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Graha was mostly sure it was mutual, whatever this was.
Of course the doubt would creep in some days, whispering to him that he was just tagging along a fantasy that didn’t exist. Perhaps she was simply placating him, pity allowing for affection to take place. But as time went on and with every small step he made to affirm his feelings to her, the more sure he became that she could not be this patient to lie for this long. Surely it was mutual.
Ever since his triumphant return to the Source, he had been overcome with these conflicting emotions, these anxieties. Graha would often feel the confidence of the Exarch in everyday tasks, in battle, in research, but somehow with matters of connection and social standing it would wane into the shadows, and he would feel out of place once more. The Scions continued to affirm for him that he had earned his place there, earned their respect and friendship without a doubt, and while he was grateful, it mattered naught. The whispers continued.
No words weighed heavier than that of the Warrior of Light, who often had no words at all. She instead would bestow him a rare and personal smile, a breach in proximity that felt meaningful and tender, and it was those moments where he was sure he was wanted, and unhealthy as he knew that was.
It had been a whirlwind of events following his return, and soon they found themselves in close quarters more often, together on the voyage to his old stomping grounds, within the Baldesion Annex itself, within the library and the gazebo and more. He could count the times where their shoulders had touched, both deep in books until exhaustion overtook them. Even when duty took them to the far north where the bitter cold of Garlemald had them closer than ever for the sheer necessity of warmth, her hand had somehow made its way to his and he felt more assured than ever.
And so it came as a shock when she returned from her body possession by the crown prince of Garlemald withdrawn and avoiding him at every turn. Graha could not find a way to approach her, though he understood why she might feel as such. But he wanted to help, if he could.
Thancred and Yshtola both had their own theories on the matter (for apparently she had not just withdrawn from him, but from them all). “It’s an incredibly invasive experienced,” Thancred had said, speaking directly from experience that Graha had up til then been entirely unaware of, “She will likely come around, as I did, when she finally feels fully in control of herself again.” Yshtola on the other hand had simply said, “Ask her about it,” with a firmness that implied it was that easy. Perhaps that is what she had done.
But that was not Graha’s style, nor was there seemingly a correct moment to do so. The events of the Final Days were relentless, whipping them all about in ways entirely unforeseen and draining in more ways than one. The Miqote did not even have a moment before he found them both running through Radz-at-Han, exhausted and panicked as they scoured the city for Blasphemies and survivors alike. She had been pushing herself nonstop, he knew, not taking a moment to even complain or explain anything that had transpired in Garlemald, on the Moon, nothing. And though it wasn’t really any of his business (and he did NOT want to pry what wasn’t for him), he could not in good conscience simply leaves things unspoken when the world had begun to end all around them.
“Wait!”
He took hold of her hand as she had begun to ascend the stairs in a deserted part of the myriad halls within the city, and she turned to look at him with a face that remained unreadable, as if she could not think of anything else besides their mission. He hated this side of her, hated whatever methods had made this the way she dealt with things. A part of him wondered if the events he had put her through on the First had contributed to this attitude, and he hated that too. Hated what he had done, thought she had never blamed him for it (outright).
“What?” she asked, not unkindly but with a tone that showed impatience. He gulped, letting her hand go with sudden embarrassment. She did not continue, to his relief, realizing that something weighed heavily on him that she needed to hear. She was so good at listening. He hoped he was worth listening to.
“You are not well, have not been for a while,” he said, holding firm with all the strength he could muster, “We do not know what entirely what we are up against, and while I have been happy to give you the space you need, I need to know if something has… changed. For you.” Graha was trying so hard not to make it about him, it was NOT about him, but with every word he felt more and more selfish, like this was the wrong time, that he had marred an otherwise perfect record of minding his own business.
She did not answer for a moment, her eyes widening at his words.
“Ah, I guess I have not been very communicative, have I?” Her voice was soft as she descended again to return to his side, though she did not reach out as she had started to do before all this began. He ached to reach out, but his arms remained locked in place, refusing to act.
