils, and dressed in a silken, royal-blue tunic, its wide-necked, unbuttoned opening exposing his bare, waxen chest. Popping a sprig of fresh mint into his mouth, he doused all the lanterns, leaving the roaring fireplace as the only illumination source in the sultrily-lit chamber.
He did not sit and wait long for Elespeth. She entered, bewildered by his efforts and guilty for her inability to reciprocate by bathing and attiring herself in the appropriate garb. “No, no, it’s fine,” he assured his wife, meeting her mid-stride with arms ready to welcome her into a loving embrace. “I had a little extra time, so I wanted to make certain the mood was perfect for us. Also,” his mouth squiggled into a sheepish smile, “we’ve established I’m a bit of a perfectionist. Besides, El, you always look lovely, whereas I’m a ragged thing in your company. Believe me, I needed the time to take care of myself.”
They did not bother with any further preamble, launching at each other with fingers clawed to tear away at buttons and buckles and layers of clothes. Alster had the onerous task of unlacing panels of leather from Elespeth’s arms and torso, a mission doomed to fail under the clumsy, uncoordinated leadership of his prosthetic hand. Paired with a mind that long-ago discarded complex problem-solving in favor of firing off synapses desiring touch and proximity and oneness, he did not get far on his own. Luckily, Elespeth picked up the slack, peeling off her outfit whilst he shrugged out of his tunic and trousers. Finally alleviated of their burdens, they bounded to the bed, a graceless heap of wrestling bodies arranging and rearranging in their bid for a position that felt most right, most natural. His exploratory left hand traveled the curves and divots of her body whilst his prosthetic arm anchored at the small of her back, not cold to the touch but buzzing with the warmth generated by his magic. As his hands roved for the sweet spot, his questing mouth peppered kisses along her neck, her ear, against the soft pillows of her plush mouth, focusing on areas she enjoyed in the past.
But something wasn’t...right. She did not respond. Counter to his expectations, the more he probed, the more she stiffened, closed-up, hardened. Every foray of fingers shriveled her in retreat, as though repulsed. Their undeniable magnetic attraction to each other had flipped its polarity at some point since their last venture. At this rate, two negative charges would never connect. Would never reunite.
“Is...is everything alright?” He pulled away, met her eyes, not dilated by desire but contracted by the lack of it, and swimming in guilt, fear, apology...numbness. “Did I hurt you? Tell me what I did wrong. I’ll-I’ll fix it, El. Whatever you want or need…”
There was nothing to fix. Nothing to be done. There was just...nothing. No spark could catch on wet tinder, damp wood. The remains of his enthusiasm, his optimism, the last vestiges of confidence that buoyed his steps and reinvigorated his hope...surrendered itself to the flames, and died.
I can’t reach you. No matter what I do...I can’t help you. I can’t make you happy.
It was his fault. If he hadn’t been so insistent on volunteering as Elespeth’s heart donor, if they only had chosen someone who did not possess magic…
Again, magic had forced its will on others. It forced itself on Elespeth and infected her with doubts so crippling, they convinced her to change every aspect of her current self to adapt and cope with the unwelcome guest that now encroached in her body. They forced her to become a Rigas, because in no other scenario could she reconcile possessing something so counter to her upbringing, her inheritance, her personhood. In desperation, she had no choice but to shed her old skin.
Are you so horrified by what you are, El? So horrified by your magic that you feel the need to create a new persona to accept it? Was it a mistake...to be together? You're coming apart, seam by seam, because of your associations...with me. With my magic.
“There is nothing to forgive,” he recovered, doing so before the vastness of his despairing inner black hole threatened to engulf his dimming, fading star. As Elespeth climbed off his lap, he settled on the edge of the bed, picking his tunic from off the floor--an excuse to hide his face, which had not yet caught up to the professionalism of his voice. “I can’t fault you for not being in the mood. I admit I might have set us up for a loss, trying so hard to make this perfect...as I tend to do. I realize my overzealousness put you under a lot of pressure. There will be other opportunities.” He pulled the silken tunic over his head and manufactured a smile of patience and understanding. “It’s alright, El. Take a walk, do what you need to do. I’ll be here when you return.”
The moment she exited their chambers, however, his face fell. He clutched his prosthesis to his chest, the painful rings of inflammation flaring into angry red puffs, as though also stung by the rejection. In those hours of aloneness, slumped forward, staring at the dying licks of flame, he made a difficult decision.
They need me at the D’Marian village. No one needs me here. It’s better this way. For now…
Come morning, Elespeth, who’d since returned to bed and resumed her position with her back facing away from her husband, was awakened by the faint murmurs of shuffling fabric and the periodic open and close of a wooden chest. When she rose to investigate, Alster was crouching at the foot of the bed, pressing out the wrinkles of a particularly rumpled outfit with a hiss of static popping out of his metal fingers. Caught in the middle of his suspicious chore of tidying-up and packing away his personal effects, he froze, mid-task, gazing at his wife guiltily. He knew he should have cast a silencing spell over her ears!
“Ah, yes, you’ve noticed that I’m packing my clothes,” he supplied, awkwardly, avoiding her gaze. There was no easy way to say it; better to tell her now, before he lost all nerve and absconded in the middle of the night. “This may come off as quite alarming to you, but please don’t be alarmed. I’m going to the D’Marian village. To live. They’ve wanted me there since the village broke ground and I’ve demurred for months. Obviously, in those months I’ve traveled out of Galeyn and been in the Night Garden in recovery, respectively, so my excuses were valid. But now I’m healthy...healthy enough,” he amended, “and I can’t keep shirking my duties to my people. I’m the Rigas Head. I should be there, protecting them from the threats that affect their quality of life. What this means for us...I,” he gnawed on his bottom lip, attention still fixed on the stubborn wrinkle slashing the fabric in twain like a bothersome shadow, “it will be better for you to stay here in the palace, to represent me in my absence and to continue to assist with Haraldur’s search party. Should I need to reach the palace for reasons of emergency, I can, through our connection, use my magic to cut through the air and be at your side instantaneously.” If our connection remains strong at all, his darkest thoughts mused. “As for your magical instruction--I haven’t forgotten, and Lysander has expressed interest in teaching you in my stead. Please be assured, Elespeth, I’ll be visiting the palace often. My business extends here, so my trips will be very frequent. We’ll still have opportunities together. Granted, they’ll be limited, but...this isn’t a long-term assignment.” In midst of the polish of his diplomatic, but emotionally-lacking and hence distant, discourse, he tacked on a smile. “I have to travel to the D’Marian village every day, as is. It’s exhausting. Living there will improve my hectic schedule and I’ll have more time for sleep, I daresay. It’s ultimately for the best for my health.”
After folding the last article of clothing into the chest, he closed and locked it with the key and carefully rose to his feet. “I’m not leaving right away. They’ll have to prepare my rooms at the village and the process of moving will take a few days, at most. We’ll have time to discuss my decision in detail if there’s anything pressing that needs saying. But for now,” he straightened the collar of his woolen tunic and pulled a winter cloak off a hook on the wall, “I must attend to my day’s affairs--as do you. Take care, Elespeth.” He left without another word, allowing Elespeth the time to process the weight of his words, and the echoes of his footfalls as they slowly distanced themselves from earshot. He was gone.
When Elespeth met up with the small gathering of soldiers at the palace entrance, Haraldur approached her first, his mouth turned dour and his brow crinkled in mild annoyance. He took her by the shoulders, carefully redirecting her attention from the company at his command, who were busily saddling their steeds with supplies. “Forgive me in advance,” he muttered into her ear. “This was not my idea.”
Before he could clarify what exactly he meant, an all-too grating voice chimed in from behind them. “C’mon, I know you’re talking shit behind my back. I said I’d help your search party and here I am. Couldn’t ask for a better hound to join in on your wild hunt.” Hadwin Kavanagh waltzed into the two-person huddle, smiling his infuriating smile. “I’m temporary. Just wanna see what the lot of you are doing so I can mock your techniques and suggest something better. They’re my sisters you’re looking for, after all.”
“You’re up front with me today, Elespeth,” Haraldur said helpfully. “And you,” he regarded the faoladh with a cool expression, “stay as a wolf. I prefer you that way.”
“Aye, aye, tree-man,” he saluted, fist to chest. Haraldur glared, said nothing, and retreated, peering over his shoulder for Elespeth to follow.
“Hold off a second, Elly.” Hadwin grabbed her arm, steadying her place. “I don’t like what I see,” he said, carefully scanning her eyes. “Worse than I thought. You can’t even do the deed. Your relationship’s too damaged. The connection you’re looking for’s not happening because he’s part of the old you, the part you’re trying to destroy. Old Elly goes and he goes. Literally, he’s going away, and you’re afraid it’s you who’s driving him out. Damn, ok,” he let forth an exasperated sigh, running fingers through his tousled hair. “My offer’s in earnest now. You need to freshen things up. Pump some life back into those pruned, desiccated gonads of yours. The two of you are thinking way too much and it’s seriously fucking up your game. So...consider me at your service. Believe me, the rate you’re going, you’re gonna need all the help you can get.”
Elespeth couldn’t say for exactly how long she wandered in the cold, that night. The bitter temperature of winter didn’t make much of a difference to her when she hadn’t felt anything from the moment she’d stepped into her and Alster’s shared bedroom, though she’d hoped that maybe it would shock some feeling into her. What is wrong with me? Why can’t I feel? I want to be with him… I know I do. But why won’t my body respond?! It could have been any number of things forcing that barrier between what her heart and body wanted. Fatigue, for example; she hadn’t slept well since inheriting her husband’s magic, often kept awake by that incessant, low buzz vibrating in her veins. Perhaps even stress, or the pressure of trying to maintain their connection when the both of them had allocated their attention between a number of things: for her, Alster and then Haraldur’s search party, and for him, her well-being and the state of his citizens’ well-being. But this was nothing they could not overcome. They had survived a war, together; they’d survived a journey apart. They’d even overcome certain death for one another, on multiple occasions. So this, whatever was jamming a wedge between them and interrupting the circuit of their infallible bond, it was nothing they could not overcome. They just needed to keep trying… She needed to keep trying. And she determined to do so.
Alster was fast asleep by the time she finally returned much later that evening, the fire in the hearth having dwindled to embers. Exhausted in her own right, the former knight barely had time to slip out of her daytime attire before falling into yet another fitful slumber, one which was interrupted at last just a few hours later, by the creaking sound of a chest opening and closing. Cracking her eyes open, the former knight rolled over to find Alster carefully removing clothes from the chest containing all of his personal attire. Perplexed, she sat up in bed and wiped the vestiges of sleep from her eyes. “Alster… is everything alright?”
Her husband did not hesitate to explain, though judging by his edge behaviour, whatever was amidst was not good news. Elespeth tried to be patient with him as he went over his plan of action, one that involved him… leaving Galeyn. Relocating to the D’Marian village whose construction he had been overseeing from afar for quite some time, now. While the decision did seem rather out of the blue, it was not a bad move to make, and she didn’t quite understand why he appeared to skittish about this revelation.
“That’s fine, Alster--in fact, a change of scenery might be good for us, to switch up the monotony of the palace. How soon do we leave?” Throwing her legs over the side of the bed, Elespeth ran her fingers through her mussed hair. “I can start packing right away; I don’t happen to own a good deal of worldly possessions as it stands, so it shouldn’t take long…”
She trailed off when her husband went into greater detail regarding the stipulations of his decision. He was leaving; that was his decision. But she… he intended for her not to follow. Alster wanted her to stay.
“Wait. So, you… you don’t want me to come with you? You want me to stay behind?” No. No no no… did this mean he was giving up? On her--on them? All because she had frozen up during a moment between them that should have been sweet and sensual? “Alster, I… to be honest, I don’t need to remain a part of Haraldur’s search party. It was something to keep me busy and to help reinstate my confidence in myself, but I’ve grown strong again, and I no longer require that as a buffer. Whatever needs to be done in the D’Marian village… I can help.”
