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Odette hadn’t expected things to turn out this way. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected in the first place. She knew what she wanted--for Warci to come home and be the same as the day he’d left, all smiles and laughs and songs, and everything would finally fall into place. But as for what she expected? She wasn’t sure. In all the years he’d been away, Warci could’ve come back to her as anyone. He could’ve never come back at all.
That’s not what happened. Instead, she and Edith came to him. Piquiri had appeared on her doorstep one day and told her that he knew her husband and could take both her and her daughter to him. They’d gone, of course, how could they not? But as Piquiri explained everything on the stagecoach, Odette had begun to have doubts. She cursed herself for having them, but it was difficult to keep them at bay when she remembered the young lady sitting beside her (Edith looked so much like her father, was the last piece of him that Odette had for so long, the most precious thing in Odette’s life).
Piquiri spent the entire ride to the Hamlet talking. There was a lot of ground for him to cover--both about where they were going and the exact state that Warci was in. From his description, Odette could understand that it was indeed Warci, but it was off. It sounded like him, sounded like him enough to make her heart clench, but it was warped somehow. Changed.
Her Warci wasn’t vindictive, wasn’t bitter, wasn’t quite so harsh. He wasn’t so violent, so reckless, so insecure about his own face. She’d seen inklings of some of these things before--his jokes could be a bit rude and he could run into things without looking both ways, but never to this extent. Never to the extent of publicly humiliating people, and never to the extent of toying with death.
But her Warci was a performer, a man who glowed in the spotlight. He thrived off the happiness of others, would do anything to bring out some smiles, especially in the throngs of commonfolk. He made friends easily, and spent most of his time outside among them, strumming and singing and poking fun. He told her once, long ago when they were still courting, that he loved his job because it let him make other people’s lives a little less terrible. Uprisings were never his scene. He instead preferred to improve life one moment at a time.
Odette remembered him as being like the sun: warm, bright, comforting, offering relief and solace after a long, dark night. She’d just been through her own seemingly endless night, and dawn was finally on the horizon (but would the sun be the same as when it had set? Already, she could see the fringes begin to distort over the edge of the world. All stars die, no matter how shining, no matter how beloved).
Still, tears pricked her eyes when they reached the old road, and Piquiri told her just how much Warci had missed her, how he still loved her more than anything, and how he so badly wanted to meet his child.
Then Odette was in the run-down old Hamlet, alone, peeking out from the shadows of a building at the crowd surrounding a local street performer who filled the air with familiar notes and an achingly familiar laugh. Piquiri had insisted that she and Edith meet Warci at separate times, because both of them at once might be too much for him to handle or process. He’d also suggested that Odette be the one to take the first step, as Warci would definitely recognize her. There had been no argument, not even the chance for one. All of a sudden, Edith was sent off with one of the other mercenaries (a sweet vestal, young form wrapped in white robes), and Piquiri whisked Odette off to the center square of town. Now he had entered the crowd, and Odette waited. She waited and lost herself to the voice that for years had only lived in her happiest memories.
The performance wrapped up sooner than she was ready for. The crowd dispersed, and Odette kept herself huddled against the wall of her hiding place, out of sight, out of mind. Still, she craned her neck to keep looking, eyes scanning the crowd, searching for familiar purple and bells (evidence that she hadn’t been hearing things the whole time).
Her breath caught in her throat when she finally caught sight of him. He looked different, for sure, but it was still so obviously him. She could hear his voice amidst the rabble of the dispersing crowd, could see him making the same gestures he always made, and though his outfit had become worn down with age, she’d recognize the cloth that she kept having to stitch back up for him anywhere (she’d eventually taught him how to sew properly, and judging by the discolored patches, he’d made good use of that skill).
Then Piquiri started walking towards the building and the shadow Odette hid in, Warci in tow. Odette ducked behind the structure, fully out of sight and fully still, pressed against the wall as she listened to the approaching men. Her heart hammered so hard against her ribs that it shook her down to her core, left her unsteady enough that she was certain she’d faint if she had to stand on her own. She shouldn’t be scared. She should be excited. She’d waited so long for this one day, this one moment, but even so she couldn’t help her anxiety. No particular worst case scenarios stood out to her, but the dread still laid thick and heavy over her shoulders.
