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Early dawn is a wonderful time, a beautiful time. Lae’zel slowly wakes up and blinks the world into existence. She’s greeted with soft golden yellow hues of light filtering through the curtains and into the room. The sheets feel lovely beneath her skin and the blankets are a warm hug against the brisk fall air. Normally, she'd already have sprung out of bed and began preparing for the day ahead. However, these are no longer normal circumstances. Shadowheart’s opened her eyes to the beauty of the world, how to indulge in small pleasures like warm beds and gentle mornings. She lives a boring life now. They both do. Mundane is exciting now after living the lives they did.
Lae’zel turns over and is greeted by Shadowheart’s long, thick hair splayed over the pillows and her shoulders. She’s still sleeping. Soon she’ll awaken, but for now Lae’zel enjoys the moments of admiring her love’s wonderful hair. So soft and still smelling of floral oils from last night’s wash. It beckons her to bury her face in it. She wraps her arm around Shadowheart’s waist, gently pulling her closer and nuzzling against her. A small groan comes from Shadowheart as she stirs slightly. Still, she remains asleep. Quite the heavy sleeper she’s become. Lae'zel doesn't mind though. Spooning Shadowheart while she remains blissfully unaware is a lovely thing, something she loves to do. Lae’zel closes her eyes again. The rhythm of her breathing, the warmth of her body, her scent, everything about her brings order to her cluttered mind. She lays there, arm wrapped around her joy. The moment is hers to bask in.
Eventually, Shadowheart does wake up. She rolls over and smiles at the sight of Lae’zel’s drowsy face. It's easy to tell she’s been drifting between being awake and asleep by how slowly she blinks when suddenly Shadowheart is facing her. Dazed and confused, Lae’zel’s face gives it all away. Shadowheart can't help but tease her.
“Someone’s being lazy this morning,” She says. Her voice is still rough with morning grogginess. Lae’zel loves the sound of it.
“Chk. Silence,” Lae'zel mumbles back.
Fondness swells in Shadowheart’s chest. Her love is too at peace to even bite back in the slightest right now. Even her ears remain relaxed instead of perking up in their usual playful aggression. Lae’zel’s surprisingly cute when she's not growling and scowling at everyone around her. She places several gentle kisses Lae’zel’s forehead before she finds a comfortable spot for her head against Lae’zel’s chest.
Lae'zel sleeps completely topless, always has. Shadowheart used to find it strange, if not a little off putting. Nowadays she wouldn't have it any other way. The warmth of Lae’zel’s body, the slight softness of her breasts against her head, it all makes morning bearable when all she wants to do is sleep in and disappear. Plus, neither of them can say no to making a lazy morning fuck that much more effortless. Not this morning though, they aren’t in the mood.
Shadowheart finds the beating of Lae’zel’s heart. It’s slow and steady against her ear. Sometimes she feels it while they cuddle and she feels it beating hard. After all this time together, Shadowheart finds it adorable that Lae’zel still gets nervous over the most innocent of moments. Even great warriors get timid at times.
Lae’zel gently pets Shadowheart’s head as Shadowheart listens to her beating heart. Pleasant tingles run up and down her spine from the gentle claws scratching against her scalp. It feels divine. If neither of them move, they’ll both be falling asleep again. Golden morning hues have turned into clear blues. They both really need to get up. Luckily, Shadowheart knows just the trick. The trick? Lae’zel’s ears.
“Okay, stop being lazy now. We need to get up,” She rolls over to be face-to-face with Lae’zel, and Lae’zel simply ignores her. She opts to make an annoyed sound instead.
“Aww, don’t give me that face. Are you really gonna force me to be mean to you this morning?” Shadowheart teases, “You’re being so pleasant too.”
“Try me, shka’keth,” Lae’zel’s got that little instigating grin on her face that she does when challenging someone. Yet, her morning lethargy makes it more goofy than anything else. Her snaggletooth is showing. How can Shadowheart possibly be upset?
