Embers to Ashes

[Elyna]

57th Ashan 717

The last of their guests had drifted out and Elyna was grateful that when the new dawn crept over the horizon, she would not be summoned to work. A rare day off with Malcolm beckoned. She hoped at least. Certain the man wasn’t yet required to return to the Knights or his classes at the University but wondering if he would chose to be absent the next day. Her hands sunk into warm water as she watched his shadow beyond the window. The last of the dishes had been soaking and the suds slipped over her fingers. The cloth, bunched tight worked hard to remove the stubborn stains and clinging food. The candles behind her were dimmed and the door fastened. But out in the garden, Malcolm sat beneath the stars with his back to her and long legs stretched towards the pyre. Elsie curled up against his chest, her auburn hair just visible above his shoulder.
The table had been cleared and scrubbed down, with thanks to some of their guests and Belinda in particular. Elyna hoped the mother of twins had enjoyed herself, for all it had been mostly a gathering of nobility, the military and what felt like a collection of smiths. The silence had returned without warning, deafening. Spreading like a sickness through her body, it had started as a small knot of feverish anxiety, but now she could feel it weaving through her veins. Surely that had come too far, to throw everything away again? It was out of her hands. Her choices and weakness mocked her from the dark corners of the unfamiliar room. It wasn’t to her to decide if her most recent transgression could be forgiven. The mortalborn son of Vri was her judge and her jury. She had betrayed his trust, again. With only herself to blame.
Elyna set the plate to the side and dried her hands on a towel. She twisted the fabric in her grip before that too was set aside. The young woman collected a blanket that had been cast aside and ventured into the cool night air. Any heat from the day had been trapped by low clouds that broke to show starlight. The fire was burning lower but it was still warm close to the flames. The noblewoman sat down on the chair beside Malcolm and wordlessly offered him the blanket for Elsie. The toddler was fast asleep, snoring. Since the man had struck their guest, she’d found it hard to meet his gaze directly. Throughout the evening, she’d wanted to fold herself against him and take comfort in his arms, or in the simple touch of his hand in hers. Afraid once more, to reach out towards him and be rejected. Loneliness was quick to return and she shivered, folding her hands together and holding them between her knees.
“Malcolm, I’m sorry.” What else could she say?

[Malcolm]

It hadn't taken long for Elsie to fall asleep in the man's arms, spread across his chest like a starfish, her little arms hung over his shoulders, hands limp. Malcolm had helped with the clean up before settling down in front of the fire. After singing to Elsie for a short time, something soft and smoothing, the girl had drifted off and was now lost to the world.
He loved nothing more, Malcolm had decided, than spending time with his daughter, especially now when she was just starting to make sense of the world and forming relationships with those closest to her. He hoped Vaughn would accept her as a sister, but wouldn't hold his breath. Malcolm knew he was asking a lot of his son, taking into account everything that had happened with Vanessa, and all Vaughn had been through in the last few seasons.
Soon he was joined outside by Elyna, who had stalked towards him quietly and taken a seat. Throughout the dinner he had said little more than a handful of words to her, and didn't know what he wanted to say now. It was easy to feel mad or disappointed, even frustrated, and easier still to blame Elyna for his own decisions. Every time he thought about telling her the truth, however, his stomach would do a flip, and he felt as if he were going to throw up. The thought of that night and his actions made him feel sick, made him feel as if he were a stranger in his own skin, and he could draw no satisfaction from the memory.
“It was just a kiss,” he said, as if to say it was already forgiven, and perhaps it was, after all, a kiss was nothing in comparison.
How long would he torture himself? What hurt the most was that he believed Elyna had an emotional connection with Vakhanor she sought to explore physically, while his decision had been of the body and not of the mind.
Decision, not mistake.
He reminded himself that he had chosen to sleep with Kes’trel. It hadn't been a mistake or a desire, it had been a choice. He had chosen to make love to a stranger, as if this would somehow ease his own pain, and fill the void, when in reality it had only inflicted more suffering.
His insides tightened around the rocks, the stones of guilt in his belly he carried with him wherever he went. He lived with the lie, protecting the secret by refusing to utter a word about it, despising the lie, and hating himself.
“I was only a kiss…” he said again, if only he believed it.

