Awakenings

[This post is from Hecate’s point of view.]

The birds were singing in the trees and Hecate squeezed her eyes shut, eyes still stinging as she slid her arms around Matt’s waist, hanging on. He took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly, rubbing her back gently.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly, cheek resting against her hair.

She sighed softly. “I don’t know. I think so, other than—than what I told you about. Even that—” Hecate broke off with another sigh, frowning as she leaned her cheek against his shoulder. “I don’t know what it means. It’s healing but it’s not healing fast and I don’t know what that means. That’s—that’s why I’m scared, why I hadn’t said anything because I just don’t know what it means.”

“He stabbed you with your own blade,” Matt murmured. “They’re enchanted weapons.”

“For my protection,” she whispered. “Not to be used against me.”

“That’s probably why it’s not worse.” He reached up, running his fingers through her hair as he looked down at her, meeting her teary gaze. “I know that the old weapons like that do more damage to people like you, grá mo chroí. It’s just how they’re made reacting to something in you. I’m sorry it harmed you so.”

“But my hand healed fine,” she whispered. “Slow, but fine.”

“Think about what you just said,” Matt said. Hecate frowned then let out a weak laugh.

“Damn.” She shook her head slightly. “I’m such an idiot. Why didn’t I think about that before?”

Matt pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Because you were busy being worried. I know how that happens—it happens to a lot of us.” He peered down at her for a few seconds. “You should still probably have Jay take a look, though.”

“I will,” she said. “I promise.”

“Today?”

“As soon as I see him, I’ll drag him off by the ear to do it.”

Matt laughed. “Well, maybe not as soon as you see him. But today or tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay.” Hecate squeezed him gently, the knots in her belly finally starting to loosen. “I just didn’t want you to worry.”

“I worry about a lot of things,” Matt said quietly. “Most of those things aren’t within your control to make me stop worrying about—though I appreciate the effort.”

“I’m happy here, Matt.”

He exhaled. She could almost see a weight lifting from his shoulders.

She let go of his waist and reached for his hand as she straightened up. “We can be happy here. Together.”

“Together,” he echoed, fingers twining in hers. He squeezed her hand gently.

“Always,” she added, then started walking again. The wind brought with it the faint smell of the cookfires, of lavender and the woods and a dozen other scents that helped drain away a little more tension, a little more stress.

They could be happy here—and they would be. Somehow.

[This post is from Hecate’s point of view.]

The path was narrow, starting to crumble away into the ravine, but there was enough room between the piles of rubble that were once dormitories and the edge of the slope for the two of them to walk side-by-side. Hecate leaned against Matt, her arm tightening briefly around his waist.

You have to tell him eventually.

But was this really the moment?

She took a soft, deep breath and exhaled slowly, glancing up toward him. “It still bothers you, doesn’t it?”

His brow furrowed for a few seconds and he stared out into the trees, as if watching how the light slanted through the leaves and branches. It was a familiar look, one that made Hecate’s throat tighten for a few seconds. Perhaps it was because they’d been talking about Ciar, because she’d just asked about him. But in that moment, he looked so achingly like the man she’d loved and lost that it worried the scar deep inside, making the pain fresh again, if only briefly.

“No,” he murmured after a moment. “No, not really. There’s no sense in denying it, right? It’s all the same soul. I was him a long time ago, but I’m more than just that now. There’s a lot more to me than that.”

She took a slow, deep breath and nodded, squeezing him gently. “I still worry sometimes about that.”

“I know,” he murmured. “So do I.”

Hecate shook her head slightly. “Matt, I loved Ciar. He was the first and for a long time, I thought he’d be the only. Then you came and now that’s what matters. I love you.”

He pressed a kiss to her temple. “I know.”

“Good,” she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut for a few seconds. His arm tightened around her shoulders.

“What’s wrong?”

“It still hasn’t healed,” she said quietly. “Not nearly as much as it should have.”

He stared at her for a few seconds, then swallowed hard. “Your…your wound?”

