rowancrowned | fade rift ✧ inbox

[ softly: ] I am sorry for ignoring you.

[ and that is sincere, not by rote. the hand falls. again, he hesitates before speaking. ]

You must understand-- must, because I can no more change this about myself than Yngvi could grow taller-- that I will never be able to behave like that. I am Quendi, there are consequences for such things that I would not impose upon Iorveth unless he wants them.

If I could break that rule, then what next? Kinslaying? It does not mean I do not love you.

I don't know what you mean by 'like that'.

( her frustration is acute, and though the apology—the sincerity—blunts some of the sharpness, that lack of understanding between them is still cavernous enough that she can't quite feel reassured. she can't be sure she's even managed to explain what upset her; it didn't feel at the time as if she had, and it doesn't, now. )

We don't have to be intimate with him, you don't have to do anything that you can't do. But we weren't. There wasn't anything intimate or personal about what happened. I might as well have not been there for all it mattered that I was, and it was—

I was miserable. I don't know what it is you think I wanted except you. With me. To matter that I was there.

You matter, [ he says. ] You are everything.

[ in an unsent letter: 'perhaps I loved you from the moment on the balcony.' ]

It was too much without the promise of it being anything at all. I will not-- bind myself to him in that way without it binding him too. [ he drags his hand through his hair to bring it being his ear, too violent for such a simple movement. ]

That is what it would have been, with him there. I should have stopped it before that, but I did not. And I was raw, then, and all I wished to do was hold you, hold him, but as I was of no use to you, like you had no utility for any part of my but my prick, you left.

[ softer: ] Do not put me aside like one of your toys. You cannot.

That isn't what I-

( it's the same, she realises, abrupt. they had the exact same fucking problem from different angles and in spite of herself, she laughs, sudden and hard to precisely read the mood of.

of course. they've always, in some ways, shared more than they don't. the ways that tie them together. )

I can't do that, either, ( she says, more carefully. ) I can't...that felt so...

( her teeth press into her lip, and she says, ) It's the same. I don't want to just screw. And that's all it was, I just-

You weren't with me. At all. It's not about using your body, it's what's the fucking point if we don't feel together? I love you. I want him, but if it has to be like that, let's just not, all right? It made me feel...exactly like that. Exactly what you're talking about. And I understand what you mean, because that. I don't know how to make you understand that's how you made me feel, that it's -

It's not all right for me just because I'm fucking human. You can't treat me like that and then complain I didn't hold you nicely afterwards.

( a little more moderately, catching herself: ) I was trying to do the right thing. To not just bring that back to bed. I felt sordid and lonely. I didn't want to, I don't know, make those things something I felt with you. I didn't want to be held later and not be able to forget it making me feel unloved. I thought if I just swallowed it and was quiet it'd stop bothering me.

Edited 2018-08-04 23:30 (UTC)

No, [ he says. ] It only sits between us until it becomes this.

[ this being not talking to one another until the space between them felt like a rabid, angry thing. how often during the negotiations had his thoughts turned to her, and his hand reached for his crystal, only to pull it back as if burned. ]

We make a great deal of trouble for one another, Gwenaëlle.

[ he holds his hand out for her, as solicitous as a gentleman asking for a dance. she has not drawn all the way back from the door, but he thinks that maybe she could be persuaded to come away to him. ]

( her tense indecision holds, taut, teetering on an edge; she thinks, how much fucking time have I wasted already resisting what I want, makes the smallest noise of exasperated frustration with herself and relents, lets him have her hand and draws into his orbit. inevitably.

she says, into his chest, ) I didn't want to be angry with you.

( and it twisted into resentment, instead, insecurity poison that curdled everything after. )

[ he dips his head to kiss her hair, and the arm that encircles her waist enforces the likelihood that she's not going anywhere for awhile. ]

We both thought the other was being cruel.

[ and then they talked it out, like adults. ]

We are becoming better at this, [ he allows. his fingertips press into the small of her back, right before her skirts bloom out, as if he can just keep her close with so faint a touch. ] If not for our duties to the Inquisition, we would have spoken of this sooner.

( her exhalation breathes out the tension in her shoulders and under his hand, and she curls her fingers into his sleeve, crumpling it in a tight grip. )

You caught me completely off-guard, with the phylactery. I needed to be somewhere else, I didn't know how to speak to you yet.

