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“If I’d known you looked this bad, I wouldn’t have let you walk all the way back.”
Thancred shrugged mildly at the disappointment in her tone. “I doubt anyone was up for carrying me. And before you suggest Urianger, I’d rather you don’t.”
Mauve shook her head without comment. She could appeal to reason all she wanted, pointing out that they could have stopped for a bit and let him rest up, or criticizing him for not requesting more healing, but what was done was done and she knew Thancred wouldn’t learn from it. Her eyes returned to the shadows of bruises and freshly healed wounds on his bare chest and arms, visible even after Y’shtola’s and Urianger’s generous ministrations, and she couldn’t hide her frown. He was alive and that was what mattered, but—
“If you’re wishing you’d stayed to fight, don’t,” said Thancred gently, reading her thoughts. “We both did what we needed to. Things worked out as they should have.”
Except she could have helped. She knew firsthand how dangerous Ran’jit was. She could have saved Thancred some time and pain; she could have made sure he was there at the end when Minfilia…
But there was nothing clouded or doubtful in his face as he watched her, his smile the easiest and most relaxed that she had seen it since… since she arrived on the First, maybe, despite the dried blood on his face. No, it was more than that: for the first time in a long while, he smiled like he meant it. He believed what he said.
“Besides,” he added, “with some luck, one or two will scar, and you won’t be able to say I didn’t get something out of it.”
Try as she might, Mauve couldn’t keep a crooked half-smile off her face. “Don’t get your hopes up. They look like they’ll heal just fine.”
“I’m mostly hoping for your sake. I recall how much you like them.” He winked at her.
“I also think you’re rather fetching when you’re bloody and exhausted. Should I help you achieve that look more often?”
“Am I supposed to say no to that?”
She rolled her eyes with a quiet huff of laughter, a motion that dragged her gaze over the room again. Thancred hadn’t exaggerated when he said his apartment in the Crystarium didn’t see much use: other than basic furnishings, some spare clothes draped over the armchair, and some miscellaneous tools and supplies scattered across the dining table, the place was empty. She made a mental note to pay a visit to Minfil—to Ryne’s place sometime and make sure the girl didn’t inherit her guardian’s habits.
When her attention drifted back to Thancred, she found him still half-dressed and watching her with a thoughtful look behind that casual smile. She held it for only a moment before returning to the matter at hand and nodding at the bed. “Take a seat. And don’t be modest about where it hurts.” She caught a glimpse of the look that crossed his face at the word modest, but if he was considering making a joke, he refrained.
She pulled up a chair as he sat, and then held her hand over the center of his chest as she focused on the flow of her aether and redirected it into a healing spell. She’d found her sage magicks to be more tiring than usual lately, a little harder to execute; the result of so much compounding physical and mental fatigue, she reasoned. A simple technique like this one was easy enough, however, and she eased a few of them into his scarred skin—the whole reason she had asked to come by, having noticed the winces and the tension in his shoulders that he’d struggled to conceal by the time their group returned to the city.
“Only four moons,” Thancred mused as he watched her. “You’ve arguably made more progress in honing your skill than I have in as many years.”
“I had plenty of opportunities to practice,” she replied grimly. And a desperate need to keep her hands and mind busy in the Scions’ absence. “For better or worse, the war with the Empire provided them.” He glanced at her and she immediately wished she hadn’t broached that mood-killing topic.
“It’s fortunate that trial by fire is your specialty. It’s clear you’re stronger for it.”
Mauve hummed softly, moving her hand to his shoulder next. He still had a knack for knowing what she needed to hear. “I could say the same about you. I’m still not quite used to seeing you lead the charge.”
“Stole your role, did I?”
“You’re welcome to it, as long as you leave some of the fighting for me.”
“I wouldn’t dream of keeping it all to myself. Nor could I manage it, knowing you.”
She looked at him. It certainly seemed like he still knew her, judging by the remarks he’d made up to now; not that she expected friends to simply forget about each other, but all things considered, there was no denying they weren’t as close as they had been before coming to the First. The jokes were fewer, the shared looks scarcer and milder, and while he’d complimented and flirted with her on a few occasions, it all felt surface-level and generic, things he might say to anyone. Perhaps the blame for that was partly her own, having made no attempt on her part to bridge that obvious gap yet, but with everything that Thancred had been dealing with up to now, was she really in the wrong for staying silent?