Piquiri cut off the banter. “Alright, before I show you the surprise, you gotta promise me something.”
“Oh but of course! I didn’t think for a second that I’d get anything free from a crook.” That’s him, that’s him, that’s him…! “Go on, name your price, just know I’d sell my soul before I sell you my lute.”
“Nah, you’re getting off easy this time. Just promise that you won’t freak out.”
“Won’t freak out…? Piquiri, you know I’m the one who does the stupid stuff between the two of us, right? You aren’t about to put me outta a job, are you?”
“I don’t think so. You might have second thoughts, but that’s your own problem. Now, do we have a deal, or am I gonna have to send them home?”
“...Wait a minute...Piquiri, no, you didn’t…”
“I could’ve. For the price of one measly promise, you can find out.”
A pause, then a deep breath. “...Okay, I swear to you that I’m not gonna freak out.”
“Atta boy. I’ll leave the two of you be.” Piquiri came around the back, and as he passed her, Odette could barely see the edges of a smirk under his neckerchief. “He’s all yours. Go to him.”
Then Piquiri was gone, and Odette was left alone again, except she wasn’t alone at all. Her long-lost husband was just around the corner, he was right there, but still her legs refused to move her. Just the thought of trying to walk made her head and stomach tilt in unison. Despite how his footsteps made her every nerve pulse with anxiety, she was thankful that Warci was the one to cross the distance.
And then she saw the spot of purple in her peripheral vision, and suddenly they were children again, playing hide-and-seek out by the creek. She was never good at that game--always chose the same places to hide.
Odette forced herself to turn to him, hated how much effort it took. The smile came so easily, though. “...Hey sweetpea.”
Warci stayed silent for a long moment, but she could feel his eyes on her, looking her up and down. At least she wasn’t the only one who thought this was a bit overwhelming (Piquiri was right, bringing Edith along too would have only further complicated things).
“By the gods,” Warci breathed, “that madman...he actually went and did it…”
Odette blinked, confused, but Warci shook off his stupor before she could ask any questions.
“Right, then. Come on, let’s go somewhere a bit more private, I know just the place,” Warci said, so much in his voice that it all cancelled itself out and became unreadable.
Odette swallowed, nodded, cautiously putting her weight on her own two feet again and trailing along after Warci. He was quiet, far more than she ever remembered. He’d never gone stiff and silent like this, not even when he was at his lowest points (Piquiri never told her about this, but maybe he never knew him any other way). His entire life had been expression, always had been, and yet that side of him had disappeared for the time being.
It was...disconcerting. It roused the doubts that Odette had momentarily forgotten, but she stamped them down all over again. No, no, she should have expected him to be different now. A lot had obviously happened since he left, and gods knew what he’d been through in that period of time (the dirk and sickle strapped to his belt glinted in the sun, beautifully sharpened despite the hard-fought etches and scratches). Still, she kept waiting for him to break the silence, to say something, anything, but still nothing came. The walk was silent except for the soft crunches of the grass under their feet and the bells that sounded so strangely hollow now.
They reached the private place--a circle of strange stones on the outskirts of the Hamlet. The slabs were scrawled in otherworldly etchings, and while they were too tall to peer over, whatever they hid sent an eerie blue light glowing and pulsating through the cracks in the barrier. The Hamlet itself hadn’t unnerved Odette too much, but this was different. This was something Piquiri hadn’t mentioned to her. This made the hairs on her arms stand on end, and the doubts began to worsen as she stared at Warci’s back and he still kept quiet.
They walked the perimeter for a short while until Warci abruptly stopped and turned to face her. “What are you doing here?”
“I...we...came to see you,” Odette explained, her throat going dry. “What are we doing here? What is...all this?” She waved her hands at the barrier of stones and their beating light.
