Y'Roden's Stories

The Soul-Merge


Ghet rolled forward a bit, leaning her chin on Ro's chest. "I don't know, what's left on our To Do List? Let me check. Start sleeping together, stop sleeping together, start sleeping together, break up, marry other people, have kid, divorce, get married, have more babies... did I forget anything?"

“We have a To Do List?” he asked slowly as his brain rattled through Ghet’s checklist, “We’ve accomplished quite a bit in the past century or so, that is quite a bit of living,” he looked perplexed for a moment, “but how does any of that fit on your chest? Though I suppose I could draw little check boxes…” A light bulb went on at that point and he stopped just short of smacking hand to forehead. “Ooooh… well, for one, I don’t think I’d ever put a bondmark on your chest, and two, you get to initiate that one whenever the time is right.”

Ghet bit him, none too gently. "But my chest is all empty! Well, bare. It's definitely not supposed to be bare. I mean... screw it, you know what I mean." Her lips twisted in frustration as she tried to work out how she felt enough to put it into words. "I guess I feel... bereft. I lost the Fragment, I broke the bond to Galain... the Talisman was the last thing left that lived inside me. Now I'm alone. And yet..." She rolled onto her back suddenly, staring up at the canopy of their bed. "We have been through a lot. We've both lost so much to get where we are. All that loss... it does two things. It makes me scared of taking that step, because we both know what it costs to undo, and we both know that... things change. Nothing is forever, no matter how we might feel now. But if I do lose you, am I just going to be kicking myself that I never got up the guts to take that risk? We've never had all the time in the world before, and it took me over a year to make up my mind just to give Maeve the Talisman. Two years to get mad enough in an argument to tell you I wanted to have your child. Even if I was ready, it would take me years to get around to making the call." She paused, thoughtful. "You keep being so patient with me, and I'm not entirely sure that's what I want."

Ro was quiet for a moment, more startled than anything. Rolling onto his side he slid an arm over Ghet and looked down at her, a serious expression settling over his features as he studied denim blues. “I can’t make that call, Ghet. If we bond, there is no going back. There are deep scars on my soul now and if I merge with you in any permanent sort of fashion… it will be a literal merge. There will be no sliding apart, no disentangling, not ever, we would be as mingled and connected as Callan and An’Thaya are… if we survive the process.”

Brushing a strand of deep red hair away from his wife’s cheek, the S’Hean smiled in a quiet, almost shy fashion that looked slightly out of place on his face. “It’s worth the risk for me, but it has to be what you want too, with no doubts holding you back.”

Ghet laughed wryly. "We're too alike, you know that? Ro, I've seen the damage it did to you, breaking your bond to Thorn. And to know... gods, Ro, I love you. If you're waiting for me to be ready to risk destroying your soul, or tying you to me so completely that you could never get free of me no matter how much you hated me... Rodi, it is never going to happen." She rubbed a hand across her forehead. "When I went to Chez, when I made that choice, and I left Galain and I came to you, I took all of it. All the decisions, all the responsibility, all the blame. How strong do you think I am?"

“I love you too, Ghettie,” he murmured, strong features shifting from deep, slightly distressed thought to sudden, resolute calm. “No more waiting then… no more being alone for either of us, ever.” His lip quirked up. “I’ll take the decision, the responsibility and, if it all goes awry, the blame.” Sliding a hand under her back, he let it slide up her spine and lowered his head to kiss her.

With slow deliberation, the S’Hean let his conduit slide open and the glimmering, emerald-starred galaxy spun into view around them. Here and there it seemed ragged and torn, and in one place there were thick black tendrils shoved in like barbed wire, Samara’s legacy. Tentatively, emerald strands wound down, seeking and teasing at the column of fire that was Ghetsuhm’s soul.

Ghet kissed him, still a little stunned and hesitant. Yet it seemed completely wrong to say, 'no, look, I didn't mean...', and so right to just let go. If he was sure...

Her bright column of fire flared at the touch of his soul, essential to its nature to expand when fed. Filaments of her soul wound about the strands of his, binding a surface connection. She did waver then, inescapably aware of the enormity of what they were about to do. They had always said it might not last forever, tried so hard to be realistic about their chances. This desperate act of hope frightened her.

