Chapter Text
Imogen is being followed. Ever since she left the farmer’s market, she’s felt the presence of another trailing her as she guides her horse, Tilly, back towards her and Laudna’s cottage on the outskirts of town. Years of adventuring and being chased out of towns have left her senses heightened for any possible threat lurking in the shadows.
At first, Imogen hoped that this person must simply be headed in the same direction but with very few neighbors in this part of town, that’s becoming less and less likely with each passing second. Imogen’s pulse quickens, heart pounding in her ears. It’s a familiar sensation but one she hasn’t felt in quite some time. She and Laudna have been fully embraced by the small, tight-knit community of Heartmoor. For the first time in either of their lives, they were embraced by the town before they were comfortable enough to embrace the town back.
Over the last couple of years, they have made a name for themselves for having excellent produce and the best decorations for Haverst’s Close. People from nearby villages will even stop by on occasion to see how they (Laudna, really) have decorated the exterior of their home for the holiday. Imogen has never felt more at home which makes this potential threat all the more unsettling.
Imogen urges Tilly to speed up and as she does, a few pieces of leftover produce from her booth at the farmer’s market fall off the back of the cart, thudding into the dirt. She tries to turn her head to get a glimpse of her unwelcome companion but whomever it is, they’re just stealthy enough to avoid detection. The only sign of another presence is the sudden rustling of a large bush off the side of the road a hundred or so yards away.
Her and Laudna’s home quickly comes into view and while Imogen is slightly worried about leading someone right to their front door, she’s confident enough in both of their abilities to handle whatever possible danger lurks in the foliage behind her. Smoke billows from the chimney of their cottage and although the threat is still there, Imogen loosens her white-knuckle grip on Tilly’s reins. She breathes a little easier knowing that Laudna is home in case she needs backup. The anxiety is still there but with Laudna nearby, she can handle anything.
Thinking it’s best to give her wife a heads up about the potential threat, Imogen quickly sends a message to Laudna. Honey, I’m almost home but I think I’m being followed. Can you send Pâté to investigate?
In the distance, Imogen sees Pâté fly out of an open window as Laudna’s response comes through, on it, dear.
It takes only a moment for Pâté to approach Imogen. “Hi, Imogen,” he greets cheerily. “Mum said you were being followed. Oh, and she said she’ll murder anyone who even thinks about hurting you. She got that crazy look in her eyes.”
Imogen rolls her eyes, though whether it's directed at Pâté’s inability to be stealthy about anything or her wife’s overprotectiveness, she’s not quite sure. Still, she smiles to herself as a familiar rush of affection for Laudna sweeps through her veins. It’s not the first time Laudna has made this particular threat but after spending so many of her formative years isolated and ostracized, she’s still sometimes taken aback by Laudna’s fierce protectiveness. Imogen knows her own powers and capabilities but when one spends so many of their formative years feeling like a prey animal, it’s sometimes still difficult to process someone genuinely caring about her well-being. “‘Preciate it, Pâté, but can you be a little quieter, please?”
“Sorry, Ma,” Pâté says, he brings a tiny bony finger to his jaw in a shushing motion as he continues to fly along in search of whomever is following Imogen. Neither Imogen nor Laudna had ever told the familiar to refer to Imogen as Ma but sometime after the wedding, he slowly started dropping the moniker into his vocabulary, now using it interchangeably with her name.
Imogen is nearing the house when Laudna’s voice rings through her head. I don’t see anyone but a small child just off the road. They’re eating a carrot. Keeping an eye out. Creepy whispers accompany Laudna’s words and while they’re not completely coherent, Imogen catches words like murder, Imogen, and hurt. Imogen smiles softly at the familiarity of the whispers that always accompany her wife’s messages.
As Imogen reaches the stables, she quickly frees Tilly of the cart and saddle, making a mental note to clean the stables in the morning, before quickly rushing in through the back door of the house. As soon as she crosses the threshold, she’s greeted by the smell of freshly baked blueberry pie wafting through the space. She inhales deeply, enjoying the scent of her favorite pie filling their kitchen. She shucks her boots on the mat by the kitchen and makes her way to the living room.
