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“‘You were made for this,’ he whispered, and kissed her, just under her cheekbone. He vanished, and Farideh lost her balance and fell to the ground under the astonished stares of her sister and guardian.” - Erin M. Evans’ Brimstone Angels: Neverwinter
“...Farideh?” Havilar asked hesitantly, breaking the silence as a string of curses erupted from Mehen. He attempted to break his falchion over his knee, to which it bounced off, knocking him in his snout and causing more curses to fly off. Farideh buried her face in her hands, face flush from the heat of embarrassment, his residual warmth, and the biting chill that held the air around them.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry—” Farideh cried, muffled through her hands as Havilar sat down beside her, wrapping an arm around her back and giving her an awkward pat on her good shoulder.
“That no good, hell-born piece of karshoji–” Mehen grimaced, letting out a growl of frustration before turning to Farideh, almost accusatory. “What did he do? Did he hurt you? Force you to–”
“No, Mehen, he didn’t do anything” Farideh let her hands fall to her lap, looking at her hands, smooth and unmarred—just as he had seen…and felt…and touched…
“Explain the tree, child.” Mehen glared down at her, pointing at the smoking tree splinters wrought with glowing purple embers.
She pursed her lips, looking over at Havilar who gave her a confused shrug. She sighed, holding up her hands in defeat. “He came to fulfill his end of the pact.”
She opened her eyes, looking to Mehen who looked like he was about to combust. Farideh blinked before stuttering out the rest. “N-NOT like that, no, I was scared it was that too, no, we didn’t agree to that.” Her voice died in her throat as she thought about the kiss, her face reddening before continuing. “He told me there is danger on Toriel, and that utilizing the power of our pact is better than no defense at all.” She looked down, yet again, at the soft skin of her hands, a pang of guilt aching in her chest. “I didn’t want to be useless.”
His sigh was all the response she needed before burying her face in her hands again. She heard the plop of the falchion sinking in the snow and his presence sitting down beside her. “Farideh, you are not useless, nor are you defenseless…anymore.”
She looked up.
“You weren’t always, uh…” he cleared his throat, his gill twitching. “Skilled, uh, with a sword. Or a glaive. Or, uh, anything of the sort.”
“You’re telling me.” She pouted.
“We’re breaking this pact.” He replied sternly, placing a hand on her shoulder, causing the brand to flare with heat. Maybe that was Lorcan, scoffing. “But being able to defend yourself, that isn’t such a bad thing. Let’s just practice elsewhere, yeah?”
Farideh swallowed hard before nodding, allowing a nervous smile to stretch across her face. “So you’re okay if I learn more spells?”
“Not without supervision, young lady.” Mehen grumbled. “He left no room for Brahma, and I expect better. If he doesn’t respect that, I will make him.”
“Father–”
“No buts! No devil-boys for my daughters, that’s for sure.” He stood, picking up his falchion and flipping it around. “I’ll skewer him and test just how hot a devil gets before they cook.”
“I’ll give ‘im the glaive, that’ll get his wings flapping.” Havilar shot up, glaive in hand as she pretended to run him through. She paused, sending Farideh a wink, before playing into the bit and beginning to spar with their father. Farideh laughed, wiping away residual tears with the mended sleeve and putting some snow over the brand, cooling the ache.
This newfound power, it will protect this. No Arush Vayem, no stone farmhouse, no books for Garago, and no scrutiny from Criella. She had her family, and she could protect them.
Or die trying, the voice in her head replied.
No, I’ll make sure you don’t, a deeper, richer voice replied. This is only the beginning.