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She couldn't sleep. After everything that had happened, from skipping 15 years in the overworld in a matter of minutes to figuring out how to bring back her traitorous guard, how could she? Countless thoughts raced through her mind in a tumultuous storm of incomprehensible panic as she tried to grapple with her current predicament. She really should be asleep by now. They had to find Lucinda, and she wouldn't be any help with the search if she couldn't keep her eyes open in the morning. She should be able to rest easy knowing someone was currently on watch, but the dread in her stomach refused to settle and abate; she hoped it wasn't Laurance.
Time must still be flowing strangely after being in Irene's domain, because as hours of restlessness seemed to pass Aphmau by, mere seconds ticked away as she battled with herself. After an eternity of ten minutes, she had decided that she would get up and do *something.* Anything was better than sitting in her bedroll, feeling absolutely miserable and helpless as she did nothing. She glanced around the camp site, and could vaguely make out the features of her companions by the faint light emitted from the dying embers of the fire. I should make sure to get some firewood while I'm out.
She crept away from the camp, exceedingly cautious so as to avoid waking any of her companions. The last thing she needed was to be bombarded with queries as to why she was up so late. She just wanted a moment of peace away from everyone.
And for a while, she did have that peace. She was able to wander freely, rekindling the fire and keeping herself busy. But when her work was done and she was left alone once again with her thoughts and the vast expanse of snow, reality came crashing down onto her shoulders all at once. She couldn't breathe. It was far too cold and she could no longer feel her fingertips. If she really wanted to, she could walk back to her bedroll by the fire and regain sensation in her extremities, but she wasn't sure she wanted to. As resilient and headstrong as she tended to be, Aphmau wondered if it would provide her any relief to wander further into the expansive, frozen wasteland ahead of her and succumb to the tundra. The thought of no longer having to act like everything was alright was morbidly comforting to her, and she felt herself more and more compelled to let go. She drifted further and further, until the glow of the fire was nothing but a faint glimmer in the distance. Her body grew number as she aimlessly trudged on. Her vision went blurry and her ears wouldn't stop ringing, but she didn't care. She could keep drifting on and on, forever. It didn't matter how far she went, or if she collapsed right here, because she had failed. She failed and now there was nothing left to do but--
--she hit something. Not with much force, but it was a firm wall of warmth that was different enough to bring her out of her stupor. The wall had arms that seemed to envelop her tightly, but gently. "You okay?"
Oh. Oh.
She didn't answer. She only tore herself away and whirled around to see how far she had strayed from camp. "Damn it!" What was she thinking? How selfish could she be to die and leave everyone else to clean up her mess?
"Aphmau," Aaron's voice brought her back to the present. His eyes bore into her soul like silver spears, and she felt the sting of hot tears begin to well up behind her own eyes. "Talk to me." It was a plea so well-hidden in his usual veil of feigned apathy that she wouldn't have recognized it as such if she hadn't grown accustomed to his behavior over the course of their travels. It was subtle, but he looked so genuinely concerned--just concerned, no ulterior desires lying under the surface--that she couldn't help but crumble in his arms.
"I don't know what to do anymore," she whispered, barely audible above the sound of the icy winds. "I used to have an answer for everything. And if I didn't, I used to be able to think of something."
Aaron said nothing, merely tightening his arms around her waist to keep Aphmau steady as she swayed precariously. She looked so tired.
"I don't know where I went wrong. I used to know all my people by name, knew all of them personally, and *always* did my best to protect them. But I've *failed,* Aaron. I've failed."
"You haven't--"
"But I have! I let Zane slip through our defenses. He got to Garroth. He lured us into Irene's domain and we all missed fifteen years in the overworld. Nearly everyone is gone; they all lost faith and moved. Dante stayed, Irene bless him. He looks so tired. He was so young and full of life when we saw him last and now? It kills me to see how the light has drained from his eyes. He's exhausted!"
Aaron squeezed her shoulder. "And aren't you? Give yourself some grace. You had no idea any of this would happen, so you couldn't have prevented it. Dante stayed because he believed in you."
Aphmau chuckled wryly. "He shouldn't have. I couldn't even get back in time to watch my own children grow up. I missed their childhoods. They're completely grown now. Levin doesn't remember me, Malachi doesn't seem to want to half the time, and I just know that they both resent me for leaving."
"It was out of your control."
"Maybe. But they were my greatest joy. And I missed watching them grow up. I can't even watch my village grow anymore. I'm no longer the lord of Phoenix Drop, Levin is." The tears welling behind her eyes started to spill down her cheeks in hot, salty streams. "And he seems to be doing an incredible job, especially considering the wreck of a village that I left him with by the time he came of age."
