Chapter Text
In the humid chest of a summer night, a window laid open, casting a gentle breeze through loose linen curtains, skimming over and through them as they fluttered about, in their spectacular shadow cast by a pale yellow candle light, piercing the thickness of the heavy night. However dense the night carried itself, it did so with the opulence of a chaotic symphony of peeps, croaks, whoo-oos, taps, and skitters, characterizing the Jrusarian night. Many gentle winged beasts, and less gentle winged beasts, fluttered about, invisible, but rustling outside the open window. Laudna had half the mind to close it- she was not awake enough to shoo some poor bat or moth out her bedroom tonight. Instead, breathing in the wet air, she sat, tea in hand, resting against a gorgeous chestnut rocking chair eccentrically carved with laurels. With her unoccupied hand, long bony fingers traced the now well-polished grooves on the wood, below the armrest, a small inscription: For Laudna.
As she does every day, upon following the carving, Laudna let out a long exhale, watching the steam from her tea buffet with her breath. The corners of her mouth curled, ever so slightly, with a memory of an old friend, of many old friends. Of a very different time in her life. As she does every day, Laudna sips her bitter tea, and wishes the thought away. It was time for rest, and her past, though wonderful, felt so impermeable behind her. It was a luxury, in a way, for the past to only be the past, nothing more. It had its domain, its place in her life, but now, it was time to rest.
Laudna left, she reminds herself, because it was time to let go. So much of a life spent fighting to live is simply a life spent fighting. Fighting the world, fighting herself, fighting her friends, fighting her Imogen, fighting gods. Laudna, though not yet old, was tired. Her body- though she did not know it could even age, had begun to weaken, more and more gray hairs- not white hairs, but a cool gray, had adorned her head. It was not time to fight to live, any more. So much time fighting, Laudna never had the chance to enjoy her life. With a bitter sip of tea, Laudna closed her eyes, tilting her head back against the rocking chair.
Years ago, Imogen had said to her that she didn’t know if she existed, outside of the fights she fought. She had made meaning in her life only through this struggle, this constant battle. When she told this to her, inexplicably, Laudna began to cry. Looking back at those tears with some embarrassment, an older Laudna tries to wish them away, as if to say, “She wasn’t ready, there was nothing you could have done.” Though, to say that out loud would sting, in a way difficult to see through. Laudna knew Imogen loved her, but she understood now, though she struggled with it, that the love they had was not enough to give her beloved meaning outside of the battle she fought. When Laudna was ready to retire, though she knew Imogen would miss her dearly and ache in her absence, she could not stop fighting quite yet. Laudna also knew that she could not keep fighting any longer.
Tracing over the letters of the rocking chair once more, Laudna collects herself and finishes her tea with a gulp. It was late, and tomorrow was for the farmer’s market, and book club with the other ladies, and for, in the evening, preparation for a small party, to celebrate a dear friend’s daughter’s graduation. This little community she had crafted, though not exciting, was precious to her. To see this dear little girl grow into a scholar of dunamacy, about to leave the nest for her studies, to see her friends delight over an adventure novel, was though not in itself riveting, deeply perfect. After so much of a life spent, proving her own humanity to herself, there was something so wonderful about living a human retirement.
Of course, Laudna had not abandoned her scary-scary self, but rather, no longer felt so scary herself. When, on occasion, a stranger passed through and looked at her with fear or couldn’t even look at her, a friend was often quick to intervene and pull Laudna back into a familiar circle. Though, at times, Laudna did miss being seen as scary. Here, she was an eclectic aunt, fantastic, but harmless. Somewhere in the depth of her mind, Laudna did truly miss the feeling of truly letting loose, and being seen as both scary and beloved. In this little haven, Laudna felt at times, only beloved, which, by most accounts, was fantastic.
Imogen, Laudna thought, as she drifted off to sleep, candle snuffed and windows closed, would have loved this. She would love having neighbors who loved her, with her strangeness, growing old with bitter tea and farmer’s markets. If only, Laudna found herself wishing, Imogen could settle down. She knew that it wasn’t in the cards, that Imogen longed to move on after a few days in the same inn. Still, it would be lovely.
