From being an Abandoned who had rarely left the Hollowed Grounds, to embracing the call of adventure, to dying and being reborn first as an Ascended and then as an Ancient, Maea has gone through quite the amount of changes in her life. One thing remains common, though, in her attempts to find out just where she belongs; she’s always had a craving for knowledge which has brought her to so many places and to meet so many people here in Caido. We can’t wait to see what else is in store for her!
Congratulations, Maea!
Credits
Court of the Fallen was created in October of 2018 by Odd, Honey, and Crooked.
Skinning and hosting by the epically talented Kaons, and functionality fanciness by the coding magic of Neowulf. If you ever see either of them around, make sure to show them some love!
I'll keep breaking my own heart, finding ways to make it out I'm still not what I wanna be, what more do you want from me?
She finds him sitting at the table. Elbows braced on the top, one hand loosely twirling the stem of a flower and the other fisted against his mouth, hiding the drawn nature of his lips. Eyes far away and unblinking. The sky darkened into evening beyond the windowpanes, leaving the room lit by the warm glow of firelight.
Harper normally never stops moving. Sitting still had to be mercilessly trained into him - or perhaps motion had to be trained out - because it was too unfamiliar a state of being. His motionless figure, more than anything, is the signal that something is wrong.
When Maeve walks through the doorway Harper slowly unfurls, placing the flower exactly perpendicular, careful not to ruin any of the delicate petals. His hands find each other on top of the table, but his eyes remain on the gift instead of the slowly paling skin of his knuckles. “I didn’t mean to open your personal mail,” he starts. Measured, careful to the point of tonelessness. “When I saw it was from Halo’s Advisor I thought it was business.” Taking a deep breath he squeezes his own hands together, eyes dropping that last inch to stare silently at the way the multitude of scars stand out as his tan skin bleeds white. His mouth drops, a shadow passing over his eyes for a brief second before it’s gone; then his gaze flicks, just barely in the corner, to Maeve. Enough not to see her plainly. “We should talk.”
It had been a couple of days since the letter and gift from Sah arrived. Something that was far from Maeve's mind after she sent her response. The Nightshade was going to talk to him when he brought the twins to Torchline for a visit. Tell him that nothing else was going to happen between them, but she doesn't get that far because when she comes back it's to Harper at the table.
The warmth that had been living in her bones for the last season, delicately grown there from Harper's attentions, is suddenly gone in the span of a second. The serious set of his shoulders and the furrow between his brows is the first sign that something is wrong, but its's the flower in his hand that gives it away. Her smile fades and worry settles in her gut, twisting it to unmanageable knots and the Nightshade sucks in a sharp breath as Harper begins to speak.
No, of course he wouldn't have read her personal mail. He doesn't do that. He's not the untrusting type. He's loyal. Good. So fucking good. And Maeve? Maeve is undeserving of that. Of him. Of his loyalty, patience, and love. Otherwise she would have told him about Sah. About what had been happening before he came to stay with her. It had only been a kiss. A few mutual training sessions. She'd watched the twins. That was all. Yet she hadn't told him.
Maeve gives herself a moment, carefully placing the stack of papers and ship logs she brought with her to look over onto the counter, trying to push the swell of emotions down lest it overwhelm her. The blood ring she was planning to give him burns in her pocket, feeling like lead, weighing her shoulders down as she slowly approaches the table. The scrape of the chair legs are loud against the wooden floor, making her wince as she sits down in front of him, "It was before you came to stay with me." It's the first thing she manages, voice already wavering, accent thicker on her words.
"I already wrote back to him. Told him we needed to talk." Hesitantly her hand reaches across the table, needing to touch him desperately, wanting to know he's still here for her. The tips of her fingers brush over his knuckles, testing the waters, "I'm not letting things go further, Harper. I don't want to. Not- not with him."
I'll keep breaking my own heart, finding ways to make it out I'm still not what I wanna be, what more do you want from me?
He hates that he can almost feel the radiating span of her emotions, because it means he’s keenly aware of the way her mood drops. Knows that while he is not in the wrong here, he is the one causing it, and it chafes painfully in an attempt to force him to fix things. That’s what he does, he fixes things, but he can’t do that tonight. Tonight he has to draw a line in the sand and force them to sit on opposite sides to talk about this like adults, no matter how his mind tells him to bend and accommodate to whatever she desires if it means keeping her. He hasn’t lost her yet with all they’ve been through. He has to keep faith that no matter the outcome of the conversation, he won’t lose her now either.
