#tyril x mal | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

saibug1022 · 5 months

Text

My Heart Won't Start Anymore

Word Count: 3.3k

Tyril Starfury x Asterin Nightbloom (M!Elf!MC) x Mal Volari

A/N: For a lil bit of context, in Asterin's canon all three of them are dating, Tyril having kissed Mal right before they went to the Shadow Realm in Book 1. But when Asterin disappeared their relationship grew but under the stress and pressure of everything going on it also began to fracture. But it's not just about Mal and Tyril dw, that's not relevant till the end except for some references sprinkled throughout. Chapter title from You're Losing Me by Taylor Swift.

They were out of the Shadow Realm. They were all alive. They’d found allies in Flotilla and were on a ship on the way to Whitetower, getting closer and closer to being able to stop the Ash Empress and Valax once and for all.

Valax, who went out of her way to teach Asterin the shatter spell when she didn’t have to. Valax, who cared about her people and wanted to help them in any way she could. Valax, who got angry when anyone mistreated her people. Valax, who saved Asterin from the river. Valax, who shivered in Asterin’s arms. Valax, who smiled when he kissed her.

Valax who betrayed them.

For the second time in as many years, Asterin opened up to someone, trying to help them, only to be betrayed for approval and power from some powerful Shadow user. You’d think he’d learn his lesson. Even after Aerin had been redeemed he’d disappeared. And Valax nearly got them killed. But no.

How foolish he was.

He should be happy they were alive and had a plan to stop the Ash Empire. But instead, the others gathered on the deck and Asterin hid himself away somewhere in the ship’s hold. Even he wasn’t sure where he’d ended up. All he knew was that he’d ended up sitting against the hull with his arms holding his legs to his chest and his forehead on his knees. He didn’t remember when he started crying but it must have been awhile as his sobs faded with exhaustion but the tears never seemed to stop.

It was almost over. He just had to keep going a little longer.

But could he keep going? Could he hold so much for even one more moment? He didn’t have anything left. He would give away every piece of him: his love, his kindness, his forgiveness, his strength, his health, his patience, his energy, everything. He didn’t regret it. But no one seemed to give anything back. Now he had nothing left.

There never seemed to be a moment to rest or even take a breath. They were always running or fighting. When they weren’t there was always something else to deal with. Mal’s self-destruction, Tyril’s crisis of faith, Nia’s war with herself, Imtura’s insecurities, Aerin’s atonement and disappearance, Valax’s redemption and betrayal, Cherta’s grandmother, the destruction of the Whimsywood, their fracturing group, Nia’s shadow secret, Tyril and Mal’s strained relationship. It seemed Asterin had spent more time comforting his friends after his disappearance than being comforted about his abduction.

Every time he had those thoughts he’d shut them down. Guilt always followed them. He was helping people. How could he wish he wasn’t? Especially when those people were his friends? He’d put them first, of course he did. Then came the realm, and that involved always pushing forward. He himself was last. He didn’t have time for his feelings.

But he still couldn’t stop crying.

A door opened and Asterin froze, still crouched in the shadows.

“Asterin? Are you in here?” Tyril called.

“If he snuck away and hid from everyone do you really think he’s just gonna answer?” Mal replied and Asterin winced. Of course, they were bickering again.

“I’m perfectly capable of finding him myself.”

“I care about him too, darling.”

“Please do not start with this again-”

“I’m in here, just please stop fighting,” Asterin finally spoke but he didn’t look up. His voice sounded awful, so small and tearful and rough. It made him regret having spoken at all. Mal muttered a curse and footsteps approached, followed by shuffling and the clanking of armor as they sat on either side of him, Mal on his right and Tyril on his left. Asterin quickly wiped the tears off his face before he sat up and offered them each a smile.

“Why were you looking for me?” Asterin asked. He thought he did a pretty good job of hiding his situation until Mal and Tyril exchanged a look and Tyril cast an orb of light. As soon as they could see their faces dropped.

“Asterin, what is it?” Tyril asked with a sense of urgency in his voice.

“Don’t worry about it,” Asterin waved him off and forced a chuckle.

“Were you crying the whole time you were gone?” Mal asked instead of not worrying about it.

“Maybe?” Asterin tried. The guilt was starting to creep back in again. He couldn’t burden them with his own feelings, they were dealing with other things. Besides, would they even care? No, his feelings weren’t important. “But I’ll be fine. We should get some rest.”

“We’re not stupid, kit,” Mal rolled his eyes. He scooted closer so his shoulder was pressed against Asterin’s. “What’s wrong?”

“We have other things to worry about,” Asterin protested weakly but the tears were already starting to clog his throat again. How many times had he wished to hear those exact words? For just one person to check on him, just like how he was always checking on everybody else. Tyril offered his hand and Asterin took it without hesitation, clinging to it gratefully.

“At the moment, our only worries are for you,” Tyril replied gently. “Talk to us, Dinvalir.”