Still, Shadowheart being Shadowheart, she never backs down from a challenge. She straddles Lae'zel’s waist with her thighs. She straddles her tight. Dominance and control belong to her. Immediately, Lae’zel perks up. Her eyes glow with alertness, anticipation as to what might come. Nothing excites her more than Shadowheart putting her in her place. Only Lae’zel can go from being two seconds away from falling asleep to being the horniest she’s ever been in an instant. A special talent of hers, really. Shadowheart almost envies it. She has other things in mind though. Whatever masochistic fantasies Lae’zel has running through her depraved mind right now are definitely not on the menu this morning.
“Remember, you did this to yourself, Lae’zel,” Shadowheart grabs the sides of Lae’zel’s face. Her grip is rough, just the way Lae’zel likes it. She puts on her best apologetic pout, her best face of faux regret. “I didn't want to do this to you, my love, but you’ve forced my hand.” Slowly, she drags her finger tips up toward the back of Lae’zel’s ears. Under her, she feels Lae'zel shudder slightly. Her big, silly Githyanki ears. How surprisingly sensitive they are. She gently caresses the back of Lae’zel’s ears, and Lae’zel responds with a quiet moan, a slight arch of her back. Poor girl thinks she’s getting something good. A grin of childish sadism flashes across Shadowheart’s face. Time for the real punishment. If Lae’zel’s going to be lazy, this will surely get her ass out of bed. Shadowheart tickles her ears without mercy. Lae’zel shrieks and immediately jumps out of bed, halfway across the room, almost knocking over all the furniture in the process. That’s all it took. So simple.
The look in Lae’zel’s eyes scream she’s plotting Shadowheart’s murder tonight. Her ears are twitching something fierce as if they're trying to shake off the tortuous tickle sensation. Both of her hands are tightly pressed against the back of her ears in self-defense. Shadowheart can't help but giggle. The love of her life, a strong, powerful Githyanki warrior. Raised as a weapon of Vlaakith and strong enough to bring the strongest of beasts and men to an early grave. Yet, simply tickling her behind the ears is enough to bring about her defeat.
She walks over to Lae’zel, who's still glaring at her. “Sorry, my love, but we really do need to get out of bed and you are being unusually lazy today. Forgive me?”
Lae’zel’s second weakness is Shadowheart’s large, puppy dog eyes when she begs for forgiveness after causing trouble.
“Come here.”
Shadowheart does as she's instructed and she's immediately pulled into a hug. Lae’zel leans down to kiss her and she happily reciprocates.
“I’ll forgive you if you feed me. I'm hungry and I demand to be fed,” Lae’zel whispers after they pull apart.
“Of course. Anything to earn your forgiveness after the terrible treatment I just gave you. You poor thing, you.”
Lae’zel simply presses her lips against hers again. Shadowheart smiles as she feels Lae’zel’s own smile against her. Like an excited child, Lae'zel grabs her hand and drags her into the kitchen. If there's one thing Lae'zel likes, it's eating. Always hungry she is. The true curse of her people’s lineage, to always be ravaged by insatiable hunger. Establishing dominance and power over Lae’zel may win her loyalty, but feeding her wins her heart.
Eating together is mandatory for them. Neither will eat a meal in solitude. Perhaps a hangover from their days of forced communal eating, but it's a thing they settled into nonetheless. This morning it’s bread, jam, and tea for Shadowheart and dried meat and water for Lae'zel.
“You know, you're allowed to eat things simply because they taste good,” Shadowheart says to Lae'zel. “Don't you get tired of eating the same thing every morning?”
Lae'zel shrugs. “Chk. Food is food. I eat to sustain myself. I don't feel the need to partake in such petty indulgences.”
“Oh? How curious you should say that,” Shadowheart says, her eyes narrowing. “Explain to me where my cake went that I was going to give the neighbors, hmm?”
Lae’zel shrugs, “I was hungry and it was there. Efficient.”
“And the pastry one of the temple chefs made for me?”
“I ate it because I was hungry and it was there.”