His smile turned sympathetic. “It’s been some time since I was on the receiving end of one of your brooding silences. It’s quite nostalgic.”
I’m not brooding, she started to say, but she thought better of it when she realized that she sort of was. Maybe. “I was just… thinking I might have to start taking a more active healing role if you keep this up.”
“Oh? Not losing faith in the others, are you?”
“On the contrary, I’d be doing them a favor. Who else can keep up with you in the thick of things?” She moved to his other shoulder. In the corner of her eye, he watched her face openly. It wasn’t the first time she’d caught him staring at her recently, or vice versa, but this time there was no attempt at subtlety, nor did he look away when she glanced at him. “You really should have sat it out at the mine,” she told him more seriously. “You barely had a breather before that.”
“You were there, so I knew it would be fine.”
“Flattery won’t do you any good here.”
“I seem to recall it working in my favor once or twice before.”
Mauve’s hold on her aether slipped, interrupting the spell. It was hard to say whether she was just tired or that blatant reference to their past caught her off guard, but no response came to mind as she withdrew her hand.
Thancred surely noticed, but he only said, “Speaking of breathers, it looks like you could use one yourself. I’m well enough after that treatment, thank you.” At her skeptical expression, he waved dismissively. “Will it put you at ease if I promise not to leave this room until I’ve rested properly?”
Mauve eyed him for a few beats, and then conceded with a nod. “If by properly you mean actually getting a full night’s sleep, then yes. It will.”
Once, she would have expected him to sneak in a suggestion like Of course, you could always stay the night to be certain, if you don’t believe me, but now she wasn’t surprised when he only returned the nod with, “Consider it done, although I’m not the one absorbing Light Wardens left and right. That’s earned you at least two nights’ sleeps, surely.”
“Mm. I’ll get to bed soon,” she assured him vaguely.
“Good. I would hate to tattle on you to Y’shtola.”
That got a breath of a laugh out of her. “That would mean incriminating yourself, too, if she knew I was here.”
He gave a loose shrug and a weary smile. “Bold of you to assume she doesn’t already.”
That was a fair point. That was also perhaps her cue to leave, but considering Thancred had been the one to invite her here when she offered her healing magicks, rather than letting her quickly treat him in some quiet corner of the open Crystarium, she wasn’t sure he intended to turn her away just yet. But when the silence lingered, Mauve felt antsy—it wasn’t the comfortable sort of quiet that used to fall between them, or at least it wasn’t on her end. She felt compelled to break it, but where talking to him had once been the easiest thing in the world, she now struggled to think of what to say without some pressing task before them, when it was simply the two of them, alone, together because they wanted to be.
“But if you’re feeling well enough to lend me your ear for a moment,” said Thancred suddenly, “there are a couple things I’d like to say. Nothing that can’t wait, if you’d prefer,” he added.
Uncertain whether to be curious or concerned, Mauve shook her head. “I’m off my feet, aren’t I? That counts as resting. Go ahead.” The corner of his mouth quirked at that, but something in his smile seemed hesitant. “But if you’re not in a rush, you can clean up first,” she offered. “I’ll wait.” That appeared to remind him of his current state—half-dressed and caked in equal parts blood and dirt—and after a moment he nodded with a look that was almost sheepish. Or perhaps just grateful for the stalling.
“That would be better, yes. Make yourself comfortable, I shan’t be long.” While he disappeared behind the partition that separated the wash area from the rest of the room—another opportunity that he wouldn’t have passed over once upon a time, surely, to invite her to join him—Mauve moved from the chair to sit on the more comfortable corner of the bed, leaning against the headboard and closing her eyes for a brief spell. She must have dozed off, since it felt like only a moment later when she stirred and found Thancred back in his seat on the edge of the mattress, now dressed in more comfortable casualwear and just out of arm’s reach as he watched her with fond amusement.