It only took that one word before the tears came once more, unbidden. He’d thought he didn’t have the energy to break any more than he already had but now it was as if his sobs were chasing the unfamiliar lure of being cared for. His head fell onto Mal’s shoulder as his sobs racked his body one after the other. His lungs ached with the force of them but the feeling of finally being able to cry with Mal’s arms around his back and cradling his head, Tyril holding his hand and running his hand through Asterin’s hair, it just made it so he couldn’t stop no matter how much his body begged him to or his mind screamed about his selfishness.

“I, I’m sorry,” Asterin sobbed. “E-Everyone always looks to, to me to handle things. A-and I, I try. I try so hard. Everyone, everyone is hurting and I-I’m trying to help. But I can’t do it anymore. I’m so tired. I-I don’t have anything left. Nia has her, her shadow thing, and then the L-Light thing in Zaradun to, to help Tyril. And Mal, you’ve, you’ve been so upset because I was g-gone and you guys are fighting all the time a-and I don’t know what to do! And Aerin left a-and Valax betrayed us and I’m so scared a-all the time but I’m too tired to even be scared.”

Silence followed Asterin’s confession, but Mal’s grip on him tightened and Tyril hid his face in Asterin’s shoulder.

“We look to you a lot as our leader,” Mal admitted. “Because without you we’d be at each other’s throats pretty much all the time. But it’s not your job to take care of all of us all the time either. You’re the one who told me it wasn’t on me to hold the entire group together. It’s the same for you.”

“You may be the strongest person I’ve ever met, but even you can’t hold this all on your own,” Tyril agreed. “If you take on everyone else’s burdens in addition to your own, you’re only going to crumple under the weight.”

Asterin just nodded against Mal’s shoulder as his sobs finally faded. He was so tired, in his bones and in his soul. He couldn’t find the strength to move or speak. It may not be enough in the long run but in the moment just being reassured and held like this by the men he loved so much was all he needed.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Mal wondered. He seemed hesitant, like he was afraid of the answer. Asterin was ready with a reply of ‘you all were busy’ or ‘it wasn’t important’, but something stopped them. Maybe it was how Tyril sat up and pleaded with his eyes for the truth, maybe it was how Mal was holding them like they’d disappear any moment. Either way, Asterin sighed.

“Because you never asked,” Asterin admitted. Mal’s head dropped as he tensed up beneath Asterin and Tyril flinched back as if struck.

“I never realized…” Tyril muttered. He squeezed Asterin’s hand. “I’m so sorry, Asterin. You’ve been through so much and we’ve been taking you for granted. You deserve far better.”

“It’s okay, you guys were busy with your own things,” Asterin assured him but Tyril shook his head.

“That is no excuse,” Tyril insisted. “After all, were you not doing exactly that for us and putting your problems aside to help us with ours? You deserved the same in return. No, you deserved better.”

“Elf boy’s right,” Mal sighed. “Gods, I feel like even more of an ass for that stupid comment about you sleeping through the year than I already did. And that’s saying something. I’m sorry, Asterin.”

“But-” Asterin tried to protest again but Tyril cut him off.

“If you wish to not accept our apologies then that is your right,” Tyril said. “But do not argue that you don’t deserve them because you do.”

“...okay,” Asterin gave him a shaky smile. “Then I do accept them. Because I love you both, even when you’re being dumb.”

“We deserved that,” Mal chuckled. “And we love you too.”

“With everything we have,” Tyril added.

“Are you feeling any better?” Mal wondered and Asterin actually paused to think about it.

“A little,” Asterin answered. “Tired though.”

“You need rest,” Tyril decided. Without warning he pulled Asterin from Mal’s embrace and scooped him up.

“You have to start warning me before you do that,” Asterin laughed.

“As you two would say, where’s the fun in that?” Tyril smiled.

“Great, look what we did Mal,” Asterin sighed, even as he wrapped his arms around Tyril’s neck.

“Hey if it gets you into bed to get a proper night’s sleep for once I’m not apologizing,” Mal snickered.

Tyril carried him down to the berth with Mal hurrying along behind them. It was empty for the moment, though Asterin swore he saw Nia peek her head in for a moment so he wasn’t sure if the desertion was due to celebrations or the others trying to give the three of them space but either way, Asterin appreciated the privacy. Tyril sat him on one of the beds and Asterin barely got to open his mouth before Tyril started methodically unbuckling and removing every piece of Asterin’s armor and each of his weapons while Mal undid his own and crawled into the bed. As soon as Asterin was just in his clothes Mal pulled him backward to hold him, with his head on Mal’s chest.

After weeks of Mal and Tyril sleeping near each other but still not together, Asterin expected Tyril to take the bed above them or one of the adjacent ones, but once he’d dressed down Tyril actually crawled in behind them, spooning him from behind and wrapping his arm around Asterin’s waist.

