She stood and inched closer to Mirele, her hand hovering over Mirele's mark.
And then she fell to her knees in front of Mirele, her forehead pressed against hir stomach and her hands at Mirele's sides, one against the mark and the other on the scar. Shahira sobbed and sobbed, saying things Mirele could not understand through the choked cries.
Mirele was at a loss. Whatever reaction ze had expected, or feared more like, this was not it. Ze didn't know how to react to this, to Shahira crying on her knees in front of hir. "Shahira?" Ze whispered, afraid of how Shahira would answer.
Shahira pulled away and stood, her hand reaching up to trace patterns on hir cheek. "When?" Some emotion Mirele couldn't recognize flickered in her eyes.
"Five years ago," Mirele answered. "Before I became your Guardian." Pulling at Shahira's hand, Mirele led them back to the bed and sat beside her, their fingers laced together.
"Can you tell me what happened?" Shahira's voice was soft. "If you feel comfortable doing so, of course." She looked away. "Though I guess you're already uncomfortable."
"It's all right." Mirele assured her. "You deserve the truth, and I've never spoken about this with anyone. Perhaps it will do me some good." Ze breathed in a deep breath and hoped hir heart would stop thumping so quickly inside hir chest.
"Are you sure?"
Mirele nodded. "As you know, I used to be a dragonslayer, quite a good one. I was sent to kill a dragon in the eastern part of the kingdom. Accompanying me was a wizard named Hikmat. It depends on the dragon, but usually, only one or two, maybe three, dragonslayers are sent, accompanied by a wizard. I thought that this dragon would be a little thing." Ze scoffed. "How wrong I was."
Shahira gave hir hand a squeeze, waiting for hir to continue.
"It was an elder dragon," Mirele said. Even saying the name of the beast sent a shudder down hir side, where hir burn was. "I can still see its golden scales and claws and great wings, still feel its fire." Ze saw it most nights when ze slept. "I died that day," ze stated, staring blankly ahead. "By this burn."
"Spirits," Shahira choked out. Her free hand traced the flawed skin of Mirele's side, barely touching it. "But you came back."
"Yes." Mirele shut hir eyes. Resurrection was not a pleasant experience. "It was as if someone had ripped me from an icy lake and forced air into my lungs. But I am alive." Ze huffed. "If you could call this being alive." Mirele ran a hand down hir face, wiping away the tears that welled in hir eyes. "Burning brightly in my mind was my new purpose in life and the image of who had resurrected me. All of the knowledge of my new state of life was imbued in me. Hikmat resurrected me, at great risk to herself." Hir hand tightened into a fist. "Yet there she was, dead on the ground, as if the life had been sucked out of her and given to me."
"She died?" Shahira's face filled with horror.
"To create an Arisen is to put yourself at great risk. You either shave years off of your lifespan or die. This is also what touches an Arisen with magic. I can do very, very basic magic, but that is it."
Shahira pulled Mirele closer, and ze ended up lying in bed next to her, hir legs tangled with hers. Mirele marveled at the contrast between hir lighter, freckled skin and Shahira's much darker complexion.
"I killed the elder dragon and made my way to the closest city," Mirele murmured. "I carried Hikmat on my back. She deserved a proper burial, not to be left out in a field."
"You mentioned that you knew what your purpose was," Shahira gently said. "Arisen die if they fail their purpose, don't they?"
Mirele nodded. "If our purpose is threatened, our mark flares with pain. That is how I knew you were in danger."
"How you knew I was in danger?" Shahira knitted her brows together, confused, until comprehension dawned on her face.
"My purpose is protecting you," Mirele whispered. "I live for you."
And there it was, all out in the open.
Shahira drew Mirele's face near and pressed a soft kiss on hir lips. "I can't even imagine how hard it must have been to tell me that," she murmured. "Thank you for trusting me."
"You're not terrified of me?" Hir heart leapt at the possibility.
She gave a tiny, lopsided smile. "No, silly. I could never be scared of you, wonderful you." Another kiss and Shahira nuzzled closer, sighing happily.
For the first time in a very long while, Mirele felt light, like the weight on hir chest had finally disappeared. They lay in bed, as close as possible to each other, murmuring sweet nothings and sharing soft kisses for so long that Mirele lost track of the time until an errant thought popped into hir head.