___
In the morning, Imogen woke, feeling ragged. Her hip ached, and despite herself, she longed to sleep just a little longer. This, sadly, was not an option, so she peeled her blankets from her, slipped into her dress, buckled her arcane tool kit to her waist, and tied her hair up into a bun. In the small, rusty mirror, Imogen winced as she saw a new wrinkle curl with her eyes. She was not old enough to be this tired.
Imogen collects herself, and stretches, before jumping at a knock at the door.
“I’m coming, all right. Have some patience!”
“We’re ready to go, just waiting on you,” a young voice called back.”This beast won’t kill itself, or maybe it will, but we should be there in case-”
“The monster, whatever it is, is not going to slay itself, we’re all ready and waiting, Imogen.” A slightly less juvenile voice called.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Imogen calls back. How she has become the oldest member of a party is beyond her. It felt as if yesterday she was this scrappy. Though now- as she glances in the mirror, she is a full person. She is an adult, still wandering about with children. Chetney must have felt so strange, half the time. Imogen recalls once, he referenced a popular song from two hundred years ago, and sputtered off to the back of the pack as they walked in disappointment when no one had heard of it. He must have longed for some company like himself, someone as old as he is. It makes sense, Imogen imagines, that he, after all these years, just wanted some friends his age.
“Alright, I’m ready,” she says, pushing the door open, backpack in hand. “Heading east, right?”
“No, west- by the water, remember?”
“Yeah, right…” Imogen did not remember. “By Jrusar?”
“Yes, why?” the half elf, a young, wild little thing, asked.
“An old friend, I’ve told you all about Laudna, right? She lives in Jrusar. Well, by Jrusar. On the outskirts, a small village of witches, and other magic users, by trade. Has good food- better than you’d expect.” Imogen sighs, only not realizing how close she is to Laudna. “I’d prefer not to go, if given the chance.”
The young one, the half elf, chips up, “You don’t have the chance, we need potions.”
“No, you need potions. I don’t need potions,” a third voice, cast through some accent, one that changes with a frequency that should be alarming to any traveler, but Imogen knew the fey girl well enough not to care how spacey her backstory is. “I’m not sharing, though.”
Imogen sighs, “I think I’ll stay back, catch up with you all closer to Jrusar.”
“You sure?” The older tiefling asks. “If you really want to avoid Laudna, you can just come with us, but stay outside the town gates.”
“It’s not that I’m avoiding her, I just don’t know. It’s been a long time, and we didn’t end on the best of terms…”
“Well now you have to go,” the half elf chimes in. Imogen scoffs. The kid doesn’t know anything about relationships, yet. Chetney must have felt the same, she remembers. He must have had so little patience for the drama in those early days. The longing, the spats.
Not wanting to argue, Imogen sighs, and admits defeat. She straightens her back, and slings her bag over her shoulder to grab a sending stone. She touches the stone, and exhales heavily, groaning to the group, “Do I have to?”
The tiefling starts, “No, but I do remember you told me about Laudna. I think you should, I’m sure she misses you.” She misses you, Imogen thinks to herself. She misses Laudna too, but it stings more to imagine Laudna missing her.
“Fine,” she says, “but I’m breaking off from the group when we get there.”
“Are you embarrassed of usss?” The half elf, irritatingly whines, and in that moment, Imogen is.
“No, of course not, I just don’t want, um, I don’t know?” I don’t want her to see me like this, and I don’t want you all to see me with her, Imogen thinks. I just want to see Laudna, she thinks, surprising herself. But it’s true, that is all she wants. Imogen just wants to see her Laudna again, even if it’s just to make sure Laudna doesn’t miss her too often, and to make sure Laudna’s ok. The tiefling gets the signal, and whispers something to the half-elf, who immediately lets out an audible, and obnoxiously earnest, “oohhhhhhhh,” which shouldn’t irritate Imogen, but it does, despite herself.
“Let’s get moving already,” the fey girl insists, and they do, tipping some gold over to the tavern keeper for his patience, stumbling out the door into the bright, piercing sunlight.
Imogen holds the sending stone, and whispers to it, “Hey Laud, I’m going to be in town tomorrow morning, probably for a few days. Grab a meal?” She waits there, hovering by the rock, hoping for a response more than she realized. With the laughter of her party she remembers that Laudna isn’t at her beck and call, and won’t respond right away, that they’ve grown apart and Laudna might not even have her sending stone close by. Brushing herself away, she places the stone in her pocket, moving on with her day.