“Is this alright?” Tyril muttered into Asterin’s neck but Asterin didn’t answer, sensing the question wasn’t for him. He watched as Mal reached over and took the hand of the arm around Asterin’s waist. Asterin could feel Tyril smile and it made him smile too as he drifted off to sleep.

When he awoke the bed was empty, and for a moment all he could think about was when he woke up to find Aerin gone. Some traitorous part of his heart started whispering that after admitting his weakness last night Tyril and Mal had disappeared with the rest of the party and left him behind. But then he heard low voices and paused, only opening his eyes.

Daylight was coming from under the door yet still the berth was empty but for the three of them. Mal and Tyril were sitting next to each other on the bed across the walkway, too focused on each other to notice Asterin awake yet. They weren’t sitting pressed together but it was still much closer than they had since Asterin came back.

“We really fucked up, Tyril,” Mal sighed and ran his hands through his hair. Asterin noticed how his hands nearly kept going only to stop mid-air. “We got so roped up in our own bull that we completely missed how much pain Asterin was in.”

“I know,” Tyril muttered. His hands were folded in front of him and his elbows propped on his knees. “I’ve been consumed by my emotions before but to not notice how deeply affected by everything he was…I’m ashamed of myself. How could we let this happen?”

“We did exactly what he’s been getting on us for since he got back,” Mal chuckled. “When was the last time we actually talked without being at each other’s throats?”

“Just today we were-”

“No, not with the rest of the party or anything,” Mal shook his head. “Actually talked.”

“It has been quite a while,” Tyril admitted. “At least not since our fight in Port Parnassus.”

Asterin wasn’t sure what happened in that fight or what it was about but whatever it was it was bad enough to make Mal wince at the memory.

“I don’t blame him either,” Mal said. “We both love him, and he loves us both. But every time the three of us try to spend time together it ends in a fight.”

“What do we do?” Tyril wondered.

His voice was almost pleading, as if he’d give anything to make things right. Asterin doubted Tyril just wanted to make things right with him. Despite the fights and jabs and the obvious distance between them, it was painfully obvious how much Tyril and Mal still loved each other. Tyril’s panic being barely concealed by his anger and the way he’d grabbed Mal by his shoulders when the rogue nearly brought the cavern ceiling down on them. Mal’s eyes lingering on Tyril when he and Asterin found Mal at that manor in Whitetower. They always seemed to be near each other without quite touching and they always looked each other over after a fight when the other wasn’t looking.

“We talk,” Mal shrugged. “About the things we normally yell at each other about.”

“We can start with what you told Asterin last night,” Tyril suggested. “When did he tell you you don’t need to hold our party together on your own?”

“Ironwatch,” Mal answered. “He confronted me about the thing in the caverns-”

“Which we will also be discussing, to be completely clear.”

“I figured,” Mal sighed. “Half of what you kept yelling at me for was being reckless. I told him the reason.”

“You did?” Tyril whispered. “Why not tell me?”

“Because you were yelling at me for being reckless before I ever got the chance,” Mal confessed. “And then I was just pissed at you and didn’t want to tell you.”

“I see,” Tyril sighed. “I understand. Will you tell me now?”

“What do you think I’m trying to do?” Mal snickered and Tyril chuckled a little. Mal took a deep breath before continuing. “The whole group was falling apart, someone had to keep it together in case Rin came back. So, I did, even as everyone seemed to be pulling away from it. Then there was building the orphanage. Then Asterin was back and we were all in danger again from an entire empire…I figured that when it came to who to put our hopes in to save the day I was last on the list. So I’d do whatever it took to keep you all safe. Especially you. If Asterin came back he would need you and no matter what’s happened with you and me I’d never be able to live with myself if I couldn’t protect you. I love you too damn much.”

“Mal,” Tyril breathed. He went to take Mal’s hand but paused, glancing at Mal in a silent ask for permission. Mal hesitated but nodded and when Tyril took his hand he visibly relaxed. “I have said many things to you I regret, and even more that I did not mean. But there will never be a place or time where I see you as weak, or see your skills as not valuable. Regardless, your skills do not matter to me. I love you because of who you are, not how powerful you are or how well you can fight. Why do you think I was so frustrated every time you risked your life carelessly as if it didn’t matter?”

“I thought you thought I couldn’t handle it and would get everyone killed,” Mal admitted.

“You beautiful fool,” Tyril sighed and he reached up to cup the side of Mal’s face, staring at him with so much adoration that Asterin couldn’t believe they'd ever fought. “I know you can handle anything that happens to us. I never doubted that. But watching you come so close to death and brush me off whenever I’d show concern wounded me. It was as if you didn’t care for my fears at all.”

“Asterin is definitely gonna say ‘I told you so’ when he wakes up,” Mal laughed as he leaned into Tyril’s hand. He was right about that. “Imagine how many screaming matches we could’ve avoided if we’d just said that?”

