The heaviness of the silence was corroding his patience. He slipped under the covers and stared at the ceiling while Iris finished bathing herself. The sound of water trickling on the stone floor made him lower his gaze to look at her as she wrapped herself in a towel and padded across the floor to the dresser. The nightgown slipped over the towel and shortly pooled on the floor at her feet. Gliding across the floor towards the bed, Iris glanced at the moon, rising over the hill.
Peeking from under the gown the mark, that had caught his eye so many times and never dared to ask about, called to him more than it usually did.
" The mark," He took a silent breath, when she heaved a heartfelt sigh," Tell me about it...Tell me the story...Tell me your story," His shaking hand hovered over the mark, tempted to trace its lines and its intricate patterns.
" I don't want to remember," She whispered, " I'm trying to forget," She tugged on the covers, hugging them tighter to her chest.
A whispered plea from him made her turn her head to look at him. Her gaze roamed on his features, searching for an answer as to why he even wanted to know. Another plea was made, and she closed her eyes and turned her head away from him. Nothing came, and silence reigned over them, over the room and the entirety of Hessia.
" It's the mark of my people," She began in a quiet voice," A bond, a covenant between our bloodline and the source of our powers," A pause to take drawn out breath in," A brand, a curse, a key and a lock, a string that ties us all together," A shuddering breath, " None left now," Her voice cracked. It was heartbreaking to watch and hear. He couldn't imagine how it would feel if he'd lost everyone. Dakran, Edýia, Sala, Maras, Caell, Eisza, and all the others. Even Haren. To be utterly alone.
" It all began when I became the Guardian of Ellora." He let his hand touch her shoulder to let her know that he was still awake and listening.
Between strangled sobs and shuddering breath, she told her story about the witch, Ettrick, how she and Ian had crossed paths. Rom hunting her like a prized, rare animal, doing the witch's biding with the promise of liberating those she'd ensared with her spells. How they stumbled on Athan, Tyla, Rhya, and their betrayal. Sylus's death, Dakran, Haren, and Edýia. The Shaddow Valley oddisey, and then Ellora, and what Lund, her supposed father had done. About Gaelin, and somehow, he saw his own reflection in the description of him. He wasn't any different than the man she was promised to and ran away from. He felt dirty. He let out a shaky sigh and inched closer to her, lacing his fingers with hers as she continued speaking, of how she'd crossed into the Hollow with Ians help, and had to leave him, because she didn't belong in it. And then how she went to Shaddow Valley with renewed purpose. In a desperate attempt to aid Edýia. The last bastion. That could tip the scales in favour when they would have to go against the shikari in one final battle. A vessel for the goddess itself that birthed the realm they were living in.
Tear after tear fell on their joined hands, and he moved again and hugged her to his chest in attempted to stop the shaking and the strangled sobs. She broke in his arms, weeping as if him hugging her was the last push to send her over the edge that she had been balancing on for only gods knew how long.
When he opened his eyes, dawn cracked over Hessia, and the sobs subsided, her breathing became shallow. She'd cried herself to sleep in his arms.
A promise to shoulder the weight of failures and pain whispered in her ear, a soft kiss on her cheek before he'd go to sleep. He'd been cruel. Sometimes we have to be cruel, in order to be kind.
The ages tainted with nothing but bloodshed, on the cusp of survival, had chipped away, corroded his humanity. A stark realisation as darkness succumbed to light.
His eyes fell once more on the mark on her shoulder. Once in while its patterns moved, shifted, changed, as if it was alive somehow. Later, he told himself. I'll tell her later, all about it. For now, it was time to lick the wounds and heal. He'd would gladly do it for her, but it wouldn't do her any good. All he could was sit and watch her over her. Make amends for what he'd done. Attone, for his actions. He was no better than the others that had betrayed, stole from her. He'd steal back everything they took. If only he could.
In the meantime, he'd settle to give back what he took.
Time flew as he lost himself in his thoughts without even noticing that she was awake. Her turning his arms dragged him back from the depths of his mind. Now, what?
They were facing each other, and he was at a loss for words. More and more, he found himself speechless in her presence.
A kiss on the forehead would say all that he couldn't. I'm here, if you want me, need me.
He let his lips linger longer on her forehead as she took a shuddering breath, and he felt the need to hug her into his chest. Hopefully, comforting enough to assuage some of the horrors she'd lived through.
No darkness could ever dim the light in her eyes, he thought as he pulled away and locked eyes with her when she looked up at him. Possibly, wondering what he was doing.
He pressed his forehead on hers, trying to think of something to say. How to move forward from there. She didn't pull away nor rejected his touch. She hadn't done so since the incident in the forest.
" Corvin," a sussursur , " Anger and pain are all I have left. What keeps me going, " She closed her eyes and squeezed his hand.
A smile crept up on him, more of gratitude than anything else," You need a ear. I have two. Efficient," All she said hasn't gone over his head. I couldn't have, not even if he tried.
A stifled giggle, a sound that he'd never heard coming from her. It sounded like glasses clinking in his ear. Clear, pure.
" Why are you being nice to me?" She tipped her head back to gather his reaction to the question.
Only one way out," There are only two reasons people are nice to each other," He smirked, " Food and a chance at the possibility of sexual favours," And there it was, the glare had returned in full force, as she pulled away from his arms, and slapped him. Corvin sighed, rubbing his cheek to soothe the sting of her slap. Poor choice of words and timing.