“This can wait,” he reminded her, but she was already sitting up and rubbing the hint of sleep from her eyes.
“It’s fine. There are… There are some things I want to say, too,” she forced out before she could rethink it. “So… let’s take the chance, while we have it.” Before something else came up, as it always did, and they had to set personal matters aside for the sake of whatever mission or errand demanded their attention at the moment.
Judging by his expression, he agreed. He still looked tired, but less so after having scrubbed off the remains of a long journey and several unforgiving battles. Less a man half-dead and more one just in need of a good night’s rest, if not several. His clean skin looked soft and inviting in the lamplight, his arms and shoulders more defined—bigger—than she remembered, and if not for that awkward uncertainty lingering between them, Mauve would have her hands on him already, if just in a curious, affectionate touch. But they stayed in her lap, and her eyes on his face, as she waited for him to speak with a mild flutter in her stomach.
“I suppose I’ll begin by acknowledging that I haven’t made things easy for you since you arrived. I’ve never been the most forthcoming man alive, as you can attest, but even for me, I’ve left a lot of things unsaid recently.” His smile turned… wistful? as he glanced at her. “Although, I’m surprised you didn’t give me a much needed kick in the right direction before now. You’ve become quite good at that.”
It didn’t sound accusing. Coupled with that look on his face, it struck her as concerned, and she offered a halfhearted smile back. “You’ve had a lot going on without me adding to it. I didn’t think you needed a kick as much as… time to sort things out, I suppose.”
Thancred hummed thoughtfully. “…You’re unbelievably patient sometimes. One might think it’s been five years for you rather than the other way around.”
Her lips parted, only to press together tight again a moment later. She wasn’t sure how to answer that, and for once it wasn’t her discomfort with being open that was to blame—not entirely, anyway. As messy as her emotions toward him had been before he went comatose moons ago, they were completely turned on their heads when she learned how long he had been here, and so they remained even now. Did he still think of her as he had the last time she saw him on the Source? Did he still consider the two of them to be more than just allies, despite the distance between them lately? If not, did he want to be more again? Mauve wanted to ask, but she wasn’t sure how to put it into words. She wasn’t sure she wanted to risk hearing him say no.
“Five years is a long time,” she replied finally, eyes fixed unseeing on a spot in the floor. Too long to act as though it never happened and simply return to what they had been—that was what Thancred thought, wasn’t it? Why else would he have kept her at arm’s length all this time? Even with all his troubles, that wouldn’t normally keep him away from her; on the contrary, their troubles were often what pushed them together, seeking a distraction in one another. Why was this any different, unless he had a reason to keep his distance—either because his interest in her had grown cold, or (and something deep in her chest and throat and behind her eyes hurt at this thought) he had found someone else to fill that void for him? Either was possible, even probable, and entirely understandable considering how long he had been here, and she was convinced he would say as much now.
“It was,” he agreed. “And here we are at the end of it, as uncertain of our words as we’ve ever been.”
Mauve let out a soft, flat laugh. He could say that again. Even when they knew what they wanted to say, it often came out stilted and awkward. But they always got through it, always laughed it off and grew a little closer for it. Now… where would they go from here?
She expected the conversation to stall there, but Thancred surprised her and pushed right on ahead. “But uncertain or no, I will attempt to put this much into words.” The two of them were eye-level when seated like this, and yet Mauve felt… small beneath his gaze, or perhaps just vulnerable. He looked so focused that she half-expected him to see straight through her into her private thoughts, baring all her anxiety and uncertainty and the raw emotion that he still stirred up inside her. “You’re important to me,” he said, that gaze unwavering. “Almost frighteningly so. And in five years there’s never been a day when I thought otherwise.”
Despite her determination to keep her face neutral, Mauve knew her surprise showed. “I’ve had a lot on my mind, aye,” he went on, “but never so much that I couldn’t have taken a moment to tell you that. I should have. And I’m sorry that I didn’t.”
Several responses came to mind—I never doubted that you still cared about me; I could have said something, too—but her voice caught. It was no secret that they cared about each other, of course, but neither of them was the sort to admit something so personal, even if it was glaringly obvious.
