As always, Valhalla has been utilized with Guine's approval.
Word Count: 1722
“Why are we here?”
The question was mumbled against Ganymede's neck. Warm breath and the prickles of Valhalla's five o'clock shadow drifted over her skin.
“Why not?” Ganymede said, tilting her head back in a display that could have been alluring if it hadn't looked so ridiculous. She was trying too hard and they both knew it.
Valhalla straightened to catch her eye, staring the way he always did when he wanted to be insistent about talking about feelings, and frustrating things like war and death and lies and running. Which Ganymede wasn't doing, as much as she wanted to. She'd not done it in over a year. She was better. She was dealing with the new stresses in her life in a much healthier fashion.
“Can't we just enjoy being here?” she asked.
“I don't get as much enjoyment out of it as you seem to,” Val said.
Ganymede rolled her eyes and flopped back against the large pillows at the head of the bed.
“I just wanted to get away for a while,” she said.
“From what?”
“The city. Is that so bad?”
“No,” Val said, “but you've been doing that a lot lately.”
“I have not,” Ganymede insisted. “The cabin was all your idea. And this is only one night. We'll be back by morning.”
Valhalla frowned like what she was saying made him sad. Ganymede had to shift her gaze away to avoid the look.
“You could just go back to the kissing,” she said.
“Why, so you can distract me from what's really bothering you?”
Ganymede let out a heavy breath and crossed her arms over her chest. Her top-hat had been dropped onto the floor somewhere soon after arriving, her hair unbound from its usual style to spill down her back. She'd removed her gloves, fingerless though they were, and her boots had been tugged off some moments ago.
There wasn't any sense in dirtying the coverlet.
She'd spent some time restoring her bedroom on Ganymede. Liesel's room was more accurate, but as he was no longer living and she'd come to take his place, Ganymede thought it appropriate for her to claim it as her own. It was the one room in the palace in which she felt most comfortable, even if there were times in which it felt a bit like a cage. At least she was safe here. And the memories... sometimes they were pleasant.
She'd cleaned up the mess and pieces of broken furniture, disposing of what couldn't be salvaged and setting Val to work on what little had actually survived. The rest of the current furniture she'd had him help her bring from Earth. All antiques. Some of them priceless. She thought it more accurate to the original décor. The bed had been repaired, the mattress replaced. New French doors had even been installed for the balcony. The balcony itself remained partially crumbled, but that and the garden below it were next on Ganymede's list.
With the walls touched up and new paintings hung, and dusted knickknacks arranged along the mantle above the hearth, it actually felt like a home.
“It's more comfortable here sometimes,” she admitted quietly. “It helps keep the nightmares away.”
She knew Valhalla was still staring at her sadly. He sighed and shifted on the bed, settling next to her instead of hovering beside her. Her took her hand and laced their fingers together, pulling her against his side to wrap his other arm around her.
“You could just play along,” she told him.
“Is that what you want?” he asked.
“I don't know,” she said. She shrugged. “Sometimes, maybe. It's easier than having to explain and having you judge me for it.”
“I'm not judging you,” Val gently argued.
“You are. You never really get it. Why I like it here so much.”
“I try to understand.”
“I know...”
“But it's not enough?”
Ganymede dropped her head onto Valhalla's shoulder. “Sometimes it is,” she said. “Sometimes it's not.”
“I'm sorry,” Val said.
She hummed in agreement, tightened the grip of her hand, rolled her head to look up at him, though the angle was somewhat awkward. Ganymede lifted her free hand to Val's face, running her fingers over his scratchy jawline.
“You should grow a beard,” she said suddenly. She perked up almost immediately at the thought, smiling like she thought it a brilliant idea.
Valhalla just stared at her warily. “Why?” he asked.
“Why not? Just try it out. I think it'd be kind of sexy,” she grinned.
Valhalla looked as if he wasn't sure if he should feel concerned or amused. He gazed at her with that same sad expression from before, only this time she thought she saw a look of pain behind it.
“What?” she asked, lifting her head back up.
