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The night the Scions of the Seventh Dawn returned from Ultima Thule should have been one of celebration, and, in some ways, it was—rather, the day had been. The Warrior of Light, Asha Eveningwish, had scarcely a moment to herself once she stepped foot on Sharlayan soil. Anyone and everyone wished to speak with her and her comrades, their words filled with pure gratitude, praise, and in some cases, reverence. Having such an extensive history of world-saving adventures should have prepared her for this, though all she could think about was how much she wanted to fling herself onto her bed in the Baldesion Annex and sleep for a moon.
Flinging herself would be rather difficult, considering her injuries, and she wanted to avoid earning the "ire" of Alisaie and G'raha especially. The two (rather, Alisaie, with some occasional sidebar from G'raha) had given her an extensive lecture in the time it took for the Ragnarok to descend. At the very least she had gotten some touching hugs out of it, even if Alisaie's had been a mite too tight.
Once the chaos had died down as much as it could, all things considered, Alphinaud and Urianger insisted on taking another look at Asha's injuries. The pair had been afforded little time to ponder the situation between fervent prayers for Asha to awaken and hurrying back to Etheriys.
"I fear there is naught else I can do for thee, my friend," Urianger had told her. "The injuries thou hath sustained should be grave, however..." He furrowed his brows, strangely at a loss for words. Whether he was shaken up, tired, or simply lacking for answers, his face did not betray the truth.
When Urianger didn't resume his train of thought, Alphinaud piped up. "You aren't going to like this, however we both agree that you need ample rest. Proper rest. I dare say you will be out of commission for some time."
"Is there nothing I could do?" Asha asked, reaching for her staff—Ingrimm—and wincing as she did so. Pain shot through her arm all the way down to her fingertips, turning her small wince to a cry. She was their most talented healer, in G'raha's words; surely she could figure something out. "This is all beyond the realm of magic?" In spite of being a healer, however, she knew next to nothing about its non-magical practices. She had grown far too used to casting a simple spell or two, and she felt good as new.
Urianger nodded, offering comfort in resting his hand on her shoulder.
"If it's of any reassurance," A lingering Y'shtola made her presence known, "there's not a thing wrong with your aether. I believe dynamis is part of the answer we seek. I will consult Nidhana another time, though I believe what we learn will merely satisfy our curiosity rather than assist in your recovery."
"Prithee, rest for now," Urianger concluded. "Thou hath more than earned it."
With no clear explanation to go off of, Asha was advised by Y'shtola to be careful as she maneuvered through the remainder of the day. There was no stopping her, the Scions all knew as much, though it would hardly stop them from at least trying. Any other day and Urianger and Alphinaud's words wouldn't have stirred her. After trudging along for hours, even if the walking was but a fraction of the climb that had been the path to Meteion, it was a miracle she could even carry herself away from her friends and to the Baldesion Annex. Her eyelids weighed heavy, her boots dragged across the ground, and she felt what seemed like every bone in her body, lit aflame even after the massive amount of spells her friends had casted on her.
"No one is without their limits—and you are no exception." G'raha's words echoed in her mind as she staggered on into the Annex. She put on her best smile and waved to Ojika before disappearing into the Andron, only to find her room occupied.
G'raha's ears perked up as the door opened, and Asha watched his face light up, his eyes made of crimson warmth and adoration. Would that she could feel that warmth she otherwise always reciprocated, that she could cast aside all of the tumult inside her head and find peace in her partner's embrace.
How could she know peace when she had watched him sacrifice himself again? For it had taken every fiber of her being to not tell G'raha that she couldn't do this, not again, and to instead trust in their promises, something that had never failed them. It was one thing to put on a brave face for him, for all of her loved ones, even as she lost them one by one. It was another to actually be brave, especially in the face of such a tremendous loss. To give up would be to reject everything the Scions had stood for. Asha didn't have it in her to admit defeat, not with the entire Source at stake, though to say the emptiness that creeped in the further her path to Meteion extended hadn't left its mark on her would be the grandest of lies. She had lost one family, and she refused to lose another.