“A lot has happened of course, but nothing seems to make sense sometimes,” the Warrior said, “I… have yet to confront my own feelings about what happened in the First, or even here at home, and how it has affected all of this, all these people… even me. And I don’t know if I can find the words to…” She trailed off, biting her lip in a way he did not see her do often. Something truly had changed, then, there was no more doubt in Graha’s mind. But like himself, she seemed to struggle on explaining how she felt. It was something both of them shared, an occasional lack of articulation that made them comfortable in each other’s silence. And yet in this moment the silence felt heavy and suffocating.
“When Zenos possessed you… did something else happen? Or on the moon when you pursued him?” He dreaded the answer. He did not dare imagine.
“No! No, I… I’m just tired, I think…” He searched her expression for answers, noting how unusually rigid she was, hiding her body language from him. He felt the knots in his stomach tighten, and he could not help the hot, angry feeling in his chest as he stepped forward, releasing his restrictions from his body for once.
He grabbed her arm again, pulling her into him as he made to kiss her, their first. Blessedly he did not miss, and as he locked his lips on hers he felt her flinch, and much to his surprise she did not pull away. They stood frozen in time, letting the contact distract from the wailing and fire and hell that surrounded them and all of Radz-at-Han for a moment. Eventually he pulled back, and she was looking at him fully now, eyes wide and fierce and somehow he felt seen for the first time since leaving on this perilous journey together.
“If words fail you, I will wait until they are ready. Nothing you say would change how I feel.” he said, voice low and serious as he stood his ground inches from her. Graha’s entire body felt electric, like a current had passed through them both. She squeezed his hand before nodding, and she began her search once more, energy seemingly renewed. He stood there for a second to watch her go, her sword and shield glinting from the fire and strife around them.
His choice had worked, and soon they had both found further strength to handle the chaos around them. He hadn’t quite felt the strength of the Exarch in quite a while, and when he watched her chase into the trees with the rest of the Scions he was almost sure she had glanced back at him for a moment before disappearing into the brush.
The moment went forgotten in the midst of the aftermath, and before he knew it she was gone, back to the First to find answers from one of their felled Ascians. While he was not worried, he began to worry as the days drew out and the fights continued to come. And when she appeared once more, somehow, he was dismayed that something about her had changed, again. Graha was beginning to wonder if there were depths to the Warrior of Light, unseen threads of fate that would never be privy to him, or any of them for that matter. It seemed more clear now that she was special, and the more those reasons became clear to her, the farther it took her from them.
From him.
Graha internalized the feeling, and before long he had buried it so far down that he had nearly forgotten it, as busy as they were. It wasn’t until the eve of their departure in the Ragnarok, the Scions celebrating what could very well be their last living night on Hydaelyn, that he was finding those doubts again at the bottom of a rather deep bottle.
“Raha,” Alisaie said, more sternly than usual as she watched him down another shot. He did not reply, opting to pretend he had not heard at all, but he could not ignore her taking the entire handle from him as he attempted to pour another.
“Give it back, Alisaie,”
“No,” she said, and through the grog of the liquor he was surprised the usual levity was gone from her face. This was serious. “There is only so much time left, you should go find the Warrior of Light and finally talk to her .”
“She doesn’t want to talk,” he muttered, feeling surprisingly sure of his answer. He didn’t want to bring up something she was not ready to talk about, not after so much miscommunication. Not on the eve of their potential death. He'd rather not ruin the mood.
“You’re right,” came a brisk reply as Estinien entered the Last Stand. Alisaie pulled out a chair for him, which he refused, apparently just passing through for a bottle.
“See?” Graha said pointedly at Alisaie, who still looked unconvinced, “She’s probably determined to be alone with her thoughts, as is her wont,”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Estinien chided dryly, popping a bottle open with a dagger easily, “You should still go find her.”
“But I thought you said-”
“-That she doesn’t want to talk.” Estinien took a heavy swig, earning a shared glance between the two witnessing Scions. It seemed even the Azure Dragoon was finding reasons to blur the mind this evening. Graha could not blame him. Mortality seemed to weigh heavily on each of the Scions as the night drew on. Thancred and Urianger had long since disappeared from the group altogether. Yshtola had mentioned traveling to see Master Matoya one last time, Tataru and Krile had been seen having coffee by the harbor in preparation of one last all nighter of double checking that all was in order for their voyage. Even Alisae had places to be, joining Alphinaud at their family home to spend time with their parents before their fated departure.
