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There were two unalterable truths Shamir accepted upon defecting from the Knights of Seiros. The first was knowing she would see Rhea again; a troublesome prospect but it didn’t haunt her thoughts and dreams. Her debt to the woman had long since been repaid. However, the second was not so easily embraced. She knew the day would come when Catherine would face her across the battlefield they once shared.
And Shamir, though feigning dispassion, despaired musing about this bleak reality. Yet beneath the surface of long-harbored affection was a sea of immense excitement. Catherine was her match in every way that mattered; she wouldn’t be felled with a whimper.
She knew what her partner looked like in the thick of battle. The stern glacial intensity of her eyes. The feral gnash of sharp, pearly teeth. The damp curl of hair as sweat slid down her brow, color stained dark as her clouded rage. And greater than fear or regret, Shamir desired that single-minded ferocity.
All it took was a glimpse and a beckoning smile for Catherine to give chase. Shamir fled from her as a gazelle would a stalking lion, drawing the predator from the stone walls of its den and into the dense wood. So far they fled, Fhirdiad disappeared from view and the smoke of a burning city vanished with it. It was naught but her and Catherine at long last.
Just as foretold, the woman was golden and flushed in her passion, clad in the silvery armor of flawed faith. Shamir shivered beneath that icy gaze. Was it mere anger that lured Catherine here, or did she share this mingled need for lust and blood? As a sword drew from its sheathe, an answer was given.
Shamir leap aside as the blade whistled past her ear. She retreated with haste, forced on the defensive. Catherine would spare no words for her. Only death would sate her now. Before, the thought would rend Shamir in twain, bitter with love as it collected upon her inert tongue. An unvoiced yearning pulled before it could bloom. But that hope was gone now, burned with everything that lay between them. In its place was only this harrowing moment.
Amid the spiraling thicket, Catherine appeared as all wild things must; born naught from man nor creature but the womb of nature itself. She flit atop the leaves, legs firm and low as she took a bestial stance. Her hair was a tangle of gold, eyes bright as the fang of a hungry blade. Her skin glittered in the dusk, matching the haloing sheen of her garb.
Shamir was caught by the sight of her; snared inexorably by this woman forever called partner. She sent an arrow for Catherine’s chest, but it sailed betwixt the gap of her arm. So she sent another, only for it to skid harmlessly off a plated shoulder. Her heart quickened as the gap slowly closed. Soon, she could see every windswept strand and the shine of exertion along bronzed flesh. Catherine was so very glorious in her anger, singing sweetly to the base need Shamir had nursed since they met.
At long last, Catherine appeared to tire of the chase. She darted for her lithe counterpart, using her greater mass to knock Shamir to the mossy earth. There, Catherine loomed like the triumphant beast she had become. The sword she wielded was thrust into the soft earth beside Shamir’s head. They heaved in concert, breath unfurling across heated skin.
Shamir could sense the power roiling beneath flesh, see it in the throbbing veins of her neck and arms. She wanted it. And truly, she had wanted to be here from the start; trapped and cornered as a doe caught within Catherine’s jaws. She waited for her partner’s decision, whether to spare or rip out her throat. Still, Catherine said nothing.
Shamir arched beneath her partner’s heavier frame, allowing her cheek to graze the blade’s edge. Blood drew from the cut; a singular bead of crimson slid along her jaw. A different sort of fervor blossomed in her belly and deepened at Catherine’s piercing stare.
“It’s over,” Shamir said at last. “You’ve won. Will you finish the slaughter?”
“Then you surrender?” Catherine’s response was but a rasping breath. Shamir lidded her eyes, lips curved into a vicious smirk. She curled her arms around her partner’s back, fingers twining beneath the plate mail. Then she dug her nails into the flesh found.
“What good is surrender to a lion? Are you prey, Catherine—or am I yours?” Shamir canted her head upward, nose sliding against the curve of a slick throat. “Devour me, lest I sink my teeth in you.”
Catherine made a noise akin to a purring growl. She dipped her head, eyes pinning Shamir to the damp soil. There was no shred of grace to their resulting kiss. Catherine’s mouth conquered, overlapping Shamir’s in a hungry rake of tongue and teeth. Heady as a summer gale, her body surrounded all it touched. It felt all-consuming; as if Shamir were drowning in everything Catherine was and would be.
She gasped, shaken as Catherine’s lips trailed to her neck. Calloused and eager fingers pulled insistently at her clothing, crawling under to graze pale skin. Shamir clung to Catherine’s broad back with a wicked grin. This was far better than death, though the threat of a swift demise couldn’t be forgotten. The blood wetting her cheek filled her nose and muddled her thoughts. Their kiss was edged with its metallic bite; harsh and jarring as it should be.
It was perfect and everything she needed. Only… Catherine’s touch softened, turning reverent rather than ravenous. Shamir whined; a pathetic noise she wouldn’t dare make in other circumstances. She left the pitiful to Catherine. Shamir flashed her partner a look of frustration as she pulled away.