But instead of feeling relief, she was frustrated as she met G'raha's eyes.
"Ah, there you are!" He greeted, closing the book he had been reading in favor of meeting her halfway. "Has all of Sharlayan finally decided to give you a—"
Asha threw her arms around him, burying her head in the crook of his neck.
"—break..." As Asha trembled against him, G'raha's hands tentatively found her shoulders. "Asha?"
Asha sputtered incoherently, her voice catching in her throat each time she attempted to speak. How she wanted to scream , force something out of her throat, these thoughts out of her head. She couldn't remember the last time she had cried like this, felt the powerlessness of not being able to speak. None of the Scions had seen her this way, meaning it must have been before she arrived in Gridania, seeking out the Conjurer's Guild. A lifetime ago, where she once gazed out upon the sea below Terncliff each and every day, prayers to the kami lost on the wind.
G'raha brought her closer and kissed the top of her head, slowly bringing his fingers through strands of her dark violet hair. "You've had an unbearably long day," he said. "Pray, don't force yourself. We can talk about this in the morning, need be."
Asha shook her head, as much as she could in her position. After a moment of grappling with her vocal cords, she strained to say, "I'm sorry." She was known to have a quiet voice, however this was no less than pure defeat.
G'raha, perceptive as ever, caught on. "If this is about earlier... I should be the one apologizing. It was unfair of me, chastising you when I had just done the same thing myself."
Asha made a strange noise of disagreement as she tried to steady her breathing. "Not...just...that." Alisaie had made the bigger deal of it, anyway, though she had made it rather difficult for G'raha to get a word in edgewise. Were they in the same position, she wondered? She had seen him die once before, and this was not his first attempted sacrifice. In contrast, G'raha had never had this sort of scare with her. All of these thoughts sprung to mind, but her body revolted every way it could.
G'raha stepped back, revealing to himself her tear-stained face and how it made her freckles glitter. It would have been a beautiful sight, had it not been born from pain. The tears continued, in spite of her best efforts. "I...need..." she clenched her fists. "Rest. I need rest."
Almost instantly, G'raha guided her to her bed, hands protective of her battered, bandaged form. Her feet suddenly rooted to the ground; she had to drag herself the short distance there, even with G’raha assisting her. Pins and needles pricked all throughout her as she sat. G'raha reached for her hand.
"Do you want me to stay?"
She nodded. Upset as she was, she could never turn him away. Never. She prayed that he heard her silent, "Please."
Though she was still in her newly tailored outfit from Tataru (already incredibly worse for wear after facing Zenos), she shuffled under the covers, not even caring to remove her shoes. Her eyes might as well have slammed shut, refusing to open. Facing the darkness of the back of her eyelids, she whispered, "I love you, Raha."
"I love you, too," came his reply. "Sleep well."
***
Sleep well she did. Darkness claimed her within mere seconds. She didn't awake until the Sharlayan sky burned orange, the sun's rays poking through her window and blinding her as she opened her eyes. Feebly she lifted her arm to cover her eyes, only to catch G'raha sitting at the table in the center of the room, absorbed in whatever tome he was reading. As soon as Asha tried sitting up, however, said tome was long forgotten. G'raha rushed to her side, steadying her.
"You're up early," he said with that ever-present kind smile. When Asha tilted her head in confusion, he added, "Earlier than I expected, at least."
Asha's bemusement shifted to panic, sparking a similar reaction in G'raha. "Oh, gods." She buried her face in her hands. "All that crying I did..."
G'raha reached out to cup her cheek, tapping her hands so she would move them for him. "You were beyond overwhelmed."
Though her hand met G'raha's, Asha still bowed her head slightly. "Yes, but, I have so much I need to say and—not all of it is kind."
"You say that," G'raha countered before kissing the top of her head, "but I know you. Whenever you are ready, bare it all to me: everything on your mind. Spare no detail."
"Everything?" That got her to laugh. "I can't even begin to make sense of half of it."
G'raha cracked a smile. "Then let us figure it out together."
