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knittingpaths · 2 years

Text

healing

Liezel dreams and reminisces of people she’s loved in the past. She also thinks about someone today she loves now. Or at least, she thinks she loves him.

Content Warnings: angst but it gets better, more so hurt/comfort, grief/mourning, character death

Relationships: Multiple past familial/platonic relationships w/ MC, Blade/MC

Word Count: [falls over] 6115, apparently

There’s a memory when you’re nine years old and the sun burns the sky, warming the air around you as orange and gold leaves fall from the trees. Your mother brushes your blonde hair as you wrap the soft, smooth red ribbon around your brown knuckles, looping it around again and again until it gets too tight and you let it loosen.

Somewhere in the near distance you hear your father speaking with the other residents. Somewhere in the further distance, you hear your friend Zori calling your name as her feet pound across smooth dirt. Somewhere in your own mind, you are at peace and the world feels so light.

A moving image of a life that is smudged, empty blots blossoming in the sky and within the grass and dirt, and yet it still feels so close. It does not feel like a real memory but you can still pretend that this, surely, must still be the life that you have. And you cannot yet understand otherwise, because everyone you love is still right here in Westwood.

Here is your father and he is still strong.

Here is your mother and her hands are warm on your head.

Here is Zori and she is smiling and laughing so brightly.

And here’s you, and you are nine years old on a hot autumn day and the sun feels like it would never set.

Here’s you and you’re still happy, you’re still smiling and the world around you does not feel so heavy, because you don’t need to understand yourself and your grief through the eyes of someone else yet.

Here’s you–

II.

Now awake again.

Liezel stiffens on her mattress, her hands shaking as something grips her heart and digs its claws into it. Tears spring to her eyes and sobs threaten to bubble and burst from her chest, but they break apart before they make it past her teeth. So instead they cleave through her ribcage, through her lungs, over and over again until Liezel forces herself to grasp her strength again and hold it tight.

Tonight is a cold, quiet night of howling wind and lonely stars, and tonight is also the night that Liezel takes a bath again. She will not seek out Belnus to comfort her, she knows what he’d say. So Liezel skips right to the bath and lets the cold water over her head wash away and cool her thoughts, lets the water mix with her tears, lets it heal the pain in her chest until the cracks no longer threaten to tear themselves wide open.

Still, when she returns back from her bath, Liezel chooses to check on Belnus anyway. For all of his faults, she knows that he’s been getting weaker by the day. She knows that she still loves him, and she knows that he loves her too. And that’s why Liezel wants to keep him alive, in some way, somehow.

No matter how much he tries to deny it, Belnus is brittle. Really, he had been ever since the first time Liezel met him, when his leg was sprained and he was stuck in a ditch, but at least then there was still a tangible semblance of strength in him. But now, in the years that have passed, Liezel fears that he is nearing the end of his life.

The thought terrifies her more than she would admit aloud.

Belnus, for as long as Liezel has known him, is dry laughter and scathing words while his eyes betray a hint of affection. He is stubbornness and frustration and protection and endearment all at once, he is sharp and loving all the same.

He is not death or illness, not weakness and palpable frailty. Liezel just can’t imagine him as such.

When Liezel opens the door to his space, Belnus is barely holding on to his wits, sitting down and slouched over at the edge of his bed. Her heart pounds when at first she thinks that he’s in danger, then it soothes as she realizes that this can still be fixed. With a sigh, Liezel approaches him.

“Please go to bed,” Liezel murmurs. Belnus mutters something unintelligible to Liezel’s ears, but he doesn’t put up much of a fight when Liezel gently guides him to a laying down position. She slides some soft pillows beneath his head, making sure that he’s resting comfortably. “Just get some sleep.”

For a moment there is only silence in the room and the only sound that can be heard is crickets chirping their chorus outside of the veiled window. Silence, and then a chuckle cracks out of Belnus. “I don’t say this enough,” he mumbles, and the words are barely understandable between his teeth. “But you’re…”

Liezel tilts her head, and she waits.

