Chapter Text
“I could get used to this,” Mari remarked contentedly, standing near the bow of the ship.
“It suits you," Carver said, admiring how she wore her hair free now, long enough to brush the middle of her back. "You don't belong in some old fucking estate in Hightown."
“Where do you see me belonging?" she asked coyly.
'With me,' the possessive part of him thought before answering, "Somewhere you don't have to fit someone else's boots."
Scraped-together silvers for a mariner named Mac Eanraig had bought Carver and Mari passage aboard the Squall. She was a legitimate trading vessel out of Highever, bound now for Denerim, and her captain tough as barnacles, but sparse on words. Mari remained cautious of him and the others, yet with only sunny skies above and a knitted shawl flapping around her elbows, Mari felt she could finally breathe more clearly than in Kirkwall.
'Oh, Carver...' she thought, knowing that fierce need to prove himself. She dropped his gaze for a moment, noticing the grizzled captain watching from the quarterdeck, wary. “You know not to lower your guard with these sailors, don’t you? Fereldan doesn’t mean friend,” she warned her brother, shaking her head subtly.
“I know. I won’t let you down this time,” Carver assured. He no longer possessed a sword to carry, only a dagger at his waist and his own bare hands.
“Let me down? You haven’t,” Mari chided defensively of him, recalling their own failed murders beneath the earth. “You never have,” she insisted, hoping it would stick.
Carver tried to believe that, but it was difficult to forgive. They stood so closely whenever on deck that the sailors assumed they were together-together, but that only amused Carver. “You know, twice now someone has called you my missus,” he told her. The wind thankfully obscured voices across the deck when spoken low.
“And you didn’t correct them,” Mari countered mischievously, biting her lip slightly.
Was there any harm in letting the others assume? Carver thought not. He looked past Mari’s sunlit eyes for a moment, spotting a dark string of pearls emerging from across vast blue. Land. A flurry of butterflies breezed through Mari’s stomach when she glimpsed the same. It was Ferelden.
“The Storm Coast. I’m told we’ll be sailing around Brandel’s Reach, not Amaranthine,” Carver explained.
“Pity. I might’ve liked to see where I was born,” she regretted.
~
The Storm Coast isn’t named thus for nothing, for although Mac Eanraig expertly evaded the first oncoming deluge, the second wasn’t so swiftly avoided in the midst of a foggy eve. Mari retired early to the hammock she alternated with Carver, hoping to rest off an onset of nausea when suddenly, a jolt roused her like a giant battering a dragon. Above deck, mariners scurried to keep the ship afloat, while others suffered similarly rude awakenings below. Two sailors were the first to tumble roughly about the hold, flung from their sleeping spots as thunder and waves did battle against the ship. Mari hung onto the hammock tightly until a savage impact of a wave shoved her out. Feet on the boards, she gasped and clung to the first thing she could reach - a standing beam to keep from being thrown about. A wooden chest skimmed past her, narrowly missing.
Other chests, buckets, bottles, and tables slid and smashed violently, colliding with a few unfortunates and knocking some out cold. The entire ship growled, the sea hungering to swallow the vessel down, tossing and churning its prey when a pair of arms surrounded both Mari and the beam. It startled her for a moment, but she knew these arms, strong and familiar, belonging to someone who would do anything to protect her.
Her eyes wanted to close, but remained stubbornly open and aware as she clamped to that beam. ‘Shall this ocean be our grave then, deeper than the Deep Roads?’ she wondered morbidly, feeling Carver’s breath on her neck and shoulder until the crashing waves slowly faded to a bearable swaying. It was only then that Carver finally loosened his grip, hands falling away from her as he retreated, leaving her wanting.
The fear had taken the sickness, but Carver had taken away his touch. “I don’t want you to let go yet,” Mari confessed in a whisper as she turned, beckoning. "Stay with me."
“Mari,” he whispered as his hands found her chin and neck, and she advanced, caressing his lips with her own, drawing him closer.
She worshipped his mouth with her kisses, desperately craving more even as he kissed more intensely. Did he ever kiss like that before, so deeply? Soon enough, he was pressing her up against that beam so they didn’t fall over. She wanted more, still more, so much that her thigh wrapped around his hip, causing Carver to realise that untimely swelling of his below.
“Not here. We can’t,” he regretted breathlessly, breaking away from her lips, but keeping her in his sure grasp. Her raised foot fell with a slight thud.