“Oh, this? This is the Farmstead,” Warci rested a hand on one of the old stones like this was the most normal thing in the world, bits of it falling away at his touch. “Don’t worry, nothing ever comes outta here that didn’t go in first. And also the Heiress already sent a band of us out, so no one’s gonna be coming by and stirring up trouble today.” His hand slipped from the stone. “Things like this are the reason you shouldn’t be here.”
“I beg your pardon?” Odette refused to admit to herself how heavily her pulse spiked at Warci’s darker tone.
“This place is dangerous, Odette. Piquiri shouldn’t have brought you here, and you shouldn't have accepted, and...you said ‘we,’ didn’t you? Our daughter, she came along with?”
“I...well, yes, but she wanted to find you just as much as I did.” Odette straightened her posture. “She missed you, Warci. Even if she didn’t know you. You cannot imagine how much I’ve missed you too.”
Warci paused, grabbed at his ring finger, shook his head. “Nevermind that, nevermind it all! You shouldn’t have come here, and you especially shouldn’t have dragged our kid along too-”
“Edith. Her name is Edith. Piquiri said he told you her name, why don’t you use it?”
“Because…” Warci’s voice cracked. He stopped to clear his throat. “...Because I’m the one who wanted to call her that, if she was a girl--which she obviously is, but...gods, this is already hard enough for me, okay?”
Odette stepped forward. “No one ever said you have to do this.”
Warci stepped back. “I did. I do. If I was going to see you again, I wanted it to be because I got out of this place, not that you fell down the rabbithole after me. This is…'' his voice broke again. He didn’t stop to suppress it this time. “It’s...why I never came home. This is my worst nightmare, Odette, please...please go home. I’ll be alright here by myself, just...look, this place gets its hooks in you, and once it has you it never lets you go, and I can’t...I don’t-”
“Warci, Warci, dear...shh…” Odette stood right in front of him, her hand cupping his cheek and resting their foreheads together. “Shh…”
Warci went silent, all except for the shaky breaths he was trying to get under control. Odette’s free hand found his, held it, rubbed the back of it with her thumb. His grip immediately tightened, and she knew just how much he wanted her to stay (it was always about expression--a gesture said what words couldn’t, and one of the many benefits of marrying your best friend was knowing every last one by heart).
Tell me this isn’t a dream, or a nightmare, or an illusion. Tell me you’re really here.
“I know you’re worried,” Odette murmured, “and I know that you want to keep me and Edith safe, but we’ve both made our choice. Any danger is worth weathering if it means we can finally be a family. You hear me? You’re worth it, Warci.”
“You can’t just say things like that…” Warci meekly tried to protest. “You don’t know what we’re up against here.”
“True, but you know me. I learn fast. Besides, won’t it be easier to protect us if we’re right there with you?” Odette pulled back just enough that she could look him in the face, masked as it was, her hand drifting down to rest on his shoulder. “We’re partners, you and I. We have been since we were kids, and I’m not abandoning you now.”
A short, mirthless laugh. “I can’t even recognize myself in the mirror anymore, and you’re still acting like everything’s the same as the day I left home. Gods, Odette, you were always too good for me.”
“No, I’d say I’m just the right amount of good for you.” Odette allowed herself to show the ghost of a smile.
When she tried to lift her hands to his mask to remove it, however, he grabbed hold of both of her wrists to stop her. “Hang on, let’s slow down here. I’m not the looker I was anymore. When I said I couldn’t recognize myself, I meant it. It’s...real bad.”
“Warci...” Odette’s voice was soft as the look in her eyes. “Come now, let me see the man I married.”
Warci squeezed her wrists, but let go, let her gingerly remove his mask.
Odette wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting to see. She’d been hoping that he’d looked unchanged, at least for the most part, but that wasn’t realistic. She was dreading that he’d have some hideous wound that needed to be hidden for the sake of not horrifying everyone around him, and with everything she now knew, that probably was realistic. She got neither, because she got both. He still looked the same, were it not for the evidence of a hard, harsh life that criss crossed his skin, or trailed down the entire side of his face. Scars, burns, breaks that never healed, endless fatigue...her sun had been dying for a long time, it seemed.