“We were both worried for our Asterin,” Tyril said. “As well as incredibly frustrated we couldn’t find him no matter where and how we searched. It does make sense those emotions would come to the surface at the slightest push. Though perhaps in the future we should avoid the insults?”

“For once I agree with you elf boy,” Mal snickered and Tyril rolled his eyes fondly. It was the lightest Asterin had seen them since his abduction. “So are you gonna just sit there or are you gonna kiss me?”

“Can I?” Tyril’s eyes widened in both hope and surprise.

“I just told you to, didn’t I?”

Tyril didn’t wait another second, surging forward to kiss Mal so hard the rogue’s back hit the bedpost, making him groan. Mal wrapped his arms around Tyril’s shoulders and arched up into him, meeting the kiss with every part of him, body and soul. And Asterin had given up on pretending to be asleep, simply laying on the bed grinning.

“Mal was right,” Asterin chirped. “I told you so.”

The two sprang apart so fast that Tyril banged his head on the bed frame above him and Mal fell off the bed entirely. Asterin fell into a fit of laughter that burst from his chest like the sobs from the night before but instead of hurting they just filled him with warmth and something Asterin didn’t dare to call hope. His thoughts strayed from the spiral they so frequently found themselves in, instead wondering if maybe they really would all be okay. That even with everything going on they would soon be able to rest.

“That was cruel,” Mal pouted, which just renewed Asterin’s laughter.

“I love you both so much,” Asterin cackled.

Mal grinned and tackled Asterin onto the bed and Asterin shrieked, their laughter turning to giggles as Mal pressed kisses to every inch of Asterin’s face he could reach, not stopping until Tyril sat next to them and cupped their faces long enough to stop them so he could lean down to kiss them both.

“I love you both as well,” Tyril told them and they both looked at Mal expectantly. He rolled his eyes and Asterin smacked his shoulder, making him laugh once more.

“Yeah yeah, I love you both too,” Mal promised. “We still have a few hours till we reach Whitetower. I say we stay here until Gerhard starts threatening to break down the door.”

“I think we could all use time together,” Tyril agreed.

“Definitely. Get over here you two,” Asterin grinned.

Asterin opened his arms and both of the men he loved crawled into them. They talked and laughed and wrestled around and for once the world was not ending. For once they weren’t heroes or doomed adventurers or tragic loners, they were just three people who loved each other with everything they had.

For once, they were free.

#playchoices #choices #bolas #blades of light and shadow #bolas 2 #pixelberry #bolas mc #tyril starfury #mal volari #tyril x mc #mal x mc #tyril x mal #mal x tyril #tyril x mc x mal #mal x mc x tyril

21 notes · View notes

liviusofpella · 8 months

Text

Starry Night

Pairing: Tyril x f!human!MC (Reyna) Book: Blades of Light and Shadow 2, chapter 3 Word count: 4000 Rating: T Warnings: emotional hurt Category: hurt/comfort Synopsis: Having reunited with most of her party, Reyna discovers the true extent of the traumatic events of the previous months. A/n: special thanks to @starlight-starfury for encouraging me to include Tyril speaking elven 🫰🏻 × Calanín - my light: elven word of affection, the elven equivalent of the Common language's "my love;" the elves believe that love is often fleeting, but the Light is constant, and the most precious resource they possess. Tag list: @starlight-starfury @cashweasel @watatsumi-island @lilyoffandoms @sophie-summer @lazypartridge @brycesgirl @agattthaa @secret-fungi @megas-choices (if anyone wishes to be added/removed pls let me know!) @choicesficwriterscreations @choicesbookclub

Nia, Mal, and the children had developed a routine, thanks to which the kids changed into their pyjamas, brushed their teeth, and were tucked in under thirty minutes. If one would take Nia at her word, developing the schedule took weeks, but due to eager cooperation the group managed to reduce the time from two hours to just thirty minutes, saving the guardians a considerable amount of time—time that they would spend reading, searching, and discussing the possible methods of rescuing Reyna. After ten minutes, Nia and Mal returned downstairs, having wished the kids a good night and slumped in the chairs, exhausted. Soon, the giggles and banter upstairs quietened down, and Mal breathed out a sigh of relief while Nia smiled at her friends, her features softened by the warm candlelight.

“Can I offer you anything? Water, tea? We don’t have much, but I’d love to host you properly,” the Priestess chirped, already rising from her seat, but Tyril held out his hand to stop her.

“It’s alright, thank you, Nia. Save what you have for the children.”

Nia nodded, while the elf rested his left hand on Reyna’s thigh, gently squeezing it in a poorly disguised display of affection. Her lips curved in a soft smile, and she vaguely covered his hand with her own before addressing the rogue before her.

“Lord Weasley of Riverbend, huh?”

Mal smiled sheepishly and scratched his neck, blushing faintly as if he had been caught in a lie. “I had to improvise, and Riverbend just happened to occupy my mind an awful lot lately.”