[Elyna]

Silence broken by the crackle of the fire against the dark sky. Elyna sank down in her chair and wrapped the blanket around her own shoulders. She propped her legs onto a log that circled the fire and waited. Heart heavy and skin tingling. Malcolm spoke, his voice coarse and she sank a little further, blinking in the firelight. She wanted to wrap her arms around Elsie and hide behind the child, but that wouldn’t be fair. Only a kiss, he said again as though he was trying to convince himself, or her.
“He shouldn’t have been the one to tell you,” she put her feet down again and sat forward, extending a hand towards the flame in a reckless gesture, uneasy and unable to sit still. “He…he saved my life.” She couldn’t look around at Malcolm any longer. “I woke up…chained to a bench in a cellar,” her voice was tight with disgust, nose wrinkled at the memory. “They sent him to…” how a Smith, her friend ended up as a torturer for an underground group, she didn’t know and she hadn’t asked. Hadn’t wanted to ask, although she probably should have. “He saved my life,” she rested a hand on the bump, eternally grateful for both of their chances at freedom. Then the young woman swallowed.
“Mal, he frightens me,” Vakhanor was temperamental. Fire encouraged by a fierce wind in her company. Her breath stolen from her lungs not by desire, but fear. “If I don’t keep him with me, if I don’t hang onto him then…then I don’t think he would be here any longer.” It was a poor attempt to justify her actions and she slumped, studying her fingers and the crease of the heart line in her hand. Malcolm’s turmoil, she would never expect and so didn’t understand. There was no recrimination for the punch, nor any pleading for forgiveness. It would be granted or it would not.

[Malcolm]

“Then I owe the man a great deal,” Malcolm said, his tone flat. He had meant the words, but that Elyna had tried to justify her actions sickened him further.
“Would you have told me?” he asked, wondering if she would answer with honesty or another lie.
Did it matter?
Was he trying to justify holding onto his own secret? And in telling her now, would he do more damage than good?
Malcolm accepted the blanket and covered Elsie, the small child stirring in his arms as he peeled them away from her for but a moment to cover her with the blanket. She drew in a heavy suck of air and stretched, only to relax again, settled once more against her father.
“Don't answer that,” he said, sure now that he didn't want to know. It wasn't important, the only thing that mattered was that they were both alive and together, even if just for their daughter and unborn child.
Malcolm reached for Elyna’s hand with his free hand and squeezed her fingers. “I love you,” he told her, “but I will never rule you, no one ever should.” She was too wild and free, and he should be thankful for the false sense of bliss they had shared, the cosy little life they had made for themselves; a comfortable lie neither one of them could maintain.
Elyna wanted to travel, ride dragons and save the world, while Malcolm's dreams didn't venture far beyond the warm little soul on his arms, and the walls of his home. Work was a necessity that allowed him to live in comfort, and raise children that didn't have to beg on the streets for scraps of bread and loose change.
“If you love the smith, or if it is curiosity that drives you, take what you need, do what you must… just come home to me.”
You are my home, he thought.

[Elyna]

Malcolm denied her the chance to answer his question and she fell silent. Would he always do that? Ask the most important things then refuse her the space to reply? It was how he had proposed after all, an impulsive question, let us marry, before a shake of the head and a command to forget the suggestion. Did he realise how he played with her heart in those moments? In previous seasons she’d held her answers back as commanded but he reached out and her fingers trembled in his gentle grip.
“Yes,” she replied, “I would have told you. I just -I forgot I suppose. I’m so grateful that you’re here and alive, Malcolm. Everything is pale in comparison and there is only you. When I saw Vakh, tonight I…it was too late.” Another apology and another helpless explanation. She felt as though she was trying to run on water, failing to find land and wondering when the world was going to fall out from beneath her. Elsie settled against his chest and she squeezed his fingers in turn, before her heart stopped.
“No,” it was a whisper and her hand pulled free of his grasp. “I’ve made mistakes, Mal but...that’s not how love works. How can you - you t-think,” panic caused the words to cease. What was he suggesting? That she take what she needed? Sickness pulled at her like a lead weight, poison sinking through her limbs. Stunned into silence she simply stared. All of the closeness that had existed and bound them together, all the peace was shattered. He could have been across an ocean as she stared at him and wondered where her lover had gone.

