Prickly thorns, tender roses

Kindled

A/N:  Content warning: explicit  

Ravenna remembered little detail from their return journey. She recalled faltering, doing her utmost to carry on but ultimately weakening past a point of her known endurance. There was also great solace, spanning from the words they'd shared, from seeing his remorse; from his frame against hers, enveloping her like a cure. In his eyes she had seen something he craved, seeking it within her like an arrow shot blindly, striking true. Ravenna understood the true extent of his motives, the fear and longing for once reluctantly revealed for her to see, to believe him. She remembered falling, and warm droplets of rain on her face, then the sun's early rays shivering upon her closed eyelids. She'd swayed on her feet from the sleepless nights and the strain of recent days. His words came as vibrating ripples, become rising tides against her shores. His voice, thick and laced with a softness Ravenna never heard from him before; one she never heard from anyone before.

"We're not far, Raven. It won't be long..."

Raven. It reached the nether of her conscious.

She liked it.

Her feet left the ground; her head fell against him, with ease and a new lightness of being, as well as peace. She saw a last glimpse of worry in downcast eyes when hers were closing and her vision blackened.

These were the thoughts flowing in currents, tangling with the image of a silver moon cast in the darkest sky, squandering its cold light upon stone tiles. All this had been days ago. Or perhaps merely yesterday? Ravenna certainly lost track of time, and since they reached the castle, all she could do was sleep. She slept, woke to drink and wash and eat briefly of what was offered to her, and slept again. It was only recently that she'd awoken, and the rush of events and words and feelings hit her with the force of physical blows.

Presently, she sat bundled into an old settee on a wide terrace, part of a wing of the castle that was new to her. It was a chilly night for summer, the air rich with the comforting scent of nature in its prime.

A shadow was before her, a sliver of light gold, and an extended hand.

"Well met."

She smiled, and Ravenna thought the end of that smile passed over his own lips. He looked so utterly boyish, when even the slightest joy was impressed upon that anguished face. Adrian was offering her a drink, a hot beverage by the looks of the steam wafting from the cup.

"Mulled wine," he supplied, taking a seat beside her. "It may help in regaining your strength."

Ravenna accepted the offering, her eyes following his as she inhaled the tangy scent. She took a sip. It was warm, red, and sweet, laced with spices and herbs unknown to her.

"It is good," Ravenna said into his stare, placing the cup onto a round iron-wrought table close to the settee. She looked back at Adrian, but none spoke, not for a time. The same light was in his eyes from before, in the woods. When he came in search of her, and providence had waved a generous hand. They were alive.

A pale finger reached and grazed her cheek, where the violet bruises left by the huntress still flared like crushed lilac across her skin. Though it still hurt, Ravenna could not deny the boneless sense of relief his touch awoke in her.

"Thank you," Adrian then hummed, his gaze subdued, contrite even. Had Ravenna not foiled the huntress' stance, a silver arrow would have been his end. Once, cowardly, he may have welcomed it. Now the notion was ridiculous and faraway.

"You would've done the same." There was an unwavering certainty in her words.

Adrian merely nodded. His hand seemed to have a will of its own, his fingers gliding to her temples, sifting through her messy hair. Ravenna closed her eyes at the promise behind the gesture, only to open them when the touch faded.