____
Laudna does have the stone with her. Of course she does, even now, despite the fact Imogen barely writes, she keeps the stone with her, almost at all times. Today, she has some guests over, a gaggle of curious schoolchildren, who, over the summer, stop by to hear her stories. The parents sometimes join, crowding into Laudna’s small kitchen, gossiping and pecking from a charcuterie board Laudna set out with a great deal of pride. The kids couldn’t care less for charcuterie, though, they want to hear about the Hells.
Laudna loves telling them stories of the Hells. She is the most traveled in the town, despite mostly being made out of adventurers who wanted to settle down, and her stories often were the grandest. These kids wanted stories of grandeur, and Laudna, among many things, is a fantastic storyteller. She has sewn together, or cobbled up, several puppets of the Hells, and some of the beasts they faced. Pate, in all his splendor, is usually the beast. Today, the kids want to hear about FCG.
All these years later, it still hurts a bit to talk about the robot. But the kids love it, and a blacksmith-wizard friend has made her a little aormaton-like statue that isn’t quite right, but is still perfect. Using minor illusions, Laudna makes him talk, and it feels a bit grotesque, but it is, no doubt, exactly how the robot would have wanted to be: beloved, bringing joy.
The kids loved FCG, they all brought him coins for Laudna to animate him eating, and at the end of the day, Laudna always gave the coins back to the children’s parents. The phrase, “Have a smiley day,” has caught on a little in town, and it still hurts just a little to hear, but also fills Laudna with a heartfelt joy in the memory.
As Laudna describes the first time she ever saw his eyes go red, the kids gasp. When she tells them how he came back, every single time, they breathe a sigh of relief. She tells them about Dancer, sans the swearing. Mid sentence, Laudna is interrupted by a little half-orc kid pointing at the pack that hung on the side of her hip, with a faint blue glow.
“Miss Laudna, what’s that glowing?” the kid asked, still a bit awkward, with gappy teeth.
“Oh- it’s a sending stone,” Laudna replied. “They come in pairs. Once a day, you can send a message to the person with the other stone. It glows when it receives a message.” a chorus of “ ooooohs” erupted from the kids.
A little tiefling, pushing the half-orc out of the way, asked, “Tell us who has the other one! Tell us!” The tiefling girl’s mother, from the other room, called out, “Saareni, that wasn’t very polite!”
Laudna laughed and replied, “Saareni, pushing isn’t very nice. And can you ask that question in a kinder way?” The little girl embarrassed, sat back down, and looked up at Laudna with these big wide eyes, “Miss Laudna would you please tell us about who has the other sendy stone thingy?”
“Very nice, Thank you. Do you remember how I told you about Imogen? The moon witch, with purple hair?” Laudna reached for her Imogen puppet. “This one?”
Saareni asked, “Miss Laudna, can we meet her?”
Mulling over the question, Laudna says, “She lives very far away. I’m sure she would love to meet you all someday. She travels a lot, she still adventures! Like I used to. Maybe if you’re good, she’ll stop by sometime.” After the words left her mouth, Laudna felt herself recoil a bit. She knew, as sad as it was, that no matter how good these kids were, Imogen was a creature of her own. That was part of what was so wonderful about her.
The rest of the afternoon swept by in a blur of children and charcuterie and puppetry. In a series of stories and chattering parents, the children got tired, and the food got eaten. The day spilled itself to a close, and each mom and dad led their child home at the end of the day, the ringing of silverware and giggles eventually, finally subsiding. Finally, Laudna glanced once more at the glowing pouch by her hip. She picked up the stone, sat in the rocking chair Chetney made her, and sent out a deep breath as she let the message play. Hey Laud, I’m going to be in town tomorrow morning, probably for a few days. Grab a meal? It was the most beautiful sound Laudna ever heard. She curled up around the stone, hoping for a bit more, to hear Imogen’s voice again. It did not sound, but Laudna finally registered the words. Imogen, tomorrow morning, meal. Heart pounding in chest, Laudna found herself too amazed to respond. Imogen, tomorrow. Imogen.
The ringing in Laudna’s ears from her guests, finally leaving, Laudna sank low into the chair, laughing. Imogen, Imogen, Imogen. It felt like eternity, but finally her girl would be home. Laudna racked her mind for a reply, finally settled on, “Lovely! I will arrange for lunch at the tavern. Can’t wait!”