She almost wept as he kissed her forehead in a kind of mercy. "I don't want to hold back anymore," she whispered under his kisses, all other men forgotten. He would give her more, if they’d been anywhere with solitude. He pressed nuzzles into her hair as her eyes opened, herself becoming aware again of the others within the hold, vaguely witness to the lustful display.
“How strange that my chastity should be guarded by sailors,” she snickered with a defeated smile in the dark.
~{Denerim}~
Five seafaring nights later, they sailed west from the open sea into a gulf with Denerim at its heart - an overgrown village in disrepair, mingled with stout old castles and tall stone walls. Ramshackle roofs appeared so packed to be piled one on top of the next, overlooked by fat round towers, battlements, and in the distance, an ageless spectacle of the old Imperium: Fort Drakon. Carver and Mari thought not of how it all compared to Kirkwall or Cumberland, but only of the archdemon and the tide of darkspawn which assaulted the city only months before.
On legs that still felt the rocking of the sea, they waded through the damage wrought by the Blight, evident in scars on the city itself and its people. Though much of Denerim was already crumbling before the Blight, many homes and keeps were reduced to mere debris and ash. Heavy pieces of broken stone were still being cleared from streets, congested with native residents and refugees alike. Pigs and chickens wandered freely among rubble, coughing children, and bloodstained cobblestones, and indeed, a cesspool might’ve proved cleaner. Only a few armed guards patrolled the streets, but their presence made Carver somewhat nervous, bidding him to pull up his hood.
“The army must think I deserted. I did desert,” Carver admitted reluctantly, feeling a lash of guilt, even though he never left out of cowardice. “I can’t help but feel I should’ve been here for that last great battle.”
“You chose us. You came back for us. I doubt they’ve noticed one missing soldier in a time like this,” Mari contended, noting the widespread squalor. “They probably think you died.”
“It’s best they believe that for now. They hang deserters,” Carver answered.
She squeezed his arm in hers. ‘They wouldn't dare. I'd kill every last one of them,’ she flared silently, keeping him close.
It’d been a long while since Carver last visited the capital, but he remembered its layout well. They’d docked on the south side of the river, a seedy area, close to brothels and the alienage. Those and a maze of crumbling buildings lay between the docks and the palace district. One of the bridges over the river was broken and yet to be fixed, so they took the long way around which brought them nearer to the city gates. Scorch marks from fire were everywhere, and though the bodies had been moved, the blood of many races still stained the ground. That place, more than any other, still bore the stench of death.
A dreary and humid afternoon running favours for a local Chanter through the Market district earned the pair a small pouch of silvers, and the flies began to settle once the sun waned. “All sins are forgiven! All crimes pardoned! Let no soul harbour guilt!” a balding old Chanter recited in a form of thanks.
‘I suppose this is what they can spare,’ Mari thought, hiding her disappointment. "Thank you," she nodded politely.
Carver stood examining a board where letters were stacked a dozen to a nail, all from those searching for missing friends and family. He read the names silently: Irvine. Langley. Surana. Norwood. Couldry. Tabris. Hundreds more. He didn’t recognize any.
“Well, shall we go?” Mari asked him joylessly.
He smiled sadly and took her hand in his, nodding subtly. He could’ve kissed that hand. “There’s nothing for us here,” he answered.
Though the nearby Gnawed Noble Tavern was certainly better kept than the Hanged Man, and Mari held enough silver to rent a room, the pair settled for a booth instead. A blonde waitress brought them brown rye bread and butter, and each a glass of reddish piquette which Mari amusedly sipped and Carver paced himself. They sat not on opposing sides, but together on the same bench, close, squeezed cosily into a corner with inexorable smiles and effortless fits of laughter. This seemed to irritate the proprietress, who twice suggested a small table for the two, and both times was refused.
When nobles came calling for supper, a freckled minstrel lad brought out his lute and began to pluck a slow tune of a song half-remembered. Feeling that minstrel strum on her heartstrings, Mari quieted, and Carver snaked an arm around her so she could better rest her head on his shoulder.
“Would we still be like this, if we’d come here instead of Kirkwall?” she asked quietly, entwining his free hand in both of hers, his palm and fingers a fair bit rougher than her own.
“Maybe it would’ve happened sooner,” he answered, nuzzling her hair.
She looked up at him, sobering, but hesitating with words. “You told me something in the Deep Roads. Did you… mean it, or was it only the rush of battle?” she asked. Or did she imagine it?
A smile crept on the corners of Carver’s mouth, recalling that reckless clash with the ogre. “A bit of both, but I meant it,” he confessed without shame. He was done feeling ashamed over this. “What’s wrong?” he asked, seeing the concern on her face.
