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Anxiety was… nothing new to Florina. She had, all her life, been—as Fiora had once, unflatteringly put it—a “skittish little thing”, prone to drawing into herself and making assumptions based purely on nerves. It was far from her favourite thing about herself… but she had grown used to it, over the years, and had accepted it as part of herself. More than that, she had learned she was more than it… and that it was only a small, barely significant part of who she really was.
Anxiety over Lyn, however… over where she was, what she was doing, who she might have been meeting… that sort of anxiety, almost approaching an unpleasant, undeserved kind of jealousy, was something new altogether.
It had been two months. Two months, since Lyn had departed Sacae for Caelin—returrning, on Hector’s request, to appease a few obstinate nobles, and to reassure them that she had abdicated her rule to Ostia of her own free will, and on her own terms. It ought to have been a short, straightforward visit—” a month, at most”, Lyn had said. A month of giving the nobles a piece of her mind, in that wonderfully blunt way of hers, before returning home into Florina’s arms, so that they could live out the rest of their lives together in peace and quiet.
And still, it had been two months.
It wasn’t as if Lyn had vanished. On the contrary, she’d written often—almost every day, at first, and then still two or three times a week. And she hardly seemed pleased, either; complaining of the most ‘boneheaded’ people she’d ever had to spend time with, and pitying Hector for the responsibilities that she—in chasing a better, quieter life—had a little selfishly left to him.
But all the letters in the world couldn’t fill Lyn’s actual, tangible absence. Nor could they fully convince Florina, however much they went on and on about all the pains of nobility, and of a life at court… that Lyn wasn’t enjoying some small, secret part of it. That she wasn’t being charmed by some handsome, debonair courtier, who could give her everything.
And even if, in her heart of hearts, Florina knew it was ridiculous—that Lyn would sooner spit on a courtier than be charmed by one—her fears still had a nasty habit of rearing their own ugly heads, from time to time. She imagined Lyn in a ballroom, swept up in a dance with a dashing lord in finery she could never afford, striding with elegance she could never hope to match. She imagined moonlit gardens, and whispered promises of wealth and status; things a humble pegasus knight could never offer. She imagined Lyn’s bright, fierce eyes softening for someone else… her beautiful smile turning to another, as she let herself dream of a different sort of life.
The thoughts were suffocating. They came in the dead of night, as Florina tossed and turned in a bed that was too large, too empty, too cold without Lyn beside her. And they came in the day, too. Even as she sat before the hearth in their yurt, sipping on stew and watching Huey munching on the grass outside… she could just picture some rider on the horizon, sent from Caelin. Someone she didn’t know, would never know, coming to tell her Lyn had decided to stay… and that she would be better off returning to Ilia. To the place she belonged.
She sighed, pulling her knees up to her chest, and setting aside her stew. What utter nonsense she was letting into her heart. Lyn was the one who had bade her return with her to Sacae. Lyn was the one who had confessed, through tears, how lonely it was to live as a noble—to be treated by friends as a stranger.
But loneliness could easily be forgotten… if the right person came along to fill the void.
A full three months had passed when, at the break of day, the flap of the yurt shifted, as if stirred by the breeze… and wind, warm and familiar, settled by Florina’s side as she blinked from a fitful sleep.
“L… Lyn…?”
There was a smile, there—just at the very corner of Florina’s vision. Soft, and exhausted… but undeniably there.
“I’m sorry, Florina,” she whispered. “For keeping you waiting.”
Florina’s hands immediately flew outwards, tangling themselves in Lyn’s tunic, pulling Lyn into a desperate, almost violent embrace. She inhaled sharply, burying her face in the crook of Lyn’s neck—and despite the weight of exhaustion, she let herself cry.
“Lynnnn…!” she sobbed. “I… you were gone so long, I… wah… I was so worried! I… I had these… these stupid thoughts, and I… and I thought…”
“Shhh… I know. I know. I’m so sorry, Florina,” Lyn whispered again, pulling her closer still. “It’s over now. I’m back. I’m home.”
She was. She was. For all the fear, all the anxiety… she was here. Even though she smelt different, in a way Florina couldn’t quite place, and even though she felt different… leaner, gaunter, with a weariness that had never been there before… she was here.
“I missed you,” Florina managed, pulling back just enough to wipe her eyes with the back of her hand. “I missed you so much.”