“Rougher,” she demanded suddenly. Catherine obeyed, mouthing her neck. The sharp edge of canines scraped pleasantly against her jugular. Shamir leaned into the muscled length of her partner, privately wishing Catherine’s grip would tighten. It didn’t. The kiss gentled once again, and Shamir squinted impatiently.
“You’re being too soft. You know damn well you wouldn’t kiss me like that.”
“I always kiss you like this.” Catherine blinked, brow deeply furrowed. It was just like the dense woman to miss the point. Shamir tugged her collar with a scowl.
“Not back then, and you know it. We agreed to remain in character. Remember, I joined Edelgard and left you. You’re seeing me after five years of pain and longing—keep that in mind.”
“If you had left me, I doubt we'd kiss at all," Catherine grunted. She frowned in palpable confusion. "I would’ve given everything to kill you.”
“Oh, yeah?” Shamir felt a thrill at the thought. She nipped her lover’s neck. “Tell me how...”
“I guess with Thunderbrand. Not that I have it anymore.”
“Would you pursue me to the very end, until we knew only the sweet pain of fighting each other?” Shamir inhaled, drinking in her partner’s woodsy scent. She burned with unfulfilled desire. “It would be mutual destruction. The only fitting end for us."
“Shamir.” Catherine leaned away. Her gaze was wide and searching. “You don’t want me to kill you, right?”
“Of course not. I’ve invested too much in keeping both of us safe.”
“Then, why this ruse?”
Sensing the mood was broken irrevocably, Shamir heaved a sigh. She pushed the taller woman aside. Catherine was normally a creature of instinct rather than thought. This little scenario should have ended in passionate lovemaking atop a bed of moss. She blamed herself, honestly. It was because of her that Catherine tended to overthink things nowadays.
“I like your passion; the heat of your anger.” Shamir gave Catherine a long once-over, making the filthy nature of her regard plain. “You look so beautiful when enraged. I used to picture the faces you would make in battle whenever I was alone. It aroused me.”
Catherine made a faint choking noise. Her dark complexion colored further. “You would… In battle? When I killed people?”
“Well, not during. And certainly not publicly.” Shamir tossed her head, shaking off a few leaves. “It didn’t happen that often, so stop looking scandalized. You’re a handsome woman to whom I'm deeply attracted. I don't know why you're surprised."
“So this fantasy…?”
“I thought it would be fun. All your rage taken out on me in a fit of mindless passion—” Shamir peered sidelong at her dumbfounded partner. “Then you had to ruin it by being soft.”
“Sorry for being concerned, Lady Shamir.” Catherine huffed mightily, raking a hand through her hair. It was unruly and mussed from their earlier chase. “I had no idea you got off while thinking of me murdering you.”
“It’s not death that excites me. It’s the promise of your passion; the closest thing I had to your love.” Shamir glanced away, still uncomfortable thinking of their fraught history. She had been a fool over Catherine for years. Even now, partners in every conceivable way, the memories stung. “I once thought hate might be the closest I would ever get. So tempted by this, I considered joining Edelgard. I didn’t, but this fantasy could have easily been our reality.”
“Don't say that...” Catherine flagged, hunching inward. “I hate imagining what might’ve happened. Just by you refusing to raze a city, I was irrationally hurt. If you abandoned me years ago, I would likely be no better than a mad dog.”
“Which is why this is only a silly whim and not the reality we live in.” Shamir drew Catherine close, kissing her cheek. Her exasperation fled, replaced by overwhelming affection. Nonetheless, she mustered a deadly smirk. “I would put you down without a second thought. You would be mine alone to kill.”
“You are consistently shit at pillow talk."
“It’s a forest, Catherine. And here, only animals cavort among the leaves.” Shamir sank against her partner’s chest. She stared through the trees and upward at the clouds. Winter had passed, and spring had come to drench the northern woods of Gautier. A thick mass of grey sprawled above them. “We’ll never be fully domesticated creatures. Something wild lives in our bones, derived of anguish. Beasts mate amongst themselves.”
“I think I know what you mean.” Catherine nuzzled her chin against Shamir’s neck. “But we’re happy here. This place is plenty wild, isn’t it? Maybe that’s why I feel so at home.”
“I feel the same. Perhaps that’s the reason Garreg Mach didn’t fit. It was a false wilderness. No better than a prison.”
“Is that why you want my passion?” Catherine asked. Her voice lacked the bewilderment from before, sounding sincere. “Because it’s the honest and wild parts of me instead of artifice?”
“Anyone would prefer their lover’s truest self. For me, it’s a revelation to see those bits of unbridled honesty. It was painful to watch as you tried to stifle them into something they weren't. The Catherine I knew—the one I wholly loved was the bloodied and emotional woman who weathered the years by my side...” Shamir’s voice trailed as she registered a palm gliding across her belly. She hummed pleasantly, closing her eyes as Catherine palmed her chest. “Would you like to try our little game again?”
“I finally understand what you want now. Besides, I’ve always been a hands-on student.”