Still, she recognized the spattering of freckles that dotted his face, faded as they were. Even if whatever she’d missed in their years apart had stolen his happiness, she could still see the laugh lines that said he had been happy once. In the midst of all the shadows, she saw the speckles of light in his irises. He was still alive, and that’s all Odette needed.
“There you are, my Warci...there you are.” She reached out again, cradled his face so gently in her hands, as if she’d hurt him more if she were too rough with him.
He immediately learned into the touch, gave her that sweet, genuine smile of his that she hadn’t seen in years, and she had to swallow down the lump in her throat. No matter what she had or hadn’t been expecting, catching even this small glimpse of what he’d been put through made her heart ache.
“What happened?” She whispered, almost afraid to ask. “What did they do to you?”
Now that the mask was off, she could see it when he started to tear up even as he smiled. “Everything.”
Odette’s soul cried out, longed to make it better somehow, and before she knew it, she’d pulled him into a kiss. His arms were around her in a second, pulling her closer, almost needy even as the kiss remained sweet. He’d always been oh so sweet to her, and any remaining doubts she had were driven away by how that, at least, remained unchanged. No matter what, he was still hers. He’d never stopped being hers.
Everything was okay for a moment when they pulled apart. No anxieties, no worries, just her and Warci having a bit of time to themselves, and suddenly they were teenagers again, sneaking off together across the farmer’s fields to the edge of their world, where they could perch side-by-side on the drop and forget that there was anything outside of this (sometimes they’d climb the trees, but Odette was never good at that, no matter how many times Warci tried to teach her). All that mattered was Warci smiling in her hands, the sound of his light chuckling, his arms still secure around her.
Then the tears started to fall, and he pulled her in close again, burying his face in her shoulder as his laughter turned to quiet sobs. Odette nearly stumbled, but recovered quickly. The next second, she’d guided the two of them down to the grass (he was shaking so much that she worried his legs would give out on him), her back against the old stone barrier around the farmstead, Warci clinging onto her like a lifeline as she held him close in turn. At some point, she eased his hat off his head so she could run her fingers through his dark curls. He didn’t react to any of it, and she was left only to hope that it was reaching him, wherever he’d been stolen away to. He almost never cried, not even to her, and certainly never this openly, this desperate for comfort.
She saw the eerie glow from behind the stones brighten in her peripheral vision, but she refused to pay it any mind. She didn’t care what was happening on the other side of the rocks, didn’t care when she heard shuffling footsteps or the dull scraping of something being dragged across the ground. Warci needed her, and not even the end of the world would take her attention away from him. She hadn’t been there to help him through whatever “everything” entailed, but by the gods, she’d be there to help him pick up the pieces now.
And suddenly it was their last day together again, Warci peppering her face with kisses one last time before he was shipped off to the lap of luxury, promising that they’d be reunited in time to raise their child together (she was never good at goodbyes, so she’d refused to let go of him, of his promise, and no matter how much time passed or how bleak the future became, she would wait for the sunrise). Of course it couldn’t be that simple. It could never be that simple. Something had to go wrong, some nobles had to die and Warci had to be accused of it. The entire world had to turn against him, bend him until he broke, until he couldn’t come home, until he thought she and Edith were better off without him.
Odette held him tighter, pressed a kiss against the side of his head, rocked him back and forth. It’s okay now, I’ve got you, I’m here. I love you, I love you, I love you…
The glow of the farmstead dimmed, returned to its normal intensity as it pulsed a silent rhythm. Good. Damn that glow for trying to intrude, and damn this estate for keeping Warci from her, and damn the nobles that took him in the first place, and in the name of the gods, damn this entire world for wounding her sunshine so deeply. And if the gods were responsible, then damn them as well. Damn them all.
Warci calmed down gradually. His sobs trailed off into hiccups and whimpers, his trembling died down, and his grip on her relaxed. She didn’t say anything, keeping her arms where they were and continuing to play with his hair. When he was feeling better, he’d let her know. For now, she wanted to give him this moment of peace for however long he’d have it.
