Episode 149
Regain Your Strength
Viala watches Tharios as he hovers nearby while Healer Cadowyn prepares for Elowyn’s next treatment.
Tharios is struggling not to use his own magic on his sister. Viala can read it in his eyes. His time with Viala in the bath helped him a great deal, but he’s still weak, even if he’s been hiding it well.
Hopefully, he makes wise choices here now.
“Slower this time,” Tharios insists.
“I concur,” Healer Cadowyn says, “though her body seems to have reacted well to the first treatment. I see a marked improvement in her recovery.”
“Slower,” Tharios says again, and Healer Cadowyn nods.
“Are you ready, my princess?” the healer asks.
Elowyn grips Rominy’s hand. “Go ahead.”
Healer Cadowyn places his hands against Elowyn, and she tenses. Her eyes pinch closed, and she whimpers, but she doesn’t scream.
Tharios keeps his eyes trained on Elowyn the entire time. How frustrated and helpless he must feel. Viala’s anger with him has had time to cool, and her heart just aches for him now.
He’ll be well enough to resume Elowyn’s care soon, though.
The door silently opens, and Grandmera slips into the room. Her usual stoic expression falters at the pain on Elowyn’s face, but Healer Cadowyn soon steps away.
“I believe that’s enough for now. I’ll return soon for your next treatment.” He nods Grandmera’s way before letting himself into the vestibule.
Elowyn’s chest heaves, but she seems to be in a much better place this time than the last.
“How do you feel?” Tharios asks.
“Stronger. The pain is nearly gone.”
Tharios nods. “Good. I’m sorry I can’t help you.”
“It’s a difficult thing to inflict pain on someone you love, Tharios,” Grandmera says. “Be grateful Healer Cadowyn is here to do so in your stead.”
He seems anything but grateful, but he doesn’t argue.
“Have you heard anything from anyone?” Elowyn asks Grandmera.
Hopefully, Rominy is following the Elvish words well enough. Viala understands what it’s like to be left out of the conversation.
“Tharios,” she says softly. “Translate?”
His brows wrinkle before his eyes alight with understanding, and he turns to Rominy, speaking in Nunian.
Rominy nods and says something in return, and Grandmera continues speaking in Elvish, for which Viala is grateful.
“I’ve heard no further updates, but that waypoint is a good six hours from here.
Perhaps more. If Corivos reached it after daylight and sent someone back to report, it may still be a couple of hours before we receive word of what’s happening.
Be patient, young ones. Focus on getting well so you may be strong when you are needed. ”
Tharios quietly translates, and Rominy looks grateful.
“To that end, I recommend you all take the opportunity to rest,” Grandmera says. “Especially my elflings. Regain your strength now while you are able. We face an uncertain future, but we face it together. And we are stronger together.”
She soon takes her leave, and a somberness fills the room.
“She’s right,” Tharios says in slow Elvish. “We should rest. Prepare for what tomorrow holds.”
“That includes you,” Elowyn says as she sits up.
Tharios sighs. “Yes.” He looks toward Viala, and she holds out a hand.
“Come away with me, my love,” she whispers in Lothlesian. “Find your rest in me.”
He doesn’t argue as she leads him back to their chamber and closes the door.
She reaches for his tunic, lifting it for him to shrug out of.
“I know where this is going,” he says, a playful glint in his eyes. “It ends with me sleeping.”
She smiles in return. “You are the most brilliant elf I know.”
“Lie down with me? Please.”
“Do you even need to ask?”
He gathers the shimmeron of her skirt in his hands. “It seemed like the polite thing to do.”
That draws a laugh from her.
Soon, she crawls into bed beside him, pressing her flesh to his, and he quickly falls asleep.
“I’ll guard you while you rest, my love,” she whispers. “Always.”
Once they finish eating, Arisanna slips her hand into Cerian’s. His eyes are wide, and those walls of his have gone up again.
She had no idea how many elves lingered outside the stone shelter until she and Cerian followed Corivos through the doorway earlier.
Cerian managed surprisingly well, though he spoke as little as possible, and that adorable scowl crept onto his face a few times.
Now, though, he seems to have reached the end of his ability to cope with the activity around them.
“Why don’t we return to the shelter now?” she says softly. “Let Second Rafelis take a break.”
Cerian stares at her. He’s barely holding himself together, and her words don’t seem to register.
