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Isolde knew well what it was to be alone in her chambers, but even so it took her time to realise she wasn’t alone anymore. In her defence, it was such a familiar presence she thought nothing of it. Reaching the end of a long overcomplicated document, she remembered that that familiarity was no longer safe. The flash of mindless fear subsided; she reassured herself that if something was going to happen it would have happened before she’d known someone else was there. She put away her paperwork with shaking hands and checked the door was locked—which it was. Having extinguished the lights, in the private sanctum of darkness, she told herself that whatever was about to take place she would be able to handle it. A heady mixture of panic, excitement, and hurt was rising in her chest and up into her throat, splintering the numbness to nothing.
She shut the door of the solar behind her.
The bedchamber was no longer an unfamiliar cold echoing cavity; instead it was made warm and small by the glow of the candles. Blue-green light fell from the high windows and Rem, cast like a dream, stood by the bed—unarmoured, hair a mess, clothes crumpled. Although she had clearly been waiting she was tensed ready to flee, like a prey animal cornered by a predator. Isolde’s fractured heart broke anew, only this time there was no burning rush of anger to cauterise the wound. And she desperately wanted it; if only she could be angry it would make everything easier. She was going to cry, gods, she hadn’t let herself cry since they’d left for the Great Council. All that emotion settled in her limbs making them weak and heavy. Her heart was beating too fast, her skin was too tight. She felt as though she was in the moment when a spell had been cast but hadn’t yet caught and she couldn’t possibly contain the inevitable explosion. Then Rem had crossed the room in a blur, crashed into her and held her tightly against her chest.
It felt like a homecoming.
It should have felt like a sin.
Rem was warm and solid in her arms. She smelt of sweat and earth and the ever-present metallic hint of blood. Tension Isolde hadn’t even known she’d been carrying melted away, and it was all she could do to cling to Rem and feel truly safe for the first time in months. The sheer relief of it washed away any guilt, though she knew it would return to poison her later. It scarcely mattered, she almost felt whole again. Eventually Isolde managed to loosen her grip, and immediately Rem’s fingertips were moving very lightly over her face, charting its shape, as tears rolled unchecked down her cheeks. She was exhausted; it was in every line of her body, the way she held herself. There were dark circles under her eyes which held little of their usual light, and her face was so gaunt it was nearly skeletal. Isolde wouldn’t think about why. Gently she wiped the tears away with her thumb.
“Isolde,” Rem brushed her lips against her fingertips. “Isolde,” buried her fingers in her loose hair. “Isolde-” Isolde kissed her for she would surely go mad if Rem said her name one more time.
“Oh, is this…? Is this alright—?” Rem kissed her more deeply, and when they parted Isolde swayed, her head spinning in that oh-so-familiar way.
“It’s worse.” She remarked lightly, clutching at Rem’s shirt so hard her knuckles turned white. Rem opened her mouth, likely to apologise, and Isolde kissed her until she felt she would pass out, until she could barely think for the pain it brought. And Rem, Rem made a surprised sound into her mouth then she surrendered herself. Her hands ran almost frantic over Isolde’s hips, her back, the bared nape of her neck, as if she couldn’t suffer a single moment more in stillness. Isolde broke the kiss, gasping into Rem’s shoulder while the world tilted violently around her. Shadows encroached on her vision. Her face was wet with tears, and somewhat distantly she heard herself laugh.
“You absolute fucking masochist.” Her back pressed against the door, Rem leant over her, smiling. There were tears caught in her eyelashes, but there was a familiar mischief playing about the corner of her mouth. Isolde wanted to consume her and be consumed in turn. Rem would let her, she would indulge her, she always had. She reached out to her mind and found the depthless well of desire and sorrow and guilt and said, “Mm, don’t tell me you don’t like it.”
“‘Course I like it,” Rem’s teeth scraped along the line of her throat “Does it hurt?”
“Yes, my beloved, it hurts.”
Rem smiled against her mouth, then, quite abruptly, “I don’t want you to punish yourself.”
“You left Rem, is that not punishment enough?” She knew the moment the words passed her lips that it was too harsh. The naked hurt and shock on Rem’s face made her want to take them back and choke them down. She had wondered, in sporadic moments of intense emotion, whether Rem was hurting as much as she was. It seemed foolish now to have doubted. Rem sank to her knees and pressed her forehead against Isolde’s abdomen, like a devout at prayer. The simultaneous feelings of unease and satisfaction resonated through Isolde like the plucked string of a harp, with the knowledge that—in all her power—Rem knelt here, before her. Habitually, Isolde threaded her fingers through Rem’s hair. It was dirty and knotted, and when Isolde pressed her fingers against her scalp in little circles Rem made a choked off noise, not unlike a whimper.
“I never meant to hurt you; I never want to hurt you.”
“I know,” then, softer. “It hurts so much.” As though someone had slipped a knife between her ribs and whenever she so much as breathed it opened fresh wounds.
Barely audible Rem said, “I know.”
“What are you doing here? You shouldn’t be here.”
“I wanted to see you,” she took a shuddering breath. “I can leave.”
“You don’t have to.”
