Archive of Our Own

When Imogen had moved to Jrusar two years ago, she never could have imagined that she’d be able to do this; if someone had told her that she would be sitting in the Spire by Fire, a moderately crowded bar, in the middle of a group of friends who actually seemed to like her, to love her, she would have laughed in their face. Well, it wouldn’t have been their face, because she had been too anxious and in too much pain to go anywhere besides her Dad’s house and Faramore’s, and people had kept very far away. But she would have laughed! It would have been bitter as all hell, but still. 

But she looked around now, and realised again that she was happy, and how the fuck had that happened? 

She didn’t typically go out on weeknights, didn’t really go out-out much at all, even though the meds and the therapy and the breathing exercises meant that she could tolerate it now, have a great time even, but Dorian had pretty much begged them all to come to his gig. It was less of a gig, and more of an upmarket open-mic; he was trying to strike out on his own after The Crown Keepers had gone on hiatus. He had done everything short of getting on his knees.  

She could see him now, looking stressed by the side of the little platform stage, whispering frantically with Ashton, who looked like they were trying to calm him down. Imogen had been on the receiving end of Ashton’s attempts before, and had only ever come out of it feeling more stressed and, honestly, confused. 

From the seat next to her, Orym was watching them too, though he was frowning. He was so vigilant he could probably even make out what they were saying, so the frown was a little worrying. 

The seat on her other side had been left unoccupied by unspoken agreement, the way it had been for every outing their little group had ever had. Until a drink was placed on the table in front of her, and Laudna slid into her usual place at Imogen’s side. 

And yeah, that’s how the fuck Imogen had ended up so happy. Because of Laudna. Who was technically Imogen’s landlady. 

She’d been suffocating in Gelvaan, crushed by the anxiety, and the migraines, and the isolation, and had woken up one day to realise that she was going to die if she did not leave this town. She had realised that she was twenty-six and on the verge of doing something drastic she would not be able to take back, and the only other option was to get far, far away. To run, just like in her nightmares, her mother’s voice ringing in her sleeping ear. 

So she’d gotten in her run-down but well-loved truck and told her dad she was heading north, kissed her favourite horse Flora goodbye, and driven away. She didn’t even know where she was going, but when her truck well and truly gave up the ghost at the bottom of the rocky spires of Jrusar, she sold it for scrap and jumped on a cable car up the mountain (and that experience had almost put an end to her plans before they began, because the Jrusar cable car system was the bane of her existence. But she figured if the worst thing in her life was public transport, especially Fearne shaking the public transport, then her life was going way better than she’d ever expected).

She’d been scouring the paper and the internet for a place to stay that wouldn’t immediately consume her meagre savings when she’d come across a listing at the back of the local magazine that seemed too good to be true. A woman looking for a lodger at a ridiculously cheap rate. Suspiciously cheap. This-is-a-scam-or-a-murderer cheap. But Imogen had walked through the Windowed Wall the other day, headphones firmly on to block out the noise, and it had seemed like a nice, safe area. And she was very desperate. And not in the best place, mental health wise, to be making good judgement calls. 

When she’d worked up the courage to call the attached number, probably a burner phone because of course there wasn’t an email, a crotchety old man had answered and organised a viewing for her, saying he worked with the lady who owned the house, but she was a bit of a recluse. She’d later meet Chetney in person, but it was a little while before he was more than a rude voice on the end of the phone. 

When she turned up at her allotted time, she was pleasantly surprised; the house was beautiful, and well kept, if a little strange. The front porch had been turned into a purposefully unruly garden (“You need to have wildflowers to help the pollinators, Imogen!” Laudna had told her later), and the plants were species she hadn’t been familiar with, flowers of darker shades that wouldn't be out of place in the depths of a creepy forest. The door was a deep maroon, with a large brass knocker shaped like a bird’s skull, and the colour made her feel warm. It was out of place with the brighter colours of the street, but Imogen could see love in the upkeep.

Laudna had opened the door and Imogen’s life had righted itself. 

Laudna had kept herself at arms length, hunched over as if she expected Imogen to lunge at her or something equally insane, and had shown Imogen around a living room with comfortable sofas and a well appointed kitchen. It was all ever so slightly old fashioned, but clean and well cared for, filled with bizarre trinkets and an upsetting number of crafting supplies. 

She’d shown Imogen up the stairs, making her go first, which was a little weird, but she wasn’t worried; everything about being in her presence had made Imogen feel calm from the very first moment. Laudna was also built like a particularly fetching twig, so Imogen wasn’t worried about being physically overpowered if she did turn out to be a murderer. A serial killer with the strength of a wet paper towel would have more sophisticated methods her anxiety hissed at her, but that voice had been quieter than it had been since she’d left her bedroom in Gelvaan from the moment she had stepped into this house, and for once was easily ignored. 

She’d been led to a bedroom with a made-up double bed, big wardrobe and an antique dressing table. The colours were bright and airy, and it felt like a contrast to the rest of the house. She realised that it still smelled slightly of fresh paint. 

“I finished painting yesterday,” Laudna had offered unprompted when she realised that it had been noticed. “A few other people have come, but I don’t think they liked the decor.” Imogen could tell from her tone of voice and how small she sounded that she didn’t think it was the decor they had a problem with. 

“I think it looks beautiful,” she’d replied with a smile, and had watched as Laudna unfurled. “The whole place does. It’s warm; calming.” This had earned her a full on grin, a little too wide, though really, describing Laudna as too anything was a fool’s errand; Imogen would quickly learn that everything about her was perfect. “Well if you haven’t chosen anyone else, and I hope that you haven’t, I’d love to take it?” 

Laudna had seemed genuinely surprised at this, had clapped her hands together and held them at her chest. Imogen had allowed herself to look a little closer at the things she had been ignoring: the smooth, pale skin; the beautiful shock of white in long, dark hair; the large, almost-black eyes. She was older than Imogen by quite a bit, late forties, although there was something ageless about her; if you ignored the pretty lines round her eyes when she smiled (although why would you) you would think she was younger, she just had an energy about her. Imogen had some decidedly inappropriate thoughts about the vibes of older women. 

(“Must be all those mommy issues!” She’d later joked to Jirana, her therapist. 

“Would you like to tell me about your mother?” Was the only response she had gotten. Fuck.)

Imogen had moved in that afternoon. 

It had taken a day for Laudna to progress from landlady to roommate. Another two from roommate to friend.  

The first time Laudna had found Imogen on the kitchen floor having a panic attack, she had done what no one else had done before and actually helped her. She’d gotten her to go to the doctor without pushing too much, had helped her figure out what dosages of the anxiety and pain medications were best for her and had found her a therapist that she was happy with. Laudna had shown her so much care, and so much love, from the very start of their relationship, and Imogen had never felt so understood and cherished in her whole life. 

She liked to think she’d had a similar influence. Before she moved in, Laudna didn’t really have anyone, didn’t even really go out. But when Imogen had started to get her anxiety under control, she had wanted to, had wanted to get out there and live her life in a different way, and she wanted to do it with Laudna. And Laudna had wanted to look after her, to make sure she was ok.

Laudna had opened up about her life, about the things that had happened to her, and the ways people treated her, so Imogen understood viscerally that all of her fears were well founded. (Imogen had googled what had happened in Whitestone when Laudna was younger, had read all about it. She’d then promptly thrown up in the bathroom at work and never, ever talked about it again unless Laudna brought it up.)

In venturing into the world with Imogen, Laudna had flourished. She was a natural when she was appreciated properly. She’d made friends for them in a way Imogen never would have by herself, had found a group of weirdos who were better off together. She had rejoined the world and made it better with her presence. 

Their life together had very quickly progressed from friends to best friends/platonic soulmates. Although she struggled relentlessly with the platonic part.

Imogen was desperately, achingly in love with her. She had fallen from that very first smile and had concussed herself on every single branch on the way down. And the only person who didn’t know about it was Laudna. 

The drink in front of her was a warm orange colour, purple at the base, and she had no idea what it was; she had a soft one drink maximum and a hard three drink line, and Laudna liked to choose something new for her when she could. This had led to both disgusting and delicious discoveries, and a complicated ranking system in her phone notes. “Something new?” she asked. 

“An Yios slip’n’slide, apparently,” Laudna responded as she picked up her glass of wine. “Ishir has been experimenting with third hand recipes again.” She clapped one hand daintily against the one holding her glass as the keyboardist on the stage finished her set and made way for Dorian. 

He had taken off his jacket to reveal a completely sheer shirt unbuttoned to somewhere just above his belt buckle; he might as well have not been wearing a top at all. She heard Orym accidentally inhale some of his drink beside her. Poor guy, he and Dorian seemed to be caught in a very emotionally involved game of gay chicken. 

Imogen was slightly envious; she was pretty sure she owned more sheer clothes than not, but she could not have pulled that look off, even with a bra. 

Dorian was experimenting with a new sound, moving from TCK’s soft rock feel into a more acoustic, indie singer-songwriter vibe. Imogen was calling it his sad boi era, only a little meanly, and he had looked like such a genuine sad boy when she’d said it that Fearne had given him a hug.  

As he started his first song, Laudna draped her arm along the back of Imogen’s chair, the cool of her skin touching Imogen’s back through the lace of her dress. Laudna was very physically affectionate. Her thumb was stroking gently over the back of Imogen’s shoulder. 

Imogen could handle being in love with Laudna. It didn’t really even have an impact on her day to day life; they loved each other intensely, they both knew it, and if Imogen’s love had an extra little tint to it, it didn’t really matter. The lust, though. The lust was more of a problem. The lust was harder to deal with. The lust meant that she felt the lazy circles being drawn on her shoulder between her thighs. 

Which meant that she was also feeling the guilt, and that was what got to her more than anything else: the idea that she was taking advantage of Laudna, that Laudna would be upset if she knew, would be disgusted by her, that she was crossing a line. But Laudna would also be hurt if Imogen pulled away, and she didn’t want this to stop, didn’t want to lose the physical part of their friendship. Didn’t want Laudna to ever stop touching her. 

“Want to try this monstrosity before the wine ruins your tastebuds?” she asked Laudna quietly, sliding her glass over. Laudna moved the stupid little straws out the way before taking a small sip directly from the glass. 

“I’m not sure the plum really blends well with the citrus. Not horrendous. Somewhere in the middle?” she suggested before handing it back; she had left an imprint of dark lipstick on Imogen’s glass. 

“Yeah, sounds about right,” she managed to force out, before putting her mouth over the lipstick and drinking from the same spot. There was an unsubtle snort from across the table, and she glanced up quickly to see Ashton watching her, laughing at the levels to which she had sunk. Her glare just made them smile wider. 

Dorian’s second song was a mournful cover of a well known ballad (sad boi era), and he encouraged people to sing along in the chorus (he was trying to improve his crowd work, which everyone could admit wasn’t great). Laudna swayed gently beside her, signing along quietly. God, Imogen was so in love. 