As she sits his thumbs begin to idly trace the knuckles where they rest on the opposite hand. Finally, motion; spurred by the beginning of her words. He doesn’t react to the tentative touch of her fingertips, but he doesn’t pull away either. Mulling carefully over each word of hers, and then his own in turn before he speaks them. “I wish you’d told me,” he manages finally. Still staring at the stark differences between their skin tones, unable to look into her face while he says it, too unused to defending himself and afraid he’d lose his nerve. “Even if you’ve now decided you don’t want to be with him, the night I arrived I was under the impression we -” he cuts off, eyes closing firmly and throat clicking with the force of his silencing swallow. No, he won’t reveal the way it hurt, because they were his own stupid assumptions, and his own fear that kept him from instigating this talk sooner. Intentionally, forcefully, he spreads and flattens his hands to the table so he can’t squeeze them so tightly anymore. “Regardless of what you tell him, we need to…talk. About what we are. Or want.” His words are beginning to fail him now and the frustration of it forces one hand through his curls, gripping idly at them. “So that there’s no more…miscommunication.” Secrets. Betrayals. The things he wants to say but won’t. It was his fault for assuming, that first night, that she was entirely unattached. He knows she has been in open relationships. But she equally knew that he hadn’t. And he hadn’t questioned it in the days since as they wordlessly transitioned into something new, blindly assuming she would defer to his rules around relationships instead of her own. Selfishly. His fault, his fault, his fault. Always leading with his heart instead of his head.
I wish you told me. Gods, she wishes she had, too. She knows Harper. She knows how he is with his relationships. How utterly devoted he is to the person he's with. It wasn't a one night stand and Maeve had no intentions of it being a one night stand when she'd invited him to stay. When she asked him to. The guilt that bubbles through her veins is ice cold. Sharp and insistent. "I'm sorry... I should have." And she means it. She really should have. He deserved that, but all she had been thinking about was him.
"He and I weren't together. We didn't slept together. It was just a kiss. I'd watched his children when they came through the portal and kept them safe." She had acted as a mother for them. Surely he can understand. "We hadn't spoken for an entire season." And this was perhaps her own fault. The fact that she hadn't clarified what she was with Sah. That there was any room for misinterpretation to begin with. But that night she'd made her choice. Even if she didn't realize. "Harper, ma lumière, believe me when I say I wouldn't have done what we did if I was with him." Sah was the same as Harper in that way. Her eyes are glassy as she looks at him, a flush high on her cheeks as her pulse races, hammering against her ribs as if it's trying to escape her body.
Miscommunications. It isn't what he means. It's the kinder way of saying it. He doesn't want to hurt her more. Even now. He doesn't pull away from her, but Maeve draws her own hands back as the tears sting the corners of her eyes, finally slipping past her lashes despite her best efforts and she quickly wipes at them, throat tightening further as her breath escapes her in a shaky huff. "Right... We- We should." Her hands drop into her lap, slipping towards her coat pocket and finding the ring, unable to resist holding it in her palm and feeling the cool metal bite into her skin. "Do.. do you want this, Harper? Do you want me?" Giving him an out. Letting him back down if he wanted to do it now.
I'll keep breaking my own heart, finding ways to make it out I'm still not what I wanna be, what more do you want from me?
Her apology is acknowledged and accepted with a small bob of his head. His throat won’t allow a response. Instead he sits and listens as she stammers through her response, because there’s nothing else for him to do. It’s a selfish relief to know that, despite the inherent sweetness and familiarity of the letter, there’d been no full relationship. The taut line of Harper’s broad shoulders relaxes minutely.
“I believe you,” he assures quietly, sincere despite the soft tone. He watches her hands pull away, still unable to look any higher, but he doesn’t reach for them. Not yet. Not until they’ve talked it out. Though he waits until he hears the brush of her hands as they wipe away tears, selfishly not wanting to see it. Only then does he lift his face to finally look at her.
It’s not the worst he’s ever seen her, but the guilt intensifies knowing the red of her eyes and nose is because of him. Sighing softly, his hands find themselves again as the one in his hair drops away, restless even as the rest of his body is like stone. “It’s more than just wanting, Maeve. Of course I want you. It’s the how, and what that means for each of us, and whether what we both want is compatible.” His jaw flexes as he tries so, so hard to be as clear as possible, to maintain sincerity without being emotional. “I’m not moving on from Phoebe lightly. I know you know that. But what I want, what I need in any relationship going forward is monogamy.” Inhaling shakily Harper tries to keep eye contact even with how hard it feels, knowing he can’t present a stone face to her but simultaneously needing to keep his emotions carefully controlled to have the conversation at all.