“As for why I didn’t… I’ve nothing but poor excuses, I’m afraid.” Thancred rubbed the back of his neck as he winced. “I told myself it was for the best—the fewer people caught up in my personal messes, the better—and some days I believed it. I could settle things later. Always later.” He gave a flat, humorless huff. “You would think I of all people would know better. I’m perfectly aware that nothing is ever guaranteed. The future least of all.”
After the people I’ve lost was the implication there, Mauve imagined. Not to mention how long he had been here, watching a world teeter on the edge of oblivion. And yet being honest with her had been the more daunting prospect in his eyes.
“At any rate,” said Thancred, “perhaps it’s a sentiment too little, too late, but I’d rather say it now than not at all. You deserve that much, at the very least… although what you do with it is up to you.”
Mauve frowned. Hearing that he still cared was all well and good, and appreciated, but the way he shifted the weight of it onto her there at the end… It still left the overhanging question of What now? She was important to him—but so were Y’shtola and Urianger and the rest of the Scions. He regretted not welcoming her with open arms, but what did that mean going forward? His intentions were good, his guilt sincere, but she couldn’t help feeling disappointed, maybe even a little annoyed that he continued to speak in vague circles. No, it wasn’t just him, if she was being entirely fair. She did it, too. At least Thancred had taken some initiative, even if it fell short.
She remembered the sight of him that morning in Amh Araeng, bruised and bloodied and looking so relieved to find her unharmed. She thought of that piercing pain in her chest when she defeated the last Light Warden, that spike of fear and alarm before it faded as quickly as it came. She recalled those four moons of anxiety and concern, of cold disappointment every time Krile told her there was still no change, still no change, the Scions remained still and lifeless and empty. Compared to all that, the question that had been plaguing her since reuniting with him in Lakeland—no, for far longer than that—suddenly seemed so much simpler than what she’d made it out to be.
“What are we, Thancred?”
In the corner of her eye, he looked at her. There was a heavy pause before he answered, “Well, one of us is a fool. And the other is a saint willing to put up with him.”
“I’m serious.”
“As am I. No matter how hard-headed and insufferable I’ve been, you never once walked away. And while it’s flattering to think you considered the sex to be worth the headache, I’m aware that it wasn’t your only reason for putting up with me.” Mauve breathed another soft laugh, although she couldn’t quite look at him with that pointed observation hanging in the air. “Nor was it my only reason for coming back to you as often as I did,” he added, his tone unexpectedly direct, open, almost vulnerably so, and she felt her face and neck growing warm as she continued to avoid his gaze, that flutter in her stomach now a small whirlwind. “I’m not sure it’s as simple as picking up where we left off,” Thancred went on. “But if you’re in a forgiving mood… I would like to try.”
A mess of things flooded through her—relief, anxiety, uncertainty, affection; this was what she wanted, and yet… the more they spoke, the clearer it became that there was no picking up and continuing like they had before. Not entirely, at least.
“…I wasn’t angry at you, you know,” she said. “Just worried. You say you should’ve done more, but I should have, too. I knew how much you were hurting, but…” But she hadn’t wanted to pry—perhaps out of respect for his fierce sense of privacy, perhaps because she wouldn’t have known what to do if he did confide in her about his grief and anger and uncertainty. If Thancred’s excuses were flimsy, hers weren’t much more solid. “We both could have done better. So… I’m sorry, too.”
He made a sympathetic sound as he leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “A bit of a mess, aren’t we?”
“Mm.” Mauve’s breath hitched for a heartbeat, but she, too, chose to be honest. “But I wouldn’t trade it for anything less messy. Then or now.”
They traded unreadable looks. When Thancred didn’t immediately reply, she stared down at her hands and picked distractedly at her fingernails, her mild demeanor belying the anxiety churning in her chest and the words tumbling over themselves on her tongue. She chewed her lip, and then bit down until the sting of pain cut through her nervous thoughts. “I do want to try,” she told him. “But going forward… I want to be more honest.” If he could speak his mind so boldly today, so could she. Starting now, with a slow, deep breath that she held for a couple beats. “I don’t want anyone else,” she confessed. “Only you. It’s only been you for a long time.” With some effort, she forced her eyes away from her balled up fists and back to him. It was hard to tell if the surprise on his face was a good or bad sign. “If you don’t feel the same way, tell me now. Be honest. I don’t… want us to change, necessarily, but I’m not going to—” I can’t— “—pretend I don’t feel differently now. About how we do things. About us.” Her face burned and her gaze dropped to his shoulder. She was still so bad at this. “Because you’re important to me, too,” she said quietly.