And yet... her soul was lively, compassionate, nurturing. It flowed into the broken places in his, seeking to heal, comfort. He needed her to be complete, quite literally. "There is no blame. I swear."

A part of Y’Roden’s soul sparked in recognition, a constellation of stars that had once formed a fragment deep in Ghetsuhm’s spirit. It knew her intimately and reached out in welcome; calling her home. There was no hesitation in him, once a course was set, Ro never backed down from it. He had wanted her from the moment they’d met and now, well over a millennia later, they would know one another on a level he had only dreamed of.

Heavy shoulder muscles rippled as the S’Hean shifted his weight, settling between his wife’s thighs and roughly joining their bodies in a physical reflection of the spiritual plane. He grinned against her mouth and repeated words he had said to her a very long time ago in a cabin in the woods. "I'll give you anything you desire, just hold on to my soul."

Through the conduit, he reached back into impressed memory and grasped the threads of Soul Healing taken from Mira Badb Catha when she had fought to hold him together, and with that knowledge, began a careful melding, shoring up crumbling verdant edges with burning flames. With each brush of strand memories were shared, glimpses of people, broken pieces of conversation, flashes of agony, love and joy.

Ghet's soul flared in recognition. It had never forgotten the touch of his, and part of it still bore the imprint of the Fragment she had carried for so long. That aching vacancy was finally filled, a sense of rightness like a key in a lock, like his body tearing into hers, bringing pain because there had to be pain to make it real. She cried out against his mouth, pleasure and agony.

She drew strength from him as he took tenderness from her, determination joining her natural selflessness, letting her join the weaving, knowing she could match him. There was a savagery in her that was difficult for most people to spark. "You will give me everything." She was perhaps, the only one who had really understood what that meant: not just known intellectually, but understood in the core of her soul, as natural as breathing. She wove flame through the darkest places, not lighting them, not losing her fire, but making something that was both; red and black, dark and light. The memories that were full of pain and horror were as much a part of both of them as any spark of light they'd ever shared, and she could accept them and integrate them. Her fear of what might happen, her hesitation, that was accepted too, woven into the whole, no judgement, no conflicts. Simple.

She kissed him deeply, body and soul so full of heat and fire she'd have come apart without his strength to steady her, totally open and perfectly willing.

Resistance was a thing of the past now; he had struggled nearly all his life to keep the shadows hidden, to hide his soul from prying eyes. There was no place for secrets here, it was all or nothing… she knew, and understood in a way no one else ever had. The barriers came crashing down and everything that was dark and ugly washed out. For several heart stopping moments he felt true fear as flames delved into the demonic counterpart within the deepest recesses and he balked, shielding her.

Not yet… not there…

Close to the core he started to crumble and the S’Hean growled against her mouth. This was expected, walking the line so close to death, shattering in places to let her in. It was the mending that was more difficult than he had anticipated, drawing fire close to the conduit and weaving quickly to prevent it from being sucked into the gaping conduit that slowly started to lose its stability.

Flashes from the past became more prominent, forgotten moments rising to the surface and mingling until it was difficult to tell what belonged to whom… and it ceased to matter. Dark lashes lifted, verdant eyes lit with an internal glow as the conduit pulsed and Aethyr exploded outwards, rippling through stars and flame until, all around them, it seemed the galaxy had caught fire. His body carved deeper into hers, fingers gripping fragile ribs with crushing strength as agony soul deep laced through them both, sweet torment as release matched the explosion of the conduit, a new burning pain boring into his flesh just above the heart.

Ghet felt his fear and it became her own; not of what lay inside him, but of her own weakness. She was spread so thin now, not enough of her soul left wrapped about its axis to hold the rest together. She had to let go of the core of herself, the essential self she'd always fought so hard to preserve. She hesitated, terrified of annihilation, and then she saw what she had to do. She wouldn't hold together unless she drew him into that core, to make up for what she'd given to him.