Aphmau heaved a sob, burying herself further into Aaron's chest. She no longer cared about keeping up appearances anymore. She was so tired of pretending that she was alright; and even if Aaron had never cried in front of her before, he had still been incredibly vulnerable in her company. Maybe she owed him the same kind of honesty. Aaron only pulled her closer, kneeling in the snow and situating her more comfortably in his arms. "I know exactly how you feel. Maybe it's not quite the same, but you still lost your family and your village. That would be devastating for anyone." Since when had Aaron become so verbose? He was usually a man of few words, even in private. Had she really seemed that pitiful?
The phoenix was pulled out of her thoughts as the low rumble of Aaron's voice reverberated against her cheek. "I could be wrong, but that isn't the only thing bothering you." Aphmau started upright, meeting his eyes for the first time since he initially pulled her out of her sorry trance. "What?" she stammered. "I know you have something else on your mind. I'm here to listen if you need." Aphmau settled back against him, sighing to herself. "Well, you're not wrong, but I really don't want to waste your time with it. It's stupid." Aaron rolled his eyes, lightly flicking her forehead. "If it bothers you this much, it clearly isn't stupid. You don't have to tell me anything you aren't comfortable with airing out in the open. But if your reason for holding your tongue is because it's 'stupid,' I'm going to need a better excuse than that." She snorted. "You aren't gonna let this go, are you?"
"Nope."
"Alright then," she sighed. "If you really must know, I'm having...boy trouble." Aaron chuckled softly. "Is that so?" She turned around to shoot him a harsh glare, but there was no hostility behind it. "Yes," she retorted pointedly. "I'm all ears," Aaron replied much more earnestly.
"It's just... I adore Garroth and Laurance. They both mean so much to me. Garroth has been there since I first woke up outside of Phoenix Drop, and helped me acclimate to being lord. Laurance is so kind, and while he's far from perfect, he's a fierce and selfless protector. And they're both incredible friends."
Aaron nodded, gently rubbing circles into Aphmau's shoulder with the pad of his thumb. "But...?" She sighed, returning to her explanation. "But it feels like they don't see me as an autonomous person sometimes. I can't tell if they're just entitled, or if they don't think I'm capable of making my own choices. They would constantly bicker and..." She must have seemed so self-absorbed. "They'd compete with each other? Over my attention, I guess--sorry, I must sound horrible."
"No, you're alright. I've noticed."
"Right. Well, it was just frustrating, because I never really thought about them--or anyone--in that way. I guess I just never had the time or the energy with everything going on, but thoughts of romance weren't really my priority. Then the incident with Michi and the werewolves happened, I was forced into an arranged marriage, they were going to kill Laurance--" She had never aired this out to anyone before. It might have been 15 years ago, but it all felt so recent, mere weeks in the past. "You're okay now. You're both safe." She smiled up at him, grateful that he put a stop to her rising panic. "And he went ballistic. Partially in self-defense, partially because of me. And I panicked, and...I kissed him. It brought him back, but I had never kissed anyone before. It was...nice? And over time, I saw how gentle and protective he was, and it made me care for him more. In a different way, though, if that makes any sense."
"It does."
"Then Zane took Garroth, and when I found him in the dream realm, he told me he loved me, and he kissed me. But it wasn't my choice to kiss him. And I had just started to unpack my feelings for Laurance. So I told him what Garroth did and said, and he told me that I shouldn't make a decision until we get him back, because it isn't honorable to go behind the back of his brother-in-arms. But it was honorable for Garroth to act the way he did? And why would it be dishonorable if *I'm* the one to choose? Don't I get any say in this?" She huffed out a frustrated breath, watching as the air condensed and swirled into a little cloud of fog, seemingly mimicking her own storm cloud of emotions.
"Both of them wanted me to pick one of them. Garroth saw me as his and betrayed everyone when Zane showed him a glimpse of what Laurance and I had. And when I think I'm ready to choose, Laurance tells me not to? I know they care about me, but the two of them always put their own desires first, especially when I'm involved. And I've come to realize that I don't want that."
Aaron hummed thoughtfully, giving Aphmau a moment to collect her thoughts. "Well," he began, hoping to help steer his friend in the right direction without upsetting her further, "what do you want?"
