#bellario

Of course, she knew that he knew she was nervous. He always knew what she was feeling, sometimes even before she’d sorted it out for herself. Sometimes that was frustrating, as if he’d robbed her of the process of sifting through the jumble of her thoughts and emotions merely by being observant. 

It helped to remember that Illario was only so observant because he loved her.

“Where are we going?” He asked after they’d walked along in silence for too long. 

That would be his first clue that something was wrong. Bellara was never quiet for long. 

“Just a little further,” she said. There’s something I need to do.”

“All right,” he said. He was clearly curious, but didn’t press for more, which she appreciated. She was fractious enough without trying to explain why they were going here, now. 

So, they walked on, and Illario took her hand, his touch loose but comforting. Less an anchor and more a life raft. Buoyed, Bellara led him through a grove of trees, leaves bright with spring, and then through a half-crumbled arch and into the ruin. 

To her immense relief, the magic had held. Cyrian’s lamp still glowed, the light of the Veilfire soft but strong.

Bellara clutched Illario’s hand as he peered around the ruin. She didn’t know why. It wasn’t like he’d complain about the place. But she was still anxious that maybe he wouldn’t like Cyrian’s memorial site. That, maybe, it was lacking somehow, in some way she hadn’t considered. 

“It feels different than the other ruins,” he said after a moment. 

“Really?”

Illario nodded. “The other ones are dusty. Old and empty.” He ran a hand along one of the railings separating the balcony from the waterfalls. “This place feels alive.”

“Oh,” she breathed. 

He raised a brow at her. “Is it safe?”

That made her smile–which, knowing Illario, was exactly why he’d asked it. “Yes! Or, at least, mostly.” She shrugged. “As safe as any place in Arlathan can be.”

He sighed, but accepted her answer without further complaint. “Why are we here?”

“Right.” She sighed, then nodded once. She just needed to focus on the task at hand. She could do this. “I need to replenish the lamps,” she said. 

Illario frowned, his dark eyes shining with Veilfire. “How can I help?”

Bellara smiled at him, bit her cheek when her chin wobbled. “Just… keep me company?”

He blinked at her, his lips pressed into a stern line. “Of course.”

And so, Bellara retraced her steps, dousing and relighting the braziers. She whispered the words in Elvhen while Illario followed, watching in curious silence. She was proud of herself when she made it to the final brazier without crying. 

She cleared her throat before turning her attention back to her Crow, prepared to explain–or, at least try to explain. But the soft look in his eyes and his gentle frown left a fresh lump in her throat. 

She should have known he would understand. 

“This is for your brother?”

Bellara took his hand, nodding. “I shouldn’t have put it off for so long,” she said. “But, well… I guess I didn’t want to do it alone.”

For a few heartbeats, Illario just looked at her, his eyes a little wet and shining with the blue-green glow of Veilfire. It was special, to see him like this–borrowed Arlathan leathers dusty with a week’s worth of ruin, his hair up, but with a couple of unruly strands kissing his cheekbones. 

He looked soft. Open in away he would have never allowed only a year ago. 

Then he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. 

Bellara cleared her throat again. “Thank you. For coming with me,” she said. But, what she meant was, thank you for understanding, for holding my hand. Thank you for being here, still.

Illario pulled her close and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I will go anywhere you ask, Colibrí.”

And though she ought know he meant it, that it was always so, today Bellara was grateful for the reminder. That, despite all that she’d lost in the last year, she didn’t have to feel alone. 

More lil snippets:

~A Disciplinary Hearing for Illario~

~Bellara Takes a Little Break~

~How to Train Your Crow~

~Illario & Bellara: Treat Yourself~

~Illario & Bellara on a mission~

Bellara attempts to grab the razor from his hand but she can't reach as he holds it above her, even with those cute little hops she tries. He assumed that when he heard her fling herself out of bed, it was because she woke up inspired and was rushing to pull something apart or fix something or leave more ink and paper notes strewn across his previously immaculately kept room. Not because she wanted to burst in on him when he was finally recovering from a contract and three long days of traveling.

"Trying to - just hang on, come on," Bellara says and wiggles her fingers as she stretches up, balancing on her toes.

"I have no idea what you want to accomplish here."

"To stop you from shaving."

"I can see that much," Illario says and swipes his free hand across several days of stubble. "But what I don't understand is why."

"Oh." Bellara plants her heels back on her floor and blinks up at him. "Because it's hot."

Despite his best efforts, she tells him that he's handsome often but without any special regard for what he's wearing or how he's styled himself. For the first growth of a beard to have inspired that reaction - he's not sure what to do with that.

He leans on his initial impulse to be offended, pitching his voice up haughtily as he declares, "I am always attractive, cara mia."

"Right, right," she agrees, and he feels a little outraged about her tone. "But this is extra hot. Can you keep it?"

Her face is open and eager and sincere, and Illario thinks this is how he ended up with his space and life invaded, no privacy to be found even in the bathroom apparently. Still, he hadn't known before how nice it is to have someone genuinely worried about his well-being, to being welcomed back with a kiss and warm body plastered to his back to help him sleep, and he thinks (privately) that some frustration is worth it.

"You want me to have a beard," he says flatly.

"I mean, if you don't mind?" Bellara suggests. She bounces a little in excitement, fingers curling in his nightshirt, then blurts out, "I found this new serial. The main love interest is this guy that seems like he has a dark past. We don't know what it is yet, but I have a couple of ideas I can tell you about later. Anyway, he's definitely the bad boy type, a little mean but in a flirty way - he kind of reminds me of you? Oh but the best part about this one is that they drew illustrations for it. I don't know why more stories don't have that! So there's a drawing of him, and he has a beard - it looks so good!"

"You want me to have a beard," he repeats slowly, "because a fictional character you like has a beard."

"Well, not when you say it like that." Bellara fidgets under his gaze and frowns, but she can't stop herself from trying again hopefully, "But also, you know, you look really hot like this."

Illario mutters out a curse, then sighs, "My cousin is the one with a beard, not me."

He doesn't realize how vulnerable that sounds until her expressions eases into understanding, and he has to clench his jaw to stop himself from clawing the words back. Instead of leaving him to shave after that though, Bellara takes the razor from his relaxed grip, gaze turning speculative.

"Lucanis doesn't have to have a beard though."

"And what does that mean? Just what are you planning in that devious little brain of yours, hm?"

"Nothing!" Bellara protests. "I just bet we could convince him to get rid of it if that helps. Or, you know, you can both have beards, and you can be the hotter Dellamorte with one."

"…Fine. We'll see how it goes. For now," he warns, but he doesn't think Bellara hears him over the sound of her cheering.

"Thanks!"