There had to be some excuse that, if it would not convince him to stay, could at least convince him to bring her along. They had been growing apart for too long, now, and it was all her fault; she couldn’t allow them to simply give up and separate, altogether! But Alster had already thought ahead, enough to counter any excuses she could come up with. He wanted her to stay behind to represent him, as a link in case she needed to convey any information from afar, or if he needed to make a hasty return in case of an emergency. He had it all thought out; he’d probably thought about it through the night. And there was nothing she could say to convince him to change his mind. “You don’t… need to go and live so far away, Alster. There has to be another way. Why not assign a proxy, in your stead? Someone to keep in touch, someone you trust to make more menial decisions when you are not present? There is no need for you to uproot, and anyway… weren’t we going to work on training me in my magic?” She pasted on what she hoped looked like a smile. “My magic is your magic; not Lysander’s. As much as I am sure he means well, surely I cannot learn as efficiently from him as I could from you…”
But he wasn’t having any of it. Alster had made a decision, thought out the details, and that was that: there was no backpedaling. He didn’t stop packing his clothes, nor did he pause to give her much of an opportunity to offer alternatives to his plan. Elespeth had had her chance to reach her husband last night--and she had failed. And now… now, it was as if he had shut her out. Because remaining open meant that he would only continue to get hurt. And she would be the one to hurt him. “Alster… if this is because last night, I… I disappointed you terribly…” Disappointment was an understatement. She’d hurt him; she had taken what was left of his hope that they could feel something between one another, and dissolved it in her inability to connect with the person she loved the most. “We can try again. Give me one more chance. I wasn’t mentally prepared, when I should have been… and I choked. It’s just been so long that I… I can’t explain it. It’s like I forgot what to do, or how to feel, but it will come back to me. We can… we can figure it all out, together. But to do that, we need to be together… not apart. Don’t you agree?”
Another day, at another time, Alster might have heard her; but it was as if her words were falling on deaf ears. She’d had her chance--and she failed. Take care, Elespeth, was all he said before departing, leaving the former knight frozen in place in shock and confusion. They were falling apart; her marriage was falling apart, and she was to blame. Alster, all this time… all he had intended was to help. And he had tried so hard, and for so long, only for more and more issues to surface… it was only a matter of time before he would give up. And she couldn’t blame him, because she had no solution to offer.
With a sluggishness of one heavy of heart and suddenly very low in motivation, the Rigas lord’s wife pulled on her attire for the day, and forewent breakfast because by the time she managed to collect her thoughts and set her sights on a feasible goal that day, she was already late to meet up with Haraldur and the others at the palace entrance. When she arrived and met her longtime friend, who must have been awaiting her arrival, she all but flinched at the look of concern on his face. “I’m sorry--I’m so sorry, Haraldur. It was not my intention to be so unreliable, this week…”
When he took her by the shoulders, she expected a reprimand. Expected him to tell her that her tardiness was too much of a burden and liability to the search party, and that she would be better off applying herself elsewhere and with other tasks. But instead, the Forbanne commander presented her with an apology that she couldn’t quite fathom… that is, until Hadwin made his presence known, loud and unapologetic as always. “It’s fine. Much as I hate to admit it… we haven’t had much luck searching on our own. He knows the scents we’re looking for; really, no one is better qualified to pick up on Rowen or Bronwyn, if we come across their tracks.”
On the request that Hadwin remain a wolf since he was far more tolerable in that form, Haraldur headed to the front, where Elespeth meant to join him, but before she could follow, the resident faoladh caught her by the arm. “Not now, Hadwin. Not now.” She warned, taking a steadying breath to hold herself together. “Whatever you’ve got to nag at me about, now is not a good time…”
It shouldn’t have upset her that he could read each and every detail of the turmoil in her eyes like a book. He had already noted that something wasn’t right in her marriage, that things between her and Alster were slowly but surely breaking, and the longer they put off repairing it, the worse it became. Of course he could see it all… but it bothered her, all the same. To put words to her very private and personal issues. It was invasive and uncomfortable, and she didn’t have the tolerance for his prying right now. “Not a good time, Hadwin,” she seethed, and behind the stress mirrored in her verdant eyes was a lot of raw emotion that she was struggling to keep at bay. “I have a job to do right now; and so do you, if you mean to help us out. So please shift into a wolf, because I am in agreement with Haraldur right now in that I’m not sure I can tolerate you in any other form.”
Leaving no room for argument, Elespeth turned and joined Haraldur at the head of the search party, and as soon as Hadwin complied and shifted into his wolf skin, the search for his sisters resumed. At the end of the day, their luck was no better than before; here and there, a scent popped up, but both wolf women must have been covering their trail--or Locque had done it for them, as these findings always turned out to be dead ends. They were no closer to tracking down the rogue wolves or the sorceress than they had been before: the suspects continued to touch down in Galeyn whenever they saw fit, and left hardly a trace of their presence. Ahead of the game, just as before… they were spinning their wheels. And who was Elespeth trying to kid? What had she actually contributed to this cause since she had insisted on being a part of it? If I had spent this time trying to reconnect with Alster… if I hadn’t wasted my time in places where I cannot make a difference, maybe I’d have had something left to fix my marriage. Maybe… I’d have convinced Alster not to give up on us.
“Tomorrow. You can count on me to be here.” All the same, she had made a commitment to Haraldur and this search party, and if Alster was no longer open to listening… then there was nothing else she could do but continue to move forward, Even if there was nothing of consequence she could bring to the table. “Take care, Haraldur. I’ll see you then.”
Bidding her friend and ally goodnight for the evening, Elespeth did not make her way to supper. She didn’t have the appetite, and knew that she would only find an empty room if she returned to the palace, which would plunge her into a despair she was not ready to acknowledge. But it turned out that just because she was intent in avoiding the negative feelings of letting her husband down, and that hopelessness of watching her marriage come apart at the seams, others were not so content and watch destruction unfold. As it turned out, Hadwin was not finished with her, she quickly learned as in a matter of moments, the faoladh had shifted again, donned his winter clothes, and fallen into step beside her, keen on picking up where they had left off that morning.
“Yes, Hadwin; I’m miserable. I cannot connect with my husband anymore, and for that, he has given up on me. Given up on us, and I’m to blame. Is that what you want to hear? Will you take satisfaction in knowing that just when I thought things could be right again, I’ve gone and messed it up without any idea as to how I did it?” The careful resolve Elespeth had been maintaining all day long finally began to fissure; there was no keeping up the facade when faced with a pain she couldn’t continue to deny. “If vulnerable and broken is what you want, then congratulations, you’ve found it. Take a good look, because I don’t wear it often.” Not often, perhaps, but even the composed Elespeth Rigas was not impervious to shattering from the inside out when the vitality of her marriage was on the line. Tears gathered in her eyes, and she irately wiped them away. “Yes, Alster is leaving, and I cannot talk him out of it. I tried, but I fucked up, alright? I fucked up when he reached for me, and I froze. I forgot how to love him the way he deserves to be loved… because I don’t fucking feel anything, anymore. Just a moment together, and it might have been what we needed to repair all of the damage I’ve done, but I couldn’t even do that. Is that the confession you’re looking for? That I can’t even make love to my husband because I don’t feel him? Because I’ve lost our connection, and no matter how hard I look, I cannot find it? I won’t deny you taking satisfaction in being right. Someone might as well get some satisfaction out of this.”
There was no stopping the tears, now. They flowed down her cheeks and chilled her skin, absorbing into the wool of her winter cloak. Elespeth had reached a point where she couldn’t possibly feel more miserable… meaning that Hadwin really couldn’t make her feel any worse. What took her by surprise, however, was the faoladh’s lack of gloating. He knew he was right, but he didn’t rub it in. On the contrary, he listened, and he seemed… well, if she didn’t know better, she might have assumed he was genuinely concerned. He might have had his reasons, but it was impossible to deny he did want to help. “With all due respect, Hadwin… how the hell do you think you can help us? What exactly do you propose?” A part of her was almost afraid to ask. When it came to Hadwin, solutions were not necessarily palatable. “Listen, I know you mean well. You do have it in you to be genuine. I know this because of what you’ve done for Teselin and for Briery. But for all your experience in the bedroom, I don’t know how you deign to think you can help me and Alster. I broke us; so it’s up to me to fix us.”
Wiping warm tears from her eyelashes before they could freeze in the dropping temperature, the former knight hugged her cloak around her body. “I’ll just… have to convince him to try again. I’ll try harder. Chara has a way of making me look desirable with pigments on my eyes and lips; and if I still feel nothing, I’ll pretend like I do. I’ll pretend for as long as it takes to convince him to stay… to convince him it’s worth giving us another chance.”
“Psh--since when is it ever a ‘good time’? When it comes to news you don’t wanna hear, there’s just ‘bad timing’ and ‘worse timing.’ Better to have it bad than flat-out dire--then there’s shit-all you can do.” All platitudes aside, Hadwin did not raise any further argument and obediently enlisted his aid as the tolerable wolf to which everyone lauded as an improvement over the garrulous (but immensely more entertaining) shit-spewer and his well-endowed tongue. But contrary to his comments to Elespeth, comments that were not meant to harangue the misfortunate but were, in fact, well-meaning, the faoladh had not joined the party for good, cheap fun. Against probability, Hadwin had squirmed by with an unlikely handful of wins. With Teselin’s help (and their unwitting sacrifice of thousands), he recovered his life and sanity--to the best of his discernment, at least. Further, he jilted an entire city’s elite class to achieve a feat thought impossible: pardoning a prisoner from an impregnable fortress designed to capitalize on permanent residency. Last--as tidings came bundled in threes--they arrived at the Night Garden in time to address Briery’s debilitating condition. While complications mucked up the process--Alster’s miniature crisis was more a surface-level annoyance now that all was said and done--the ringleader was well on her way to a full recovery. And, if he continued to play his cards just right, Cwenha could rejoin the ranks of the Missing Links, alive and approximating ‘well,’ which was all one could ask from someone of her cheerful disposition. In the meantime, while he gathered the resources necessary to lobby for the cygnet’s revival, he might as well keep his forward momentum and make useful in other avenues as well; in particular, where his sisters were concerned. He’d lend a hand in restoring Alster and Elespeth’s marriage, too. Why not?
All things considered, Hadwin was feeling charitable. I said I’d clean house, Tes, and I meant it.
As a wolf, the faoladh spent the day diligently checking for tracks and scents. Of the remnants of activity he uncovered, the evidence remained inconclusive. Just as Haraldur had pointed out to Elespeth during their first foray into the woods together, it meant nothing to cover the barest hint of tracks if the sorceress in question could cast fog and spirit away her charges without a trace. Or watch from afar, with none the wiser--save for a predator with impeccable senses.
Upon their return to the palace, Hadwin padded behind a series of parked carriages, reassumed his human form, and donned the clothes a Forbanne laid out for him beneath the wheels. As he emerged, hair in disarray, dirt streaks across his face and hands, he ‘presented’ his report to Haraldur, carrying his voice in a rumbling whisper. “Cutting to the chase, here. They’re watching us. I can sense them. Sensation’s all scratchy, all wrong, like they’re using the air like a curtain and moving it aside to watch through an opening. They know I can sense them but fuck it if they care. They’ve got as at an impasse. We can’t catch smoke, and we can’t snuff the source if we don’t know which direction it’s wafting. The tracks are intentional, too carefully planted to be slip-ups. They’re leading us in circles. A fun little game, to keep you occupied. So in sum: yeah, what you’re doing’s a wasted effort--as I’ve told you from the get-go, might I add. They’ll make a move when they’re good and ready. Or if you wanna force their hand early, there’s always the option, but you’re gonna need bait. Don’t think any of you are ready for a confrontation, besides. Even if it’s on your own terms. Cuz it won’t be for long. Well,” he cracked his neck from side to side, “that’s my take of it, ‘Commander Sorde.’ It’s a waiting game, from what I see. Rowen doesn’t wanna lose again, so she’s stepping lightly, but getting her jollies by teasingly herding you around like a flock of dumbass sheep over a cliff. Now you could dismantle the search parties and see what happens next. Maybe she’ll get bored and lash out--attack. Make a scene. Unless you want her to stay amused and distracted by your antics, then by all means--continue with what you’re doing. Depends on how safe you want to play it.”
“Huh.” Haraldur handed the reins of his steed to a stablehand and headed to the entranceway. “So you do have it in you to be useful, after all.”
“Oh Harry, Harry. My value’s not measured by how useful I am to any given person. But coming from you,” he clapped the commander’s shoulder chummily, “I’ll take that as a compliment of the highest order. Keep charming me the way you’re doing and maybe I’ll let your wee saplings ride around on my back for a spell. I’ve got a great disposition as a wolf, as you saw first-hand. I’m great with kiddos. They’ll fucking love me.” Surprised he wasn’t punted away prematurely, Hadwin disengaged from the Eyraillian prince and bounded ahead of him, setting his sights on the woman who (almost) evaded his attention. But there were no buts or exaggerations about gifting his services to Elespeth and Alster, a couple most worthy of his uncanny insights and out-of-the-box problem-solving. From his outsider’s perspective, the issue was so glaringly simple to tackle. Especially for a connoisseur of sex and all its related pleasures.
