The Princess and the Blade

[Emora Deen]

Tenara dreamed of agony. Of circles of light and unseen fire. She dreamed of chanting and faces with brands of blinding light. It seemed so real, and she forgot about killing the clerics. About the building collapsing. She dreamed murderous priests burned her father and used the flames to melt Havitharon’s sword. They hammered it on a glowing anvil, and each clash sent a shrill wail of pain from the alien. Each blow distorted the metal, and, when the sword was a crumpled ruin, so was he.

Tenara came awake with a choked sob. The room was mostly dark, save for threads of pale moonlight dappling the floor, diffused by the sheer curtains over doorless openings.

Sweat slicked her body, making her silk dress cling like a second skin. She panicked, trying to understand where she was or how she’d gotten there, still too out of it to understand that she was safe and in her room and that Havitharon was the shadowed shape at the edge of her bed.

[Soran Nightblade]

Havi's spine jerked straight at the sound of Tenara's sob. He reached for hand and clasped it tightly. "Tenara. You are safe," he said urgently.

[Emora Deen]

Tenara clutched his hand, still a bit bewildered by where they were, and holding his hand didn’t seem like enough grounding. She had just seen him mangled. It had been a dream, but she still felt her heart ache at the sight.

Tenara shifted, crawling until she pulled herself into his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. She didn’t think about whether it would make him uncomfortable. She just wanted to hold him and know that he was okay—that they were okay.

Safe.

Then, she remembered the sword. It was damaged. She shouldn’t be in his lap. “I’m sorry… Your leg…”

[Soran Nightblade]

Havi's arms found their way around her a bit stiffly as he adjusted to her new position. The way she climbed straight into his lap made his stomach do a flip. He had waited so long for her to wake, and now he was torn between concern and relief. "My leg is healed. Your condition is more important, he said, sifting his fingers through her silver hair .

[Emora Deen]

She burrowed against him, the whole affair a sour taste in her mouth. She’d done something foolish, and it had resulted in so much chaos. How was he healed? Her mother? It had to be her mother…

Exhaustion clung to her. She still felt the sting of holy magic against her nerves. “I’m fine,” she whispered. “I’ll be fine as long as you’re okay. As long as my family is okay.” She drew back and cupped his face in her hands. “I won’t do that again. I won’t.” She wasn’t sure what she was apologizing for exactly—leaving the palace, getting carted away by opportunistic zealots, or for assaulting him while he was trying to hold an entire building on his back. Her cheeks burned at the memory, a flutter of abject horror coursing through her.

[Soran Nightblade]

Havi stared at her, dazed by her gentle grip on his face. ".. Your parents are safe. Tenara, you did nothing wrong." He observed the flush in her cheeks with growing concern. "Are you in pain?"

[Emora Deen]

They were all safe… The fearful tension subsided. She melted into him.

She was in pain, but there was nothing he could do about it. Her nerves felt scorched. Tenara shook her head, though it was a lie, and she immediately regretted it. What did it matter to hide it? She subtle shake of her head clumsily turned into nod as she changed her mind. “I am, but it’s alright. It feels better here, with you.” It did, strangely, feel better to be held than not, as if the pressure of his touch was a soothing balm.

“I meant…” She bit her lip. “I am sorry for losing my head. For trying to… when you were… I don’t want to be the women on your world. I’d take all the pain to keep from being that.”

[Soran Nightblade]

Havi's arms curled closer around her, no longer stiff or hesitant. He leaned his face into her palm like a big cat. The memory of their time spent under the rubble came rushing back, of her hands around him, pulling away his clothes, of his skin sliding against hers. He huffed an unconscious breath between her fingers. "You did not hurt me", he said, a bit breathily. "You nearly tempted me into letting it all fall, though," he said as if reminiscing on a date and not a near-death experience.

[Emora Deen]

Tenara chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to his temple. There was a strange mix of horror and pride at knowing he had wanted her enough to drop a building on them, if it came to it.

She pulled him, leaning sideways as she did until she tugged him down into the bed with her. She tangled herself around him, a leg curling over his waist, arms still locked around his neck. “In the morning, I will feel better,” she told him, murmuring it against the skin of his neck. “And then we shall see if I can tempt you into harmless destruction.”

[Soran Nightblade]

Havi cooperated and rolled with her into the mattress. Her arms and legs closed around his larger form. The territorial gesture excited his instincts, and his body throbbed with the reflex to give in to her. Her warning about what she'd do to him when she woke up only increased his body's reaction. He pressed his now-very-alert body tight against her, reveling in her claiming of him. "Yes. When you are better," he consented, his fingers circling on her back to the extent her grip allowed.

[Emora Deen]

Tenara’s mother came in early that morning and found them tangled together. It appeared her daughter had the alien in a chokehold. She didn’t wake them, and left shortly after.

A maid came later and delivered a tray of food and water to a table near the balcony curtains.

Tenara didn’t wake again until late morning, and she didn’t have another bad dream. As usual, Havitharon’s presence seemed to reassure her, even when she was sleeping, that she was safe.

She blinked her eyes open, nuzzling her face sleepily into the warm crook of his neck. As she grew more awake, she was more aware of things she hadn’t noticed the night before—the stiffness of her skin, so coated in dust and blood, and the grit in her hair. She needed a bath.

Tenara went to untangle herself from Havitharon, and winced at the lingering sting in her joints. It wasn’t so bad, she thought. It had felt worst beneath the rubble.

She moved to the edge of the bed, resting her feet on the floor before she tried to stand and test her balance.

[Soran Nightblade]

Havitharon's eyes drifted open after his body noticed the sudden coolness where she had previously been warm against him. He'd been so far out that for a few moments, his brain had to regather evidence of where he was, and why. He remembered the danger and the injuries of the day before, and recalled falling asleep without a care while her fierce grip claimed him.

He perked up when he noticed her climbing to her feet. "How do you feel?"

[Emora Deen]

“Dirty,” she said, hesitating a second more before she stood. Her knees immediately buckled her back onto the bed. She flopped back, her head coming to rest on his belly, silver hair spilling over him in a silky wash. She stared at the ceiling, stretching her arms out and feeling a dull ache. A hot soak would help, she thought.

She had used a lot of magic… after having her soul partially excised. While her spirit was willing, her limbs weren’t.

She rolled her face towards him, blue eyes glittering. “I want a bath. And tea. And you.”

[Soran Nightblade]

Havitharon rested his palms lightly on her shoulders. Her behavior had him concerned, and yet he found himself strangely pleased by her small weight resting against him. He shook his head unintentionally. He'd never felt pulled to a female like this before. It was like he'd gone mad.

"It may be safest if you stay still. If you want to bathe, I will go draw the water, he told her. His thumbs brushed small ovals on her skin where his hands rested.

[Emora Deen]

Tenara enjoyed the feel of his gentle touch, but frowned at the idea of him getting out of bed. "Didn't you hold up an entire building yesterday?" she said softly, sitting up slowly and pushing the covers away from the blade. Her eyes widened as she pulled it towards her, noticing it wasn't dented as it had been. Was that how he'd been healed? Had her mother done that? She ran her finger along the steel. "Your leg is better... but how are you really feeling?" She cupped his face gently. "I could call a maid. They could draw the bath for us."