“Me too,” Lyn murmured, her thumb stroking gently against Florina’s cheek. “Every single day.”
“Y-you… you said, when you left… you said it wouldn’t be long… that it’d only be a month, at most…”
She felt… a flinch, at that. A sudden, sharp tension in Lyn’s shoulders, and a subtle, almost imperceptible shift in her posture.
And a small, dark, awful part of Florina… relished it, for a moment. As if she were finally letting Lyn know, in her own small, quiet way, that it hadn’t been easy. That she hadn’t just moved happily along, waiting patiently for her to return.
That she had been hurting.
“I… I know. Things just… got complicated,” Lyn said, at length; her tone soft, careful. “The nobles were… more persistent than I’d expected.”
“Were they, now?” Florina murmured, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Wanting all kinds of… of favours, I’d imagine? Wanting to… charm you, with all their… their pretty words and their handsome faces, and… and…”
She couldn’t help herself. The words came out in a rush, like bile rising in her throat. And for all the relief that flooded through her, a bitter, resentful ache settled, heavy, in her chest.
“Florina…”
“You said a month! A month, Lyn! Not three! Three whole months, and… and what am I supposed to think? What am I supposed to do, just… just sitting here with Huey, waiting and waiting and waiting, while you’re… while you’re…”
“Florina, stop,” Lyn said; quiet, but firm. “Look at me.”
Florina looked. And there, in Lyn’s face… she found an exhaustion etched so deeply, in the lines of her brow and the hollows of her cheeks, that it made her own petty grievances shrink and shrivel away.
“Three months,” Lyn repeated. “And not a single one of them was pleasant. I promise you that. There were no pretty words. No handsome faces. Just… men. Smug, irritating men, who thought they could buy back Caelin with smiles and coin. People who wanted to use me, not charm me.”
Florina swallowed. “I… I…”
“Do you really think,” Lyn continued, “that I could forget what we have here…? Here, Florina, where you helped me realise I still belong, now and forever…?”
The smile returned, at last. Thin, but true.
“…I never realised you could be so jealous,” she whispered, teasingly. “If I wasn’t so sorry, I’d say it’s almost cute.”
A flush crept up Florina’s neck, and she puffed out her cheeks in a pout.
“Oh, hush! I… I wasn’t jealous! I was just… just… oh, come here!”
She pulled Lyn into another, tighter hug, dragging her down onto the bed of furs—and pressing her lips against Lyn’s in a long-overdue kiss. And Lyn, far from fighting it, melted into her touch, her arms wrapping around Florina’s waist as she responded with a passion that left her breathless.
“Mmm… I really did miss you,” Florina sighed, as they finally broke apart for air. “And your hands… and your smile… and…”
“Shhh,” Lyn murmured. “Words are lovely… but they’re not all I want, now I’m back. And I can feel you want it too…”
She moved to kiss Florina again, but paused; her lips just a breath from hers.
“You say you’ve missed me, Florina…? Then show me.”
Florina breathed in. She’d forgotten how bold Lyn could be… had let herself forget, perhaps, because it had been inconvenient for all the lies she’d told herself in her absence.
Just as she’d forgotten how bold she could be, in turn, when given the right incentive.
She smiled. And Lyn’s eyes widened, just a little, at something she saw there.
“Show you, mm…?” Florina purred. “Alright… I will.”
It would have been wrong to say that, all at once, all was well again. But there, in the early morning glow, as Florina had freed herself of her nightdress and Lyn had shrugged off the last layer of travel clothes, and they lay together upon the furs, tangled in each other’s warmth… all, Florina decided, was well enough. The darker side of her jealousy—jealousy for things that had never even happened—could be confronted, and challenged, another day.
Lyn had been gone for three months. And for the day of her return, at least, she would be welcomed home without any further reproach.
Florina could have treated Lyn in any number of ways. She could have settled for kisses, and the gentler pleasures of intimacy, content to run her hands through her hair and over the small of her back. She could have been a little more daring, letting those same hands wander down between Lyn’s legs, and coaxing her into bliss with soft words and an even softer touch.
But that wasn’t what Lyn had asked for. That wasn’t what Lyn needed. And it wasn’t, either, what Florina had so desperately craved during those lonely, anxious nights.
