Chapter 20 #2
"You have correctly surmised that the root of my failure is in thinking as sinnenthi and not entinn.
I thought only of my creche; I did not think of the cost my actions would have on you.
While I planned to court you, while I hoped to win you, I also denied you personhood and agency.
I did what has been done to you, over and over again: I used you.
What is worse, what is more shameful, is that I encouraged your affection for me, knowing that I was adding yet another scar to those you have collected.
I could see that you were courageous enough to open yourself to me, and I accepted what you offered, while understanding that I was a blade and I would cut you deeply and terribly. "
I swallowed, throat thick. It was suddenly difficult to breathe. Of course he'd seen all of my scars; of course he had. He'd always been so observant. I'd just –
"This is hard." It came out of me, unsteady and thin.
At once, Araxis looked up, his features tightening in concern. His eyes were wet, gleaming; I knew mine were too. "Is this too much?" he asked, low.
It was. And it wasn't. He needed this. Maybe there was part of me that needed it too.
"It's alright," I rasped, swiping the back of my hand up my face. "You can – keep going."
"If it is too much, please move," Araxis said, insistent. "I will not press."
"I know. But you can keep going."
He nodded and tipped his head forward again.
His hands were heavy on my skin, like braces pinning me in place, or else shoring me up.
I couldn't tell. He took a moment to inhale deeply, his breath hitching midway through the expansion of his chest. Another breath, smoother, and then he continued.
"I betrayed you before I knew you. And again once we'd met, and again once I began to catch glimpses of the brightness of your soul.
As I came to know you, to understand how you had been hurt before, as I listened to what you valued most, I could see that, with each step that I took, I was pushing the blade more deeply into the core of who you are.
By the end, I cannot say that I did not know – I did – and I cannot say that I did not care – I did – and yet I continued to forge onward.
My… callousness is outdone only, perhaps, by my cowardice: at any moment, I might have stopped so that I did not cut you quite so deeply, quite so cruelly, but I did not stop. I was selfish, arrogant, and cravenly."
I'd given up trying to blink back the tears that were leaking, hot, down my cheeks as I stared at the line of his crest, tightly pleated across the crown of his head, as I watched the shape of his shoulders in this perfect position – a low, extended bow. A penitent, a supplicant.
"I see now a thousand ways I should have acted in order to protect you from the cruelty I was inflicting.
I see myriad other paths I might have walked in order to treat you with the honour, dignity, and respect you deserve.
In my darkest moments, I thought that, by holding you tightly, by keeping you sheltered from the evils I had inflicted on you, I would be able to prevent you from breaking.
But I had already done the breaking, and you have never needed my hand in order to put yourself back together.
I – still find myself struggling, Sashen, to follow where you lead.
It is my nature as sinnenthi to protect, to act, to fix, and you are right: I have too long suppressed my qualities as entinn.
I wish to listen. To – stand witness. I wish to cherish you as perfectly as you deserve, beloved, and I understand that I may have broken what we shared beyond repair.
I will defer to you in how – if – you wish to proceed.
You are… the driver, and I am the horse?
" His voice then dropped to no more than a whisper as he slid into abayan, the lilt of the words sad and haunting, "For all that I have done, for the weaknesses I have carried in me that allowed these great injustices to occur, I offer my deepest and most profound apologies, and I extend my gratitude for your generosity of spirit in listening to my humble and insufficient words. "
He said it with the cadence of a benediction, and that familiar tone sent a shiver down the length of my spine. How often had I mumbled words late at night, asking for forgiveness? How often had my mouth shaped syllables so familiar they were worn down like river stones?
But he wasn't praying to a god. He was speaking to me.
His hands slid reluctantly from my knees, and he settled them back in his own lap, his head still bowed before me.
I swallowed. I shifted. I took the collar of my sweater and swiped it across my face, trying to mop up the tears staining my skin with salt. I hugged my knees to my chest as I turned my head to look across our bedroom, here on Sozamia Station, where I'd made a home with Araxis.
