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In the never-ending darkness, Shionne can’t find even a sliver of light to guide her feet. She tries, but stumbles, and finds herself falling, and falling, deeper into her despair.
Every time she remembers (Alphen, reaching out to her), she wants to cry out (she’s reaching out to him too), and ask whichever cruel force led them to one another (but before he can grab her hand), that they had never met at all.
(her thorns pierce him, and he screams in agony).
She’s alone. Again. After all, who would ever come back for a monster like her?
They defy her expectations, but she can’t see them not really.
Not until it’s too late anyway.
The thorns find Rinwell first. The young mage, a little sister to her, is calling out a light arte that should repel the dark energy, but, for once, she’s not quick enough on her feet. While usually deft, she cannot dance around the blades forever. First, they cut her face, stopping her long enough to pierce her heart next.
Shionne hears – and feels - her cry but can do nothing to stop it.
Leave me alone, she thinks, leave me alone and save yourselves!
Law is next. On his knees, devastated by Rinwell’s side, he's an easy target for the evil that resides within. Shionne wants to scream, but she can't. His guard is down, and not one, not two, but three tendrils slam into him with the force of a thousand electric shocks. He’s dead instantly, and next to Rinwell he lays.
Even with fallen companions at their feet, Alphen, Dohalim and Kisara fight on against the chaos within her. Shionne wishes they wouldn’t; they’ll die next, she knows this.
Now, that they sense their threat, her thorns won’t let them live, just as they won’t let her die.
Dohalim, trying in vain to cast healing artes on Rinwell and Law, fails to cover an opening; a thin vine that shoots its way through, and catches his feet. It sweeps him to the ground and stops an arte that would have had no effect anyway. Kisara grunts, determinedly, and comes to his aid, blocking the worst of the thorn with her shield.
But Shionne remembers a conversation they once had about her armour. How she modified it for more ease of movement, leaving an opening from behind.
If anyone is that close anyway, I’m already dead.
Kisara's eyes widen, and her blood spills over Dohalim's pristine robes. She falls into his arms. The thorns kill them both.
Which leaves-
Shionne shakes her head, willing that Alphen will stop his charge, and run while he still can. There’s no hope for her anymore, not with the corpses of their friends around them.
They would still be alive if it hadn’t been for her.
“I’m – not – leaving – you.”
Alphen says this between slashes of the sword that does not burn. It doesn’t do much to stop the thorns advance, however, though he’s able to dodge the ones that persevere towards him.
Even in the fog of her trance, Shionne can see every emotion in his eyes. He looks at her, not as a monster, but as a person, even as the thorns lash out against him.
It's this that reminds Shionne that he's no longer immune to pain, and her thorns roil within her, stronger than ever, as the memory of that fateful day on the ship floods back.
Somehow, Alphen reaches her. He’s holding his hand out, even as the thorns slash furiously at his face. Shionne can’t believe this is the first – and last time – she’ll see him without his mask.
She closes her eyes, and tries, as hard as she can, to reel in the dangerous power she wields.
But then she thinks of Rinwell, and Law. She remembers the looks on Dohalim and Kisara’s faces.
“I’m sorry,” she says, as a sickening crunch rings out in the air.
Alphen falls at her feet.
Just like that, Shionne really is all alone now.
**
When she wakes up, Shionne notices that the sun appears to have already risen. The light shines in through the small window that links the bedroom to the world outside. As she ruminates on this, she feels an ache in her head; the result of a nightmare she’s grown all too used to.
She’s not alone.
She’s here; home, with Alphen. Rinwell studies around the world, Law following her wherever she goes. Both mage and monk call it a coincidence; no one tries to argue with them. Dohalim flits between Lenegis or Elde Menancia; whoever’s issues are more pressing at the time. Kisara works hard, both at achieving her ideal of peace, and on the fishing pond she’s determined will become the best in all of Dahna.
Shionne thinks: they are alive, and so am I.
But there’s one thing she knows will convince her, above all else.
In the sticky heat of the night, she and Alphen have found themselves on opposite ends of the bed. She’s already thrown the cover off hours before, while he’s reached a compromise, the sheet draped over his lower half, his torso on display for her to see.
While troubled by what she’s just dreamed, Shionne still quirks a half smile at the sight.
She shuffles towards him, and when comfortable, grabs the edge of the sheet, and flings it over herself. Despite the heat, she has a terrible chill. Alphen doesn’t stir, and she doesn’t mind.
She just needs to know that he’s there.