But Belnus doesn’t finish his sentence. Whatever words he has shrivels in his throat and dies on his tongue, and Belnus closes his eyes. His weak breathing is all Liezel needs to know that he’s finally fallen asleep.

This has become more common within these past months. Belnus’ lucidity blurs where his age starts to show, and her heart cannot help but ache when she sees how washed out and pale his skin looks, how sunken in his body is. There is no shying away from the very real certainty that he will not stay forever.

That soon, he will join the image of her parents and her best friend in her nightmares.

III.

This is another memory, and Belnus is stronger and sharper here.

You are younger, weaker, and this time you are on your knees as your body convulses with barely contained sobs. Hiccups surface and float out of your mouth as sorrow grips you tightly and you can’t help but wonder how pathetic you must look now. How much your mentor must hate you for this now.

“I-I’m…” Weak, pathetic, breakable are all the words that pass through your mind in that moment. You cannot get the words out, but you can guess that Belnus already knows what you’re thinking. The more time you spend with him, the more you always feel he can pinpoint every nerve in you clearer.

“Go bathe.”

There is no real cruelty in his voice, no real dismissiveness in his words, but the words do cut through you anyway. You cry harder but you are caught between bawling loudly and trying to contain your despair to yourself. But still, you can hear your mentor’s voice loud and clear.

“So you’re weak right now,” Belnus says. He does not move to approach you still, he does not move to wrap his arms around you to comfort you the way you’re used to others doing, but there is conviction in his voice. Enough that it helps ground you, before your mind could spiral further into the abyss. “Look at yourself. You’re a mess.”

Still, you can’t help but agree with it. How could you not be right now?

“So then, who was that girl yesterday who was watering the flowers, hm?” You aren’t sure if Belnus’ voice becomes firmer or if it gentles, but regardless the words push themselves into your heart. “Who was that girl a week ago who was writing all my letters and smiling without a single care?”

You know that he’s referring to you, because it can’t be anyone else but you. Your knees scrape against the rough wooden floor as you lower your head slightly. The words repeat in your head over and over again as your thoughts are punctuated by the shaking of your chest.

It’s you, and it’ll always be you. You are fragile and you are bearing your broken heart to the world around you but before you were smiling and keeping any joy and pleasure close to your chest as you let sunlight shower upon you like a crown. Both of these are you.

And, perhaps, that means…

Belnus half-sighs, half-groans. “You are your own best healer,” he tells her. And it’s all he needs to say. The wheels in your head turn and turn and turn, but they land on the same thoughts no matter how many times they do.

Healing is the lesson you were burdened to learn.

Healing is the blessing you were born with.

You are always going to be the one to heal yourself, first and foremost, because of this.

He lets you cry, and soon he coaxes you into finally taking that bath. You let the cold water on your head wash away your thoughts, down and down and down until it’s swirling beneath your feet.

By the next morning, the sun feels warmer than it usually does and there is Belnus on his chair, with a book in his hands.

In relief, in gratefulness, in unprompted happiness, you smile at him.

For today, it’s enough.

IV.

Liezel thinks that Belnus is still asleep when, a few weeks later, she checks in on him early in the morning. It’s an unusually quiet morning as the sun creeps higher and higher up into the sky and the moon lays itself to rest. But she is quick to pick up on the lack of breath aside from her own, and something jolts through her blood.

She doesn’t fall apart right away because Liezel is confident that she can still somehow fix this. But when she’s confronted with his body, any sentences in her mind all stop short and fracture. She cannot recall any spells that could help, and her hands and tongue feel more useless than they’ve ever been before.

Instead, Liezel sits down, her hands folded limply across her lap. Inside her bones shake but outwardly she is deathly still. She feels sick but her body cannot call up any bile to throw up, it can barely move at all. Vast, heavy emptiness settles into the space between her lungs and she knows that she must move on, the way she had before.