“Thank you all for coming out tonight,” Dorian was wrapping up. “I’ve been Dorian Storm. For my final song, I’d like to play something that I wrote recently,” he said, and Imogen knew what song he was going to play. It was her favourite of his own songwriting, though she’d never tell him, yearning and twangy, about unrequited love and waiting for the right person. It made her feel like he had pried into her head a little, but she thinks he wrote it about Orym. It was vague, no lines about waiting for him to be ready for love again or wanting to go down on a sexy widower, but she was pretty sure. 

Dorian was starting to turn a little pink, which was unlike him, and Imogen had a terrible premonition that he was about to say something to Orym, something personal and emotional and it made her want to run from the room. “And I’d like to dedicate it to a special someone here tonight,” he continued, rushing a little, looking down towards their little group, and Imogen felt Orym freeze beside her. Oh god, he would hate this. “To the beautiful girl with the purple hair,” what “this one’s for you, Imogen, baby.”

“What?” She didn’t realise she’d spoken out loud into the silence before the song. Dorian started playing and Imogen was not sure what she was doing with her face, because she didn’t know what the fuck was happening. What did he mean? Did he mean her feelings for Laudna? None of them would say something like that in front of Laudna, they weren’t cruel. But he couldn’t possibly have feelings for her—

There was the pointed shutter noise of a photo being taken and an honest to god cackle from Ashton, and she realised what was happening, reframed the interaction between Ashton and Dorian before the show, readjusted Dorian’s blush into one of embarrassment. Because this was what they did, her and Ashton. They fucked with each other. 

The first time it had happened she’d been so upset, convinced that Ashton had hated her, that they all hated her and it was all a big joke. Laudna had calmed her down, but FCG, who had known Ashton the longest, tried to explain to her that this kind of thing was how Ashton showed affection. That she should retaliate. Which she did. She’d had Fearne steal his favourite shirt, the one they had taken painstaking time to rip in the correct places to the correct specifications, and she’d sewn it all back up beautifully with thread the same colour as her hair. Well, Laudna had actually done the sewing, but it was her idea. Then FCG had slipped it back. 

Ashton had worn it when they next met up, had fist bumped her painfully and told her that the move she pulled was a ‘fucking classic.’ They still wore it all sewn up, said it was their favourite and it looked better that way. Laudna was very proud of the compliments to her craft. 

Things had escalated somewhat in the past year. 

As much as she hated this feeling in the moment, it felt so good in the long run. It felt like she had a family, and that family had a really annoying little brother. And she knew that if someone ever properly fucked with her, or with Laudna, Ashton would take a sledgehammer from the rage room where they worked and either use it on some windows or skulls, situation dependent.

(Ashton had said as much to them last month, drunk on their couch on the anniversary of their accident. How he felt like she and Laudna were big sisters to him, and it felt like such a big deal for a little orphan kid. 

“I’m much too old to be your sister,” Laudna had said with a smile. 

“If you don’t think I have the energy of a late in life birth control fuck-up then what are we even doing here?”)

“I’m going to fucking murder you,” she hissed at them across the table. 

“Promises, promises Imogen, baby,” they were so fucking smug. 

“You—”

“Guys,” Orym said sharply, indicating to the stage, where Dorian was still playing. Right. She sat back, and raged in silence. 

“Something you want to tell me, darling?” Laudna whispered mirthfully in her ear. “Having an early life change of heart?” She ignored what that voice whispering teasingly in her ear did to her body. 

“Funny, Laudna. I’m sure you’d be the first to know. You know everything about me.” Apart from one thing. The big thing. 

“Thank you so much!” Dorian finished, and jumped off the front of the stage directly towards them, hands out in supplication towards her. “Don’t kill me, don’t kill me Imogen, they made me do it, paid me to do it, I had no choice, I had to give up a shift at Thunderwave to play here tonight, please. ” Dorian came from money but was refusing to engage with it, in the way that only rich people could. 

“I’m not going to kill you, Dorian. Just Ashton.”

“Don’t let Laudna kill me either, that’d be so much worse.” Laudna didn’t seem to be offended by this. 

“You played very well tonight, Dorian,” Laudna said, having grown used to their squabbles. “I think I liked the first one best.” 

“Thank you, Laudna.” He seemed relieved at the topic change. 

“Finish these then home?” Imogen asked, nodding towards the glass of wine. 

“Yes, please. We can kill Ashton another time.” 

Imogen loved that we. She and Laudna were ride or die. 

2.

“I hate this.” Laudna was proving to be an impossible patient. It was very cute. 

“I know you do, honey.” She was trying helplessly to sit up in her bed, and was doing a very poor job of it. “But the doctor said you had to rest.”

“Yes, rest, Imogen, not perish in my bed like a Victorian consumptive!” 

“I don’t think you’re supposed to sleep too much with a concussion anyway, but you need to rest your leg.” 

A heavy trunk had fallen on her at work yesterday, fracturing her ankle and knocking her into a shelf, onto which she’d summarily hit her head. Imogen had only just started to calm down after Evelyn’s phone call from the hospital.  

Laudna worked a couple of days a week for Ariks Esteross (who seemed to be an honest to god Lord), cataloguing and archiving the antiques and oddities collected by the previous owner of his estate. Laudna hadn’t been clear about their relationship, but Imogen had heard him talk about Ellia Prudaj exactly one time, and had known he’d loved her with all his heart. He was paying Laudna more money than he should be to take care of her things, knowing he’d chosen someone who would do it with care and love. She kept coming home with a ridiculous amount of home baking. 

“Yes, but do I need to rest my leg in bed? Constantly?” She had managed to sit up when Imogen had pulled on her arms. 

“I mean, no? You’re the one who flopped yourself here,” she said suppressing a laugh. “It’s only been a few hours. You’ve got a book.”

“Well the stairs were hard! And the words are still a little blurry!” 

“Well Launda, we can do hard things. And I’m here to help you!” 

“Imogen, if you call one of our friends to carry me down the stairs I swear I will evict you!’ Imogen couldn’t hold back the laughter at this one.

“I already called Ashton, should I go pack up my things?” She moved towards the door, but Laudna grabbed her firmly by the wrist and held her there (she did not acknowledge the way her pulse spiked).  

“Don’t you dare.” This was said lightly, but there was a part of Imogen that shone at the conviction. “And no you didn’t, you’re a terrible liar.” 

“I’m an excellent liar, thank you, just not with you.” She maintained that this was true. She was terrible at hiding her feelings, and wasn't even really hiding them at this point. Laudna was just oblivious. “And if you really want to be carried downstairs, if that’s easier than the cute little shuffle hop you did to get up here last night,” (Imogen’s hands had been on her waist to support her, so she didn’t fall down. She wasn’t thinking about that either) “then I can carry you.”

“You can’t carry me down the stairs, Imogen, don’t be absurd.” Well that sounded like a challenge. 

She took the hand that was holding her wrist and wrapped it around the back of her neck, slid one arm around Laudna’s back and one under her knees, careful not to jostle the boot, and picked her up. 

She barely weighed anything, and Imogen still had some farm strength in her. Her job was basically riding horses all day. There was almost no effort required at all. 

(Don't think about how easily you can hold her up. Don’t think about the fact you could do it one handed. Don’t think about her legs around your waist.)

“I hope you understand the consequences of dropping me; it’s miracle enough I didn’t break a hip yesterday.” She sounded very prim and proper, and Imogen could tell she was trying not to laugh. 

“Laudna, you’re forty-nine, not eighty-nine, you’re not going to break a hip. You’re young and beautiful and I’ve seen how flexible you are.” She had thought a lot about how flexible she was. 

“If it gets too much just put me down and I’ll hobble, alright?” Imogen couldn’t see her face but she sounded a little shy. “This is excessive.” 

“I’m not going to drop you, you’re like a lovely willow tree sapling.” Imogen what the fuck? That might have been the gayest thing she’d ever said. “Are you trying to take away my opportunity to be your knight in shining armour?” 

“Far be it from me to deny you the heroics. Proceed.” 

Manoeuvring her down the stairs was surprisingly easy until Laudna started teasing her. “My goodness, Imogen, what would I ever do without you? Your biceps are just so big and strong, I’m overcome!”

“Stop it, or I really will drop you.” It was much harder to carry someone when you were laughing. Imogen managed to get her to the sofa without incident. 

“Whatever shall I do to repay you?” she said, in that mocking, simpering tone, before she smiled her real, sharp smile and said softly, “Thank you, darling,” and kissed her on the cheek. 

“Well I’m glad you had your fun,” she said, desperately trying to push the blush down. 

“You look like you had yours too,” said a teasing voice from the door. Fearne was leaning on the living room door frame, her eyes alight as she watched them untangle themselves. 

“How did you get in here?” Imogen asked indignantly, knowing full well she would be mocked for this scene for the next month. 

“You gave me a key.”

“We gave you a key for emergencies only, and we gave it to Orym.”

“That’s what I said?” She crossed the room and threw herself down next to Laudna in a twirl of fabric. “I just came to see how my best girl was doing,” she said, resting her head on Laudna’s shoulder. 

“I’m alright, Imogen is taking very good care of me,” Laudna beamed up at her. 

“Mmm, I bet.” There was a wink thrown at her that Laudna could not see. “I brought some of my best gummies to help you out.”

“Fearne, she can’t have edibles with her concussion and pain meds!”

“I love you, Imogen, you’re so, so beautiful, but you can be a real downer sometimes.” Only the flirtatious smile that accompanied that softened the blow. 

“Thank you, Fearne, but Imogen is right.” Vindication. “I could go for a cup of tea, though, Imogen, if you were feeling up to it? Please?”

“Of course. Fearne?”

“Do you have the one that makes you feel like you’re floating?” 

“No, not after I found where you hid it and threw it away,” she said sternly. She’d gotten accidentally high and spent the next three hours throwing up. 

“Then no thanks, buzzkill, I’ll leave you girls to it,” she added to Laudna, in an undertone, “I’ll slip the gummies in your coat pocket.”

“Thank you, but I don’t hide things from Imogen,” Laudna whispered back, loud enough that she could hear it. Fearne gave them both a kiss on the cheek before flouncing out. 

“Anything else you want right now?” Imogen asked when she came back with the tea, putting two mugs on the coffee table. 

“No, thank you, but—“ Laudna stopped herself, looking a little unsure. “Would you sit with me?” Every part of her felt full up with love. 

“Of course, no place I’d rather be.” 

She was on her way out to work when she heard Laudna on the phone in the kitchen, which was weird; no one even really had her number. Imogen was stopping by Chetney’s shop on her way to the stables to drop off some of the metal work Laudna had done for one of his commissions; he refused to touch anything that wasn’t wood, and contracted Laudna for work in metal, fabric and, her favourite, bone. 