Naturally fleet of foot, Hadwin caught up to Elespeth in moments, readjusting his pace to match her dispirited and somber funeral march. “Is now a ‘better’ time to address your open wound, or are we gonna postpone dressing it up til the damn thing gets infected and oozes out pus?” To his approval, the former knight, former Tameris, former person responded to his summons and finally gave him more to work with than denial--though the denial hadn’t yet diminished, either. “Excuse me--you don’t wear it often? That supposed to be a joke?” He chuckled low in his throat. “Must’ve been talking to a different Elly this whole time, then. I haven’t seen anything else but vulnerable and broken since I’ve known you. It’s gotten to the point where I’m raring to see something different. You may think I’m some sadist who’s only satisfied when everyone around me’s low as low can be, and yeah, I get like that sometimes.” He blew out a stream of air and a curl of hot vapor emerged like smoke from a pipe. “But for the most part, I prefer variety. Too much misery and glumness is a fucking downer. And seeing as how I make people my profession, it’s not good for business in the long-term. I don’t like to kick you when you’re down. Unless you’re Bronwyn. Or you have what’s coming to you.”
When the essence of tears caught not only beneath her eyes, but also in her voice, bending the waves into a timorous, trembling frequency, he raised an intrigued eyebrow. “Well, you’re right about one thing. You don’t wear this face often.” Placing a hand on the small of her back, he guided her inside the palace, out of the cold and down a smaller, less peopled hallway, better for dispensing tears without alarming others in the vicinity. “Now it’s time to show you a side of me that doesn’t get a lot of sun exposure. It’s all pale and sickly and deficient in a lot of ways. But I figure it’s necessary to show and tell. Otherwise, you won’t know where I’m coming from and go on believing I’m doing this for a good time and nothing more.” He scrubbed his hands together, dislodging the residual motes of dirt that clung to his skin. “When Tes found me, I was so gone, I couldn’t feel anything, either. Not even her. And bless ‘er big, beautiful heart, she tried so hard to reach me. And yeah,” he rolled his eyes heavenward, “so did Bronwyn, to an extent. It wasn’t enough. I got away from them, and I jumped off the first cliff I saw, because I knew, in that moment, I’d at least feel the air leave my lungs, or my body crush against the rocks and plunge into the icy waters. That was something guaranteed. So what brought me back, you ask? What literally dragged me off the edge? Well, that goes without saying, but I’ll tell you this much.” He closed his eyes for a moment, his confident gait faltering. Apelrade and its fate never left his consciousness--or his nightmares. “It was pure, unadulterated chaos. Or what I’d like to call--the element of surprise. How do you combat a lack of feeling, a lack of connection? By introducing the unexpected; it’ll dislodge you from the destructive rubbish piling up inside your head cuz you’ll have no choice but to address the foreign invader. In this example, I’m the foreign invader.”
He opened his eyes, and they flashed liquid gold. “I’m gonna snap you out of it, Elespeth. Reset your connection and ground you to this world. But not through fear. Through pleasure. Get you into a lather so thick you’ll be coughing up suds and begging to be rinsed-off. That’s when your hubby will step in: to finish the job. Think of me as a stepping stone; a leg up. Sometimes we need a little push from the outside to get those stubborn wheels moving. Believe you me, I’ve been introduced to the bedrooms of many a married couple for the express purpose of spicing things up when all’s gone stale and stagnant. So I know what I’m doing. And hey,” he smiled disarmingly, “there’s no shame seeking out a third-party, especially when things have gotten so desperate that your husband’s choosing a life of abstinence through isolation and you wanna fake it--like he won’t see through your guise at all. The man’s too attuned to you, Elly; he’ll peel off your guise in a flat second. There's no pretending with him."
"So," he stretched his arms out in front of him, ramming his transformed joints back into place, "sure, it’ll take Al some convincing to agree to this little get-together. I tried the other night, when he was on his ass tryin’ to finish an entire bottle of wine. But that’s where you’ll come in. You’ve still got a great deal of power over him, believe it or not. He’ll listen to you. ‘Course, these next steps are predicated on one factor: you gotta agree. You agree and we’re on board. If not, then,” he threw his dirt-caked hands up into a shrug, “well, that’s that. I’ll give you some time to mull it over. I’ll be at the sanctuary with Brie--when you’re ready to give me an answer. Well,” he squinted at his fingers, “after I bathe good n’ proper. Despite my associations with the seedy underbelly of society, I’m quite hygienic, thank you very much. I may be scum but it doesn’t mean I gotta smell like it. Hope you hold up till the next time I see you, Elly!” And with a hearty wave of farewell, he clamored out of the glum warrior’s company in the self-assured clip that so favored him. He planted the seed. Now, he only needed to wait.
Similarly to Elespeth, Alster spent his day going through the motions, pretending to function as a halfway composed human being capable of impartial decision-making and cognizant thought. While he managed to fool his staff and the council for the most part, he could not fool himself. Nor could he still the barrage of thoughts that flooded his consciousness whenever he was given a moment to idle. I’m not ok. We’re not ok. But with some time apart...maybe, we can be. I’m bringing out the worst in you El. No--I am the worst in you. Your magic, your Rigas name--they’ve all made you doubt who you are. And who did you inherit these identifiers you’ve no choice but to accept?
From me.
You don’t actually want them. You’ve convinced yourself that you do, because if you don’t, then you’re rejecting me. But you’ve already rejected me, El. By rejecting yourself, you reject me.
And there’s nothing I can do but give you space and hope that one day...you’ll be happy.
Then I’ll be happy, too.
Having no appetite for supper, he circumvented the dining hall altogether and returned to his and Elespeth’s chambers, bracing himself for wearing pleasantries and tip-toeing around his wife for the next several evenings until his move. Civility was best; he didn’t want to stir an argument or cause her any further upset by associating emotion with his decision to transfer. His reasons for going to the D’Marian Village were manifold, after all. She was but one reason. The catalyst, but one reason, nonetheless. Keep things amicable, but sterile, he instructed himself carefully as he opened the door to find her perched on the bed, as though eagerly awaiting his arrival.
“Elespeth. Good evening. How was your day?” He brushed on a smile and pulled off his winter outerwear to hang beside the door. “I take it nothing of note occurred while scouting with Haraldur’s party; otherwise, I’d have caught wind of it. Safe to say nothing of interest took place on my end, either, save for my moving arrangements, which are in order. I,” he sat on the bed and took her hands in his, “I’m sorry that I came off so aloof this morning, El. This...this isn’t about what happened between us, last night. It’s not that we couldn’t...you know. That’s not why I’m leaving. One night of attempted and failed intimacy is not enough to remove me from your life for good. I understand you’ve been having trouble connecting for a while, now, and it’s best you’re given the opportunities to come to terms with yourself in my absence. I’ll only compound the problem if I stay.” It kills me to see you suffer so much, he thought, but chose not to say aloud. “This will be the breath of fresh air that we both need. The D’Marian Village needs me and I need a purpose. I’m not a healer; I don’t belong here. And you--I won’t ask you to leave behind friends, allies, and your home at the palace to readjust to a new village among people you scarcely know. Not if the only reason you want to follow is because of me.” He met her eyes, pools of such reflective green sorrow, he could see himself drowning in them. Gasping for air, for a foothold. He held his breath, extended his hand, and tenderly brushed a coil of hair behind her ear. “We’ll be fine. We always make our way back to each other, in the end.” But it’s different now. We always fought external circumstances to be together. I never agreed to fight you. So I won’t. I can’t...
In all the time she had known Hadwin, if someone had told Elespeth that one day she would not only be listening to the faoladh’s advice, but actually consider his offer, she’d have called them daft. Perhaps it was a mix of her despair, and the shapeshifter’s genuine offer to be of help, and she still couldn’t believe it… but she listened. For better or worse, she listened to what he had to say, and what he confided, knowing full well he didn’t have to tell her a damn thing about his own descent into dissociation and nothingness. Cwenha’s death had taken a toll on him, that much she’d known, but she hadn’t realized the extent it had on driving his own self-destruction. Teselin had brought him back with the chaos of her magic; what happened in Apelrade had not been a secret for quite some time, not since Alster had gotten wind of it. But if it had taken the destruction of an entire village just to reset the priorities in his muddled head… what would it take for her? To reset her sense of self, a sense of purpose in this world, and more importantly, the deep-seated connection between her and her husband? What would she need to destroy to get there?
Boundaries. If she understood him correctly… if she really understood what Hadwin was implying, then it would require not only her, but also Alster, to let go of everything about their private life that they held close to their chests. Because at this point, if they were unable to achieve intimacy alone, then they did require the help of a third party… and one that they were otherwise unlikely to turn to. If they were to accept Hadwin’s help, then that meant they would have to forgive all past transgressions that involved him. That, in and of itself, would not be an impossible feat, but considering exactly how he planned to involve himself… well, that alone took Elespeth a moment to wrap her head around.
“Wait. You mean… So you… are you suggesting that I… that we… that you…” It wasn’t that she couldn’t find the words; but to say them aloud was itself a feat she wasn’t sure she could yet perform. “...you’re not joking. You’re actually suggesting that we… that we engage in intimate relations? The three of us, together?” Heat flooded her face, a redness that quickly spread to her neck. While the corridor was empty save for the two of them, Elespeth dropped her voice to a whisper. “I can’t find it in me to be intimate with my husband… but you think that you can elicit some sort of reaction from me? And then have my husband pick up where you leave off? Do you have any idea how ludicrous that sounds, Hadwin?!”
That was the trouble; it was ludicrous… but she was otherwise out of options. She didn’t know how to connect to her husband, she didn’t know how to connect to her own sense of being, and because of that, Alster was going to leave. She had only days to convince him to stay… and then it might be too late. “And how exactly am I supposed to convince Alster of this? That this is the solution? Think for a moment of how exactly this will come across to him. He already thinks he isn’t enough… how will that make him feel, to suggest that the solution to being intimate with him again is being intimate with you? How in the world am I supposed to spin that without making him feel worse about himself?”
Unfortunately, that was her problem, and not Hadwin’s. The faoladh had merely put the offer on the table; it was up to her to make it work, if she decided to agree. As soon as Hadwinn left, the former knight confined herself to her bedroom, slumped over on the bed, and thought. She thought about all of the pros and cons of what Hadwin had suggested, particularly with regard to repercussions to her marriage. But no matter her reasoning, in always came back to the same thing: that her marriage with Alster, her connection to the man she loved, was already in jeopardy. They were already breaking apart, to the point where Alster had had enough of suffering in his own skin on account of her, and wanted to leave her behind. For all intents and purposes, they had already hit rock bottom. So… what did either of them have to lose, apart from their dignity?
She must have been sitting on that bed for hours, lost in her back-and-forth thoughts contemplating Hadwin’s offer, when Alster finally returned from his day of work. He greeted her with the pleasant niceties of a diplomat, but… otherwise, he lacked the warmth of a spouse greeting a spouse. It was worse than she thought; he was still intent to go through with his plan to leave, and he genuinely believed that the answer to their problems was separation. No amount of begging would change his mind. She was at a loss. “...you’re wrong. This is wrong, Alster, the way you’re thinking… and what you’re proposing.” She didn’t beat around the bush. If she was going to get through to her husband, then there could be no disguising her intent.
“Yes, I’ve had trouble connecting. To you, to myself, to the world around me… but this isn’t anything new. The trouble started when I was injured in Stella D’Mare. It started with a loss of confidence, and then a desire to take control of my life back… which ended up with me being dependent on a Mollengardian stimulant. From there, it spiraled, and now… now I am so far from the person I once was, who I once thought I was, and I have no one but myself to blame. But it has nothing to do with you; it has everything to do with my struggle to survive and maintain a sense of identity since leaving Atvany.” Elespeth sighed her frustration. All of this was entirely her fault. Not addressing the wound when it had first been inflicted, letting it grow and fester until it turned her into something unrecognizable to even herself… This was in no way Alster’s fault. There was nothing he could have done to prevent this turnout, magic or no magic. It was all her. “But this, what you are proposing… Alster, I did not marry you so that we could live miles apart for one another. I want to fix this--to fix us. Don’t you? Wouldn’t you rather find a solution than run from the problem?”
He’ll never accept it, she thought, as she wrung her hands in preparation for what she was about to propose. He won’t understand where this is coming from… but he has to. Alster, I need you to try to understand… “...I’m at a loss, Alster. I don’t know what to do, and I don’t… I don’t know how to feel, because there is something wrong with me and my ability to identify and connect to anyone or anything. Today… well, yesterday, actually, but also today, Hadwin stuck his nose in my business. I turned away his ‘offer’ to help without thinking about it. But after last night, and after this morning… Alster, I really need you to listen, right now. We need to be on the same page, and I need you to understand why I am proposing this.”