As suspected, Laudna is laying on the couch in the living room, dark hair splayed over a throw pillow. She’s eerily still, eyes unfocused and unblinking, her absent gaze looking up at the ceiling. She’s wearing a simple maroon sundress trimmed with black lace, one of Imogen’s favorites. The evening sun streams through the windows, filling the room with a serene light. The light casts Laudna in golden glow, making her look every bit like the angel sent to save Imogen from herself that Imogen believes her to be. She looks so beautiful that Imogen has to resist the temptation to crawl into her lap and kiss her senseless. Given that Laudna is currently down one sense and made a threat of murder just minutes ago, that seems like a pretty terrible idea. Instead, she kneels next to the couch, reverently kneeling at the altar of her wife.
“I’m here now, darlin’,” Imogen says gently, hoping not to startle Laudna who is currently focusing all of her energy on seeing through Pâté’s vision. She gently brushes a few stray white strands from Laudna’s face and watches her wife come back into herself. Laudna’s eyes blink slowly as she readjusts to her own vision. Her face splits into a wide smile at the sight of Imogen hovering over her, tenderly brushing her hair off of her forehead, her freckled face soft with adoration.
“It’s really just a kid?” Imogen questions. She smiles and leans in to give Laudna a kiss in greeting. When they part, she presses another gentle kiss to the corner of Laudna’s smile for good measure.
“Seems like it. I told Pâté to keep watch if they stick around.” Laudna sits up on the couch and pats the now empty space next to her for Imogen to join. As Imogen settles, Laudna wraps a protective arm around her side, allowing Imogen to curl up in her wife’s comforting embrace.
They remain cuddled together for a few minutes as they discuss their respective days–Imogen talking about the sales she made at the market and Laudna talking about the housework she got done and the new romance she’s reading about two witches who fall in love. It so closely resembles her and Imogen’s story that she feels as if she’s already read it, though she’s certain there’s no possible ending that could match the life they’ve made for themselves. They take turns sneaking kisses every so often as they talk, never able to help themselves when they’re in such close proximity.
Laudna has just moved to straddle Imogen, deeping their kiss, when Pâté flies through the open window, yelling about a thief.
Reluctantly, Laudna pulls away from Imogen, slumping back on her own seat while Imogen remains breathless and flushed next to her.
“Sorry for interrupting,” Pâté says, not sounding sorry in the slightest. “You coulda put a sock on the door or something.”
“Just give us the report, please,” Imogen says, clearly frustrated at the interruption. It takes a moment to catch her breath and if she weren’t so curious about the situation, she’d already have kicked Pâté out so she and Laudna could finish what they started. “As quickly as possible, if you don’t mind.”
She’s not quite sure how Pâté’s boney face changes to look like he wants to make an inappropriate comment but she’s very thankful that he seems to think better of it and instead begins to describe what he saw. “There’s no one but the kid.”
“How old are they?” Laudna questions.
“I’ve never been around kids myself so they could be three, could be eight, maybe fifteen.”
“Very helpful,” Imogen says.
“They found the carrots and potatoes,” Pâté continues. “They put handfuls of each in their bag before they crawled back under the fence.”
“Curious,” Laudna says with a glance over at Imogen. “Which direction did they go?”
“Back towards town.”
“Did you see anything else?” Laudna questions.
“No, that’s it, boss.”
“Great, then go find something to do elsewhere.”
Pâté mumbles something about never being allowed to stick around for the fun but follows directions and flies out of the room nonetheless.
“Maybe their family fell on hard times recently,” Imogen muses once they’re alone again. “We did have an exceptionally rainy season earlier in the year. Quite a few people are struggling.” As she speaks, Laudna begins trailing gentle fingers up and down Imogen’s arms. Imogen is still flushed from their interrupted kiss so the cool sensation of Laudna’s skin against her own is more than welcome.
“Could be. We can have Pâté keep watch and see if they come back. Maybe there’s some way we can help. We have more than enough to spare.”
Imogen nods her agreement, always impressed by how giving Laudna is. No matter how existence has tried to break and isolate her, she’s remained one of the kindest, gentlest souls Imogen has ever had the pleasure of knowing. She feels that familiar rush of affection once again and in one motion, pulls Laudna back onto her lap. “In the meantime,” she says, trailing off as she pulls Laudna back in to pick back up where they left off.