“Gotta admit, you really nailed the accent. If I hadn’t known better, I’d think you were a native,” she winked, drawing a laugh from Mal.

“What can I say? I had spent an awful lot of time with you, kit.”

Nia joined the conversation. “How is Kade? I’ve been meaning to visit him, but there was always something urgent to attend to, and…”

“He’s doing just fine, cooped up in the library or in the royal gardens with Loola and Threep. He’s made the Master Librarian his archenemy, though.”

The Priestess chuckled. As Mal rested his arm on the back of her seat, a quiet yawn escaped Reyna’s lips and her eyes watered uncontrollably. She rested her head against Tyril’s shoulder, continuing to smile at her friends. Although she did not feel the true length of her absence, she had missed them, and at that moment she felt at peace.

The idyllic atmosphere was disrupted by a quiet childish giggle coming from the top of the stairs, and the group's heads turned simultaneously in that direction. Mal sighed exhaustedly and rubbed his tired eyes before addressing the children.

“Guys, we talked about staying up past bedtime!”

The grave silence that followed his remark was soon interrupted by barefoot steps and the creaking of the old wooden floor. A frail, pale blonde girl stood next to Mal and whispered in his ear, her big eyes glued to Reyna. In response, Mal smiled at the child and nodded. “Do you want me to introduce you?”

The girl nodded her head excitedly, and he addressed his friend.

“Kit, this is Nyra, she's a big fan of yours.”

Reyna's brows furrowed. "Fan?"

“Mal and Nia often told us stories of your adventures! My favourite is the one when you ran after Duchess Xenia and fought her! I want to be as brave as you when I grow up!” the girl chattered reedily. “Can I ask you a question?”

"Ask away, Nyra," she sent the girl an encouraging smile, squeezing Tyril's hand under the table.

"Weren't you afraid?"

"I'd be crazy not to be afraid,” she smiled. “Bravery isn't about not being afraid, it's about doing the right thing despite fear."

The girl nodded, drinking the words off Reyna’s lips, staring at her heroine in awe.

“Now go to sleep, Nyra,” Mal rubbed the girl’s arm, softly pushing her towards the stairs. Before disappearing in the darkness, Nyra waved at the couple, and Reyna sighed.

“Said like a true hero,” Nia concluded while the men agreed silently.

“It’s good to see you, guys. I just wish Imtura was with us.”

“We’ll find her, don’t fret, Rey-Rey,” Mal assured. The nickname made Reyna groan.

“Please don’t call me that.”

“How about Rey of Sunshine?”

Reyna glowered at him. “Mal, I’m warning you.”

“Reiny?”

“Oh, I like Rey!” Nia joined in the conversation, grinning.

“What do you think of “Reine”? I think it suits your personality,” the thief continued. “What do you think, elf boy?”

Tyril, smiling softly at the course the conversation took, looked to his left at his partner, his eyes glistening with the reflection of a nearby candlelight. “I believe my answer falls under a public display of affection.”

Nia brightened up. “Aw! It’s so nice seeing you two together again. Tyril had been so miserable without you, Reyna.”

“Tyril, my man, I’d like to remind you that we were direct neighbours at the Palace and their walls are surprisingly thin, so you really shouldn’t be em—”

Tyril cut in, blushing. “Stop talking.”

Grinning, the rogue continued teasing, pointing to Reyna with a nod of his head, while Nia and Tyril grew considerably more abashed. “I see you already had a chance to celebrate.”

Reyna touched her neck, remembering the necklace of red love bites that her lover bestowed upon her the previous night, and bit her lip, slightly embarrassed. She forgot to cover the bruises in the morning as she was in a hurry. The Priestess intervened.

“Stop teasing them, Mal. They’re young and in love, of course they celebrated their reunion.”

In love. The couple looked away, uncomfortable with the subject, but Nia continued, oblivious to their discomfort.

“I’ve been meaning to ask before—” she bit her tongue, cleared her throat, and continued. “Who said it first? Was it romantic? I bet it was! Tyril always had a way with words and—”

“Oh, Priestess, read the room!” Mal chuckled. The redhead’s smile faltered as she raised her eyebrows in question, tilting her head slightly. The rogue explained. “Look at them! Elf boy’s about to turn dark purple, they obviously haven’t said that yet.”

Nia’s lips shaped into the letter “o” as the realisation dawned on her, but before she had a chance to apologise, Reyna intervened. “Alright! It was great to see you, but we should go. It’s getting late, and we need to rest.”

“True,” Mal agreed. “No offence, but you look terrible, lordling.”

“It takes one to know one, thief.”

“You don’t like my haircut? You wound me,” with feigned offence, Mal placed a hand over his heart, making Tyril roll his eyes. Reyna smiled at the exchange, but agreed with Tyril. Mal looked exhausted, the dark spots under his eyes and slouched posture explicit evidence of that. “Let me walk you to the door.”