“Wrong?” she scoffed softly at their predicament. “It doesn’t feel wrong. That’s the strangest part. It doesn’t feel bad or wrong,” she admitted, her gaze falling to those soft lips of his.
“We’ll be alright,” he whispered, leaning into a kiss sensually as if she still needed winning over. Her hands found his neck and her kisses quickly became passionate.
“Edwina! Perhaps those two should take a room!” a noblewoman scolded from the next booth, drawing the proprietress’s attention. The minstrel even stopped the lute’s song.
“Want to?” Carver whispered, pupils dark and wide.
“I…” Mari considered it, but the air of the tavern felt so humid and stifled. “I wish to feel the grass under my feet tonight,” she decided dreamily.
“So let it be,” Carver answered as if suddenly a man of devout faith. He placed a single silver for a tip on the booth’s table while Mari ran her fingers over her hair, combing away messy strays as if that mattered to Carver. Then, he took her hand and led her away.
~
Passing through Denerim’s battered gates and bloodstained ground, together they took the West Road under a sublime dome of azure dusk. Carver finally let down his hood and stood tall, no longer hiding, his black hair tickling his cheekbones where it fell. Denerim faded low and small as patches of green grass, shrubs, and sprawling whitewoods grew ever more stubbornly near the Drakon River. The Voyager strung in stars began to sail high in the distance, and a brisk breeze blew sweet-smelling petals from lilacs around Carver and Mari both. She smiled wide and began to laugh with joy, and Carver followed suit, spurring them both to a frolicking run through the brush.
A few grazing wild harts fled prancing across the shimmering glade, their tails flashing like candles above swaying grass. Mari’s shawl waved like a fish’s tail amid falling blossoms with her soft laughter echoing, and Carver wanted to catch her and love her right there, but the sight was too lovely to spoil. The sky darkened to ever deeper blue as their troubles blew away, and little glows of yellow sparked within grass and trees. Both knew them as fireflies, luminescent little creatures looking for mates, and Mari began to slow. Her breath left her when Carver spun her around and lifted her high above himself, rotating and gazing not at the starry sky or fireflies, but into her dazzling eyes as he lowered her to her feet.
The terrain grew rougher near peaks to the south, far away from the roads, blissfully lost in the night. Through billowing trees and swaying heathers, Mari spotted a ruined tower, taken back by centuries and nature. She smiled, and it was her who led this time, as if a promise of heaven waited at the top. Moonlight bathed the old tower stones, streaming through where it had broken long ago. Small white wildflowers claimed parts of the floor, and Mari knew them as Andraste’s Grace. She removed her shoes upon entering, but there was no door. She walked within as Carver watched, her shawl trailing behind like some veil of starlight, and she seemed no more a stranger to this place than the blossoms around her feet. She turned back with a certain knowing, bidding him to enter.
Carver’s heart skipped a beat, and he threw off his cloak and the daggered belt at his waist before approaching such ethereal grace. She held out her arms to embrace him, settling on the muscles of his chest when he reached her, while he caressed around the back of her waist. Never had he beheld such beauty, or thought it existed, and she’d never seen eyes so blue, as if her entire universe rested within his soul. She wanted him now, not never. “Brother,” she called him in a whisper, so he finally joined her mouth in a kiss.
Clothing fell carelessly to the ground, first Mari tugging at the ties of his tunic, and Carver helping her with her dress and shift. Carver removed his boots, quickly followed by his trousers, which collapsed around his ankles as he stepped out of them. Mari’s hands traced the muscles of his arms as Carver kissed ardently down her neck, her voice quavering from the touch of his teeth and tongue, and giving a shy gasp when he untied the linen brassier from around her back. Unbound breasts fell forward, but he quickly caught them in his eager grasp, their jellied flesh enough to fill each hand. He kissed Mari’s collarbone and trailed across her breasts, worshipping the skin where arrows struck her only weeks ago. Her heart pounded beneath his breath, her fingers tousling Carver’s hair and struggling to remain upright in front of him. Now on bended knee, Carver kissed down her belly, looking back up at her once more as he drew down her underwear, sliding them over her hips and letting them fall away. That sacred place of dark hair lay between her hips, the same shadowy shade as on her head, but she knelt as well, her excitement defeating any patience.
