rowancrowned | fade rift ✧ inbox

( 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.

It'd have been better if I were still a Vauquelin, ( more clinical than regretful; matter of fact. ) A stronger message.

( it's going to work against them that she's not—gift-wrapped ammunition for those who will find flaws. elfblooded disgrace makes mockery of chantry with sure-he's-not-a-demon.

but not everyone will see it that way. it'd just have been easier, if she were harder to dismiss. then: ) But then we'd have needed Celene's permission as well. I don't know if we'd have got it.

Perhaps, [ he admits. ] It may have been in exchange for something else, like your father's assent on a policy, or even the title.

[ that could have worked out well. as much as he would have prefered their children to take the title of comte or comtesse (when he had considered such things) it never would have mattered for long. ]

Are you content with this as it is?

Edited 2018-08-07 01:53 (UTC)

Why try to leverage him when this is for the Inquisition's sake?

( cynical, but perhaps not wrong. and maybe, if she still held a title and the significance of the concession would be so much more distinct, the inquisition might have deemed it worth whatever celene thought she could get out of them in exchange for her support—

they might not have. and it might not have happened at all. round and round and round we go... )

—what do you mean?

[ he shrugs elegantly. 'just because' or 'the man tried to murder me, and he owes me for making me bleed my own blood' which are the same thing. ]

Is there aught you would have done differently?

( leaving aside the unlikeliness of celene wasting her time on emeric if she could leverage directly the much more significant inquisition, and the higher likelihood of emeric blocking the bid and refusing to give anyone anything on principle were he involved in it so directly, she shifts somewhat uneasily to the space beside him, unsettled by the question and unable to quite put her finger on why.

is he not happy?

stupid question. it's not been a good month; neither of them are happy. )

Moved in here sooner, ( is all she can think of. and in case he'd imagined any intention on her part to decamp to hightown; guilfoyle is there, overseeing the packing of her belongings even now. )

It is good, [ he says, ] to only regret something so small.

[ the dust of the road has been washed off, she is here. these are not small gifts. ]

Will you stay?

Indefinitely, ( both pert and affectionate, relaxing back into the side of him by increments.

then: )

I don't know what else I'd regret. How else would this have worked?

( it's hard to picture. )

[ he smiles against the back of her head, where she cannot see but can feel the pleased curl of his lips. ]

Perhaps we would have been caught. Perhaps circumstance would have forced you into your title and I would have only been your 'special friend'. Perhaps Iorveth might have tumbled from a rift first. There are infinite possibilities, but I am satisfied with this one.

Our moment.

( a hundred moments, and this one; the way that it has played out, but it hasn't played out, they've not ended up anywhere, they're still...happening. going. doing. love as verb. the stillness is comforting, but most of all in counterpoint—how far they've come. how far they've still to go.

with iorveth, hopefully. but the two of them, always.

archly: )

It'll do. You know—

That's what you wanted, wasn't it? What you said. Just quietly move in and make no fuss about it.

I am not attending the Arlathvhen because I expected to be shunned by all the Dalish for... no longer being discreet in regards to you. Although, [ he shrugs. ] I suppose they cannot blame me when their own children have taken up en masse with Men here.

Perhaps I will still have their love. They all know where my loyalties lie.

Maybe you've more rope with them than you thought. Or, well, there is that.

( to wit: fuck the dalish, they certainly all seem to be gagging for it. )

Do we even have any Dalish here with a leg to stand on, criticizing your choice of lovers?

Enough to hang myself with, [ dryly. he holds her tightly as he leans back, coming to lay down on the bed, turning on his side and minding her so that the two of them end up still curled against one another. ]

Beleth, [ he says. ] Sorrelean. Nahariel.

[ his favorites, clearly. ]

Nahariel, ( thoughtfully. ) Are you sure about that one?

( patented gwenaëlle 'i might know something you don't' baudin mock superiority tone. )

[ he answers it only with sadness. ]

Then the clan will die out, for there will be no elflings. All the elves of that generations will have left, or taken lovers that will lead to only elfblooded children.

Edited 2018-08-19 00:34 (UTC)

You mean what happened to my family.

( it is the best of all possible answers to that, of the things she might have said, which doesn't make it a good answer or a conversation useful to have. she extricates herself from his arms with a half-hearted pat of his shoulder that isn't entirely without sympathy, but—

that's a hard thing to muster sympathy for. she should unpack. or start cleaning up these flowers, since one of them actually has to sleep in this room while he's away. )

I distinctly remember your sisters being murdered, else your hatred of Celene is horridly misplaced, l[ ightly, forcing himself into good cheer. ] rather than what I expect is namely teenage rebellion. The shine will wear off, and then what? The Inquisition will not be around forever, and vallaslin is permanent.

I don't think you should be so dismissive,

( after a moment's pause, sweeping an armload of flowers from their places, )

Nahariel didn't sound to me like someone in the throes of rebellion. Unless, of course, you intend to say that feelings for humans are naturally less and like to fade.

( in all fairness: if she believed he might mean that, she'd never say it out loud. this is a fishing expedition for affection. )

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