“Oh!” Warci pulled back enough to look her in the face. “Before you take me back, I uh...might’ve lost my wedding ring…”
Odette stared at him for a moment before she giggled. “You can’t seriously think that matters to me more than actually getting to see you again. After all, it’s not like you went and slept with a bunch of other women...did you?”
Warci appeared offended or disgusted at the very idea. “What? No! I’d never dream of it! Besides, you made my standards way too high.”
“Then it’s alright. If you still love me after we’ve been apart for so long, then I don’t need you to be wearing a ring to know that you’re mine.”
“And I do! Still love you, I mean. I never stopped, even when I’d miss you so much that it hurt, I...gods, I missed you so much.”
Odette wiped at the tear tracks on his face with her thumb. “I missed you too.”
Warci smiled at her again, less hindered than before, lighter and warmer and brighter, and Odette could’ve cried herself at the sight. He took her hand and kissed it, before rolling over to sit beside her.
Once he was settled, Odette shifted closer and rested her head against his shoulder. “How about we stay here a little longer? You look like a mess anyway.”
Warci snickered, rubbing at his still-watery eyes with a gloved hand. “I sound like a mess too. Can’t sing when my voice is all weird.” He coughed into his sleeve, as if that would loosen his throat. “Hey, where is Edith, anyway? You said she was here too.”
“She is. She’s just with one of your friends right now. Piquiri said that meeting both me and her at once would be too much for you.”
“Oh for pity’s sake. I nearly die one time and suddenly he thinks I’m a delicate stained glass window or something.”
“You nearly what?”
“Water under the bridge. Who’s Edith with?”
“Well...I don’t know her name, but she’s small, dark-skinned, wore white robes and battle armor…”
“Oh, that’s just Ville. Edith’s in good hands--little Ville’s gotten me and the guys outta so many scrapes in the past however long we’ve been here, it’s incredible.”
And from there, it was normalcy, or at least, a new sort of it. It was almost the old sort at points, but not often, and never for long. That wasn’t to say the new sort was bad, just different. Warci was still the same at his core, but there was so much else to him now that Odette needed to learn. She learned where he got his scars from, learned about his near-death experiences, about the Collector and the brigands, about the truth of the fates of his employers, and about the expedition into the depths of the old mansion atop the hill that made him wake up terrified in the middle of the night.
The more she learned, the more she vowed to keep the silent promise she’d made to him during their reunion at the farmstead, that she was going to be protecting him from now on. She couldn’t stop him from getting hurt or sick during expeditions, but she could make sure that none of the damage stuck around when he came home. She could do nothing for the scars he already had, so she gave her all to prevent any new ones from forming. He’d been through enough with only the ghosts that hung off him to show for it.
Piquiri stopped her outside one day, thanking her for coming to the estate with Edith. He’d seen a noticeable change in Warci since they arrived--the jester seemed far more careful on expeditions for one thing, no longer actively rushing into deadly situations without any hesitance. He had much more energy (Piquiri implied that he hadn’t been sleeping or eating much before), walked with a spring in his step like a weight had been lifted from him, and even his normal voice sounded lighter. He was finally letting himself heal, and Piquiri was grateful to Odette and Edith for encouraging him to do so.
Odette thought about what Piquiri said that night, stared at the ceiling and mulled over it as Warci slept huddled up by her side with his arm draped across her (it helped keep the nightmares at bay, he’d claimed). It was hard, sometimes. Warci had been thoroughly traumatized by everything that happened to him, and Odette wasn’t about to pretend like that didn’t make him more high-maintenance than he was before. She wasn’t going to pretend like everything was perfect--she hadn’t expected it to be. What exactly she had expected, she wasn’t sure. Maybe she hadn’t expected anything, just hoped for some things and dreaded others.
Her biggest fear had been that he’d moved on from her, or thought of her differently, or that something else between them had changed. Instead, she found that he loved her as much as he did when he’d first confessed, when he’d proposed, and when he’d left home with hopes of giving her and their baby a better life. As long as that was true, nothing else mattered, however same or different they were from before.
Odette rested her hand on Warci’s arm and fell asleep to the sound of his steadied breathing. Whatever her expectations (or lack thereof) had been, this was where they were, and she was more than happy with it.