More important than she could remember anyone ever being—and the thought that he might not feel quite the same, that he considered her replaceable as needed, was too much to bear. If that was the case, it was better to lose him to that hard truth now than to keep going and have less of him than she wanted.
There was some comfort to be had in Thancred’s gentle smile, but while it was warm, it was still otherwise unreadable. “You want me for yourself, you mean.”
Tentatively, she nodded, suddenly conscious of the way her ears had folded back against her hair. To her understanding, this was a man who’d never had any incentive or interest in limiting his vices, in being exclusive to any one woman for any reason, and she had always been fine with that, as it didn’t interfere with her own shallow interest in him. She had likewise enjoyed the same freedom, in theory, even if she hadn’t really acted on it. The Mauve of two years ago would have laughed at the idea of expecting anything else from him and criticized her present self for thinking otherwise—but here and now, with so much changed and unknown, her heart having ached for him in sympathy and affection more than she ever knew it could ache for another person… It was worth trying for, even if the sting and embarrassment of rejection were the risk. Whatever the two of them were or weren’t, all she knew for certain was that she couldn’t stand the idea of being less to him than he was to her. It might have been selfish, or proud, or even just wishful thinking, but it was how she felt, and this time she wouldn’t bury it.
“If that isn’t what you want, I need to know,” she stressed again. “I’ll understand. I just… don’t want to keep going for the wrong reasons. So…” Her boldness faltered there, and in its place she felt doubt beginning to seep in through the cracks. Was it fair to spring this on him so suddenly? Would it have been better to keep going as they always did, at least until the current crisis smoothed over? Maybe she was asking too much. Maybe she shouldn’t have said anything at all and just worried about this once they were back on the Source, if they made it that far—
A warm touch to her hand made her start. She looked down to find Thancred’s wrapped around it, firm and gentle, his scarred knuckles still a light shade of pink from either the bath or fresh injuries healed over or both. Reflexively, Mauve relaxed at that touch, her fists and shoulders loosening.
“Whatever your reasons were along the way,” he said slowly, “you’ve had me to yourself longer than you know.” His grip tightened fondly, his voice softening. “To the point that I couldn’t be satisfied with anyone else if I tried. And I have tried,” he admitted. “Always telling myself there was no difference. As if seeing you wasn’t the only thing holding me together at times.” He stared down at their joined hands with a wry expression. “But I’ve clearly done a better job of convincing you of my indifference than I have myself.”
It was eerily—or perhaps just embarrassingly—similar to how Mauve’s mind had worked all this time, and she couldn’t resist a self-conscious, relieved laugh that came out thin and shaky. “That makes two of us.” Her free hand settled atop his, steady despite the anxiety still making her stomach twist and her heart pound. “ ‘A bit of a mess,’ ” she echoed, returning his affectionate squeeze. “We’re a disaster, more like.”
He chuckled. “Aye, but you knew what you were getting into. ‘Twould seem I’m solely your disaster now, I’m afraid.”
Another warm flush creeped up her neck and she deflected with a teasing “You’ve really lost your touch.”
“Do I still need it, I wonder, if I’ve already won your favor?”
“If you want to keep my favor, you might.”
With a noise halfway between a grunt and a laugh, Thancred brought her hand to his lips and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. The mild but meaningful gesture must have affected her expression, since he looked over her face before placing another, slower one on the back of her hand proper as he held her gaze. “Which touch are you referring to, I wonder?”
With the space between them, he had to lean forward a little to reach her—and something about watching him do so, looking up at her even more obviously than usual, sent a pleasant chill up her spine much like the kiss had. Mauve was glad when her voice came out cool and steady. “All of them, perhaps. Five years is a long time,” she repeated, tilting her head with a crooked smile.