“Have you considered that perhaps it is not words but action that the Warrior of Light needs right now?” Estinien said, eyes rolling to meet Graha’s directly in a way that was rather pointed. Perhaps even suggestive, though he could not be sure. It didn’t really seem plausible.
“Please expound, for I’m not sure I understand,”
Estinient soured at that, and to Graha’s surprise the Elezen man walked up to him and near broke the bottle he carried upon the table with the force of his placement. The sound of it made both Graha and Alisaie jump, but Estinien paid the twin no mind as he leaned in close to the Miqote. “Aren’t you like a royal or something? Some strong leader of revolution with centuries of wisdom and some such?” Graha felt his face flush at the accusation, not really considering himself royal at all, despite what his eyes meant otherwise. “We only ever get so much time,” Estinien continued, eyes piercing into his own with a directness he had never experienced from the man before. “You would be a fool to waste what little we have left drinking by yourself here, afraid of your own words, or hers.” Graha barely registered the sound Alisaie made next to him, as if to stifle a noise of approval, or smugness, he was not sure. The gears in his mind began to turn, and his face felt hot as he realized that he suddenly had somewhere else he needed to be. He stood abruptly, the shock of this realization moving his body for him. Estinien smirked, satisfied at the response. Graha’s feet carried him onward, failing to hear the dragoon telling Alisaie that he’d be at the Palace, that Alphinaud was waiting for her. Naught else seemed to register as his mind went down a checklist of places she could possibly be, making his way to every place he could think of.
He was quite sure she would not have left the city without telling anyone, but he could not find her at the Baldesion Annex, nor the Studium or the some of the more secluded spots within Labyrinthos. As he descended deeper into the facility, he suddenly got a sense of clarity, and on a hunch began to make his way to the ship that would take them to the edge of the universe. Much to his surprise, the hangar was quiet, most of the scientists congregated on the outside. He found it an easy task to sneak on board, marveling at what would be their place of refuge on the morrow.
It was not nearly as spacious inside, and he was grateful that he found it easy to navigate to the corridors beyond the bridge.
He found her in one of the lodging areas. The rooms were plain but effective for their purpose, a bed, a small fridge, a door to a latrine and shower: everything one would possibly need on a trip. She turned upon his entry, and he felt the shame rise to his face as her face reddened at the sight of him, though she did not tell him to leave. He would not blame her if she had, but he was determined to follow through with the gift he had been bestowed by their colleague. He would have to treat the dragoon to a thank you gift later.
“You were hard to find,” he said gently, taking a seat beside her, noting her own bottle she had brought along with her. It was not empty yet, a good sign. She followed his gaze, before giving him a wry smile, a show of being caught in a vice.
“Sometimes being the Warrior of Light has its perks,” she said with a tired chuckle, “People tend to not follow.” Again, the knot in his chest made itself known, but he swallowed it down. She was not talking about him, but he felt guilty nonetheless.
They sat in silence for a moment, enjoying the mechanical buzzing that surrounded them. He felt her fingers find his own as she laced them together, tension leaving his body with this very act. He had forgotten how much such a small token of her affection could affect him. He adjusted, gripping her hand properly with an affirming squeeze. The noise that had permeated their sphere since this adventure began… he wondered if this was a regular thing she sought out: silence. He of course had no idea what it was like to be her, but he knew a thing or two about the weight of many lives upon his shoulders, and how sometimes just being alone was a comfort in and of itself. He could recall many times how he had hid himself in the Crystal Tower, unable to bear the looks of hope, of expectation, upon the citizens' faces if he were to wander the Crystarium.
“I need something from you,” he said quietly, breaking the silence. He felt her shift to look at him, but he did not dare look back. Not yet. “You need to tell me what you need,” he continued, calm as he could, “I am willing to be… anything you want from me. You need only ask and I would give it.” He lifted her gaze to hers, ruby meeting that vast and endless blue as her face wrinkled in a look he could only describe as pain, and then shame. He gripped her hand harder, urging himself to continue. “Speak to me, and I will act.”
“Raha…” Her voice was barely above a whisper, her eyes screwed shut in thought. He waited, letting her prioritize her thoughts. If he could, he would do anything for the Warrior of Light. He already established he would die for her, but somehow it had escaped him that perhaps anxieties and doubts plagued her just as much as it did anyone else. She was still mortal after all, a regular person at the end of the day.
