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Elpis, Ancient times
It hit without warning, as she rested against the stones of the liberated prison, watching Ericthonios take charge of his new responsibilities, directing the wardens, speaking quietly with Lahabrea and Them--Elidibus. The tightness gripped her chest, chills streaking down her spine to stand the fur of her tail on end, and her heart raced. Perhaps some small sound alerted him as she pushed herself upright, but the sight of that white head of hair turning in her direction only spurred her feet as she made for the exit.
The fresh air of Elpis was a relief. She took deep, gasping breaths, bent over her knees, and tried to rein in the runaway feelings trying to overwhelm her. She didn’t even know why this sudden instinct to flee assailed her. They’d won, hadn’t they? It was over. The threat of the false Hephaistos — Athena’s plots — the danger of Pandaemonium — all were ended. The ancient world would continue on as it was meant to — until the final days, of course. Despite such a grim future fate this was a happy ending wasn’t it? Why this heaviness on her heart, then?
“Are you well, my friend,” a soft, familiar voice asked and she twisted to face the Emissary. Elidibus, Adjudicator of the Convocation, tasked with maintaing balance, one of the three future unsundered who would strive uselessly to restore the star to it’s pristine ancient state… His hand upraised, as though he might have been reaching to touch her, froze as his head tilted to watch her with eyes seeming full of gentle concern.
“I’m well enough,” she said, trying to straighten. Of all the jumbled, tumbling facts in her mind, she shied from only one, desperately unwilling to let herself think of him as simply … Themis.
“You look as though a stiff breeze might topple you,” he said with a kind smile, all informality and friendliness as he had been from the first moment she met him here in Elpis. Oh how she’d liked Themis — dear, proper, sweet Themis — who she had known all along must be more than he seemed, but somehow the knowing who he was now made all the difference. His hand dropped and he looked up at the gloomy sky above them.
“Would you favor me with a stroll, my friend?” he asked. She cast doubtful eyes upward, ears canting uncertainly back and forward.
“In this? It looks like rain any moment…” Somehow the idea of being alone with him was far more unnerving than anything she had faced within Pandaemonium.
“Surely a little rain is no deterrent to one such as you,” he said with a slight smile. A weak sort of challenge, but she couldn’t help bristling a little.
“Of course not,” she said, rolling her eyes. She found herself walking beside him as he set a course through the trees. They walked in silence, but not the comfortable quiet she had enjoyed with him during the lulls in their investigations. Somehow it felt as though she were balancing on a tightrope with every step.
“A satisfactory conclusion, I think,” he said finally. She made a noncommittal noise and nodded. “I believe Erich will be a fine administrator going forward.”
“Yeah,” was all she could muster in response. They walked a little further in silence, until it became utterly unbearable and she had to speak. “Elidibus,” she began.
“My friend…” he spoke at the same time. Their eyes met and his were bright with amusement, but something more hesitant beneath. She opened her mouth to tell him to speak when a spot of cold hit her cheek, then another. They both looked up.
“It seems you may have been correct,” he said, mouth curving wryly. At which point the heavens opened. She couldn’t help the offended exclamation as the sudden, heavy downpour plastered the fur on her ears down immediately, but her companion only laughed. His hand reached out to encircle her wrist and he tugged, suddenly sprinting for the nearby shelter of a stone gazebo across a field of flowers and dragging her with him. She was so startled she put up no resistance.
He released her as soon as they reached shelter, the both of them shaking their sleeves and wiping rain from their eyes. He was grinning as he did so.
“Elidibus…”
“Are you cold?” he asked, noticing her shiver as the suddenly brisk breeze sent goosebumps up and down her arms. For “paradise” the rain was damned chilly.
“No, I…”
“Nonsense, here,” he said, undoing something at his throat that caused his white robe to part. He whipped it off rather casually and draped the damp fabric over her shoulders. She hardly noticed at first, though, distracted by the thin white undershirt he wore, hugging the rather well formed plane of his chest and stomach far more interestingly than those shapeless robes implied.
“Uh…th-thank you. Elidibus, I…”
“I wish you would call me Themis,” he said gravely, hands still resting lightly on her shoulders, stealing her attention and her breath with his bright aqua eyes. “As you have been for weeks.” He held her gaze with the same quiet determination he had shown in Pandaemonium and it was impossible to look away.
“But you aren’t just Themis,” she whispered a little sadly. His smile only faltered a little, reasserting itself quickly enough.