She kissed him again, pulling Carver possessively over herself, long hair framing her silhouette enchantingly as flushed skin met the cool stones of the floor. Only one of Carver’s legs was between hers, but he didn’t rush to spread them, though his cock stiffened and began to engorge where he hadn’t yet undressed. A hand fondling her breast glided down below, making Mari gasp against his joined mouth when he touched that place no man had ever touched before, so sensitive that it sent a jolt through her body at first contact.
“Breathe, sister… breathe,” he whispered, breaking their fervent kiss. He gazed into her eyes, fingers taking a reverently slow pace at the delicate skin of her vulva and clit, but her focus went hazy as she inhaled deliberate, deep breaths and sighed through each one. He kissed down her jaw and neck, her arms holding him devotedly, both hungering for more as she became slick against his fingers. Wet stroking gave way to gently sliding his index in, beckoning sugary sweet sighs from her throat. Mari’s heart beat so heavily that it could’ve exploded as that digit of his explored her, penetrating her from shallow to deep till her cunt practically swallowed him. “That’s it, yes, make it wetter for me,” he breathed encouragingly as he kissed her breast, taking a plump pink nipple into his mouth, making Mari giggle in surprise. A wicked smile flashed across her lips when his tongue excited the sensitive skin there, licking it until she gave a little scream. Maker, his erection swelled so hard it could probably tear through the linen if not freed soon. He needed to fuck.
As Carver urged another finger inside, he looked deep into Mari’s partly-lidded eyes for an answer. “Too much?” he asked, unsure, though her sex certainly gave more slip the longer he prepared her. Maker, had he ever felt a cunt this wet? Neither her voice nor her hazy pupils told a coherent answer, still acclimating to this much girth, so Carver kept it at two. At this rate, he might spatter before he could even shove his cock inside, though from how she clinched and clamped deliciously around his digits, he knew she would be the best fuck of his life.
Mari’s legs began to tremble down to her toes, her moans rising to forceful whimpers, and her grip on Carver’s shoulders tightened as he brought more and more sweetness and pleasure. He whispered commandingly near her neck, “If you need to come, just come.” What did that mean? A few more shaky, shallow breaths and her mouth opened, crying out, her whole body heaving repeatedly against his fingers, wailing in blissful surprise over and over as he worked those tidal waves out of her. Carver breathed hotly through his own smile against her cheek when it passed. So, that’s what it meant. Stars twinkled like diamonds far above Carver on the canopy of sky, and Mari giggled breathlessly, still feeling his digits within.
Carver withdrew, his fingers slippery and shining with her. Still shivering and humming from such recent pleasure, Carver muttered hungrily near her ear, “I need you. I need you now, sister, I can’t wait anymore.” Her attention went to him, skin from head to toe electrified, and soothingly grazed her fingers from his ears to his neck, sympathising with his need.
“Yes, I’ve wanted this so long,” she admitted in a tender whisper. Carver climbed off her and tugged down his drawers, freeing the hands-free weapon imprisoned within, bordered by the same dark hair as hers. Mari looked up at him glistening with sweat, fondling her own breasts as her parts tingled, with her toes already curling lightly in anticipation. “I’m ready, brother. Please,” she beckoned, lustful eyes drinking in the etched muscular lines of such sublime male form.
He descended like a shadow over her, covering her with his body as she parted her legs around him, thumbing his pouty bottom lip teasingly when her hands found him again. Stiff cock brushed high on the inside of her thigh, twitching and leaking a few clear drops, but she wasn't ready to take it in hand. Bold by nature and bursting with craving for her, Carver began to rub its slick head against her soaked entrance, up and down her clit, the squishy sounds of it nearly drowned by their own breaths. The mere touch of his cock was enough to make Mari’s heart race wildly. “I need it to be you. I want it to be you. I trust you,” she told him between feverish kisses. She stretched as he pressed his member into her, the pressure a melody of pleasure and pain as she sighed, mouth wide and Carver above her. Fuck, Maker, he’d never done it truly naked like this, without a sleeve around him. His heart could’ve burst as he sank deep into her cunt, grasping one of her hands and bringing it over her head, entwining fingers with his own. “Carver,” she delicately whimpered, her whole body trembling as he began to rock them both back and forth, his motions slow, but steady, grinding against her hips. A throaty moan escaped his lips and he broke eye contact, losing himself.
Carver drew breaths deeply and roughly beside her ear, his black hair blending with her own, and she could see his muscled shoulders rising and falling with her knees on each side of him. She liked that, and it felt better and better the more she breathed. “Mari… Mari…” Carver began to moan rapturously, his pace quickening.
“Yes…” she sighed, throwing her head back as he fucked her.
