The Princess and the Blade

[Soran Nightblade]

Havitharon nodded, removing his hands from her as soon as she was securely seated. He looked at the wilderness around them. "Understood. Give me a few minutes to locate a shelter. I'll return for you soon.

[Emora Deen]

"I..." Tenara looked around. "I know where we are. I think. If..." It was honestly hard to tell now that she'd leveled the area. "There should be a lake, and a house... A little farm. Maybe that way..." She groaned, standing. "It's too far to go on your own. The sword won't let you reach it. I can go with you. I can walk. I'll make it." She wasn't certain she could, but she would try.

[Soran Nightblade]

He nodded again, and gave her room to stand. He kept more distance between them than he had as of late, although his gold eyes followed her movements closely. "If you feel unsteady, say so.

[Emora Deen]

Tenara nodded, but pursed her lips. She didn't want to be a burden. She already felt like one. She was dangerous. Uncontrollable. Maybe they were right to lock her magic away all those years ago... She thought of Rami and felt a flash of dizzying rage.

As they went on, it was hard to tell if her unsteady walking was due to weariness or the fact she'd mowed down hundreds of trees. She stumbled, tripped, caught herself on limbs and logs. She was exhausted. She should be out like a light, but she wasn't. Maybe it was anger driving her forward. Maybe it was sorrow. She couldn't tell.

Eventually the rain stopped. She was soaked, her dress heavy around her legs. It caught on jagged limbs and thorns as they went. "I'm a blast to be around," she said, and she hadn't meant it to be a joke, but it did sound like one. "We're always having these unfortunate adventures..." She tripped over a downed tree and flopped head first into the limb-laden ground on the other side.

[Soran Nightblade]

Havi dropped smoothly to a crouch beside her. "Get on my back," he instructed firmly, if a little coldly. One gold eye looked back at her over his shoulder.

[Emora Deen]

Tenara frowned at him. Eventually she sighed, gave a nod. She made sure the sword was tucked back into the scabbard at her waist, and shifted so that her chest pressed along his back. Her arms twined around his neck, and her legs around his waist. She rested there. "I'm sorry," she said again, the weight of her burden growing heavier. "It's that way. Should be another few minutes."

It was a small cabin, a little farm by a lake that her family had passed several years ago while journeying through a kingdom north of Hajara to attend a wedding. They'd camped in the field she'd demolished, but then it had been green and beautiful and perfect for the group her family traveled with. She'd wandered away and found it. Met with an elderly couple who'd given her tea and showed her their chickens... She hoped it was still there, even if the elderly couple weren't.

[Soran Nightblade]

Havitharon shifted her weight until she felt centered behind him. His hands looped firmly under her knees, bunching in the wet fabric of her dress. "Hold on," he instructed her, though she seemed to be doing a plenty good job at that. He tried not to think about her damp warmth wrapped against his back and waist. He wasn't sure if it was making him worried or excited, and both thoughts made him angry enough to hit something. How foolish could he be? He ground his teeth and continued in the direction she'd indicated.

[Emora Deen]

On this side of the world it was dark, with the edges of morning creeping along the horizon. They came to the lake first, and Tenara instructed him to follow the shore. Eventually, they came to the house. It was marked by an overgrown garden and yard. The chicken coup she remembered was broken, the little fence around it torn open by some sort of predator. The chickens themselves weren't all dead. A few of them clucked angrily as they approached and disturbed their resting place. A goat jumped up from the thick grass, trotting nervously away.

The cabin was dark. Empty. The front door had been torn off. It lay in the yard, just before the steps leading onto the porch. Heavy claw marks marred the porch floor and along the edges of the door frame. Something monstrous and terrible had befallen the couple who had lived here. She hoped whatever it was had left.

"I can... I can walk now. Thank you," she whispered to Havitharon, her breath fanning the side of his neck.

[Soran Nightblade]

Havi analyzed the settlement she'd led them to, taking in the damaged structures and signs of attack. He crouched slowly and let Tenara ease off of him. She seemed to be in no shape to respond to trouble. "I will check inside," he said, stepping up the front entryway and through the ruined doorframe. Inside, he found some signs of struggle, but no bodies. An spoiled, uneaten pie on the kitchen counter suggested the house had been vacant perhaps a few weeks, but no longer. He wondered what kind of creatures lived in this world to cause such damage. In his world, he could think of three or four potential species capable of something like this.

After confirming whatever had been here was now gone, he returned to the front door. "It is clear," he informed her.

[Emora Deen]

Tenara stepped up onto the porch, her steps heavy and slow as she went. She ran her hand along the door frame as she entered, frowning at state of the interior. She hoped they'd gotten away from whatever had attacked them.

It was a one-room cabin. The space was comfortable in size—large enough to fit a bed and dresser, with a small sitting area boasting two armchairs, and a little kitchen with a dining table.

"I'll build a fire," she said, going to the stone hearth at the center of the home and dropping to her knees. She clumsily tossed some kindling and logs over the ash and coals already in the fireplace. Her movements were sluggish. Heavy. But, in a few minutes she had a small fire going—enough to light the space with warmth and heat. She shivered in the soaked dress, resisting the urge to peel the fabric off and wrap herself in the quilt lying on the bed next to her. They could likely borrow the old couple’s clothes. Though she remembered the man to be tall, she doubted his pants would fit Havitharon properly...