[Malcolm]

She had forgotten, forgotten that she had betrayed his trust after promising there was nothing there. How many more times would she be tempted, and why couldn't he forget? Why was it so easy for her?
Elyna pulled her hand away, and instantly he knew, in trying to be open and understanding, accepting even, he had hurt her; he was so good at hurting her.
Malcolm didn't say anymore as the sick feeling crept up his throat and sat on the back of his tongue. He stared at the flames, and for a moment, lost himself. The silence ate at him, though, and soon it was too much.
On his feet, Malcolm chose to go inside and put Elsie down after venturing upstairs. Her room was tidy, but that never lasted long, and he knew by morning she will have pulled everything out again. He hunted for her favourite soft toy and tucked it under the blanket beside her, stroking the hair away from her eyes.
Malcolm went downstairs to the bathroom and washed his face with cold water, rinsing his mouth out and brushing his teeth to try and escape that feeling of emptiness, and the heat that spread across his chest and up his neck to hide behind his ears.
It happened all of the sudden, so quickly in fact, that he had almost missed toilet and thrown up on the floor. Too much wine, that's what he would tell her, he had drunk too much wine, but Malcolm hadn't touched a drop all night. Another wave struck and he found himself knelt over the toilet, pushing his hair back from his face. If was a shame to waste such a lovely meal, but he just couldn't keep it down.
Ill and feeling a little sorry for himself, Malcolm returned to the sink to wash out his mouth and brush his teeth again, and found himself staring at the stranger in the mirror.
Pathetic, weak, coward. His thoughts were angry and loud.
You make me sick.

[Elyna]

He left her alone again. First the unending quiet. She scrambled for words, but no apology of explanation seemed to make anything better; only worse. So she held her tongue. After so few days of blissful reunion, she wasn’t ready to give it up. It wasn’t her choice though. She’d behaved badly and this was to be her punishment. Exile in her own house and back to her own mind. Loneliness was always quick to return. A faithful friend as he stood and retreated to the house. No tears. There was nothing left to cry, as all her agony had been spent in his loss. So she remained still, numb and waiting for the spell to break or shatter and set her free again.
It was an unusual sound that finally stirred her. The woman stood, folded the blanket neatly and returned to the house after kicking the fire to embers. Spreading it out so that it would dim and fade. She didn’t want to return to the house and accept the silence. At the door, she heard it again. Sickness? She frowned, Elsie had been fast asleep, Malcolm would have noticed if she was ill. The young woman set the blanket back on the side and poured a glass of water, approaching the bathroom door.
“Mal?” She hesitated at the entrance before pushing the portal open, peering at him. “Mal, are you alright?” She offered the drink, leaning against the doorway and not venturing closer, unwilling to crowd him. A new fear struck, had the dinner been cooked well enough? She wondered briefly if they’d sent all their guests home with a case of poisoning…

[Malcolm]

Malcolm dried his face with the hand towel and accepted the glass to take a drink. It's just the wine, he rehearsed in his head, but the words that jumped off his tongue were completely different.
“Come, we need to talk.”
He stalked out into the kitchen, put the empty glass in the sink, and leaned back against the counter.
“During the time that I was captured, there were a couple of attempts made to escape, not all of them successful,” he admitted.
Malcolm shit his eyes, but the knot that had formed at the centre of his brow refused to soften, and made him seem thoughtful, far away, perhaps as far away as the Burning Mountains.
“A boy died because of me,” he recalled how young and frightened the slave boy had been, how he had given him the taste of wholeness once more in granting the return of his missing hand, only for him to be stripped of his life the following day.
Guilt, hot and heavy, seemed determined to burn a hole in his belly. “I had searched for you,” he spoke regarding his ability, though he wasn't sure if Elyna remembered it, “but often it is you who finds me.” Malcolm looked his lover in the eyes. I was was so angry with you, he thought, he had hurt Elyna enough for one lifetime.
He felt like a wolf about to rip her heart out. The sickness returned, the sickness and the guilt. No, he couldn't tell her, he shouldn't tell her.
Malcolm took Elyna’s hand and held it against his chest. His own heart was racing, adrenaline running rife in his form. “Elsie,” he said, reaching out with his ability, and his heart rate slowed considerably under the woman’s touch, to that of the sleeping child. Her heartbeat was perfect, unlike it had been in Elyna’s belly before he had taken the defect all those seasons ago.
“Vaughn,” he continued on through the list of loved ones, Vaughn’s heart rate a firm but slow thud under Elyna’s touch.
“Elyna,” the thudding drummed a little faster, and seemed to slow as realisation flooded her mind. Malcolm concentrated very hard, his own hand sinking down to touch the swell of her belly as a new thud took centre stage, that of their unborn child, quick but faint, healthy.
He pulled Elyna’s hand away from his chest as his heart returned to normal, his ability ceased. “Elyna I,” slept with someone else, he wanted to tell her, sure it was written all over his face, that she had realised something wasn't quite right since the moment of his return. But then no, she had forgotten, by her own words, everything else had paled in comparison. His heart gave a firm kick, and he reached for his own chest to chase the sensation away.
Everything hurt, had he ever felt so empty? “I took comfort from another on that mountain,” and just like that, the secret wasn't his anymore, but the sickness and the stones remained. “A slave girl…” he admitted, not sure if she was alive or dead anymore.
Did it matter?