“I’m sorry I’ve been so distant, so much has been going on, it’s… only gotten more complicated, I guess.” She paused, before bringing his eyes to his. “I honestly just don’t know.” His heart raced watching the flush that crept to her face, and Estinien’s words echoed in his mind.
it is not words but action that the Warrior of Light needs right now
aren’t you like a royal or something
you would be a fool to waste what little we have left
Graha gulped quietly, and in the silence he understood: there were no words for what she wanted.
He took her face gently, surprising her with sudden touch, and for a moment they simply looked at each other. Graha saw it then, that intense look that she had given him in Radz-at-Han, daring him, begging him.
She did not want to make the first move, as she did all else in her life. She needed someone else to take the burden of leadership, to ease the weight, to show her that she was wanted and needed in a different capacity.
Graha did not hesitate, closing in on her in one swift motion as their lips locked upon each other. Their previous kiss had been chaste, but this felt entirely different. This kiss felt hot, like a star bursting with energy and life and motion. He pressed further, introducing his tongue to her without the grace of permission, but she welcomed him anyway, pulling him tighter to her as he wound his fingers into her hair. He drank deeply into her affection, devouring every ilm she gave him, taking every opening there was.
“I will make you forget,” he breathed into her cheek as he made his way down her jaw, nipping at every crevice he could, “Whatever burdens you carry, I will have them all.” He suckled at her collar, leaving a mark of possession upon her that procured a heady whine from her throat. He rewarded her with more, trailing the marks down her shoulder as he embraced her fully, trapping her in his form with ease. Though her skin was unbelievably firm from continued fighting and action, it relented and burned with each bite he placed upon her. The Miqote aimed to overwhelm her, til there was naught else to think of but him and his actions. He would not relent.
“O-Oh, Raha!” came her mangled cry as he felt her arch her back into him, and he took the opportunity to pull her legs apart as he snaked his hand down her abdomen and further south. It wasn’t often she wasn’t fully armored, ready at any given notice, but tonight she had foregone such cautions for a simple Sharlayan tunic and shorts, an outfit to hide away in. It gave his eyes easy access to all her scars and imperfections, and he was thrumming with gratitude as he was able to move past her smalls with ease.
“I want all of you, every scar” he growled, finding her folds already slick and eager for him. His fingers began to work slowly, exploring in studious, meticulous gestures, memorizing every reaction as she squirmed against him. She was grabbing at him, holding onto his clothing and thigh for dear life as he worked her up. Graha’s face felt hot at the realization that if she wanted to she could easily escape from his grasp, the difference in their strength unmistakably vast. But she was letting him take his time, despite her mewls and incessant nuzzling. Taking liberties, Graha took hold of her breast, pulling and twisting the firm apex there through the fabric as he inserted a curled finger into her wetness.
She gasped against him, not bothering to stifle herself. Graha felt her clench at him greedily, and he could feel himself get hard against her back. Before long he would not be able to hold back his own need, he knew, but he was determined to get the most out of this foreplay for her.
“Tell me what you want,” he breathed in her ear, his own voice becoming raspy with need. He began to twirl his fingers around her most sensitive node, noting her bucking motions as she struggled to answer him. Receiving no answer, Graha bit at her ear, his fingers hastening.
“I-I want…” she managed, rocking against his hand greedily, “I want you to show me h-how much you care.” He felt his entire world shift as her words fell over him. She turned her head as best she could to look at him, “I want you, Graha.”
He pulled her in close as he bit down hard on her neck with a feral affection, his hand taking her whole breast into an unforgiving squeeze as he brought her to climax, relishing every shudder he managed to wring out of her. He could barely comprehend that such an answer would be given, but as her body began to move in slower bursts he felt compelled to ease her slowly down into a steady heart rate, burying his face in her shoulder in a tight embrace.
They sat there for a moment, held to each other in a sweaty knot as their breath fell into a matching pace. It was then that Graha shifted, leaving the bed in favor of the floor as he pulled her to him across the mattress. The Warrior of Light did not resist, perhaps too exhausted from her orgasm to consider it, and soon the Miqote had her legs over his shoulders the way he wanted. He shivered at the proximity, at the simple touch of her strong thighs encasing him, but he did not let that deter him from his work. Anchoring himself to her hips, he began his onslaught of kisses and bites down the insides of her thighs, enjoying keeping her in place as she instinctively tried to run from the sensitive marks. He would have been inclined the stop at these motions, but with a firm grasp on his hair he felt sure she did not want that at all.
