My IF Archive

She looked up into a pair of golden eyes, a darker shade than her own, framed by the matching spirals of an aeda’s crest. 

“I’ve never seen you in my tavern before,” they said, extending a hand. “You can call me Clio.”

Mirren took their hand in her own and braced herself for the inevitable flinch, the look of disgust that would cross their face as they felt their magic drain under her touch. When their grip held firm, she blinked, her own grip tightening reflexively in surprise. 

They tilted their head, dark brown curls sweeping across their shoulders. Mirren caught a flash of golden wings over their shoulder, a feathered sunrise on the horizon. Clio smiled, teasing, as if they knew they had caught her off-guard. 

She recovered as neatly as she could, dropping their hand and saying, “Mirren. I’m just passing through.”

Clio’s smile grew sharper, their eyes sweeping over her. “Too bad. I like newcomers, they never know when I’m overcharging.” They winked at her, and their smile melded into something friendlier. “I’ll bring you something to eat.”

Mirren flexed her fingers as they turned away, shaking off the ghost of Clio’s touch, but their firm, unflinching grasp had left her unmoored, a hit she didn’t quite know how to roll with. Unfamiliar, after years of being able to adapt to any change in the wind, but not unwelcome.

Sensitive

“And that,” Clio said with a smirk, “is why I can’t go back to Tol Covere.”

Mirren laughed for what felt like the hundredth time that night. Happy, warm, and leaning loose-limbed in her seat, she said, “I can’t go back there either.”

“Oh?” Clio said, their interest piqued as a tiny shot of terror ran through Mirren. “I sense a story there.”

She felt that same old self-preservation instinct rise within her, telling her not to talk about her family, that it would only bring old hurts to the surface. It wasn’t worth thinking about, let alone talking about.

“My family lives there,” she said. She caught herself fiddling with the coin she wore on a chain around her neck when Clio’s eyes darted down to her fingers, and made herself stop. “We…don’t get along.”

Clio nodded and an ache grew inside Mirren at the patient way they watched her, chin resting in the palm of their hand, expression warm and welcoming. She suddenly, desperately, wanted to know how it would feel to share part of herself with someone—not just with someone, but with Clio.

The feeling almost won out over her desire to keep her history close to her chest, but she wasn’t ready quite yet. Clio didn’t prod, just shifted forward in their chair and pushed the last piece of bread towards Mirren as they launched into another story about rowdy patrons.

It was the quiet understanding of their gesture that made Mirren think, Not now, but someday.

Travel

“If I could go anywhere…,” Clio trailed off absently, turning the bowl in their hands as they washed it. They handed the bowl off to Mirren for drying and said, “Aos.”

“An Aeda city? Creative,” Mirren teased, scrunching her nose when Clio flicked water in her face.

“Where would you go then, oh world-weary traveler? Let me guess: Calantha?”

“No. I don’t know—someday, maybe.” Mirren accepted the next dish from Clio, her gaze drifting off as she thought. “I used to dream of having my own ship. I wanted to go everywhere, just pick a point on the horizon and set sail.”

“Captain Mirren Sero,” Clio said in a faux ponderous tone. They bumped Mirren with their hip. “You should do it.”

“Right,” Mirren said sarcastically. “A ship and a crew costs more crowns than I’ll ever see in my life.”

“So you’ll steal one, and head for Mathara. You have a face that inspires trouble. The pirates will love that.” 

Clio patted her on the cheek with a soapy hand, and Mirren flushed. Clio turned back to the cutlery in their hand, but they kept talking. “I’ll write you letters, so everyone knows you have someone somewhere thinking of you. And you had better write back, so I can pretend I have a mysterious lover at sea, who returns to me every time her ship docks nearby.”

Their voice was light, easy enough to write off as a joke. Mirren said, “Mysterious, huh?”

Clio smiled. “A little embellishment. I’m not sure what’s so mysterious about someone from Tol Covere wanting to captain a ship.”

Mirren tossed her towel in Clio’s face, and the two of them descended into laughter.

Romance Summer, 1247

When Clio leaned in, it wasn’t the kiss that surprised Mirren. It was that she found herself meeting them halfway, hands sliding behind their neck, lips curving into a smile when they pulled back. 

Now, sitting alone at the bar while Clio tended to tonight’s meal with the other cooks, Mirren was caught halfway between terror and a warm, unfamiliar stirring in her chest. 

She could let herself want this, couldn’t she? Never-mind the churning of her gut, telling her it wasn’t too late to escape. Never-mind that the idea of letting Clio know her the way they already did made her stomach twist. She could stay. She could want to stay.

Clio emerged from the kitchen, a smile lighting up their face when they saw her. They almost looked relieved to find her there, and that look alone made her want to both flee and kiss them again. 

“This came for you,” they said, holding something out to her. “I’m surprised it made it here.”