An empty bottle rested with Sephiria, cradled like a precious possession, the woman's head bowed until it touched against her knees. The simple nightgown she wore trailed over the edge of the bed and to the floor as her legs were propped up on it, tucked tight against the side of the mattress. She was numb from the grief she felt in knowing she would never hear Avreal's gentle voice again. The loss of her second dearest friend had been as painful as the day she watched Lucetta die. She'd even kept her distance from Thorne, as she knew all too well the struggle of watching one's love pass away or discovering their death.
What made it so much worse was that she never got the chance to apologize to her.
So much had been misunderstood so quickly, and Sephiria had been oblivious to what had been right before her eyes; Thorne seemed to have some feelings for the vampire, feelings that Seph could not have recognized on her own. Avreal and herself had debated it hotly one night, and the very next day she had become caught in the crossfires of battle and lost. That was perhaps the greatest sword in the back for she who had lost so much already, and yet all she could think of now was how Thorne was holding up. She set the bottle down, having held it to her lips or her bosom for several hours and perhaps days, and stepped off the bed to leave her secluded chamber in her friend's home.
When she was a few feet away from the door, he took it upon himself to throw it open and stand before her. Thorne was coated in the oaky scent of whiskey and messy in appearance, his peppery hair touseled from his calloused hands running through it so often as he'd cried for his beloved wife.
His eyes were bloodshot, as were hers.
"
Miss Tepes
..." The elder vampire began, then silenced himself as he noticed her own appearance. He had been so preoccupied with his own grief that he'd failed to realize how it had impacted the one who'd been his wife's dear friend and ally. He took in the sight of her puffy eyes and swollen lips from her grief-driven sobbing and sighed, rubbing the back of his head. "..
Perhaps now isn't the time
."
"
...Th-Lord Alexe...Ach. Lord Black, forgive me. I was about to come and seek you out myself. Come, sit. You look terrible, my friend."
Sephiria laid a hand on his shoulder and began to lead him to a chair at her desk to sit, only for him to stand still. It was out of morose habit, a mask she was putting on in order to entertain her friend and ensure he was alright, and his stillness and resistance to her urge for him to follow made her realize that he saw through it.
How?
She turned back to look at him, confused. Again, she attempted. "
...Lord Black? You're not intruding, you're more than welco-!"
His left arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her against his broad chest, her ear against his heart. She could hear it hammering there, finally relaxing enough to let herself sense what he was feeling, and was surprised with what she discovered. There was his pain, raw and visceral. There was anger, directed toward Avreal's death. Yet buried in deep within him was also something else, that which he'd locked completely for an unknown length of time. In any other state she would question his motives and wonder if it was real, but in that moment of alcohol and grief-driven exhaustion she wanted nothing more than to accept the affection being given. He felt warm. Safe. Comforting.
Her arms slid around and up against his back, and she listened.
"
Sephiria...you have served our family so well, on top of that you have been a wonderful friend to my wife and myself. I never thanked you for that. I was also not honest with you, perhaps not even honest with myself and certainly not honest with her."
Thorne waited for a moment to ensure she wouldn't pull away, then wrapped his other arm around her and buried his nose in the crook of her throat. She could feel the coolness of more tears falling, dripping against her baring shoulder as her nightgown shifted from the position of his face. She lost the ability to hold back at the mention of her friend as well, his tunic staining with crimson which drained from her eyes. He seemed to notice this and cooed to her quietly, raising a hand to her hair and stroking the back of her skull in an effort to ease her. "
...I know. We both have not done too well. This is not a good time to come to this revelation either, but I cannot remain dishonest when you are close."
He tilted her chin up carefully and met her gaze with oceanic blues, which served to mesmerize her enough to listen despite the streaks of blood that painted her fair face. She remained silent, but nodded as a signal for him to continue. She'd been listening the entire time...she was simply unsure of what to expect, and in no state to think or respond clearly and concisely. He wanted her calm and happy, a reprieve from the pain they both felt.
He had an idea of how to do that, but he needed to know one thing.
"
Do you trust me?"
Sephiria seemed to calm down enough at hearing this question to be able to give him an incredulous expression of disbelief. "
You know that I do. I swore my sword and my very life to your House."
"No, Seph, that's not what I mean. As a man, do you trust
me
?"
Thorne searched her eyes, seeing how they changed from confusion to realization. His mouth softened as he looked at her and parted slightly, as if to speak again, but he didn't. She did.
"
...Of course, Thorne. I do trust you."
He nodded, then lifted her in his arms and carried her out of her room. "
I'm going to hold you to those words tonight. I need your complete faith in me, in what I say and what I do, and that I have no intention of hurting you in any way."
He walked down the hall with her until he approached his own quarters, opening the door to them and setting her down on his bed after closing and locking it.
As she'd been carried, Sephiria had been more than a little confused by it all.
Why did he ask? Where are we going? He's never carried me, Christ, what on earth is-
"Oh!"
She found herself on his bed, in his room, alone. Door locked, no one nearby, as he had walked over to a cabinet and began to rummage through. "
Thorne, I trust you, but-"
"Then you'll let me show you what I have planned. We have both talked and cried, yet the one thing Avreal would have wanted was our happiness."
Thorne turned to face her, his hands holding something behind his back as he approached. He stood in front of the woman with a gentle yet stern expression, a soft smile on his lips. "
My wife was stubborn like you. She worried and believed she had to be in control in order for things to run properly. She was a born leader, much like yourself, and suffered hardships of her own. However, as her husband, it was my job and my honor to help her relax and remember she was loved when she needed it most. It was my job at her side to occasionally take the reins."
His hands moved slowly away from his back, revealing what he held. It was intricately woven rope, thin but strong, and a strip of silk. Sephiria's eyes naturally followed his hands and was even more lost than before, however she could see the conviction in his body language and the tone he used when he spoke to her.
Perhaps, just for a night...she
could
let go.
What harm could it possibly bring?
He had never given her reason to fear him before, and certainly wasn't doing so now, even if he
was
being quite confoundingly strange. The doubts that rang in her head were simply noise, and she knew that he was right. There was something she could see that he needed to say and do, and he needed her undivided focus and unquestioning trust.
She nodded.
Thorne seemed relieved to see her do this, his body language loosening. "
I'll be honest, I was not quite so sure that you would be so compliant..."
He spoke gently as he moved close to her, leaving his hips inches away from her face before kneeling before her. She couldn't look away from him then, not now. "
Take a deep breath with me, and close your eyes."
He inhaled slowly through his nostrils, guiding her to do the same.
She mimicked him, a slow intake of air circulating in her longs through her own nose. As he exhaled through his mouth, she followed suit and then let her eyelids flutter shut with the wave of calm the breath brought her.
Thorne watched this carefully for a moment to ensure she wouldn't try to peek through and then nodded, reaching over slowly for the piece of scrap silk. He took it in his hands and stretched it evenly, positioning it over her beautiful eyes and tied it securely against the back of her head. He sensed a growing worry in her once he'd done this and he laid a palm against her soft cheek, stroking there with the side of his thumb. "
Easy now, war-chieftress. There is no enemy to fight here. Focus on what you actually
feel
me doing, not on what your mind is telling you to feel. Keep breathing."
He let her hear himself performing the breathing she needed to mimic, and smiled gently as she obeyed. "
That's it. Good. Don't speak, Seph...let me teach you something tonight. Something that I know you don't know very well.
"
Sephiria nodded again, continuing the breathing method he'd taught her. She held back the urge to flinch as his hands grazed against her ankles, taking in them the hem of her nightgown. The fabric was shifted upward and the edge laid upon her lap, covering her
just