Shionne rests her head on Alphen’s shoulder, splaying a hand over his bare chest, feeling the reassuring beat of his heart. While doing this, she inspects the wedding band on her finger. It’s been a few months, since they were married, and it still takes her breath away.
To be able to touch him, to share the relationship that they have. Marriage, companionship, intimacy, and love; she’d known of these things all her life.
It’s something she never thought she’d have; and something she’d fight with all her might to protect.
“Morning.”
Shionne jumps a little, taken aback. She realises, with a start that her nails are now accidentally digging into his skin, the force of her thought catching her off guard, and goes to withdraw her hand almost immediately.
Alphen is quicker, however, and gently curls his hand around her wrist, returning it to its previous position, and showing no discomfort. Shionne, mindful, is as gentle as she can be.
“Sorry,” she says, quietly. “I was just thinking.”
“Thinking, eh?” Alphen says, and with his other hand he grazes her arm gently. “Sounds like a lot.”
From anyone else, that might sound snarky or insincere. From Alphen, it sounds caring and gentle. Shionne doesn't have to tell him about the nightmare; she's done that before.
Still, she thinks about his lifeless eyes again, and squeezes her own shut against what is, importantly, not a memory, but only a figment of her own subconscious.
“We should go see Kisara today. She wouldn’t say, but she misses Dohalim when he’s not around.” Alphen says, after a moment of pondering. “She says she’ll let me try fishing with Migal’s rod, this time, too.”
Shionne knows that means he must be getting good at fishing. She’s not surprised.
“She even says I could start teaching you, if you want.”
Shionne hasn’t been all that sold on the idea of fishing, as much as it enamours both her husband and Kisara. She prefers watching as Alphen casts the line and tries to reel in a fish. When successful, he’ll turn and hold up the creature; Shionne smiles, as he looks for her approval.
After all, she’s much more interested in the eating side of things.
“And what if I want Kisara to teach me?”
Alphen pouts, but Shionne can see that he wants to laugh. She stares at him. One, two, three-
As if on cue, the wonderful sound of his chuckles fills their bedroom, and she joins him.
“Then I wouldn’t argue with you. After all, she’s much better than I am.”
“Not at everything.”
Shionne lifts herself, so that Alphen can free his previously trapped arm. She turns on her front and rests on her own arms. She leans in and kisses him. It’s not short and hungry, like some of their kisses, or slow and savoured, like others. It’s a simple peck; it’s a privilege, thinks Shionne, to be able to kiss him whenever she wants, and she decided, the day she lost her thorns, she wouldn’t hold back, not anymore.
“Rinwell, then?” Alphen suggests. “She’s studying at the Palace, and you know Law will be at the training grounds, still.”
Shionne laughs at the way he says it.
“You know why he spends so much time at the training grounds, right?”
“The librarian.”
They say it in tandem, as if reading each other's minds, and they laugh again. There’s a warmth, thinks Shionne, that’s beyond the close proximity of Alphen, but still connected. It fills her up, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, and she squirms contently, resting her head on his chest.
“If she flirts with him in front of Rinwell one more time-“
“Then Hootle’s going to make sure he loses an eye.”
“Poor Law,” Alphen muses, though he chuckles while saying it.
“He flirts back,” Shionne replies; he’s not deserving of much sympathy in that case. “He knows that it makes Rinwell jealous.”
“Even if he doesn’t know why he cares so much.”
Shionne nods, at Alphen’s understanding of the situation. One that they, Dohalim and Kisara understand more than the two youngest members of their former party, who are involved in it.
Of course, they can’t comprehend their feelings quite yet. They’re young, and Shionne’s sure when they’re ready, it will all fall into place.
“Whatever you want to do, or wherever you want to go, or see,” Alphen says, “just say the word, and I’ll be right beside you.”
“Even if it’s this bed?”
“Even if it’s this bed.”
Shionne smiles, and kisses his cheek, before falling into his arms, and letting herself relax fully. It’s funny, she thinks, the way she doesn’t need to hear the words anymore, or at least, all the time.
Alphen’s told her them plenty of times before.
You’re not alone.
He suggests they visit their friends, who stay close by both in mind and body. He indulges trips to the city, and beyond. He’s the first to be there to try one of her new recipes, making her feel that she’s the best chef in the world – even if the spice ratio isn’t quite to his standards. By reaching out to hold her hand, or pull her close, the way he did before her curse was lifted, Shionne is sure of it.
You’re not alone.
He reminds her, every day, in big and little ways that make her heart soar.
**
As Shionne lays against him, Alphen knows one thing for absolute certain.
He will never stop reminding her, no matter how long it takes.