The sight is both clear and blurred to her as she digs a grave for her mentor. It mixes in with a similar moment, some years back, and Liezel doesn’t know if she feels just as helpless now as she felt then. But this is something that she must do, because Belnus never talked much of his own past. She does not know if there will be anyone to claim him or bury him, and furthermore she does not want to leave him to any stranger to lay him to rest.

Then, she’ll be by herself again.

Still, as Liezel faces the road, she reminds herself that she’s older. That she’s actually trained in magic now. That it is such a simple thing to breathe.

You’re your own best healer, she reminds herself.

It’s the most she needs right now.

When you are a young child, the world feels so very, very big to you, but contained enough for you to feel as happy as you can be.

Your mother feels so much stronger when you are nine years old and you think that she is the strongest woman in the world and that there will never be a woman who burns as fiercely as she does to you. She stands among the flowers and grass and the greens and yellows and purples around her look brighter than they do elsewhere.

Others call her name and when they say “Elanor” it is full of pleasure, of happiness and trust and there is no hint of mourning. Joy still hits you so hard and keeps you tight in its embrace and you do not ever want to leave. And it grips you even more when Zori is right beside you as well.

Your feet are weightless and your smile is light as you laugh with Zori, walking closer toward your mother. Your knees and cheeks are scraped and dirtied after a game with Tekrom Galen, and you expect a scolding for both you and Zori to ‘get along’ with Tekrom when you already do, but right now your eyes can only twinkle and your mouth can only smile.

These days, the most exciting thing that happens to you is saying kak for the first time and you and Zori hiding it as if it’s the biggest scandal in the world. And as you walk back home, you duck your head close to Zori’s as you talk about things that happened in Westwood, things that will happen, things that may or may not have happened but are fun to talk about.

And the topic right now, after Tekrom and school?

“That girl has a crush on you!” Zori points out. “I’ve seen it.”

And of course she’s talking about one of the girls in their class, but you aren’t sure if she’s making it up to mess with you or if it’s something real that she’s noticed. Still, the idea of someone having a crush on you excites you. Even as a child you fantasize about living a life with someone you love, and you want nothing more than to live out a perfect dreamlike romance.

When you start to space out, Zori waves her hand in front of your face. “Come back to me!” Zori says, and you snap your eyes back to focus on hers, dark brown meeting green. With a half-sigh, half-laugh Zori puts her arm around your shoulders. “What are you gonna do about it? Are you gonna kiss her?”

And you are determined to at least kiss her on the cheek at least once. “I will!” you say. “And you can watch!”

“Ick,” Zori says and she makes an exaggerated face of disgust as she pulls away from you. But you can see the amusement in her eyes regardless. “No thanks. But if you really want me there…”

“No.”

“–You’re gonna have to follow me around and–”

“No!”

Zori snorts. “Okay okay!” she says. “But I’ll still be your favorite, right? If you kiss her. Or that boy from–”

“Obviously!” you say. “Who would Captain Lionlove be without Commander Bubbleblib?”

“‘Commander’ is still higher than captain by the way.”

“No it’s not!”

“Can I also change my name? Bubbleblib doesn’t sound cool anymore.”

Usually, you are more soft-spoken than Zori is. But when it comes to your imaginary adventures and letting your own imagination go wild, you are determined to play the adventure the way you see it. Besides, this week, it’s your turn to make up the adventure. And you have already gotten attached to Bubbleblib. “It’s cute, though!” you insist.

The two of you bicker until you make it back home and the both of you have already switched topics from your imaginary adventures to your mother. It’s during days like these where you’re the happiest, because you get to spend time with your best friend in the whole world and you know that your parents are ready to feed and take care of you when you get back home.

Soon you see your father and he smiles when he sees Zori and it feels like nothing can go wrong. You see your father and he looks just as strong as your mother and you are lucky to have a father like him. You see your father with your mother and the only thing right now you need to understand is that today was a good day and you’re excited for tomorrow.

