Rinea wakes in the night, sometimes, and Tatiana hears her through the walls, or hears the lack of her. She walks around the home, and if she is up too late, Tatiana pries herself out of her warm half of the empty bed. Rinea does not look her in the eye—she never does—when Tatiana lays her hand on her elbow and walks her back to her room, feet heavy on the floor. "Get some sleep, yeah?" she offers gently. Rinea tries to nod, an action so human, but it doesn't work.
It's odd to have the (former) crown prince's (former) fiance living with her. Tatiana knows no other word. The lady dines at her table, uses her water to bathe, sleeps under her roof, and clings loosely to her arm when they go to the church. The children avoid her if she doesn't sit Rinea in a corner.
The woman is little more than a doll with a pulse; she hates thinking it, but not even a pretty doll anymore. Tatiana pats her dry after a bath, rubs salves on her cracked and peeling skin, and tries to see any light in her eyes. It's not there. Her bleached blue hair, nearly white if she's in the sun, is brittle beneath the brush. Tatiana tries to be steady, but it's a mess. Rinea lets her cut it shorter, fist curling around the shears when Tatiana offers them.
For a moment, she thinks something shines in her eyes.
Rinea does not pray at meals, and the one service Tatiana brings her to she shakes like a woman possessed (again), so she ushers them out as half the congressional looks at them. She is not surprised, really, or takes offense to it. She's not sure who they pray to anymore, but Rinea's history with gods is shaky. Still, Tatiana is torn between her faith and the worry of leaving Rinea alone.
Her hands are shockingly steady when Tatiana shows her how to knit, sitting her down by the stove in the kitchen to keep warm. "Like this," she shows, makes her own few mistakes but turns them into learning experiences. Rinea's brow creases, mimics her with grace, and has a line done by time she leaves.
Her palms sweat while they're apart.
Rinea eats without complaint, and for that Tatiana is grateful. It's stiff, as everything is, but food goes in her mouth and never back out. Food is hard to come by until relief comes to the Plains. Zeke is not home right now, much as she misses him, but she does not think there would be enough food between the three of them.
"Would you like anything special?" she asks regardless. Her dinner companion rarely answers, but the first thaw that they are together, she asks, verbally , for a tart that's left over in the kitchen from the festivities (meager they were).
She hands it over without hesitation. Rinea cracks it in half in her hands, struggling, and hands Tatiana the larger half, all without looking her in the eyes. Sharing is a milestone for children, and it must be too for whatever Rinea is now, so Tatiana takes it and bites. "Thank you, Rinea," she says.
She's wondered before, briefly, if Rinea has anything under her skin. Tonight, under the late spring sky that pours through the window, her cheeks flush.
Thaw does not mean warm . She finds Rinea wandering around the house—which is fine!—as she gets out of her own bath. Rinea can dress herself, for the most part, but there are not a lot of clothes to go around, borrowed nightshirt reaching her knees, stitched with flowers along the hem.
She smiles. "Let's get you to bed," she says, a habit at this point. Rinea holds her elbow this time, a motion of humanity, and her feet get heavier when they pass Tatiana's (and Zeke's) room. "What?" she asks softly.
Rinea's brow creases. If she was any other woman, she'd worry about wrinkles. "Stay. Can I stay?" she asks in return, voice hoarse from disuse.
Warmth in her chest beats away the Rigelian chill. She speaks . "Of course!"
Tatiana is not a fun person to share a bed with, made of knobby limbs, but Rinea is as lively here as she is anywhere else: stiff on her back, blanket folded and tucked under her arms. Zeke is gone, and Tatiana cannot say she doesn't miss him, in everything, but certainly in the bed, too. "Sleep tight, Rinea," she says.
"It's…" Rinea takes a moment to find her words. "Cold."
She hums. "We live in Rigel. Or, well, the One Kingdom, but what used to be Rigel."
She murmurs Rigel . Tatiana keeps her eyes open until Rinea's breath evens out.
The spring thaw does seem to open Rinea a bit. She stands beside her at the stove, lets Tatiana wrap her fingers around the hilt of a knife, and works. She is cold, still, eyes trained on her task. She is steady, and Tatiana is glad.
She asks for more yarn, a sharp dip in Tatiana's meager savings, but she asks , with her words, and seems to take an interest in something, so it's enough. She's sure she can scrunge money up somewhere, and worse comes to worse she knows Zeke buried Absolutely the Last Resort money in the yard before leaving. (He should be home soon.)
Tatiana does not know enough patterns to keep Rinea busy, and she manages to find an older widow who wants company and isn't completely put off by Rinea's self. When she takes Rinea home at the end of the day, arm in arm, Rinea holds her bag of pride close to her side, eager to show what she's learned.
