Little was spoken of during the trek home.
They had followed the footsteps of the Grey Wardens, as there was but one path out of the Vimmarks. For countless times, Clarissa wanted to speed ahead, to catch up to the group of grey-clad warriors that had her sister. She was close at first. With the bond between them she had felt, with absolute clarity, Bethany's presence. She was ahead of her, but only barely. At times, it would seem to her that she was only around the bend, and that she could rush forward, Grey Wardens be damned, and take her back once more. Each time, her certainty drove her to believe; Each time, the lonely, winding footpath proved her wrong and, each time, her heart sank lower than where it had been before.
After a day or so, the road forked.
North and south. Two opposite directions. To the north lie the green-and-yellow pastures of Wildervale, where the Grey Wardens' embassy in the Free Marches, Falconsreach Hold, overlooks Wildervale Lake. To the south was Kirkwall, home to Clarissa and her soon-to-be-heartbroken mother, Leandra Hawke.
She had already lost her son to the Blight, and now the very guardians against the Blight have taken her daughter as well.
And it was her fault.
Again.
The dam broke that day, when they had set camp a league or so down the southern road. Clarissa had been hard at work, attempting to start a fire with magic. For some reason, the power had refused to answer her call, eluding her every grasp and retreating deep within the confines of her mind. As she tried to reestablish control over the evasive power, a unbidden thought struck her.
I wish Bethany was here.
She had tried to ignore it, to bury her thoughts, her worries and her guilt under mundane tasks such as hunting and gathering firewood. Yet, the more she resisted, the more potent the feelings became, until her gut wrenched every time her delicate, angelic face swam to the forefront of her mind, and her heart threatened to make her plunge her sword through it in her every waking moment.
She knelt before the unlit campfire, eyes rimmed with tears. An involuntary sob escaped her and soon, she gave up on trying to stop herself. Her entire body heaved as she bid her sorrow, her sadness and her broken heart release. She sobbed, freely and clearly, letting her wordless plight ring out into the clearing.
What have I done?
She had failed. Again.
And this time, there was no one to comfort her. No lucid, soft brown eyes to lock with hers; No long, lean arms with silken skin to wrap around her trembling frame; No whispering, cooing lips to soothe her pain.
She was alone.
"Hey, hey, come here..." A soft, hushed voice, in sharp contrast to its usual bluntness and flirtatiousness, beckoned to her, turning her round and wrapping muscular, toned arms around her.
"I miss her." She half-admitted, half-called between sobs, the still-frail body of Isabela, the Pirate Queen, holding her close, offering and cradling her in a warmth she did not want, but desperately needed.
"You'll see her again, eventually." Isabela said, pressing a kiss to her heartbroken friend's forehead. Deep down, she doubted what she had said. Could she really? Becoming a Grey Warden was in effect a death sentence – one does not take their oath and spurn them after. There was still a chance that her travels would bring them together again, but it was a slim one at best. She just hoped Clarissa would cling onto it. Isabela knew full well that Clarissa was prepared to die that moment when she drew her sword on the Wardens, because for her, a life without Bethany was a life not worth living.
Focusing on Clarissa once more, she noticed the shades of black under and around her eyes. Her cheeks, originally in a permanent shade of slight pink, were now nigh on sickly white.
Is that what love does to you? Isabela asked herself silently. A part of her was glad she never partook in such extreme forms of devotion, saying to herself that she was getting off lucky. But another part of her yearned with unbridled envy when she had watched the two lovebirds, hawk and eagle, entwine their bodies, their hearts, perhaps even their very souls. It was something she herself wanted as well, and at that moment, she doubted whether she would ever get to possess such a thing, whether she would ever feel love, in its absolute entirety.
"Here, let me handle that. You just get a good lie-down." Isabela shushed Clarissa's weak complaints and laid her onto her own bedroll with one arm, while she fumbled around in her pack and retrieved two flintstones. "It'll be better in the morning."
Somehow, she doubted those words.
Clarissa opened her eyes with a start.
A cool wind caressed her face, carrying with it the soft rustling of grass and the crisp smell of a fresh, healthy clearing one can scarce find in the untamed wilderness of the Free Marches. Looking ahead, a lone tree filled her vision, its leaves swaying hypnotically in the steady wind.