Hugging Reyna goodbye, Nia whispered, squeezing her eyelids tight. “Please, don’t disappear again.”

Reyna rubbed her friend’s back reassuringly before moving away from the warm embrace. “I’ll do my best.”

“Your disappearance wreaked havoc, kit,” Mal admitted quietly, patting her back. “I know it may look like we just moved on, but there wasn’t a day Nia didn’t stay up late sifting through the Temple’s scrolls in search of rescue. Whenever I got a promising lead, it turned out to be just an urban legend. We—” his voice broke. In no hurry, Mal took a deep breath and moved away, his hands resting on Reyna’s shoulders. “We really tried, kit. I’m sorry it wasn’t enough.”

Reyna smiled comfortingly. “Don’t beat yourself up, Mal. I’m here, in one piece, am I not?”

He smiled. “I suppose.”

“Thank you for trying.”

Unpersuaded by her assurance, Mal nodded weakly, and before the couple took their leave, he patted Tyril’s arm. “Don’t let her out of your sight. See you in the morning.”

Strolling through the streets of the capital, slowly climbing towards the Whitetower castle, Tyril and Reyna grudgingly discussed the following day’s plan, in the meantime looking around for a seamstress. Despite the late hour, one of the very last vendors was still folding clothes in the town square, and being in desperate need of a more appropriate gear, Reyna left Tyril waiting outside. Patiently pacing around the ornate fountain, the elf studied a nearby florist when his gaze stopped at a bouquet of familiar flowers in the man’s hands. It took a bit of haggling and bragging about his title for Tyril to purchase the flowers imported from his homeland—black-petaled frilly sunflowers with luminescent red stamen—but he purchased them, and he could not suppress the proud smile on his face when Reyna emerged from the building with a paper package in her hands. He handed her the gift wordlessly.

“Oh! What’s the occasion?”

“There is no occasion. These flowers are native to Undermount, we call them melissë anar’insil. They were my mother’s favourite, she grew them in our garden, and…” he bit his lip, blushing slightly. “And they remind me of you.”

“They’re beautiful,” she said quietly, awestruck. “Thank you, Tyril. But you shouldn't have, they look like they have cost a fortune."

"There's a possibility that the saviour got a discount."

A hearty laugh escaped her lips upon hearing the word saviour yet another time the same day. "Admit it, you like being the hero."

Tyril bit his lip, trying to contain his smile. "I suppose the title carries some benefits."

Chuckling, she climbed on the tip of her toes and pressed her lips to his for a short, sweet kiss. She could still faintly taste the sour lime lemonade with mint on his lips, the drink he claimed his favourite, the memory bringing a smile to her face. She thought of their first, and at the same time last, date—the day they partook in festival activities, roamed the streets of Whitetower holding hands, made love in a secluded tower, and ended up intoxicating themselves at a local tavern with Riverbendian drinks. As if reading her mind, Tyril’s lips curved in a knowing smile.

“Does the name of the flower mean anything in Common?” she asked, interlacing their fingers. Resuming their lazy stroll back to the castle, the elf nodded, yet he took his time with the answer, eventually smiling sheepishly.

“It translates to ‘the lovers’ sunflower.’ These sunflowers are considered the flower of royalty in Undermount as due to their rarity only the wealthiest can afford them, and they symbolise devotion, loyalty, and adoration.”

Nodding, Reyna brought the bouquet closer to her face and took a deep breath. The smell was sweet but not overpowering, reminding her of the first days of summer, and the exact smell of Tyril’s bedchamber in Undermount. She remembered walking out to the balcony when he fell asleep and seeing the luminescent stamen in the darkness, thinking how otherworldly they made the garden look.

“I can see why these were your mother’s favourites.”

“Their appearance is but a fraction of the reason for her admiration. Mother adored them because father asked for her hand in marriage with half a dozen bouquets of these flowers and had showered her with grandiose bouquets ever since on the most important occasions. She always said it’s a perfect addition to any confessions and talked very fondly of the day Adrina was born as father had the Manor’s ballroom filled with flowers,” Tyril reminisced, his gaze distant but a smile was playing on his lips.

“I’d love to hear more about your mom, she sounds like a very kind soul.”

Tyril nodded. “She was. However, that is a story for another day. We should hurry, it will rain soon.”

The moment Tyril locked their chamber's door, the toller announced the clock struck eleven and Reyna plopped down on the mattress exhausted.

"You don't have to buy me flowers if you want to propose, I'm a simple girl, Tyril," she teased, yawning. The elf flushed purple, realising how inauspiciously he crafted his words back in the town square, and smiled at her. "Duly noted."

"And if you want to fool around, just stay the word," she winked, unlacing the corset of her dress. "Not today, though, I'm dead on my feet."

"Ever the romantic," he smiled. As he helped her out of her clothes and into a loose nightgown, Tyril made sure she was tightly tucked in, and soon joined her, stroking her back until she fell asleep.