Another kiss. “Indeed.” His voice rumbled against her skin as it lowered further still, his breath soft and warm. “Unbearably so.”
Whether that was a tease or an invitation, she caved, sliding closer and tilting his chin up to kiss him. It was so warm and familiar that the relief swelling up inside her hurt. And then the distance between them was no more, his side warm against hers and his arm solid and real around her waist, his fingertips grazing the side of her neck as he brushed her hair aside, and she wanted to drown in it all, in him, and forget everything else that didn’t matter right then. The fatigue and tired aches in her body were abruptly forgotten, replaced at first with that intoxicating relief, and then swiftly with a heat and craving she hadn’t felt in a long time. She pressed herself closer, and when his hands on her hips gently guided her to straddle his lap, she did so without hesitation and appealed to her burning need to touch him: her hands brushed up his chest to the bare skin of his throat, thumbing his pulse and massaging the back of his neck, threading through his hair, always pulling him closer still for a deeper kiss. Thancred was likewise indulgent, his eager touch roaming her thighs and sides and briefly cupping one breast before moving around to her back, massaging that place between her shoulder blades that made her hum and press herself down against his thighs a little more firmly—
Thancred was the one to interrupt it, breaking away and sounding as breathless as she did. For all the heat and desire thick between them, he smiled up at her with a look so soft and tender that her thundering pulse skipped a beat. “Make no mistake: I don’t think I’ve ever wanted you as badly as I do right now,” he said quietly, rubbing the small of her back. “But barring the question of whether I could give you all you deserve at the moment, as battered and exhausted as I am… you need to take care of yourself first.” He found her hand on his shoulder and gave it another squeeze. “Starting with proper rest. This fight isn’t over, and I’ll not have you stumbling at the end of it for my sake.”
As much as the fire in her blood wanted to argue otherwise, Mauve knew he spoke true. Her own precarious situation with bearing an unhealthy amount of Light aside, it wouldn’t do to wear each other down even further when tomorrow was yet an unknown. She touched her forehead to his and closed her eyes. “Acting as everyone’s father now, are you?”
“Where necessary, I suppose.”
“You should follow your own advice, you know.“
“I shall. I’ll have that full night’s rest, as promised.” He cupped her face and traced her lips lightly with his thumb. “You’re more than welcome to stay and make certain I do, of course.”
Laughing quietly at his predictability, she nodded. “Mm. I probably should.” Reluctantly, she slipped off of him and away, but only long enough to shrug out of her jacket and step out of her boots. They barely made it into bed and under the covers before she pressed herself against him, hooking an arm and leg over his side and burying her face in his chest almost aggressively, until her aches and concerns and the thoughts of what had passed and what still needed to be done had faded to a distant murmur in the back of her mind. Thancred kissed the top of her head as he continued to touch her in small, comforting gestures, and suddenly she felt more tired than she ever remembered feeling, her limbs heavy and her thoughts scattered. Even then, she tilted her head back and tugged him down towards her, ghosting light kisses down the side of his nose to the corner of his mouth, and then kissing him slowly and lazily and letting her hands wander, humming softly when he did the same.
Between sleepy thoughts, it occurred to her that neither of them had really answered her question—What are we?—and even now, she wasn’t sure she had an answer. They were here. They were together, for all that implied, and committed, for all that was worth. They were unhappy when apart and they were content just like this. They were much the same as they had always been, in a sense, which was what she had wanted.
She didn’t need a name for what they were, and yet… There was still something unsaid, she felt, something that she should have perhaps started that whole conversation with—that she could still say, certainly, to clarify what she thought they were, maybe even wanted them to be. But even now, snug and safe and warm in his arms and under the comfortable weight of so many things that had finally been said and accepted, those last few words lingered heavy in her mouth, and she couldn’t bring herself to voice them. She probably didn’t need to, she reasoned, Thancred likely already knew; and if he didn’t, maybe that was something better said later, once this fight was over, on the chance that they weren’t quite what she hoped, that he wasn’t that committed.
For now, she had him, and this, and she was too relieved and tired to overthink it any further.