Chapter Text
“Promise me one thing, Rhian?”
“Anything.”
“When I’m gone,” Zorah started, but paused when Rhian’s hold on her tightened from behind, where they sat snuggled in the chair together.
Zorah had never shied away from the reality of their situation, but that didn’t mean Rhian had to like it.
“Zor,” Rhian breathed. She turned to look up at her, and Rhian was hit by the subtle signs of her age— the shine of a few lighter strands in her dark hair, the slight lines around her eyes.
Rhian didn’t need to look in a mirror to know she remained unchanged, despite the decades.
“Please, Rhian,” her wife implored.
Rhian sighed, “Okay.”
“When I’m gone, please promise me you’ll open yourself up to love again.”
Rhian’s breath caught. That wasn’t where she’d expected the conversation to go. “You know me finding someone else is as likely as, oh, I don’t know,” Rhian waved her hand, laughing, “me getting abducted by aliens, right?”
Zorah shook her head against Rhian’s chest, “You’re so dramatic, you know?”
“One of the things you love about me,” Zorah scrunched up her face as Rhian planted a kiss against her temple.
“Yeah, yeah,” she shrugged her off, “But…?”
Rhian pulled her in, “Okay. If the absolutely impossible should happen, I promise to be open to whatever the future may hold.
“But you know me, Zor…”
Zorah nodded, “I do.”
“Then you know I might never…” Rhian trailed off, not feeling the need to finish that thought.
“I know,” Zorah tucked her head closer, “I know how you elves can be. That loving like this can go either way. That either I’m the only one, or…”
She went silent, and Rhian didn’t fill in the blank.
“But I know which I want for you…”
Rhian hadn’t realized how tired she’d been, waking from her meditation to sunlight peeking through the front of the tent and the quiet movements of their companions outside. It was a rare thing for anyone to be up before her, save maybe Minthara.
The events of the prior night hit her quickly, dropping like a weight. Moving to turn, she stopped, finally taking note of the actual weight loosely laid across her hip. Laying on her side, she still had her back to Shadowheart, but it seemed her cleric had taken it upon herself to move closer in the night, her forehead pressed between Rhian’s shoulder blades, arm slung over her side. Whether it had been intentional or not, Rhian couldn’t guess. She found she was growing more and more fond of being close to Shadowheart, though, and she didn’t mind the contact.
Gently, Rhian rolled over, doing her best not to disturb her. It was an effort made in vain, as once she could see her, she found Shadowheart blinking at her, not quite awake, yet not quite asleep anymore.
“Sorry, love,” Shadowheart mumbled, pulling back.
Rhian caught her, making a disgruntled sound that set her to chuckling, pulling Shadowheart’s hand to her chest. “You can just ask, you know,” her words slurred, and she stifled a yawn.
Rhian felt her face go red, flushing to the tips of her pointed ears. Damn her, she thought, she really can read me like a book.
Relinquishing her hand, Rhian slid closer, shuffling further down into the blankets of their shared bedroll. “Will you…” Rhian struggled with the words, she felt silly to ask, but this was Shadowheart, after all.
“Will you hold me?” she finally managed.
Shadowheart enveloped her, pulling Rhian against her chest, one arm cradling her head, the other slipping across her side to press against her back. Rhian settled closer, feeling their bodies press together like two perfectly matched pieces, sliding one leg between Shadowheart’s to hook her closer.
With her forehead pressed against the top of her sternum, Rhian could feel Shadowheart’s breathing even out again, her hold relaxing and limbs growing heavy on Rhian when she dozed back off.
Rhian closed her eyes, content to lay here with her, tangled together in the early morning quiet. Anything else could wait.
Shadowheart had filled her in on the rest of the prior night— once they’d finally resigned themselves to getting out of bed, the promise of breakfast too tempting to pass up— everything she had missed after the Emperor, as the illthid called itself, had finally revealed its ruse.