"No one will disturb you here, Clarissa. I've set apart this realm of the Fade to you. Let it be a refuge, for mind and soul, for you and Bethany." A soft male voice, still in its youth, whispered to her.
She mouthed her thanks, feeling the grass crunch beneath her boots as she started to walk. Not wanting to leave a mark on the otherwise pristine clearing created for her and her sister, she knelt and untied her steel plate boots and greaves, leaving them lying sideways in the grass.
She stood, feeling the soft blades of grass beneath her bare feet. Her armour weighed on her, making her feel strangely out of balance. Reaching behind her, she tried to find, amidst the sea of buckles and straps, the two leather harnesses that kept her armour locked around her chest.
She froze when she felt fingers, soft and cool, gently tug her groping hands away.
"So clumsy..." A voice cooed from behind her. Clarissa didn't dare to turn round. She didn't dare to turn round only to find someone... someone else. She was confused, afraid, and her hidden guilt weighed her down more than her armour ever could.
She felt the tension around her chest release as the leather buckles came free. She remained stone still as the hands that undone her steel corset snaked forward, reaching between her limp arms and around her waist, easing the worn steel slowly from her body. She exhaled, feeling as if a part of her escaped from her taut throat and into the wind. She never realised her armour was wound so tight she could barely breathe around it.
Or was it her?
Could it really be her?
Slowly, Clarissa turned around, meeting watery brown eyes that locked with her own in a long-awaited heartbeat.
That was all it took to make her lose control.
She closed the distance between them with a single, short stride, needing to feel her lips on hers once more, to feel her body meld into her curves and most of all, to share herself with her, wholly and and without reserve.
She felt her arms around her, brushing up to her cheeks as they separated reluctantly, unwilling to relinquish the intimacy between them in that fleeting moment. Smiling contently, she felt her fingers cradle her face as they gazed at each other, conveying their affection with the unspoken language only they knew.
I've missed you. Clarissa said.
Bethany took her by the hand, leading her from the wide, open space of the clearing to a particular spot where swaying shadows embraced them, and the soft, pleasant sound of rustling leaves filled their ears as they sat, their backs feeling the rough, coarse texture of the bark.
"Are you all right? Did they do anything to you?" Clarissa asked, her hands half-heartedly working at the laces securing her steel-plated leggings to her legs while her eyes remained fixated on Bethany.
"I'm fine, my love. They were surprisingly respectful, and most of them kept their distance. After a while, though, it must've appeared to them that it was not healthy, for them and for me, to leave me alone with my thoughts. One of the Wardens, the dark-skinned one called Katja, began to talk with me. She's quite nice."
Bethany snuggled her head between Clarissa's cheek and her torso, sighing softly. "But she's not you." She said simply.
Clarissa felt her heart blossom into a dizzying set of colours as she wrapped her arm around Bethany, the wind tangling their hair. She wanted to stay here forever, and she could tell Bethany wanted the same thing.
"Where are you now?" Clarissa asked, curious about their progress. She did not expect Bethany's withdrawal after her words tumbled out of her mouth, and she looked at her with concern as Bethany put her chin on her thighs, visibly retreating within herself.
"I was told that the Hold is only a day away." She murmured. Without provocation, she shifted in her place, sidling even closer to Clarissa. Her frame took on a taut, worried composure, and Clarissa felt a twinge of fear lance through her.
"What's wrong?" She asked.
Bethany turned to look her directly, eye-to-eye. Clarissa froze when she saw how perilously close Bethany was to tears.
"I feel something, Clarissa. Something inside me that lingers still, and I fear that the Wardens will eventually find it. Then, they won't let me go. But that is not what I fear most."
The wavering reflections of the moonlight spilled onto Bethany's cheeks as the tears overwhelmed her. "What I fear most," she sobbed, lightly but visibly, "is losing you."
Clarissa leaned forward and took Bethany into her arms, hugging her tightly as she tried to restrain her own tears. This was all her fault. She had to tell her.
"Listen to me. Whe-" She was cut off when she felt Bethany shake her head, still buried in the nook between her shoulder and her face.
"I don't want to listen. I don't want to talk." She said, her voice cracking as she did.
Clarissa released her and put her hands on Bethany's shoulders, looking into her eyes intently. "Anything for you. You know that."