Light slowly returns. Rinea no longer scares the children, or maybe they've gotten used to her. The widow gives her some clothes that don't fit her anymore, and Rinea looks nice in blue. She stares at the color like she's seen it before, but doesn't say anything. Saying more is not saying much .
She sleeps on her side now. She does not wander much anymore, fingers on the inside of Tatiana's wrist. Tatiana throws her arm over her one night, apparently, waking up to the woman curled against her chest, palm against her rib. She does not mind it, because Rinea sleeps , and that's what's important.
Still, she has no desire for church, and her widow is too feeble to hobble there, so she leaves her there on holy days and brings treats back.
Rinea smiles at her one day in the waning sun of a Rigelian summer, light curling around her hair, and the air is nearly knocked out of Tatiana at the sight, and then is knocked out when she trips over her own feet. Rinea does not laugh, does not help her up, but there is almost humanity in her eyes when she dusts Tatiana off.
Tatiana greets Zeke before he's off his horse, her boot in a stirrup as she hauls herself up, caught by him before she can wobble back. He reeks something fierce, undoubtedly days on the road, and he's got the weirdest tanline possible, but he's home , and might need a trim. She kisses him, and his arms are strong around her waist.
He takes care of his horse while she heats water for a bath.
Rinea stares. "It's. Early."
"My Zeke's home. Do you remember him?" she asks.
"Zeke." The name is soft on her tongue. "Tall," she says after a moment.
Tatiana smiles. "Very!" Rinea's eyes linger on dinner. She is easy to read in her absence of light. "Don't worry."
Rinea's presence is not a surprise to Zeke. She'd been with them before he left, but he does not know this Rinea, a Rinea with hobbies and a friend. "She seems better," Zeke says over their (meager) breakfast. Rinea stands at the stove with a slouch to her shoulders, a doll loosened up.
"Oh, she is." She touches his hair where it touches the top of his back. He looks nice like this, she thinks, and he looks a bit older in more than just years. She wishes she could stay with him, catch up, but she's needed at the church, and Rinea has wiggled her way under the widow's arm for the day (who, at the moment, is courting another widow; Rinea relayed this gossip with nary a feeling).
If Rinea notices them talking about her, she does not react. She sits at the table, bows her head to Zeke, and eats. "Not to rush you, sweetie, but you're going to be late," Tatiana reminds gently, already done with her scraps. "No, no, don't rush - you'll choke-"
"Why don't I take her?" Zeke offers. "I am not due anywhere today."
Tatiana sighs fondly. "Could you?"
"If it eases you, anything."
She smiles, and kisses his shoulder, all she can reach at the moment. "Do you mind, Rinea?"
The words have dried up some. She shakes her head.
Tatiana had not worried about what would happen if they did not like one another—Zeke has been gone the majority of Rinea's boarding with her, them—but seeing them together soothes a worry she didn't know she had.
Rinea is startled by his horse but seems eager to help him. Light drains back into her as a Rigelian summer zooms by them. Food becomes more commonplace. Rinea's cheeks fill out a little. She stares at them when they kiss, and neither of them mention who she was. It's her place to remember ( gods, would Zeke ?).
For a time, the summer fights off the fall, but Rigelian winters always win.
Rinea takes longer baths, but her skin is better. It doesn't flake under the towel, and Rinea rubs herself dry without crying. She's healing; Titania cannot be happier, and hugs her when she asks for rabbit for dinner. Rinea lays her head on her shoulder, awkwardly patting her back in return.
The first chilly night comes, and she is more than happy to curl up against Zeke, the sun itself. "I forgot how the night goes," he says, nose pressed against her neck. They are close, close as they can be without indecent (but, really, they passed indecent some time ago), and she welcomes it.
"I'm sure somewhere is colder."
He does not answer, but his hands hold her a little tighter. He falls asleep with his head on her chest and rolls away easily when she gets up to interrupt Rinea's footprints. "It's cold," she says plainly, and Tatiana fetches her a spare blanket. "Can I not sleep with you?" she asks.
Tatiana now worries that she can wrinkle. "Zeke's home, sweetie." She's never been very strong with her no , so she tells herself Rinea's visible disappointment is a blessing—she's feeling again, isn't she?
Rinea shatters utterly when a baby's born at year's turn. They're both disturbed in the middle of the night—Zeke roped into a hunting trip by some of the villagers—by a breathless cleric who says another cleric needs a little more help. She hates to leave Rinea all by her lonesome, but there's too many tales about birth for Tatiana to bring her in , so she tucks Rinea's hair beneath a scarf and leaves her outside. An ugly face will disfigure the baby, so the story goes (but some of the older clerics aren't looking too good themselves).