Aphmau blinked up at him in disbelief. Did he really just say that? "Wow, uhm..." She giggled nervously, unsure of how to answer his question. "Nobody's ever asked me that before." Aaron smiled softly, a barely noticeable shift in his countenance, but one that warmed Aphmau despite the harsh chill of the air, nonetheless. "Well, someone had to eventually. Take your time." She nodded, her brow knitting tightly as she pondered what she might actually want. It was a lot harder than it should have been. What did she want? She knew what she didn't want--someone who would lie to her, keep secrets, coddle her, cross her boundaries, refuse to listen. She didn't want that.
"Uhm," she began timidly, "I would want someone kind. Someone who listens, who's honest... someone who respects my boundaries and allows me to figure things out on my own. Someone who wants me to be safe, but also believes that I can handle myself." As she went on, memories started to flood her mind with staggering clarity; memories of a certain companion, and the shocking part was they weren't entirely unwanted.
He's Kind.
Despite his aloof exterior, he never hesitated to help those who needed it, including her.
He Listens.
He had always been there to give her guidance, or just to lend an ear and be a sounding board for her own thoughts.
He cares how I feel.
He would always encourage her to make her own wants known, and never crossed the line with her.
He protects me.
Every time she's been in a bind, he's been just a few steps behind, ready to save her if she really needed it. And even then--
He believes in me.
Even when things seemed to go horribly wrong, or when Aphmau had made the worst mistakes, he never lost faith in her. He never undermined her efforts or coddled her. Over the course of their training together, he never once went easy on her or gave her the answers directly. He knew she was capable enough to handle herself, and she never felt more empowered than when she was with him.
"I guess what I want is you."
Wait. Fuck! She couldn't say that to him. He was her friend. Her mentor, for Irene's sake. Though they weren't too far apart in age, he couldn't possibly have seen her as anything more than a lost child. He was kind to her out of pity. He understood her troubles, and wanted to help ease the burden. That was all.
Aphmau quickly averted her gaze, unable to face the man who would surely reject her unexpected confession. Aaron, however, couldn't seem to tear his gaze away from the young woman. He stared at her in bewilderment, completely unable to speak for a moment.
Mere seconds of silence passed between the two, but they carried centuries of crushing pressure for the odd pair. Countless fears and what-ifs raged above their heads like the tides in a hurricane.
Aaron was the first to speak.
"Do you really mean that?"
He practically choked out his own words, his heart caught in his throat. He didn't want to fall for her, not after the monumental loss of his wife and son, but over the months of their friendship, he found that he couldn't stop the flames that consumed him and burned for her.
Aphmau nodded timidly, desperately hoping that this was all just a bad dream; that she would wake up tomorrow morning and Aaron would be none the wiser of her affections, and they could be as they always were. She was pulled from her anxious stupor when she felt two warm, calloused hands cup her face as if she were made of glass.
"I was kind of hoping that you did."
What? He couldn't be serious. He actually felt the same way? Aphmau's head was spinning with more questions as she reluctantly lifted her gaze to meet his, praying that it was true and that this wasn't some cruel joke. But he had never lied to her before--one of the many reasons why she loved him--and she trusted him with her life. To her delight, she was met not with taunting eyes, but soft, genuine ones. Eyes that seemed to plead with her for some kind of confirmation. Maybe she was projecting, but it gave her the courage she needed to ask, "can I kiss you?"
Aaron smiled softly, a slight hint of hesitation in his countenance as he brushed his thumb up and down her cheek. "You do know I'm horrible company, right?" He had hoped it came off lighthearted enough without any of his self-loathing coming through. Aphmau only snorted and rolled her eyes. "You're no worse than anyone else I associate with." That was all he needed. He didn't answer her request, instead surging forward to press a soft kiss to her lips.
It honestly took Aphmau by surprise. She thought he would reject her, tell her that even if he did feel the same way, it was too soon. But instead, he held her close and kissed her like she was his world. She didn't even know it could feel like this; she had been kissed three times in her life, but they always felt rushed, desperate, and somewhat wrong. Here, there was no desperation. No pulling someone out of darkness, no taking advantage of a short window of opportunity, just her, Aaron, and the snow falling around them. The rest of the world faded away until it was just the two of them, nestled in each other's arms and at peace. It wasn't much--just a simple kiss, just a bit too long to be a peck, and all too innocent--but it was *hers.* Her choice, her feelings. And Aaron reciprocated them.
She had nearly fallen asleep in Aaron's lap by the time he advised that they should get back to camp before anyone woke up. He was right; she didn't want to cause a fuss, but she also didn't want to have to leave his arms so soon. Aaron held her hand the whole way back to camp, and her heart swelled at the gesture. She would make it through this. She would be okay.