[genessia] just let your heart speak up and i'll know

[hellorhighwater]

Neil was scared. Legitimately scared.

It had been a long, long time since he'd felt this kind of fear--not even when he thought he was dying had he ever felt this. Too long, death had been a foregone conclusion for him: dying on the streets, dying in service of his king, dying at the hands of his own magic. No, death didn't scare him--death was an old friend, familiar and well loved.

This was the fear he felt the first night he slept in his new bed within the safety of Castle Nocturne. This was the fear he felt when he held a sword or threw fire for the first time. The fear of his first kill, with his first woman, of realizing he'd adopted his first teenager.

It was the fear of the unknown and the wanted. He was fucking terrified of something good and glorious and eternal not because he could have it--but because he could lose it.

And yet, he had to try.

The ring was easy: he bought it early on, entrusted its safety and that of his future to the Sky Maker, burying it not far from the box of souls with an offering of blood (not much, and the cut on his palm he attributed to a sparring session gone wrong). It was the other pieces that were hard--things he needed to do this right, to invoke the blessings of the gods that would give him what he wanted. He was well aware of how wrong this could go, and Neil wasn't about to screw it up if he could help it.

And he could help it. So he did.

The pieces came slowly, but when he got each one right he could almost feel the electricity, the weight of eyes--the awareness of his goddess and her son on high, the attention of the Sky Maker below. The elements, the vessels...it all felt perfect.

The clash of steel on steel stirred him from his fretful thoughts, the vibration of the blow rattling his teeth as it rocketed from fist to forearm to shoulder and finally head.

Maybe live combat sparring with real swords wasn't the greatest idea when he was so distracted.

Neil parried the strike he'd blocked, then advanced, trying to lose himself in the old dance of the fight. Sparring at home could only keep him so sharp, but fortunately he'd found some partners to work with in Fayren that could match his skill level well enough to challenge him, partners unafraid of working without restrictions, and work at the military hours he still tended to keep.

Today, he'd needed the help. Today, when he'd figured out how to begin the process of proposing. He thought of a dozen grand and sweeping gestures, a dozen more ridiculous and sappy presentations heavy on the flowers and equally flowery declarations of love--but he'd ultimately realized that the best way to begin was the way they had begun. It wasn't all that different from the Sky Maker and the Sun Goddess themselves, in the end.

Like the Sky Maker, he'd come to love a woman bringing him pure light. He'd even courted her with gifts: the eye of the Ember he'd presented her on their first date, the totem of her heart in condensed dragon fire the day he'd truly given up his heart.

Everything they were just...happened. It was how they started...it was how they would start.

So he'd slipped out as quietly as possible before the sun to head to the Drunken Monkey, where he'd met his sparring partner. It was his day off, but he still left a note on his pillow for her: At work. - N

And under the note, he'd left the long, black velvet jewelry box, containing a sterling silver chain on which hung a sleek, discreet glass pendant that contained a pinch of dark, fresh soil inside. No explanation, no reason--he just left it, left the house...

And sparred with a partner, instead of standing there biting his nails in terror as he waited for her to find him.

Comments

[fondofapples]

Regina wasn't a fool. She knew her mate, knew his rhythms, knew the heart she'd held in her hand. So she knew that something had happened. Something had changed.

She couldn't pinpoint it, often lost track of it for hours, even days on end. But it always came back to her, a half-remembered scent, a snatch of a melody, the charge of a storm on the air. If it weren't for the way their magic still met and mingled, the way their bodies slipped and strained in sweat, sex, and spit and everything she owned smelled just a little bit of him, she might have worried.

Might have worried more than she did.

But Neil could never be unfaithful. He wouldn't know how to begin. He couldn't fall out of love--he'd given up his heart when he fell in.

So she worried about the other things. The fever in his magic, sickness in his blood, the children (Arya), Genessia, just generally him. But she didn't hector him or turn harridan or worse let fear turn her dark. She was pretty proud of that.

She couldn't identify it well enough to ask about it, so she rode it out. It wasn't unpleasant, after all. Just different, and in her damaged soul, different had always meant dangerous.