You say goodbye to Zori and she leaves after you make plans for tomorrow and you hug your mother and she is still here within your arms, within your reach, and her skin on yours feels familiar and full of promises and regrets.

You clean the dirt off of your skin and meet your parents at the table. You eat dinner and smile with your parents as you tell them everything that happened today. Other things, you keep closer to yourself, like your fantasies of being loved and cared for by someone else, your fantasies of your ideal romance.

You don’t notice when your mother sits up to take her medicine.

VI.

Blade Bronwyn is a strong man, and that much should be obvious to anyone on the first meeting with him.

He has a strength to him that Liezel desires to grasp herself, yet it still feels so out of reach for her. Not that Liezel particularly minds, anyway. She finds her own role within the Shepherds and she does not believe she needs to be like anyone else to be better. She does well enough where she is.

Still, she sometimes catches herself wondering what it would be like to stand as tall and proud as Blade does.

(She’s still unsure what to make of the looks he gives her sometimes, or the moments they have alone together when he suddenly looks so much softer.)

It’s on a warm summer afternoon when Liezel finds her commander standing over her as she lays on her bed. Her eyes wearily blink open and it takes a moment for her mind to pull itself together just for it to think, Fuck.

Liezel remembers what happened, and how she has ended up here. With a groan, she tries to sit up as she rubs her forehead.

She is her own best healer, and for some reason, she has decided that she’ll be everyone else’s too. Working herself to the bone, forcing herself to bear the weight of her own exhaustion as she works to make sure everyone else gets to smile at least once each day. To learn their tastes in food and cook and bake them their favorite treats as they please, dropping them off at their doors. Even going to use her healing magic to mend small cuts and bruises on them if she sees it. Wanting so desperately to make sure that they were all happy.

Wanting to make sure that she could distract herself enough so that she wouldn’t end up slipping into guilt and self-loathing again.

“Hey, Commander,” Liezel rasps. “I didn’t wake up too late, right?” Her fingers reach up toward her hair, fiddling with a few blonde strands out of nervous instinct.

Blade’s lips twitch, but otherwise his face remains stern. “Don’t push yourself so hard, Captain Carmel,” he chides, though there’s a tenderness in his voice that Liezel doesn’t miss. It’s somewhat hidden between exasperation and firmness, but it’s there. “You know your responsibilities.”

And of course, Liezel couldn’t fulfill her duties if she passes out. So she smiles hesitantly, but genuinely at him. “I do,” she says. “I’m sorry for making you worry.”

Blade dips his chin, and it’s only then that Liezel notices how heavy her eyes feel. Her hands move from her hair down to beneath her eyes, and she can already imagine the bags that must have formed beneath them. She realizes that her eyes burn with dried tears and her fingers curl in upon her palms.

It only takes a second more until Blade says, “…Do you want to talk about it?”

Liezel’s smile wavers. “I’ll be fine,” she promises. Then she tries to smile as brightly as she can. “What about you? Is there anything you need right now? How have you been sleeping? Would you like something to eat? I could–I could make something fast, just for you.” She knows that Blade has his own responsibilities as well, and she doesn’t want to keep him from them.

But he still looks reluctant. Does Liezel really look that awful? Or does he really care for her that much?

Her, of all people?

Blade sighs. “No,” he says. “Just get some rest.”

“And are you saying that as my commander or as my friend?” Liezel’s voice is lighthearted despite her current state, but it’s also because of it that heavy contemplation drapes over her. And him, too, apparently.

An awkward silence falls between them. Liezel herself isn’t sure what she wants him to answer, if she thinks it is easier to keep things professional for the both of them, or if she wants something more to bring her more joy. Blade is right next to her, and yet yearning starts to creep upon her and starts to make him feel more distant than he really is.

But there is something familiar on his face that she recognizes in herself.

Liezel is afraid to name it precisely, because she thought that she had left that behind a long time ago.

It’s something she thinks about later, when he’s not beside her anymore. When she is sharing treats with Shery and speaking lightly with Tallys, Blade is still on her mind.

