The sword clatters loudly to the ground, the second he appears. Imperial Security took one look at the mess she had left, the sword in her hand, and taken her nod to tell them that she was fine with the understanding she needed them too - not that any of them would meet her eyes, fear or guilt, she couldn't tell as she stands bloody and satisfied.
At least until he reappears - and she has much, so much to explain. Doesn't know where to even begin - how long now, had she been keeping this? Long enough that it would start to become obvious soon, long enough that their children would age, he would age, and timeless, she would stand behind them. That one day, she might just outlive them all, if moments like this did not get her first.
Thoughts she had been putting off for years. Thoughts that right now, she nearly had to face sooner than she thought, and it burns so sharply in her throat as she watches him step into the room. Something she could not bear as she reaches for him. Her arms going around his neck - to kiss him hard and once, not for the sake of passion - but to make sure he was there and still alive. She couldn't, couldn't do this again. "The children - ?"
The only thing that mattered. Everything else could follow.
He sighs into the kiss, unable to stop himself from wrapping his arms around her. No matter how much his anger and frustration threatened to consume him whole with the secrets she kept from him, nothing would change that he had almost lost her. He had almost become a widower and finally he knows what his mother must have felt when she thought his father had died, all those years ago. At least he would have only had a wife to mourn, and not a wife and child.
"They are fine," he answers, once their lips part. "And being taken care of. I made sure of it." After he had comforted them, made sure they were well himself. That was something he could not simply accept someone's word on.
It isn't good enough to hear it from anyone else but him, the only person whose word she could take it from. Because she had hold lost it all once before. Stood there, with this empty thing in her chest, carved apart - but not this time. Not again, and for it, she nods, taking in the first real breath she has in hours as she settles into the bracket of his arms, holding as close as she thinks she might for the last time. She would not expect another, not with everything that had just passed.
and for that - her eyes lower. Where to start? How could she even begin? "You must... have questions for me."
He frowns slightly at that. This was not a conversation for him to begin. She is his wife, his love, and this was a great mercy he could not afford with his head reeling. No, she would have to find a beginning, a place to start and provide him context. That was the least she could do after keeping this hidden away from him, from her family.
"I would hope you would have an explanation before I asked anything."
Her eyes lower, her grimace slight. Frowning. It has been all this time, surely she would know how to start. But she hadn't planned for this, not now or ever. To ever let him know just what she was. What - like she wasn't a person. Like this lie went that far. But then, she remembered, the day she had been dropped into his office and spoken of her own home as she knew it, how he had looked at her. But it hadn't stopped him from taking her in, accepting her, loving her.
When she looks up again, there is for the first time, in so many years - regret. Pain. "Would you have believed me? Before this?"
There's a moment of hesitation there. Would he? Fact and reason always won out for him, he was reluctant to delve too deeply into supposition or assume anything. Finding the truth was what he always strived for and this would have been no different. But she was his wife and he trusted her. Even if that made how little he seemed to know about her hurt all the more.
"If you had told me, yes," he says finally. No sign of hesitation remains and he's confident, clear. "Not easily, but yes."
If it had come from her lips, through her voice, he would have believed her. Why would she lie after all else?
She turns her face away then, swallowing in a low contemplation about what needed to be done, in the immediate. The bloodied weapon, her ruined clothes. She knew she must be a sight. From the look of the guards when they had found her, it wasn't much of a supposition that she stepped out too far in her rage, her need to preserve him, their family, and slipped back to the woman who screamed herself hoarse over battlements, who took death in both her hands and begged it to do worse.
But it's faded away, in the face of all this. What's left after is a brutal and unforgiving thing between them and - she turns the blade over in her hand and steps away from him. Not to go far, just to the door that stood open, and the guard that was the other side of it. It's to him she gives the blade - she trusted a Barrayaran to its proper care far more than the last Komarran she saw attempt to clean the thing. A ruse - as she tells him to fetch her water, a cloth, and clean the blade. No, don't bother to replace someone at her position. If he did not mind, she needed a moment, with her husband, alone. He would understand, of course.