Which was probably why she ripped the covers off the bed to search for scorpions or spiders when first she found the pendant empty of anything but soil. It would be just like Neil to give her something deadly and flatter her by the comparison.

Neither eyes nor magic found anything, and after she sank to the floor by the bed with the new pendant--an adrenaline-fueled laughing heap. She was still vibrating with it when she called him, night eyes starry with laughter and love, and tone just a little bit sharp with dragon's teeth.

"All right, my heart. A pendant of soil on pretty chain. What gives?"

[hellorhighwater]

“...figures.” Neil muttered to himself when his device went off, revealing Regina’s name as the caller. He’d just parted ways with his sparring partner, and was considering his next move to try and keep himself calm when she made herself known.

The one time he was hoping she would bodily chase him down for acting weird, and she goes out of her way not to surprise him...she was too damn considerate for her own good.

Ember’s Breath, he was gonna marry her or die trying.

When he answered and heard that familiar, tender sharpness in her voice—love and a queen’s power honed to a deadly edge—strangely, it eased some of that blind, beautiful panic, steadied his proverbial hand as he smiled on his side of the line.

“It’s soil from that patch of earth where you showed me my first sunrise in over twenty years.” He replied. “It’s...”

And that was the part he couldn’t explain on the phone. The language barrier—it would kill the moment.

Rolling his eyes, he laughed a little. “It’s also a word in Rueni I wanna teach you. I’m at the Drunken Monkey—out by the side, where you showed me your heart. Come see me, I’ll tell you what the necklace is called when you get here.”

[fondofapples]

More courting gifts? It wasn't her birthday, but she wouldn't put it past Neil to have recalled some tradition or holiday that called for this kind of gift-giving, or simply decided he wished to.

"You're very odd sometimes," she replied, because she wouldn't be her if she didn't taunt and tease and snipe. But inside, she was smiling, happy to play whatever game this was for the change to be with Neil instead of dealing with accounts.

"Tell me now if I need to dress for foraging. I refuse to ruin another pair of shoes." Which, of course, was patently ridiculous, since changing her clothes was as easy as a thought.

"Also, good morning, my love. Next time you decide to leave soil in a pendant in our bed, please also leave a note that I don't need to panic over escaped scorpions."

[hellorhighwater]

"Scorpions?..." It took him a moment to dredge up a vague memory of an insect with a tail--a real one, long and curved and wicked...but when he did, he laughed and shook his head.

"Didn't think about that--sorry, Beloved." he apologized, enjoying the weight of the word in his mouth as he hadn't allowed himself before. Beloved.

Ember's Balls, he was scared.

"See you in a few." he replied before hanging up. All he had to do was wait, at this point. She'd show up--she always did.

And when she did, she'd find him seated on an overturned barrel, taking a whetstone to his sword. He still bore traces of exertion in his damp brow and frizzing hair, barely being held back at his nape, and one foot bouncing against the ground restlessly betrayed his disquiet.

Glancing up when he became aware of her, he sought her out with his gaze and grinned when his eyes lighted on her. Having her close--weirdly, it calmed him a little. Sure, this could still go painfully wrong, but now that she was here? It didn't quite feel that way.

"I haven't been totally honest with you about something." he began by way of greeting, making up for her previous accidental scare by cutting right to the chase. "It's the word...beloved. It's not a term of endearment--it's not even English, it's a word from one of the dead tongues in the Five Realms. It literally means breath of the Creator. Dragons believe the seat of life is the lungs, not the brain or heart, so...yeah."

He was babbling. Damn it. Shaking his head, he slid to his feet and set his whetstone down, propping his sword against the barrel.

"Some say it's the true name of the Sun Goddess, the one that's been lost to time...that's why we use it that way now, to identify those we love that dearly. That's why...uh...that's why the proper name of the first token of betrothal is the Sky Maker's Tongue--but for short, we call it beloved. 'Breath of the Creator.'."

[fondofapples]

"If it's the true name of the Sun Goddess, why is the first token--" Of betrothal. She'd heard it. She just wasn't sure she'd understood it right. Because he wouldn't be doing anything like that without discussing it with her first, would he? "Called the Sky Maker's Tongue?"