Forceful groans escaped his lungs as he let go of her hand. Mari gasped at the sudden void below as he withdrew, thick white spend exploding forth onto the dark curls of her open mound as Carver rapidly stroked it out, some hitting her abdomen. He’d held it in for so long, and it was all for her. He growled until the last of his load dripped messily from the head… but he wasn’t yet done.
Tears had formed in Mari’s eyes through their coupling, but she looked up at Carver in stunned amazement, caressing his sweetly stubborn face with a blissful smile. He had to claim her lips again, such was the affection felt. No one could ever kiss or fuck her like him. “I belong with you, sister,” he uttered between their lips as she snared him in her arms again.
“With me, always…” she keened and felt him pushing his cock inside again, easier than the first, inhaling in surprise. Carver’s primal instincts took over again, thrusting into her, the sounds of it wet and vulgar as the power of his hips and core crashed against her cunt and inside of her thighs. Maker, how was he so good at this? She entwined her legs on the back of his own, shaking like leaves in a storm with each thrust. “Fuck… Oh, fuck me,” she began to beg depravedly, nuzzling his shoulder as he complied.
Blossoms of Andraste’s Grace were crushed beneath them, some stuck and scattered in Mari’s hair, but it only made her more beautiful. ‘There’s no one else, Mari, I swear,’ he promised without spoken words as he kept up his hard pace.
“I…” Mari uttered, barely able to speak sense, breathing hot against him as he sunk his cock deeper than ever, planting it there for a long moment, savouring the moan it wrought from her. “Ohhh…” He plunged in again, her legs quaking as he railed, himself nearing another peak. Maker. Brother. Carver. Ohhh. Ohhhh. She exploded again, crying out in ecstasy, her toes curling out of her control. Carver’s thrusts became rough and fast as she squeezed his cock, gasping as his own muscles went rigid, when finally, any resistance gave way. Groaning harshly, he loosed again, his shaft still deep inside her. The grip of Mari encompassing him and her own dulcet cries urged him to fuck through it with several more deep, insistent, possessive thrusts, claiming her as he moaned the last of it. Maker, he’d never done that before, but it felt right with her. Utter consummation.
‘Did he…?’ Mari wondered, barely catching her breath as Carver trembled, still planted deep as a sword. He swallowed and opened eyes of dark azure, sobering for a moment as he stroked both sides of Mari's face, glistening and rosy, both understanding what they’d tempted. He almost wanted to apologise, and perhaps he should’ve, but Mari shook her head lightly. “It’s alright,” she murmured hazily and sweetly, feeling the wetness of it overflow, legs still shivering atop his, and Carver felt spent seed dripping down his sack.
He collapsed atop her, ravishing her with kisses once more, and reached an arm between her back and the old stones below. Maker, he’d never loved anyone this much, adoration of her unrestrained and shown by the effortless dimpled smile that lit his face. He drew Mari over him this time, making her exhale in surprise from the shift in weight.
He beheld her naked from below now. No flower or jewel in Thedas could possibly be more radiant, more beautiful, lovelier, or more exquisite than his own sister above him on this night. He’d never forget this moment, Mari draped only in moonlight and surrounded by stars, both thighs straddling him. “I love you, sister… You know that, right?” The question rolled off his tongue before he could even phrase it in his head.
She giggled softly. “So you’ve confessed to me once before,” she teased, her fingers tracing his pecs before coming to rest midway down his belly.
“You don’t feel the same?” he asked.
She leaned closer, those long ebony tresses falling around her breasts and elbows. “Perhaps I’m just saving it for an inopportune moment like you did,” she teased again, biting her lip.
“Then answer me this,” he instructed, still in the midst of euphoria. “Do you love the way I kiss you?” he asked, propping himself up, grazing a thumb over Mari’s mouth and gently down her throat.
“Yes,” she confessed, craving his caress.
Those big hands of his snaked their way down, squeezing the shapely curve of her ass before coming back up to fondle her tits. His cock began to throb inside her again, perhaps to give the last of what he’d held back. “And the way I touch you? That too?” he asked.
“Yes,” she nodded. “And the way you dance with me, how we fit together like this,” she added, halfway between a giggle and a moan. She began to stroke that bundle of nerves at the most sensitive spot above where his cock was still buried, trembling lightly as her hips rocked forward gently. Carver’s grip found her thighs, shifting his hips beneath hers, aiding that sweet friction. She’s good at this.