She felt cool fingers on her chest, caressing her, exploring her skin through the rough fabric of her tunic. She felt it move downwards, towards her waist, when it slipped underneath the garment and she felt Bethany's hand on her bare skin, snaking around her waist and drawing her slowly, imperceptibly forwards.
What she wanted was unmistakable.
The distance closed between them. Bethany opened her mouth slightly, as if in askance.
A spark of electricity ran through their bodies as their lips met. Clarissa closed her eyes, pressing herself slowly, but surely, into Bethany. Her tongue snaked into Bethany's mouth, meeting a similar counterpart as they began their dance. She suckled on her lower lip, pulling her forwards while her hands cradled her face. She tasted so sweet, so pure. She pulled back, leaving Bethany momentarily confused.
She heard her gasp as her lips, moist and warm, closed on her neck. She felt her snuggle into her kisses as she sampled her velvet, silken skin, drawing tantalizing circles on her flesh. To Clarissa, she tasted of mellow honey, felt like soft, wavy silk, and smelled like fresh flowers that bloomed in the summer. A pang of agony reverberated through her as she realized that this might be the last time she could feel her like she did now, kiss her with all her passion, and love her with all her soul.
She lamented, but she did not disclose her sorrow. She resolved to enjoy this night, even when she knew that it may very well be the last.
She heard her murmuring, urging her to continue as she traveled lower, hands reaching for the knots that kept Bethany's outfit in place. She felt her inhale, as if anxious for what she was about to do, as she tugged gently. A gentle tug was all it took.
She parted the garment slowly, reverently as she looked up, into honey-brown eyes that shone with sadness but flickered with desire. She wanted this. They both did. Soundlessly, she felt her whisper.
"Please."
She was not one to refuse.
She followed the line she had drawn on her flesh, trailed downwards onto the untouched, alabaster skin of Bethany's bosom. She kissed, again and again, layering kiss upon kiss as Bethany's breathing hitched, as she approached the rise of her chest to the places where no one has touched before, place that she reserved, from birth to this moment, for her.
She felt her buckle and strain against the tree behind her as her lips sealed over flushed flesh, taking the highest point of her into the warm confines of her mouth, where her tongue rubbed against it, up and down, up and down. She heard her gasp, saw her writhe, and felt her body tense as she sucked, creating a delicious, hot tension nothing could replicate. She felt her hands grope helplessly, seeking purchase among fragile grass, ripping them free as the heat mounted within her, spearing her to new heights in her pleasure and making her surrender to her deepest, darkest desires. Clarissa moaned, the slight vibration sending Bethany's eyes rolling into the back of her head once again. She felt her own thighs clench, the carnal thoughts that accompanied her actions forming a knot in her stomach and a slight wetness between her legs that she tried hard to ignore. She had to finish what she started. What she wanted mattered little.
Her right hand snaked behind Bethany's waist, pushing outwards, making her slide from the rough bark. She cradled her, as a mother would a child, as she moved downwards once more, savoring the taste and feel of her, reveling in Bethany's soft moans as she beckoned to her with her body, arching forwards, craving more and more. Her mouth found her navel, caressed the skin around it with soft, lilting kisses, then passing her tongue in a flitting, upward stroke that had Bethany sighing in contentment, the raw, lustful arousal melting back into all-encompassing, blissful pleasure. She allowed her the reprieve, using her left hand to coax Bethany into supporting herself with her own arms while her right arm slid around her waist, finding the final article of clothing that kept her from coming fully, gloriously undone.
She slid her fingers around the fringe slowly, invitingly, her eyes locking with Bethany's once more. She saw her nod, without hesitation but with an urgent, desperate need. She was ready. She wanted this. She wanted her, needed her to take her, to make her hers, as she should have done long ago.
"I love you." Clarissa mouthed. Three little words. As pretext. As proclamation. As a final, concrete affirmation that pushed aside all fear, shunned all worry and obliterated all lingering doubts.
Bethany bit her lower lip in anticipation, with nervousness. The sight of her, naked, vulnerable and utterly perfect, made Clarissa's heart stop right then and there.
Still, it did little to deter her ordering her hands to hook around the fabric tied around Bethany, and start pulling.