She paused, putting her hands on her hips, and studying. "While I'm at it, why do you look like you're sure I'm going to tear your head off?" With the bouncing foot, frizzy hair, look of overexertion.

"Also what does any of this have to do with the glass pendant with the earth in it? Not that it isn't lovely, but I'm not entirely tracking, my love. It sounds like some sort of ritual, though, and it's obviously important to you."

She stepped forward toward him, reached out with one hand to smooth down the frizzled halo of his hair and instantly felt the swamping wave of her love for him. "Help me understand so I don't mess it up for you."

[hellorhighwater]

That first step--saying the words out loud--it took some of the pressure off because it was out in the world, and she wasn't running away or telling him no. At least, not yet.

But it did make it a little easier to settle, to shut his eyes as she slid a hand over his hair and drench him in the electric serenity of her touch. It let him welcome the perfect swell of love that rose in him, no longer so intense it stole his breath or pulled him too tight--he'd given up his heart. She held it safe for him...there was plenty of room now.

"It is a ritual, and I already told you about it." he replied gently, reaching up to capture her hand and enfold it between both of his as he looked into her face. "A while ago...when a weeping angel came to my door."

He shifted his grip on her hand, watching their fingers thread together.

"When mated dragons meet, it's instantaneous and irrevocable--you could lock eyes with someone across a room, someone you've never even met, and that's it. You're done. That's who you're spending the rest of your life with." he explained. "That's why...engagements...they're the same, in your world and mine, you put a ring on it, but it's not immediate. It starts with a...a kind of dance, one with choices you have control over."

He took a deep breath, meeting her gaze again.

"Like the dance the Sky Maker and the Sun Goddess did. Before that was his name...when he had none, and lived with the low, crawling things on the earth." he continued, retelling the parable of creation he'd shared with her on that night she'd come all but running to him for comfort, running to him like he was something good and pure that could keep the shadows at bay.

"But, he came to love a being of pure light--the Sun Goddess. He courted her with gifts, like oceans and fish and all the animals that could feed upon the plants and flowers he made her...things he made her from the dirt."

Like the dirt in the pendant he'd given her.

"But the Sun Goddess, she didn't say yes right away." Neil reminded her, and only then would Regina likely feel the finest tremor run through the hand that clung to hers. "And the Sky Maker, he didn't take no for an answer. So...the world began down in the dirt, where a man fell in love. The first token of betrothal is earth, taken from somewhere important. The next is stone or wood, for the trees and the mountains the Sky Maker made, given in front of a witness to represent his creation of the human race. The final token is the ring...but the courtship doesn't continue until you reject the first token--give it back to me."

[fondofapples]

While he spoke, her head tilted farther and farther to the right; likewise, her gaze narrowed, although not in anger, so much as perplexity. He'd told her the story before, but then it had been just a story. An important part of his traditions, to be sure, but she'd not understood it to be the foundation of a ritual of courtship. Not exactly.

Her lips pursed at the tremble in his fingers. She glanced down at their joined hands then back up at his eyes. It occurred to her, slowly, ponderously slowly, that he was afraid, even though he'd given her his heart already. It would've been cruel to smile at that emotion, but her lips did curve at the memory of her trying to explain why love was so terrifying. It seemed he understood now.

But her own fear rose in the wake of that little smile. "You meant it when you said betrothal." Engagement. Marriage. Them. Her. Again. "Neil...heart of my heart, I love you. You know I love you. But I can't..." She shook her head and lowered their hands--but only so she could move closer, feel him nearer. "I don't want to be married again. I don't want to be perceived as a man's trophy, or give up my power... And before you say anything, I know. I know it wouldn't be like that with us. But I can't..."

She inhaled hard, quelling her own panic, and then released that breath again. "I want to be with you. Forever and always. But this...I murdered my husband, Neil. I'm not sure I should have another."

Still, some small, quiet, buried part of her was trying to light up, to leap for joy. She wet her lips, tilted her head again, this time to smile a little, encouragingly. "But, if I gave you this token back...you would have to keep trying to convince me. Is that right?"