“If we do this, there can’t be anyone else. It’s you and me and the kids - because I would want you to be a mother to Jude. To raise him knowing Phoebe was his birth mom, but that it doesn’t - wouldn’t - make you any less of one either. I know Edmund is older and might not want to see me that way, or change how he already does, but -” realizing he’s getting far too ahead of himself he cuts off abruptly and takes a breath before even considering restarting. “Labels are better for me, but they don’t have to be for you. Whatever we are, we can call it what we like. If you want me to step down as a councilman because of being Queen, we can discuss a replacement for me.” Because he’d give it up to be with her, and he’s not ashamed of that. “But I can’t sacrifice the rest, even if that means we go back to only being close friends and confidants.” Slowly unclasping his hands he reaches one across the table, palm up. “Because I always will be, no matter what you choose tonight.”
It does just enough to ease the knots in her stomach a fraction, taking her from feeling on the edge of throwing up to simply nausea as she sits across from him. Her eyes are still stinging from the tear and more fall when he looks up at her despite her best efforts to keep them at bay. Maeve wipes at her cheeks again, hating that he has to see her this way, not wanting him to feel worse than she's sure he already is. He believes her, though. It's something.
Quiet settles over them for a moment as his hands drop back to the table, fingers lacing together to keep from fidgeting, "I know that." She murmurs, aware of how hard Phoebe disappearing again was on him. Especially with Jude in the equation now. Monogamy wasn't out of the question for her. She'd done it for Locke. Even if it had gone poorly in the end. She could do it for Harper, too.
She doesn't interrupt him. It was better to let him finish and get it all out. He does eventually finish and his hand slides across the table. Maeve only takes a second before her hand slips into his, clutching onto his fingers tightly as the ring sits in her other. "There wouldn't be anyone else. It would be us. Forever. For as long as you want me. Wanted this." Their family. Their home. Maeve swallows thickly, meeting his eyes again as she releases another breath, "You don't have to step down from being on the council, either."
The Nightshade takes a moment to pause, trying to collect her thoughts and finally managing to, bringing her other hand into view. She opens it, palm up, ring nestled in the center of her palm. The silver of the metal glinting against her pale skin, the gem clear and sparkling without any blood to tint it red, made warm by the heat of her skin. "I was going to give this to you tonight... I'd had it made when Locke and I were together, but I never gave it to him." She begins, voice tentative, uncertainty still coloring her words. "It acts like a bond. Even if someone isn't Attuned."
Maeve licks her lips, placing the ring on the table, "It's yours if you want it. We can call it whatever you want. I don't care, but I can't lose you. I don't want to let you go."
I'll keep breaking my own heart, finding ways to make it out I'm still not what I wanna be, what more do you want from me?
Her grip is tight and nearly desperate as she takes his hand, and he squeezes back firmly without being too rough to assure her without words that he isn’t leaving. No matter what she chooses, when they leave this table he will still be hers. All that matters right now is figuring out in what way.
Though his heart is in his throat, in some ways he isn’t fully surprised by what she says. By the fact she wants this as much as he does. For all his self-doubt, Harper isn’t blind to the force of her returned affections, even if he sometimes convinced himself they were of a different breed than monogamous love. “For as long as we want each other,” he corrects softly. “Every day we would choose each other. And if either of us changes our minds, we have the power to end things. But I never want one of us to hold more power here than the other.” Outside of this room, where she is Queen and he her left hand? Obviously things would be different. But he can hear the old hurt and history in the words she says, in the way it has always been her being left behind, and he doesn’t want her to watch his back expecting the same whenever she sees it.
The sight of the ring makes his stomach twist, if only because of the connotation of it, but he remains quiet while she explains it. Even without their relationship in mind, there are endless advantages to her being able to feel him the way other Attuned to, like with their Stargate. But that’s not why she’s asking and he knows it. That she had it on her, had prepared for this before she saw him at the table, it helps convince him that she means every word. Harper’s other hand slowly reaches for the ring. “Will you be my partner, then?” he asks quietly, sincerely, as his eyes seek hers and he squeezes their joined hands gently. “Be mine, as I will be yours?” Perhaps not wife, because he would never rob her of a wedding by using the term too soon, but no other term fit properly.