The moment she did it, everything clicked into place, fire and aethyr flaring together, pain lancing through her body as her teeth tore through the skin of his shoulder. She drew his blood into her until control gave out and she screamed, lost in memory and desire and the most complicated joy she'd ever felt. Shaking, she curled against his chest and wept, dizzy, off-balance, a mess of unprocessed sensations. She was too big to fit in her body. Her heart was on fire.

Slowly, she drew her head back, every nerve impulse deliberate as her body tried to work out what was hers. Her eyes gradually cleared, and the first thing she saw was his chest. Laughter bubbled up and poured out of her, sweeping away any conflicts and leaving her simply overjoyed. "That's going to take some explaining."

The half-elf let his head fall forward, bemused emotion naked on his face as he looked first into indigo eyes, then glanced down to his chest, finding the same colour reflected in the mark emblazoned on his skin. “Now… didn’t I just say not on the chest?” he asked no one in particular, “and there I go making a liar out of me.” Balancing on one hand and his knees, he touched at the bondmark curiously, tracing the body of the scarab, one eyebrow lifting at the D’Riel seal clutched in its pinchers. Delicate gold wings spread out to either side and all in all, it quite effectively hid the puncture mark where, once upon a time, Ghet had driven a dagger clear into his heart.

Ro shook his head as if to clear it, unsure whether the sheer amusement was his own, or his wife’s. The amount of emotion swimming about was nearly overwhelming to someone who barely blipped on the ‘feeling’ radar. Dragging his gaze from his own chest to hers, he grinned despite himself and lowered his head to kiss the fresh mark on Ghetsuhm’s skin. “If anyone asks,” he murmured against the silky texture of her breast, “we can always just tell them it is the Terran-Egyptian symbol for rebirth. Considering… everything, it’s oddly appropriate in many, many ways.” And given the fact that Ghetsuhm’s father had been a human archaeologist, the source likely wouldn’t be called into question. The private meaning, however, was a secret buried in their soul.

Closing his eyes, the S’Hean simply let himself feel in a way he had never experienced before, sinking deep into the newborn connection and burying himself in it. Delving into the hued layers of spirit that sang out tones of ‘Ghetsuhm’ he was struck by how complex and beautiful she was, and although they had always understood one another on a profound level, he was blown away. “You,” he muttered, “are simply amazing.”

Smiling, crying, Ghet followed his journey through their soul. She'd always been awed by the power of his, even with the damage done to it. To share that now would have been intimidating, except that she could feel quite clearly his awe at her. The complexity and contradictions that had caused her so much pain over the years made her the perfect complement for him. "If anyone asks," she said, her voice rough and warm, "you can explain it. It can only be a matter of time before Callan works it out and spends an hour trying to make me say the word."

She ran her fingers over the mark on his chest, amused at the way it lay over the old scar. Rebirth. Which couldn't be had without death. Memories of her soul-healing stirred and washed across them. She'd always loathed the way love and death had woven together for her, and now it simply made perfect sense. Overwhelmed, she had to lie back, close her eyes, and just steady herself for a moment. "You... thank you. You were right, it was worth it."

A rare, lazy smile lifted Ro’s mouth as he watched her; he’d always been deeply affected by the way Ghet looked after he’d made love to her. Languid, sated and ruffled, this time, it was so much more, and he was content just to watch her relax. “It was… it is… and a natural path for something that has always been so… right.” Dipping his head he kissed his wife’s exposed throat, following its elegant line until he found her mouth and licked away his blood from her bottom lip. “Just a beginning,” he murmured, “another step on a very long road together. I love you Ghettie.”

Ghet's throat rumbled under his mouth, a near purr. She stretched, her movements languid but restless. She was tired, but unable to settle. "I love you too, Rodi. Gods... I feel peculiar. Spinny. That's going to wear off, right?" She half-opened her eyes, long lashes brushing her cheeks. "You know you're not getting any sleep tonight, don't you?"

A warm laugh lost itself against Ghet’s mouth, “I’m pretty much counting on it.” In a hazed reality of dreams and desires come to fruition, he intended on treasuring every moment, dreading the hours before dawn when they would have to leave the comfort of their haven.

Forgotten, two disgruntled fae had finally fought their way free of Ghet’s dress and fled through the curtains, leaving the royal couple to their night of blood and fire.