Though, in reality, Laudna could wait. She had been waiting for years, and would have kept waiting so very long.
____
Imogen was getting too old to travel like she did in her youth. She no longer needed six hours of sleep to feel awake, not could she live on tea, ales, and jerky. Instead, as the sun glared down on her makeshift cot, with no protection from the elements, coated in morning dew and with a terrible ache in her hip, Imogen needed so much more. She groaned, feeling her own weight beneath her. Today, she was awake before the rest of her group. She took the moment to stretch a bit more, walk down to the water of a nearby river, and wade into the cool water just a little before the day heated up. Up to her knees in the water, Imogen surveyed her surroundings, this quiet countryside, the arching trees, the boulders dotting the water. Climbing out of the water, atop a smaller one of the rocks, Imogen reached down into her pocket to find her sending stone.
Laudna’s voice sounded older. Not in any notable way, like a change in accent, or a scratchy throat, but rather, she sounded like an adult. The last time they spoke, face to face, was years ago. The last time they messaged was nearly seven months, not that Imogen had been counting. Imogen tries to recall the last time she heard Laudna’s voice, if it always was like this, but she can only hear a tired, sore and angry Laudna, a bit more than thirteen years ago, summoning the self-respect to leave. “Imogen,” she said, voice heavy with exhaustion. “I need a home.” Her voice cracked with that line, as if to finally admit something terrible. “If you can come with me, fine. If you can’t, I’m sorry.” Imogen sits there for a bit, remembering, with a lump in her throat. “I love you, I really do, I just can’t keep doing this-” Imogen recalls, she cut her off there. “I’m not home enough for you?” She cringes at the memory, the emotionality seeping in. She regrets those words, if not because Laudna deserves a home, but because she knew that she would always be Laudna’s girl, Imogen knew she would always be Laudna’s everything. If she needed a home, Imogen should have given it to her. Fuck it, kids and a picked fence, weekend charity bingo, Imogen should have given it all to her.
But that’s neither here nor there. Laudna is there, she is here. Imogen will be there by mid-day. Legs finally dry, Imogen tumbles from the rock. She’s getting too old for this shit. Before rejoining with the group, Imogen sends back to Laudna, “Sounds good. See you soon!” Imogen has made many mistakes in her life, but she prides herself on never making the same mistake twice. Laudna, her Laudna, was only a few hours away. Leaving a message for her party, still not woken up, Imogen begins the path to Laudna’s village. Almost immediately, the stone at her hip glows a bright blue again, and as she holds it, emitting the message, Miss you lots, looking forward to seeing you. I’ll be waiting at the tavern . The sound of the voice was so, preciously, distinctly, Laudna’s. She would be there soon.
As the walk wore on, Imogen neared the outstretches of town. It was surprisingly residential, with far more children than there were at her last visit, four or so years ago. Imogen smiled at seeing the kids, imagining Laudna with them. A few stared as she past, which Imogen had grown accustomed to over the years, but struck Imogen as a bit odd, knowing the town was primarily settled with retired adventurers. Surely, they see stranger things daily, she thought. The morning had brought with it, even on the outskirts of the village, vendors, selling breads, little metal knick-knacks, potions, second-hand gear, second-hand spell books. As the morning had grown, more and more children peppered the streets, a few stopping to stare at Imogen as she passed. Odd, Imogen thought to herself.
In a moment of curiosity, she allowed herself to drift into the minds of some of these awestruck children, and upon entering, was immediately met with the image of Laudna. Still he Laudna, but more gray, with crows-feet when she smiled, and with each of these children, was the awe they felt for her. Imogen’s mind, outstretched in this state, picked up on a faint but familiar sound, not coming from these children, but someone else. A cadence, so perfectly and miraculously Laudna’s that Imogen nearly burst out laughing. Quiet, Imogen felt the noise increasing with every step she took, the symphony of Laudna’s thoughts, growing ever nearer. Not listening to the thoughts even, just glazing over them, Imogen recognized their owner.
Following the song of laudna’s thoughts, she twisted down streets, and finally, to the front of a rather classic looking tavern. Gently opening the door, Imogen was nearly blown away by the strength of Laudna’s thoughts. Collecting herself, she looked around the room to see a pair of black eyes matching hers in a stare, standing straight at her, the source of all this song. Those eyes, looking back at her, make this whole town suddenly make sense, this is Laudna’s place, she belongs her. The very walls of the tavern curl in to house her, the cheers of the children are her garden, the wall of cool air that hits Imogen, stepping out of the hot sun, is Laudna’s coolness. This town is her, in a very real sense- it breathes with her, her heart beats through it, her smile lights it.