His words are gentle, correcting her after she finishes speaking and her lips quirk up into a slight smile. Ducking her head slightly, the Nightshade finds a quiet laugh slipping past her lips despite herself as she finally meets his sea glass gaze again. "We're a team. If I don't ever give you what you need I ask that you talk to me and I'll do the same." She wasn't going to let either of them be stuck in a relationship that didn't serve them. Not when they had both gone through so much to get to this point.
His tanned fingers reach for the ring and Maeve feels her breath catch for only a moment, but the words that pass his lips cause all of the tension to melt from her body. She exhales, breath stuttering out of her, "Yes. You are mine and I am yours." Maeve murmurs, bringing his hand up to her lips, brushing a kiss across his knuckles.
"We have to infuse the gem with your blood. Then, as long as I am wearing it, we'll be connected." Her voice is quiet, accent still thick on her words as she speaks from the emotion that still lingers.
I'll keep breaking my own heart, finding ways to make it out I'm still not what I wanna be, what more do you want from me?
Harper laughs softly as she corrects him in turn mere moments later, chest ballooning with affection and relief that things did not get misconstrued or hurt one of them the way they had in the past. “If this is any indication, I have no issue coming to you with concerns.” And hopefully he never would. Hopefully he would always approach any rifts or bumps with this same level of control and open-mindedness. Only time would tell, but Harper was hopeful for that future.
The gentle kiss she presses to his knuckles makes his breath catch, the embers in his heart licking high against his breastbone with warmth he can’t let distract him. He is loathe to compare them, but moments like these remind him that Maeve is far more flexible than Phoebe when it comes to gender roles, even in small ways such as this. It is the last little push he needs to half-shift one of his talons into existence, easily pricking his thumb with the sharp end of it until a crimson bead of blood surfaces. Without another word he presses his thumb to the gem, linking it to him forever. Sucking the blood off his finger, completely unbothered and single-minded, Harper takes the ring and Maeve’s hand which is already in his own and gently slides it onto her finger. And then he opens the Attuned bond.
Like a slow-moving, wide river, his emotions are there to wash over her. Love, surety, safety, loyalty. There is no faking or creating false emotions for her to experience. There is only the dizzying depths of his affection for her, ready for her to fall into. Can you hear me Mae-bell? he whispers in his mind, sea glass eyes unblinkingly fixed on hers.
"Yes, I think we're good in that department." Maeve murmurs, a shaky laugh bubbling past her lips as his own brush against her knuckles in a reassuring kiss that further eases the tightness in her gut that had been threatening to make her sick. It was a different concept to her. This easy communication. The way in which they both sat down and simply talked. It was more than the Nightshade could have ever hoped for in her life.
It happens slowly and then all at once. He takes the ring from her, shifting his fingers into the talons of his gore crow, finding the tip of one of the pads of his fingers and drawing a swell of ruby blood forth. It bleeds into the gem, infusing the ring once more and Maeve feels her own breath catch, watching with shining eyes as he tenderly takes her hand into his to slip it onto her finger.
Maeve has always been afraid of the water. Afraid of drowning. Of being overwhelmed in ways she can't even fathom. Water filling her lungs and blurring her vision. She thinks it might be like that. The feeling of the bond. Except it isn't like that at all. It's like slipping into the warmest bath after a long day. Muscles unwinding and tension melting away. The water cradling her body. That's what his love feels like. It feels like home. All of it is there waiting for her. I can hear you, my light. Maeve murmurs back into his mind and her own adoration rises like the waves crashing on the sandy shore of their coast to embrace him too.
I'll keep breaking my own heart, finding ways to make it out I'm still not what I wanna be, what more do you want from me?
He has no idea how it will feel for her, the first wash of the Attuned bond, but he remembers how it felt after Safrin had Attuned him. Remembers how overwhelming it had been in those first few heartbeats, and then how it had all made sense. Harper had always understood emotions and intent better than words that could so easily be misconstrued and manipulated.
But Harper? He can feel her first, open wide as he is. Her fear, her surprise, and the welcoming, radiant joy that comes next as she embraces it with all she is. And then there, her voice. As if she’d spoken it straight into his mind. Closer than he has ever been able to hold her. I have you, he murmurs, and means it in every way that matters.