For all the love Liezel has to give, she is not sure how to accept any from anyone else.

VII.

Your dreams with Belnus are different from your dreams with your parents or Zori. For one, the world here feels far more abstract, undefined by edges or sharp colors. It’s like looking through a foggy window the morning after heavy rain, different from the pained attachment you have to your own home. As if even when he’s dead, even when he’s a conjured image from your mind, he still refuses to let you immerse yourself into a place of misery. With uncertain success or failure, anyway.

He is there on a blurry red blob you guess is a chair and he has his nose in a book. But when you approach him, he turns them up toward you and they almost look the way you remember them many years before. Though, you wonder if you’re remembering his eyes as lighter than they really were.

“You’re still taking it hard,” he remarks.

“Of course I am,” you say. You close your eyes and open them again. “I don’t think it gets any easier.” It’s something that you think you’ve made peace with, or are at least trying to accept. You’ll always come back around to joy, and that also means you’ll come back around to your wounds, both fresh and long-festering.

Still Belnus snorts at you, just as you’ve expected from him. He mutters something to himself then at you, “You already know what I’m going to say.”

“I’ll be sure to take a bath, then,” you sigh. “Later, though. But I’ll just…stay here now. Just in case you need me.”

Because right now, you want to be here with him. He’s been dead for years and there are some things about him that are smudged in your brain, the same way things are smudged for your parents and for Zori, and it scares you. The idea that you will forget his face or his voice scares you, and you do not want to wake up one day with him completely gone the way he was in your memories.

“You know that I don’t.”

It’s a straightforward statement, one that is true, but it makes your ribs splinter anyway. Oh, you’re still so prone to sorrow at the smallest of things, so prone to being a crybaby. Still, you are old enough now to know how to keep it inside of yourself. You close your eyes again and will yourself not to cry.

“I could still stay,” you say. Slowly, weakly, you open your eyes again. “That’s what I should’ve done, right?”

Sometimes you still think about everything you could or should have done. Maybe if you were there before Belnus passed away in his sleep, he would have lived longer. Maybe if you had found another way to get rid of the Endarkened on your Flower Day, Zori, your father, and the rest of your village would still be around.

Sometimes you even indulge yourself into fantasies where all of them are still around, and you can do better this time. You let yourself believe that they’re all still here and you can take care of them now and not mess up again. And it just makes it hurt even more when you realize that they’re not and everyone you’ve ever loved is still gone.

“Why do you still insist on blaming yourself?” Belnus asks, his brows furrowing.

“Who’s saying I’m blaming myself?” you ask, but you already know the answer. You have blamed yourself for years now, even if some part of you tries to convince yourself that the circumstances were out of your control. At the look on Belnus’ face, you snap your mouth shut, think, then speak again. “Does it matter if I do?”

Belnus exhales through his nose. “So what are you here for then, girl?” he asks you. “Why did you learn magic? Why did you choose to join the Shepherds?”

Two questions that you’ve been asking yourself recently. You guess it only makes sense that the dream version of your old mentor would ask you that.

Belnus pins you with his gaze and continues, “Are you seeking redemption or forgiveness?”

And even if it’s a dream, the question still strikes you enough that the roiling in your stomach feels real. You want to make things right, you want to let go, you want their forgiveness even if you know that they’re not around to give it to you. You do not know whether it would be their forgiveness or the feeling that you have made up for your failings that will free you.

But regardless, you know that you blame yourself and you seek release either by doing the most good you can or by knowing that they do not hate you.

“Does it matter?” you say again, but it still hurts. Grief still gouges itself deep inside of you, burying itself where you cannot pull it out. No matter how many times you think you’ve moved on, it still hurts so much. Too much. “Does it matter if I just want everyone to be back here again?”