In a moment, Laudna was across the room, the next, she was scooping her up with strong, nimble arms. Imogen, laughing engulfed by Laudna, whispered, “It’s so good to see you.”
“You too-- Oh! You have wrinkles now!” Laudna practically exclaimed, finally pressing away from Imogen, setting her back down. She looks so loved, Imogen thinks. She looks so worn down and loved.
Imogen, a real-life blush creeping over her cheeks, responded, “Yeah, I guess we do,” inspecting Laudna’s face, the corner of her eye, with her big, goofy grin, folding at the corners. “I like yours.”
“How wonderful! we match!” Laudna laughed brightly, pointing to her own crow’s feet. See? When I laugh they show up!”
“It’s so good to see you,” Imogen says, grinning with a blush she forgot she had. Her stomach, upside-down, feeling like a little kid.
Laudna grins and replies, “You already said that,” to which Imogen retorts, “It’s just so true I had to say it twice.”
Laudna says, “You have no idea how good it is to see you.”
Imogen replies, “I think I do,” and Laudna just laughs. No, not laughs, she bellows. She roils this feeling, this pure, unbridled joy, out of her stomach, deeply, like she’s always done, and lets out such a laugh that the entire world must have shook, Imogen along with it. For the first time in a long time, Imogen catches herself thinking the words, I love you . Instead, she laughs with Laudna, which is good enough for now.
The two of them, their figures, placed in front of the tavern, block the entrance, but who cares, Imogen is so, so, happy. Laudna, her Laudna, is in her arms, laughing, sounding like heaven. Imogen melts.
_____
Laudna forgets herself, here with Imogen. She holds onto Imogen’s arm as if it is a crutch, grabbing tightly, pulling her through her town. It is a compromise Laudna takes, as in honesty, she would much rather sit and stare at Imogen’s gorgeous wrinkles all day and play with her gray hairs, and kiss the freckles that have dotted her face. However, Laudna cannot lead Imogen through the town while only looking at her, she was far too clumsy, and would be bound to fall. So instead, Laudna held firmly onto Imogen’s arm, walking her through the town, introducing her to friends, showing her shops, talking to her. She lets herself be a bit more creepy. Laudna lets her mouth smile a bit wider than it should, feels her limbs stretch out, her body contort ever so slightly, with Imogen beside her.
No one stares at Laudna, no one ever stares at her here, instead, she does notice the eyes of some neighbors raking over Imogen, who lacks the same ease. While this town is more than accustomed to Laudna’s scariness, they have grown to a point of not caring. To feel eyes glancing over Imogen felt sad, and familiar. A past pain calloused over, one that Imogen still fights with. Still fighting, always fighting, that’s Imogen. Laudna felt herself frown, though wished it away. Imogen still caught it, looking up at her with concern, “What’s wrong, Laud?”
“It’s nothing,” Laudna replied, despite knowing Imogen wouldn’t believe her words for a second.
Sure enough, Imogen replied, “It’s not, but you don’t need to tell me.”
“Thank you, darling.” Darling- Laudna had not called Imogen Darling in so long the word, leaving her lips, immediately made her feel better, especially with the flush of Imogen’s ears. After all this time, she was so much fun to tease. Laudna know Imogen was feeling fragile- it was in her eyes. But nonetheless, there was something so tempting about playing with her, seeing what else could be pulled out of that pretty face. Laudna grinned, giddy with Imogen’s blush.
“Let’s go to my house- I’ll make tea, you can rest. I’m sure you’re very tired on the road.”
“Yeah, that sounds nice. Sorry, I’m just out of it.” Imogen had this little subconscious pout Laudna wanted to kiss off her lips. “Tea sounds nice.” Laudna let her grip on Imogen’s arm loosen, to snake down to her hand, pulling it up to her lips to kiss it. It elicited a wonderful little grin from Imogen, blush spreading further, and Laudna felt like she had won the world.
“Alright then, my house is close. It’s a bit small, but- well, you’ve seen it before. It does what it needs to.”
“That sounds just fine with me,” Imogen breathes.