Clutching his hands, her own trembling from nerves, Elespeth expelled a long, shaky breath. “I think… we need help. To reconnect; to be intimate, again. Do you remember that passion we felt, during my naming ceremony? When we renewed our blood bond? I want that, again. I want to feel that with you. But to feel anything again, I think I need… something unexpected. Something… unwanted. To remind me of what I do want; to help me feel for the right person, again.” Her face had flooded with red, again. She was afraid to look Alster in the eye, for fear that she might see betrayal. “Hadwin thinks… he can help. That he has already helped other married couples struggling to connect. For once, he wasn’t gloating; I think he genuinely wants to help. I mean, it benefits him if the both of us are happy and well-functioning individuals. You helped Briery, and he knows that I am able to get through to you when he can’t. I know… I know how this must sound, but I don’t think he was being vindictive. And I’m desperate for a solution… aren’t you?”
After a good deal of hesitation, the former knight finally looked up into her husband’s azure eyes, and saw exactly what she’d expected to see: confusion and shock. She didn’t blame him; but at the same time… she needed him to understand where she was coming from. This wouldn’t work if they were not both in agreement with the plan. “Listen, Alster--really listen to me. I need you to understand… I am willing to do this for us. I am willing to take myself completely out of my comfort zone and approach someone with whom we have had very shaky relations to help us. I am willing to be completely vulnerable and to throw away whatever dignity I have left, just for the chance of returning to that night, when the two of us couldn’t have enough of one another. I am willing to go that far for us… but what I am willing to do doesn’t matter if you aren’t willing to do the same. I won’t force you to agree; I can’t. I can only ask that you consider it and try to see things from my perspective. If you still prefer the alternative--leaving the palace, and leaving me behind… then I can’t stop you. I only ask that you consider staying, long enough for us to find a solution… whatever that solution ends up being.”
It was exhausting, trying to convince someone of something that you were not even entirely sure of, yourself. Elespeth hadn’t expected to find herself so winded, begging Alster to allow a third party into their bedroom, but it was exhausting to watch him mentally struggle with what to say to her. That was a lot of pressure on him; the least she could do was give him the time and space to consider her suggestion, knowing well she’d put him on the spot. “...it is up to you, how we proceed. Just… think about it? And if you’d still prefer to leave, because you are convinced that putting space between us is the answer… then that is your decision to make. Not even I can order the Rigas lord, otherwise.”
Already feeling heated in the face, embarrassed at the suggestion she had proposed to her ever loyal and monogamous husband, Elespeth took it upon herself to leave, and let Alster think it over. She didn’t bother to grab her winter cloak as she left the room, traversed the corridors, and left the palace, eager to feel the winter cold cool the heat in her face. It did so, and then some, chilling her arms and hands in her simple cotton tunic that was in no way suited for temperature below freezing. Oddly enough, she didn’t seem to mind the discomfort until she had almost reached the sanctuary, where Hadwin had said he would be when she’d finally made a decision. When she arrived, he was there, curled up at the feet of the sleeping acrobat who was still recovering from her major surgery. For Briery’s sake, she kept her voice down, snagging his attention as soon as she stepped into the warmth of the tiny hut.
“I tried, alright? I tried to convince him that maybe… just maybe you can help, but I don’t know that it’s possible. There isn’t any way that I can spin your suggestion that doesn’t make it sound like… like adultery, Hadwin.” Breathing an exasperated sigh, Elespeth clutched her cold arms, as the wolf made a motion with his head toward Briery. He was right; this wasn’t the time or the place to unload when the ringleader was resting. Nodding her understanding, the former knight stepped outside again and pressed her back to the outer vine-covered wall, her body still trembling from walking almost a half hour in the cold without proper protection from the cold. When he joined her, he was human again; and mostly clothed. Where it mattered, at least.
“I am in agreement… alright? I’m out of options, at this point, and your idea… it is crazy enough that it might work. But Alster and I do not think the same way. He wouldn’t even say anything when I made the suggestion; he’s probably still in shock that I suggested it, as we speak.” Huffing her frustration, Elespeth pulled one arm away from her chilled chest to rake a hand through her hair. “I tried to convince him that he isn’t the problem. But if he is still determined that putting miles of distance between us is the answer… how can I possibly change his mind by suggesting we invite someone else into our bedroom?”
Cupping her hands, she breathed warmth into her frozen fingers, enduring the slow ache of feeling returning to her digits. “To be honest, even if he were to agree… we are still relying on a lot of variables. Like that you are enough to be the catalyst to incite this drastic change that is supposed to dig me out of this rut in which I’ve found myself…” She dropped her hands to her sides, clutching those frozen fingers into lukewarm fists. “But the truth is, I can’t even respond to my own husband’s touch--someone to whom I have dedicated my life, a pact that implies ongoing intimate relations. What makes you think I’ll be able to respond to you any differently?”
Looking a little defeated, she glanced at the smug faoladh, impervious to any cold with his own built-in winter coat. Only now did she realize how foolish she must have looked, showing up without a cloak or warm leathers or wools to cover her hands. “...I lost myself a long time ago, Hadwin. It started when I left Atvany; it got worse from thereon out. Just because you have infinite experience with infinite sexual partners is not a guarantee that your involvement will break me free of the self-imposed prison I’ve built around myself. I know you mean well, whether or not this offer comes with strings attached. But there’s no guarantee it won’t be all-around awkward or uncomfortable for everyone…”
Alster did not know if he heard Elespeth correctly. Weeks of less than stellar sleep habits compromised his mental faculties and concentration to a noticeable degree. He was simply not to capacity, and his cherished cognitive functions suffered as a result. Too much strain, melancholy, hopelessness, and hustle had diminished all processes into a narrow tunnel of productivity subsisting as little wider than a shaft of light amid the darkness.
So when Elespeth suggested they invite Hadwin inside their bedchambers for reasons of intimacy, the little shaft of light in his head puttered out, leaving him completely in the dark and at a loss to process a sliver of information that actually issued from Elespeth’s mouth. Elespeth said this. Elespeth was advocating for Hadwin to join them, in bed, to reinvigorate their sex-life? While she was certainly experiencing disconnect in her life, she must have been more desperate than Alster realized, if she was seriously considering Hadwin’s offer. He was no stranger to the faoladh’s perversions, but hadn’t considered the brazen wolf to continue advocating for a position sandwiched between established husband and wife, doing heavens knew what to them!
What did it mean? Why did she allow Hadwin to persuade her to the point where her arguments made a twisted sort of sense? Is this what it will take to make you happy, Elespeth? If a dalliance with another man is what you want, why involve me at all? He almost said as much, but she’d since left the room, giving him the space to mull over and understand the heavy proposition she threw at his lap.
Not enough. He wasn’t enough for her; he already knew as much! But of all the men to consider, why would she choose the infamous Hadwin Kavanagh, a person she once despised and who he currently despised? Did she choose so to punish him, aware of their tumultuous relationship? The faoladh represented everything Alster was not: confident, bold, daring, take-charge, possessed of a natural charisma capable of folding cards to his whims. He was a born winner, with an insatiable appetite and a lust for life that survived, nay, thrived, in hardship. He didn’t let people get the better of him. Hard-skinned, hard-hitting, heart of stone, he used logic before emotions, achieving desired results at the expense of other people. He was a user, disharmonious, and he played people as a means to an end. Alster, by contrast, had manufactured his charisma from the ground-up, stumbled through every divot and dip on the road, allowed people to affect his actions and decisions, cared too deeply, exposed his soft-underbelly to the cutting knife, felt every slash, freely bled for the preservation of harmony, and expended himself beyond his limits. No wonder why Elespeth saw an allure, an attraction, in Alster’s shadow self. Hadwin was the devil, irresistible to behold. A shameless sinner, handsome, cock-sure, larger than life—the epitome of lust. You need that, El. Someone who doesn’t bleed when you touch them. A rakish rogue who doesn’t let the world get to him. It’s Adventure you seek. Something unexpected...and I’m too familiar. Too fragile. I think I understand what you need and why you need it.
But how will my being there serve you better? How will seeing you with him help us connect?
If Elespeth was sincere in her request, he would...he would do it for her. Anything. Anything she wanted, however unpalatable. As an apology for traveling afar and leaving her behind, he would honor her request. Whatever would come of it...he did not know. But he’d lost control a long, long time ago. What did it matter, to uphold dignity, when he’d surrendered the hope to keep fighting? When all he wanted to do was retreat, lick his wounds, and wait for time to erode the scars so they could start anew?
...I’ll do it. What else is keeping us afloat? Nothing. I’m nothing to you, El. Nothing but disappointment. But I can give you this, at least. Of the little I can offer, I can give you this.
Upon his return to the sanctuary from the bathhouse, Hadwin, slightly worn from hiking about the woods for half a day in the cold, kicked off his clothes, assumed his wolf skin, and sprawled atop Briery’s feet to sleep. Owing to his steady unconsciousness, he was unable to trace the passing of time, but upon awaking to familiar company, he assumed the evening had not yet drawn to a close. Rising on all four paws and stretching out his legs, he plopped off Briery’s bed and directed Elespeth to wait outside whilst he changed skins and threw on some clothes. When he emerged outside, he wore little else but a pair of trousers and an open jerkin. While winter descended its icy hand on much of Galeyn, it did not disturb the Night Garden and its perpetual warmth. He didn’t bother with leathers or layers when the climate inside the tiny, miracle microcosm remained fair, but he did bring a small woolen blanket and handed it to the ill-prepared Elespeth, who still shivered from wandering outside the boundaries of the Night Garden wearing little more than a threadbare frock for cold protection. Saying nothing of his small gesture of kindness, one which took Elespeth’s comfort into consideration, he leaned against the vine-covered wall, ultimately pleased that the proceedings were spinning in favor of his grandiose plan.
“It’s not adultery if he agrees to it, Elly. It’s all about permission, and you asked for it. Up to him to give the final say. But if he’s as low on himself as I suspect he is, his answer might end up surprising you.” He swept back a few tendrils of rust-colored hair, damp on the edges from his bath, and raked the strands into a messy coiffure. “There’s not enough pride left in him to say no. He knows he’s failed. That’s why he’s heading out to the village to begin with; cuz he thinks he blew it and he’s run out of energy to come up with any other solutions on his own. That much I can glean outta him. As for the rest,” he drove a fist into his open palm and released the air from his knuckles with a satisfying series of cracks, “well, that’s the fun part. The terrifying part, too. We’re rolling the dice, here. We could strike gold or strike a pocket of fossilized shit. I’m good, don’t get me wrong.” He gave an exaggerated toss of his head. “A veritable artist at the easel, but despite how I may behave, I don’t have an overinflated sense of self. I do account for the fact that things can go wrong. If you lead with your ego all the time, you’re too full of your own shit to see the knife angling for your back. So yeah--I’ll be frank with you, Elly. It may not be enough. It may amount to nothing. But nothing’s what you got; otherwise, you wouldn’t be here, having this conversation with me. Anyway, call it a hunch, but,” he stroked the side of his jaw, the very spot where Elespeth once decked him with a fist upon staging a kiss on her lips, “you’ll react to me, alright. You’ve been reacting to me for a long ass time. Believe me, I know how to rile you.”
They barely finished their conversation when who should show up but the last essential component to their three-way dance. Alster trudged over to the sanctuary like a man heading to the gallows. His was a spiritless walk, numb and devoid of joy, but also composed. Come what may, he accepted the course ahead of him with grace and conviction. Like a martyr, he rose to his place upon the scaffolding to hang. A small, sick part of you enjoys this, Al. Hadwin’s eyes sparked with faint glee. You see yourself as making a sacrifice for the one you love. What could be more romantic? More satisfying to the savior-complex in you?
“I’ll do it.” Though he addressed both Elespeth and Hadwin, Alster looked ahead, eyes focused on some spot on the wall they couldn’t see. “But I have conditions.”
“As I’m sure you do. Everyone’s got hard and soft limits. Let’s hear ‘em, Al.”
“I don’t want a part in...in,” he gestured vaguely to Hadwin, schooling his face not to erupt red from embarrassment. “It’s not for me.”
“Fair enough, though I find people only say that because they’re afraid they’ll like it. Can’t have you reevaluating your preferences now, can we?”