Ugh. She's impossible. If nothing else, at least she’s honest. Shadowheart’s deeply ingrained tendency toward lie and deceit have been long broken by Lae’zel’s brutal honesty. There’s many things to be said about her, but a liar will never be one. The fact Lae’zel is eyeing her bread and jam while they have this discussion is not lost on Shadowheart. Old habits die hard. One day she’ll break Lae'zel out of her ‘food as function only’ military indoctrination, but today will not be that day. Maybe one day they’ll both be free of old habits from past lives they no longer wish to remember, of old memories which wake them in a cold sweat at night. Until that day comes, they’ll wipe each other’s tears and soothe old wounds for as long as they need to. They’re together in this, and that’s all that matters.
Shadowheart sighs as she holds out her bread and jam to Lae’zel. “Love, just a bite already and stop giving me that look.”
Lae’zel waits a second before she does, and then Shadowheart immediately snatches it away. “Only one. Make yourself a piece if you want more.”
Much to Shadowheart’s horror, the love of her life responds by simply dunking the remains of her dried meat into the jam jar itself. Lae’zel is fortunate to have the privilege of being the love of Shadowheart’s life after pulling a stunt like that.
“Hey! I worked hard on that jam!” Shadowheart whines. “Get your gross little meat scraps out of it!”
“ Our jam, darling. It's our jam. Tell me, who went out and picked all those berries? Certainly not you. Tas’ki.”
“Well, what else am I supposed to do with you when you’re bored and being obnoxious?” Shadowheart can’t help but reach out for Lae’zel’s hand as she says the next part, “...But you really do pick the best berries. So please, keep being obnoxious so I have a reason to kick you out of the house.” Maybe it’s instinct, maybe all Githyanki have an incredible sense of smell, maybe Lae’zel’s just weird, who knows. Shadowheart certainly doesn’t. Lae’zel just looks proud and full of herself whenever she gets a compliment. Haughty is a good look for her.
Good ol’ quality bickering, their favorite love language. Close behind are insults of affection and gift stealing. As if enough crimes against jam haven’t been committed, Lae’zel’s entire body lights up at the discovery of the dried meat and jam combination. At least she's cute…at least she’s cute. She can make Lae’zel her own little jam jar to taint with her weird eating habits. Yeah. That’ll suffice.
Lae’zel heads back to the bedroom while Shadowheart deals with cleaning – their preferred arrangement. Lae’zel is a subpar dishwasher while being a superb bed maker. One of the greatest joys Shadowheart discovered is flopping onto a freshly made bed made by someone other than yourself. Naturally, she treats herself to that every morning all while ignoring Lae'zel screaming how she’s not done and Shadowheart just ruined all her hard work. Such vital morning rituals must never be broken.
“Tsk’va! Go get dressed! Stop ruining the bed! Now you are being lazy!” Lae’zel loudly grumbles. She had the sheets perfectly smooth and now they have crinkles in them because somebody had to go ruin it. Every. Damn. Morning.
With a little mischievous smile, Shadowheart says, “I demand you undress me while I enjoy the luxury you have provided me.” Truly, the way Lae’zel makes the bed is a luxury. Even the pillows are perfectly fluffed. Bed making skills must be encoded in her very life essence. It’s the only reasonable conclusion Shadowheart can come to.
Lae’zel huffs and rolls her eyes. “Spoiled istik. Come here.” Ever so delicately and lovingly, she removes Shadowheart’s night slip, sliding it up over her head before tossing it to the side. As she does, Lae’zel can’t help but admire Shadowheart’s body. It’s soft, smooth, much unlike her own. Her favorite are those little indented stripes Shadowheart has running along her thighs and stomach. Oh, how she loves to touch them, kiss them, those cute little stripes, much like Shadowheart loves to run her fingers over her spots. Shadowheart’s obsessed with her spots.
“Tsk, tsk, Lae'zel. You call me spoiled and yet you are so eager to give me everything I want with no hesitation.” Shadowheart doesn't need to see to know the tips of Lae’zel’s ears are red. She leans in close to Lae’zel’s face, places a single finger under her chin and tilts her head up, “I have you trained well, don’t I?” All Lae’zel does in response is groan and shove her to the side as she walks away, exasperated.