‘Yes, touch yourself, love,’ he urged silently, slick streams of cum dripping down the base of his shaft. She began to grind harder, more insistently, keening and throwing her head back. Carver matched her pace, amazed at what a fucking natural she was.
“Once more… please… please…” she moaned slow. He couldn’t refuse. He pulled Mari closer and thrusted into her faster and wilder, making her quake all over. She screamed as he did it, eyes shut tight, but he never took his own off her.
Even his own legs trembled with the effort he gave, his strong arms holding Mari close to him. Her hips quickly gyrated back and forth uncontrollably against him, the inside of her thighs slippery with cum, squealing and panting incoherently at the intensity.
His pulse pounded as rapidly as his own cock, and the feel of Mari on him, screaming, wailing, riding him, or rather hanging on for dear life, was enough for that irresistible electric tingle of tension to build low in his core. Through increasingly wet thrusts, that peak rose higher and higher until his own head fell back, ready to let it take him. He couldn’t have held this tide back if his life depended on it, so he surrendered, hips jolting, then moaning violently as massive spurts from his stones shot through his shaft into her, all senses leaving him except for this.
Mari whimpered collapsing over him, her body quivering, feeling his cock pulsate, knowing what he was doing inside her. The muscles of her soaked cunt slowly clenched around him through no will of her own, loosening for a moment, then tightening again. An unwilling primal reaction, though it felt all the sweeter. She breathed softly by Carver’s ear as he finally returned to this realm and this broken tower, his grip on her relaxing.
He stroked her hair delicately, both recovering. She didn’t wish to move after becoming one with him, and even gentle kisses placed above her brow wouldn’t reassure her. Her legs felt too weak to even stand. Carver brushed hair back from her face where it fell messily. The pupils of her eyes had grown so round and black as to leave only a sliver of violet around them, and long lashes shone wet with tears, and Carver had a few of his own. He placed his forehead to hers to prove that he was still here, they were together, and he wasn’t going anywhere. Slowly, he sat them both up and turned with her clinging to him, lowering them back down to where Mari was once again against the floor.
Gentle as her silky hands releasing him, he extricated himself from her, the head of his shaft making a soft pop against her folds when it came out. She brought her thighs together finally and laid divinely still, only now noticing the sound of wind dancing through the glen below. Carver gathered Mari’s clothing and the cloak he’d removed earlier, just a few feet from them both, and laid down next to her, that pale aura of moonlight remaining upon them both.
He brought his arm around her again for warmth, as well as the cloak. Both remained quiet, gazing up at that eternal celestial abyss, when Carver recognized a certain cluster. “Isn’t that the one the lovers’ tale is about?” he asked.
Mari may not have noticed if he hadn't spoken, still enraptured by what just transpired between them. “That cluster there?” she asked, pointing at it. Above shone a glimmering beacon high in the heavens, higher than any tower, and a sparkling ribbon of crystals flowing away. “Yes,” she exhaled with a hint of despair.
“You don’t like that story?” he asked, holding her a little closer.
She shook her head slightly, her bottom lip beginning to quiver in sorrow. “It’s very sad,” she answered. “See the bright one there, on the other side? That’s the soldier.”
“I see it,” Carver answered. He imagined the silver shine to be a glint from the man’s sword, or perhaps a shield. Better yet, a greatsword.
“And poor Alindra is over there, across her river of tears, crying forever for her beloved, even after they couldn't be together in life,” Mari explained. Two teardrops escaped her own eyes, and she sniffled.
“I didn’t mean to make you sad,” Carver said, reaching for her hand that lay over her belly, pulling it to rest over his own heart. “It is a sad story,” he admitted. He wouldn’t want to be away from Mari, or to be kept from her, even in death. That cruelty was enough to make his own eyes water.
“Too sad,” she affirmed, turning sideways, nestling her head on the side of Carver’s chest, feeling the slow breathing motion of his lungs. She draped her arm over him as if to keep him from falling up into the sky to become his own tragic tale.
He nuzzled her, feeling her warm tears against his skin, wishing to slay all her sorrows, to make her smile again on such a perfect night that they would remember forever. “Let’s say that… just for tonight, Alindra is with her soldier love again. They're together.”
"For only one night? It wouldn't be enough," Mari pitied the idea. She didn't look up.
"Then every time we look up at these stars," he proposed decisively. "See the river? It reaches across now, and there's her soldier, making his way back to her," Carver imagined out loud.
"She's supposed to go to him," Mari corrected, raising her head enough to look at Carver, a smile of hers hinting at this forgotten detail.
"And so she is," he concluded, joining Mari's lips ardently once more.