“Please, Hadwin,” he released a long-suffering sigh, struggling to maintain control. His hands trembled, not out of anger, but in fear. The poor man had been reduced to a shivering creature, backed into a corner to face the jaws of a hungry predator, fully knowing he was about to die. “Don’t make this any harder. I’m asking that you help her. Whatever she needs, give it to her. I’ll willing to set aside my scruples with you because among everyone here, among our allies and friends, you’ve saved her the most. You’ve reached her when I couldn’t. I haven’t forgotten. I won’t forget. So,” he closed his eyes tight, as though holding back waves of agonizing physical pain, “let me hear this proposal of yours.”
“Your vote of confidence moves me, Al. Warms the cockles of my heart, it does.” Hadwin slipped away from the vine-covered wall, stepping back to scrutinize the tragic pair of lovers and their endless spate of troubles. “But may I suggest we take this conversation elsewhere? Say, a place that’s got ready access to some grog? We desperately need a bit of levity around here. We’ll draft out a plan of attack, for sure, but first, we really need to calm your fucking nerves. I haven’t snared you for dinner. You’re not rabbits; c’mon. Can’t believe I’m the one saying this but there’s nothing you gotta fear from me. Besides, this’ll be a prime opportunity for some quality bonding. We’re sure as hell gonna need it to help plow you through the stubborn barriers of your comfort zone.”
Together, the trio relocated from the sanctuary to the dining hall, an empty venue when visited hours after the supper rush. Prior to their arrival, Hadwin snagged a few bottles of wine from the cellars, as well as three goblets. Upon entering, Alster barred the doors and instructed them to sit in the table in the back corner. By the assault of pink still assailing his cheeks, his shame and fear of detection did not yet wane.
“Here.” Hadwin popped the cork, poured a generous amount into a goblet, and slid the drink to Alster, who sat on his own side, across from him and Elespeth. “You do us the honors, Al. Take the first plunge.”
But the overtaxed and demoralized Rigas Lord did not need the invitation. Once offered, he practically snagged the prized goblet off the table and sloshed the precious liquid down his gullet.
“Whoa, there. Watch you don’t get sick,” Hadwin advised, but neither did he stop the desperate man from imbibing.
“Too late,” Alster set the empty goblet down and poured himself another helping. “I’ve been sick for a while. Wine sickness is inconsequential at this point.” His eyes emphasized his statement. Dimmed and past hope, they conveyed better than words the pointlessness of everything. He acted like he was beyond care, but if he actually did not care, he would have rejected Hadwin’s offer and left for the D’Marian village. All hope was not yet extinguished. “Assist Elespeth,” he said, diving straight to business-talks. “Assist her and...if she wants me after you’re...you’re done,” his dejected gaze stared at the whorled patterns of the table’s wood-grain, “I’ll be there.”
“‘Course she wants you!” he leaned over the table to punt Alster playfully on the shoulder. “That’s the whole point of this exercise. I’m just a tool to get you there faster.”
“You’ll tell no one of your involvement,” Alster continued, as if not hearing him. “Or at the very least, you won’t blab it to the heavens. I’m assuming you’re offering your ‘services’ free of charge?”
“Call it a favor, Al. I’ve got no money riding on this.”
“Last,” he held the edge of the goblet to his lips, “you’ll leave Isidor alone. You’ve harmed that man enough.”
“Already in the works, mate. Made that promise to Tes and I intend on keeping it.” After a fashion, he thought, remembering his possession of the alchemist stone, guaranteeing that Isidor wouldn’t leave Hadwin alone until its return.
“So do we have a deal?” Alster opened the steel digits of his prosthetic hand and thunked it on the table like a leaden weight.
“Ever try arm wrestling with this thing?” He grunted as he lifted the proffered hand and shook on cold, hard steel.
“No,” Alster said bluntly. “It would be very painful.”
“Touche.”
The Rigas Head lowered his arm and finished draining his second goblet. “Elespeth,” he finally addressed his wife, his expression unreadable, “I’m ready whenever you are.”
“Oh, you wanna go at it now?” Hadwin rammed his finger downward, for emphasis. “Thought we’d chit-chat a while. Shoot the breeze. Air out some grievances.”
“The sooner the better. In fact,” he inclined his head, regarding Hadwin with a strange, curious sheen in his azure eyes, “I don’t even know how good you are. You brag about your ‘prowess,’ but for all I know, it’s a false show of bravado. I couldn’t let you have your way with Elespeth without first evaluating if you’re best man for the job.”
Hadwin exchanged a baffled look with Elespeth. “What’re you implying? That I show you, first?”
The curious sheen increased with slow, drunken fervor. Alster’s face was almost feverish, a bizarre combination of desperation and nonchalance. “Yes. Show me. Now. Right here. No.” His finger traveled south. “Down here. You said some people are afraid to go against their preferences out of fear that may enjoy themselves. Let it be known that I was willing to challenge this fear, head-on.”
“You understand what you’re saying, right? Cuz you’re drunk. Also,” he clicked his tongue in approval. “Good on you for that bit at the end. Pun intended?”
He didn’t respond to the attempt at playful banter, nor at the attempt to divert the topic. “It doesn’t matter. Don’t you see? It doesn’t matter.” Alster chuckled, a hint of madness in his laugh. “I’m going to be drunk when we do this anyway. I’ve given my permission. So do it.” he challenged, egging him on. “I won’t know you’re worth your salt, otherwise.”
Far too intrigued to deny Alster’s unorthodox request a moment longer, Hadwin wet his palate with a swig of wine in preparation. “Sure thing. I’ll charm your serpent, Serpent Lord. Excuse me, Elly.” He disappeared under the table, crawling to Alster’s side on all fours. A clinking of a belt buckle, a swish of rustling fabric, then nothing. Then…
Alster’s body stiffened. His fingers clawed the edge of the table, anchoring himself to the jolts that swayed him, rocked him, and threatened to knock him off his seat. His eyes bulged and his face heated to its designated melting point. Breaths shuddered and gasped, shuddered and gasped, and his lids shuttered as though undergoing the stages of rapid eye movement. Upon release, he clamped his tongue to prevent from making a sound, which desperately tried to gurgle itself free. Finished, he deflated, crumpling into a discarded heap on the table. “What the,” he sputtered, failing to collect himself into an upright position (though he was certainly upright elsewhere!) “What...did you do?”
Hadwin, who reemerged on the chair beside Elespeth, calmly, triumphantly reached for his wine goblet and took a sip. “So, when do we start?”
Hadwin was right: Elespeth wouldn't have been there at all, taking the faoladh up on his already ludicrous offer, if she wasn't already entirely out of options. She didn't know where else to go, from here, with Alster so insistent on leaving, and not open to hearing her words. It didn't matter what she suggested, at this point: her husband had stopped listening, because he had already come to his own conclusion, and if she knew her husband, there was no doubt in her mind that his own, shattered sense of confidence and self-worth coloured every corner of his world dark. He didn't hear her because he didn't want to; his ears merely did not pick up on the meaning behind her words because it had all become white noise to him. She was white noise because… she was a lost cause, in his eyes. So if she had in fact only irritated this open wound in her husband by suggesting they seek the help of a third party, then that meant the two of them had hit rock bottom: and from there, there was nowhere to go but up.
"No, you're right: I've got nothing left to go on. But even if he agrees to this--even if it is consensual… he'll only be agreeing for my sake. And at worst, if this fails… If this has a more terrible turnout than simply not working, then what is left of my marriage could very well be at stake." Elespeth pulled the woolen blanket tight around her chilled form. "Alster has already given up on himself… so all that is left is for him to give up on me, entirely. To convince himself that there is nothing left for us, and…"
She didn't have time to finish the thought before someone else--an unexpected, albeit familiar figure--joined them outside of the sanctuary. Elespeth's eyes widened to find her husband approaching them, not with a look of complete and utter defeat (although there were traces in his Azure eyes), but… something akin to determination. A different air about him than the one she'd previously encountered, urging him to run away from it all. "Alster." The former knight breathed, astonished that Hadwin, for all his shit-eating confidence, had been right. Her husband had fallen so low that, for better or worse, he agreed that they had nothing left to lose. If only his agreement brought some sort of reassurance: instead, it felt as thought he were agreeing to sacrifice himself to some nefarious cause. "Look, I know how this might seem to you… but I'm not looking for some excuse for a nefarious sexual escapade. Believe me, I am as uncomfortable as you, but… but that's the point of all of this. Staying within the confines of my comfort zone isn't helping me navigate this fog I've found myself it. I need something unfamiliar… and altogether uncomfortable to snap out of it. And let's face it," she blew a sigh from between her lips and gestured to Hadwin. "There's no one better at rousing discomfort than this man."
Noting how Alster shivered, despite the mild temperature of the Night Garden, Elespeth draped the blanket Hadwin had given her around his shoulders. She wasn’t even sure that he noticed the gesture, as the three of them departed the sanctuary and the temperate comfort of the Night Garden, making there was to somewhere more private to discuss the matter. The former Atvanian wasn’t holding out hope that any of this would go well, by any stretch. Just because Alster had agreed to discuss his terms did not mean he was fully convinced of this ridiculous plan to mend the terrible gap between the two of them; she wasn’t convinced that it, in fact, wouldn’t make it worse. But here they were, the both of them out of options and ideas, and here was Hadwin, offering the chance of a solution that neither of them really wanted… We’ve hit rock bottom. At this point, even if this is a dismal failure… there really is nowhere to go but up. What was the worst that would happen, after all? That Alster would go on with this initial plan and leave the palace? Even if that remained the ultimate outcome… Elespeth would at least know that she’d tried. That she had made some effort, however ill-advised, to fix herself. To make things right for them…
Aslter chose the deserted dining hall to continue their discussion, a decidedly strange location considering the topic at hand, but neither Elespeth nor Hadwin questioned his choice of location. With the doors barred shut, and only the company of wall sconces as company adhered to the mostly soundproof walls, the three took a seat at a table, while the faoladh set a couple of heavy bottles of wine and three empty goblets in front of them. The ex-knight wasn’t sure she could stomach so much as a sip; her insides felt all twisted and squirming, from the moment she’d made the decision to take Hadwin up on his offer. How Alster was able to dive right into the bitter, dark liquid, with a stomach as sensitive as his, was beyond her, and did not register for either her or Hadwin without concern.
“Alster… take it easy.” Elespeth begged, eager to reach across the table and take the bottle and the goblet from him. Seeing him in such a state of disarray almost made her want to reconsider this entire plan of action, but it wouldn’t have helped. The seed had already been planted, the damage was done; if he hadn’t already given up on himself completely, then it wouldn’t be long before he dissolved into a pile of nothingness. And she was to blame. She was at fault for… for everything.
“I don’t… of course I want you, Alster! I want only you, and I want to find a way to respond to you the way I used to. To respond to your touch before I broke myself so far beyond repair… I don’t hate Hadwin, not after he has proven time and again that he does have it in him to genuinely care. He isn’t offering to help out of some sick sense of seeing us so uncomfortable, and if this is the solution we need, then yes, I want to explore this opportunity for us. For you.” Elespeth’s green eyes softened as she reached across the long table and laid a hand on his arm before he could drown himself in another long drink of wine. “I realize… there is no real way to convince you of this, but I didn’t agree to this because I want him. I want you, and only you, and I am willing to go against every fiber of my moral framework if it means he can help me feel our connection again, Alster. I wish I could make you see it the way I do, but… but I can’t. And the only thing that will convince you is to see the end result. And if it doesn’t work…”
The former knight paused, sighed, and then pulled away, sinking into her seat like she wished she could disappear completely. “If it doesn’t work… then I will leave it up to you. And if you decide that you still want to leave for the D’Marian village, and that I should stay behind… I won’t try to stop you. It won’t help us; it won’t fix this. But… I won’t try to change your mind. This…” She spread her arms in a gesture of last ditch hope. “This is all I’ve got left. I don’t have any more solutions.”
For better or worse, Alster didn’t need any more convincing. He stated his stance and stipulations, also tacking on that he expected the faoladh to leave their resident Master Alchemist well alone. None of that came as any surprise to the Rigas woman. But what her husband proposed next… well, it was favourable that she had not been drinking wine, otherwise she’d have spit it out. “You… what? I… d-don’t refer to me like I am some object.” She protested, going red in the face yet again that night. “No one is having their way with me! If I don’t like what is happening, then it stops, then and there. There isn’t even any guarantee that being with Hadwin… i-in that way is going to be a successful venture. Certainly, he knows how to get me frustrated, but regardless of his ‘prowess’, the fact alone that I don’t love him like I love you might well be the pinnacle of failure. Here and now… t-there’s no need to…”
But when Alster wanted to be stubborn, he could be stubborn. And with the amount of wine already clouding his better judgment… he demanded that Hadwin prove himself, prove his skills and his worth, then and there. Even Hadwin, to his rare credit, had the sense to verify whether it was something the Rigas lord really wanted, but Alster was determined that if this was the plan, they they would go into it as fail-proof as possible, or else they would not execute it at all. “Alster, are you actually… comfortable with this? You honestly have nothing to prove; no one here thinks you need to prove that you’re not afraid of… of enjoying a man’s touch. Even if he does live up to his grandiose claims, what you might feel has nothing to do with how I might feel once the tables are turned.”