“K'chakhi! Just get dressed! Enough foolishness!” Is all Shadowheart hears before getting smacked in the face by the bra Lae’zel so aggressively threw at her. She’s sulking across the room after having been called out for her love of pampering Shadowheart. Not long after Lae’zel throws a shirt at her, followed by pants. How nice of Lae’zel to pick out an outfit just for her. Why, if she’s lucky everything will match!
Shadowheart gets dressed and examines the outfit Lae’zel threw at her. It's fine. Definitely not the best, but by far not the worst. It's presentable enough for the homesteading chores she needs to attend to today. The shirt’s roomy and quite breathable, the pants are functional for the tasks ahead. It's not cute, but it’ll get the job done. And no, the outfit does not match.
Lae'zel on the other hand…Shadowheart can’t help but wince at what she’s picked out for herself. The shirt she picked out is far too large for her, the pants are the same pants she does manual household labor in and covered in stains that never properly wash out. Her way of dealing with the too-large shirt situation was throwing on an underbust corset to cinch in the excess fabric, only it's lopsided and poorly tied. Lae’zel has an important task to attend to today, and Shadowheart would be a terrible partner if she let her present herself in such a manner. Her sense of fashion is…well it's not much of a sense at all.
“Hey, Lae’zel, let me help you today.” Shadowheart frowns when Lae’zel’s only response is an annoyed movement of her ears. “No really. I can’t let you out like that. I love you too much for that. Your meeting with the captain of the town guard, it’s today, right? Let me dress you up.”
Lae'zel looks at herself in the mirror, moves around a bit, looks at herself again, and makes a disapproving face before finally saying, “I don't understand how this Faerûn clothing works.” The sound of defeat hangs heavy in her voice. Even her ears drop slightly in defeat.
Shadowheart points to the bed. “Get undressed and sit there.”
As instructed, Lae’zel does. She sits on the bed in her underwear all while eyeing Shadowheart curiously as she rummages around the wardrobe. Clothing is so unnecessarily complicated. Armor and nudity are not. It’s obvious istik do not understand efficiency and its importance. Wasting all this time getting dressed, bah.
“Here, put your arms though,” Shadowheart says when she returns. Lae’zel slips the shirt over her arms and Shadowheart diligently buttons it up for her. She does it every so slowly, carefully, teasingly. Lae’zel’s abs always hypnotize her. The strength of the woman before her is incredible, yet Shadowheart can so easily bring her to her knees, can so easily reduce her to a withering mess begging for more. Such power is intoxicating. Shadowheart finishes by fluffing out the high collar and flattening out some unsightly bunched up areas. The pants are next, the leather ones they both love.
“Stand up,” Shadowheart says. She hikes them up over Lae’zel’s hips and fastens them shut. Form fitting, but with enough room for imagination. She can’t wait to rip them off later, but that’s neither here nor there. Right now she just needs to keep Lae’zel from looking like a complete uncharismatic fool.
“Enjoying yourself?” Lae’zel eventually asks. Shadowheart’s hands linger a little too long in more intimate places, and that doesn't go unnoticed by Lae'zel. The gentle touch of her thighs, a soft graze of the hips, a shy squeeze of her ass. None of it goes unnoticed.
Now it’s Shadowheart’s turn to blush. “Yeah,” she breathes, “You look good. Real good. I’m excited to undress you tonight.”
There’s a slight flutter of Lae’zel’s ears. She leans close to Shadowheart and whispers, “I look forward to that,” into her ear before giving it a playful nip. Oh, how it leaves Shadowheart feeling weak in the knees. Perhaps she’s not as all-powerful as she thought.
A few more finishing touches and then she’s done. Shadowheart rolls up Lae'zel’s sleeves and cuffs them so they won't slide down. Her forearms are lean, almost sinewy, but when she flexes they come alive. Lae’zel deserves to show them off, Shadowheart wants to show them off. She wants everyone to know how strong her dearest Lae’zel is.
“Wait, one final thing.” Shadowheart runs back to the wardrobe and then returns with the small black corset, the one with the beautiful silver detailing. She places it around Lae’zel’s waist and begins lacing it up. Not too tight, just enough to give her a bit more shape. Her shoulders are strong, but often get lost under her clothes due to how tall and lanky she is. Lae’zel’s proposing to help train up a town militia today, and Shadowheart wants to showcase how strong she is.
