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Ro tossed a look over his shoulder and snorted, “Just leave her. She deserves whatever she gets,” he snapped as a shimmering liquid emerald portal yawned open. He paused for a moment and looked from Linnis to the Dragon Elf. “Mira… I hate to ask… but could you help my wife? I’ve tried but I can’t bring her beyond the Gangrel myself. I need your talents.”
Beyond him could be seen a chamber in the Palace and movement in the background revealed An’Thaya, looking stressed and pale, and now slightly shocked as she took in the shadowy images beyond the opening vortex.
"Leaving her behind is simply not an issue with me." Jade eyes flicked dismissively from Linnis to Y'Roden, "I rather suspect she'll find her way home, like it or not though." Mira muttered as she slipped away from Bran with great reluctance to stand near Y'Roden.
"Y'Roden...I would not deny you. I cannot refuse your request, but..." Mira's own soul reached out for Bran's, strands of black which still eclipsed the silver and jade coiled around the steel and verdant greens of her husband.
"This isn't like patching up cuts and broken bones..." As the four of them stepped through to Nenlante, Mira's fingers brushed a thick lock of Arianne's raven hair away from her pale face, "Who she was, and who she may be once I'm finished, may not be what you are hoping for..."
Jade eyes went pointedly to An'Thaya, "What you ask of me...will forever change the warp and weft of the tapestry of her soul."
Y’Roden looked at his sister and seemed to ponder things for a moment before returning to Mira’s gaze.
“If you do not… then there may be nothing of Silverthorn left. I would rather her be changed, than not exist at all. What I want or need is not important, what matters… is that Arianne survives.”
“Oh my Gods… Ro? What happened?” The Amazon pushed flaming locks of hair away from her face and swept the bed curtains aside so her brother could lay his wife on the comforter. “Whose blood is that? Both of you are… and the burns? Holy Flame and Chaos… has Xraden started stalking the two of you?” As she ranted the tiny redhead pulled a blanket up over her sister-in-law. “These are IRON burns!” There was obvious distaste in her voice as Tay stalked to the door and ordered the Guards about.
“Bring me some IronBane, now. Send the servants up with something to eat as well.”
Bran stepped through, the portal closing behind him as he did so. Jade eyes went to where his sister lay and then he walked silently over to his wife. The elf's hands closed over her shoulders from behind in reassurance. "I'm here if you need me" he murmured.
Mira nodded slowly to Bran as she peered over her shoulder at him, "Aye...I would not do this without your help. She is, after all, a Badb Catha..." Her head tilted slowly as she turned her eyes back to Y'Roden.
"Be careful what you ask for, Y'Roden D'Riel. She might be better off dead before I am finished." Mira slipped out from under Bran's reassuring touch and her fingers stroked Arianne's cold flesh at her temples and jaw.
The half-elf went rigid, his eyes following Mira's movements for a moment, nearly reaching out to stop her as doubts crept in. An'Thaya's hand on his arm was a quiet restraint, the look she gave her brother one that said to trust his gut instinct.
Mira's eyes seemed to haze slightly, a loss of focus that came from looking within. Strong fingers slid to Silverthorn's throat and slowly began to tighten until her rhythmic pulse could be felt throbbing in the dragon-elf's grip. Mira's own heart began to slow, skipped several beats, raced...then nearly stopped. When it returned to a normal pace, it was in perfect time with Silverthorn's.
"Arianne..." Mira's soul sought that of her sister-in-law, "Let me in..."
Roiling mists swirled in the depths of Silverthorn's soul, silver and black tendrils twining around each other like vines that fought as if to strangle the life from the other. Elf struggled against vampire, trying desperately to resurface, to take control once more, but the Gangrel was strong. Stronger than she'd ever imagined. Suppressed for centuries, banished to nightmares and fed on grief, the darker part of her being had had a long time of being little more than a whisper on the wind. She was not going back there. Not now she had tasted freedom once more. Viciously she tore at the shimmering strands of the elf's soul, shredding and ripping. The dragon-elf's soft words were barely heard above the battle raging in mind and soul.