( an offer: )

If you can't tell me all of something. At least that there is something. As much as you can tell me. That I'm braced, that I know we'll be able to talk about it eventually, so I can trust you. I know there'll be things, but - I don't have to be that ignorant.

( it self-evidently did not help. )

Edited 2018-08-05 01:35 (UTC)

Thank you, [ he says. ] for going elsewhere when you needed to.

[ rather than keep both of them here, or her sitting here, stewing in her confinement. the fresh air was good for her, even if it was less 'fresh air' and more 'air filled with rotting elven corpses and also a blood lake'.

because then this fight may well have been worse, and while they will not break- he will not allow it- they may have been apart for longer.

this he allows next, the words a hesitation, as he says what she ought to know. ]

There are things in motion. Things that, should Galadriel falter, would allow our plans to continue.

The Veil is the problem, you think.

( even if galadriel doesn't falter - the fade is the fade and rifters, whether she acknowledges the precariousness of her own family or not, are rifters. she has faded back into it before. she could again. is power trapped, or were they simply shaped without it?

she'll voice that thought, eventually. she isn't sure now is the moment. so maybe she shouldn't push too hard at him, either, she might allow. )

In what way would they allow that?

( testing the edges. )

I know. For both the Elvhen and for the Quendi. The Magistered breached the Golden City, the Elvhen Empire fell, the Blight fell upon this world. You have forgotten your history, but I cannot help but assume they are all linked. Something foul spread across this world, and the Veil is at the center of it.

[ and no explanation given for that, thank you.

he smiles, shows a sliver of his teeth. ]

A unity of purpose. We were unoriginal in our plans.

Edited (unfinished thought) 2018-08-05 02:23 (UTC)

Allies.

( there are really only so many things a statement like that, as vague as it is, can actually mean and still make any sense. )

And you don't want me to be able to tell anyone who they are.

( is she keeping up so far. )

Yes.

[ to both. because she is a remarkably clever girl when she needs to be (which is always) but she was never suited for the game, and he will not entangle her in this one any more than she already is. ]

Meet me halfway, ( quietly, turning and twisting her fingers in fabric. ) We can't be doing everything completely separately, or we'll just—

I don't know, the best case for that is we turn around one day and discover we live different lives and might as well go on doing that. And the worst is I can still screw everything up for you if I don't know anything about what you're doing.

How? [ he asks, with his fingers curled around hers. ] There are things I will not risk telling you, for reasons you well know, names I cannot name, but ask whatever you wish of me and you shall have it as best as I can give it.

[ he kisses her forehead, lips resting there after- ]

I will not be separated from you, [ and then, ] I do not believe all the Elvhen are dead.

If you keep me apart from the things that you do, then the only thing separating us is you choosing to keep us separate. If you were waiting centuries to do anything and living your life present with me now, that would be one thing, but you aren't or there wouldn't be any fucking secrets to keep in the first place.

( the words are sharp, but the voice is tired; she has turned this over and over and over in her hands for weeks now and it's no less frustrating, because it's no easier to solve. he's right, that there are things she shouldn't know; she's right, that if it's everything then they've given up before they begin.

'how'. she wants to have a solution ready, but she'd have reached out sooner if she did. )

Like, for instance, I have no idea what you're talking about. Obviously all elves aren't dead. I walked past seven on the way here.

( the glibness very thinly veils that frustration, and not in any way intended to actually disguise it. )

I want...

I want to actually have a life together. Is it too much to ask of you that we make plans for our future together? You need to tell me if I can't expect you to be a husband to me.

( this is calmer than before. they're discussing it, now; he is listening, and so is she. )

[ he breathes laughter against her hair, and pulls away to coax her to sitting on the bed, half in his lap with her back against his chest, his arm a belt about her waist. ]

No, [ he says. ] Elvhen, [ so she cannot miss it. ] The sons and daughters of Arlathtan.

[ he does not know how to make it plainer for her. ]

I want a home with you. I want to raise our children in peace. I cannot have any of these things without playing these games. I would stay with the Inquisition as long as they would have me, past Corypheus if they will give me the coin for it, for I know not who else might have me.

Edited 2018-08-06 02:12 (UTC)

( her hands are softer than she is by nature, when she tilts back—touches her fingertips to the edges of his jaw and tilts her to him, to meet her gaze properly. )

That's the future, Thranduil. I would like that future.

