#have a sweepy.... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

eskawrites · 1 year ago

Text

i sat down to write and, well, i, um. tenlark.

It takes Moss a while to speak with them again.

There are the initial conversations, of course. The way she sobbed out apologies as Tenar took her into her arms and hugged her fiercely. The confessions that came from a bed in the ward as healers and mages took turns examining her, making sure both her body and her mind would remain free of infection.

But then there was silence. Her entire being muted as she trudged through the castle halls with them, going through the motions, the now-routine agenda that followed a war. Check in with the staff at the ward. Rebuild the cobbled streets and castle walls that were torn down in the attack. Organize aid to the outer villages, open halls to house and feed the citizens whose livelihoods became collateral damage. Meetings and orders and days upon days spent lending a helping hand.

Except people shied away from Moss’s help. Most wouldn’t even approach her unless she was standing beside the rest of them. So she stood silently in the background, head bowed, helping Lark and Tenar and Arren and Ged so they could help the others. And at the end of each day, she slinks off alone, shoulders hunched as she drifts off into the shadows of the castle.

But the last time Lark left her alone for too long, she’d been taken from them. So she follows Moss, pesters her with her near-constant presence and her weak attempts at lightening the mood. It doesn’t matter. Moss knows why she lingers, and so she lets her stay. They still don’t speak, but they spend the long hours of the night lying on blankets they’ve piled in front of the hearth. Lark listens to Moss’s breathing and watches the glow of the fire dance across the ceiling, pretending like she’s looking up at a canopy of leaves and a starry sky, as if everything was that simple again.

Ged is stressed.

It’s not unusual for him. He deals with nerves by burying himself in the library, foregoing sleep and food and drink in favor of research. So when the mages start to whisper of him staying at his desk for days on end, no one is particularly surprised.

What’s surprising is the anger.

“I’m not angry,” he says when Lark gives him a questioning look after he slams a tome onto the table they’ve been sitting at.

“Call it what you want, Ged, but that,” she gestures to his face—the furrow in his brow, the shadows beneath his eyes, the clench of his jaw that looks so out of place on him, “is not the look of a kid who is at peace.”

“I’m not a kid,” he snaps.

“Right. And definitely not angry, either.”

“You don’t get to patronize me, Lark. After everything else, don’t sit there and act like I have no right to be—and definitely don’t act like I’m some dumb kid who doesn’t—just don’t, okay?”

Lark bites her cheek, hard. Ged isn’t looking at her. He crosses his arms over his chest and turns away, giving her a moment to swallow the heated retort that springs to mind first. She breathes instead.

Ged isn’t angry. He gets it from Arren, she knows, but even Arren has his moods.

Maybe Ged is simply overdue.

“You’re not a kid anymore,” she says. She aims for gentle, but exhaustion seeps into her tone instead. It’s better than something mean, at least. “And you’ve never been a dumb kid. We both know that.”

“No, I’m not. But all of you act like—like I’m just here to do everything, to handle everything. Like I can just help save the day and move on like none of it happened!”

She frowns. “No one expects that, Ged.”

“Don’t you? Because you—and after everything, you all just keep—I saw you die, Lark, do you realize that? I watched you get thrown from that tower, and I thought you were dead.”

“That was years ago—”

“And this time—Tenar, she just—you weren’t there when she was fighting Vecna. None of you were, I had to protect her, and she just kept putting herself in danger, willingly—”

“Ged—”

“She was trying to destroy herself!” He spins around, finally facing her. “Do you even know what that felt like? She would have killed herself to stop him, and I had to sit there and let her while also trying to keep her alive! And I didn’t know if you and Arren had found Moss, and I didn’t know if we could get her back even if you found her, and I didn’t know if we would win or what would happen if I did let Tenar die and—and—”

He cuts off in a sob as Lark pulls him close. She hugs him tight, keeping him upright as he trembles against her.

“I’m tired, Lark,” Arren whispers late one night, sitting out on the balcony of his room and staring up at the sky.

Me too, she doesn’t say. She sighs and scoots closer, offering her shoulder for him to slump against. He does, like she knew he would. She lifts her hand and runs her fingers through his hair.

“We’re getting through it,” she says. “It’s hard, and it hurts, but we’ll make it.”

“Since when did you become the optimist?” His voice shakes, and she wraps her arms fully around him, squeezing him gently and letting him know it’s okay to let go, with her.

But she doesn’t answer his question. She’s not, really. It’s just that…someone has to be.

“Lark.”

Lark sits up a little taller at the sound of Tenar’s voice. Even in the dark, even calling so gently, all the edge softened by the shadows cast by the lanterns lighting the armory, it compels her to attention. But when she turns, Tenar’s expression is just as soft, bidding her to relax again.

“Your Highness,” Lark says anyway. Tenar’s smile turns wry.

“Don’t do that,” she says as she crosses the room. She comes up behind Lark, placing her hands on her shoulders and peering over her head at the arrows scattered across the table. “You give our fletcher a run for his money.”

Lark snorts. “Hardly. My shoddy, self-taught work is only passable at the best of times.”

Tenar reaches around her and picks one of the arrows up. She twists it between her fingers, inspecting the fletching. It’s uniform enough—Lark can admit that much; she’s never made an arrow that won’t fly true—but it’s far from pretty work.

“I’d say it’s impressive, given that you haven’t slept in a day and a half.”

“Have you hired someone to tail me, Princess?”