“Yes, I’m glad that you’re interested,” she was saying, using the voice that made her sound like some old Tal’Dorei aristocrat. “I have a great deal of affection for it, but it’s time for a change.” 

What—

“That is under the listing price I’m afraid, although I am willing to negotiate.” Imogen could feel her breathing shallow, and an intense feeling of dread spread across her chest. Was she talking about the house?

“Yes, I’d be more than happy to arrange a viewing.” Laudna didn’t know she was still here. She’d only come back in because she’d forgotten her headphones. Imogen only realised that she’d backed away when the front door closed behind her. All she could feel was a numb chill across her hands. 

Laudna was selling the house. Laudna was leaving. 

Imogen’s legs moved of their own volition, and she didn’t even know where she was going until she heard the ding of the bell as she entered Chetney’s shop. She placed the box she’d apparently picked up in her escape on the counter. 

“Fuck, what’s wrong with you?” Chetney said after a single look at her. 

“I think it might be over,” she whispered, and threw herself onto the chair between the counter and the wall before she fell down. 

“Be careful! That’s mahogany!” He took the box of Laudna’s decoration into the workshop through the back, then came around the counter and stood in front of her. “Seriously, Imogen, you look like death.” 

“I think Laudna’s selling the house,” she managed to say, though it was taking most of her effort to breathe and not burst into tears. 

“Ok?”

“And she didn’t tell me, I just overheard. She’s selling the house, Chet.”

“So you’ll just get a different house?” He sounded like he didn’t see the problem here, didn’t understand that her life was over. 

“She wants to leave. She doesn’t want our life anymore, said she needed a change. Oh god, what if she’s going back to Tal’Dorei?” She could only control the breathing or the crying, and realised the choice had been made for her when she felt the tears run down her cheeks. 

“You and I both know she’d never go back to Tal’Dorei.” Chetney handed her an old fashioned handkerchief from his shirt pocket. It was covered in what she hoped was varnish. She didn’t use it, wiped the tears with her sleeve instead. 

“I can’t do this without her, Chet.” She didn’t have to look up very far to meet his eyes, even when she was sitting down.

He gave a long suffering sigh, walked back behind the counter and picked up the old landline from the desk. When his call was answered he said, “Your girl is having a meltdown in my shop and it’s scaring away customers! Come get your house in order, and talk some sense into this bitch,” before abruptly hanging up. 

“Chetney!”

“What! I’m an old man, Imogen! I don’t have time for any of this romcom misunderstanding bullshit. That terrifying woman you’ve hitched your wagon to would expire on the spot before leaving you, and I do not have time for this. I’m trying to run a business!” It strangely made her feel better, his automatic assumption that she was wrong. 

Instead of arguing, she said, “How is this bench so goddamn comfortable? It’s just a bit of wood!”

“Just a bit of wood? Just a bit of wood?! Craftsmanship! That’s why it’s so comfortable, you heathen!” He held out his coffee mug to her. “Here, drink this. Try and calm down.” 

“Fuck, is there whiskey in this? It’s 8 am!” 

“I’m an old man! I can do whatever the fuck I want!” The mug was snatched back from her hand. 

She desperately hoped that she was wrong, but what if she wasn’t? What if Laudna was leaving? Why was Laudna leaving? Had Imogen done something? Not done something? Had Laudna met someone else? Did she know?

When the door opened it felt like it was almost yanked from the hinges. Impressive, given the woman standing there could barely lift a watermelon. Laudna didn’t even acknowledge Chetney as she sat down next to Imogen and took her hand. She’d clearly come in a rush, hadn’t even finished doing her make-up. “Imogen, are you alright? What’s happened?”

“Are you selling it?” She wasn’t beating around the bush, then. “I heard you on the phone.” Laudna cocked her head a little too far to the right (no such thing as too far) and looked at her as if she didn’t understand at all. 

“Yes?” 

“Fuck.” And the tears were back. 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I didn’t know you liked it so much!” 

“What?”

“What?” Laudna looked like she was floundering. 

“She thinks you’re talking about the house!” Chetney yelled from the back room, where he was clearly eavesdropping. 

“The house?” Laudna was looking at her as if she had lost her mind. Maybe she had. “Darling, you thought I was selling our house?”

“It’s your house, Laudna, I’m just a lodger. You have every right to sell it.” 

“Imogen, you’ve never been just anything in your entire life.” This was patently untrue, but she could believe that maybe she’d never been a just to Laudna. “And it’s our house. Our home.” And that made the tears come faster. 

“I think I may have catastrophised a bit,” she said, and managed to force out a watery chuckle, even though she didn’t want to. 

“Maybe a bit.” Laudna’s smile was slow and kind, and she tangled their fingers together. “I’m selling that awful vase.”

“Zhudanna’s vase?” Zhudanna had owned their house and leased a room to Laudna. When she’d died she’d left everything to her. 

“I know. I feel awful about it, it was her most prized possession and she loved it. And obviously I’m eternally grateful for her generosity; she gave me stability and safety, and by leaving me the house, she led me to you.” This was accompanied by a squeeze of her hand and a look so full of adoration that Imogen would remember it every day for the rest of her life. “I hate that vase, Imogen. It’s hideous and the detailing is embarrassing, but it’s worth a lot of money. The hatred has finally surpassed the guilt.”

“But you said you had a ‘great deal of affection for it’,” she quoted.

“I’m trying to sell it, I’m not going to say that the glazing looks like it was done by a three year old.” Laudna reached out and tucked a stray piece of hair behind Imogen’s ear, and she had to remind herself to breathe. “If we ever sell our house, I promise, we will do it together, and we will know where we are going next.” 

It was this that undid her, the assurance that their lives were entwined, that Laudna would always be there. She tucked her head into Laudna’s neck and wrapped her arms around her waist. “I’m sorry I’m such a nightmare,” she murmured into her neck. 

“Hush, you’re wonderful.” Laudna was running her fingers through Imogen’s hair. 

“Now that you’ve fixed this extremely avoidable shitshow in the middle of my shop,” Chetney said, head popping over the counter, “I do have something I need to discuss with you.” 

Laudna turned to listen to him, ending their embrace, but she took Imogen’s hand again. He was holding his hat in his hands, and looked like he was about to make a speech. “Laudna,” he said in a very formal tone, “do you remember the piece I made for Mistress Sheshadri last year?” 

“The table?”

“‘The table’,” he mocked, “the beautiful, sixteen seater cedar masterpiece that you made inferior with a bone inlay that she insisted on.” 

“Yes?” 

“Well, it has been commended by the Association of Master Craftsmen.” He looked like this was the best thing that had ever happened to him. 

“Chetney, that’s wonderful!” Laudna exclaimed. “Congratulations!” 

“I have been invited to a dinner to celebrate, and I would be honoured if you would accompany me.” He did a little bow, with his hand over his heart. 

“Oh.” Laudna looked so touched at the invite that she didn’t seem to know what to say. 

“Deanna was busy?” Imogen guessed. 

“She had a prior engagement. With Fearne.” And he felt left out. 

“Third choice, then,” Laudna said, looking like she was much more comfortable with this idea. It made Imogen, who chose Laudna first in every aspect of her life, furious. But Chetney meant well, and Laudna looked happy, so she kept it to herself. 

“I don’t know, Laudna, I think Chet is asking you out.”  

“Imogen, please. Laudna, you’re a great girl, but you’re not my type.” The formality was gone, and he jammed his hat back on his head. Laudna shrugged, as if the idea that she was anyone’s type was absurd. This time Imogen couldn’t keep the anger from her face and she saw Chetney clock it; there was a spark to his eye that Imogen knew meant she was about to face the consequences of the teasing. And of scaring away his hypothetical customers. 

“Besides,” he said, keeping eye contact with Laudna, “you and I both have an appreciation for a younger woman,” he looked at Imogen, “and I don’t want a brick through my window.” Bastard. 

“What?” Laudna sounded genuinely confused. 

“Laudna’s a lot younger than you, Chet.” Imogen ignored her, and heard the venom in her own voice. 

“I don’t want to go out with Chetney?” She sounded very confused. 

“Good,” they both said, and then were silent. Imogen didn’t know how this conversation had gotten away from her. 

“Imogen, don’t you need to get to work? Do you feel up to it?” Bless her, she was playing peacemaker to something she didn’t understand. 

“Yeah, I’m already late. See you at home later?” 

“Wonderful.” Laudna kissed her goodbye on the cheek, to which Chetney snorted loudly and retreated to his workshop. Bastard. 

4.

“Imogen!” Laudna called from her bedroom. Imogen ducked out of her room to find Laudna’s door open, which meant an invitation. 

“Yeah?” 

“Oh, you’re here. What does one wear to a punk show?” She was out of sight behind the door to her wardrobe, staring into a sea of dark clothes, but Imogen could see her back in the mirror. She wasn’t wearing a shirt. She wasn’t wearing a shirt. What the fuck. All Imogen could see was miles of pale skin under a black bra. She needed to leave. She needed to leave immediately. 

“You wear whatever you want.” Imogen wasn’t sure how she was talking, but she thanked whatever god was out there that she wasn’t struck mute. With a great deal of effort she turned around to stare at Pâté in his cage. She couldn’t have inappropriate thoughts when she was staring at that bedraggled excuse for a pet rat. “I think it’s very much a fuck you, I’ll do what I want vibe.” She could still see it. It was burned into her eyelids. She’d never be able to forget. Fuck. “It’ll be busy though, so maybe avoid some of the more extravagant skirts?” The guilt, and a great deal of shame, hit her; she already knew she’d be thinking about it later, when she was alone in bed. Like a creep. 

“Yes, Fearne said the same, so I’ve pulled out the rarely worn jeans.” Imogen had seen those too; they were black and very, very tight. “She also left this on my bed, though I don’t know when she was here, and I’m making the poor decision to trust her. Thoughts?” She didn’t move. “Oh! Imogen, you can turn around now, that’s very chivalrous of you.” Laudna sounded deeply endeared, whereas Imogen was just trying to stop her traitorous heart from racing. She turned. 

Thankfully (disappointingly) Laudna was fully dressed, and was wearing a ripped up grey t-shirt with a deeply dirty joke on the front. Her eye make-up was intricate and dramatically excessive, her hair long and loose down her back. Her lips were painted a deep red (not that Imogen was looking at her lips). She didn’t quite look like herself, but she still looked amazing. Women were going to be throwing themselves at her. Imogen was having some very conflicting feelings. “You look fantastic, Laudna. I don’t love it as much as your normal vibe,” normally she looked like a sickly gothic ghost from whatever era she was feeling that week; Imogen probably should not have found it as sexy as she did, “but for tonight? Yeah, you look badass. Maybe a little cold though?” 