I'd thought once that it might feel nice, being apologized to, until Araxis had apologized to me the first time and I realized that it made me feel vulnerable instead.
I didn't like anyone to see the bruises I carried; I didn't want anyone to notice the broken bones that hadn't set right, down in my soul; I didn't like my dark corners to be illuminated.
But how could I be with him if we couldn't do this? How could I be with anyone?
Although I didn't want anyone. I wanted Araxis.
This was the labour of my choosing.
Part of me wanted to say, again, that I'd already forgiven him, that we could forget about the whole thing, that we could just move forward and concentrate on the endless amount of awful shit we had to deal with from here on out.
But that wouldn't do, would it? Where was the resolution in that? Where was the sacrament? The anointment?
"You hurt me in a way I didn't know I could be hurt," I said after a long silence.
"I thought I'd killed the parts of me that could feel that way.
I thought I'd buried them deep down, where they couldn't ever be brought back.
But you made me feel so much. It's like all I am when I'm around you is feeling.
I tried to shut it down. I thought, if we had a contract, maybe that would help.
But that was impossible. Of course I love you; the question I've had to ask myself, again and again, isn't if I still love you. It's if I can trust you."
Araxis's chin was tipped down, and I watched as a silvery tear pattered down on the back of his hand.
"Yes, I understand," he said, strained. "I knew, even when you sent your message when I left with Vivith – I trust you in a way that has nothing to do with the creche and everything to do with the two of us," as if he'd read it over and over, as if he'd memorized every one of my careful words, "I knew it was a generosity, a gift for me, a source of strength when I needed it.
But I do not expect you to trust me as you once did, with all of who you are. How could you?"
I sniffed. One of my legs eased out so that my foot pressed up against the crease of his knee, where his legs were folded beneath him. He startled at the touch, but didn't look up. "Honestly," I said slowly, "I think it's because I'm a lot braver than you are."
That got his attention. Araxis's face jerked up, eyes wide; his skin was washed out, matte.
"How could I trust you again? I don't know.
How could I trust anyone? And clearly my good sense leaves a lot to be desired – we've seen that firsthand in the last few weeks – but I do.
I trust you." I nudged his leg again, as he stared at me, face blank.
"I already told you that I forgive you. And I do.
And hearing everything you've said only confirms it's the right choice, if it even is a choice.
Of course I forgive you: it's us. And as hard as things have been, as awful as they were – you also make me feel hopeful.
I want you to know that. I wouldn't have tried – I wouldn't have wanted to try – if you didn't make it possible for me to hope for something better. "
"I –" Araxis started.
"Is there something you need me to say? Are there ritual words?" He shook his head once, although I suspected there were words that might make some of the misery still present on his features a little less pronounced, so I added, "Don't make me go ask Inmadra. I will."
His eyes drifted shut. One of his hands rose to his chest again, rubbing the skin there. "Then you might tell me that you have heard my apology and – consider it an adequate accounting of my failures."
I squared my shoulders, studying his face as he kept his eyes closed, like looking at me might be too painful.
His mouth was twisted in a pained grimace, the skin around his eyes tight.
I gathered up the words in abayan as best I could, knowing they would be imperfect, but that he'd hear me anyway.
"I have heard your apology. It is a thorough accounting of your failures.
I have heard the words you have said. I will hold them with care, as you hold me with care. "
A sharp sound loosed from his throat, the keen of subvocals; I watched Araxis's fingers spasm against his chest, a breathy sound escaping his parted lips. "You are too good to me, Sashen," he said. "You are too kind." He sounded like he meant it, like my kindness might break him.
Then again, he seemed to be surrounded by people who were always telling him he was failing in some way or another. Maybe he needed me like this. He'd said earlier that I had seen how hungry he was for praise, although he tried to hide it. I could do that. It was easy, when it was Araxis.