Waits there, a bid for time, until the guard comes back with just what she had asked and she takes it with a nod and a slow shut of the door behind her. She walks back to the low table of their rooms, and sets it down before she sits, and puts her hand into the water. She'll bathe, properly, after wards, but for now -
She needed to get some of this off her skin. And she starts, with water wet fingers trickling pink with diluted blood, to fish the phial from around her neck and over her head to let it drop and clatter onto the surface with a dull ring. "I was sixteen when I first met Sir Bors de Ganis. I did not know it then, but he was only one part of something far greater I would be witness to. My ... first husband was still alive then, and Jhansi attracted many travellers, after all - one lone Englishman did not seem - did not seem particularly strange." There's a hitch to the breath, she does her best to never speak of those days as they had happened to her, only that they happened at all. An observation of some other woman's life.
He sighs softly when she steps away from him. The apology is noted though he's far more interested in what words would be coming after that. Instead, she seems to be busying herself, likely to ground herself before she can speak freely. He keeps his hands at his sides, no matter how much they ached to hold her, and watches as she speaks with their guard, seemingly settles in to clean.
A slow nod as she starts to explain. If she was willing to speak now then he would listen for however long she needed to tell her story, as difficult as it clearly was. It was a part of her life he needed to know, wanted to know.
She nods, hovering on that taken in breathe, once her fingers are clean, she takes up the washcloth that had been given to her as well to let it soak in. Dropping it with a splash, turning it over to soak it through before she lifts it to squeeze off the excess water. Her wet, clean fingers move up to her hair, to push it out of her way as she begins at her neck, in slow strokes, beginning to clean the muck away.
"I did not know it then, but he was 900 years old."
She has heard his own people talk of Gods and Magic, the dismissive tone of any theism, and it had not bothered her. For them, it was a question of faith - but there was no faith when she knew such things. Such seemingly impossible thing. Perhaps now, after all these years, the way she could so easily laugh off the questions about her Gods being real. "He had fought in the days of King Arthur, and when others took up an eternal fight in England, he had left, to wander the world. Until the summer of that year, he walked into my husband's court."
"Nine hundred...?" What? His eyes widen as he studies her carefully, searching for any signs that she had misspoken or he had misheard her. No, that was what she said and meant.
He had told her he'd believe her. He had proof that something was... strange from the moment they had met, with her so far from time and place. Again now, he had seen her survive something no one should have. And now she speaks of someone who had lived for centuries, far beyond what anyone has now with the aid of genetic modifications and illegal practices.
"Did he say why he came to your kingdom?"
I never tagged this back so guess what I'm doing now
To that, Lakshmi can do not much more than shake her head. Because even after all these years, she remembered Bors face well, but that did not mean she had come to understand the man even now.
"No. He never said. I suspect at his age, he was tired of explaining things, so he simply didn't."
She can't in the end, offer much more than that.
"I did not know who he was, it didn't matter. He fought by my side, for my country. But when he finally died. He passed it on to me."
She fishes it out, then. That little silver phial. Perhaps Duv would find it a novelty, now. A piece of ancient history, perfectly preserved around her neck. Swinging pendulum like from her fingers.
"It is called the Blackwater. Some call it the holy grail. An immortal elixir. Those who drink it, do not age, they heal all wounds, with just one sip, every day, once a day, you may live for eternity."
Her eyes lower, he knows - the next bit, about the war. About what she had lost, how... How she had been forced to leave as her homeland burned. But here was the part she had always brushed over, "I was shot, through the heart." her hand hovers, just over it. he has seen that scar on her bare body, he has kissed that scar, breathed against it when he held her tightly. how many times, had he wondered about it? He was kind enough never to ask. "I had to choose. Whether I would die, pass on, or live and fight again." a swallow, a dry little laugh. "I think you know what is in my nature."
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At least until he reappears - and she has much, so much to explain. Doesn't know where to even begin - how long now, had she been keeping this? Long enough that it would start to become obvious soon, long enough that their children would age, he would age, and timeless, she would stand behind them. That one day, she might just outlive them all, if moments like this did not get her first.
Thoughts she had been putting off for years. Thoughts that right now, she nearly had to face sooner than she thought, and it burns so sharply in her throat as she watches him step into the room. Something she could not bear as she reaches for him. Her arms going around his neck - to kiss him hard and once, not for the sake of passion - but to make sure he was there and still alive. She couldn't, couldn't do this again. "The children - ?"
