Title: Confession
Written By: Anargil and SolamnicKender (Mage and Knight)
Summary: During Goldmoon and Riverwind's wedding, Raistlin comes to a realization.
Disclaimer: We don't own anything you recognize.
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"Hope is the denial of reality. It is the carrot dangled before the draft horse to keep him plodding along in a vain attempt to reach it."
Raistlin had been faced with this fact many times before, yet every time he thought about it he was just as bitter as he always had been. For example, he had, in some abandoned and forgotten corner of his mind, hoped that Goldmoon and Riverwind's wedding would be a joyous occasion for all, as they said it would be. He knew better, of course. But somehow it never ceased to disappoint him when such things happened.
It seemed as if someone else had been left out of the fun, and this time it wasn't Tanis. No, this time it was "B-Luthien," her staff thumping slightly against the ground as she walked along the way to the unofficial place of sulking, her bare feet barely making any noise in the grass. It was like things couldn't get any worse. They hadn't spoken for five years up until now, and even before then, things hadn't really been the same between them since... he turned twenty.
Since I kissed her.
The words were there, in his mind, as if carved by come cruel blade on the inside of the back of his skull. But he refused to acknowledge them. Nor did he acknowledge the weight of a half-full spellbook in his bag. He gave in to denial... and yet there was no hope to fill the void where reality had been. Sometimes, or rather most of the time, life just wasn't fair.
Bethany sat down some distance away from him, her purely gray eyes staring at the ground. For a long time there was silence.
"What'd you say to make Half-Elven look so depressed?" she asked, even though she knew the quote by heart years before it was spoken.
Raistlin laughed a bitter, cynical mockery of a laugh to himself. "I told him that hope is the denial of reality."
"Reality is overrated. I reject everyone else's and substitute my own," she said, smirking with him at the dark humor they shared.
"And I suppose that in your reality dragons do not exist, executions are not a public entertainment, and humans alone rule the world with no interference from self-absorbed elves and useless dwarves," he sneered, grip around the staff tightening a little.
"What?!" Bethany demanded, sounding angry, but looking shocked.
So that was part of the secret, he thought. She truly did live in a different reality. But just how literally was another question entirely.
"When were you planning on speaking to me again? Actually speaking," he said sharply. "Not this sarcastic banter to keep the unease away. Or has the price of my magic frightened you away too? I suppose you're as cowardly as they are, in the end."
"You know what?!" Bethany demanded, getting to her feet and standing in front of him in order to properly yell at him, "Maybe if you hadn't gotten all spazzy after you kissed me that stupid day maybe you wouldn't have this problem now!"
Raistlin had never been so intimidated by the color gray as then, her irises going from the color of rainclouds to cold steel in a split second.
"Indeed, your highness?" he said as venomously as possible, which was enough to make many scream, "I would love to tell you that I am sorry, and that I have regretted it every day since. But I am not, and have not, and that is not subject to change any time soon! If you are truly so intent on the subject, perhaps I would have been encouraged had you not acted as if the day- no, the months before had not even happened!"
Raistlin's reply from her was a boot to the ribs. In earlier years it might not have been so bad, but now, it sent him reeling, overcome by spasms of coughing, the blood flecking his lips. But this time it just did not seem to stop. They kept coming and coming until he was so deprived of oxygen that his vision began to dim. Suddenly they stopped, and he gasped for breath. He was vaguely aware of a handkerchief being pressed to his lips, wiping away the blood, but he could not see the hand yet, and both of his were on the ground.
"I-I'm sorry..."
Raistlin's face contorted in a cruel smile. "No you are not. You are simply one of the many who want to do that, and one of the few brave or stupid enough to actually go through with it."
"Haven't you insulted me enough for one day?!" Bethany demanded, still trying to keep him from collapsing entirely and helping him lean back against the stump. "I bloody meant it!"
Raistlin was seeing clearly by now, and saw that she had hooked a bare foot around her staff to keep contact with it enough to see, and was using both hands to help him. He took the handkerchief from her and wiped the blood away, his eyes on the ground.
"I can get you your tea," she offered, subdued again.
Raistlin's expression did not change, but something about his eyes grew more bitter still. This was suicide.
"My tea will do little good to remedy what ails me," he remarked, "however, if you truly wish to make amends there is one small matter that you can help me with."
Bethany looked at him suspiciously, then nodded. "What?"
He looked around, then gestured for her to come closer. "We do not know who else may come here," he explained, glancing nervously back at the path as if Caramon might come hurtling down it at any second. So she complied, seeing his reasoning even without him voicing it. He took her face in his hand to tilt it so he could whisper in her ear, but did not move for her ear. Like years ago he now pressed his lips to hers again, knowing he was likely to be struck again, and no longer caring. It was a lost cause. Better to go out in a blaze of glory... or shame... or both.
But the blow never came.
It was like they had both given up fighting. Somewhere in the midst of everything Luthien had ended up in his arms, resting against him, and he was holding her as if she would disappear at any moment. After all, nothing like this had ever stayed in his life for long before. Why would this be any different?
Because she's not going to run, he thought. Because there's no more hiding it. For either of us.
The silence was not one of unease. Instead it was sacred and untouchable, some sort of communication far deeper than speech between them. Both were quiet people by nature. Why should this be any different? Even when silent, they understood each other both in years past and now. It was the small things instead, the way she shifted to better rest her head on his shoulder, or the way he let his lips rest against her forehead rather than his face, that spoke. Six years had passed since the thought had ever occurred to him, but through all that time it had also stayed. No matter where he went, what woman caught his fancy for an instant before such was stifled by cynicism, they all were just reminders of a brief few seconds of his youth, in Solace, when he had been happy. Six years had passed, and he had not forgotten those few seconds.
When he spoke it was analytic-sounding. But it was because he was still thinking deeply on it.
"I think I love you, Bethany," he said slowly.
Bethany raised an eyebrow at him. She had wondered when he would catch on about her name. However that was not what concerned her now. "But you're not sure," she said flatly.
"No. Yes. I... ah..." he trailed off uselessly. But it seemed like Bethany understood the point he was vainly attempting to make. Such was indicated by the sudden presence of a smile and an arm around his neck.
"Love you, too, Raistlin," Bethany said, and though it was what he had hoped for, he was surprised to hear that she truly meant it.
For the first time in... too many years... Raistlin's smile was genuine, if hesitant. He hugged her closer until one hand rested on her shoulder and the other gently stroked the back of her head. Only then did he notice she had lost contact with her staff. Usually this would send her into a panic to get it back, but now she just rested on him peacefully. Little did he know that Bethany could indeed see: she could see through touch how he held her, her mage's hands caressing his face told her that his expression no longer bespoke any pain. Touch showed her nothing of war or of dragons. It showed her only that their reality, their world had found a place of peace. And for now, that was all that mattered.
FIN