Bran placed a hand on his wife's shoulder, verdant green and steel threads reaching out for his wife. "Easy" he murmured, feeling both their heartbeats stutter for a second, "you can do this."
A detached, soft smile framed Mira's face. Aye, she could do this...Arianne could not lock her out...she could not refuse the Soul-Healer. Mira's soul had touched Silverthorn's once before, through an agonized Y'Roden D'Riel, they had exchanged blood and wounds...asking permission was a mere formality on Mira's behalf.
A whip-crack of Mira's black threads shot forward, lashed the threads that she knew to not belong to the true Arianne Badb Catha, the darkness that was patently ignoring Mira's presence and was feeding off the silver of Arianne's true self.
"I asked nicely once. Let me in Saag'nii...or I will rip you apart, rather than try to salvage your existence."
A hissed breath escaped Silverthorn, the tensing of her body an outward indicator of the turmoil that wracked her soul. Eyes still closed, the dark-haired elf's fingers dug into the sheets beneath her as she arched, trying to throw Mira off.
"You threaten ME?" the vampire snarled, striking back at the dragon-elf with vicious speed. "This is MY existence. She chose to become me, but she did not choose to be turned back. That bitch of a goddess did that. This is where I have a RIGHT to be."
The silver and black mist swirled in ever faster spirals with her increasing fury, tendrils being ripped away from the emerald galaxy that anchored it with the violence of the motion.
"I do not threaten you...I promise you..." Mira's weight shifted, became heavy enough to force the air out of Silverthorn's lungs had she lay fully upon her. The Dragon-elf’s own tarnished soul seized strands of the vampire's black, her own hate and malicious nature seeped into her gift...the turning of healing into rending. As the Gangrel in Silverthorn's soul tried to consume the elf, the vampire's own tapestry was being shredded behind her.
"She chose...and she has to live with that, I can either offer balance...or rip you out and save what I can of her..."
Chill laughter echoed around Mira's mind. "Save her? I AM her" the vampire retorted, slashing at the bonds that tied the dragon elf to her husband, trying to sever the connection. "Look and see."
Into the minds of everyone connected to the S'Hean Queen crept images from her past. Dark hair spilled over the arm of an alabaster-skinned man whose fangs sank into her throat whilst she showed no sign of resistance. Quite the contrary. With the images came sensations, emotions... the scent of blood, the sharp pain of the fangs and the dark ecstasy of death and unlife.
A low growl was a warning sign and Tay tightened her grip on Ro's arm, reminding him of the present reality and drawing him from whatever internal battle he was fighting. A slight bleed of red through emerald jewels had her worried, but ready to do what she had to, should the demon push through to the surface.
He responded, just barely, caught between rising carnal desires and the revulsion... no, fury, at seeing his Silverthorn in the arms of another man, past or present didn't matter. The visualisation held crystal clarity and roused a part of him that often lay dormant these days.
"Careful," Tay whispered, "lest you accidentally weave something into your wife you would rather not be there."
It was almost too much...the sensual lure Mira felt within those memories. Always the Saag'nii had been viewed as near-kindred...their lusts and desires to hunt were so very similar to that of the Black race. The need to seduce and play with prey was a common thread they shared, and for a moment, the dragon-elf was lost in the moment, her body almost writhing in reaction to the blood-lust.
Gods!...it had her reeling, fighting for air and wanting to drown in it at the same time...then silver and jade strands became acutely aware of the attempts to sever Bran's bond to her. Rage swept through her, the vampire would drag her down with her, into an abyss of misery and madness that she might not be able to crawl out of...
She would not walk that road....
"You are her...and so too is this..." While black strands continued plucking and unravelling that which was Gangrel, silver and jade began tangling around Arianne's brighter silver and the shade of emerald green that belonged to Y'Roden D'Riel, the memories of their daughters being born...moments of tender love and violent passion felt between she and her husband. Memories of a life as a hired assassin and Raven...memories that only a bondmate had the right to see, yet the SoulHealer was pulling to the fore as though she were sliding books from a shelf.