Rem took the hem of Isolde’s skirt and worried it between her fingers. “I should.”
“I won’t keep you here.”
Isolde let Rem take her hand from her hair and kiss her knuckles, kiss her wrist. She glanced up, seeking permission. Isolde could refuse her—refuse herself. Break both their hearts now, and maybe it would be for the best. It would hurt more to allow anything else. But she was weak, and she wanted to be selfish.
“I won’t make you leave either.”
Rem held her gaze, then slowly began undoing the ties of her dress. She took her time and carefully hung each layer up. Her touch lingered for longer than necessary, and Isolde was briefly overwhelmed with the understanding that she hadn’t just been numb; she had been frozen without her. Rem shook out the nightdress that had been folded at the end of the bed for the best part of the month and let Isolde kiss her chastely as she tied the ribbon. Isolde slipped her hands under Rem’s shirt, felt her muscles tense beneath her palms, and counted the dips and ridges of her ribcage.
“Ticklish.” Rem said in the voice of one who had just remembered their greatest weakness. Isolde wrapped her arms around her waist and pressed a kiss to her throat.
“Do you want anything to eat? Drink?”
“No, I’ve just got past the cravings. Easier not to.”
Isolde undressed her in turn, folded her clothes neatly on top of the chest. Rem’s body had changed very little; there were no new scars or swirling dark magic beneath her skin, her body was not that of a skeleton, not that Isolde had particularly expected any visible changes. She passed her the old, soft shirt from its place on the pillows.
“Smells of you.”
“You’re not keeping it.” Isolde said evenly, her heart afeard Rem would take it from her. Rem pouted, exaggerated and childish, and Isolde laughed despite herself.
“My love, I wouldn’t dare steal your belongings. I would, however, steal a kiss—”
“You can’t steal something if it is freely given.” Rem interlaced their fingers and brushed her lips against Isolde’s knuckles.
“Come on, bed. You shouldn’t be working so late.”
The candles in the room extinguished and for a brief moment the room was washed in the blue-green light of the cavern, then Rem swished the bed curtains shut. Soft arcane lights glowed from the canopy of the bed, and if she couldn’t feel Rem settling into her side Isolde would assume it was another overwrought dream.
They spoke quietly of their love, of their memories; the little restaurant in Faelyn that they visited when they first met, missions they had run together, climbing up the mountain to watch meteors burn bright in the sky. They submerged themselves in the safety of the past. Until Rem whispered into her hair, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Something almost akin to anger sparked in Isolde’s chest. “Do not apologise to me. Not for this. Not if you don’t mean it.”
“I do. I’m sorry our love caused you so much pain, I’m sorry I hurt you.”
“Until ruination I shall love thee—” Isolde said, aware it wasn’t the time for poetry.
Rem brushed her knuckles over her cheekbone. “If you would ever forgive me—”
“I will, not yet but for all my sins I will forgive you. Would you prefer if I hated you, my love?”
“It would be easier,” Rem admitted softly. “But I couldn’t bear it.”
Feeling as though she was pushing aside her ribs to reveal the truth of her heart, Isolde breathed, “I don’t know if I could truly hate you.”
Something flickered across Rem’s face too quickly for Isolde to identify. “If…if I asked you to leave…?”
“No. This is my home, Rem. These people—our people—need me. I won’t abandon them. I made a choice. You made a choice.”
In a moment the small space between them became a gaping chasm, the air suddenly fraught with everything they’d been so desperately trying to avoid. A question caught in Isolde’s throat, something she’d thought about for weeks. It had been the first thing she’d thought, sitting on the stone floor with phantom pains of severance in her soul, when Kara had told her Nerull was dead.
“I did. That was a stupid fucking thing to say, gods know you’re impossible to dissuade once you’ve made up your mind.”
The question fell away easily, and she said, “Somebody once said that it’s one of the most annoying things about me.”
“They did. I think they also said they loved that about you.”
It wasn’t until the lights had dimmed to nothing and they were blanketed in the rich velvety darkness Isolde found the courage to ask.
“How did it feel?”
“How did what feel?”
“To kill your father?”
Rem laughed, sharp, leaning towards hysterical. Isolde ran her fingers down Rem’s spine and pressed herself so close she could feel Rem’s borrowed heart beating a frantic rhythm against her ribs.
“I was so scared it wouldn’t be good. I thought it might feel hollow or I’d regret it, but-” she laughed again and this time it broke on a sob. “It felt so good, I’ve waited so many lifetimes to kill him and avenge my siblings and all those who died needlessly for his bloodlust. All that weight is gone now. He’s gone.”
Isolde kissed her forehead, the tip of her nose, her lips. She couldn’t speak the word godkiller. She couldn’t explain how it made her feel; the giddy second hand elation, the fear, the Doubt. Rem would understand without words.
So instead she kissed her fiercely, and said, “He is dead. We still live.”
Rem sat up pulling Isolde into her lap, and her hands, strong and calloused were warm through the thin fabric of her nightdress. Rem took a handful of her hair and trailed her hot, wet mouth down her throat. Isolde pressed her mouth to the tip Rem’s ear and Rem shuddered. A sound, almost a whine, escaped her lips.