“Okay, take a deep breath, move around. How do you feel?”
Lae’zel does so, and she just shrugs. “It's fine.”
“Good, now take a look at yourself.” Shadowheart says gesturing toward the mirror.
The person staring back at her in the mirror, Lae’zel almost doesn't recognize. She looks like a stranger, feels like a stranger to herself. The woman looks dignified, like she belongs on Faerûn. The way her long, red hair flows down past her shoulders, how her messy, tangled bangs frame the one side of her face. She moves her face with uncertainty, unsure how she feels. All she knows is she doesn't feel like herself. She’s Githyanki, not some istik. Lae’zel sits back down and looks at Shadowheart. “I don't feel like myself,” she says. The sadness in her voice is heavy.
Shadowheart pulls Lae'zel closer to her. “I know, but you look good. Really good. Appearances matter a lot here, especially when negotiating things.” She doesn't need to say the part they both know – Lae’zel is a Gith unfamiliar with this world and its workings. She will always be treated with mistrust, just as much as she will always treat others with mistrust. While Shadowheart is able to hide her past involvement with Shar and has an uncanny ability to manipulate the flow of conversation, Lae'zel can’t hide herself, nor was she ever taught how to tell even the most basic of lies. Hiding her feelings behind aggression and displays of power is all she knows, neither which are looked fondly upon in Faerûn.
Lae’zel’s quiet, getting pulled in by pensive sadness. Shadowheart brushes a strand of hair out of Lae’zel’s face and gently nudges her attention, “Let’s get your hair up and your face paint on. You’ll feel better.”
“I want to do yours too,” Is all Lae’zel responds with. Bouts of intense melancholy aren't uncommon between the two of them. All they can do is hold each other close until it passes.
“I won't say no to that. You're good at doing hair.” She looks toward Lae’zel and lovingly strokes her inner thigh, “And later, I'll undress you and enjoy you as you are, every little piece of you. All mine to enjoy.”
She buries her face in Shadowheart’s shoulder and nods. The warmth of Shadowheart’s promise comforts Lae’zel. Sex always felt freeing to her, the one area of her life where no matter what, she’s free to be herself. No hiding, no false displays of overconfidence and arrogance. Just her and her lover for the night. Before Shadowheart, she rarely slept with the same person twice. She had an image to keep up, a reputation. The vulnerability of people seeing the real her was too much. Now she revels in it, just as she revels in Shadowheart. Shadowheart holds her with all the tenderness in the world, only letting go when Lae’zel gives her a quick kiss on the cheek before getting up to get the hair supplies.
Gentle isn't a word that can be used to describe Lae'zel. She can be sweet, caring, even kind, but gentle never comes to mind. Yet whenever she does Shadowheart’s hair, it's gentle. Everything from how she brushes it, plays with it between her fingers, ties it up, it's with such delicacy. Somehow, it makes her feel like she's an angel, like she's a Goddess being worshiped by her most devout follower.
Shadowheart’s broken out of her thoughts by sniffing noises. She sighs. Everything comes at a cost. “Are you smelling me again?” She asks.
“Your scent brings me joy.” Not subtle at all, not subtle at all. She can feel Lae’zel’s nose pressed against the nape of her neck – the place she tends to sweat from due to the thickness of her hair. She can feel Lae'zel taking in her smell. All her willpower goes to not expressing how weirded out she is by the whole thing. Then she feels Lae’zel’s tongue against her neck, affectionately lapping up whatever small beads of sweat she discovered. Shadowheart shudders in disgust. Her willpower breaks.
“Lae’zel, please tell me. Is this just how all Githyanki act or are you just weird? And stop licking me! It grosses me out!”
She feels Lae'zel chuckle. “Sorry, dear. Sometimes I forget your kind shows affection differently than my kin do.” Lae’zel goes back to brushing out Shadowheart’s hair and working her way down her ponytail. Much to Shadowheart’s surprise, Lae’zel answers her question with the utmost seriousness. Really though, what was she expecting?