"Mira?" Silverthorn's voice whispered through her mind, dazed and confused. "What are you...? Oh Gods!"
A scream ripped from her throat as the bloodlust hit, the force as strong as that in any newly awakened vampire. Sheets shredded as ragged nails convulsed, the elf's body almost trying to tie itself in knots. Jade eyes opened, their expression dark and yet clear. "Get out! Leave! Gods!" she growled, before they hazed over once more. Blood poured from the open wound on her shoulder as the ferocity of the movement ripped it still further.
"Dammit it to hell!" Bran swore, his hands tightening around his wife. The images that had played through his mind were ones he truly had no wish to see, but he did not flinch back. Steel and green tendrils tightened around the soul of the dragon-elf, holding on to her with all his strength.
The tang of real blood, not that which was remembered, flooded the room and Silverthorn's blood soaked not only the sheets, but Mira as well. Slim fingers tangled in raven locks so like her own and cranked Silverthorn's head back.
"I. WILL. NOT leave." Her soul grappled with both that of the elf and the vampire, "Look at me! NOW!" Mira's voice had changed subtly, not the usual husky alto, but something more. Every ounce of her training poured into her persona, not Mira the lover of Bran, the mother of her children, or even daughter of Callan Blackthorn, but that of one who was raised to someday hold the Black Throne as her own.
And all the while, Silver and Emerald strands were being quietly rewoven on the backside of this battle...for every strand of black that frayed free, Mira's gift was reworking the tapestry with all that was Arianne Badb Catha and all that was available through her bond to Y'Roden D'Riel. It was a delicate thing, something that was slipping below the vampire's awareness, and even more carefully done as Mira now knew just how much she could take from a D'Riel soul without setting Y'Roden's own soul off balance...which wasn't a lot...but it was enough.
Jade eyes snapped back to meet jade, the S'Hean Queen's shining feverishly bright. "I... can't... stop... her" she gasped out, chest heaving. "Won't... take... others... with me... Please... GO!"
Only the dragon-elf's weight was keeping her on the bed as she twisted about. Torn sheets were kicked on to the floor, the elf herself almost joining them. Nails bit deeply into her own arms as Silverthorn fought back the urge to reach out, to sink her teeth into the throat of whoever was nearest and drink. Blood dripped onto the floor from the gouges.
"We are not leaving Arianne," Ro finally found his voice, his own small battle to keep the Demon far from Mira's weavings one of intense concentration, "I am not leaving." He stepped closer to the bed, reaching out to gently stroke Thorn's face despite the ferocity of her struggles, "Look at me Vesse... listen to me..."
His tone was soft, a subtle attempt at distraction, making Mira's task a little easier.
The quiet words filtered into her consciousness. "Melda?" she whispered, jade eyes unfocussed as Silverthorn was torn between the inward battle and what was going on outside. "I'm sorry, I... I didn't mean to..."
“I’m right here… concentrate on me now. Can you do that? Can you hear our heartbeat?” Sliding to his knees beside the bed the half-elf traced the line of his wife’s jaw, using tactile sensation, sound and soul to keep her focused.
“ Look deep inside yourself Arianne… I’m right there where I have always been. Let me help you, let us help you. ” With slow deliberation he let more of himself drift towards Mira, glimmering threads of emerald on her horizon. At the same time, he bolstered Silverthorn with the iron will that had carried Y’Roden D’Riel through more planes of hell that anyone should ever have to see.
"All I can see is blood" she whispered in panic-stricken tones. "Lots of blood... lots and lots..." The sing-song note of hysteria started to creep into her words. The S'Hean Queen's hands dug like claws into her own flesh, gouging wounds that she did not even seem to feel. "You won't make me go back... Please... not there... no..."