Asha fell silent for a beat before lifting her head back up. "If you insist."
G'raha broke away from her, shifting himself back on the bed so Asha could have her space.
By the Twelve, she didn't want to have this conversation. She knew she needed to say these things, and it was fortunate indeed that her tears had prevented her from saying anything she might have regretted come awakening. Upset as she was, it felt far worse to be angry with G'raha in any capacity. Still, something had to change.
"I should start—and please know I say this as gently as I can—by calling you a bloody idiot."
G'raha's mouth fell open, and Asha fought the urge to run off then and there. Not that she could; her body carried a ghost of a monumental weight crushing down into her. When she met him with pure pain and apology in her eyes, G'raha cleared his throat and gestured for her to continue.
"After everything... you had the audacity to ask if you would be a part of my story. A part! As if you were not instrumental in our victory in the First, as if you didn't choose to dedicate yourself to the Scions when you could have chosen to rest, as if we're not partners—" There were the tears again. Desperately she fought them off, though they were far weaker than the last. "I told you in the Dawn's Respite that day that you were my hero, and I meant it. I still do. There may be no tomes about G'raha Tia or the Crystal Exarch, but you are living and breathing those tales, and I have had the honor to be by your side these past several moons."
G'raha's eyes were misting as well, though he was far more composed. He didn't say a word, too drawn into hers.
"Over the last several weeks, time and time again I have been confronted with how much I admire you. How dearly I love you. When the blasphemies reached Radz-at-Han, you were the Exarch again, and I was mesmerized. In Garlemald, you knew immediately that Zenos wasn't me. Even as you were sacrificing yourself to an unknown fate, you did so with a smile on your face.
"You speak of my kindness and my bravery, but what of yours?"
Throw wide the gates, that the tears may pass. G’raha, for the first time since the night before, faced away from her.
"You have always been a hero, and not just a part of someone else's story, but the protagonist of your own. Your efforts in saving the First—saving the Source—could comprise epic upon epic." Asha reached out for his hand. Slowly, he offered it, while the other rubbed at his tears. Gentler, Asha continued. "My greatest wish is that you could see yourself the way I see you. You are the most amazing man I know. You don't need stories written about you to solidify your heroism. You helped me learn how to love myself, and I want to do the same for you. I want to continue to stand at your side."
“I would ask her about her next adventure. And if she should wish me to be a part of it, oh…how happy it would make me. Together, we would travel the lands and cross the seas and take to the skies upon the eternal wind… My heart swells simply to imagine it.”
“You have always been so enamored by the tales of others, and there's not a thing wrong with that—except for when they make you discount yourself."
Betraying her words, she smiled faintly at the memory of a much younger G'raha Tia, who, upon their first meeting, challenged her as a disembodied voice in a rather embarrassing attempt at being threatening. Childish and a tad foolhardy, but he was a good man at heart. Their time in Silvertear meant far more to her now than it had in the moment. Her heart had yet to even warm to the Scions; there had been no place for G'raha, not yet, not even as a friend.
Her smile faded the more she recalled. "I remember, back when we were investigating the Crystal Tower together, you made several small comments about how you couldn’t hold a candle to me. Even on the First, you were the same, claiming that our efforts were a tale that belonged more to me than to you. Those little things add up.”
G'raha nodded solemnly, and closed his eyes in thought. The sudden silence was daunting, though Asha said nothing, waiting. When he was ready, G'raha spoke.
“I have had many, many years to ponder myself and my worth, most of which were spent alone. Even surrounded by the people of the Crystarium, as you saw, not even Lyna knew who I was under my cowl. Through it all, you were my light, Asha. I was just a passing figure in your tale, yet you treated me as an equal. Your determination allowed me to stand behind the doors to the Tower as they closed, to journey to another world in hopes of creating a better future. I held those memories, those feelings, close to my breast. I lived solely to fulfill my role as the one who would deliver you unto the First for a century. In a way, I lived for you. Pray, forgive me my…idol worship.”
