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The fireplace crackling next to them illuminated Isobel’s curves as she straddled Aylin, grinding on her thigh languidly. When exactly their relaxing evening had turned into more, Aylin couldn’t say anymore. Though she would argue this was more relaxing than any reading ever could be.
From this angle, especially, Isobel put all the gods to shame. Dim light was dancing over the curve of her breasts, over her soft stomach, and Aylin wanted nothing more than to touch, to prove that this was not a figment of her imagination.
Before she could bring her hands up they were caught by Isobel’s. Her lover's gentle fingers caressed her wrists.
"Nu-uh.", the sound of her low voice surely would've made Aylin's knees cave out from under her, had they not already been on the floor. Before Aylin could attempt to beg for even a sliver of a touch, Isobel shook her head, a knowing smile on her face.
"You're at my mercy tonight, agreed?", the demand was more playful than stern, yet Aylin did not take it any less seriously.
"Agreed.", Aylin repeated, hoarsely.
"Good.", Isobel hummed and brought Aylin's wrists together, slim fingers wrapping around them, though they didn't reach all the way. As they did, something shifted, uneasiness spreading in Aylin.
Even before Isobel had fully pinned her wrists onto the rug, the smell of rotten flesh filled Aylin's nose and her throat closed up. Her tongue lay heavy in her mouth almost as if she might choke on it.
A thousand needles bore into her back, then her limbs, as it went numb. She could feel Balthazar's rancid breath on her neck, could hear his hollow voice in her ear.
Try not to struggle too much, dear Aylin. We wouldn't want to mess up my masterpiece beyond recognition. The cold blade of a dull knife against her skin. Then the sharp pain as it finally drew blood and its rust burned into her flesh.
Aylin, you should be appreciating yourself more. The scraping of it against her bones. The sound of them slowly being ground to dust until the joint was loose enough.
Where are your manners? A simple thank you would suffice. Then a tug, as yet another part of her was ripped off at the seams. The skin that had not been severed by the blade was stretching agonizingly until it finally gave in.
Aylin, Aylin, sweet Ay- "lin, you're okay. I'm sorry."
The voice grew softer, gradually, until it was not Balthazar talking anymore but Isobel. Her Isobel, who was alive and well.
This was not the Shadowfell. Balthazar was dead for good and Isobel was with her again.
Still, the chill in Aylin’s bones wouldn't leave. The ghosts of her shackles still desperately clinging to her skin. And despite her best efforts, her lungs wouldn't obey and draw breath.
The hero had let her out of her cage and led her out of the darkness but she couldn’t simply take the darkness out of herself.
"Look at me, Aylin. I'm right here. May I touch you?", Isobel was kneeling beside her, hands hovering over Aylin's arms. Concern was written all over her face, deep lines on her forehead, and her lower lip twitching.
“No.”, Aylin managed to choke out. There were enough hands on her as it was, closing around her arms, her thighs, her waist. Even crawling out of her skin would not be enough to cleanse herself.
“I won’t. I promise.”, Isobel lowered her hands and placed them in her lap, her palms turned upwards. She hummed a quiet incantation and the room lit up, each and every shadow dispelled.
As rotten flesh was joined by lavender, with Isobel’s magic - her mother’s magic - engulfing Aylin, her lungs finally allowed her some air.
"You're okay, my angel. You're with me.", the words echoed in Aylin's mind until a dull sense of relief settled in.
Only it was accompanied by realization. Dame Aylin, the unbreakable, had been broken. Broken beyond recognition.
Balthazar and Ketheric, even in death's death, were ever-present. In her memory, they had been immortalized.
She would not be rid of them for as long as she lived. Their visages were etched into her mind, along with all their crimes inflicted on her.
The dam broke for the first time in a century, tears streaming down her face. The last time it had been the crushing weight of Isobel's loss.
Yet, here she was, crying over mere figments of her imagination, mere memories.
This fit did not become the Sword of the Moonmaiden. And her Isobel, of all people, had to bear witness to her failure.
"I'm so sorry, Aylin.", Isobel's voice quivered and through her blurry vision, Aylin could see a single tear running down her cheek.
Seeing Isobel so distraught was worse than a spear to her heart. Knowing she was the cause was worse than the burning pain of her divine blood mending her body back together.
Her attempt to regain herself and take a deep breath turned into an ugly sob. Hot white rage threatened to overtake her but it was staved off by something else, emptiness.
There was no one to be angry at, but herself. It was her own mind still torturing her and all she could do was give in, so she did.
She held onto her knees to ease the quakes in her body as they overtook her. A century of loneliness, of pain, crashed down on her as she finally allowed herself to feel.
It was released in waves. Aylin was driftwood caught in the angry, stormy ocean that was her mind. The currents were far too strong to fight. Each time she thought she might come up for air again, the undertow pulled her back underwater.
Eventually, the river had run dry. Aylin’s bones were tired, her muscles sore, her head throbbing. She had no tears to cry anymore. Her breath was still shaking but at least she inhibited herself again.