Tenar lifts her free hand to Lark’s hair and gives it a gentle tug. Lark huffs, not sure if it’s a sigh or a laugh.

“Sorry,” she says anyway. Tenar hums and shifts her hand to run her fingers gently through Lark’s hair.

“To answer your question, no. It would be a waste of gold—I pay too much attention to you myself.”

It makes her cheeks flush. Years of falling for Tenar, and weeks, now, of being caught by her, and she still doesn’t know what to do with this affection.

Tenar sets the arrow back down and brings her other hand to her hair. Lark closes her eyes and tilts her head back into the touch. The sigh is involuntary, and she would be embarrassed if Tenar’s soft laugh didn’t follow it.

“I have a favor to ask of you,” Tenar whispers.

“Of course.”

“No,” she says gently. “Not of course. Only if it pleases you.”

“Whatever you want of me, I will do it.”

“Oh, I know.”

She feels lips against her hairline, and then Tenar is moving. Lark opens her eyes to see her walking around her chair and hopping up onto the table. She reaches out, and Lark gives her her hand without hesitation.

“You do whatever any of us ask, without hesitation.” Tenar cradles Lark’s hand in hers, running her fingers over her palm. Lark shivers. “You took on the entire kingdom without question, and you hadn’t even realized that’s what I was asking.”

“I gave you an earful when you woke.”

“You did, but it was mostly for show.” Tenar’s smile turns mischievous for just a second before she softens again. “When’s the last time you let yourself rest, Lark?”

Lark feels bare under her gaze. She swallows. “You already know, apparently. A day and a half? Perhaps a little longer?”

Tenar shakes her head. “No. I mean, when is the last time you let one of us carry you?”

She drops her gaze. “I’m dealing with it, the same as everyone else.”

“You don’t have to handle it all.” She rubs her thumb across Lark’s palm, firm and soothing. “You’ve carried so much responsibility this entire time, and we needed it. But you can let it go now.”

“And give it to you?” Lark asks. “You’ve dealt with just as much. Don’t scold me for being stubborn and then do the same thing yourself.”

“Then let me carry it with you,” Tenar says softly. “And carry mine with me. We’re in this together, Lark. We always have been.”

Lark sighs. She slumps forward in her chair. Tenar runs her hand over her hair again.

“Is this the favor?” she asks. Tenar’s nails scratch gently at her scalp.

“No. Not tonight, at least. Tonight, I have a more short-term goal.”

“Oh?” She sits up again to look at her.

“Spend the night with me.”

Lark gives a soft, short laugh. “How is that a favor?”

“Make no mistake, I’m asking for my own benefit here, perhaps even more so than yours. I…I’ve missed you these past few weeks, Lark.” She lets go of Lark’s hand long enough to tuck a piece of hair behind her ears, shy and uncertain in a way Lark forgets still exists, sometimes. “You know, the night before we lost Moss, I…I had been looking for you.”

“Why?” Lark breathes.

“Because…” She smiles down at their hands, the tips of her ears turning pink. “Because of this.”

It shatters her. It steals her breath away. It makes her want to cry, stupidly. Lark leans forward to take Tenar’s hands in her own.

“Tenar…”

“I fear, sometimes, that we can still lose everything. And I fear it more when I’m lying awake and wishing you were there with me.” She looks up again. “So please, Lark, come to bed. Let me feel safer with you there. And let me—” She brings their hands to her lips, kissing Lark’s knuckles, “let me make you feel safe, too.”

Her eyes sting, and she knows Tenar sees it. She swallows hard and says, “I don’t want to burden you.”

“What if I want your burden?”

Lark has no clue what she’s supposed to say to that, so she doesn’t. Tenar doesn’t make her. She just slides off the table, tugging Lark’s hands to pull her up and along.

Lark doesn’t acknowledge the walk through the castle. She doesn’t pay much attention to anything but Tenar as she leads them to her room, and then to her bed, and then under the covers and into her arms. It’s only there, wrapped in the warmth of her embrace, that Lark realizes how cold she was. She shivers, and Tenar holds her tightly, fiercely.

“I worry,” Lark whispers into the dark, even as she brings her arms up to wrap around Tenar. “I worry that it will never be over. That we’ll never truly have peace.”

“I do, too,” Tenar breathes.

“How do you hold on, then? Why do we keep trying when—when—”

“Hey,” she breathes, bringing her hand up to cup Lark’s cheek, cutting her off.

Lark looks at her, feeling loss and fear and despair echo in the meager space between them. But then Tenar leans forward, and it melts away, all of it, at the first brush of their lips. The tightness in her chest loosens, and she lets it spread through her. Lets herself unravel, for a moment, in Tenar’s arms.

“This,” Tenar says when they part. She presses her forehead to Lark’s. “Because of this.”

Lark closes her eyes. She can’t keep the tears back this time—especially not when Tenar brushes them away, kisses her cheeks and her brow and the tip of her nose. But what she can do is hold on. What she can do is nod, even as she cries. What she can do—what she hasn’t been able to do since the night she found Tenar dying on that balcony—is believe, finally, that they’ll be okay.

#tenlark #erathia #i was GONNA write lethal company au #and then i wrote 2k words of post erathia 4 softness #featuring lore that i'm really not sure exists outside me and sweepy's dms lmao #i think my problem is i'm trying to write this intense space survival but in my heart of hearts i just want softness #so shit like this keeps happening #have some tenlark i guess!#i've lost control of my life!

51 notes · View notes