“Hmm, I hadn’t thought about that.” Laudna looked Imogen up and down, and she barely managed to suppress the shiver at the appraisal. Laudna crossed the room quickly and reached for Imogen’s waist (what was happening what the fuck). She untied the checked shirt that Imogen had forgotten she was wearing and slipped it on. It was baggy on Imogen, so looked comically large on Laudna, who was tall but would have blown away in a moderate wind. She rolled the sleeves up to the elbow. “Perfect,” she grinned.

Imogen was having some very distinct feelings about Laudna wearing her clothes. They ranged from wanting to rip them off her, through proposing, and back out to wanting to eat glass. “Perfect,” she agreed. 

“Almost ready to go?”

Imogen looked down at herself. “Laudna if you think I can go out like this with you looking like that, you probably need glasses.”

“Nonsense, you look lovely.” Imogen was in her rattiest pair of jeans and an old band T-shirt. She did not look lovely. 

“Give me twenty to change and fix my eyeliner.” 

“No rush! I get the impression we’ll be laughed at if we’re on time.” 

Imogen retreated to her room and changed into an outfit that she was sure would out-sheer Dorian. She was going to be freezing, but it would be worth it. There was a lot more eye makeup going on than usual, but she didn’t want to look like a square. She was a square, but she didn’t want to look like one. 

“Just before we go,” Laudna said as they were about to leave, “I know tonight might be a lot for you; large crowd, close quarters. We don’t need to go, and we can leave anytime you want. I need you to promise me that you’ll tell me if you want to leave.” 

“Laudna, I promise,” she said, and she meant it, “but I can also just double dose on the anxiety meds and get Fearne to slip me something; I want you to have a good time!” She was joking, but from the look on Laudna’s face, this appeared to be the wrong thing to say. 

“Imogen,” and no. Oh no. She’d never heard that tone of voice before. It was stern and authoritative and she felt it directly between her legs. It was not the time. “I refuse to let you sabotage your progress for the sake of a concert. You cannot change your dose on a whim, and you will not let Fearne give you unknown and unregulated substances. Do you understand?” 

“I understand.” Oh god her voice was so breathy; she hoped she didn’t sound as turned on as she was. It was one thing to fantasise about it with her hand between her legs, but it felt much more overwhelming with Laudna standing in front of her. What the hell was happening tonight?

“Good. Good girl.” Fuck. Fuck. “Let’s go!” Laudna grabbed her hand and yanked her out the door. 

The cool night air did absolutely nothing to calm her down on their walk to the bar. When they got there, Ashton and Fearne were waiting outside, the music already thumping away behind the door. “About time!” he shouted. “Bembachula is here!”

“I don’t know what that is,” Imogen said. 

“Deni$e Bembachula! She runs this crew out of Kymal. They’re supposed to be in Issylra, but I don’t know what the fuck happened because they’re on the docket tonight; you’ll get to see them, it’s going to be fucking epic!” This may have been the most excited she’d ever seen Ashton. 

“You look hot!” Fearne was saying to Laudna, who grinned back, but she was pulling on her hair a little, so Imogen knew she didn’t really know what to say to that. “I’m glad you went with the pussy T-shirt!” She rubbed Laudna’s shirt (Imogen's shirt) between her fingers, and shot Imogen a very specific look about Laudna wearing it. 

“Yes, thank you, when did you leave it?”

“Let’s get a drink!” Fearne ignored her, and pulled her into the bar by the hand. Laudna looked back to check she was ok, but Imogen waved her off. Laudna should be able to have a fun night without worrying about her the whole time. 

“You look weird.” Ashton narrowed their eyes at her. 

“Thanks, Ash. I was going to say I liked the mohawk, but fuck you, I guess.” 

“You look all flustered. I would say that you got some before you got here, but we both know if that had finally happened you’d never leave the house.”

“Thanks—”

“So what happened, Imogen? Did Laudna kiss you on the cheek and you had a gay panic? Did she put on your shirt and you swore your undying love?”

“One more.“ 

“Did she tell you you were a very good girl?” They snorted at this, and she made a mistake: she avoided their gaze and didn’t reply. Ashton took one look at her face and they knew. “Fuck, actually?” She’d never heard anyone laugh so hard in her entire life. 

“Alright, that’s your time.” She started to walk into the bar. 

“It’s not my fault you can tell you’ve got a praise kink by looking at you,” he hissed in her ear, though he threw a heavy arm around her shoulder. “Sorry,” they said softly, seemed to have realised they had crossed a line. “You alright?” 

“Yeah, fine. A little nervous about the crowd. I think it’ll be alright though.” 

“Grab one of us and we’ll come out here with you. We’ll get a sandwich or something. We’ve got you.” She knocked her head back into their arm in thanks. “I bet it was hot.” Ok, so they weren’t done. “I mean, she’s my sister, practically, and the thought of you and her like that is fucking gross, but for you I bet it was hot.”

“…it was really fucking hot, Ashton.” He laughed as he led her into the venue. It wasn’t massive, but there was a decent, and lively, crowd. 

Laudna was with Fearne near the bar, talking (shouting) to Dorian. He had shown her up again goddamn it. Orym was wallflowering in the corner, eyes on all of them; she gave him a wave. If she knew anything, she knew Chetney would be right at the front, screaming along. Ashton had said FCG was coming but Imogen didn’t see them. 

“Doing alright?” Laudna asked when they approached, and shockingly, she was. This place was so loud and there were so many weirdos that she thought maybe it had crested the peak of bad environment and was on the other side of the hill.

“Good, actually. I’ll keep you in the loop, don’t worry!” Laudna seemed so proud that she was managing that she pushed Ashton’s arm from Imogen’s shoulder and replaced it with her own. 

“Fuck, don’t worry, I’m not encroaching on your territory!”

“As if you could.” Laudna was putting on her haughty voice, but she was smiling. The whole thing made Imogen grin, to which Ashton rolled their eyes. 

“Alright, fuck, I’m done with the pair of you tonight, fucking idiots.” It was said with whatever passed for affection from them. 

Fearne leaned forward and clutched a hand from both of them. “I’m not! Dance with me? Or jump around, that seems to be the order of business.” Being fine in the room and being fine in the midst of it were different things. 

“You two go ahead, I’m going to get a drink.” She nodded at Laudna’s questioning raised eyebrow and watched as she was pulled into the middle of the crowd. Imogen ordered a water from bar and went to join Orym on the fringes. Conversation was difficult under the speakers, but they managed to have a brief, shouted catch-up. Then, “How are you doing with seeing Dorian’s abs out all the time?” she yelled in his ear. 

“Coping. How are you doing seeing Laudna in your clothes?”

“Coping! Just.” He smiled up at her. She returned it, but her gaze was pulled back to the dance floor. Back to Laudna. 

She was in the fray with Fearne, swaying along to a deeply angry song as if it was a sonata. She was out of step with everyone around her. Imogen loved her endlessly. 

She felt Orym slip his hand into hers, and tilted her head questioningly at him. “You seem happy, Imogen.” The band was winding down, and she could hear him at a regular volume. 

“I am,” she smiled. “Are you? Happy?” 

“I try to be. I am a lot of the time. You guys make me happy.” His returning smile was melancholy. “It’s hard, I think, to try, to let yourself be happy, choose to be happy, when you’ve had a loss like mine, or have come from a life where everything conspired against it, like Ashton, or you and Laudna. I’m glad you found each other. And I’m glad I found you guys; I’m still lonely a lot of the time, but it’s nothing compared to after I lost Will. I’ve got Fearne, and Dorian, and I don’t know if anything will happen there, if I’m ready, but the fact that I’m even considering it…” 

“It’s a big deal.”

“It’s a big deal,” he nodded in agreement. 

“I’m happy for you, Orym.” Laudna was waving at her from the crowd, and Imogen returned it just as enthusiastically as the next act started up. They were loud and ferocious, and the woman at the microphone was terrifying; Imogen knew instantly never to cross her. 

“Holy shit,” she heard Orym mutter. 

“What?” 

“Is that Dariax?” He was pointing at the stage, to a short red headed guy bouncing around the stage with a recorder, looking like he was having the time of his life. He looked as out of place with the band as Laudna did dancing in the crowd. 

“Crown Keepers groupie Dariax?” 

“Yeah!” Orym was right, she definitely recognised him. 

“Small world, I guess.” She could see Ashton and Fearne screaming next to Laudna, and realised this must be the act they were waiting for. She finally spotted FCG, perched on Ashton’s shoulders, wheelchair abandoned. “Orym? Do you want to go dance with our friends?” She could do it. With her friends, and with Laudna, she could do it. 

He grinned, and pulled her hand. “Let's go.” 

They left a few hours later either drunk (Laudna) or slightly tipsy (Imogen), ears ringing and feet sore. 

“Hope you’ve had a smiley day!” Letters called out after them as they walked towards home. “I’ll see you at therapy, Imogen!” They worked as a receptionist at Jirana’s while getting their own counselling qualification; they hadn’t quite mastered confidentially yet. 

Laudna tangled their fingers together and led them home at a leisurely pace. “You did magnificently tonight,” she said in a low, rough voice. 

“I couldn’t have done anything without you, Laudna,” she replied. Laudna started absently running her thumb over the back of Imogen’s hand. 

“Nonsense, you’re very capable.” This made her roll her eyes fondly. 

“Maybe, but only because I know you’re there to catch me.” 

“Imogen—”

“No, Laudna.” It was suddenly very important to her that Laudna understand. “Anything I’ve managed to do at all in the past two and a half years has only been possible because you’ve been here helping me and supporting me. There was a point back in Gelvaan when I didn’t know how much longer I would last.” Laudna’s hand tightened in hers. “And I almost did something about it. But there was a part of me, a small, hidden part, that was pushing me to just leave. To just get up and run. I think that part of me knew that you were here, knew that you were waiting for me.” She suddenly worried that she’d said too much, but Laudna had stopped walking and was looking at her with an expression of such wonder that even if she had, she knew it was worth it. “You’re my tether, Laudna.”

“Do you mean that?” 

“Of course I do.” Imogen tucked a dark strand of hair behind Laudna’s ear, and rested her hand along her cheek. “You saved me.” 

“Imogen—” she stopped and took a deep breath. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. I was rattling around in that house all by myself. I thought that I’d be alone for the rest of my life, and I’d accepted that. And then I met you, and you made our house a home, you filled it with love. You brought all these people to us, other people who love us. You have quite literally brought me back to life.” 

For just a moment, just a millisecond, Imogen thought she saw Laudna’s gaze flick down to her mouth. Then there were cool lips against her forehead and her hand was being grasped for dear life. “You are a miracle,” Laudna murmured against her skin. She pulled gently on her hand and she took Imogen home. 

5.

“How’s it going in there?” Laudna called from the living room. Imogen looked down at the absolute mess in front of her. 