"I have no intentions of making you go back..." Mira growled at the vampire that struggled to cling to Silverthorn's soul, "In fact..." Threads of black, jade, silver and now more and more emerald were already forming a tight weave behind the Saag'nii, "You couldn't leave now if you wanted to."
The Dragon-elf's eyes rolled open, giving her a strange sense of duality as she looked with her soul and her body at Arianne, "Look at me." Mira's voice cracked at first, as though she hadn't the strength to speak, "LOOK at me." Her tanned fingers caught Silverthorn beneath the chin and fanned out along her jaw, forcing her head back.
"This is not the Arianne I know...weak...afraid..." Mira lowered her head to whisper and loose tendrils of raven hair tickled the other woman on the neck and cheek, "whimpering..." The sound was a sibilant, disdainful hiss, "I smell it on you...fear and weakness. I should kill you now, rather than waste my time with you."
A tarnished silver blade whispered from beneath the thin skin at her wrist, found its way to her throat and started to cut a clean line across Silverthorn's cold flesh.
"Either fight or die, elf..."
Jade eyes snapped back to the dragon elf, the tentative reach towards her husband's soul dying unfinished as a thin trickle of blood ran down the S'Hean Queen's already stained skin. Within her something broke free.
"Then so be it" she whispered.
Bran's eyes widened and he suddenly grabbed his wife, hauling her backwards, unheeding of the blade she dragged across his sister's throat and pinning her down onto the floor beside the bed with the weight of his body.
"Everybody down!"
Catslit pupils widened, spiralling out to engulf jade iris and white orb alike in obsidian darkness as black fire enveloped the dark-haired elf, exploding throughout the chamber like a dying star, incinerating everything in its path.
Wildfire shifting on the wind… like a forest fire suddenly changing direction, then having the oxygen that fuelled it snuffed out. Untouched by Silverthorn’s flame Y’Roden rose to his feet beside the bed, the burning bed curtains whipping about his form as the soul that gave him life became visible. Spanning half the room its galaxy of stars spun wildly around a vortex that was blacker than black, and it was this, the conduit that was his birthright, that drank in the dark power his wife had unleashed.
A second galaxy overlapped the first, this one a wounded myriad of emerald light and silvery onyx stars in an ongoing fused pattern. It seemed to reach towards infinity, drifting out of sight and coming up against the wards, in search of its other half. An’Thaya’s eyes were wide, terrified as she lent aide to her brother. What was being done had only ever been attempted on a grand scale by herself and B’Rodyn D’Riel. A magical duet played on the Aethyr, two conduits working in tandem… dangerous under the best of circumstances, and An’Thaya’s soul was still healing.
The two galaxies superimposed, one drawing in black fire, the other expelling living Aethyr that crackled over Silverthorn D’Riel in a healing wave. Both D’Riel siblings screamed, An’Thaya going down on her knees where Y’Roden only rocked in place. Still, the redhead held fast, resting her forehead against the side of Ro’s leg and going quiet. The S’Hean King opened his eyes and nodded slowly to Mira, his head haloed by electric Aethyr that lifted his chestnut locks and gave his eyes a surreal shine.
The S'Hean Queen's scream echoed that of the D'Riel siblings as black fire tore through her soul. The dark magic that was her birthright was as much a curse as it was a blessing. Without control it could consume everything for miles around, eventually destroying even the person that wielded it as, like the wild magic it was, it took the reins itself. Almost insane, wounded in both body and soul, what little control Silverthorn still had over her own abilities disappeared.
Obsidian fire clashed with the emerald light of the Aethyr, drawing another broken, pained scream from her lips as one force sought to burn her up from the inside as quickly as the other healed.
"Oh dear Gods!"
Bran's words were a horrified whisper as he realised what was happening. The fair-haired elf had only seen once before what could happen if the wildfire that burned within a Badb Catha's soul raged out of control. He had no wish to see it again, especially with his own sister. He could still remember the stink of burned meat that had lingered in the air even when all that was left of the victim was a pile of ashes and scraps of charred clothing. Involuntarily he gagged.
Face stark, he looked down at his wife. "Mira? Mira, are you alright?"