It didn’t matter. Her husband had already made up his mind, and Hadwin was never one to require any amount of convincing when it came to sexual escapades. Before she could say another word, the faoladh disappeared beneath the table, and soon after the brief rustling of clothes and clinking of belts… Alster was gone. If not in body, then certainly in mind, the way his body stiffened and shades of pleasure flickered across his face. Shades that she used to see when the two of them were together, sharing a moment of intimacy. Whatever Hadwin was doing to prove his worth, it certainly got a reaction out of her husband more quickly than she ever had. The shock and surprise on her face quickly shifted to something more bitter, something that she should have seen coming, and that she should have detected in Alster before any of this had occurred: jealousy. If he had to see her with another man… then she would have to see him with that same man, as well.
“Alright. I get it; you’ve both made your damn point.” Backpedaling on her resolve not to drink, the former knight took the bottle that sat in front of Alster and poured some for herself. She did not put the goblet down until all of its contents were entirely drained. “You won’t see me with someone else unless I have to suffer the same; is that it, Alster? I’ve never known you to be vindictive, but fine, you’ve made your point. And you should know that yes, I am both upset and uncomfortable from it. Satisfied?”
Setting her goblet upon the table with more force than necessary, the former knight stood, taking the frustration coiling in her gut and using it to fuel her resolve. “Not here. If this has to happen, it will damned well happen somewhere more appropriate. And not in our bedroom, either. That is for me and Alster only. Let’s find… somewhere else."
She didn’t wait to see if the two men followed before she unlatched the doors of the dining hall and set out into the corridor. Due to the reduce population of Galeyn, and the D’Marians preferring to inhabit their own village as opposed to assimilate to Galeynian culture entirely, many rooms in the palace had been left unoccupied, many empty beds ready and waiting for the next guest or occupant. Those rooms, Elespeth had come to realize by accident, were never locked, and there was no one in them to demand privacy, and nothing of value to lock away. It didn’t take long, between her and Hadwin giving a few doors a gentle push to see if they would give way, to find an unoccupied room with a large bed that ironically looked as though it would fit more than two. It was sparse, save for a fireplace and wall sconces that had not been lit. Though not nearly as cold as the winter wind beyond the walls, it was a good deal chillier than their shared bedroom, or the comfort of the sanctuary.
Alster took it upon himself to try and remedy this, by lighting the wall sconces as well as throwing some logs into the fireplace and sparking them to life with etherea. They shut the door, convinced that no one had seen them enter the room collectively, and then everything came to a standstill. Alster was already in agreement; Hadwin was waiting for the go-ahead. It was up to her to initiate the next move.
“Alright, alright… can you just… can you give me a moment? Both of you?” The former Atvanian turned her back to the two men and expelled a shuddering breath. Maybe the wine had not been a good idea; her stomach was in knots all over again, and her hands were trembling. Can’t you see, Alster? That this is just as much a sacrifice for me as it is for you? She thought rather bitterly, frankly feeling hurt at the prospect that Alster still seemed to think she wanted this just for the sake of some variety in her life. I didn’t marry you just so I could go and mess around with other men… Why won’t you believe me?
Huffing her resolve (and almost certain she could see her breath in this chilled room), Elespeth unlaced and kicked off her heavy boots, shrugged out of her tunic and fussed with the buckles of her trousers. “Both of you--take off your clothes.” It wasn’t a request; Elespeth wasn’t going to proceed until she was no longer the only one unclothed. “I refuse to be the only person exposed, here.”
Only when she was sure that they had both complied, once the rustling of clothing falling to the floor had ceased, did she turn around, arms folded insecurely over her small chest. A notable difference in disposition from Hadwin, who had exactly zero issues exposing himself to anyone, regardless of whether or not they wanted it. In the past couple of months, she’d managed to build up a lot of the muscle she had lost, giving shape to her otherwise small form, so her insecurity did not stem from her physique at this point. She simply couldn’t convince herself she was comfortable with anyone but Alster seeing her at her most open and vulnerable. “Alright--I’m ready. Let’s do this, then… before I realize it is a horrible idea and end up changing my mind.”
It took a few dazed moments for Alster to recover from his under-the-table transaction. Reduced to silent panting, his noodly muscles too weak to respond to the demands for good posture, he remained collapsed on the table, reeling not only from the aftereffects of Hadwin’s ‘handiwork,’ but from the implications of reacting so strongly to another man’s touch--in the presence of his wife. Through his half-lidded eyes, he saw Elespeth’s confusion and hurt, intermixed with shades of betrayal, and he knew he had done wrong to solicit Hadwin for such a public demonstration.
“Elespeth--no,” came his weary counter to her accusation of his vindictive agenda. Carefully, he pulled his weight, aligning it in position against the chair, no longer in danger of spilling to the floor. “I don’t want you to suffer at all. Why else would I agree to any of this? I didn’t think I...I didn’t think he,” an uncertain breath added an uneasy break in his stuttering defense, “I didn’t think I’d like it!” No number of drinks could ease him into making a confession so bold. He gave up even trying to drink away the heights of his discomfort and mortification. “I thought it would be better if I played along. I didn’t think he could possibly succeed. Please understand, it’s not...I didn’t do it on purpose!”
“If that’s not a glaring endorsement of my talents, then I don’t know what is. I’d toast to that, but I’m not here to take advantage of your misery. I’m invested, believe me.” Hadwin lowered his goblet and overturned his palms in a gesture of appeal. “Come now, it was a chemical reaction. You add one element to another and there’s bound to be activity. A trick and nothing more. Nothing deep or spiritually moving about getting sucked off. It’s just the body responding to a good old fashioned beating. Give it to him, Elly, and I’m sure you’ll get a similar result--’cept it’ll mean more, ‘cuz it’s coming from you.”
“I was thinking about you,” Alster, paying little attention to Hadwin’s “teachable moment,” entreated, fraught and on the verge of teetering. “When he was...doing that to me, I was thinking only of you, Elespeth. I was being flippant, before. You’re not an object. I’m sorry for offending; I was looking to disconnect. To be less of me, and more of...more of who you want me to be. I’ll be anything. If you can’t connect to me, then I’m the problem. And that’s ok. If I’m the problem, I can change to be your solution. I can change. Starting now.” A thin layer of tears filmed over his eyes. “If this doesn’t work, then I’ll change to fit what you need. If I am truly all you want, then it falls on me to be the person who you can connect to.”
“Ok--it looks like you’re transitioning into the weepy stage of your drinking binge and we can’t have that, so you’re hereby cut off for the rest of the night.” Hadwin confiscated Alster’s bottle, hiding it under the table. “But it’s good to see the wine did well to remind you not to give up the fight, even if your methods of fighting are...problematic. That being said,” he propped an elbow on the wood-top, “damn, so dramatic! You monogamous types always gotta bring a guilty conscience into a simple bedroom soiree. Here you’re confessing like you’re committing infidelity. Look, if you’re this conflicted about it, I’ll step down. Just say the word and I’ll walk away. By our deal, I won’t make a peep, and the two of you will still have your dignity or whatever. So,” he leaned back on his chair, winding his arms behind his head and waited, patiently, “what’ll it be, you two?”
Neither party demurred, perhaps out of the belief that they had trammeled too far into hell to turn around and flee the flames. Irrevocably damned, they would see to their punishment on the off chance it would lead, if not to salvation, then to the tiniest of absolutions. For a couple so driven to hope against the bleakest of outcomes, the fact that they harbored so little of it in light of Hadwin’s unique stratagem should have delivered a blow to his confidence. The faoladh, if not consistently forthright, had at least the proof of an impressive winning streak on his long list of accomplishments. His wins were nothing to sniff at, either, jailbreaks and life-saving notwithstanding. Oh ye of so little faith; did they really resent him that much, that the mere thought of sharing an intimate encounter with him was enough to incite an existential breakdown?
And that was exactly why he was the best candidate! You said I was poison, mam. That I’m only good for fucking things up and bringing out the worst in people. So let’s weaponize it for a good cause. Sure, it can all go up in smoke and flames, but the same’s true if you sit and do nothing.
With all three agreeing to move out of the dining hall in search of an ideal venue for their love-making collaboration, they each staggered their departure and exited out of different doors to deflect suspicion from the most curious of passersby. To Alster (and Elespeth), detection from a familiar face, a gossipy attendant, or a Forbanne soldier (who would then report to Haraldur), was tantamount to social suicide. Hadwin’s reputation preceded him. Even among Galeyns, involvement with the faoladh at all either had to do with sex, something scandalous...or something illegal. Midnight rompings with the seedy shifter in tow would most definitely stir up suspicions of foul play.
Out of principle, they did not gather in Alster and Elespeth’s shared chambers, so afraid to have any crumb of matrimonial dissonance spill into their bedroom that they quarantined it into a separate space. Checking the hallway which was littered with vacant guest quarters, they chose one at the end of the corridor, a well-insulated room furnished with an overlarge bed perfect for various shenanigans.
Inside, they lit the fire and the sconces (courtesy of Alster’s magic) and waited for the frigid room to warm to a serviceable temperature before proceeding with the night’s activities. “El,” Alster, fidgeting with the wool blanket she’d given him, turned from the fire he’d managed to cultivate into a full-bodied blaze, “if you’re not comfortable with the idea, you don’t have to take off all your clothes. I’m sure we could work around it.”
But Elespeth, her mind made up, was ready to take their premise and commit to it one hundred percent. For her, it was either all or nothing. She chose the former, and proceeded to strip each article of her clothing. In a futile attempt to protect her honor, Alster stepped in between her and Hadwin, brandishing the wool blanket as a makeshift privacy curtain.
“Relax,” Hadwin released a noisy growl of a sigh. His back to them, his attention was focused not on the disrobing woman but on the fire in the hearth. “Not even looking.”
Following suit with her voiced request, Hadwin led the charge, peeling off his tunic, trousers, and boots in a speed owing to his constant transformations and his constant sex. While Alster was still tugging at his belt, the faoladh had already stripped completely naked. From his periphery, he noticed the prevalence of lean, lithe muscles molded over a practically hairless form, a well-proportioned study of inspiration for a painter or sculptor to recreate using their chosen medium. Not that he sought it in particular, but upon seeing Hadwin’s manhood, he deemed it unfair. Compared to his scrawny, stunted, imbalanced body, bereft of an arm and several toes, the third unwanted but necessary member of their group stood out like a veritable god of fertility and debauchery. Apt, that the man hadn’t any trouble securing trysts with countless partners.
Hadwin, who seemed to read Alster’s mind, (and he very well could have; his every thought coincided with a fear), regarded him with the downward tilt of his head. “I’ve been at it since I was about nine.”
Alster’s brow knit with confusion. “Excuse me?”
“My mam thought I had the stuff, even at that age. She anticipated I’d blossom into a hot commodity but didn’t wanna wait for that day, so she started my training ‘early.’ That’s why I’m so good at sucking cock,” he winked at Alster, who shrank into himself. “One of my first skills. Aside from pounding dough and terrorizing people with their fears, that is.”
“That’s...that’s wrong on so many levels!” Alster gawked, his hand pausing in removing the final article of clothing; his trousers.
“Yeah, well that’s mam for you.” He shrugged, unfazed. “So desperate for a fix that she’d sell her kids to the highest bidder. Guess I’m thankful she targeted only me; left Ro and Bron alone. Anyway, I say this to put your mind at ease. I’ve been brought-up for sex from the start. Don’t go comparing us. It’ll dishearten you so quick you’ll be a pair of shriveled nuts and ain’t nothing going to happen tonight if you can’t get it up. I’m superficial as I come; I got no substance. I’m good at what I do but it doesn’t mean I’m a better partner, or your replacement.” He helped Alster remove his trousers. Steadying his shoulders, he presented the now-naked Alster to the now-naked Elespeth. “Now, forget I’m here a moment. Take a look at each other. When was the last time you really looked at your partner? When was the last time you carved out a moment to appreciate one another? Take the time right now. And don’t you dare start thinking! This isn’t an exercise in thought. Meditate. Drink each other in! Invite those sensations that made you fall for each other in the first place.” He slapped Alster’s back. “Do it.”