[hellorhighwater]

"Not have to. Want to." he corrected, feeling a wistful little pang at her response. Sure, she wasn't running screaming, but...damn it, he'd hoped.

But he let it go--he knew how now. Dahgo: no hope, no expectation, no limitation.

"It's not a 'yes or no' question, Regina." he assured her. "That's what this ritual's about, it's a choice--not one you make right away. It's about being sure, so sure you take time to think and prepare, so sure that you can wait for an answer that may never come. It changes nothing between us if you keep that forever. It'll always be a reminder of where and how we began--a reminder that I love you. But at the same time..."

He trailed off, dropping his gaze with a small, shy smile.

"I wanna marry you. I wanna be your husband--I want a whole day where all we do is celebrate how much we love each other, where we get to shout it from the roofs or whisper it into the air, however we want. I want you to have a whole day for yourself that's...everything you never got to have when you fell in love before. I want..."

He trailed off, then gave up and took one of her hands, laying it against the left side of his chest, over the space where his heart used to be, pressing it there with both of his hands.

"I know you don't...fully understand this. How a man can be alive without his heart--how you alone can feel it beat, you alone can pull it from my chest because it's literally in your hands now. Think of this as a physical representation of that. You got my hopes and dreams in your hands. Keep them for yourself, safe for the rest of our lives so no one can shatter 'em...or give me everything I hope for, everything I dream of by giving it back to me."

Releasing her hand, he grinned, spreading his arms.

"Either way? I win. Dahgo...and even if you never marry me? You got something you can wrap your head around better--something you can touch every day and carry to remind you that I'm yours forever."

[fondofapples]

"Right, but that's what I'm asking." It was hard not to smile, even glow at him, when he talked like that, so she didn't try very hard.

Instead, she stepped close enough to kiss him slow and softly, and arranged herself between his thighs with her shoulder pressed to his chest and the pendant in her hand. She studied it, and him, with the chain draped over his thigh, as if it announced the connection they already had and presaged the one they were speaking of.

"I want you to keep asking. Even if I don't know if I'll ever say yes," she offered, quiet as a confession. "I want to have the choice tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow, in case it stops feeling like something I shouldn't have, because I want to give this to you, if it's what you want. I'm just...not sure I'm ever going to be ready."

She glanced up at him, dark eyes shimmering with emotion. "So, how do I get that?"

[hellorhighwater]

For a second he just watched her, let the shimmer of light and love in her eyes fill him with endless, expanding warmth, let it pull him a little deeper into the gloriously inescapable pit that was loving her. He let her explain, let it happen--because he didn't understand it, not really, but he wanted to. That was a struggle, sometimes, breaching both cultural and personal barriers until they both learned enough to figure it out...

...maybe it was a sign that they were getting better at it, because as it sat in his head, as she asked that question--it took a couple more moments, but he got it.

At least, he thought he did.

"Simple." he decided after a moment. Letting his hand fall to settle over hers, it slid forward, fingers tangling in the chain of the pendant sitting across his thigh. "You're not ready to give it back to me? Then..."

He tugged, lightly, making his intention clear before he said it out loud.

"...I take it back." he declared, bending his head to press his forehead to hers with a smile. "And I give it to you again in the morning. And I do it every single day--unless you stop me, because you wanna give it back yourself. And when you're ready to keep going? We'll do it again with the next token."

Shifting to kiss her, he grinned against her mouth as it broke.

"Every day. Nalatho spada--forever." He paused, blinking a little as his brow furrowed. "Well...literally translated, 'a good way to spend eternity,' but...know what? Shutting up now."

[fondofapples]

Regina reveled in the kiss, in the love crashing over her like a tidal wave. She leaned into him and his grin, brighter than the brightest star, slipped her fingers into his hair and held his mouth to hers even though he'd started talking--sometimes it was a defense mechanism against his "stupid," but today it was just a desire.

"It's not a bad way to spend eternity," she murmured, but then looked up at him, eyes shining with mischief and smoldering with passion. "But I can think of better."

