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By unspoken agreement, Moonflower only called him by his name when they were alone. It didn’t happen nearly as often as either of them liked, as she had to leave the Crystarium and he had to stay, but it warmed his heart to know she knew who he was. She knew G’raha Tia was there for her along her journey in a more personal way than the Crystal Exarch was. He could never bring himself to visit her room in the Pendants, fearing what people would say, but she regularly spent long periods of time with him in the Ocular as she regaled him with her exploits while he slept, and he told her all about Lyna and the Crystarium’s growth.
But when she came back from Amh Araeng after defeating the Lightwarden there, she pulled him into her room. “Please, G’raha,” she whispered. “Stay with me.”
Moonflower was so ill, so worn out. His heart broke to see her like this; he swore once again that he would save her life. Even if it kills me. “All right, Princess,” he told her, and shut the door behind him. In the sanctuary of her room, he pulled back his hood enough that she might see his face. He could pull it down entirely, but a century of secrecy had made him cautious. Not even seeing her again would remove that caution entirely.
He came over to the table and she joined him. There was still some food left from dinner, enough that she split the remainder and gave him a portion. “I wasn’t too hungry earlier,” she explained to him when he lifted a concerned eyebrow at her. “The… pain, Light, I suppose, keeps wracking my body, and it hurts my stomach too.”
“Moonflower,” he said, but her name got caught in his throat. G’raha picked up her hand and pressed it against his uncrystallized cheek in an attempt to express his emotions. “I do not wish this for you, you must know that.”
She glanced at him wearily and tried to smile. Then, she pulled her hand away so that she could pull him into a hug. “I know you don’t.” She butted her head against his affectionately, her ear brushing his. When she sat up straight and turned to her food, she asked, “But what is your wish?”
“I wish for you to live,” he answered simply. “My greatest wish is to see you go home, safe and alive. And… if I were so selfish as to wish for more… your happiness as well.”
Moonflower blushed. She poked her food for several long, silent moments. Once she mustered the courage to speak, she turned to look him in the eye. Her cheeks weren’t as red as before, but he could still see a pink tinge to them; her voice remained steady as she asked another question. “G’raha… may I call you Raha?”
His eyes widened into saucers as his whole body jerked in shock. She… she can’t be serious, can she? Can she? Moonflower knew enough about Seeker culture to know that asking to call him by his personal name like that was an incredibly intimate, familiar request to make. “I—Why do you ask, Moonflower?” he prevaricated, his mind spinning. He hadn’t heard anyone call him that in over a century.
Her gaze dropped and she started pushing her food around again. “Because you make me happy.”
“You make me happy too.” When she met his eye again, he smiled for her. “Yes, you may call me that. I haven’t heard the name in so long, I forgot what it sounded like. You surprised me, that is all.”
“Thank you, Raha!” she chirped, and this time it was his turn to blush. It would take some getting used to, that was for sure. Perhaps he would be used to it by the day their time together would come to an end.
Moonflower finished her meal with no further reservations, and he ate the portion given to him. Then they poured cups of tea and she let out a sigh after the first sip. Her contentment was perfect… or almost perfect. He still hadn’t asked her what she wished for, after all, and fair was fair. “What is it that you wish for, Moonflower?”
“Don’t laugh,” she said, somewhat defensively.
Bewildered, he replied, “I won’t laugh. Why would I?”
She brought her mug to her face. “Because no one believed me when I’ve said so in the past.”
“I’m not going to laugh,” he insisted. “What is your wish?”
Instead of looking him in the eye, she gazed down into her tea. “I want to have a family. I want to pass the torch of war to someone else and live at home with a husband, and have a lot of kittens. I’ve made enough money for us to be happy.” Then she seemed to steel herself for his reaction.
For his part, he blinked. That—I hadn’t expected that. But perhaps I should have. She was always like this. “That is a noble wish, Moonflower, and one you deserve.” Her eyes popped open in surprise and he put a hand on her shoulder. “A person can’t be expected to fight forever.”
“Thank you, Raha—” she began, and then choked. She slammed the teacup onto the table and then fell off her chair, writhing as sparks of light escaped her body.
“Moonflower!” he cried, dropping to his knees next to her. What could he do? She clearly wasn’t all right, and he knew what was wrong with her. “I’m here,” he said, and let her scrabble to grasp his hands. “I’m here.”
He didn’t know how much time passed, but eventually, the writhing ceased and she fell limp. Her chest heaved as she sucked in air, and tears escaped the corners of her eyes. “It hurts,” she whimpered. “Make it go away, please.”
“I will find a way,” he promised.
“I can’t… I can’t fight like this,” she panted, slowly flipping from her back to her knees. “There’s still so much left to do, so much that I need to do.”
G’raha ran a hand across her ears, soothing her enough until her breathing eased. “You have fought well, my champion. There’s only one Lightwarden left, and then your task will be complete. Let’s get you to bed so that you may rest.”
She wordlessly pressed down on his hands, trying to get to her feet. It took some effort, but eventually they were both standing and carefully walking to the bed. Once there, he gently lowered her onto the mattress, and she kicked off her shoes and the stockings she wore under her dress. They both paused as they thought about whether or not she ought to change out of her gown. “If you turn around, I can change,” she said at last.
“Are you certain you would not rather have me leave?” he asked, a little confused.
“Not yet.” Then she twirled her hand in a “turn around” gesture, which he did so.
Well, I can’t blame her for wanting a friendly face for a while longer, he decided. Lyna liked having me with her when she was sick as a child, after all. At last she said she was ready and he turned back around to sit at the edge of her bed. “Do you want anything?” he asked.
“I’ll be fine,” she replied, and shifted the blankets. “The pain will go away. Could you play me something?”
The hopeful look in her eye convinced him. “All right, just a moment.” He turned his staff into a harp and began to play an old, familiar tune. It was her favorite, and she lit up upon recognizing it. G’raha played through several songs, and stopped when her eyes began drooping. “Good night, Princess,” he said quietly, standing up and going to the door.
“Good night, Raha,” she called after him with a sleepy sigh.