“Uh, do you want the very burnt bit, or the moderately burnt bit?” she shouted back. There was a pause. 

“Very burnt, please, practically incinerated.”

“Don’t be a martyr, Laudna!” She decided to divide the level of disaster evenly between them. 

“Very egalitarian,” she said as Imogen handed her the plate. 

“Laudna, don’t be nice to me. You feed me like a damn queen and I can’t even cook pizza.” She threw herself somewhat petulantly down on the sofa next to her. 

“Well I’ve had a lot of practice,” she said, purposefully eating one of the charred ends, because she was an angel. 

“Yeah, I get it, you’re experienced and mature and it’s very hot, alright.” She didn’t mean to say that last part. Fuck. 

“I think it’s cooled down enough to eat, actually,” she was looking at her pizza and god bless her obliviousness. 

“What have we got tonight?” Imogen changed the subject. 

“Misunderstandings, class angst, sexual tension you can cut with a knife, impertinent relatives, dances, books as a love language.” Laudna reels off. She’d been showing Imogen all of her favourite period dramas. There were a lot of them. Imogen was having the time of her life. 

“Alright, hit it.” 

When the pizza was gone, and the subsequent ice cream, and Imogen was resting her head on Laudna’s shoulder, she said, “I like this one.”

“I thought you might.” Imogen could feel Laudna’s smile against the top of her head. “It’s not becoming too much?” At this she sounded a little nervous. 

“Not at all, I love them. I love doing this with you. I love sharing the things that you love.” Laudna did some sort of strange pleased wiggle at this. “It makes sense that the stuff you love is so nice. You’ve got a big heart.” 

“Oh.”

“And you know I’ve seen your romance novel collection, Laudna. Only about half of those are smutty, from what I can tell.”

“Imogen, have you been rummaging in my dirty books? Scandalous!” There was a gentle tug on her hair. 

“You love all of this stuff. You’re a romantic.” Imogen felt like she was starting to play with fire. 

“Oh. I suppose I am.” It sounded like she hadn’t really thought about it. 

“Is that—” oh god, she was her own worst enemy. She was about to break her own heart before Laudna got the chance. “Is that something that you’re interested in? You know, the big romantic love story?” She didn’t know whether it was a good thing or a bad thing that she wasn’t looking at Laudna right now. She didn’t answer immediately, and every second of the wait felt interminable.

“I’m not going to say no,” she said finally, quietly and unsure. “I mean, there’s nothing in me that is opposed to romantic love, and I’m quite sure that it’s something I can feel.” She thought it might have been better for her heart not to know that. “I suppose it’s just not something I’ve had to think about. I haven’t accessed that part of my brain in decades.” The thought of it made Imogen ache for her; someone as passionate and caring as Laudna, someone so invested in romance, locking away that part of themselves, feeding it morsels with stories about other people falling in love. 

“From what you’ve said it would be strange, I think, to access that,” she said softly. Imogen desperately wanted to look at her, but she kept her eyes on the screen, where the credits were rolling. 

“Mmm” Laudna agreed. “It’s just not on the cards for me, I think.”

“What do you mean?” Imogen knew. She did. But she needed to hear Laudna say it so she could refute it. Every part of her body was tense; this entire conversation was a landmine. 

“Imogen, I’m under no illusion as to my desirability. The grand love story typically requires the participation of at least one other person.”

“Laudna—” 

“It would be a struggle, I think, for someone to fall in love like that.” With her is what she means. 

“Laudna, I think falling in love with you would be as easy as breathing.” The fact that she managed to state it as a hypothetical was a damn miracle when it’s exactly what happened to her; maybe she did have some self preservation buried underneath everything. Now was not the time for her to make bold declarations. 

Launda made no response to this, but Imogen saw her lift her hand to wipe the tears from her eyes. There was no nervous fidgeting, or pulling of her hair; Laudna had gone very, very still, and Imogen thought that maybe she had crossed a line she didn’t know was there. “Do you want to watch another episode? I can make some tea.” Imogen Temult, you fucking coward. 

“I’m feeling quite tired, actually,” Laudna said, unconvincingly. “I think I’m just going to go to bed, if that’s alright?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, whatever you want.” If Laudna needed to leave and be by herself then Imogen would respect that. Imogen didn’t know if she’d revealed herself or if it was just the topic that had upset her. She desperately hoped that Laudna was alright. 

She cleaned up and straightened the living room, then went to bed. Two hours later she was still lying awake. She couldn’t get the image of Laudna crying and fleeing out of her head. 

Fuck it. She threw back the covers and crossed to Laudna’s bedroom. There was still light glowing under the door, so she knocked softly. “Laudna?”

“You can come in, Imogen.” She sounded tired, and very far away. Imogen pushed the door open gently and saw Laudna sitting on the bed, knees pulled up to her chest with a book open on top. She was wearing an old purple T-shirt that was definitely Imogen’s, who ignored the fond clenching in her chest. She didn’t look much further through the book than she had been yesterday, so Imogen doubted that much reading had been done. She couldn’t tell if Laudna had been crying, she didn’t look like it, but she did look weary, as if heaviness had settled into her bones and was refusing to leave. 

“Hey, I just wanted to check if you were alright?” Laudna gave a deep sigh and beckoned her over. She clambered onto the bed next to her and lay down on her side. Laudna put her book down and slid down to face her. “I’m really sorry if my questions or the things that I said made you uncomfortable, or upset you.”

“You haven’t upset me.” Imogen could tell that she meant it, but that she was upset by something. “It’s hard sometimes,” she started, then paused to gather herself. Imogen placed her fingertips tentatively on the back of her hand, and was desperately relieved when Laudna turned it over to hold. “It’s hard. I have a certain… perception of myself. Or a perception of how others see me, of how the world sees me. And that has been influenced by the life I have lived, and the things that have happened to me, the way people have treated me.” Imogen could tell she was choosing her words very carefully, choosing to be vague when they both knew the kinds of things she was referencing. “Your perception of me is different, and that can create a—” Imogen had never seen her struggle with her words like this; she squeezed her hand in reassurance. “A dissonance, I suppose.” 

“Like, the things I say and the things you feel don’t line up?” 

“Exactly. And the things that you say are so beautiful, so special. Sometimes it doesn’t quite feel real.” She looked like she might cry again, which was not what Imogen had intended by coming in here. “That’s not to say I don’t believe you, or that I don’t believe that you believe it,” she said quickly, as if she’d worried Imogen would take offence. 

“No, I know,” she reassured softly. 

“Sometimes you just tilt the axis of my world a bit,” Imogen wasn’t going to read into it at all, but that’s what it felt like to her, loving Laudna; like a shift in her axis. “And it’s wonderful. You’re wonderful. Sometimes it just takes me a moment to regain my balance.” Her smile was slow and soft and it made Imogen’s heart turn over in her chest. 

“Laudna, can I hug you?” This prompted a startled laugh.

“You don’t have to ask, you can always hug me,” she said, and opened her arms. Imogen tucked her head under Laudna’s chin and wrapped an arm around her waist, felt Laudna’s arms wrap around her and a delicate hand slide into her hair. 

Imogen fell asleep contentedly with her head over Laudna’s heart. 

6.

“FCG, did I see you chain smoking with Prism outside of the Starpoint library? What the fuck is up with that?” Orym’s voice was incredulous, but they were fairly far into their night at the Spire by Fire, so everything was a little softer; Imogen was approaching her three drink line. 

“Yeah! She’s teaching me!” Letters didn’t seem to think that it was a bad thing the way the rest of them did. “She said if I’m going to be a student I should pick up the habits. I think it makes me look cool!” Bless them, they sounded so excited. Imogen doubted it made them look cool; they were probably the only one at this table less cool than she was, and that included Chetney. 

“That’s not a great habit to have, Letters,” Orym said softly. 

“Oh don’t worry, I don’t inhale. I mainly just like to hold them and pout!” Definitely not cool. 

“Alright, full table rollies,” Ashton demanded. This game seemed to be the only time where they gave a shit about order. Imogen picked up her dice and crossed her fingers; she was a perpetually low roller and her so-called friends enjoyed fucking her over. Fearne had escaped to the bathroom to avoid answering her question; she wanted to know everything about all of them and never reveal anything about herself. Imogen didn’t think she had the social capital to do the same. 

She rolled. One. Fuck. 

“Look!” FCG sounded so excited and her heart sank. “I rolled a twenty!” 

“Imogen…” Ashton’s voice was very, very excited. 

“Yeah I know.” This was going to hurt. FCG looked around the room and took a minute to think. 

“Imogen, you’re a nice, smart, beautiful woman,” they started. 

“Uh, thanks?” Laudna put her hand on Imogen’s knee under the table as a placeholder for laughter. 

“You’ve got a lot to offer, and from some of the things I’ve heard you say, it sounds like you’re pretty horny!” Dorian choked on his drink at this blunt statement and Imogen felt her stomach tighten in apprehension. “There’s a very pretty girl at the bar who has been trying to catch your eye all night, and I know that you noticed.” She had noticed, she just never gave that kind of thing any consideration. “And it happens at a lot of the places we go. I think you want a girlfriend and you definitely want to have sex, but you never talk to any of the women who’re interested. What the fuck is up with that?” This was a nightmare. Letters looked so pleased with themselves for noticing that someone was checking her out, but all Imogen could feel was a tingling at her fingertips. That was never a good sign. 

“Uh,” and she had no idea how to even start that sentence, let alone finish it. Laudna’s nails were digging into her thigh and Imogen could tell from the pressure that she didn’t even know she was doing it. She could also tell that she was on the verge of a catastrophe, because those nails on her skin would have driven her mad in any other circumstance. Everything around her felt very far away.   

The others were all staring wide eyed at each other or her, and she realised that they were coming to the same conclusion that she was: that there was another person at this table who did not know about her feelings for Laudna, and none of them had known. Laudna was looking at her, head tilted to the side, with an unreadable expression. 

She had tried to do something about it, back at the beginning, when she had realised what her feelings meant; that the way she loved Laudna was different to the way Laudna loved her. She had tried to move on, to get over her by getting under someone else, at the suggestion of Ashton and Fearne. 

There had been a woman at a bar who had talked to her kindly and said all the right things. She had looked a bit like Laudna; older, dark hair, willowy, but not enough that going home with her was weird (a lie). The woman had kissed her once and Imogen had burst into tears; it had felt so much like she was cheating on Laudna. 

She hadn't tried again. 

“Ooh, there’s a weird energy here, what did I miss?” Fearne was gleeful as she slid back into her seat and opened her handbag. 

“I was just wondering why Imogen isn’t getting out there and falling in love!”

“Please,” she said absently, rummaging in her bag, “everyone knows Imogen’s heart is spoken for.” What? Imogen wasn’t sure what was happening to her body, but she thought maybe her soul had evacuated the premises. This must be a nightmare. 