You raise your voice at him, the first time you’ve ever done so. Not that you raise your voice at anyone else much at all. Still, even when he was alive, even when you were at your most frustrated with him when he was, you have never raised your voice at him. “What if I just want everything to be alright? What if I just want to feel like I’ve just wanted to do something right for once?”

“They died because of me! You’re gone, too, and you can’t ask me whether or not I–!” You stammer over your words. As your thoughts fracture apart to the point where you cannot put them together, you say instead, “When do I get to move on?”

Still, you don’t cry. Your breathing becomes ragged and you feel something on your face, but it’s not tears. It feels like someone else holding your face, gently, between his own rough hands. And it cannot be Belnus, you know it can’t be.

Belnus is still in front of you, neither of his hands on your face, and he grunts. You swallow thickly and once more you close your eyes, tighter this time. “I’m sorry,” you say breathlessly. “I’m sorry.”

You are your own best healer, you remind yourself. But this time, it’s not enough for you. This time, you need someone else.

“Seek out one of your companions, then,” Belnus advises you tersely.

It’s all he needs to say.

VIII.

“Liezel.”

Blade finds her in the courtyard as the sun begins to rise, the start of a slow, but hopefully peaceful day. The air is cold but light as it wraps itself around her, twisting her hair slightly in its hold. Liezel is sitting down beneath a tree and when she notices him approaching, she gets onto her feet.

“You’re up early,” Blade observes. Earlier than Liezel usually wakes up on a day off anyway. “Did you have something planned?”

Flowers smell better in the morning, Liezel wants to say. Then that sounds stupid.

You smell better in the morning. Even more stupid, and kind of weird.

No, no, she’ll just be honest here.

“I just wanted to see you,” Liezel says. “I don’t…really have anything planned for today. I figured I could just see where my urges take me. What about you?”

The look on his face softens and Liezel thinks she could see the slightest hint of a blush on his face. For the briefest of moments, heat washes over Liezel’s chest and face, and she hopes that her commander doesn’t notice as well. Or that he wouldn’t bring it up with her, at least.

“…Thank you,” Blade says. He inclines his head toward her slightly and Liezel can already feel some kind of tension falling around them. He clears his throat and he adds, “I was actually going to practice here.”

Ah, of course. Liezel remembers one of the earliest times she’s hung out with Blade, and she found him in the courtyard doing just that. Maybe that should have been clearer to her that that’s what he was intending to do, though more importantly…

It feels like there’s an unspoken invitation there, or maybe Liezel’s nerves around him are starting to get the best of her. Still, it’s an opportunity that she hesitantly takes. It’s not as if she can run from these feelings forever. “I can join you,” she offers. “But only if you’d like me there.”

Liezel would like the chance anyway to prove to him and herself how far she’s come with her own physical combat skills. She was fine before. She always needed to be, even if Liezel wasn’t fond of fighting. But there was never any harm in better preparing herself, in some way or another.

Something flashes in Blade’s eyes that Liezel can’t quite discern, but it seems promising. It seems hopeful. “I would,” he admits, and Liezel can see a smile on his face. Of course, she has seen Blade smile before, even if it’s not a common occurrence. But this smile somehow feels made just for her.

Of course, without her magic, Blade still proves to outmatch her. And Liezel guesses that even with her magic, he could still probably beat her. He lends a hand to her as she lies on the ground and Liezel takes his hand, helping herself up. “You’ve…gotten better,” Blade remarks.

“I better hope I have,” Liezel says. It certainly would be embarrassing for her if she’s been with the Shepherds for this long and didn’t learn a thing. “But I’ll have you to thank for it too, right?” She smiles sheepishly but sincerely at him. “There’s probably a lot of things I have to thank you for.”

She doesn’t miss the affection his gaze has for her. Joy heats inside of her while something else freezes it in place. Hesitation, fear, wondering. She knows that her younger self would have been thrilled, but she has been worn down. Liezel would gladly give all the love she has for him to him, and yet she still takes pause when she thinks about him doing the same for her.

And why is she so afraid, anyway?

