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Nuala stirred, drawing a deep breath, a smile curling her lips that felt almost forgotten; that unfamiliar edge tugged at her for a moment, and she wondered-
Nuada moved, and Nuala relaxed, turning towards him. He lifted a hand, voice a low murmur, and Nuala’s smile widened, her brother’s return a warm pulse in her chest. They had often been parted - more and more as the decades passed, and both their need and his own nature called Nuada to the front lines of battle, both shield and spear for their people - but familiarity, acceptance, of that necessity was by no means pleasure in the parting. And having him back. . .
While nothing could part them truly, fully - not with the bond of their shared soul between them, a surety that only their death would fray - the connection between their hearts was not like being together in body.
Not like being able to reach out, as Nuala did now, and brush her fingers over her brother’s lean hip, his side, feel his warmth; not like Nuada curling close over her, strong hands gentle, voice a low murmur that made her heart flutter.
Nuala stirred, drawing a breath, her heart fluttering.
‟Are you here, my brother?” Nuala murmured even as she awakened properly, casting her gaze through the shadows of her bower.
I am with you always, my dear sister. Nuada’s voice came to her in proper words this time, smoothing the discordant note that had spoiled her dream. She saw the echo of him in the shadows, standing tall in her bower as he had often in her memories, ready to turn towards her with a laugh, with a pleading whisper, with hot eyes, but knew he was not there.
Only here, she thought, brushing her fingers over the centre of her chest through the soft silk of her nightdress. Nuada’s longing twined with her own, and Nuala sighed, closing her eyes on the mirage of her brother as she reached for the reality of him - far away, and yet. . .
Nuada’s heart thrummed within her own, almost, almost a shadow of his arms winding around her, his body pressing close, his breath tickling her neck. Nuala shivered and wished faintly that she could imagine it better, call up the feelings so well as she could the sight of him, and yet. . .
A pang - hers? his? perhaps both - twisted in her chest.
Nuala did not, truly, wish for the ability to fool herself more skilfully, she only wanted her brother back with her.
Ah, that, I am afraid, may never be again, dear sister. Nuada’s sorrow filled the words, and Nuala struggled to restrain her own bitterness.
Nuada had left of his own accord, but on the precipice of exile; a choice made to spare their people - to spare her - that eventuality.
A careful evaluation - knowledge of both their people and Nuala’s hearts - that their father had certainly not considered, not had, Nuala thought, fingers curling until her nails dug into her skin.