They slid, without hitch or snag, down Bethany's long, lean thighs. They rounded the bend of her knees, lightly grazing Bethany's skin as she lifted her feet. Then, they were gone, discarded and forgotten as Clarissa, after all this time, saw it.
The very core of her, open and thoroughly hypnotic, beckoning to her as Bethany's breathing made it part, ever so slightly.
The most sacred part of her, flushed and heated, making Clarissa's mouth water and her own juncture tighten exquisitely.
The essence of her being, offered without regret or compunction, bestowing upon her an honour she hardly deserved.
Time came to a halt as she lowered herself, hands spreading Bethany's thighs open, mouth coming perilously close to contact. She could feel the heat radiating from her, the moist, slick wetness permeating the small patch of empty space.
I don't deserve this.
As much as she wanted to deny it, it refused to let her go. She hesitated, at the verge of claiming the life of not just a person, but the love of her life. She froze, heart and mind in conflict once again, a binding battle that kept her from both advance and retreat.
One word broke her spell.
"Please." Her sister begged, shifting and bucking at her proximity alone. Who was she to refuse? Who was she to deny?
Who was she, that she could refuse the ultimate gift one could bestow upon another and refuse to acknowledge her guilt?
Who was she, that she could deny another the joyous, revenant feeling of release and deny her faults?
Let this be my penance. She thought. She looked up, edging slowly forward. Honey-brown eyes told her, with unspoken consent, everything she needed to know.
"I forgive you."
Her lips came into contact, sending a veritable shock down her entire body as Bethany cried out, exclaiming her release. Her lips moved in tandem as Bethany convulsed, pure, white-hot pleasure making the world go white, her eyes go blank and her mind to explode with otherworldly absolution. But Bethany would not relent. She refused to give in, to let it end so soon.
Her tongue parted her, cradling her in warmth as she licked from base to tip, making her moan low in her throat. It probed into her, her walls contracting as the pleasure mounted, trapping the malleable flesh between them as she bucked and writhed. Her mouth opened, gasping and groaning as Clarissa moved inside her, pressing even further into her depths, drawn in by her scent, her beauty and her overpowering desire.
She suddenly detached, leaving her bewildered and flushed. She let her hands leave her thighs, relinquishing the hold she had over her wild movements as the fingers took hold of either side, and stretched her open, wider than she ever thought Bethany could be. She saw pink, laced with crimson, pulsing with need as the frantic breathing of her lover brought the muscles to life. She saw the center, the core within her core, coming into bloom. It bested every flower in beauty, outmatched every fragrance in potency, and drew Clarissa in once more.
She bit down on her hand as Clarissa's tongue flicked against the tip, a guttural growl escaping her gag as breathing became laboured, thought became painstaking, and words died in her mouth. But still, she refused to relent. She wanted something, anything, anything to satisfy this unsated lust that raged within her, desperate for even more.
She felt something else this time, not as hot and throbbing as her tongue, not as wide and soft as her lips. It was something else, something pointed and cool, moving up and down her slit. She craned her head as the sharp appendage receded from her swollen lips, only to find Clarissa, wet, glistening lips wrapped around the index finger of her right hand, violet-black eyes gazing into her with wanton lust. She watched as she suckled on the digit, hearing a moan escape her as she tasted her with the dark, wet confines of her mouth.
She saw her saunter forwards, straddling her right thigh between her own thighs as she came up to her, claiming her in a long, drawn-out kiss. Unlike the last time their lips touched, Clarissa tasted bitter and sweet at the same time. A perverse sense of carnal ecstasy filled her as she realized the origin of such a unique tang.
She felt her hand snake down her body, skirting her mounds, tickling her navel, reaching between her legs where she had ravaged her without pause and mercy.
She moaned into her mouth, bucking against the single digit that separated from Clarissa's hand, poised at the heat that threatened to consume her.
She kept her mouth sealed over hers as she slid the finger inside her, feeling her slick warmth with something else entirely. She pushed to the edge, feeling Bethany arch against her body, buck against her finger and resist the ecstasy she bestowed upon her with adamant futility. She was so slick, so soft, so warm. She felt her walls clamp around her digit as she attempted to retract, the muscles straining to keep her inside her, to fill her entirely. Little did it know of the renewed pleasure, magnified tenfold, as she thrust inwards once more.