Orpheus. The githyanki prince, bound and trapped in the Astral Prism. The source of their protection from becoming mind flayers. Rhian didn’t know what to make of that, just that Vlaakith’s insistence on killing the one inside the Prism made much more sense now. She hadn’t been referring to Zor- the Emperor, she swiftly corrected herself with a scowl.
The key to ending Vlaakith’s reign, in the palm of their hand all along… Rhian’s eyes landed on Lae’zel, across camp. She was moving through battle stances, fluid as water, her furrowed brow the only indication she was thinking of something other than her movements. She imagined she was probably thinking of running the ghaik through with the very blade she was wielding.
A pair of boots entered Rhian’s field of view on the ground in front of her. Shielding her eyes from the sun— gods, she was never going to take that for granted again after their time in the shadow-curse— she found Shadowheart joining her, nimbly folding down to sit next to her in front of her— their— tent.
Rhian silently offered her hand when she sat, pleased when Shadowheart took it, intertwining their fingers. If she could only ignore the dried blood around camp, the lethal gith warrior swinging her sword into imaginary foes, and the pressure of the tadpole, sitting here in the sun on a quiet day, holding hands with Shadowheart… Warmth from more than just the sunlight flowed through her. It felt so very domestic. So very normal.
“Not… that I’m complaining,” Shadowheart tapped a finger against the back of her hand, “But you seem to be a tad… shall we say, out of sorts?”
Rhian knew what she meant. Her cleric had gotten used to her oddities, had been one of the first— not of her companions, even, but in her life— to have picked up on her aversion to being touched, and had been respectful in not pushing her, on a great many things, namely in not wanting to talk after, and about, certain events. Rhian had felt something shift in the past several hours, it wasn’t surprising she had picked up on it, too.
Looking at their joined hands, then back up to meet Shadowheart’s earnest gaze, she was hit again by the shock of her white hair. She positively glowed in the sunlight, radiant light bouncing off the platinum in a halo around her.
“I had the time, last night, when I was meditating, to just let my mind wander. Sorting through my thoughts on the— the Emperor— and my feelings for Zorah.”
Rhian shook her head, a lightness to her chest with remembering just what her wife had wanted for her future, and the realization she’d had where the Emperor was concerned. “I still love her, Shads. And I can’t— won’t— let that illithid bastard sully that, or the life we had. Whatever it showed me, pretended to be… it doesn’t matter. She’s gone.”
In a more true-to-Rhian fashion, Shadowheart dropped her hand with the conviction of Rhian’s words, drawing up her knees. Rhian had seen the shift with the admission, her face falling. How could she not still love her, after all? But to voice it… “I’m… glad, that you’re able to do that,” Shadowheart finally said, watching Rhian, “You didn’t deserve that.”
“Thanks, Shads,” Rhian leaned back on one hand, turning her body towards Shadowheart, “I still need a little time, to sit with everything, I think. But I was reminded of something she told me, gods… ages ago. I’ll find a way to—“
Her voice caught in her throat, a surge of emotion hitting her again. She blew out a shaky breath before continuing, “I’ll find a way to lay her to rest again.”
Nodding absentmindedly, Shadowheart seemed a million miles away. “Hey,” Rhian reached for her, gently lifting her chin to get Shadowheart to look at her, “My feelings for you have not changed, I promise.”
Shadowheart tilted her head to kiss the inside of her wrist, and Rhian could have melted on the spot, especially when she said, “I’ll help you, of course. Whatever you need, to…”
“To move on,” Rhian finished, chasing away any awkwardness between them, “It feels almost like starting over, having lost her again. But…”
Rhian steeled herself. Talking about her past, these feelings, with anyone, had always been alien. After Zorah had died, she’d let their friendships die with her, shoving away anyone and everyone in an attempt to drown out the pain of her loss, to avoid it. Not this time. “Thank you. Having you here, it’s made a world of difference already.”
Shadowheart answered by moving closer, thigh pressing against hers. The soft, mischievous glint in her eyes had Rhian lowering her head, brushing her lips against her’s in a gentle press. Shadowheart kissed her, soft and sweet, chasing away any lingering doubt, making her believe that she’d get through this, too.