But she decided, even then, that she would give him back the pendant--tomorrow morning. The first step, her desire to have him for her husband, was there. Had always been there. The others, deserving it, accepting it, not fearing it, those would take a little longer. But if she gave him back the first, it would give him hope and feed their dreams, and make it less fraught and more fun, even if it was a courtship and not a marriage forever.

[hellorhighwater]

As he pulled the chain from her fingers, as she gave him that familiar, wicked look full of heat and pure light, Neil could feel that eventuality. Tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after...

She would give it back to him. She would say 'yes' when he eventually gave her that ring.

She was it.

He raised an eyebrow at her suggestion, failing to hide a smile against her mouth before stealing another quick kiss.

"You can, huh?" he drawled, pretending to mull that over for a beat. "Well, maybe you--what's the expression?...maybe you can share with the rest of the class. Y'know."

And, as he drew back just a little, he raised his free hand to imitate the gestures that comprised her teleportation spell.

"Somewhere more comfortable?"

[fondofapples]

Regina arched an eyebrow at him and made some non-magical gestures to imitate his, like this, really?, but the gestures ended with a very crude and easily decipherable suggestion. Under normal circumstances, said gesture might have been a kiss-off, but under this one, it was more of a promise.

Eyes sparkling, she leaned in to kiss him, and then because she could, wrapped her legs around him and hopped up. From there, she cast the teleportation spell and kissed him as the magic rose up to slither around them and douse them in the cool, purple smoke.

[hellorhighwater]

"Fuck you, too." he laughed as she made a rude gesture while playfully mocking his attempt to demonstrate part of her teleportation spell. It was a promise he made good on, easily catching her as she hopped into his lap, legs wrapped around his waist, mouth on his in the midst of her spell.

When the purple smoke dissipated, and he was sitting on the edge of their bed instead of a barrel, and they were safely ensconced in their bedroom rather than outside under the sun, he grinned against her mouth and lay back, tugging her down over him with an arm around her waist.

"...and three...and four...and five..." he continued between kisses. "Gotta stop me some time, else I'm just gonna fuck you all day."

[fondofapples]

"At the risk of being repetitive, I can think of worse ways to spend the day."

She didn't give him a chance to respond, though, before she was kissing him with considerably more heat and intention. He couldn't just go half-proposing to her and then expect her to be all normal and playful.

Even if she was happy, she couldn't stop hearing and seeing all of her failures. He owed it to her to shut them up by the most pleasurable, most expedient means. Before she got manic and panicky and, oh look, too late.

"In all seriousness, Neil," she finally said, voice rough and raw with rollicking emotions. "It's time to be naked. If you want to do it the old-fashioned way, start now. Otherwise, magic."

[hellorhighwater]

It was surreal, how much that hungry, single minded kiss reminded him of the night they first met, the kiss she demanded of him...and the unfiltered feeling in her voice reminded him of the moment that preceded it when she scolded him for his lack of fear after she'd ripped his heart from his body.

He'd touched a nerve that night, and had no idea how to handle it, how to fit together her broken pieces without cutting himself or assembling the picture wrong. All he could do was hoard them, collect each one and store it away within himself until somehow the pile miraculously shifted and settled until it was all in order again.

Some days, it still felt like that, like he was going to get it wrong. He had more to lose, every day his love deepened, by screwing up.

So he sat up again, holding her steady in his lap with an arm around her waist, and once he was up let her go to grab the back of his shirt with both hands, tugging it up and off over his head.

She wanted him to push the past away, the old mistakes and shadows, with his body--a thing he would do gladly, a thing he would revel in--but he took a moment to slow it down, to pause by wadding up his shirt and pitching it across the room before he took her face between his hands. He gave himself that moment to look into her eyes, to make her look into his and see the present, the future instead of that dreaded past.

Then he drew her in, ghosting his lips over that tiny scar on her mouth that he adored before he gave her the kiss she wanted: deep, hard, filthy mating thrusts of his tongue as his hands fell to her shoulders, then started the work of getting her shirt off in turn.