Alster obeyed, but not without some hesitation. Did he deserve to gaze at Elespeth, naked and vulnerable, when he’d done so much to upset her during the last several weeks? Was it right for him to have his eyes silently survey her body like an old, familiar map he knew so well but hadn’t read in months? Whether he deserved his wife or not, he found himself wandering over the ridges of her muscular arms and torso, the shape of her breasts, the way she tucked herself in, ashamed that her display was not for him entirely; that her pleasure lay in the hands of another man. Her brown hair rippled past her shoulders, flaring downwards like the curves of her hips. He wanted to touch her. Every part. Run his fingers through his hair, trace the divots of her back to her waist, hold her close and answer the request locked behind her desirous green eyes. He wanted to make it better, to erase the pain—and he wanted her to want him just the same. It had been so long and he was desperate. Desperate for her to ease the noise in his head which railed at him for not being good enough, for disappointing everyone, for deserving not even the kindest touch, or love. But he burst for it. His heart hammered for her and no one else.
Unbidden, he reached out his left hand and rested it on her arm, a gesture of reassurance as well as a yearning to connect by physical touch. “Elespeth.” He never stopped looking into her eyes. “I’m here.” He peppered a kiss, chaste and quick, on the side of her mouth. “I have you. No matter what happens, you’re safe. I won't let anything bad happen."
“Perfect. Way to sell it.” Hadwin drifted back into their orbit, but to his credit, he did not loudly announce his presence. His reappearance was gradual, like the sun creating over the horizon. “Alright, Elly. Head over to the bed and lie down. You’re gonna be next to her, Al.”
“What,” he swallowed, his grip on Elespeth’s arm faltering, “do you want me to do?”
“You’re gonna be the face she sees, of course. I’m not in the picture. I’m just the phantom masseuse, after a fashion. It’s me, my fingers...and my mouth.” He crawled over Elespeth on the bed, a spider before its prey. “I’m gonna do to you, Elly, what your husband doesn’t do. I’m doing it out of hunger and lust. Al does it out of love, but there’s no love in this, and you’ll find none of it from me. You need comforting, go to him, cuz I’m about to show you no mercy. Gonna tease the living daylights out of you. So,” his mouth widened, exposing his sharp canines, “no more talk. Let’s begin.”
He wasn’t joking about ‘no mercy.’ Almost immediately after loudly announcing his intentions, the wolf raked his teeth over the sensitive areas of her body, an exploration involving his tongue, primarily, but on occasion, he clamped his mouth and bit. Listening to the demands of her body, he worked with merciless speed, honing in on the delicate skin of her throat, the mounds of her breasts, her belly button--and naturally, the entrance between her legs. For his part, Alster sat beside his wife, helpless but to watch as she reacted to him. Whatever Hadwin was doing, it stirred her in all the right places. He snacked on her breasts, thoroughly mapping out their circumference with his tongue. In response, she twitched and ground her jaw to prevent from making a sound out of respect for her bewildered husband, who hadn’t ceased his grip on her arm. Amidst his assault, Hadwin parted Elespeth’s legs with his knee, curled his fingers into the vague shape of a beak, and swooped them under the hood. It was as though someone had shocked her from the inside, for how her back arched and bucked from an uncontrollable force of nature. Her legs kicked outward as if fending off her foreign invader. And just as suddenly as it began, Hadwin stopped just shy of reaching the summit. He withdrew from her breasts, removed his fingers from her nethers, and rolled over on the bed as though in surrender.
“Your turn, Al!” he cheered from his sideways vantage point. “There ain’t no way she can reject you now. Not when she’s so whipped up into a tizzy. Shake her down!”
“I--” he hesitated. He was riding on another man’s work. He couldn’t take credit. He did nothing. No; he merely sat and turned a blind eye as someone else pleasured his wife far better than he would ever dare. The transition was sure to disappoint her. A mere touch and she would crash. He’d ruin it! He’d unravel her, but not in the correct direction. I’ll let you down. I will. I’ll--
“Dammit, Al!” Hadwin roared into his ear, startling him out of his thoughts. “Don’t fucking think!” The faoladh rose up and yanked him into Elespeth’s path. To prevent from losing his balance and crashing atop her, Alster anchored his hands on either side of her. Achieving stability--and the courage to go on--he scooped her lips into a kiss, slotted inside of her...
And a lightning storm ensued.
To Hadwin’s credit, Elespeth had to admit that he was as respectful as what could be expected in that unique scenario in which they found themselves. He did not look at her when she asked him not to; he gave her time to adjust, time to be ready, and time for Alster to come to terms with a plan he had only committed to for her sake. The fact alone that she had chosen to agree to this was enough to shake up her identity crisis to a point where even it did not know where to hinge, or what direction to push her. She was in a committed, monogamous marriage, and neither Elesepth Tameris nor Elespeth Rigas would ever have so much as considered taking another man into her bed. She had no idea who she was in her own skin, at that moment… but maybe that was the point. To forget everything, both her past and her present, and to focus on the future. To find a way to exist neither as Elespeth Tameris nor Elespeth Rigas; only as Elespeth. Hadwin might have been on to something, when it came to facing the unknown and the chaos it brought. It really reset the mind, snapping it out of its fugue with the necessity of dealing with whatever mayhem was afoot--this case being that a committed woman, wholly in love with her husband, was actually inviting the touch of another man.
The fact that no one in the room happened to be wearing any clothes came as a small, but not insignificant relief when she turned to face her husband on Hadwin’s request. Made her feel less like a broken object who had to expose itself just to be fixed. Alster, too, was broken in his own way, so far gone on the confidence he had lost in himself and in his ability to help other people or to please his own wife. Even Hadwin was not without his hangups, though this event did not happen to address his demons. Facing her husband, who stood just as naked and vulnerable as her, Elespeth relaxed a little and dropped her arms to her side. This was for him; this was for them, and there was no need for modesty or insecurity when the preferred outcome was to make it possible for the both of them to achieve intimacy, again. She had gained muscle and put on weight for herself, yes, out of necessity to find herself in a place of health, again, but it was also for him. So that she would no longer see sadness in his eyes when he could feel her ribs through her skin, or give him any excuse to treat her with delicacy, like she would break if he applied too much pressure. All of this, in part--every step of her recovery for the past year had, for some extent, been for Alster. “You can look,” she urged him gently, when her husband appeared to struggle with his conscience. “This isn’t just for me. It’s for you, too. All the training and working with Haraldur his past month… it wasn’t just out of some selfish need to feel useful, again. That was part of it, but… but I also didn’t want to feel ashamed to show myself to you, Alster. I wanted to feel beautiful and strong again for you. I’m not self-centered enough to be motivated by personal gain. If that were the case… without you as part of that motivation, I’d have given up a long time ago.”
She could understand his hesitation, though. Hadwin demanded that they both shut off their minds, that they stop thinking altogether, but that was no easy task when overthinking was the crux of their problem. But if she thought too much, there was no way she would be able to go through with this… So she did as Hadwin asked, and took her place on the bed, laying her stiff body upon the unused quilt. It did bring her a modicum of comfort and reassurance to have Alster there with her, his hand on her arm, as a familiar and inviting presence. Her only concern stemmed from her own uncertainty of how useful any of this would be, given the past she shared with Hadwin. Were they even friends, at this point? And if they were, did that make this all the worse? Would it have been better if they couldn’t tolerate one another’s presence, as had been the case in the past?
At his first touch, the pressure of his mouth on her neck, she went rigid, just as she’d feared--but it didn’t last long. Hadwin startled her out of her shell when he closed his mouth around her delicate skin and bit down; not excessively hard, but as someone who was also part wolf, his canines were sharper than the average person’s. Eliciting that one small reaction from her body was apparently all it took to make way for a flood of further responses to ensue. Where Alster typically took his time, Hadwin did not let up for even a second to allow her a moment to collect herself or her thoughts. He didn’t want her to think--and she couldn’t, not with the assault that stimulated her nerves until she felt raw. For Alster’s sake, she kept her squirming to a minimum and the unbidden sounds in her throat relatively stifled, but it became increasingly more difficult to dampen her reactions as Hadwin expertly read into what set her off, and then played those chords with more vigor. She couldn’t lose herself entirely--what would that do to Alster, to watch her gasping at another man’s ministrations, when she had barely sighed at his touch?
Apparently, Hadwin wasn’t about to let her off without some visceral sign that she was losing herself to a point where guilt and uncertainty could no longer colour her experience. Out of some unconscious attempt to maintain a sliver of her dignity through all of this, Elespeth had kept her legs demurely closed, even through the faoladh’s explorations with his mouth. But that wasn’t good enough; not enough to force her to stop from holding back. Without any warning, Hadwin--who had, in his defense, already clarified that he intended to show no mercy--spread her stubborn thighs with his knees, curled his fingers… and completely shattered her.
There was no holding back the gasp that wrenched from her lungs. Elespeth had kept her eyes closed for the majority of this necessary venture, determined to not find herself seeing Hadwin’s face in her mind’s eye whenever Alster pleasured her in the future, but they shot open at the jolt that shot through her body. The more it built, the hotter her blood grew under her skin, and the less control she had over her body. Her back arched and her toes curled, her legs kicked out and bent at the knee, and her arms reached above her head in some futile attempt to grasp at something to anchor her when she felt so afraid she would drown in the waves of pleasure assaulting her body. It built, and it built, and eventually, it completely slipped her mind that Hadwin was the one making her feel this way.
Just as she was about to melt into the bed quilt and lose herself in pleasure, it stopped. Hadwin withdrew, and Alster… Alster was there. But he was hesitating, and her heart was still racing, her breathing still heavy, and she was feeling something again, for the first time in a year. Was he really going to leave her hanging out of his own lack of certainty? Leave this unfinished because he still didn’t think he was good enough? “Alster…!” Elespeth hissed, both desperation and impatience heavy in her voice. Her green eyes were dark and cloudy with desire, and so help him, if he got cold feet on her now…!
He didn’t, thanks to the helpful shove from Hadwin’s direction. Elespeth accepted and returned his kiss, wrapped her arms around his neck, and opened herself to him, welcoming him inside of her for the first time in so long. Finally, after time and distance and every other obstacle she could think of, they were connected by more than just their marriage or bond. And Elespeth, who had already lost control of her ability to hold back, responded to his body with fervor. No longer able to keep her vocalizations trapped in her chest, she moaned and sighed, all of her nerves as alight as they had been they night they’d taken a risk and made love behind curtains among a crowd of revelers when she had been named a Rigas. She moved with him, dug her fingers into his back, and begged, “More… don’t hold back. Don’t be gentle.”
This was more than sweet lovemaking between a husband and wife. This was about addressing carnal needs and desires with the right person, and the next time she felt like this, she wanted Alster to be the only thing on her mind. Hadwin couldn’t have a part in the future of her intimate life with Alster, and while he might have helped reawaken the pleasure center in her mind and reminded her body how to experience pleasure, it was her husband who would take her over the edge. Of course, Alster complied, and she noted some of that sly confidence slowly slipping back into his movements and ministrations. That small sliver of self-assurance that being so connected to the Serpent lent him, but not enough that he wasn’t himself. “I’m yours,” she murmured breathlessly, taking his lower lip between her teeth and biting gently. “Show me I’m yours…”
The throes of passion really were enough to make her forget herself, to forget about thinking, and anything else she might be feeling aside from pleasure. Among those things to which Elespeth failed to be attention was the low humming in her veins; the sort that kept her up at night and made for restless sleep, considering her magic remained relatively unused and unhoned, and stirred restlessly beneath her skin. She didn’t notice the small, almost insignificant sparks pulsing from her fingertips, or the electricity of their mutual kisses. If Alster took notice, he either didn’t mind, or didn’t want to say anything for fear of breaking the spell. But those tiny motes of electricity did not remain contained for long. As Elespeth finally peaked, surrendering herself to a climax so intense that it made her shudder, so too did the stirrings of lightning in her blood seek a means of release. And it found that release, conducting through the fibers of the woolen quilt, and through the wrought-iron bedpost, sparing no one within range of the bed--or the walls, for that matter. So intense was the insurgence of magic that escaped her like a wave that the force of its exit actually disturbed the mounted wall sconces, all which fell and extinguished immediately upon hitting the floor. The walls might have been sound-proof as far as voices went… but there was no way someone outside would’ve have taken notice of the sound of a room falling apart.
Elespeth noticed--surely, everyone in the room noticed, but it was a moment before she found the energy to react, her vision dancing with stars from light-headedness, and her body aching from that long-needed release. But when it occurred to her that her errant magic had surely affected more than just the room, she sat upright, eyes wide with realization.