Blushing and biting hir lip, ze looked away, unsure how to vocalize the thoughts that ran through hir head. "You're very red, Mirele," Shahira said. A wide grin spread across her lips.
"I, ah," Mirele stammered. "Could we continue, um, where we left off? Earlier?"
The brows on Shahira's face rose. "Are you sure? We don't have to, you know. Are you comfortable with it?"
"I want to," Mirele said, placing hir hand on Shahira's cheek. "If you're okay with it, I mean. I don't promise to be any good because—"
Shahira placed a finger on Mirele's lips, effectively cutting hir off. "You're blabbering, darling. We'll take things slow. There's no need to be nervous." She smiled, and Mirele saw the raw affection that shined in her eyes.
"Do you accept me, Shahira?" Mirele asked. It was such an archaic thing to say, but Mirele didn't know how else to act in hir situation.
Smiling brilliantly, Shahira answered, "I do, always."
Ze leaned over to kiss her fully and deeply, trying to pour as much love into hir actions so Shahira could know.
As dawn's early light filtered in through the window, Mirele traced hir finger down Shahira's bare back and reflected that, for once, ze was truly happy. Happy enough to even be able to ignore the doubts in hir head.
III
Shahira had reached a decision in the past week, but would say nothing of it to Mirele, despite hir protests. Yet Mirele could truly say nothing because ze still had not told Shahira of hir doubts concerning the validity of hir feelings.
Those doubts had slowly eroded away the happiness that Mirele felt at being with Shahira. Hir mood had soured through the week, and Shahira had noticed, asking frequently if something was wrong. Mirele continued to answer in the negative, bottling it up because Shahira had something much more important to worry about than hir feelings.
Foolish, foolish. Mirele berated hirself over and over as ze dressed. Leon had managed to convince Duke Marcus Boulos to see them, but only him, Lucia, and Shahira. Mirele was only permitted to come due to hir position as Guardian.
Why couldn't ze tell Shahira? Ze had already told her that ze was an Arisen, and Shahira had still chosen to be with hir. Hir current worries seemed so foolish, yet ze could not shake them.
What if hir feelings weren't genuine at all? What if they were a part of being bound to Shahira? Some way to make hir care even more about protecting her?
"Damn it! Damn it all." Mirele slammed hir fist against the nearby wall as ze leaned on the table. Tears began to fall down their cheeks, and for once, ze didn't stop them. "Why can't I just have this?" Ze wondered, hir throat tight. "Why must I be constantly worrying that my love for her isn't true?" Ze hit the wall again, softer this time. "Damn it."
"Mirele?"
Shahira's voice made Mirele snap hir head up and turn around, hir expression full of guilt and shame. "Shahira! I—" Ze looked at hir reddening fist. "I'm sorry."
"Hey. It's okay," she whispered as she neared hir, brushing the tears off hir face. "Why are you crying? What's wrong? And please answer me this time." Her face fell slightly as she added in a timid voice, "Did I do something to hurt you?"
"No!" Never that. Never her.
"If not me, then what? Don't say it's nothing," Shahira begged. "Please, tell me. Part of being together is communicating. It goes both ways."
"I love you," Mirele choked out through hir tears.
>
The worry vanished from Shahira's features and smoothed into softness, affection in her eyes. She pressed a kiss to Mirele's cheek. "I know," she whispered. "I love you too, darling. Why the tears?"
"You know?" She loves me back?
"I do," she said. "You're special to me, Mirele, so please, talk to me."
"I don't know if my love is real," ze said, unable to look Shahira in the eye.
"What do you mean? How could it not be real?"
"Because I am bound to protect you—that is my purpose in life. Because I have loved you since I met you. Because what if my love is only to further incentivize me to keep you safe? What if—" Any further words were cut off by hir sobs. Mirele hated this, hated being so weak. Ze was supposed to be strong, wasn’t ze?
"Oh, Mirele," Shahira breathed. "Your love is real. I know it is."
"Maybe you deserve someone who is sure of hir love for you." The words escaped Mirele before ze could think twice.
"No." Shahira's voice took on a hard edge. "None of that."
"I apologize. I'm sorry."