“Most Gith are driven mad by sweat and smell. It's a sign of strength, a sign of devotion. My first lover, I’ll never forget.” Lae'zel pauses for a moment, as if debating whether or not she actually wants to tell the story. “I came back from training, drenched in sweat and blood. There was a girl from a different clutch, unusually gentle compared to most of our kin. Yet that night, she cornered me and held her dagger to my throat. She told me the smell and sight of me drove her mad. Every night it’s all she’d think of, and now she couldn't take it anymore. She was claiming me as hers. That night, she ravaged me.” Lae’zel speaks of the memory with joy, the spark of youthful love. It's rare she speaks of Crèche K’liir anymore, especially this fondly. “She was an amazing lover, one of the few I went to bed with more than once. She became the source of my bruises and I became the source of hers. Senath was her name.” Shadowheart listens as Lae’zel speaks. A twinge of jealousy stirs in her at the way her love speaks of her first, full of admiration and adoration. Strange, Shadowheart never took herself as being the jealous type. She certainly was not expecting the conversation to take the turn it did.
“She’s the one who taught me how to do hair,” Lae’zel continues as she finishes another section of Shadowheart’s ponytail. “Crèche K’liir was strict with how we wore our hair, and I was spared many beatings because of her.” Her voice drops to a whisper at the next part. Shadowheart senses what's coming is painful for Lae’zel by the way she strokes the undone parts of her hair. It's as if she's trying to soothe herself. Her voice has the slightest, barely audible quiver to it. “But Senath…she didn’t survive training. She didn't have it in her to kill. I killed the one who felled her in her honor.”
It's conflicting to feel so deeply jealous of a dead girl she’s never met, one who lost her life far too young. Jealousy isn't something she's ever truly felt, yet now she feels sickeningly jealous of a girl who most likely never made it out of early adolescence.
It's almost as if Lae'zel can smell the jealousy off of her. At this point, she probably can. Lae’zel gives her a nip on the neck, followed by a gentle kiss. “It's why when you come in from tending the land, I want nothing more than to bed you. You come in, smelling of earth and sweat. Your strength, your devotion, it can't be contained. I want everyone to know you're the one I've claimed. I want everyone to know you’ve claimed me, that I am yours and yours alone.”
“Well, I’m glad someone finds me attractive when I'm filthy and covered in dirt, sweat, and gods know what. Maybe next time I’ll refrain from washing up right away, maybe let you have your way with me. But! Only if you behave yourself and stop eating my desserts behind my back. I’m more than happy to share.”
There’s the happy ear flutter Shadowheart likes to see. Lae'zel smiles with her ears just as much as her face, if not more. Should her face remain cold and emotionless, her ears will betray her.
The juxtaposition of the conversation and how gracefully Lae’zel handles her hair reminds Shadowheart why she puts up with Lae’zel’s quirks, the unique things that turn others away. Lae’zel’s passionate in everything she does, and her passion soothes Shadowheart’s budding jealousy. Curiosity grows in its stead. She wonders how many other people Lae’zel’s loved, how many things she’s loved. She wonders if carrying love around as a secret hurts just as much as harboring guilt.
“It is done,” Lae'zel says as she gives Shadowheart’s ponytail one final fluff. “How is it?”
Shadowheart looks at herself in the mirror, how her hair moves gracefully as she walks. Really, she doesn't know how Lae’zel does it. Perfectly sectioned, perfectly tied up. The hair cuffs and bands are tight enough that nothing will slip or loosen throughout the day, yet loose enough that her hair’s still mobile and her scalp doesn't ache from tension. Every time she manages this perfectly.
There’s a long pause before Shadowheart eventually says, “Senath taught you well. I think she’d be proud. You did an amazing job.” She’s not sure how Lae’zel will take it, if that's the right thing to say. Comforting people in their vulnerability is a skill she sorely lacks. Yet when she looks at Lae'zel to gauge her response, every ounce of her being is lit up as if she’s been freed of something heavy from within.
“She was a strict sa’varsh! But a good one.” Lae’zel smiles at the memory of being scolded as she was learning, “I’m glad I do her spirit honor.” She then crawls into Shadowheart’s lap. “My turn now.”