Fearne continued to search her things, but seemed to realise what she had said, and who she had said it in front of; her entire body froze. Imogen had never seen anyone look more like a deer in the headlights. She didn’t even look like she was breathing. It would have been better if she’d breezily carried on, talked her way out of it, acted like herself. But the panic seemed to be catching and Fearne turned to her, eyes like saucers. She looked terrified at what she had done. 

“What do you mean?” Laudna’s voice was quiet, and she sounded confused. Her hand wasn’t on Imogen’s leg anymore. Neither she or Fearne could answer, could only stare at each other. 

“Come on, Laudna, don’t be obtuse,” Ashton said in a low, mocking growl and oh god was she about to be thrown under the bus? Was this actually how it happened? “If Imogen is ever going to get a girlfriend, let alone get laid, she needs to learn to talk to someone that isn’t a fucking horse.” Oh, a rescue attempt. From the least persuasive and convincing person that she knew. It was a stupid argument to make but he was committing to it. Laudna was still frowning. Imogen grabbed Ashton’s hand under the table. “Can’t fall in love if your heart is back in a no-name town locked in a field. Honestly, it’s pretty fucking pathetic.”

“If it’s the talking that’s the problem,” Fearne seemed to have found her voice, “Imogen, just up the cleavage. It always works for me.” 

“She’s not exactly working with the same assets,” was Chetney’s contribution. She would take this. She would take every degrading, condescending life raft they would throw her. 

“I think you guys are being a bit harsh,” Orym contributed. “Imogen is very charming.” 

“She is!” Dorian’s voice was far too upbeat. “She can just be a little intimidating to approach!” She felt guilty that all of their friends were lying to Laudna to save her, but it was swallowed up by the relief. 

“Maybe I’m just not interested in getting picked up in a bar, alright?” Her tone should have been more combative than it was; it came out very flat. She still had a death grip on Ashton’s hand. “Speaking of, I’m going to get another drink. You guys carry on.” It was rude of her to go without asking if anyone wanted anything, but she had to leave this table. 

“Me too,” she heard Fearne say quickly behind her, felt her following to the bar. “Imogen…” she sounded so much like a scared little girl that Imogen couldn’t even be angry. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean— I forgot that she was there.” A truly absurd idea; Laudna was the centre of any space Imogen was in. “Well, not that she was there, just that we don’t talk about it in front of her. It just is, like flowers blooming and rain falling, I forgot that she didn’t know, I wasn’t paying attention, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright, Fearne.” It wasn’t remotely alright, and she was nowhere near. But it was an accident. 

“Imogen—”

“I’m not mad, ok? I just need a second to calm down.” 

“Ok. Can I touch you? Would that make it better?” She was being so genuine. “I think that would make me feel better.” 

“Sure, Fearne.” A warm hand was slipped into hers. “I don’t think she bought the horse stuff.”

“No. They meant well, but lying isn’t really Ashton’s strong suit.”

“He should leave it to the professionals?” She was starting to feel more like herself again. 

“Oh, you and I could have spun an excellent tale if we’d gotten over the shock first,” Fearne assured her. She was still clinging to Imogen’s hand. 

“What’s Laudna doing?” She couldn’t look without a warning, didn’t want to see if Laudna had understood, didn’t want to see the look on her face if she had. 

“She’s just looking over at us with a very serious and confused expression,” Fearne said, and waved with her free hand. “Uh oh, her wave back was very stilted, Imogen, what do I do?” 

“Just be normal, Fearne. This is all normal.” She collected their drinks, and the one she had automatically ordered for Laudna, and walked back to the table with a smile. Laudna’s didn’t reach her eyes when she offered one back. “Hey, you ok?” Please be ok. 

“Of course!” she said, and Imogen knew she was lying. 

7.

Fearne called her when she was walking home from work. “Imogen! How’s my favourite friend?”

“What do you want, Fearne?” she replied with a smile. Favourite friend meant a favour. 

“Can’t a girl just call to chat?”

“You have at least 2 friends higher up the list,” she teased. 

“You and Laudna are frequently my favourite, and I know you know that; you’re my witchy bitches!” After the past two weeks it was heartening to hear them effortlessly described as a single Imogen-and-Laudna entity. Things had been great, for the most part, and normal, but she kept catching Laudna looking at her with an expression she didn’t understand at all. “Are you free tonight?”

“Don’t you have a date with Deanna?” Imogen knew she had a date with Deanna, because tonight was Chetney’s fancy dinner. Laudna was very excited. 

“I know that you’re free tonight, because Laudna is busy.”

“I have other friends, Fearne.”

“Ok, Imogen.” She was being directly laughed at. “Deanna’s sick, want to go on a date?”

“What kind of date?” she asked, opening the front door. 

“The Corsairs are opening a cocktail bar slash speakeasy in the Lucent Spire that I’m only 80 percent sure is a front. I won’t tell you how I got an invite, but it’s going to be beautiful.” 

“Fearne, I don’t think I own anything that is Lucent Spire appropriate,” Imogen said as she spotted Laudna in the living room. She waved, and indicated that she was on the phone, and would be back. 

“Wear those little shorts and the floaty dress; people will be so distracted by your legs that they won’t notice.” Kind of a backhanded compliment. “Please Imogen? My treat!” 

“Yeah, fine, whatever.” It would beat a night at home without Laudna. 

“This is amazing. I’ll pick you up at 8!” She immediately hung up before Imogen could change her mind. She abandoned her phone and keys on the sideboard and went back to the living room. Laudna was leaving pretty soon, and she wanted some time with her. Imogen wanted to be with her constantly. 

She was sitting in the chair, gazing out of the window, twisting the ring that Imogen had gotten her for Winter’s Crest around her finger.

(“Are you fucking joking?” Ashton had said when he’d seen it, and had taken a shot. “A ring? That’s not even funny, Imogen, that’s just fucking sad.”)

She’d already done her hair, some sort of fancy up-do that Imogen would never be able to recreate. “Your hair looks amazing,” Imogen said, sitting on the sofa across from her. 

“Thank you, Imogen,” she said, smiling softly. 

“Is Chetney picking you up?”

“Soon, I just wanted to see you before I left.” Imogen felt like she was glowing. 

“Anything I can do to help?”

“Not yet, maybe in a bit.” She had that look on her face again; Imogen desperately wanted to understand. “Are you going out with Fearne tonight?”

“Yeah. Figured it’d distract me from waiting for you to get home,” she grinned. “Deanna’s thrown her over, so she’s upgrading.” Imogen joked with a dramatic hair toss. She didn’t get the laugh she expected, but there was a smile, and she’d take that. 

“Well, I hope you have fun.” 

“Thanks, you too. Let me know when you’re heading home so I can come back. I want to hear all about it!” Laudna nodded at her and stood. 

“I need to finish getting ready, I’ll call if I need anything.” She smiled and swept up the stairs. Something was definitely wrong. 

She’d showered and started warming the dinner Laudna had made for her when she was called upstairs. Laudna was in her room, with her back to Imogen. “Would you zip me up, please?” If Imogen didn’t know better she’d say she sounded nervous.  

“Of course.” Imogen placed a hand on her lower back and zipped the dress up with the other. It was a deep maroon, almost black, with a fitted bodice and long, sheer sleeves decorated with vines and leaves in a dark lace. The skirt fell from a cinched waist to the floor with the same detailing. If not for the colour it could have been a wedding dress (not that Imogen had ever thought about Laudna in a wedding dress). She looked magnificent. 

“Thank you, darling,” she said with a wobbly smile and turned to sit in her reading chair. 

“Laudna…” she started. Something was wrong. “Is there something you wanted to talk about?” She shook her head sharply and didn’t say anything. Imogen sank to her knees in front of her. “You can tell me absolutely anything, Laudna. I promise.” There was still no response. She wouldn’t even look at her. 

Imogen ducked her head and lifted Laudna’s chin with her finger until she was looking into her eyes. “Are you nervous?” she said in a low voice. 

“What?” she said on an exhalation, like she was surprised Imogen had asked. She looked like she was drowning. 

“About the dinner. Are you nervous? It’s a little new for you.” Maybe that was all it was (she knew that wasn’t all it was). 

“A bit, yes.” Laudna looked like she’d been thrown a lifeline. “Not my usual. I wish you were coming. Everything is easier when you’re there.” 

“Yeah, me too. But Chetney will look after you, or he’ll lose his head,” she said with a cocky raised eyebrow, which made Laudna laugh. It was the best sound she had ever heard. She was finally smiling when the doorbell rang. “That’ll be him.” Imogen stood and offered her hands to Laudna to pull her up. For a second she was worried she wouldn’t take them, but cool hands slid into hers gently and Imogen pulled her to her feet so they were standing face to face. Laudna was looking for something in Imogen’s eyes, she could tell, she just didn’t know what it was. She wished that she could peer into Laudna’s head, read her thoughts, just so she could give her what she wanted. But Laudna needed to talk to her.

Imogen led her down the stairs and opened the door. Chetney was standing on the doorstep in a velvet tuxedo that would have been in style fifty years ago, with a bunch of flowers. It was the first time Imogen had seen him without a hat on him somewhere. “Here,” he said, and thrust the flowers at Laudna, who looked just as surprised as she was. “Well? Stop dilly dallying! We’ll miss the best bits,” and he held his arm out for her. He was much too short for it to be anything other than awkward, but she took it graciously.  

“Hands above the waist, Chet,” Imogen said wryly.

“I’m a gentleman! Isn’t that right, Laudna?” he looked up at her with a smile, which seemed to relax her.

“I certainly hope so.”

“Brick. Window.” she said pointedly. 

“I’ll have her home before I turn back into a wolf,” he said with a wink.

“I’m pretty sure it’s a mouse. Or maybe a pumpkin.”

“Imogen! With this energy?” He did something with his teeth that she hoped she never had to see again. 

“Bye Laudna, have a nice night. Call if you need anything?” She nodded at this and let Chetney lead her away. They really needed to talk.

She had enough time to stress about it while she got herself ready. She decided to follow Fearne’s outfit suggestion, because as much as it was a pointed comment about her wardrobe, Fearne always looked fantastic, and knew much more about it than Imogen. She made sure her hair was falling in soft waves down her back. 

She peaked into Laudna’s room surreptitiously, and dropped in a few treats for Pâté, stroking his patchy little head. “Has she told you what's wrong?” she asked, but all he did was nibble on her finger. She wouldn’t go prying into Laudna’s things, but a glance around her room showed nothing out of the ordinary; her current and next book on the bedside table next to a picture of her and Imogen, bed tidily made, tomorrow’s outfit hanging on the wardrobe. She started to feel like she was intruding, so she left, closing the door behind her. 