[Elyna]

Of all the responses, Elyna had not expected this one. She followed him on weak legs, dread pooling in her stomach. Was this the end? Could he not find it in his heart to forgive her weaknesses any longer? She felt far away from herself, watching from a distance. Prepared for the worst. He would be moving out, or expect her to leave. The beat in her chest was so loud, that at first she couldn’t hear what he said. The panic eased and she could breath again, sucking in a deep lungful of air as though suddenly bought back to life.
Escape? From the Mountains? She blinked at him and nodded. Of course he would try. A boy had died and she flinched, fingers twitched as they hung by her side. She wanted to reach out and touch him, to offer support and comfort, but she resisted. He wasn’t done yet. She was sorry for the guilt he was carrying, could feel it in the weight of his words. “I had searched for you,” she smiled, eyes wide in the dim light of the dying fire. Of course she remembered, the smile faded as quickly as it had arrived. It was how she’d known Malcolm would know about the kiss.
It was the reason she should have told him about Vakhanor.
Her palm felt cool against the linen of his shirt and then his skin. He shared with her the sensation of heartbeats and it stole the air from her body once more. Weightless, she felt each heartbeat with a swelling sense of pride. Little Elsie was so strong and this new baby…it was so faint. She willed their child to grow bigger and stronger. This was a gift, a miracle. The baby was there, growing trial on trial and break by break. Not long now, she thought, not long till I can hold you.
Dazed, she felt reluctant to return to reality and remained where she stood, lashes brushing her cheeks in slow blinks. It felt as though she was dreaming. The world unsteady beneath her feet, like the deck of a swaying ship. Her legs felt as though they would were going to drop out from beneath her and she lent, heavy on the side, with her hands behind her.
A slave girl. Comfort?
She swallowed.
“You…took comfort?” Elyna wasn’t stupid, but she liked to know that she had all of the facts before making a decision. Before her heart lurched in a reaction. Comfort. He’d slept alongside someone, his arms wrapped around them for warmth? “Malcolm, you were in the middle of the mountains, it must have been terrifying…”
That’s not what he meant. Was it? She stared at the floor, unable to see her feet anymore.
“Malcolm…” Elyna looked up, “do you love me?”

[Malcolm]

Confused by the question, Malcolm appeared to be hesitant, when really he was only taken aback. Did he love her? What kind of question was that? Did she think he had acted out of love for another? No, never. He looked, momentarily, as if she had insulted him.
Features softened and relaxed. “With all that I am,” he told her, “I love you.”
His love, his devotion to her had never been in question. Malcolm had been burned and so wanted the world to burn, wanted to forget, wanted to leave his mark on someone who kept chipping pieces away from him. It had been wrong, and with all his heart, he regretted it.
“Elyna I love you, you are everything, you mean everything to me.”
You are enough, you are important, you are wanted, he thought.
“You get one life,” he looked down, “and by the gods, it would kill me if at the end of your life, you told me you hadn't lived your best life.”
Malcolm looked into her eyes. He didn't want to be her ball and chain, he wanted to be her wings, a moon in a solar system where she was the sun.