The only thing that mattered. Everything else could follow.
no subject
"They are fine," he answers, once their lips part. "And being taken care of. I made sure of it." After he had comforted them, made sure they were well himself. That was something he could not simply accept someone's word on.
no subject
and for that - her eyes lower. Where to start? How could she even begin? "You must... have questions for me."
no subject
"I would hope you would have an explanation before I asked anything."
no subject
When she looks up again, there is for the first time, in so many years - regret. Pain. "Would you have believed me? Before this?"
no subject
"If you had told me, yes," he says finally. No sign of hesitation remains and he's confident, clear. "Not easily, but yes."
If it had come from her lips, through her voice, he would have believed her. Why would she lie after all else?
no subject
She turns her face away then, swallowing in a low contemplation about what needed to be done, in the immediate. The bloodied weapon, her ruined clothes. She knew she must be a sight. From the look of the guards when they had found her, it wasn't much of a supposition that she stepped out too far in her rage, her need to preserve him, their family, and slipped back to the woman who screamed herself hoarse over battlements, who took death in both her hands and begged it to do worse.
But it's faded away, in the face of all this. What's left after is a brutal and unforgiving thing between them and - she turns the blade over in her hand and steps away from him. Not to go far, just to the door that stood open, and the guard that was the other side of it. It's to him she gives the blade - she trusted a Barrayaran to its proper care far more than the last Komarran she saw attempt to clean the thing. A ruse - as she tells him to fetch her water, a cloth, and clean the blade. No, don't bother to replace someone at her position. If he did not mind, she needed a moment, with her husband, alone. He would understand, of course.
Waits there, a bid for time, until the guard comes back with just what she had asked and she takes it with a nod and a slow shut of the door behind her. She walks back to the low table of their rooms, and sets it down before she sits, and puts her hand into the water. She'll bathe, properly, after wards, but for now -
She needed to get some of this off her skin. And she starts, with water wet fingers trickling pink with diluted blood, to fish the phial from around her neck and over her head to let it drop and clatter onto the surface with a dull ring. "I was sixteen when I first met Sir Bors de Ganis. I did not know it then, but he was only one part of something far greater I would be witness to. My ... first husband was still alive then, and Jhansi attracted many travellers, after all - one lone Englishman did not seem - did not seem particularly strange." There's a hitch to the breath, she does her best to never speak of those days as they had happened to her, only that they happened at all. An observation of some other woman's life.
no subject
A slow nod as she starts to explain. If she was willing to speak now then he would listen for however long she needed to tell her story, as difficult as it clearly was. It was a part of her life he needed to know, wanted to know.
"As long as you need," he murmurs.
no subject
"I did not know it then, but he was 900 years old."
She has heard his own people talk of Gods and Magic, the dismissive tone of any theism, and it had not bothered her. For them, it was a question of faith - but there was no faith when she knew such things. Such seemingly impossible thing. Perhaps now, after all these years, the way she could so easily laugh off the questions about her Gods being real. "He had fought in the days of King Arthur, and when others took up an eternal fight in England, he had left, to wander the world. Until the summer of that year, he walked into my husband's court."
no subject
He had told her he'd believe her. He had proof that something was... strange from the moment they had met, with her so far from time and place. Again now, he had seen her survive something no one should have. And now she speaks of someone who had lived for centuries, far beyond what anyone has now with the aid of genetic modifications and illegal practices.
"Did he say why he came to your kingdom?"
I never tagged this back so guess what I'm doing now
"No. He never said. I suspect at his age, he was tired of explaining things, so he simply didn't."
She can't in the end, offer much more than that.
"I did not know who he was, it didn't matter. He fought by my side, for my country. But when he finally died. He passed it on to me."
She fishes it out, then. That little silver phial. Perhaps Duv would find it a novelty, now. A piece of ancient history, perfectly preserved around her neck. Swinging pendulum like from her fingers.
"It is called the Blackwater. Some call it the holy grail. An immortal elixir. Those who drink it, do not age, they heal all wounds, with just one sip, every day, once a day, you may live for eternity."
Her eyes lower, he knows - the next bit, about the war. About what she had lost, how... How she had been forced to leave as her homeland burned. But here was the part she had always brushed over, "I was shot, through the heart." her hand hovers, just over it. he has seen that scar on her bare body, he has kissed that scar, breathed against it when he held her tightly. how many times, had he wondered about it? He was kind enough never to ask. "I had to choose. Whether I would die, pass on, or live and fight again." a swallow, a dry little laugh. "I think you know what is in my nature."
Giving up had never been a choice she made.