“Yes, I am. To you, my dear friend, I would say I always shall be, if you allow it. Will you?” She tore her eyes away, chewing her lip. It wasn’t as though she would see him again after they said goodbye here. It should be simple enough to just let him have this request, but something resisted.
“I am sorry I did not tell you before,” he said quietly, misinterpreting her hesitation. His hands drew down her arms to take hers gently. Her shiver had an entirely different source now. She hoped he would not notice.
“I understand why you didn’t. I knew from the start you weren’t just some servant of the convocation,” she admitted, dropping her eyes to their clasped hands.
“As I knew you were no mere familiar, my guiding star,” he murmured. Heat washed up her neck and her tail curled around her leg, the timbre of his voice somehow taking on an intimacy she’d never heard before. “You seem to be feeling better now.” She snorted a laugh.
“The rain was a bit of a shock,” she said ruefully.
“Just what you needed then,” he grinned back, but still did not release his hold on her hands.
“You act as though you planned it that way,” she rolled her eyes. She wasn’t pulling away either. She should pull away.
“Perhaps I did,” he mused. She couldn’t help the outright bark of laughter this time.
“Not even you are that calculating,” she said without thinking.
“Me? Calculating? Perish the thought!” he rejoined without missing a beat, but he looked more pleased than offended.
“The way you caught Hephaistos out,” she countered, “was very clever. And impressive.”
“Have I impressed you? I am glad of it. I hoped I might,” he grinned wider and she felt her defenses cracking even further.
Gods this was such a bad idea. It had been a bad idea when he was only Themis and she’d have to leave him behind in the past. It was an even worse idea now. She should have left right away, and damn any panic attack. She should say goodbye now. Whatever this was it was impossible. She knew better than most where his path would lead and continuing in this manner was a pointless exercise in masochism. But her heart didn’t seem to care for the logic of her mind.
Even as she wrestled with her feelings, the cloudburst was tapering off, the only sound that of water droplets from the dripping trees. The whole world seemed to still as though time had stopped. Then clouds evanesced away, allowing bright sun through to make the world around them sparkle as though strewn about with diamonds. Themis’ eyes closed and he took a deep breath, perhaps savoring the petrichor scent of fresh dampened earth.
“And now the rains have ceased and we have been graced with another beautiful day,” he murmured, eyes opening to shine up at her. “and we are both here to see it, thanks to you. Glad am I you could share this moment with — pray, what has alarmed you, my friend?”
She had wrenched herself away, stricken by the familiar words, and stumbled back from him. He looked genuinely shocked and concerned, reaching out to her.
“Why would you say such a thing?” she demanded, nearly choking on the words.
“Pray forgive me. I know not what I said to upset you, I…”
“You haven’t,” she lied desperately, shaking her head, denial writ upon her face. But she had to turn away, eyes burning, lest he see the horror on her face she could not hide. Those words. Those words cut her to the quick. Suddenly she was back in the tower, staring down at the defeated form of Elidibus as he swept the meager collection of stones into a pile in front of him, muttering over them about his duty and his mission, speech disjointed and so lost and alone. She remembered the way he had looked up at her, what almost looked like lucidity lighting his face when he saw her, like clouds burnt away by the sun.
The rains have ceased and we have been graced with another beautiful day, then his eyes dimmed once more, drifting away, but you are not here to see it.
She shook her head in denial, but the thought would not leave her be. She’d assumed he was speaking to his long dead comrades, lost in the past, but what if he’d known exactly who she was. Why would he latch onto those same words in his last moments? She was shaking again, hands clamped over her mouth as though to keep any betraying sound trapped.
“My dearest friend, tell me what is wrong,” she heard him speaking as though from far away. “If you doubt the importance of your contribution…or perhaps my praise embarrasses you…” He sounded a little panicked, gentle fingers brushing her arm as though afraid he might spook her.
“It doesn’t make sense. I’m nothing special,” she muttered to herself.
“Of course you are!” his voice rang with conviction and she realized she had spoken aloud. “Do you truly not know how important you are?”
“Themis…” his name tumbled from her lips, “It’s not that…” She was shaking again, eyes squeezed shut. She couldn’t bear to look on his beautiful face and remember him in defeat.
“I do not jest,” he said gravely, “when I call you my guiding star, for that is what you have been from the moment you fell into my life. I know I have not said it. Forgive me for my cowardice. Selfishly, I find myself wishing our time together were not coming to an end. That there might be just one more crisis to keep you here…” She heard him step closer and she could not look away, mesmerized by his intensity. Much like that moment in Pandaemonium when he demanded Hephaistos call him by his name.