( it's patient. he knows how hard she tries, to be patient. )

I need you to stop forgetting that I am here in the present, and we have a life right now. And I'm not, any more than you are, sitting on my hands and waiting around for peace. So we need to be on the same page about what that looks like.

I don't mind if the work we do is different. I mind that it feels more and more that we work at cross-purposes entirely. I'm not delicate. Any more. I'm not going to sit here where you can see me be safe and do nothing and wait for you to build a house around me.

[ he says, softly, because she is not looking at him: ]

Calenmiriel died, alone and in terrible pain. I am afraid of the same befalling you.

( she lets him have that distance. she discards her first seven responses as—instinctively awkward, insufficient. that desire to pat everything back into place, to reassure blindly; he needs more than that. they both do.

what is all of this, if not proof of that. she drops her hands to curl her fingers through his, letting her head fall back against his shoulder, her gaze settling forward. )

I want to tell you something, but I don't want it to hurt you. Can you be a little bit patient with it?

Yes.

[ he can be very patient. ]

I spent most of my life wanting to die.

( her lips press together, and she has to take this slowly; things she has felt so deeply, so far down that there weren't words for them, the shape of those shadows hollowed out by the things she could say, write into her art. live in the things that she sought out, and the pain that wasn't always an accident—

she holds onto him. )

I would just...I wouldn't make plans. My life wasn't my own to end so it would be...selfish, to do that, but I would...do things. I would get myself into trouble and I would think—you know, what's the worst that happens? I die?

( her laugh is breathless. mirthless. )

I don't have to feel guilty if someone else does it. If I can tell myself I didn't choose, I just didn't care—and I can keep secrets, you know, my lord worked so hard and so constantly to keep me safe and under his nose, under his roof I would find ways to flout it, I'd play games with myself. If I can think of a worse thing I could be doing, then it's fine for me to do this terrible thing, because it isn't as bad. I can rationalize anything I want, if I want to. I have practised.

Alexander was, um. ( yeah cool just bring up your most recent ex with your husband, but— ) We were sleeping together, for a while, after my mother died, and he's—we have similar...tastes. You know.

( lex would do things in bed that thranduil will not, is what she's getting at. he can guess. )

And he was horrified about how—irresponsible I'd been. He wasn't gentle, but he was so careful. Deliberate. I'd never done that before, it'd—it was never purposeful, I'd never been—safe. I'd never known if I said stop, we'd stop. And I'd never had that conversation, or...put it into that context, I'd never made myself look at it. I'd never even thought someone else would be bothered that I didn't.

( a beneficial experience, in some ways, to navigating the things she and thranduil can do, and the things they can't. less unprepared for what he cares about. )

So when I tell you that I want to live, ( turning her cheek against his chest, her head tucked beneath his chin, ) I want you to know that I know what I'm saying. I can't promise that I won't get hurt. That that won't happen. But I spent a long fucking time not caring if it did, and I care now, I care so fucking much. I want to live. I will work so hard to come back to you for as long as I can. I have so many things to live for, and I want them. I don't want to do any of it without you.

[ he holds her. he can hear her heartbeat behind her birdcage ribs. he can hear that. the dragonfire did not take that from him. he thinks, how many nearly took you from me? he thinks of unsteady, human hands around her throat, clumsy human fingers with knives, and gwenaelle's voice urging them on, and he shudders.

swallows his fear.

'he cannot cloister her, he does not have the power' becomes 'he cannot cloister her, she does not want to be shut away'. ]

I wish to marry you in the Chantry. I would stand before all of them and bind us together in a way they understand, and so it means something to all of them, because I cannot put a claim on you so well and so universally understood as that one.

[ he brings her hand to his mouth, kisses the back of it. ]

Thank you for wanting to stay here, with me. I will be afraid when you are hurt, but I will be... less myself about that. I will try. And we will build the life we want together.

( her grip on the hand holding hers tightens, just perceptibly. )

That's the only reason I'm prepared to go through with that, I hope you know. ( wryly. ) I know all of the other reasons why it's good, why it should happen, why it could be beneficial—

I could argue against them. I could even make good points. But I want that, too.

( make everyone acknowledge what is hers, and hers to keep, and live openly with that acknowledgment. )

[ he wants: this. more. a forest to call home. solas' plans to unfurl faster. the after this. he has never wanted that, had this odd anticipation for time to pass faster, and yet, now, here it is. ]

Then we will have it. And I will make it as bearable as possible for you.

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