When Fearne finally showed up, only ten minutes late (a record!), Imogen was practically climbing the walls. Fearne took one look at her and dragged her out the front door. She rambled about her day as they headed to the cable car, Imogen interjecting here and there, but she felt like her brain was a little fuzzy. 

Fearne made a cooing noise when she inevitably shook the cable car, and there was so much innocent chaos in the tone that Imogen let out a breathy chuckle, even as she covered her eyes and held on for dear life. 

Fearne took her arm once they were in the Lucent Spire and led her to a swanky basement bar, where she flirted outrageously with the bouncer and led Imogen to a high table in the back. Imogen watched the waiters flit about the room, and kept her eyes on the barmen. There were a few other staff members dotted around the sides, and some familiar faces at some of the tables. They were only familiar through association with Ashton and Fearne. Oh, this was definitely a front. 

“I’m so glad you’ve brought me to the launch of a criminal enterprise for our fake first date,” she said, letting Fearne choose her a cocktail. It wasn’t quite as fun as when Laudna did it, but she didn’t trust Fearne as far as she could throw her with intoxicating substances, so she knew it was going to be interesting. 

“Who said it was fake?” Fearne gave her an exaggerated wink and shimmied her chest, which made Imogen laugh hard enough to pull her out of her downward spiral. 

“Well I hate to be a downer, as you so lovingly called me, but I don’t want to give you the wrong impression,” she said teasingly, turning up the intensity of her accent. It was always fun to flirt a little with her; Fearne gave much more than she got and the stakes were non-existent. Sometimes she needed a breather from swearing her undying devotion to Laudna, but only for a second. “If I see that hand come near my chest to either cop a feel or steal my necklace, my drink will be going down your cleavage.”

“Promise?” she said, sticking her tongue coyly between her teeth. A tall, handsome waiter brought their drinks over and Fearne batted her eyelashes until he blushed. Imogen took a sip of her drink and almost choked. 

“Fuck, how much rum is in this?”

“Enough that if you’re sticking to the three drink line you may be on mocktails for the rest of the night?”

“Well you certainly know how to show a girl a good time,” she said, and resolved to nurse it. 

“That’s what I’m told.” Fearne’s drink looked even stronger than hers, but she didn’t even blink. “Maybe I’m your new sugar mama.”

“Laudna’s not my sugar mama, Fearne. I pay rent.” 

“I know what you pay, Imogen, and I know Jrusar prices. What you pay doesn’t even cover the water bill, and it definitely doesn’t keep you in hair dye, which I know Laudna also takes care of.”

“We switched to this new one and it’s so much better, look at how full and soft it is!” She shook out her hair. 

“It so, so gorgeous, infinitely tugable.” This made her blush a little. “How is Laudna? Looking forward to her night out with Chet?”

“I think so. She seemed pretty nervous before she went.” Imogen had put her phone face up on the table so she could see if Laudna texted. Nothing yet. She kept tapping it to see if she had missed anything, which she hadn’t, but it did mean she got to see Laudna’s smile beaming up at her. She must have looked antsy, because Fearne hadn’t even made a comment about this absolute clownery. 

“Have things been alright since my little fuckup?” Fearne had been less playful with her for the last fortnight, clearly mortified that she’d almost ruined Imogen’s life. 

“Yeah, they’ve been good,” she said slowly, and could tell from the raised eyebrow she was given in response that she wasn’t convincing. “Sometimes it’s been a little weird?” she confessed. “I don’t know if she knows what’s going on, if she knows what you meant, or if she can just tell that there is something that the rest of us know that she doesn’t, but she’s been withdrawn, I guess, sometimes. There have been times when she’s been looking at me, and I don’t know what she’s looking for, what she wants to see. But she won’t tell me what's bothering her.” That was what confused her the most; she and Laudna talked about everything. The denials and brushoffs were so far from normal that she was worried.

“Do you want me to talk to her?” 

“I mean, I’m not going to tell you not to, if she wants to talk to you about it then that’s great. I just want her to be ok, and to tell me if she's not. For all I know she’s put it together and is trying to figure out how to evict me,” she joked.

“Imogen, she’s not going to kick you out, even if she does know.”

“Yeah, I know that, Fearne.” And she did. For all of her panic about Laudna finding out about her feelings, she knew that if she ever did, the worst that would happen would be a kind, gentle letdown full of intensely overblown praises about her appearance and her intelligence and her character, and things would stay the same. 

“Have you thought about telling her?” Imogen guessed that they were talking about everything then, discussing all of the things that were usually taken as read. She couldn’t stop the sigh from escaping. 

“That’s not going to change anything, it’s just going to make whatever is going on with her more complicated. She doesn’t need that right now.” 

“She could tell you that she loves you too,” she said with a shrug.

“She does love me, Fearne. I know she loves me.” 

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know what you meant.” She didn’t mean for it to come out so snappish, but she was starting to feel a little bit cornered. She was never her best when she was backed into a corner. 

“Are you scared of it? That she might want the same thing as you?” Fearne was meeting her terseness with the same airy, lackadaisical tone in which she said everything, but Imogen could see the fire in her eyes, the passion. She knew not to underestimate her; Fearne was very, very good at getting people to do what she wanted. 

“I’ve never been scared of her. Not once.” 

“But maybe then you’d know for sure, and you could move on, or you could be happy together!”

“I don’t want to move on!” Thankfully it didn’t come out as a shout in this very crowded bar, full of very rich, powerful people. The rasping rebuke was much more appropriate. Fearne didn’t even flinch. “I’m happy! And I want to be very clear here, Fearne. My friendship with Laudna is not a consolation prize, it is the most important thing in the world to me. Maybe there are some things that I would like to approach from a different angle, but our relationship isn’t lesser because we don’t. Laudna is my world, whether she wants to kiss me or not, whether the way she loves me is romantic or not, it doesn’t change anything. This is not a story where the grand romantic declaration saves the day; there is no day to be saved. This is my life, mine and Laudna’s life, our life together. It’s sacred.” She took a deep breath, tried to get it back under control. Fearne reached across the table and took her hand. 

“I didn’t mean to imply that it wasn’t. I think what you have together is beautiful, Imogen. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before.” She was uncharacteristically serious. “Can I just say one thing? Just one thing about it, and then I won’t talk about it again unless you ask.” 

“Sure,” she steeled herself and took a long drink of her incredibly strong cocktail. It burned on the way down. 

“I think she’s in love with you too.” Imogen started to refute, but “wait, just hear me out.” She pushed her anger back down and nodded at her to continue. “You and I both know the kind of life Laudna has had.” Imogen knew that Laudna had talked to Fearne about it, that Fearne knew pretty much everything. She had been so kind about it, had treated Laudna so gently, that it was the first time that Imogen had realised that she loved Fearne, that she’d made friends who were close enough to love. “We can show her as much love as we want, and we can tell her how awesome she is until the cows come home, but she never really believes it.” Imogen thought about Laudna telling her about the cognitive dissonance, about Imogen’s words knocking her off kilter, and she knew that Fearne was right. “The way she looks at you, Imogen, I’ve never seen anyone look like that. Apart from when you look at her. I think she feels every single one of those feelings for you, I just don’t think she knows what it means, that those feelings aren’t really what you feel for your best friend, even if she is your soulmate.”

“She said that—'' Imogen didn’t know if she was betraying Laudna’s confidence in what she was about to say, but what if Fearne was right? “She said that she isn’t aromantic, that she knows she feels those feelings, just that she’s had to tuck them away for so long she didn’t know if she could access them.” Fearne waved her hand as if this confirmed her point. “She said she didn’t think anyone could fall in love with her.”

“Well we both know that’s bullshit,” she said vehemently, prompting a weak laugh from Imogen. “If I didn’t think it would break your heart, I wouldn’t say no.”

“Get in line,” she managed to joke. 

“That goes for you too,” she added, with a sly smile that Imogen knew had driven stronger people to do dramatic things to win her favour. “We may be family, Imogen, but I wouldn’t mind getting a little incestuous.” She did her little shoulder shimmy again, but she was grimacing slightly at her own words, which made Imogen laugh. The way Fearne lit up told her that had been the goal. 

“I’ll keep it in mind, but I can’t say it’d be any fun for either of us.” 

“Really? There’s absolutely nothing if it’s not her?”

“Nothing at all. It’s like the day I met her she cast a spell on me. It’s insane.” Fearne looked like she thought this was fascinating. 

“How do you cope?”

“I’ve got a very active imagination and a serious RSI.” 

“Oh, I bet.” Fearne was still holding her hand. She seemed to take the lightening of the mood as permission that she could keep talking about it, which she supposed it was. “Laudna’s self worth is on the floor. If she doesn’t think that anyone could ever fall in love with her, which, again, is nonsense, she’s never going to believe that you could fall in love with her.”

Imogen started to make the argument that she was the most likely person to fall in love with her, because she already loved her so much, saw every beautiful part of her, but Fearne interrupted. “Yeah, I know that, and you know that, but Laudna thinks you hung Catha and Ruidus in the sky just for her. I’ve heard her call you a miracle. She doesn’t think she’s good enough for you, so she’s not even thinking of it as an option. And it’s all subconscious! She doesn’t even know she’s doing it!”

“This is all just your opinion, Fearne.”

“It’s a good opinion, though.” This made her smile.

“It’s a lovely opinion. I’ll think about it, ok?” As if she didn’t think about it every damn day. 

Fearne walked Imogen home after she got a text from Laudna saying the dinner was finished. It was a testament to the seriousness of their conversation that she didn’t even shake the cable car. Or it might have been that Fearne had had three more drinks that were practically straight rum. It was probably that. 

The house was dark when she opened the door, Fearne behind her, but Imogen could tell from the shadows that Laudna was home, that she was in the living room. “Laudna?” She called out, and turned on the light; Fearne jumped at the sight of her, but Imogen had known she was there. She was in the same chair as earlier, and was looking directly at them. She was still in her dress, but she’d taken the pins from her hair; it was spilling in dark waves over her shoulders, the prominent shock of white at the front. 

“Fuck, you look like a sexy vampire,” Fearne clutched at her chest. This startled a laugh from Laudna, who looked like she hadn’t expected it. She was holding herself very still, none of her usual frantic exuberance, and it was setting off alarm bells in Imogen’s head. 

“How was your dinner, honey?” Imogen moved into the room to sit, but Fearne stayed by the door, looking between them with wide eyes. Maybe she could see the thing that Imogen couldn’t. 

“It was lovely. You needn’t worry, Chetney was a perfect gentleman. Gave me quite a bit of credit, actually, for the inlay.” She looked proud of herself, and it was such a rarity that it made Imogen want to cry. “The Association seemed to have liked it.”

“Yeah, he’s a big old softie under all of the bluster,” Fearne grinned. She would know. 