“Isolde,” Rem spoke her name in reverence, as if it were something sacred. “I’ll do anything.”
And Isolde knew, because she had known Rem for decades, that she didn’t mean I’ll stop this, or I’ll tell you everything, she meant let me do penance for what I’m doing, what I’ve done.
With an intense surge of disappointment Isolde realised the idea of indulging in the way Rem was asking was uninteresting. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to, only that she wanted it in a way that had nothing to do with her body’s desire. Which was more than a little frustrating; it would have been so convenient, so freeing to lose herself in Rem, if she could drown in her and not think about what it would mean, to just let it ground her in the present. Momentarily, Isolde considered ignoring her disinterest in favour of letting Rem do whatever it was that she wanted, but she knew from experience it would likely be underwhelming, and overwhelming in all the wrong ways. Besides she wouldn’t be able to hide it from Rem for much longer.
She coaxed Rem’s head up and kissed her sweetly. “I’m tired, love.”
“Yeah,” Rem said between kisses. “Me too. Oh, wait you meant…”
“Unless you want me to—”
“No, not really. I’m sorry, I should have realised.”
“I’m not adverse, Rem, just indifferent. And tired and you,” she found herself smiling. “Are occasionally quite exhausting.”
“Only occasionally?”
“Often.”
Rem could see her, she realised, and all Isolde could see was the shadow of her in the darkness. She wondered how Rem looked at her when she couldn’t see, if it was still soft, or if there was distance now or something worse.
“Oh,” Rem’s hands found her face, and if she could just quiet her mind and exist in the moment it would be perfect. But now all she could think was that their paths were no longer one, and maybe they would never meet again. Rem was here with her but it wouldn’t change anything, all her devotion to fate and she’d never once known what she might do. If this was it, then all she’d remember was that she couldn’t treasure this moment, that she didn’t dare reach for the lights in fear of-
“Here.” Rem tugged her down and wrapped the covers tightly around them, and she pulled Isolde close. It was so much better than wrapping herself in a quilt in the dark and hoping it would calm her. Nothing could compare to the comfort of a beloved body. Rem’s long limbs wrapped around her in a mirror of their usual sleeping arrangement, and Isolde realised how shallow her breath was. All these months she had felt nothing but a couple of hours in Rem’s company and everything had unravelled. Rem took her hand and pressed it to her chest as she took deep steadying breaths.
When she was certain her voice wouldn’t break she said, “I love you.”
“I love you.” Rem echoed, low and warm.
“Don’t leave when I’m sleeping. Please.”
“I promise.”
It wasn’t yet dawn, blue-green mushroom light shone weakly through the crack in the bed curtains. Isolde had been caught in uhtceare enough times to know the exact space between true night and when the torches slowly began to flare to life. Rem had dressed and brought coffee. Now they both sat on the edge of the bed, their fingers interlinked on the covers between them.
“I need to leave.”
Isolde hummed in assent. There had never been any hope of keeping her; she knew she would only ever be able to hold Rem briefly.
“I adore you,” Rem said, her voice somewhat pathetic. “I love you, my beloved—”
“I love you.” Isolde echoed because it was the only clear thought in the sudden awful emptiness in her mind and in her chest, other than you can’t leave me, not again.
“May I kiss you?”
As if she’d refuse. “Yes.”
Rem kissed her softly and lingered. When she pulled away Isolde dragged her back down and kissed her more deeply. She savoured the softness of her skin, the shape of her jaw, the curve of her back, and the way her head spun, the unnaturalness of it, not knowing when or if she would ever feel it again.
“I love you,” Rem said breathlessly. “I love you so desperately, so…so—there are times I look at you and I can’t believe you would even speak to me, let alone love me or let me love you. And this—sometimes it terrifies me, it feels so much I can’t even attempt to speak of it, it’ll just consume me if I try. I love you as the seas love the moon, you are the very air in my lungs, you have my soul. I don’t know what I would have become without you. You mean too much to lose, I can’t…I can’t lose you, beloved,” she took a moment and tried to compose herself. “If I never see you again-”
“Don’t Rem.” She couldn’t think of that. If Rem lost her life Isolde knew would feel it, as if someone had reached into her and ripped her soul apart. She didn’t know if she would survive.
“After this I hope,” Rem pressed a kiss to each of her fingers. “We will see each other again, and you won’t be determined to hate me for the rest of your life.”
“I hope not.”
“I’ll miss you. I’ll be thinking about you until I see you again. I’ll be thinking about you for as long as I exist.”
Part of Isolde wished she’d refused her last night, let her leave quietly and broken their hearts quickly and cleanly instead of allowing it to become even more of a mess. It had been a bad decision, she had known that, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. When she cupped Rem’s face and pressed their foreheads together, Rem placed her hands gently over Isolde’s. “Go then. I’ll keep you in my heart.”
“I’ll keep you in mine.”
Rem tilted her head a little to kiss the inside of her wrist, then with great effort let go of Isolde’s hands. Then she wasn’t there. Isolde, skin still buzzing from Rem’s lips, her heart shattering in her chest, straightened her back and began preparing herself for another day.