Slim fingers pushed against Bran's chest, "Aye...and while most of the time, I don't mind you being on top of me..." The dragon-elf hauled herself to her feet and eyed Silverthorn and Ro, then Bran.
"Oh gods..." It was a whisper, no more, "Bran..." Mira tugged at her husband pulling him further from his sister and her husband
The tide was beginning to turn, Ro slowly realizing that he was going to have to do this on his own. The D’Riels had been born to wield power, to harness the forces of magic and bend them to their will. Once drawn into a conduit any source was at its mercy, capable of being reined in, turned on its caster, or used at ten times its strength for another purpose.
With a surge of strength the S’Hean King snuffed the flames and mercilessly struck into Arianne’s soul, lashing tendrils of emerald weaving through silver and black, drawing tight in a tapestry that threatened to unbalance his galaxy, but somehow held steady. With a slow progression, the nexus of his soul overlapped the guttering flame of Thorn’s, locking them into a dangerous balance, a symbiotic bond that held them captive to one another.
I am not letting you go. Not now, not ever.
From the floor, An’Thaya watched with a mix of awe and terror, desperately withdrawing her dual soul from Ro’s. If Silverthorn chose to fight him, that silver flame would be sucked into the vortex and Y’Roden’s soul would implode in on itself. It wasn’t just one life at stake now.
Another involuntary scream ripped from a throat already sore and inflamed. Fingers dug into what remained of the bed as his wife fought to anchor herself to something... anything... despite the pain from fingertips that were blackened and raw, burnt from within.
You have to. Gods, Ro please... Cut me loose. Let me go. You'll die like this.
The chestnut fringe between Y’Roden’s eyes fluttered in the breeze stirred up by his own soul, dancing between emerald eyes that seemed lost in the distance, unseeing.
Either way… I’ll die, and you know it. So it is down to this, we die together, or we live. I choose life, I choose it for both of us. We have too much to live for, even beyond what we have in one another.
He appeared calm, and on some level he was, yet underlying it all was stark terror. Not fear for his own life, but the possibility of losing his wife. He had lived too long without love to lose it now.
“Get out,” he said aloud, “all three of you… now.”
“Ro?” Tay stirred on the floor, unsure she could do as he asked, even if she wanted to. “I’m not leaving you like this. Let me help.”
“Get… out,” the half-elf’s voice was strained, “you’ve already put yourself at risk. You don’t think I see do you? If I make it through this… I hardly want to deal with Callan as well.”
Bran's jade gaze lifted, going first to the charred body of his sister and then to his brother-in-law. The fair-haired elf wanted to protest, but the words died in his throat. Rising to his feet, he held out a hand to Mira and then walked across to the petite redhead. "He's right. Whatever happens now has to be between them" he said in a voice that was calmer than he felt. Bending, he scooped her up into his arms. "Just don't stab me, alright?"
"Aye...that's my job, Thaya," Mira muttered and peered back over her shoulder. She'd done all she could do, there was nothing more a soul-healer could do...the rest was indeed left up to Y'Roden D'Riel.
An’Thaya tensed, a low growl in her throat an automatic reaction to any other male touching her other than Callan. She had fallen easily in to the person she had been centuries ago, and if the Amazon had been up to par, she likely would have carved Bran up like a roast dinner. As it was, she simply glared at the fair-haired elf and bit back an angry retort. The redhead was desperately tired and in more inner pain then she cared to admit. Tay just wanted to go home.
Y’Roden waited until he heard the soft click of the door before letting his mind refocus, his attention completely on his wife.
So… Arianne D’Riel… Vesse… what is it going to be?
Torn between the need to protect her husband and her desire to just let go of everything, Silverthorn shuddered. Tentative strands of silver trailed out from the guttering candle that flickered at the heart of her soul, reaching out to the emerald galaxy that whirled around them. Threads locked on, anchoring themselves wherever they could find purchase, even upon the walls of the conduit.