Sometime after, when Tatiana scrubs her arms clean and the baby wails but is feeding, she hears someone else crying, soft, quiet, and hiccuping. Thinking it to be a child who got an eyeful, she goes to comfort, but only finds Rinea hunched on the floor, head to her knees as she wails into them. "Oh, it's not that bad," she tries to say, as if she has any experience, but Rinea cries and cries, and when she finally looks with her eyes, whites gone red, there's life in them.
Tatiana lets her curl up in the otherwise empty bed when they go home, still sniffling. She cards her fingers through her hair, slowly growing back in, until Rinea stops blubbering, and they fall asleep.
Zeke finds them as such. She stirs at the dip of the mattress, room dark, and if he minds, he says nothing. He settles behind her, gives a goodnight, and it all feels like a dream. She only knows its proof when she wakes up in the morning, hair in her mouth that isn't hers.
Rinea stares at her, light right in her eyes. "Morning," she says, voice rough in her throat. Zeke's hand is steady on her waist. He is warmth itself. Her dress sticks to her shoulders.
She shifts in her arms, skin almost warm. Tatiana adjusts for her. "Morning," she echoes. Her brow creases; Tatiana resolves to buy her scented creams when the snow lets up. Then, before her mind can fully catch up, she finds out Rinea has dry lips. Her mind skips three times before she carefully pushes her off. Rinea blinks, smiles, and gets up, undoubtedly to do Rinea-things.
"Tatiana." She hums. Zeke unpins their quilt from the clothesline—tall and not prone to get tangled in the sheets. The last batch before winter set in fully, mishaps notwithstanding. "I feel I must confess something."
She thinks of Rinea's kiss yesterday morning. "I do too." He pauses at that, glancing down at her as if what could you have done ? Broken plates don't count anymore. "You first," she says. Wind slaps her hair against her body, tangled in the strings of her dress.
Zeke holds one end of the blanket as they fold it. "It meant nothing, I assure you, but I feel absolutely wretched keeping it from you. On our way home last night, Rinea kissed me."
Oh. She waited for further explanation: and then the remnant of the War Father took her heart again and she slaughtered a village , but it did not come. Murder was the worse thing she could get up to in these peacetimes, so why worry?
"Zeke."
"My love?"
"She kissed me, too."
Winter kept coming and so did Rinea into their bed. She sleeps in Tatiana's side, mostly, but somehow they keep moving, until Rinea sleeps in between them. She still laid flat, but she knotted their knuckles together. "What about him?" she asks; Rinea looks at her, and then Zeke. Falling asleep came easier to him since his return from his trip.
Rinea's arm crosses her body. Zeke's hand lays open for hers, and Rinea presses their palms together.
Each morning she kisses Zeke goodbye, Rinea follows suit. She's comfortable leaving her alone now, so Rinea kisses her too. When Zeke moves his kiss to her cheek, Rinea does too. Why it took her so long to piece it together, she doesn't know. For months it'd only been Tatiana and Rinea, with knitting and church days and meager meals and pleases. Now, Zeke was home, her...husband, and Rinea noticed the patterns too.
Color returned to her hair. Closer to blue-more-than-white every passing day. She slept through the night, always with them, seemingly without nightmares, so who was she to shake her?
Still…
"Perhaps we should talk to her," Tatiana says. Rinea digs outside, their feeble roots for chewing meant to come up. Frost came early. "It's not right to drag her along like this." Drag her along? Were they doing anything?
Zeke smells like his horse. She knows the scent. "She seems happy with us."
She did, didn't she?
"Rinea."
She looks up from an almost completed plate of food. Tatiana wonders if she'll ever be fully healed, yet the skin on her looks better. "Tatiana." Her name from her mouth makes her stomach thump. "Zeke," she continues.
He sits in his chair moved out from the table. His strong thigh flexes as he pulls his boots on, trying to be a woman of faith and not notice. Rinea is welcome to their bed, but there's only so much they can do.
They don't have this entirely figured out.
"You have been kissing Tatiana and I." Zeke's stern voice does not work when he's away from his soldiers.
"You and Tatiana have been...kissing." (Surely her and the prince—chastity is what, exactly?) They have been. They've been doing everything they did before Rinea, besides some worrying, perhaps, just with the addition of whatever Rinea is.
Tatiana smiles some. "Zeke and I are promised to one another." Until his past comes back, naturally, and-
None of that.
Her brow creased. She wishes it didn't. Could she remember the time before, with all of Rigel's customs and whatever her family had? "Am I not?" she asked. It was good to hear her talking, always and forever.
Tatiana knows she stumbles in so many ways. "Would you like to be?"
Echoing again, "Am I not?"
Zeke follows up for her. "You are."
Rinea smiles for a third time.