She glanced at him, appraising. He seemed... angry. Maybe? She couldn't tell. "You must be so confused..." She lifted her hands holding them out to the heat of the fire. "I... don't know how to explain.”

[Soran Nightblade]

Havitharon watched the fire dully. "I don't need you to explain."

Confused? Him? Not particularly. Ever since they'd encountered Tenara's whore, since he'd accepted what he was hearing as they fought, he'd felt more like himself than he had in weeks.

So why wasn't he happy about it? So what if he was done having childish fantasies? So what if this world was no better than the one he'd left? Life was life. Only a fool would sit around moaning about it.

He stood near her by the fire and watched the flames. "Does it need to be that hot?" he asked, genuinely curious how she could tolerate such heat. He was quite resilient to such things, and his skin felt a bit like someone was taking a potato brush to a sunburn. He took a few steps back from the seemingly small fire and looked down at his forearms. His silvery skin looked perfectly normal.

[Emora Deen]

She frowned. He didn’t need her to explain but that didn’t rid her of the desire to…

She glanced to the fire. It was small, growing larger at an even pace. The air wasn’t cold, but it was damp and she was cold only because her clothes were drenched. The fire wasn’t abnormal…

Maybe he was irritated at her, and not sure how to express it. Maybe he did want an explanation, but didn’t know how to ask.

“The man—Rami—was not himself. Not the man I knew. We…” How could she explain… “We were lovers. He… his profession was working at the Indigo House. We did meet there, firstly but that isn’t why we were together… Are you alright?”

[Soran Nightblade]

His gaze frosted over as he stopped his preoccupation with his arms and looked at her. "Profession," he scoffed. "You have such a lovely way of describing these things here, I was almost fooled." Anger and betrayal began simmering in his chest. "If he was truly doing what he wanted, he would not have had to strike such a dangerous deal to earn his freedom. He was not there by choice, no matter how poetic you may wax about your time together. It is impossible to be willing and a slave at once." His chest and eyes burned now, as much as his skin. "And you, who have known nothing but freedom and privilege, thought to punish him by destroying him along with half the city?"

[Emora Deen]

Tenara flinched as if he’d punched her in the stomach. She felt heat burn her cheeks and tears sting her eyes. “He wasn’t a slave! It was a job. He interviewed, was hired, was paid. I didn’t want him to work there. I tried to get him to leave, and nothing I offered was good enough, short of giving him a crown, I suppose.” Because that was it, wasn’t it? That had to be…

She glowered at Havitharon. “This isn’t your world! He wasn’t forced into anything.” Had Rami said something to him? Did it really seem that awful? Was she that awful? That broken?

She hadn’t meant to let her magic grow so big, but it had fed on her rage and pain—on the knowledge that Rami was the reason she’d been abused. It wouldn’t matter what she said to justify it, either. Havitharon wouldn’t believe her. He didn’t trust her—any woman, she suspected. He was so damaged he couldn’t believe there was a world where people enjoyed pleasure so much they got paid to give it or that a man could harm a woman for money.

She stood, legs trembling. "Of course. Of course, choose him. Believe him—the man you've known not but a second! Not the woman. Gods forbid you believe the woman who has bled for you and defended you and been only ever kind to you. Do you hate females so much? That you can't even see there is a difference between me and the ones of your world? You can't see me, can you?" She scoffed, shaking her head. Her hands trembled at her sides, fisting and unclenching.

She wanted to clamp her mouth shut, to flee before the next words spilled out of her, but they tumbled out before her weary legs could outrun her lips. “He gave me to monsters.” The words rumbled out of her, cracked and mangled with emotion—breaking as her heart broke. "And they drugged me and starved me and raped m—" She sucked in a sharp breath as if someone had rammed their sword into her. Wide, shocked eyes found him, the admission hanging in the air. A bell she couldn't unring.

She wanted the words back, back where she could hide them away from everyone, including herself. Back where they were buried behind blurred, drugged memories and Elias's tea—all specters and speculations. Not here, out in the open, where a man who hated women could relish in the pain of them.

She averted her eyes, afraid to look at him, afraid to see the joy. Tenara's heart was soft—too soft, she was often told—too kind and forgiving, and part of her didn't want to believe that Havitharon was so cruel. But, if she looked up and found he took pleasure in her agony—in this terrible, buried, half-acknowledged secret—she would well and truly break under it.

“We need more firewood,” she whispered, and left through the broken door. She moved so quickly the world wobbled and her knees shook.

[Soran Nightblade]

Her words froze him still. He stared at her disappearing form like something had grabbed him by the scruff and shaken him. Was there something wrong with the translation spell? Did she really say what he'd just heard?

The words were so unexpected that it took several seconds to really acknowledge them. A cold pit formed in the bottom of his stomach. Why would she go get more firewood right now? The cottage felt about to burn down as it was. What was she going to do?

Alarm finally spurred him into action as he took off to follow the way she'd gone.