So Florina had, with an only slightly dangerous sigh of anticipation, retrieved the small, wooden box from beside their bed. A simple thing of supple leather, which she fastened about her hips with a familiar ease she’d almost, almost forgotten in Lyn’s absence.
She’d watched Lyn’s breath hitch, as she’d poured a generous amount of oil over the shaft. And then, she’d moved behind her, pulling the furs over them both.
“Are you ready for me…?” Florina murmured; her lips brushing against the nape of Lyn’s neck, as she laid down behind her, spooning her, her knees nudging Lyn’s legs apart. Lyn, with a sigh of her own, had only nodded, shifting her hips and pressing herself back against Florina.
So Florina had entered her—slowly, carefully, pressing the tip of the shaft between Lyn’s cheeks, and then pushing forward, inch by inch, until the whole of it was sheathed within her. And at the sudden, full feeling of it, Lyn’s sigh had broken into a sharper kind of gasp, her hands tightening around the furs beneath her.
“Oh… oh, Florina…”
“You’re so good, Lyn,” Florina whispered; her hands moving to Lyn’s hips, holding her steady. “You’re so good for me…”
And then, she began to move. Her hips rocked forward, and the shaft buried itself deeper; a slow, measured rhythm that built, and built, and built. She could feel Lyn’s response—a soft moan, a shifting of her hips, a tightening around the shaft—and she held her close… her chest against Lyn’s back, and her face buried in her hair, breathing in the familiar, wild scent of her, mingled with the lingering traces of perfumes she didn’t recognise.
Again, for just a flicker of a moment, that nasty little pang of forced jealousy surfaced.
But then Lyn moaned her name, and the feeling dissipated into nothingness.
“Does this prove it, Lyn…?” Florina murmured; her lips moving against Lyn’s shoulder, pressing a soft but hungry kiss into her skin. “Does this prove… how much I missed you…?”
“Y-yes… oh, yes, Florina, it does… it… n-naaah…!”
Lyn gasped, again, as Florina quickened; as she angled her hips, thrusting a little deeper, a little harder. And when one of her hands slid over Lyn’s hips and ventured downwards, brushing between her legs, Lyn cried out, louder than ever—her whole body responding as her head fell back.
Florina chuckled. A small sound, but one that made her feel so much bolder. So much more powerful, in a way that might have surprised anyone else.
Anyone who thought her forever meek and mild.
“You like that, mm…? You like it when I take you… when I fuck you like this…?”
“I… I-I…,” Lyn panted; her hips rolling to meet Florina’s thrusts. “I… a-ah… ahhh…”
“You’re so tight, Lyn,” Florina went on; her fingers finally finding their target, and rubbing in a tantalising circle. “Did you… did you miss this, too…? Did you miss having me inside you…?”
“Y-yes,” Lyn choked out; strangled, now, by pleasure. “Yes, Florina, I… I always… e-every day, I… ah… ah… oh, gods, Florina, I’m… I’m…”
Florina smiled. Lyn was at her most honest in moments like these, at the very brink of her release… and so the words, however fractured, were all the reassurance Florina really needed.
Words sweeter than any promises, and more sincere than all the letters combined.
And so, for her honesty… Lyn could have her reward.
“Good girl,” Florina whispered; her lips brushing against Lyn’s ear. “You can let go, now… I’ve got you.”
Wth that, she gave one final, decisive thrust—and Lyn, perfectly obedient to that single, gentle command, shattered in her arms, her whole body shuddering against Florina’s as she rode out the waves of her release.
Florina held her close, all though it; her hips slowing, her fingers stilling, as Lyn’s breathing gradually evened out. She waited, patiently, for the tremors to subside… and for Lyn to turn, in her arms, onto her back.
Her face was flushed, and her eyes were still heavy with pleasure… but a gentle, lazy smile played on her lips, as she reached up to cup Florina’s cheek.
“I… really did keep you waiting, didn’t I…?”
Florina nodded, her expression soft. “You did.”
“I’m sorry,” Lyn said, again. “For every moment of it.”
Florina leaned into the touch. Closed her eyes, and sighed.
“It’s okay,” she whispered. A half-truth, but one she was willing to allow herself. “You’re back now… and you’ve got all the time in the world to make it up to me.”
Lyn’s smile widened, and she leaned in, lips brushing over Florina’s.
“Oh, don’t you worry, Florina… I fully intend to.”