People have a saying, one that Tyril overheard while patrolling the streets of Port Parnassus, just minutes before he first bumped into Reyna. They say that what does not kill will make you stronger, and during the year she was gone he prayed it was true. He hoped all this suffering was not in vain.

Yet now she was here with him and he felt everything but stronger. He felt weak, broken, undeserving. He couldn't protect her. It should've happened to him.

He hadn't slept the night before—after he lulled his beloved to sleep, he stayed guard in case of the worst. It gave him plenty of time to look at her, admire the features that he had prayed to see again, to assess the damage she had suffered at the hands of… Of who exactly? She didn't want to talk about it, and he didn't push her. Overwhelming her was the very last thing he wanted to make her feel so soon after returning; alas, because of that choice, his imagination was running wild. His mind was painting the pictures of Reyna running through the obsidian desert, fighting the remaining Shadow soldiers, battered, aghast, and disappointed she had to save herself because the people closest to her had failed.

Studying the fresh horizontal scar on her inner arm, Tyril ventured into a dangerous territory of fear-fueled theories as to what lay ahead. The Shadow Realm was an unexplored area, where unlike Morella they were on a hiding to nothing. Tyril did not doubt the loyalty and capability of their group, but they managed to win the fight against the Dreadlord by a stroke of fortune—had it not been for the Priestess’ sacrifice, the party would have lost at least two members, himself included. If the new enemy was indeed a competition to the Shadow Court, they needed allies.

Tyril noticed that upon her return, Reyna not only possessed new wounds and scars, but also lacked that mesmerising glint in her eye, her movements were slower, and body weaker, not to any sudden or loud noises paralysed her with fear. Reyna came back different. Tyril would even risk saying that it was not Reyna who came back. Not the one he knew. It was someone new entirely.

The woman next to him took in a shuddering breath, her fingers gripping the duvet tightly. Restless even in her sleep, Reyna was indisputably facing the consequences of living through numerous traumatic events within a short time period without respite. Reaching forward, Tyril smoothed out the worried crease between her brows with his thumb, deluding himself that with this simple gesture he was able to transfer all her worries onto himself.

Take the utmost care of her and relay that Father and I rejoice at the news of Reyna’s return!

Against his will, Tyril’s mind replayed the moment of reading Adrina's letter. Could he truly protect Reyna? Without demur, he would give his life trying to ensure her safety, albeit such sacrifice seemed pointless from his current standpoint. If he was gone, who would protect her?

“I suppose sleep is not my ally tonight,” she sighed to herself, having woken up from a nightmare-filled sleep. Wrapped in their sheets, Reyna observed Tyril, carefully studying his back, the hair that cascaded over his muscles, the way the moonlight reflected on his skin and how utterly ethereal he looked against the starry night sky. He was sitting on his legs on the balcony, facing the city, unnaturally still. As concern gripped her heart, Reyna cautiously walked over and touched his shoulder.

"Tyril, are you alright?"

The elf looked up, snapped out of his reverie, and his hand covered hers mechanically. "I was meditating. I'm alright."

As it dawned on her, she covered her lips with a hand, doused with a wave of embarrassment. "Oh, I'm sorry, that's— that makes much more sense than what I feared," she blubbered. She did not intend to reveal the exact reason of her concern, he did not need to hear that her initial thought was that he had been petrified the same way Kaya was. "I won't bother you any longer, I'll just—"

Tyril slowly rose to his feet and rubbed her arm. "It's alright, Reyna, I was supposed to finish a long time ago anyway. Let's get you back to bed."

As his hand rested on the small of her back, he noticed the dampness of her skin.

"Do you do that often? Meditate?"

He nodded. "It's supposed to be only thirty minutes a day, but…" he sighed. "Once the feasible solutions were depleted, I started praying for a miracle. There was nothing more that I could do but pray, so I prayed for hours on end."

Reyna bit her bit as an impulsive thought emerged in her mind. "Would you pray with me?"

As the look of surprise flowered on his face, his brows furrowed, but his expression changed into a kind, encouraging smile within seconds.

"Absolutely. Is there anything in particular you'd wish to pray for?"

Her answer was affirmative. "Do you mind telling me a bit more about your prayers first? I'm not exactly religious, and I don't know much about your gods, but I feel like it's the right thing to do."

"Anyone is welcome to seek comfort and guidance from the gods, you needn't be religious for that," he reassured. "We do not have many prayers per se as we'd rather engage in a silent conversation with the gods during meditation, but should one need a prayer there is a universal formula. I can't know for certain, but I believe the gods would look kindly on prayers for blessing or good fortune," he explained, gently rubbing her back as he guided her inside. As they made themselves comfortable on the silk carpet, assuming the exact position Reyna found him in, the elf interlaced their fingers and rested their hands on his lap. "I suppose one could also pray to nature, as do orcs, although I haven't heard of my kind practising that."