That much had been obvious, though there was a poignancy in hearing him finally voice these feelings, make them tangible. It was yet another reminder of his pure strength, to endure a century of loneliness for the greater good. To shove aside his own desires not only once, but twice.
“I cannot deny the truth of your words," he continued, "that I have held myself to impossible standards. However, I had resigned myself to my fate. I would play my part, and exit your story as a villain. As a dead man. I never considered that I might live, that I might once again know the joys of being young again. That I would find a new purpose, for myself and not anyone else. I have never known more happiness, even in the midst of the Final Days. It is simply an adjustment, after living as the Exarch for so long.” Finally, his Allagan eyes met hers. “It is only natural to want to cling to that which saved you, is it not?”
Asha bowed her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t…”
“You didn’t know. You‘re not a mind reader, love, how could you?" What was perhaps most impossible, more so than his standards, was that smile of his, always so compassionate and bright. “Mayhap I have spent far too many of my days with my head buried in tomes. They have always fascinated me. Always. Though I find I rather enjoy living out adventures for myself.”
“When I’ve recovered," Asha said, "we are going to have the grandest adventure of them all. I hope you’re ready.”
Worry wandered across G’raha’s lips. “You will be taking this recovery seriously, yes? Not only did you give your all these past few weeks, but you haven’t a chance to rest since we returned from the First. Even then your respites were short lived. When was the last time you got a break from being the Warrior of Light?” As Asha thought, G’raha cautiously added, “Have you ever?”
The time it took her to reply should have been answer enough. "Not since the end of the Dragonsong War.”
G’raha’s ears perked up, and Asha caught the faintest glimpse of his tail bushing. “That long?! No wonder Alisaie did everything but bite your head off!"
Asha raised her brows playfully. "Need I remind you of your fervent efforts to find a way to return everyone to the Source? Of the literal blood, sweat, and tears you put into trying to fashion the spirit vessels, Exarch?"
Picking at his bracers, G’raha replied, "We find our shortcomings mirrored in others, and inspire change in them, only to be unable to take our own words to heart. This is the simplest of truths to understand, yet the most difficult to accept."
"T'was fate that we met, 'else you'd have no one to whip you into shape."
"Likewise."
They laughed, then, perhaps the first genuine laugh either had had in some days. Asha had dreaded speaking her mind, however it was cathartic to speak to him like this, to let her words flow freely and release at least some of the energy she had built up. This was barely scratching the surface. There was far too much on her mind. Zenos. Elpis. The Ancients. The Loporrits. Dynamis. All of the people she had the pleasure of meeting and the places she had grown fond of. All of the beauty within the ugliness of the world. At the very least, this was a start. She had time.
"Would you believe me if I told you I was ready to rest?” Asha asked. “I feel even worse than I did having absorbed all of the Lightwardens. There is no need to lecture me this time, and I realize how hypocritical that must sound."
"I think I can forgive you," G'raha leaned in to kiss her cheek, and Asha blushed as she felt him chuckle against her skin, "if you can forgive me."
Asha held her fist out, and G'raha lightly knocked his against hers. "It's a deal."
Evidently the chaos springing up inside of her mind again played out across her face, for G’raha asked, "You’ve more to say, don't you?"
Asha hung her head. Out of her periphery she caught G'raha encouraging her to continue, and with a sigh, she did. "I couldn't—I couldn't bear to lose you, Raha, and I'm worried that you placed my worth above your own, in that moment."
"If I am provided the choice of protecting you or myself, then it is no choice at all. It will always be you." An image of him jumping in front of her, blue wings extending behind him as he held his shield out, flashed in her mind.
"But what if, Twelve forfend, and protect me should she ever hear this—Y'shtola was wrong? You were granted a second chance, and you gave it up, for me."
(Y'shtola, having tea in her quarters, slowly lowered her cup and looked up for reasons she couldn't understand.)
"Naturally, I had my reservations," G'raha explained. "But Hydaelyn bestowed power unto Azem's crystal. I merely believed in her, in Y'shtola, and in our promises."
"What does it say about me, that I faltered?" That I nearly contradicted everything we stood for? Fought for?