“That won’t be necessary,” Blade says. There’s an unusual hastiness to his voice, but Liezel decides not to point it out.

It’s then that she realizes that she’s still holding hands with him and she stares at it for a moment, then back up at Blade. Liezel wonders who has to pull away first, if she’ll have to be the one to break contact. Fortunately it’s Blade who does so, though a new sort of stiffness enters his body.

“How come?” Liezel asks quickly. “I mean…you’re brave, you’re strong, you’re a good leader…” And that’s barely all the reasons why Liezel likes him so much. And she is almost frustrated with herself, for not being able to put it all into words. “At least let me bake you something nice tonight.”

“You did that yesterday.”

“And I’m willing to do that again today. I’ll even let you help me, if you have the time for that.”

Blade sighs, but there is still warmth between the both of them. Liezel’s mind starts to wander and it begins to wonder if her parents would have liked him, if Zori would have liked him. He’s everything Liezel had said he is, and so, so much more. She thinks about the dream she had with Belnus, a few nights ago, and she wonders if her mentor would have approved which companion she chose to seek out.

But really, how could they, if they were here?

She does not know how much larger her life and love could grow beyond her grief.

Maybe finally, she’s willing to see it for herself.

IX.

Here’s a memory of people you have loved in the past, people who are gone and far beyond your reach. You view the memory through a sepia-toned lens and you see them the way they were, the way you remember them as they were in life. Strong, kind, colorful, wonderful, frustrating, sorrowful, strained, and yet you love them all the same.

You think that maybe there’s always going to be hurt. You are always going to carry pain with you when you think of them, especially when you cannot hold them or let them hold you the way they used to. Most of them have vanished, lost to this world even, and the others have long been buried in the ground.

But they do not need to be here now to still be people you love. And you can only hope that if they’re all truly gone, that they’ll have their peace. And you can only hope that you can finally earn the peace you’ve sought for so long, whether through redemption or forgiveness or love regardless.

Your grief is an ugly thing, not an evil one. And even when it breaks you down and drives you to the darker corners of your mind, you’ll know that other times it will remind you of how much you have loved. How much love you are still capable of and still desire to receive now.

The one who rises in the sun and speaks softly yet kindly and smiles because she’s fought for her right to smile in a world like this, and the one who hides beneath her blankets and cries and breaks her own heart over and over again, are the same person.

Both are deserving of love regardless.

You are deserving of love regardless.

Now, here’s a dream of someone you love now.

You imagine yourself in a quaint cottage as the birds sing outside of your window and the sun and moon spin around the sky in their eternal lover’s dance. Flowers bloom and show themselves to the world and the world loves them all so so deeply, and there is leftover breakfast on the table as you and your lover hold hands and cuddle with no shame.

He is gentle with you as he tucks the blanket over you when you sleep, and he shows you how grateful he is when you take care of him after he’s sick. He loves you fully, wholly, truly, and you cannot ask for anything more. And you love him too, and you can only hope to understand how it looks through his eyes, if this is enough.

You are your own best healer, you had been told once. And it’s still true now. You will always have to be your own best healer, but you realize now that it doesn’t mean turning down care or compassion from anyone else. And you know him, you know that he’ll always come for you no matter how difficult everything gets. You will not turn him down, you will not send him away.

Because you realize now that you want to be loved this way, and you always had ever since you were a child. You realize now that this is something that heals you, something that gives you peace.

Does he dream of you the same way you dream of him too? Does he wonder what a life with you must be like, if it’s a life he desires at all?

Still, you think of him as he reaches your hand out to yours and the world stops for just a moment as he looks into your eyes. His fingers weave themselves between yours, gripping your hand firmly, intimately, and he says–

I love you.

That’s the look Liezel is getting from Blade, and now she can’t doubt anymore how he feels about her. There is no longer any doubt about his feelings for her, and her own feelings for him, and now there’s only the future to decide where they go.

But in that moment, for the first time in years, Liezel thinks that everything will be truly fine.

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