“Damnit… are you alright?” She gasped, gripping Alster’s shoulders. While he appeared shaken, and just as breathless as her, he did not appear to be injured in any way. That was when she remembered that he wasn’t the only one in the room with her, however…
“Hadwin.” Both of them turned to where the faoladh had retreated when Alster had taken over, and Elespeth’s face coloured with embarrassment that had nothing to do with the fact that someone else had been in the room bearing witness to her making very passionate love to her husband, and everything to do with the fact she could’ve inadvertently injured the person who had helped them get there. Something about someone seeing you completely naked was enough to nullify and related humiliation completely, when you were no longer burdened with dignity. “I’m sorry… a-are you alright?” She certainly hoped so; otherwise, how would she explain this to healers? Such were details she would much rather not divulge…
But the shapeshifter, ever fast at recovery, did not seem at all fazed at the sudden shock of electricity that assaulted his body for the second time, thanks to Elespeth and her errant magic. In fact… just like before, he’d seemed to enjoy it. Leave it to him to find that arousing, she thought with absolutely no surprise. Of course… she and Alster had themselves derived pleasure from mild electric currents, in the past. Perhaps she was judging him far too hard. After tonight, after what he had done for her and her husband, she really had nothing left to hold against him.
“If we’re all alright… then let’s get out of here.” The former knight suggested as she threw her legs over the bed and stood, albeit a bit shakily. “There is no way this disruption went completely unnoticed, and I certainly do not want to have to explain myself to Queen Lilica… damnit, how did this happen?”
Although all she wanted to do was bask in the company of her husband, arms wrapped around him out of relief that they had finally re-established their connection, she knew better than to waste any time, and rushed toward her pile of clothes on the floor. “Come on--if we’re fast, we can make it out of here before one of the night guards come to investigate the… carnage.”
Entering Elespeth was akin to discovering his magical potential for the first time. The breathless, invigorating sensations hearkened him back to the vibrations of etherea that sang beneath his veins, their frequencies at a level only he could hear and appreciate. Every caster developed their own signature, a unique calling that no other could forge or replicate as their own. His melding with Elespeth, however--it felt different. Like he’d found the counter-melody to his song, a harmonic response to the silence that rang hollow in echoes of defeat. She housed his magic, and it imprinted on her, molding its values around her values and her personality, but the frequencies never shifted from its original source. Alster’s magic and Elespeth’s magic were the same, and when they connected, mouth-to-mouth, key to keyhole, so did the essence that comprised their complementary melodies.
Even before the operation to save her heart, Elespeth had always elicited in Alster a magical response. For a disciplined prodigy who did not cast using his emotions, not since early childhood, proximity to Elespeth had always challenged his control. A spark of displaced lightning there, a glass-shattering flare there, but rarely was the leakage hard to curb or contain.
But now, he wasn’t contending with his magic, alone. He was feeding Elespeth’s wild, untamed potential, amplifying its wildness to a perfect storm in miniature. The responsible thing to do would be to stop, divert the energies, dispel the excess, and shield the room before the electricity-borne manifestation of their pleasures wreaked havoc outside.
He didn’t want to stop.
Thoughts bled out of his ears. Oh wouldn’t Hadwin be so proud!? Under her care, he was a conduit, the bottle to catch her lightning. The ensuing ring of thunder split him from his pouch of awkward flesh and bone, transforming him into a being of radiant light. Together, they disintegrated into the ether, plunging into deep pools, deprived of all form, of all senses but of pleasure at its most transcendent. For him, the act of sex with his wife did not tether him to the ground, but transported him to universes at once too vast and too infinitesimal to comprehend, let alone house in such a limiting form as the human body. He departed from the world, but not without the silver cord that attached him to his counterpart, guaranteeing he’d never float aimlessly in space. So long as she held her end of the cord and wrangled him back to earth, he wouldn’t wander alone.
How could he ever fear that she’d untie their cord and release him? How did he ever doubt their love, when the power of their resonance was too undeniable to ignore? She hadn’t given up on him; not by a longshot. By her word, she wanted no one else, and through her actions, he was finally ready to believe that he was worthy of her. Love didn’t ruin them. It strengthened them. They simply needed the reminder.
Alster’s fragile human body demanded air but he refused to release Elespeth’s mouth from the thrall of his frenzied lips and tongue. Fatigue crept from behind his eyes but he did not heed the signs of wear, nor the flare-up agitating the ports around his right arm, where flesh converged with steel. Pain mattered not. Only the ministrations of their perfectly synchronized pas de deux. Like a beloved waltz committed to memory, they swayed in three-count oscillations, mindful of the tune their hearts--and nether-regions--sang.
When they peaked, an entranced audience showered them with applause. So loud were the boisterous claps and cheers that the ground beneath their bed rumbled, overturning tables, shattering decorative vases, knocking sconces from the walls, and popping glass from the window-panes. It wasn’t until licks of lightning scored the walls in streaks of fire that he remembered; along with them, their magic also coupled, combined, and had conceived a collective pulse of energy borne out of love and unbridled passion. It was an unrefined burst, imperfect and crude, like a child’s drawing, but beautiful to behold, because it was something they created together. But he couldn’t laud them for the culmination of their destructive sex--not when someone was bound to get caught in the crossfire.
“I-I’m fine,” he managed aloud, chest heaving, his nerve-endings firing off tingles and shivers in aftershocks of pleasure, but the sensations were not painful. He willingly leaned into her bolstering arms, temporarily forgetting how to operate his limbs, which hung at his sides like useless noodles. “Your magic can’t hurt me. Not when it speaks the same language. But, but...where is Hadwin? Is he...did we--?”
The faoladh did not immediately come when called to, a cause for concern, considering his tendency to flaunt his presence at every opportunity. Did he fail to escape in time? Suffer electrocution too major for his regenerative abilities to mend? Worse--did they fry him from the inside, rendering him effectively dead? For him to succumb to sex-generated lightning was...probably the way he would want to depart from the world, but it still put Alster ill at ease. After what the cheeky gambler had accomplished for them, however profoundly awkward his methods, he deserved life, free from paralysis.
“Fuck.” Hadwin emerged from under their bed, a little uncoordinated and sluggish in his movements, but otherwise functional. By the way he jerked and twitched, he’d been jolted by an errant lightning bolt, but his quick-healing body was gradually purging the shock from his system. “That was…” he presented a shaky grin, “brilliant! Absolutely brilliant! Really took my head for a spin, there. Couldn’t ask for a better birthday present--belated though it is.”
“Ah--happy birthday?” Alster congratulated with an uncertain smile. “I suppose asking if you’re alright is out of the question.”
“Nah, I’m good. I gave you two your space so I missed the brunt of your show-stopping spectacle. Got grazed, though, but hells, it was enough! Can’t say the same of the room, though.” He nodded to the smoldering walls, the litter of disrupted furniture, and the debris of glass and porcelain scattered across the floor. “Got yourselves a real sight. What’re gonna do?”
Though it was the last thing he wanted to do, he scrounged together the last reserves of his energy and escaped Elespeth’s supportive hold. With care, he planted his feet on the floor. Minding the displaced shards, he swept the room for his discarded clothes. “There’s...there’s no rush, Elespeth. Sure, we’ll want to be decent.” Balancing one hand against an unmarred section of wall, he pulled on his trousers and boots. “But it won’t do us any favors to flee the scene. Let’s own up to it. Imagine the unnecessary strain we’ll put on Lilica, Chara, and the kingdom if guards discover the damage and assume an aggressor breached the palace, or that someone has been attacked. I don’t want to worry anyone unnecessarily. So we’ll stay--and tell the guards the truth.”
“Truth or no truth--I was never here.” Hadwin, still naked, scrunched his clothes into a ball and threw them out the window. Free of its glass panes, the winter wind blew its chill through the gaping holes of the sprawling frame. “Gonna honor my deal so you can save face. Pleasure doin’ business with you lovelies. Don’t be a stranger, yeah?” Shaking into his wolf skin, he leapt through the window, rustling through bushes and scampering out of range.
Alster had no time to discuss their strategy in further detail (or to confirm if Elespeth was on board with telling the truth) when the door burst open, revealing four Forbanne guards, weapons drawn. Upon seeing the Rigas Lord and his wife, their attack stances faltered.
“Lord Rigas.” The lead guard bowed his head to acknowledge his respect, but he did not sheathe his sword or disperse the formation. “Are you and Lady Rigas unharmed?”
“It is all a misunderstanding. Nothing of concern.” He stood taller, praying he concealed the stoop present in his bone-weary joints. Absently, he straightened the wrinkles in his tunic and straightened the wrinkles in his troubled countenance. Though he advocated for the truth, nothing about the decision eased him into discussing something so personal to strangers. “What you see here is a magic-related mishap. We’re at fault for the partial destruction of this room. Please don’t inform Queen Lilica or your commander about this; it’s not worth disturbing their slumber over a mere accident.”
“Noted, Lord Rigas, but as protocol dictates,” the lead guard lowered his weapon, “we have to report any and all incidents to those in command, as well as glean the details for the Kingdom of Galeyn’s to record for their archives.”
“Am I not also in command? The Sovereignty of Stella D’Mare is alive and well in Galeyn, and I am its figurehead.” A fierce-set expression dominated the unease, exhaustion, and shaky confidence that was so commonplace in his bearings, as of late. Reestablishing his bond with Elespeth had reinforced the bridge between his self-respect and leadership potential. “Consider this my report. I will offer the details to Queen Lilica and Commander Sorde in the morning. My word is true. You may even escort us to our chambers and post guards both here and at our door in accordance with protocol. This is not an emergency, and as such, there is no immediate action required. All matters will be addressed when the council is in session. The hour is untenable. Please--return to your posts, or stay where you are. Nothing else will be done tonight.”
Miraculously, the guards listened to the counsel of a scrawny, unconvincing sham of a leader, saluted their apologies, and accompanied the couple to their chambers at the opposite end of the hallway. Come morning, they would follow through with his intentions and ensure he reported the damage and the reasons behind said damage. While he wasn’t looking forward to answering to Chara, who would no doubt grill him for details and potentially laugh in his face, for now, he and Elespeth were free to decompress for the reminder of the evening.
For now...they were alone.
Closing the door to their chambers, behind which two Forbanne guards stood on watch, Alster shot a stream of etherea into the fireplace and faced his wife, his ready smile full of guile. “So I said I’d tell them the truth, and I did...but I left out the brunt of it. The Forbanne never have to know. Unfortunately,” he blew out a sigh, “I can’t outmaneuver Chara in the same fashion, so Lilica will know, and Haraldur will know. And, granted Hadwin keeps his trap shut, word of our sexual exploits will remain within our inner circle. But, if I am honest,” he took a seat on his side of the bed, “I’m not ashamed of what we did. I’m talking about the end result, of course. Neither am I ashamed of the co-mingling of our magic, or the mess it made. No one got hurt. Well,” he remedied, “no one aside from a self-proclaimed masochist. Getting here--getting to where we are, now, I mean...I may still have my hang-ups, Elespeth. But I can’t possibly regret what resulted from that wolf’s meddling. The pure euphoria. Our…our resonance has never been stronger. We’ve never...reached such heights, before. Not since your naming ceremony. No--it superseded the naming ceremony.”
He scooted close to Elespeth, who settled on the bed beside him, and cradled her cheek with his organic hand. “I’ve missed you, Elespeth. And I’m...I’m so sorry for everything. I haven’t been very supportive. Or patient. But that will change. I said I would change, so I will. Also,” a flash of mischief colored his eyes an alluring shade of green, “it’s imperative we train you on your magic so we could prevent another…’mishap’ like this. We can’t keep destroying rooms every time we want to be together. One thing I must say, though; your magic ran through me. You channeled its extent into me. Between the two of us, the rest of it spidered outwards and scattered. If this isn’t additional proof that you’re strongest as a channeler, then…” he stoppered his tongue before he flew into a magic-fueled rant. “...I’ll continue to teach you, El. And that brings me to my next point.” Lowering his hand to his lap, his expression sobered and he averted his eyes. “I have to go to the D’Marian village. I’ve given them my word. They’re not happy with the representative we’ve posted there. They want me. Not for my leadership; they don’t particularly fancy me. I’m a divisive figure. But they want me for my magic. I’m powerful and I specialize in defense and healing. They need to feel protected--taken care of. I still need to go, El. However,” he ran his hands up and down her arms in comforting circles, “there are work-arounds. I’ll live there during the day and I’ll spend my evenings here. I’ll refine my portal magic and be here instantaneously. We’ll share this bed; I promise you. After what we’ve had,” he pecked a feisty kiss on her lips, “I can’t ever let you go.”