Then he blinks and nods, relief sweeping over him, and she tugs him toward the shelter.
Second Rafelis looks up from Uncle Quilian’s side, and concern fills his eyes as he rises.
“Come here, Cerian,” he says quietly, and Cerian wanders toward him almost automatically. “Do you remember the breathing exercises we used to do when you were an elfling?”
Cerian nods. “But I’m not...I’m not an elfling anymore.”
“No, but you are overwhelmed. This will help. Close your eyes and tune out all the noise. Just listen to my voice.”
Cerian’s eyes slide shut.
“Now, take a deep breath in. And hold it. Now breathe out. Slowly. Calmly.”
Cerian does as Second Rafelis says, and Arisanna watches curiously. He’s comfortable with Second Rafelis. It’s touching to see.
“My princess,” Second Rafelis says. “Join us.”
Cerian’s eyes open as Arisanna steps uncertainly toward them.
“You stand here.” Second Rafelis moves away from Cerian, and Arisanna takes his place. “With Cerian’s permission, I want you to place your palms over his ears. Just the lower part. Block out some of the noise.”
Cerian nods, and Arisanna carefully slips her hands onto his ears as he closes his eyes again.
“Now you coach him. Deep breath in. Hold. And slow breath out.”
“Can he hear me?” she whispers. “With my hands on his ears?”
“Yes,” Cerian says, his lips barely moving.
“Elven hearing is far more sensitive than human hearing,” Second Rafelis says. “You’re just helping him tune out some of the extraneous noise.”
“All right.” She repeats the breathing coaching as Second Rafelis instructed, and Cerian breathes with her.
“Slower, my princess,” Second Rafelis says quietly, and she repeats the words more slowly this time. “Perfect. You feel his heart beating?” Second Rafelis asks, and Arisanna nods.
“Keep going until his heart slows.”
“And then what?”
“What follows, I leave to the two of you. I’m going to give you some privacy, but I’ll remain near. Call if anyone needs me.”
He slips away, and Arisanna looks back at Cerian. His eyes remain closed, and the weight of his trust in her hits her hard.
His circle of safe people is larger than she realized, but at the center of it now...is her.
“Deep breath, my elven prince,” she says, and he follows her breathing until their hearts slow.
“Thank you,” he says softly as his eyes open. “I’m sorry.”
She shakes her head, her hands still on his ears. “I love you, Cerian. Just the way you are.”
His eyes dart briefly to her lips, and he clears his throat, glancing away. “I believe I’m better now. You may—”
Before he can say whatever he was going to say, she draws him into a kiss. Everyone else in here is asleep. They might as well be alone.
She lets her hands wander higher along those perfect ears of his as a groan escapes him, and he pulls her against him.
He returns her kiss with all the passion he’s always so full of, and she lets herself get lost in his kiss.
In the warmth of his hand on her back. All the heat of their last moments in the heartlanding awakens within her again, and frustration mixes with the longing coursing through her.
If only they were truly alone.
He pulls away before his heat becomes too much for her, the way he always does when there’s no water to dampen his fire magic, and she barely holds back a whimper.
Then he wraps his arms around her, cocooning her with the excess heat he probably needs to release. Not that she minds.
Not at all.
“I love your fire magic,” she breathes.
“And I love you. Thank you. Truly. I...I hate that I—”
She puts a finger over his lips. “What is it your mother says? Who you are is enough?”
Rather than responding, he pulls her close again, burying his face in her hair.
Her hair. Stars above.
“Cerian?”
“Hmm?”
“My hair. It’s a mess.”
“It’s perfect.”
“Cerian!”
“Shh. You’ll wake everyone.” He lets her go and tucks a wisp of hair behind her ear. “I don’t have a brush.”
“Can you braid it for me again? Please?”
He kisses her in response before leading her to a chair and combing his fingers through the tangles. “We’ll be home soon, all right?”
“Do you think Tharios will come here? To help your uncle?”
“You’d have to tie him down to keep him away. Tharios always comes.” He quickly corrals her hair in a fresh braid. “There. You are now just as beautiful as you were five minutes ago.”
His words warm her.
“Can we go check on Starfire?” Cerian asks. “He might be nervous, too.”
A smile tugs at her lips at the thought of this elven prince of hers and his perfect match of a unicorn, and she rises to follow him outside once more.