"Ro, I can't. I'll kill you. I won't be responsible for your soul collapsing in on itself. Too many people need you."
The dark-haired elf had seen what had happened when his sister's soul had fallen apart. She wouldn't do that to the man she loved. She couldn't.
“They need you too Arianne… I need you. So, you are going to have to stay. We are going to stay.”
Emerald cords wound around strands of silver like lengths of wild ivy, tying her to him in a tidy tangle of life energy, binding her soul inextricably to his own. It was a horrible risk, an act of complete trust and love that left Y’Roden completely at her mercy. The D’Riel soul was an incredibly powerful, yet unbelievably fragile entity. One wrong wrench or tear and all would be lost.
"Aminmela lle."
The half-elf moved, finally, coming closer to the bed. Aethyr danced along his fingertips, crackling through the air in a wash of emerald that rinsed away the charred surroundings, a wave ripping towards his wife in a dancing, flickering sea of power. Callused, though gentle fingers, touched on Silverthorn’s burned flesh, healing as they trailed over her body.
Sliding his arm beneath Thorn’s back, Ro lifted her to his chest as he settled on the bed, his free hand brushing at her hair. Emerald stars whirled about them in the forever stately orbit of his galactic soul, punctuated here and there with brilliant silver threads.
"Aminmela ile ana."
Jade eyes lifted to meet emerald with an air of faint desperation as the dark-haired elf curled into his warmth. Tremors ran down her spine constantly, reaction finally setting in as what had happened to her began to seep properly into her consciousness.
"Oh Gods, Ro! I don't want to hurt you" she whispered. Memories of the asylum and the events there flickered through her mind like scenes from a bad movie, fuzzy and unclear, yet horrifying. A sob choked in the S'Hean Queen's throat. "I bit you... and Mira, is Mira alright? I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. And... him? What happened to him?" She started to shake as the nightmare blazed through her head in vivid Technicolor.
Through it all she could feel her husband's soul like a warm touch, closer than it had ever been before, more entwined than it had ever been before. No longer was she on the outskirts of the emerald galaxy, now the silver threads penetrated right to the very heart, caught up in the stately dance.
“Everyone is alright,” he murmured, “you can bite me anytime you like, and Mira is fine.” The S’Hean went quiet for a moment, “he is dead. He’ll not be bothering you ever again.” His hands and forearms were still stained with the Doctor’s blood, crimson evidence of just how vindictive and vicious Y’Roden could be. He had enjoyed every moment of it, and now? There wasn’t a shred of guilt on his conscience.
“Let’s get you into a bath, ok? Then you have two choices. Food or sleep?” Relaxing the near crushing grip on his wife Ro lifted his head and smiled down at her, brushing a soft kiss across her mouth. “Just breathe, I’ll take care of everything else.”
Silverthorn nodded, huddling against him like a frightened child as she shivered. "A bath would be nice." The elf felt as if she would never be clean again, the dirt and blood more than skin-deep. A sudden panic went through her. "You won't leave me, will you?" Right now she wasn't certain that she could cope with being alone.
Shifting, Ro slid his free arm beneath Thorn’s knees and lifted her up, nuzzling into her hair as he rose from the bed. “No, I’m not going to leave you… just try to make me leave. You’ll have one hell of a fight on your hands.”
The scent of fresh water was a balm to his senses and he paused only long enough to kick off his boots before taking the stairs down into the bath, settling with Thorn on one of the lower steps, still fully clothed, but unwilling to release his hold on her long enough to undress.
Gathering her raven tresses in one hand, he pushed them over one shoulder and started in with strawberry soap and a soft sponge, methodically scrubbing away dirt, soot and blood.
Dark lashes closed over jade eyes, the elf letting his touch soothe frazzled nerves. The delicate scent of strawberry filled the air, replacing the smell of blood and burning that had tormented her for days. A faint sob caught in her throat, tears trickling unheeded down her dirt-stained cheeks. Her eyes were almost glazed as they stared at her hands, the ragged nails encrusted with blood and worse.