Isobel had not moved an inch, still kneeling next to her with her hands shedding light in the otherwise dark room. Guilt twisted knots into Aylin’s stomach as she looked at her love.
"It is not your burden to carry, my love. You should not have to see me like this.", she grimaced apologetically and reached out to wipe the tears from Isobel's eyes.
"It's mine as it is yours.", Isobel's eyes stared right into Aylin's soul and she knew there was no arguing against her.
As Aylin lowered her hand again, Isobel held hers out, a silent offer. It hung between them for a short eternity before Aylin accepted it.
Isobel's spell illuminated the both of them as their fingers intertwined. The light stifled any chill that threatened to creep up Aylin's spine at the touch.
“There’s only so much a soul can bear, even one as radiant as yours, my angel. Allow me to share the weight with you.”, the words were spoken softly, yet insistently. “If you can’t speak of it tonight I understand but I need you to talk to me eventually.”
Aylin would have preferred to never speak of it at all. It was but a chapter in her story and one she was eager to forget. Yet it clung to her, the bloody gore of it stuck in every pore.
“Ask away.”, her voice was flat, defeated. She would not share more than was necessary but her love deserved an explanation at the very least.
Isobel glanced at Aylin's wrists. Then her eyes wandered along the golden lines until they stopped at the deep scar tissue on Aylin's abdomen.
Aylin could pinpoint the moment Isobel recognized the difference between the scars that had been caused by a blade and those that stemmed from her body mending itself back together.
"They're not all from Sharran spears, are they?", Isobel whispered, her brows furrowed and her nose scrunched.
Then, before Aylin had a chance to respond, her eyes widened in realization.
"Marcus… That was… Oh, Aylin. I'm so sorry.", Isobel's voice shook as if she was holding back tears once more.
"How much did he…?" Take. The word hung heavy between them, even unspoken.
"Everything. Piece by piece. Some more often than others.", Aylin grit out. Her knuckles went white as her hand tightened around Isobel's.
The second Isobel winced, Aylin let go, horrified at how easily she had lost control. How easily she had hurt her love.
However, Isobel's hand followed hers, not grabbing, never grabbing, but still offering her the comfort of touch.
"Please, hold on.", she said softly, then, as if she could see the doubt on Aylin's face. "I'll handle it. I'm not frail, you know?"
For a moment Aylin was back in Reithwin, sun on her skin and the dull blade of her sword stuck in the straw man in the middle of the sparring grounds.
Isobel had taunted her to pick it back up, insisting she needed some practice with her new spear when most likely it had been but an excuse to spend some more time together.
The memory drowned out some of the raging screams in her mind. Knowing Isobel, that had been the intention behind her choice of words.
With the smallest part of the crushing weight lifted from her chest, Aylin let out a shaky breath and took Isobel's hand back into hers.
"I want to forget.", she admitted, barely audible, the unspeakable spoken. There she was, Selune's flesh and blood, longing and begging for Sharran oblivion.
"I'm not worthy anymore. Not of my mother's graces, not of you.", Aylin lowered her head. Ketheric had bested her in the end, even in death.
Isobel reached for Aylin’s chin, stopping herself at the very last moment.
"Aylin, look at me. You've been through so much, you were bound to break. You didn't deserve any of it. It's not your fault."
It might not have been her fault, yet she had failed to withstand. What use was a sword if it threatened to crumble at even the gentlest of touch?
“I’m here, whether you believe yourself worthy or not. You will not be rid of me. I know what you are capable of. If there is anyone who could overcome this, it’s you, my angel. And I will be by your side, however long it takes.”, her voice did not betray a single doubt.
None of this was Isobel’s responsibility and yet there she was, a pillar of light in the darkness surrounding Aylin. All Aylin could do in return was make sure Isobel’s efforts were not in vain.
"If there is any way to mend my soul it will be with your love.", she lowered her head some more until her lips brushed Isobel's fingers.
"You have all of it. Always have, always will.", the smile was audible in Isobel's voice even before Aylin looked at her.
"As you have mine.", Aylin reluctantly removed herself again. Their eyes met in silent understanding. They would not be sleeping tonight, not while the darkness still threatened to seep back underneath Aylin’s skin.
Isobel picked up the book that had long been discarded and wrapped herself in the blanket still lying on the floor with them. She held it open for a small eternity until Aylin gathered the courage to join her.
The weight of the blanket closed around her but despite her fears, it did not threaten to crush her. Her heavy bones rejoiced as she laid down and rested her head on Isobel’s chest.
All noise was drowned out. All, but the sound of Isobel’s heart beating and her soft voice as she read the novel out loud. Aylin did not know what it was about, did not register the meaning of the words but it was no matter, they soothed either way.
If she failed at all else, Aylin knew this would always be. For as long as Isobel lived Aylin would always have a sanctuary.
And with Isobel at her side, she would find a way to hold on and keep herself together, if only long enough to make good on her promise to the hero who had freed her. The one who had given her a chance to leave the horrors behind.