He shook his head and showed her a smile that looked forced. “Nothing.”
He unlaced their fingers and ran his hand up her arm, skimming over her shoulder, cupping the side of her neck, caressing her face. It was slow and gentle, though his eyes looked dismal, and his smile remained small and distant.
“What is it?” she asked again.
Valhalla shook his head a second time.
“Come on, what?” Ganymede said, and pushed at his shoulder like she could force the answer out of him.
“Sometimes I just worry you forget I'm here,” he told her.
“What?” she gave a start. “I don't. Why would you think that?”
It was his turn to shrug, and tilt his head back, and stare up at the ceiling like he was lost.
The sun had set some time ago, though it didn't so much set as the sunlight simply faded. The sky, which during the daytime was commonly a cheerful cerulean darkened to dull purple, slowly losing color until the sky was black again, like it used to be before her vow in the throne room. The blackness was peppered with stars, hundreds of them—thousands, millions. Jupiter loomed, ominous as always, lightening the night somewhat with a faint red-ish glow.
She didn't hear the voices as often anymore. It didn't distress her as much as it might have had she not been able to feel life coursing its way through her world, slowly reviving it—and in doing so reviving her. She felt at peace here. She could rest with no worry, regain her strength and her sanity in the silence, and when she grew tired of that she could immerse herself in memories until she felt well enough to return home.
But it upset Val. Ganymede could have easily assumed it was simply a lack of understanding on his part, but that would be giving him far too little credit. He might not understand how she felt about this place, but surely he could see the effect it had on her.
And it worried him, she knew. He dreaded losing a part of her to this place. She thought he might even resent it.
Maybe he even resented her, too.
“I'm sorry,” she said.
Ganymede lifted her hand further and threaded her fingers through his hair. Val had removed his helmet when she'd disposed of her hat. His cape, too, and all the belts and pieces of armor that looked so cumbersome. Beneath it all—the chest-plate, the tunics, the chain-mail—he wore a simple, quilted shirt and leggings.
When Val didn't immediately respond, Ganymede added, “I wish I knew what to do.”
“About what?” he asked softly.
“You feeling this way,” she said.
Val showed her another sad smile. “It's alright,” he said.
“It's not.”
“It is. I know you don't do it on purpose. This place, it's just... you used to be so against focusing on the past, and now whenever somethings happens, or if you're questioning yourself, it's like you think this is the only place that can give you any answers.”
“Val—”
“But it doesn't, does it?”
The tone of his voice and the way he tilted his head back down to look her in the eye let her know he already knew the answer to that question.
No, it never really gave her any answers. She didn't understand the war now any more than she had when she'd taken her first steps in it, and she knew next to nothing about the Moon Queen, or what had really happened to start it all. All she had were rumors and stories and hearsay. That wasn't much to rely on. Not for something that had so much of an influence on her, and so much control over her life.
But her homeworld gave her a place to belong. It gave her an identity. She'd spent so much time fighting it that accepting who she was, embracing it and gaining a new understanding of herself through that acceptance, came as a relief. She was free here—from danger, restraint. A mysterious past was more comforting than an uncertain future, though she had no control over either one.
“Val...” she tried again.
“I'm sorry,” he said. He shook his head again. “I'm upsetting you.”
“You're not. Val, I...”
She didn't know what to say to explain herself. She didn't know how to reassure him that he had nothing to fear from this place, because there was a part of her that understood even if she wished she could feign ignorance.
And innocence. She could have distanced herself from this place if she'd tried.
Instead she settled down on the bed, shifting until she was comfortable with the wings that sat low on her back crumpled beneath her. She brought Val with her, guiding him closer with the hand she had in his hair. He hovered above her and lowered his face back into her neck, pressing tender kisses to her heated skin.
Ganymede closed her eyes and drifted in that place between consciousness and memory.
“Val,” she said.
She heard her own voice, and Liesel's too.
“I love you.”
Again the scratch of facial hair tickled her skin, but with her eyes closed she couldn't be sure whether it was Chris she felt, or Serge.