“I bet you knocked them dead,” Imogen said, with so much naked admiration in her voice that it was obscene. Laudna gave her a wide, warm smile, and Imogen realised when she saw it that it hadn’t been there, not at full power, for days. 

“Did you keep your pretty dress on just for me, Laudna?” Fearne asked with a flirtatious smile. “I’m very glad you did.”

“Oh,” she looked down at herself. “No, actually. I may head back out again in a bit.” What? Where would she even be going? Fearne tilted her head. 

“I’m heading home,” she said pointedly, “I’ll leave you to the rest of your evening together.” She crossed to Imogen and kissed her on the cheek; it was a lot closer to her mouth than it usually was. “Thank you for being the hottest date in Marquet. I’d say Exandria, but I’ve yet to grace Issylra with my presence, and I don’t know what they’re working with.” This gained her a fond eye roll. 

Fearne moved over, leaned down and wrapped her arms around Laudna. It was much too tight and long lived for a standard goodbye hug; she looked like she was trying to squeeze the sadness out of her, or gift her with something. She leaned back and looked her in the eye. “You’ve nothing to worry about, Laudna. I promise.” Imogen wished that people would start making sense again. Fearne looked between them, gave a big sigh, and showed herself out. 

Imogen didn’t want to upset her again, so she didn’t immediately ask what was wrong. Laudna didn’t volunteer anything, so they ended up staring at each other in silence. Imogen took her in; the dark dress, the long hair, the look of terrified confusion. It broke her heart. 

“Where are you going?” Imogen asked, and it came out low and rough. 

“Well you’re here now,” she replied quietly, “it might be nicer to stay in, I think.” 

“Alright. I’m going to make some tea before bed, if you want some?” Imogen felt like she was placating a scared animal. 

“Yes, please.” She stood and walked to the kitchen, filling and turning on the kettle before lifting herself to sit on the kitchen table. When she looked up, Laudna was at the door, watching her. 

Imogen didn’t know what she had done, or what had happened, but she realised that this had an element of familiarity to it. It felt a little like it had at the beginning, when she had first moved in, of Laudna being skittish, worried that she was in the way, or that Imogen was going to hurt her. It had only lasted a few days, but this hesitancy, this distance, it meant that Laudna was unsure of her. Laudna hadn’t been unsure of her for two and a half years. 

“How was your date?” she asked, and Imogen gave a quick laugh. 

“Good. I’ve definitely helped some shady people launder a bunch of money by being there, but it was a nice place. I’ll take you, if you want to go?” Laudna would have loved it. 

“Fearne didn’t want to stay?” She sounded so small, like being here with her was hurting. Imogen didn’t understand at all. Laudna moved to lean against the counter across from her. 

“Stay? Stay here?” Laudna nodded sharply. “Why would she stay here?” This garnered no response. “Laudna?” 

“That’s typically what happens, I believe.” She looked at Imogen with a sad smile. Imogen still couldn’t read her, not at all, but it sounded like— 

“Laudna…” She flinched at the sound of her name and it was that, Laudna standing in their home, scared of her, of what she would say, that made her realise she had to fix this. Whatever the fuck this was. “Laudna, you know it wasn’t actually a date, right? That we were just joking?” Laudna was looking somewhere over her shoulder. “Is that why you’re upset? You thought I went on a date and didn’t tell you?” 

“Partially.”

“Laudna, would you come over here, please?” Imogen hated having her so far away, but she wanted to give her a choice, didn’t want to crowd her. Laudna moved forward and stood between her legs. “If I was doing anything like that, you’d be the first to know, alright? I’m not dating Fearne.” 

“I’d understand though, she’s beautiful and young and fun,” she whispered, “and you’re obviously exquisite.” 

“She is, and she’s a very good friend to me, to us. I’m not interested in her like that.” Imogen didn’t know her voice could even sound that gentle, and she didn’t engage with the other part, as much as it made her ache. Laudna pushed the heels of her hands into her eyes. 

“I didn’t like it,” she whispered, quietly enough that Imogen barely heard it. It felt like all the air had been sucked from the room. 

“What do you mean?” she said slowly. 

“I didn’t like thinking about you with her, didn't like thinking about her hands on you.” She was still covering her eyes and talking quietly, but every part of Imogen’s body very suddenly felt tight. There was the tiniest flicker in the middle of her chest, and she thought it might have been something as foolish as hope. 

“Didn’t like thinking about her hands on me, or thinking about anyone’s hands on me?” Imogen needed to know exactly what she was thinking, needed to know if she was understanding. Because (oh god, please) it sounded like Laudna was jealous. She didn’t respond, just kept pushing her hands into her eyes. Imogen thought touching her might be a terrible idea right now, everything felt so charged, but she couldn’t help it; she reached up and wrapped her hands around Laudna’s wrists, gently pulled her hands down, and held them loosely in her lap. “Or didn’t like thinking about anyone else’s hands on me.”  There was a sharp inhalation at that, and Imogen had to remind herself to breathe. 

“What is happening?” Laudna hissed under her breath, and Imogen didn’t know either, didn’t know if she was on the verge of getting everything she had ever wanted or watching her life crash and burn. 

“Laudna,” she said slowly, desperately trying not to scare her away. She was going to be brave. She had been handed an opportunity to be brave, and it may be her only chance. Fuck it. Fuck it. “Laudna, were you jealous?” Her eyes opened at this, and she looked at Imogen’s hands around her wrists, then into her eyes. She looked apprehensive, and a little scared, but something in Imogen’s tone must have bolstered her, because she didn’t look like she was going to bolt anymore. “Laudna,” she said, and watched as Laudna’s eyes widened at the desperation in her voice, “tell me you were jealous.”

“Of course I was jealous,” she whispered, and placed her hands on Imogen’s bare thighs. 

“Fuck,” she hissed and tightened her grip around her wrists, letting her forehead fall against Laudna’s. 

“Imogen, I don’t understand what’s happening. Please, tell me what’s happening.” It was very clear what was happening to Imogen, if the cool thumb stroking along the inside of her thigh had anything to do with it. 

“Can I kiss you?” Her lips were right there, she was so close. “I can’t tell if it’s alright or not anymore.” 

Laudna leaned forward and kissed her.

Imogen had always thought that it would be explosive, like fireworks going off in her brain and her world inverting, but it didn’t feel like that at all; it was better. It was gentle and tentative, and it felt so much like coming home that she felt a tear roll down her cheek. Laudna pulled back and looked her in the eye nervously, but reached up to brush the tear away. 

“Imogen…” she looked unsure, but there was a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. Imogen didn’t quite believe that it was real, and she let her gaze linger on Laudna’s lips. Laudna kissed her again, and slid her hand into Imogen’s hair. She only realised she’d let out a quiet moan when Laudna’s other hand tightened on her leg. This kiss was less gentle, more passionate, and she felt the hand in her hair tighten when she sucked gently on Laudna’s bottom lip. 

She had thought that this would never happen, that she’d live her perfect, quiet life with Laudna, with this consigned to her dreams. She had never thought that Laudna would want her like this, would want to touch her like this, would want to touch her in all the ways that she thought about when she was alone, but that hand was sliding higher up her leg in a way that made her think maybe she could have that too. But—

“Wait, wait,” she said into her mouth, breaking the kiss. Laudna’s hand was immediately removed from her hair and she tried to back away, but Imogen grabbed her hand and held her close. 

“Oh god, oh no, Imogen, I’m so sorry—”

“No, no, hush, none of that.” She rested their foreheads together and caught her breath. “I just need you to know before anything happens.”

“This isn’t anything happening?” She sounded like she was holding herself together by her fingertips. 

“I can’t do this if this is you wanting something casual, Laudna, not if it’s just you feeling possessive of my time, or because you think it’s what I want. If we do this, I need you to know what it would mean to me, because it would mean everything to me.” Her voice cracked and Laudna stopped trying to move away in panic, and instead looked her in the eye with an incredulous expression. 

“Casual? Imogen, when has anything between us ever been casual? Neither of us have a casual bone in our body.” Laudna was smiling softly, and the comfort it gave her helped her be brave, one last time. 

“Laudna,” she took a deep breath. Now or never. She was past the point of no return. “I am so in love with you,” she said softly, and kissed her again, slow and gentle. 

When she pulled back, apprehensive of what she would see, Laudna was looking at her the way she always did, gentle and fond and loving. She had had two years to think of every way that this conversation could go, from the horrific to the miraculous, but never in her imagination had things been so normal. She should have known it would be, should have known that anything that happened between them would always be full of love. 

“I love you too,” she said, “I’m in love with you too.” Everything inside Imogen felt like she was floating; she’d never expected to hear those words. “I didn’t realise that’s what it was until recently, it’s just always how things have been between us, it’s always been so wonderful. I was telling the truth when I said you brought me back to life, but I didn’t realise you’d found this part of me as well.” She was running her fingers gently through Imogen’s hair, pressed a swift kiss on her lips. “I think this is me regaining my balance.” 

“Just so you know, everyone else is going to be so smug about it, because they’re assholes.” At Laudna’s questioning head tilt, she rolled her eyes and said, “They’ve known how I feel about you for a long time, and have teased me relentlessly about how useless I am. Sorry.” 

“You’re not useless, you’re very capable. And no one is going to be as smug as I am, Imogen. Look at you.” She might have been wrong when she thought she could handle this, felt the blush rise lightly on her cheeks. Laudna kissed her over the pinking skin and murmured, “You’re so beautiful.” 

“You’re telling me you’ve never thought about this at all?” she said breathlessly as Laudna kissed down her jaw to her neck. “You seem pretty sure about what you want.” Laudna pulled back to look at her, and was met with an embarrassing whine of protest. 

“Maybe I’ve had a dream or two. What is it that you want, Imogen?”

“Everything,” she said, honestly. “I want to live our life exactly as we have been and I want nothing to change apart from the fact we do this too. I want to move all my stuff into your room and make it our room and turn mine into a little workshop for you and sleep in the same bed every night. If it’s something you’re interested in I want to touch you, however you want me to, and again, if you’re interested, I have some very strong ideas about what I want you to do to me.” This was met with the dilation of Laudna’s pupils and hands clutching at her waist that indicated she was very interested. “At some point, when you’re ready, if you’re ever ready, I want to marry you. I want it all, Laudna.” 

“Alright,” she said, smiling her sharp smile. 

“Alright?”

“Yes. That sounds perfect.”

“What, all of it?”

“Yes.” Both of them were beaming at each other like idiots. “But it’s getting late. We should go to bed.” Imogen removed her hands from Laudna’s shoulders. 

“Yeah, ok.”

“Imogen. It’s getting late.” She leaned in and whispered in her ear. “Take me upstairs, and show me your ideas.” 

Imogen took her by the hand and led her to her bedroom, their bedroom, where Laudna made every single one of her dreams come true.