"Shhh." Shahira continued to wipe the tears from Mirele's face. "I know your love for me is real, and to me, it doesn’t quite matter whether it was borne of your purpose or came about organically. It’s here, it exists. That’s what matters. Not where it came from," she whispered. "And it makes us happy. That is what’s important, yes?"
Mirele didn't quite believe her but nodded anyway. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay. Please though, don't keep things to yourself next time. I can't help or fix things if I don't know what's wrong in the first place." She then leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to Mirele's lips.
Mirele returned the kiss in kind and broke away to hold Shahira close. Talking had not completely alleviated hir doubts, but it had helped. Perhaps only time would help.
"Now, let's clean you up," Shahira said as she fetched Mirele's cape, dyed the vivid violet of the royal family and emblazoned with their silver and gold heraldry. Mirele made a note to thank Leon for finding them such fine clothes to wear as ze fingered the hem of hir doublet. Hir blade hung at hir side, meticulously cleaned and maintained. Ze also briefly wondered where Leon had managed to procure pins of illusion, powerful enough to obscure not only a person’s face, but even their clothing and body shape for an indefinite amount of time.
Shahira brought the cape around Mirele's shoulders and fastened its two long hanging pieces into a knot. Mirele didn't look down at the knot, but ze knew it to be one signifying the ownership of a vassal. The particular knot ze wore was one reserved for those in the service of the royal family. "Do you accept me, Mirele?" Shahira asked, echoing the question Mirele had asked a week prior.
Eyes widening a fraction, Mirele nodded. "I do, always," ze echoed back.
"Good." Shahira's eyes shined. "I love you so much, you know that?"
"And I love you in kind," Mirele replied, also smiling.
They quickly exited the room and headed in the direction of the duke's residence. It was not far thankfully, and they made good time. Mirele tried to ignore the stares hir cape attracted from people.
As they entered the meeting room, they found Leon and Lucia already there. Duke Boulos sat in his chair on one side of the room, flanked by guards, while Leon stood in front of him, speaking. Lucia hung to the back, clearly waiting for them.
"There you…" Lucia turned to greet them, falling silent for a moment when she saw them. "Are. Glad you're finally here." She beckoned her head towards the duke. "Have at him, Your Highness."
As Shahira walked to the other side of the room, Lucia turned to face Mirele, the largest and most wicked grin on her face. Mirele cautiously took a step back, fully aware of what that grin meant. Ze was not going to like whatever came out of Lucia's mouth next. "What?"
"Like you don't know."
"No, I really don't," Mirele replied, keeping hir voice low. "What are you on about?"
"Look at your knot, Guardian," Lucia said simply.
Mirele's brows furrowed. "My knot?" Ze looked down and forgot how to breathe. The knot that kept hir cape closed was not the knot of ownership of a vassal. No, it was a knot of a very different kind of ownership.
"So when's the wedding?" Lucia smirked, her good eye twinkling with mischief. "Winter is pretty much here, so I think you should tell the good princess to wait for spring."
It was a knot of marriage, signifying hir as someone's spouse. Specifically, it was the knot that couples tied at weddings. Coupled with the royal cape ze wore, it designated hir as a spouse to a member of the royal family.
Shahira's spouse.
"Oh, spirits." Mirele looked up at Shahira, whose back was faced towards them.
"Since this is evidently a surprise to you," Lucia began, "what did she say when she tied the knot?"
"She asked if I accepted her," Mirele whispered. "But I thought she was only repeating what I had asked when we—" Ze abruptly stopped talking.
"How was she?"
"Lucia!" Mirele hissed, elbowing her. Lucia just snickered.
"I jest, I jest." Lucia's face clearly said otherwise. "But she clearly meant something more than just repeating what you said."
"You're right." The entire thing felt so surreal. "I accept, of course. It's all I've ever wanted."
"I'd hit you if you didn't accept," Lucia said, snorting. "They're going to be a while, aren't they?"
"Unfortunately, in all likelihood," Mirele replied, hir head still spinning.
"Care to tell me now why you can do magic when you're not a wizard?" Lucia asked, tone quiet and serious.
Mirele sucked in a breath. I told Shahira already. I can do this. I can't be a coward about this anymore. Ze beckoned Lucia closer and whispered in her ear, "I am an Arisen."