“Yes, yes. Of course. I do need room though. I can't do your hair when you’re smothering me like this.” Shadowheart can't help but drape her arms around Lae’zel’s shoulders and give her a kiss behind her ear. Then she gently shoves her off her lap.
They slip into a brief, comfortable silence as Shadowheart begins to work on Lae’zel’s hair.
Then after some time, she asks, “You nervous?”
“Chk. Why would I be nervous?”
Shadowheart hums in amusement. “Oh I don't know. You're going to propose something important and you’re not exactly the most charismatic person, or the most agreeable person. Judging by how clingy you’ve been the entire morning, I’d say you're nervous.”
Lae’zel scowls, vaguely insulted by the very notion that she'd be nervous. “I am no coward.”
“Well, I remember how nervous you were the first time we hugged. How you stood there not knowing what to do. I felt your hands trembling when you hugged me back. The great Lae’zel of Creche K’liir, trembling before me, a mere istik .” Shadowheart’s got a fist full of Lae’zel’s hair she’s tying up so Lae'zel can't even run away in whatever emotional fit brewing within her. Shadowheart knows better than to say such things when she doesn't have Lae’zel firmly in her grip.
Lae’zel’s ears turn red. She's probably got her eyes narrowed and her face scrunched up too. Her cute little nose is probably crinkled in disgust as well. How shocking she didn’t get called kainyank for that one.
She finishes tying up Lae’zel’s hair. Time for all her tiny braids and her tiny metal beads. Lae’zel has some seriously impressive dexterity to be able to do it as quickly as she does every morning. Perhaps she should introduce Lae’zel to jewelry work. Maybe in another life, a more peaceful one, she’d create beautiful necklaces and bracelets. Shadowheart wonders if in another life she and Senath would've been happy together. Shadowheart wonders if in another life, she herself would be as happy as she is now in spite of everything she's been through, everything they’ve been through. She wonders if Lae’zel is happy too, happy with her and the life they’ve settled into together. What a fleeting thing, happiness. So hard to build, yet so easily gone in an instant. Maybe she will introduce Lae'zel to jewelry making.
“Okay Lae'zel, turn around and face me so I can do your braids.” Lae'zel does, and Shadowheart smiles lovingly at her. This is her favorite part of doing Lae’zel’s hair. All those frustratingly tiny braids, all those damn metal beads, doing them becomes worth it when she has the excuse to stare into Lae’zel’s beautiful eyes, has the excuse to just soak in her lover's presence. Lae'zel enjoys it just the same, Shadowheart can see it in her eyes. She is the salve to Lae’zel’s psychological turmoil, much like she is to her.
Shadowheart can't help but cup the side of Lae’zel’s face and bring her forward for a kiss, slow and sickeningly tender. They pull apart and Shadowheart starts braiding the first of many tiny little braids.
“I was nervous too when I offered my services at the temple.”
Lae’zel looks up at her as if she’s asking where did this come from?
“I was worried I’d be rejected, that somehow they would know about well, you know.” She frowns a bit. Lae'zel gives her a simple nod of encouragement. “...But it was fine. I get along with the people there, I feel at peace, like I belong there.” Shadowheart’s smile is soft. “And you deserve to find somewhere you belong here too.” Lae’zel opens her mouth to speak and Shadowheart immediately cuts her off, “You deserve to belong here, with or without me.”
The slight drop of Lae’zel’s ears bring about a slight twinge of pain in Shadowheart’s heart. Between her otherworldly appearance and her tough exterior, not many would realize just how much fear she holds within herself, how afraid she is of being left alone in this strange world. Sometimes, even Shadowheart forgets.
“I’m not going anywhere though. I promised I'd stay with you, didn't I? On the rooftop of the Elfsong Tavern while watching the sunrise with you. And here I am, staying with you even though you drive me crazy half the time.” Shadowheart tucks a few loose braids behind Lae’zel’s ear, an excuse to touch her face, to remind herself that she’s real. They’re both real.
Lae'zel leans into Shadowheart’s touch. “My joy, you are also my annoyance and my displeasure, but I would move mountains for you if that's what you wish for. You drive me mad in more ways than one. You drive me mad in ways I didn't know possible.”