“I did not wish to hear you say what we both know to be true, that you must go back to whence you came, and I will likely never…”
“Themis,” she turned on him, nearly growling with frustration, and lunged to press her lips to his, stopping the flood of words before she drowned in bittersweet regret. He did not freeze as she had expected, nor even hesitate, but immediately parted his lips to deepen the kiss, his deceptively strong arms wrapping around to draw her closer. The kiss was warm and tender and exploring. When it ended and he drew back, his eyes were dark and lambent, a satisfied smile curling his lips.
“Say it again,” he murmured, brushing his lips over her cheekbone. Her eyes fluttered shut and she knew she was about to make a monumental mistake.
“Themis,” she murmured. Her hands cupped his cheeks, fingers weaving into his silken hair. “Shut up,” she said as she dragged him down to the marble floor.
“As you wish.”
****************************************************
Gridania, Present Day
He first became aware of the distant sound of children’s laughter. It wasn’t wholly unfamiliar, but it had been so long since he had last heard such a carefree sound. The sharp sting of cold on his cheeks was more invigorating, his eyes popping open with a startled gasp. His fingers came away wet and it took some moments to realize it was snowmelt. Fat flakes floated lazily down around him and his breath created clouds in the cold night air. The laughter floated to him once more along with the sound of bells and distant chatter. He turned slowly to see bright lights and color through the trees.
He drifted toward the sounds of merriment, feeling as though he walked through a dream. Except he hardly remembered his dreams in the last thousand, thousand years, and even if he had why would he dream of this? He had no notion where he was let alone how he came to be there.
The where was swiftly solved however as he emerged from the trees. Towering trees, close grown and dense, and the small village of stalls in the clearing were distinctly Gridanian in design, despite the bauble decorated tree towering over the center of it all being a clear example of Ishgardian winter festival tradition. Starlight, if his recollection could be trusted. He was not all that certain it could be. Why he should so easily remember such trivial knowledge when so much was blurred or missing still troubled him.
He walked as he thought, apart and alone amidst the cheerful crowds. In the absence of recognition he fell back on observation. Not an unhappy face could be seen in the crowd, the small wooden stalls apparently various vendors selling trinkets and baubles and libations. He watched bemused as a small furry creature trundled by, followed by a nutkin in a red fur trimmed cap.
“Here you are!” the voice froze him in place, his heart beating a furious tattoo in his breast. He knew that voice. He whirled around, scanning the crowd for the owner with rising hope. It took almost too long, until he recognized the flippant swish of her tail. She wore a knit cap over her ears, which had made him miss her at first. She was crouched before a pair of younglings, a wide smile on her face as they drank from steaming mugs.
He caught his breath, hope blossoming into something deeper that tugged him forward, even more like a dream than before. No longer did he wonder, or even care, why he was here, because she was here. His dear friend, not only for all she had done for him in the past, not only for that memorable night on Elpis so long ago, but that she was his rock in the tempest. She alone was the one clear thread that connected all his fragmented memories. Even at his lowest, darkest points she had been there.
“My friend,” he said with soft wonder, having drifted closer without conscious thought. Somehow she heard him, even above the low level hum around them. Her tail froze, shoulders stiffening before she slowly turned to face him. When their eyes met he saw shock and disbelief in her dark eyes.
“Themis?” she whispered. “How…?” He managed an almost careless shrug.
“I don’t know. Does it matter?” She made a small, wounded sound and suddenly he found his feet. He flew to her side, pulling her hard against him in a comforting embrace. Her own arms wove around him, holding him close as she buried her face in his neck and inhaled deeply.
“No. Not in the least,” she admitted. “Somehow the Saint of Nymeia knew exactly what to get me for Starlight and I’m not about to argue.” He felt a twinge of guilt.
“I know not how long I might be here,” he warned softly, but she shook her head sharply.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, pulling back to give him a watery smile. He glanced up, taking in the velvet black of the sky strewn with stars like diamonds.
“Look,” he said wonderingly, “the snows have stopped and we have been graced with another beautiful night together.” His words were stopped by her lips on his, tender and passionate. When she pulled away they were both breathing hard and he had little care for anything but the woman before him.
“You must be cold. Here, have some punch,” she said, wrapping his fingers around a warm steaming mug.
“As you wish.”