Lucia pulled away very slowly and stared. Then she snorted. "Well, damn."
"That is all you have to say in response?" Mirele had somehow expected more.
"Yes," Lucia said. "I'm surprised, believe me, but I never bought into the fear surrounding the Arisen." She shrugged. "But thanks for trusting me enough to tell me, Mirele."
Mirele and Lucia continued to stand in the back of the room while Duke Boulos, Leon, and Shahira continued to speak. Mirele could hardly keep the smile off hir face, something Lucia teased hir about the entire time. Ze didn't know how long they had been there, waiting, but Mirele could see the shadows grow longer through the window. Eventually, Duke Boulos gestured for them to come forward and join him.
"Her Royal Highness has offered a, may I say, risky but clever plan," he began. "She has declined to reclaim the throne for herself."
"What?" Lucia looked over at Shahira. Mirele's brows only rose, and ze said nothing.
Duke Boulos rubbed his graying beard. "Instead she has offered up a replacement, should she accept."
"Who?" Lucia asked. "We need a queen or king that we can trust, not a murdering betrayer."
"You, Ser Lucia Didius," Duke Boulos replied. Lucia? Queen? Mirele's jaw hung open in shock, but ze quickly closed it.
Silence.
For once, Lucia was completely lost for words. Mirele idly thought ze should remember the date. I had hoped that Shahira would not end up queen because that would be the safest option for her, but to name Lucia as queen in her stead?
"What?" Blinking in shock, Lucia opened and closed her mouth several times. "Me. Queen." She fixed Shahira with a blank stare. "Forgive my language, but are you out of your damn mind?"
"You are of noble blood, much higher than Duke Boulos, Duchess Zaman, or any of the other province governors," Shahira explained. "Only you and your brother chose to abandon the life of the nobility. Your parents passed when you were both very young, and your brother is also gone," she said gently. "You are the best option here. Traditionally speaking, you are more than qualified to sit on the throne. I know Mirele can vouch for you, and I have witnessed your bravery firsthand."
"Was this your idea?" Lucia asked Mirele.
"No
t at all. I am just as shocked as you are, my friend," Mirele replied.
Lucia glanced at Leon. He nodded encouragingly. Lucia remained quiet for a while, rubbing her temples.
"Do you accept, Ser Didius?" Duke Boulos eventually asked.
Lucia straightened her back, standing tall, and her hand went to rest on the pommel of her blade. "I accept," she said. "How do you think to pull this off when there are many rumors concerning your survival?"
"Princess Shahira has written this." Duke Boulos held up a bloodstained parchment. Mirele knew not from where the blood came. "A letter from her deathbed. I will proclaim throughout the kingdom that she is dead. Ser Nejem here," he gestured towards Leon, "found her badly injured. She told him of the massacre of her family, how her Guardian was killed. He tried to nurse her back to health but was unsuccessful."
"Why so complicated a plan, Your Highness?" Lucia asked. "I am not doubting our chances of success with this plan, but I’m wondering why you aren’t taking the simple route here. Why don’t you—"
"Because I am selfish," Shahira interrupted. "I want nothing to do with the throne. I never have. Now I have an opportunity to permanently ensure that I never will have to be on it. Of course I am going to take that opportunity. What better way than by faking my own death?"
Mirele had suspected that selfishness might be the reason, but ze hadn’t expected Shahira to so blatantly say it aloud. It was a shallow reason perhaps, but a reason nonetheless. All that mattered in the end was Shahira’s safety, anyway. Judging by the expression on Lucia’s face, she didn’t expect that response either.
Muttering something about dramatics underneath her breath, Lucia ran a hand through her hair. "Damn. Very well. Rumors surround Zaman as it is, so this should be a devastating blow to her. Then all we will need to do is take the castle and kill her."
"That is the plan," Duke Boulos said. "I pledge you my complete support, Your Royal Majesty Lucia Didius." He stood and bowed deeply.
"That is going to take some getting used to," Lucia muttered under her breath.
They arrived back at The Golden Anchor much later in the night. Leon prepared them and the rest of rebels awaiting them there a celebratory round of drinks. As the crowd grew louder—Lucia even taking to singing while Leon played a lute—Shahira tugged on Mirele's hand and led hir upstairs to their room.
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