She felt her go slack, all her strength expended just to keep her from losing control. She heard her mewl inside their entwined mouths, writhing helplessly as she pushed and pulled, pushed and pulled, every motion bring her closer and closer to the precipice, to the brink that was her final barrier.
She felt her arms, slick with sweat, wrap around her shoulders, pulling her close. She felt her waist move in tandem with her finger, relentless in its conquest. She split another finger, her middle finger, from the fist she held at Bethany's entrance, slipping it inside. She felt her mouth close on her own, desperately, soundless screams echoing in their throats.
And still, she fought. Still, she refused to relent.
She let their mouths separate, her buried fingers coming to a halt as they panted for breath. The miniscule convulsions that signalled Bethany's impending release were enough to make her go wild, and she moaned into the night.
"Yes..." She moaned. Her voice was hoarse from her exertions, but to Clarissa, it was the clarion call of an angel.
Her angel.
It was then that a thought hit her: She wanted this as well. She wanted it more than anything else. As much as they enjoyed these moments, giving themselves into their combined affection, she knew that it was not meant to last.
She looked into her eyes, seeing her violet-blue reflected within her dilated dark-brown orbs.
I can't let her go.
Not like this.
She was loath to relinquish her, to relinquish this.
She felt tears, unbidden and unwelcome, well in her eyes. "I love you." She said, unafraid of what the world might say. Bethany was hers, and hers alone.
"I love you, too." She whispered, the conviction of her words breaking through the haze of her mind, coming to the forefront of her mind as clear as diamond.
Her fingers, still buried inside her, curled upwards, grazing the apex of her core.
She made to scream, but her breath died in her throat. She made to gasp, but no sound would come. She wanted to close her eyes, but the light was too bright. She wanted to pull away, but her body was no longer her own. She could only look into her eyes as she came, one little, insignificant movement taking her over the edge and sweeping her under tides of ecstasy. Heat rushed through her veins, making her burn as hot and bright as the sun itself. A numbness came over her senses, the world fading away as pleasure washed over sight, smell and touch. She held her tight as she convulsed, her body racking against her frame as her screams came in strangled gasps, cutting short as her throat refused to draw breath. All the while, twin orbs of violet-blue held their gaze, anchoring her, keeping her from going mad with with the pure, unbridled ecstasy tearing through her. It seemed like it would never end. She did not want it to end.
She sprang to life, completely alert. Her bedroll tore in several places as the sudden strain broke the worm seams. Her breathing returned to her, and she gasped.
She surveyed her surroundings.
Clarissa was gone.
Gone was the big, familiar tree that shadowed them, keeping them in its protective embrace; Gone were the sights and smells of clear, crisp pastures that dotted the outskirts of her home; Gone were the violet-blue eyes that looked so intently into her, that made her whole and kept her sane.
"It's okay," A voice said. She spun around to find a dark-skinned woman, putting a comforting arm around her, "it's just a dream."
She shoved her away, and let the tears fall.
Clarissa woke with a start. The night was at its darkest, and the embers of the dying campfire the only source of illumination in the clearing.
She was gone.
But not for long.
Isabela stirred and sat upright when she saw Clarissa hefting her pack on her back, buckling her blade to her side. She roused Varric when she saw her start off on the beaten dirt path, facing the direction from which they have come.
"Where do you think you're going?" She asked. She already knew the answer.
Clarissa stopped. Where was she going? What was she doing? Was there ever any doubt that this moment would come?
"To bring her back."
They briskly packed and followed, towards the north.
/She couldn't do it. She couldn't let go. She told me. Or is it the voices in my head?
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't looking forward to writing this chapter. Such scenes are most adept at describing emotion, and I wouldn't be writing this if it wasn't absolutely necessary. I wanted to craft a scene that was not pure humpty-dumpty, or in another sense the word, smut. These scenes, as I've read them interpreted and given life by an array of talented writers on this site, can be so much more than meaningless, mindless rutting. I apologize if anyone was offended or otherwise disturbed by the contents of this chapter.
Spike: Not for long.
Night: Does this qualify as happy, fluffy times?
Artman: Things just got heavy.
Ninja: Then did this go beyond your day?
And for all of you out there, come by and sit awhile. Read, enjoy and remember to tell me what you think!/