"I'd like to pray for Kaya, to put in a good word for her, so she can rest easily," she breathed out quickly, almost cutting him short. When his expression fell, she rapidly added: "Unless that's not how it works, then—"

"No, it's just— it's very thoughtful of you," he smiled, and Reyna breathed a sigh of relief. "If you wish, you may repeat after me, but it’s not necessary since you may find it challenging to pronounce certain words.”

“I’ll try,” she nodded and took a deep breath. As soon as Tyril noticed her shoulders relax, he began reciting the prayer, slowly, pronouncing the words clearly, giving her time to repeat.

“Alcarvalda nostar, varyando o in nór nosyë, iqulmë lissë an vilissë o Kaya Duskraven. Cé pataro imbi eleni, nínion ‘nin gwannad lîn. Hiro hyn hîdh ab 'wanath.”

As he finished, the elf stroked her knuckles softly, observing her carefully. Reyna was on edge, that was clear, although he could not figure out the exact reason—however, as tears spilled from her tightly shut eyes, he intervened, closing her in an embrace.

"Do you think she rests in peace? That Xenia's deed hadn't influenced her eternal rest?"

"I believe our Gods are omniscient and just, and as they welcomed Kaya, they saw her for the wonderful person she was before her life was stolen from her."

She hummed in response. They stayed like this for several minutes until Reyna’s breath evened out, and a yawn slipped past her lips. Tyril helped her climb onto the mattress and lulled her to sleep, just the night before, telling her a story of Undermount society’s attempts to open the city to the world. "Thank you," she whispered. “I— The prayer did bring me some comfort.”

Two hours. It took only two hours for Reyna to wake up again. She sat up straight, her skin blanketed with sweat. Tyril stroked her back through the damp gown as she took deep breaths to compose herself.

"It's alright," he comforted repeatedly, allowing her to rest on his chest and cry out all the emotions bothering her at that moment.

But it wasn't alright. At that moment, Reyna could not remember the nightmare that caused her to wake up drenched in sweat and with a plea on her lips, but she felt utterly devastated and powerless, and no amount of consolation was able to calm her down. Her heart would not stop pounding against her ribcage as tears would not stop flowing down her cheeks, and the terror she awakened to deftly transfigured into suffocating panic that immediately alerted the elf.

Fixing their position so that they were sitting facing each other, Tyril's palms cradled her face, forcing her to look into his eyes. "Reyna, focus on me, alright? Breathe with me, take as long and deep breaths as you can, and hold it in for five seconds," he instructed, feeling his equilibrium wane as the woman before him struggled to settle her nerves. The calming spell was ready to roll from the tip of his tongue when at last Reyna took a deep, shaky breath.

He counted down the seconds out loud for her, time after time, until her muscles relaxed, and the body became heavy in his hands. The back of his hand wiped the drops of sweat off her forehead as he laid her down, back to the same position she woke up in, and kissed her cold temple, pressing his lips for several long seconds.

She hadn't slept well the night before, and that night would probably be no different. Rubbing her back up and down, he proposed to tell her another story, in a poor attempt to help her fall asleep.

"Just hold me, please,” she pleaded. And as a devout worshipper, Tyril held her, whispering sweet nothings into her ear, although his heart ached seeing his partner in pain.

"Are you asleep?"

Startled, Tyril blinked repeatedly to rid his eyes of the remainder of sleep. "No."

“I want to cut my hair.”

The elf’s brows furrowed in confusion, his gaze focusing on the pendulum clock on the far side of the room. “Now? It’s three in the morning.”

“I need a change, and my hair reminds me of what—” she held her tongue. “Will you help me or not?”

Rubbing off the blur in his eyes, Tyril rolled off the bed and approached the mirror she was sitting in front of.

"Are you certain?"

"Just do it."

Visibly unstrung and beaded with sweat, Reyna sat facing the vanity mirror, holding back tears. Unconvinced, he took his own sword from her hand and gripped the hilt tightly. Several seconds and one skilful swish of the sword later, inches of her dark locks hit the floor silently. Holding her blurry gaze in the reflection, Tyril inquired further.

“Calanín, what’s troubling you?”

Reyna dismissed his worry with a shake of her head and made her way to the en-suite bathroom. “Sorry for waking you up,” she added before disappearing into the dimly lit room. The last sound he had heard before drifting off to a turbulent sleep was that of Reyna climbing into the ornate bath.

As the full moon gave way to the sun, coolness to sparkling dew and thin fog, the couple set out to meet their friends, shyly setting out on a new adventure, leaving the turbulent night but a memory.

#tyril starfury #tyril x mc #blades of light and shadow #blades of light and shadow 2 #choices blades #choices bolas #blades 2 #playchoices #choices stories you play #choices tyril #nia ellarious #mal volari #choices nia #choices mal #cfwc #cfwc fics of the week #choices book club #choices fic writers creations

56 notes · View notes