Instinctively she snatched up a sponge and began to scrub at her skin. All she wanted was to be clean again. Why couldn't she get clean? Beneath the frantic scrubbing her skin began to grow red and angry-looking.
“Hey… hey!” Ro caught at his wife’s hands, “that is my job.” Catching her chin he forced Thorn to look up at him, “Vesse… relax… breathe, alright?" Watery hands brushed away her tears, “Just listen to the sound of my voice and breathe. Close your eyes… and trust me.” His rich baritone wove off into a melodic S’Hean song as he took the sponge from her and returned to his gentle attentions, strands of magic in the tune weaving a soothing peace through his soul and into hers.
Shaking, the dark-haired elf relaxed back against him. The water lapped against her skin, it's warmth reassuring, although not as much as that of the half-elf behind her. Closing her eyes, the music drifted around them, drawing her deep inside their bond. Here was where she had always felt safe, her soul touching his, sinking into the place where they connected. The beat of his heart... their hearts... echoed loudly in her mind as silvery tendrils reached out to him with a sense of awed wonder and let herself be swept away.
With slow patience, Y’Roden sponged away the physical evidence of the asylum from his wife’s skin and washed her hair, singing softly all the while. Profound relief coloured his soul and he found as much comfort in their connection as Arianne did. With quiet, careful movements, he carried Thorn out into the middle of the pool and slid his hand beneath her back.
The S'Hean Queen tensed, dark lashes fluttering open. "Ro?" The single word was an anxious question.
"Relax… trust me… I’m right here."
Letting the water buoy her body, he gently tilted her head back and withdrew his hand, leaving her floating on the surface with the sound of his voice for company. Stripping off his shirt and trousers Ro took the soap to himself, washing away grit and blood from several sources.
Slowly his wife relaxed back into the water, her eyes closing once more as the tension eased from her body. The sensation was not unlike being in a cocoon; warm, comforting... safe. The sound of her husband's voice, his gentle touch, the feel of his soul around hers soothed the elf as nothing else could have done. Love wrapped her up in a secure blanket that took anyway any need to do anything other than simply be. With complete trust she placed body and soul in his hands and felt not the slightest twinge of fear.
Strong hands slid beneath his wife’s body once more and he lifted her out of the water, wading back to the steps and leaving a wet path across the marble. Snagging towels from the rack with the tips of his fingers the S’Hean King re-entered their bedroom, settling Thorn on the edge of the bed and drying her off with a fluffy white towel that was subsequently wrapped around her torso.
“I think,” he murmured, “that we could use some sun. Don’t you?” The second towel was put to use drying himself off, then hooked around his waist. “I say we sleep out there.” He pointed towards the balcony. It wasn’t a question really, as evidenced when he picked her up again and absconded with her into the post Zenith sunlight.
A few moments later he was settled in on a lounge chair, Thorn’s back against his chest as he cradled her body between his thighs. “Much better.”
His only response was a drowsy murmur as the dark-haired elf snuggled into his embrace, rubbing her cheek against him in a cat-like fashion. Sunlight washed over her body in a soft golden wave, warming her skin and beginning to dry damp raven locks. It seemed so hard to think, and so she didn't try. She didn't want to think anyway, didn't want to have to remember. There were bound to be consequences, but right at that moment she was not capable of dealing with them. It was all she could do to just keep breathing and so she concentrated on that. Slow, even breaths. The warmth of sunlight on recently bathed flesh. Waterfalls cascading down just beyond the place where they sat.
The sweet scent of strawberry soap and beneath that the warmer, darker scent that was indefinably Y'Roden tickled her senses and she sighed. "Aminmela ile, verno" she murmured, "ar hantale. An ilya."
“Nothing to thank me for,” Ro murmured, nuzzling his wife’s hair, “especially not for being selfish and holding you to me. I love you Arianne.” Kissing the top of her head, he let his own fall back, face to the warmth of the suns as weariness crept up on him. It was a blessing just to be here together, the simple pleasures of life all around them.
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