“Whether you are ready or not, my love,” Graha growled, and he brought his tongue down to gently circle her, following the path he had mapped before with expert precision. She lit up, and he could feel her flex under his grasp as he began to taste every fold, every drip that had emerged from his previous workings on her. He hummed as he drowned in her flavor, his senses overwhelmed. Everything about her made him feel mad right now, overcome with a desire to let go and claim her. He let his tongue flick in and out of her sex at his whimsy, enjoying every buck into him, the Warrior of Light crying his name softly over and over. His entire heart felt like it was floating, hot and heavy but light and thrumming all at once. How long had he dreamed of taking care of her like this, of being so enveloped in her essence that the aether around them stilled and time itself seemed to stop. He felt alive, and when he brought his gaze up to meet her, he watched with an uncountable amount of love at how her face contorted, her desire evident across her flushed face, her breath hitching at the intense eye contact he was giving her as she arched into his mouth and came, her juices flowing down his chin as he suckled at her sensitive parts with a hunger he could no longer hold back.
He stayed there as he watched her breathe as he lapped up what remained of her orgasm, giving her but a moment of rest as he contemplated if she would let him go even farther. Would that be crossing a line? Had she waited for him here in this secluded bedroom in this marvel of magitech with naught but linens to not want more? Would she not want him to ask?
A gentle pull of his hair brought him back to the present, as he noted the soft pets she gave the top of his head with her hand, eyeing him from the far end of the mattress. She said nothing, but Graha felt that perhaps in this case she did not need to. She looked content, yet tired, a smile gracing him with renewed energy. He crawled up to meet her, kissing her softly before collapsing next to her in a sweaty daze. They simply breathed for a moment, their hands intertwined once more. It was a comfort that in the end words had not been needed. He often got so lost in them that he could not find his original purpose, but he did not feel that way now. He could only think of how she made him feel, how he could make her feel.
A small whisper of worry came to the front of his mind to mar his mood, and while he tried to push it away, he thought also maybe now would be a good time to ask.
“My beloved,” he said, turning to face her. She copied him, giving her full attention, and he could feel the assurance radiating off her. “I hope I am not… coming off as ungrateful, but I worry that there are perhaps people you would prefer to give your love to. That it might be harder to love those people, and I am just… the easy choice.”
“Oh dear,” she whispered, and she reached out cup his face, turning her body to him fully now, “It is not about being easy. You are the person that feels like home, that feels permanent.” Graha flushed, it was more than he could have dreamed of, but she continued. “Others have offered… things less tangible, for sure. But I wonder if I will be able to find my way back to you and the others if I follow those paths, as tempting as they are.” Graha was sure he was wearing a face of mild confusion, for he could not be sure whom exactly she was referring to with these vague descriptions, but she shook her head. “Those paths do not go where I want to go. You have always wanted what I have, peace and a grand adventure. Where I find you, I also find rest.” Pressing his forehead to hers, Graha let out a breath he had not known he was holding, and a relieved chuckled echoed into the room.
“I cannot believe it is only here at the eve of our death that we have found understanding.” He could feel the tears well up as the now sad and nervous laughter began to spill forth from his lips without control, “I’ve been such a fool.” Graha could not stop the tears now, and they proceeded to grow more numerous as the Warrior of Light wiped them from his cheek, her own tears now falling.
“We will live,” she said in her strong, optimistic way. It was the tone of voice that he had heard from her first all those years ago when they entered the Crystal Tower for the first time, and he’d believed it then. “We will come home,”
He clutched at the hand on his face, bestowing a kiss on her knuckles before meeting her eyes with all the ferocity he could muster.
“Promise me, no matter what happens, you will come back to us. You won’t… you won’t do something reckless just because you can.”
She did not speak, taking a moment to look at him with all the openness he had ever seen her give, before beaming at him kindly. Though he felt this was not truly a promise, he felt surprisingly assured by her answer, “I’ll find a way back. I always do.”