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Yasha opens her eyes to another beautiful sunrise.
The rays of light peeking past the curtains of the bedroom blind her a little, but that mild discomfort is offset by the radiant warmth on her face.
Pushing herself into a sitting position on the bed, she takes care not to wake her beautiful wife who is still snoring loudly. She must have been up late, and Yasha can’t blame her for being so active as of late.
Yasha smiles in her half-drowsy state as she puts on some loose-fitting clothes and makes her way downstairs. Someone has to be the one to make breakfast and do the laundry, and given that it had stormed all through the night, the air is just lovely to breathe in.
She steps outside and does the usual morning routine of hanging their clothes out to dry, checking the garden, and once all is said and done she heads to the kitchen.
It’s just been so peaceful lately. No worries about war or persecution. No third parties plotting to assassinate them. And most importantly, she has a family now.
It’s a little odd that none of them are awake yet, but Yasha just shrugs. It is still very early in the day, and she’s confident that once her dishes are prepped and placed on the dining room table, the aroma alone will be the most effective means of starting the day off right for everyone.
As she finishes straining the oranges into fresh juice and pours it into a cup, she takes two plates of spider pancakes and bacon to the table. The house is so very quiet, but again it is peaceful. She hadn’t felt this much at peace since…
Oh yeah, since the day we proposed to each other.
Yasha smiles, her thoughts full of nostalgic bliss. She truly is a blessed woman.
Once she takes a seat, she waits. Diligently. Sooner or later, the rest of the family will notice the smells of breakfast and eagerly come downstairs to partake.
To pass the time, Yasha grabs a familiar book from the nearby shelf. It’s another shoddy smut novel given to her by Jester, gods bless her trickster heart. But even trashy romance stories make for good entertainment.
She’s about halfway through the second chapter of the story when at last she hears footsteps coming from upstairs. Yasha places a bookmark within the pages, the bookmark itself made from tanned leather and embroidered with stitches of a flower and ivy pattern. A housewarming gift from Caleb.
She looks around the room once more, eyeing the mantle and the knickknacks and trinkets that adorn it. Weathered maps framed and hung on the wall that once belonged to Fjord, a cracked teapot from Caduceus, a jar of buttons from Veth, and even the shawl and cloak she once wore during her adventuring days, her old greatsword propped up on hooks dominating the entire thing.
Portraits and such also line the walls of their home. Portraits of her dearest friends and found family. One of her favorites being the island of Rumblecusp. Now that was quite an adventure which, upon reflection, was truly the last time that any of them had a moment to breathe before those horrible, long weeks that followed. It’s an experience that she hoped to never relive again, unsure if her friend was truly against them or not.
And yet… there is something about the house that strikes Yasha as odd. She can’t quite put her finger on it. For all she knows, it’s just her mind playing tricks on her.
The footsteps return. They are now heading down the stairs.
Yasha lowers her gaze as she starts to eat her food. The spider pancakes are perfect, as always, and the bacon is to die for. Surely, her wife will love it like she always…
Always?
That odd feeling again. Yasha shrugs. Maybe she’s not quite fully awake yet even now. After all, yesterday was quite the busy time for everyone.
Everyone? What were we doing?
Yasha frowns. She really must be tired still. Why does it feel so foggy?
“You’re assuming too much, Yasha. You’re probably just antsy from not being on an adventure in so long.”
She tells herself this, and after a moment the anxiety goes away.
The footsteps recede as they are muffled by the carpet beneath.
“Good morning, baby, did you have a nice rest?” Yasha asks her wife.
“Absolutely. I love being able to sleep in, not have a care in the world. But the best part? I get to spend every morning with you. And I never want it to change. Ever.”
Yasha is happy to hear that familiar warmth from such a familiar voice.
Although… it’s a little too familiar.
There’s that weird feeling again.
On top of that, it’s suddenly occurring to Yasha that there is a certain something odd about the house right now.
The bookshelf is a lot less packed, the coat rack has only her Coat of the Crest hanging atop it, and the curtains are green and not blue.
Did they redecorate or something?
No, we didn’t. We haven’t had to redecorate in quite some time.
And what’s more, certain family portraits are conspicuously absent. Where are the others? There should be more than Yasha and her.
Yasha frowns as she looks up at her darling wife. “Baby, is it just me or—”
The rest of her statement dries up as she sees who is there to greet her. Of course, it is her wife, standing there with the brightest smile imaginable.
But…
“What’s wrong, Yasha? Why are you looking at me like you’ve just seen a ghost?”
The irony of her question is not lost on Yasha as she takes another nice, long look at her darling spouse.
That tangled hair, the smile… eyes as brown as the earth itself.
It hits her. It’s the eyes that make Yasha realize what’s wrong, as does the familiar blue stripes across her cheeks.
It couldn’t be. But the evidence was clear as day…
…as was the utter absence of that scar. Oh, there’s definitely a scar there. But it’s not the one Yasha made.
It was the one that she made. Her mother.
Yasha wants to deny it, to write off every single one of these feelings as just her nerves. But there is still so much wrong with all this.
After all…
“You’re supposed to be dead…”
And yet, for reasons she can’t explain, there she is, looking the same as she did on that day.
“I know. But that doesn’t matter, though, does it? Here, I’m alive and we can be happy together.”
Yasha stands up, the chair knocked over as she rises to her feet and backs into the wall. “Who are you? Where’s Clara? Where’s TJ?”
She looks around the room. She hears no other footsteps from within the house.
“Where’s Beauregard?”
The woman in front of her tilts her head, looking confused. “Beauregard?”
“Yes,” Yasha says adamantly. “My wife.”
She frowns. “But Yasha… I’m your wife. Don’t you remember our vows? ‘I bind my heart, my soul, myself to you’.”
Yasha nods with trepidation. “I haven’t forgotten.”
“Then why…?”
The distance is closed entirely, her face right up against Yasha’s.
“Why have you forsaken me? For someone new?”
Yasha is scared. She must be dreaming, she has to be. There’s simply no fucking way this is real.
“You’re not her.”
She pushes the other woman away, grateful to generate space between them.
But the other looks crestfallen.
“Yasha… my Orphanmaker… there’s no need to be afraid. Let’s just live our lives peacefully forever and ever…”
“No!” Yasha screams. “You’re not Zuala! You’re gone!”
Yasha opens her eyes. Again.
But it is now nighttime. Still in the cottage.
She frantically turns to her side, and there is another sleeping there.
She uses her innate magic to cast a light in the room.
Laying there, sound asleep and seemingly oblivious to her panic, is Beauregard Lionett. Her wife.
She was having a nightmare. A nightmare that seemed peaceful, but she has long since said her goodbyes to her first love.
Across the way, she sees the two other members of her family in the other room. Clara and TJ, the former holding the latter close in her arms.
Thank gods… I thought I had lost everything again. But why did I have that nightmare?
Yasha sighs. She’s not going to get an answer right now. Perhaps in the morning, she’ll check in with the rest over breakfast.
Spider pancakes and bacon, the usual stuff.
You would have loved it here, Zu.
A tear falls down Yasha’s face as she tries to will herself back to sleep.
Thankfully, no further nightmares plague her. Instead, happier memories come to her in her slumber. And thoughts of what could have been.
She’s content with those, as she would never wish to forget Zuala, the first to have captured her heart.