“It’s just down the street to the left- the one with the circular windows.”
The cobblestone the walked over, well polished for a small town, curving up to Laudna’s house. A small porch greeted them, alongside a gentle meow from a very sweet little tabby, and Pate, careening over for a greeting. Imogen laughs again, and the house feels full, with just them inside.
Imogen closes the door behind her, and Laudna finally sees her in full. She is tired. She needs to sleep.
“Would you like to take a nap?” Laudna knows the answer. “My bedroom is upstairs, the mattress is nice. I can fluff the pillows for you!”
“Yes, that would be wonderful, thank you Laud. My hips have seen better days, I’d really like a nap, I think.” Imogen’s eyes look heavy.
Laudna grabs Imogen’s arm once more and leads her up the rickety stairs to her bed. Laudna smiles at her and says, “I’ll go put some tea on, I’ll be reading downstairs if you need anything.” Imogen thinks, in response, Thank you, really . Laudna didn’t realize how much she missed that feeling, the tickle in her head of her better half. She smiles, and thinks back, Anything for you . Imogen smiles, and starts the length process of removing all the clasps and buckles she wears. Laudna glides back down the stairs, and heats up a kettle. She pulls out some tea, her and Imogen’s favorite kind, and sets out two neat mugs. She finds some biscuits from the pantry, and fills a little plate with them. Taking a little bowl from the cupboard, Laudna then opens up the side door of the kitchen to reveal a small vegetable garden, freshly laden with all kinds of snap peas and cherry tomatoes. Filling the bowl with them, then washing them with a quick prestidigitation, Laudna returns inside to set up the small kitchen table. Setting out two placemats, two napkins, two cups, two little plates to eat from, it felt complete.
The kettle, now boiling, made its presence known, and the tea was swiftly poured, filling the house with a lovely herbal scent. As gentle snores were creeping out from the bedroom upstairs, Laudna found that she had prepared this all far too early, and that Imogen would not wake up for at least another hour. So, unpacking some groceries from the farmer’s market the day before, Laudna began to cook.
___
Imogen awoke to the smell of spices, and to the fading afternoon sun. She tumbled out of Laudna’s bed, not feeling sore for the first time in what felt like years, as the smell got thicker and thicker. Upon dressing, descending the staircase, Imogen found Laudna, asleep on the rocking chair Chetney made her, next to a feast on a tiny cherry wood table in the kitchen. Imogen was nearly overwhelmed by the warmth of the whole scene, the matching cutlery, the placemats, Laudna’s house, it felt so special. She had visited before, yes, but she hadn’t seen it like this. She may have seen it in the past, but didn’t understand the beauty of it. This little eclectic house, decorated with art, some handmade, some made by children, some gifts, little lanterns hanging from the ceiling, a wall of books, well worn and colorful, a kitchen, adorned with countless magical tools. Some, Imogen thought, must have been made by Laudna. No one else could have designed them.
Imogen sat, as quietly as she could, down on the chair across from Laudna. She sat for a moment, inspecting Laudna’s face, her hair, her hands, curled up in her sleep. Imogen thinks again, despite herself, I love you , and despite herself, means it. She feels, despite herself, home. She knows this is not her place, but she wishes, for a brief moment, that it was. That this was who she could come home to, every day, caring, compassionate, scary Laudna, who would never be anything but herself.
Sinking into the chair a bit further, Laudna begins to come to. Her eyes tense, in her dream, she stretches a bit, unconsciously, and finally her eyes flicker open, looking right back into Imogen’s.
“Mornin, Laudna,” Imogen smiles.
“Oh no, I didn’t sleep all night, did I?” Laudna groans.
“No, no. I’m just teasin’. Is this feast for me?”
“Who else?” Laudna laughs, quietly. Imogen worries for a quick moment that there could be someone else. Though Laudna deserves this love, she should have it, it hurts somehow for Imogen to imagine Laudna doing all this for someone else. Her worries are subsided when she looks back at Laudna, and sees how she looks at her, as if she is something to be devoured. Imogen wishes she could freeze the moment right there, and be looked at with those eyes forever. Maybe she could, if she learned more Dunamacy.