She nodded almost convulsively. It was a few seconds before she realized she was shaking. Matt just gathered her into his arms and held her tightly for a few seconds.

“Who else knows?” he asked in a whisper.

“I was going to have J.T. take a look,” she whispered back. “I know I should, but I don’t trust any of the others with this like I’d trust him.”

“No, you trust who you trust.” Matt buried his nose in her hair. Hecate took a deep breath, trying to stave off tears.

“I should have told you sooner. I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right,” he murmured into her hair. “It’s okay.”

She didn’t think it was, but it was kind of him to say so.

[This post is from Matt’s point of view.]

Sometimes he could still hear their call when he slept. He wondered if it was the same for Seamus, though his association with the Wild Hunt had been longer—and more recent—than Ciar mac Dúbhshláin’s had been. Matt exhaled a silent sigh and leaned his shoulder into Hecate’s. She leaned against him in return, glancing up, studying the planes and angles of his face.

“What’s the matter?” she whispered, fingers squeezing.

“Just thinking,” he murmured, voice hopefully low enough that his sister wouldn’t overhear.

“Thinking,” Hecate echoed softly, easing a little closer. Matt dipped his head to rest his chin against her hair. “You have that look on your face.”

He took a slow, deep breath, eyes sliding shut for a moment. I know what look she’s talking about. Is it a bad thing that it doesn’t make my stomach flip anymore? “Thinking about long ago and far away,” he said softly. “That’s all.”

She squeezed his hand again. “Should we take a walk? It’s going to take them a little time to get to what we’ll need anyway.”

“That might be good,” he said.

She nodded and when he opened his eyes, he saw her smiling up at him. There was warmth and sympathy in her eyes, almost but not quite masking old pain. Matt slid his arm around her shoulders and pressed a kiss to her temple.

“I chose you,” he whispered. “Don’t forget that.”

“We chose each other,” she said, wrapping her arm around his waist and gently tugging him away from where they’d stood. “And I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

“So would I,” he said softly as they headed for an old path behind the ruined dormitories, along the edge of the ravine. “Without a second thought or a single regret. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

[This post is from Matt’s point of view.]

The hammer rose and fell, rose and fell. Matt paused to work the bellows for a moment, then returned to his hammering, shaping a new blade—though this one was for cutting grain, not men. There was something oddly comforting about the work despite the uncomfortable roiling in his stomach.

It’s just too quiet.

He was still trying to convince himself that’s all it was—that it was simply too quiet, that the lull was what had set his teeth on edge. It was certainly a sign of the past year’s events that any sort of span of quiet started to feel wrong.

More than just the quiet was bothering him, though. Being alone up at the forge was jarring as well, but with Thom down with his injuries and Thordin spending most of his time at Sif’s bedside, Matt supposed he should have gotten used to being alone.

He exhaled a quiet sigh and thrust the metal back into the mouth of the forge again for a few seconds, letting it heat. He watched it warm, growing a dull orange as it absorbed the heat from the embers and coal.

It’s still good to be home. And it was. As unsettled as he felt, there was something comforting about being home, with family and friends. Even Hecate seemed to be starting to view this as home and she’d told him a few times that yes, she wanted to stay, she wanted to make this work and it wasn’t just because the people here were important to him. It was starting to be important to her, too.

The forge door creaked open and Matt turned, smiling faintly as he caught sight of her peeking in, backlit by the midday sunshine. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Hecate echoed, smiling back. “Came up to see if you wanted to come to help with lunch. We’re going to start cooking soon.”

“Who’s we?”

“Marin and I and Rory,” she said. “He took a deer this morning and he and Tala have a roast butchered. We’re going to start that.”

Matt straightened, glancing back at the metal in the forge. “Yeah,” he said. “Let me wrap up here. I’ll be down after.”

She smiled and brightly, nodding. “All right. We’ll see you in a few.”

“Yeah.” He watched her as she ducked back out into the summer sunshine, heart swelling up into his throat.

She’s so happy. Gods and monsters, I hope I can make sure she stays that way. I hope I can make that happen.