The feeling is mutual. “Lae’zel, I want you to find your place here, to find friends. I have faith in you. Just remember not to threaten anyone.” Shadowheart says with a teasing wink, despite there being some truth to her statement, “The town guard respects you and what you already do for them. The temple hears all, so therefore I hear all.”
“...Thank you.” She replies. Shadowheart’s words help quiet her doubt.
Shadowheart doesn't mention it to Lae’zel, but everyday she prays Selûne will guide and protect her. Ever since Vlaakith’s betrayal, Lae’zel’s been timid of the Gods. Shadowheart can't blame her – she lost everything she knew after renouncing Vlaakith. Her people, her culture, her identity, all ripped away in an instant. Both of them will build each other up again, build a life on truth and freedom. There’s no more room in their lives for trickery, deceit, lies, or torture. That space’s been taken by lazy mornings, fresh berry jam, and declarations of affection, adoration, and annoyance.
The final braids are finished and Lae’zel officially has no more hair in her face or covering her eyes. All that remains are a bunch of loose little braids that are ready to be tied back, all adorned with delicate metal beads.
“Okay turn around again so I can tie your braids back.” Shadowheart can't resist giving Lae’zel a few final tickles scratches behind her ears as she finishes. Lae’zel laughs, if one could call whatever concerning, dying croaking she makes a laugh. She laughs as if her vocal cords never learned what laughter was. So uniquely her. Shadowheart can’t get enough of it.
While Lae’zel is distracted, Shadowheart gets up to go grab something. She returns with Lae’zel’s tin of face paint, the black one she uses daily. “Close your eyes, stay still.”
The final bits of Lae’zel’s laughter calms down. She closes her eyes and stills her body. She feels Shadowheart’s tender touch. So delicately she smears the paint around her eyes. Neither of them can get enough of merciful touch, touch that comes with no threat, no consequences. Their skin craves it after decades of starvation.
“Now open,” Shadowheart says. Lae'zel doesn't, preferring to enjoy only the sensation of Shadowheart’s thumbs against her cheekbones, of her thumbs gently gliding across her facial spots. It feels nice. She’s never realized how nice it is to have her spots touched, how sensitive those little raised patches of scales can be. Lae’zel purrs from the back of her throat. Shadowheart’s taught her so much about her own body, things she’s never imagined. She was convinced she knew it inside and out, but how wrong she was. Oh, how wrong she was.
When she finally opens her eyes, it's just Shadowheart looking at her with all the love in the world. No one’s ever looked at her that way, ever made her feel safe though gaze alone. No one except Shadowheart.
“I want you to see how handsome you look, how beautiful you are. I want to make everyone see what I see in you.” Shadowheart know’s Lae'zel doesn't care about appearances, but today is one of the rare times she can justify indulging herself in Lae’zel’s grace. She wants everyone to be jealous of what she has, that Lae’zel is hers and she will not be sharing. This beautiful, handsome otherworldly woman is hers and hers alone.
Lae'zel once again looks at herself in the mirror, and this time she feels good about herself. She feels like a warrior prince so commonly written of in the literature of istik. Shadow heart stands next to her, her arm around the small of her waist.
“Shadowheart, you look like a peasant,” Lae’zel says.
Shadowheart’s eye twitches slightly. Why does she always gotta be that way? “Lae’zel, dear, you're the one who picked out my clothes. I only look like a peasant because you don't know what style is.”
“You’ll need to teach me then.”
“Gladly.”
Morning is officially coming to an end, and now their day is ready to start. Shadowheart sees Lae’zel off, wishing her the best of luck on her endeavor. One last final reminder of ‘do not threaten violence. Remember what we practiced.’ One last hug and kiss before Lae'zel walks off, greatsword hoisted over her shoulder and all. Shadowheart can’t help but swoon as she watches Lae’zel walk away, her head held high and proud. She’s got homesteading work to do – her vegetable garden needs to be weeded and her flower garden needs to be watered, but that can wait. For now, she’s enjoying the peace of the life she and Lae'zel created for themselves. Peaceful, mundane, and slow, just like the lazy morning routines they share.