Somehow, though, it’s sad, seeing Laudna like this, because it hits, Imogen feels, for maybe the first time, how much Laudna loves her. What hurts is that, after all this time, that love hasn’t been answered. Imogen has been selfish, wanting this love from such a special soul, but not giving back enough. You deserve so much better , Imogen feels her heart sink. She doesn’t send the thought, but she feels it. Laudna deserves better than her. She deserves someone to share a bed with, to come home to, to cook for her, and make her feel special. She deserves someone who will be there with her, no matter what, through thick and thin, not because circumstances called for it, but because loving Laudna is the greatest prize Imogen has ever held. I am going to be better , Imogen promises herself. I am going to be better for her .
The feeling drags on through the meal, this fantastic and luxurious dinner for someone who spends her life on the road. Home cooking, the very best thing. Her heart falling out of her chest, Imogen savors each bite, wishing that she had done this for Laudna. This discomfort must have been noticed by now, Imogen is sure, but Laudna is too kind to ask. As they finished the meal, with the tea reheated, the two sat outside on the porch. Laudna looked so, so beautiful, Imogen thought.
They sat outside, chatting, as they always had, trading stories and updates from their friends, Laudna says last month, Orym dropped by with his husband, and Imogen tells her about running into Fearne and Ashton at a little Inn in Hellcatch Valley, of all places, just as the couple were being driven out of town by some pissed off warlord. They were fine, of course, just causing trouble, Imogen explains. Laudna shows Imogen a letter Dorian sent her, from god-knows-where. Imogen imagines Laudna, here, by herself, worrying about her, when she hears how Laudna worries about Dorian. Imogen rests her head against Laudna’s shoulder, in sympathy, but only feels the pit in her chest grow deeper as she does. She feels selfish, undeniably selfish. Maybe she is loving all this from Laudna, but giving so little herself in return.
After a moment of silence, Imogen decides it’s best to leave, head back to the tavern, meet up with her party. It would be better to leave Laudna here, so she could find someone better, someone who can stay, but before she gets a word out, Imogen’s hip spasms, leaving her wincing.
“Imogen, are you ok? Can I get you anything?”
“No, I’m fine. Just my hip. Hurts like a bitch.” That wasn’t a lie, but that was only half the reason for the wince.
“You shouldn’t walk like this, sleep here tonight. I’ll prepare the bed.”
“No, no it’s okay,” Imogen tries to protest, recognizing just how much she’s asked from Laudna.
“No, no, it’s not. Come in, can you walk?” Laudna’s voice, filled with genuine concern, hurt Imogen to hear. She tried to stand, but no, her hip wasn’t going to let her.
“Alright, I’ll stay. I can sleep on the couch, don’t give up your bed.” Imogen replied, weekly. She knew the request would fall on deaf ears.
“Nonsense, you’ll sleep on the bed, I’ll sleep on the couch. You’re hurt.”
Imogen felt herself, welling up with tears, this didn’t feel okay. How much Laudna did for her. “I’m not kicking you off your bed, Laud.”
“Then we’ll share it,” Laudna said, with resolve.
“Fine,” Imogen heard herself reply, but did not feel fine at the idea of sharing a bed with Laudna. Her face heated, and her stomach curled, and she did not feel fine at all. Laudna stands to reach her arm over, and Imogen takes it, hoisting herself up. Laudna helps her up the stairs, cool body pressed against hers. Once they reach the bed, Laudna helps Imogen over, until she protests, and limps over to the bed herself. This moment, so familiar, feels to Imogen, so fraught with emotion. She could not believe that she was curling into bed with the best thing to ever happen to her, and from that disbelief came an undeniable sadness. In a few days, Imogen would leave with her party, leaving perfect Laudna here, alone, with an empty bed.
Lying by Laudna’s side reminded Imogen of a moment from their youth, drunk on love and liquor, sloppily making out in some inn on the road. Limbs curling on limbs, smiles capturing smiles, they were so young, once. Imogen hadn’t quite realized how much older she was, now. She has felt adrift, like a buoy in the ocean, for so long, only now has she noticed the distance to shore. This has gone on too long, she thinks. She has left Laudna here, alone, for too many years. This isn’t fair, not for her love, not for her. Even in bed, her body aches, long months of poor sleep catching up to her. Here, she lay, looking at the most perfect girl in the world, silent.
Imogen decided her first step into fixing everything would be now. She tucked a stray gray hair behind Laudna’s ear, and asked to kiss her. When Laudna nodded, she did, and it felt like home.