Galain's Stories

Loss and Comfort

This story includes some events which were later altered. Here, Chase is Galain's son, and Ghetsuhm and Y'Roden have not met. Nonetheless, the emotions are still true.

Ghet found a quiet spot, she didn't know where, and sat, weeping freely. Nothing had ever diminished her love for Chase, not her feelings for Galain, not what she'd shared with Y'Roden, not even a thousand years of marriage. Never had his departures failed to pain her, though none had ever hurt her as this one had. Never had she ceased to feel ecstatic at the sight of him returning. He was her husband, and she'd tried as hard as she was capable of to be a good wife to him. She loved him. She would always love him. He was a good man, and she honoured him.
And gods, but Galain loved him, too. How was she going to tell him? Self-loathing welled up in her again: she'd cost Galain his son.

The only thing that pulled her up out of her corner was this: while she didn't want to tell Galain, it would be infinitely worse if somebody else did. She dragged herself up, and wiped her face on her sleeve, unconsciously child-like. She walked back to Galain's room at an odd shamble, hugging her arms to herself. She got to the doorway, saw he had company, and her voice died in her throat.
A thought popped into her head, causing her to choke back hysterical laughter. Boy, you look like I feel...

She went to Galain and put her hands on his arms, not quite embracing him. If she did that she would cry again, and she had to speak first. Her voice was quiet, but steady. "Sit down, honey, I have to tell you something."

Seated, she held his hand between her own, and looked down at it. "Chase is gone, Galain. They say... you have to understand, I don't believe it, but you have to know what's being said. Autumn said, he "found out" you and I... are lovers," her voice was acid with contempt, "and he vowed to kill you. When they told him they would prevent it," at this point she did look up, searching his eyes with her own, desperate for their to be some way to mitigate this pain, "He said he would join Gareth and ForEver. Autumn is apparently going to Alcarinque to find out what's happened to him. I think Grannon may go with her. Grannon said... Chase shot at him."

Oddly, she realized that, whatever happened now, it was better than that moment before she'd told him, the dread of telling him. She squeezed his hand gently. "I don't know what really happened. I do know Chase is gone. I'm so sorry I had to bring you this." Her shoulders sagged as her grief caught up with her, and tears pricked at her eyes again. "Gods damn him anyway. He didn't even say goodbye."

He shouldn’t be feeling the thrill that he did whenever Ghetsuhm touched him, but he did nevertheless, and he greedily accepted her hands on his arms. He sat, conscious of Islea moving away. He looked up once before Ghetsuhm’s words caught his attention entirely. It was his turn.

“Melda,” he whispered against her hair, pulling her close into his arms. “I think he did in his own weird way.” He was having a hard time believing his son would turn to Gareth and ForEver simply because of something he could only have construed between Galain and Ghetsuhm. They’d been so circumspect… and in most recent times had treaded an awkward path of denial, attempting the “just friends” act. He’d hated it. His mind swung back to the moment and he felt his grief mingle into Ghetsuhm’s. It was unbelievable what was happening so suddenly. He turned his head slightly.

“He has to be up to something. He’s a mercenary… he’s done harsh stuff before. Maybe…” His voice trailed away. He didn’t know anything anymore and words seemed a poor balm right now. Instead he tightened his embrace and rocked her gently, not really caring who saw them. He’d lost his wife, she her husband. Grief must be assuaged.

“Love, I’m here for you. You were here for me this morning… I promise you I won’t leave you alone. This day has to end eventually and then we can start anew.” He kissed her hair, more than conscious of its scent, and wished the world would just vanish for the next few hours. He kissed her again, wishing he could give her more than the comfort of his arms.

But. Galain might in some ways be the cause of her pain, but he was also the only comfort for it. He was the only one who knew the truth, who wouldn't condemn and reject her as Autumn and Grannon had done. In his arms, she could feel grief, rather than anger and hate. She could stop protecting herself. She kissed him with a soft desperation, striving to feel something else, something that didn't hurt. She pressed him to her heart, trying to fill the emptiness there.

His words burned her. She could not lose him. Right now, she could not even let go of him. "Hold me. And I will never, never leave you again."

She wondered, a little, if he knew what she was telling him. She wondered if she realized it all herself.

Oblivious to anything occurring outside of the room, Galain simply held Ghetsuhm close to him, letting her tears soak his skin and vest. His heart beat slowly, and he felt an odd calm. He wanted to provide her with a safe harbor where she could let it all out and know she’d get nothing but love and compassion. A passing thought caught him as he realized just how little they actually knew about each other. A twinge in his heart made him wonder why he could squander a millennium of knowing a woman he’d loved for so long. He really needed to stop taking time for granted. Wasn’t this morning evidence enough of how quickly things could change, shift and end? His heart clenched and he held Ghetsuhm more tightly, unconsciously seeking her touch as he felt the emptiness of his own soul and heart. When she spoke aloud he sighed softly, tasting the words that lingered in the air.
She would never, never leave him again.

Ever.

He held her, consumed suddenly by a massive grief and relief that tangled together inside him. His lips blindly sought hers, the steadiness of his heart suddenly tripping into a faster pace. 

Perhaps it was wrong. It didn't feel wrong, it made her feel better. It reminded her that, even though it seemed her husband had abandoned and rejected her, she was loved. Should she suffer needlessly because it would be expected? And more importantly, should she refuse to give love to someone who hurt, someone she loved deeply, for form's sake? Others could consider her worthless for loving him, for being his lover. She would consider herself worthless if she did not give comfort where she could.

What he stirred in her was not lust so much as an aching, a terrible loneliness and loss that mingled with the knowledge that she need never be alone again. It would be long before either of them was healed from what had happened to them today, but at least they could begin. Her touch on his skin was gentle, delicate, undemanding. Perhaps what guided her actions was a memory, an impression, of another time, so long ago, when she'd cradled his head to her breast and given him the only comfort she knew how to give.