"That you're only one woman. That you, naturally, don't want to lose your loved ones."
She had known that, of course, however anxiety often made one foolish, and not even the Warrior of Light herself was infallible.
"Remember what Thancred said about Fandaniel?” G’raha added. “Not a one of us hasn't experienced pain and suffering; some of us to the point we’ve contemplated burning everything to the ground. We have all, at one point or another, given up, but we have also risen above. Ultimately, that is what matters more.”
He had seemed so young lately, so lively, that the age of the Exarch had faded into the back of his mind. When Asha looked into his eyes then, she saw the century that he had weathered rising to the surface again.
Apprehensive, Asha spoke. "We spent so much time soothing people so that they wouldn't transform, reassuring them that though there is suffering, there is purpose. There is hope. And yet, I don't think I could have gone on much longer without everyone. Without you."
"We're not going anywhere.”
G’raha offered outstretched arms to her, and Asha accepted, melting into his embrace. She rested her head against his chest. In the silence, she took in his heartbeat and her own, and prayed. She was calm, yet her eyes began to water all on their own again. She was able to hide it for a few moments, though once she knew her movements would become obvious, she pried herself away from G’raha.
"I don't know what's gotten into me,” Asha murmured, somewhat defeated.
G’raha patted her head. "There is no shame in crying."
Abruptly, Asha smacked her face with both hands, leaving G’raha to bristle in shock as she said, "There is when I lecture you about these things and then do them myself! I'm supposed to be setting a good example."
Seeing her with her cheeks puffed out indignantly, G’raha could only laugh.
"It's not funny!"
"Then why are you laughing?"
Asha puffed her cheeks back out. In response, G’raha scooted closer and found her lips for the first time in what felt like ages. Asha tensed at first, though soon relaxed, putting an arm around his waist. Being kissed by him was being treated like all that is sacred in the world, soft and delicate, practiced and poised, but he was also home. All of the comforts of the familiar, well-worn and well-loved. Trusted.
When finally they managed to part, Asha quipped, "I'm quite certain it's considered improper to kiss someone who's just been crying."
"My apologies.” G’raha bowed his head facetiously. “You looked so cute I found I couldn't resist the temptation."
"My frustration is cute to you, G'raha Tia?"
"Mayhap."
Asha leaned in and stole a brief kiss, only for G’raha to continue. "Speaking of improper, were you not the one who kissed me the very moment I awoke in the Crystal Tower?"
"Ah." Well, there was no denying that. Right when she had finally gotten over the embarrassment of it all, at that. Asha could protest that he was hardly playing fair, though she had been the one to start this. That being said, she didn’t have to be the one to finish it, shamefully enough. "Ahem. Well, I do believe I should change. And bathe. I'm a walking nightmare. Poor Tataru. Her beautiful handiwork, already ruined." Quickly she rose from the bed, stretching her arms out. G’raha followed her example, carefully eyeing her. She was on her feet only a moment before she stumbled, heading straight for the floor—had G’raha not caught her just in time. She couldn’t even blame this on her gods-forsaken clumsiness; this was pure exhaustion, and there was no denying that. She hoped the Scions were proud.
As G’raha steadied her, Asha murmured, "I'm sorry for calling you an idiot."
"If I can admit something,” G’raha said with a chuckle, “I rather liked seeing that side of you."
"Have mercy, Raha, I can only handle so much shame in one day."
“You have not a thing to be ashamed of.”
With silent agreement on her part, Asha allowed herself to be walked to the bath, and to take in each moment that passed, each gesture that accompanied it. The tenderness of having her bandages removed. The warmth of G’raha’s body shielding hers. The remnants of her battle with Zenos being scrubbed away. G'raha's hands trailing her soft blue skin and her scales, the patterns that would form scars and those that had long since been a part of her.
There was still far too much on her mind, too much to begin to process in a mere day. She had so much she longed to tell G’raha and the others that she feared she’d otherwise burst. In his arms, all of it disappeared, saving itself for another time.
G’raha was here. All of her new family was here. She couldn’t ask for anything more.