My Drabbles;; Moonbeams
This drabble is old. I wrote it literally years ago. I still really adore the heart of it, and want to bring it over from my other blog/docs, but there's a lot I'd change in my descriptions if I rewrote it now. I repeated things a little more than I'd like... and yet I refuse to fix it. There's a fondness in me for this. I wrote it at the beginning of Beck and Lexa's relationship, and aside from correcting a few spelling mistakes, I'm leaving it alone. I hope I've grown as a writer over the years, but I also feel like its important to look back and love what you have. So if you read this, I hope you still enjoy it. I always will <3
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In which Beck is brought to Polis as a captive by Azgeda, and Lexa offers to keep her there and help her heal. They're gay so gay stuff follows.
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She couldn’t remember ever having someone shake her awake. Ever since she’d been brought to Polis, Lexa had been a perpetually light sleeper. That had only gotten worse after she’d become commander. After she’d lost the woman she loved to Nia’s sadism. Perhaps that was why she didn’t react with immediate murderous intent to the hand on her shoulder gently rocking her back into consciousness.
Lexa jolted upright so quickly that she nearly headbutted the little woman standing above her. She took a breath to steady herself. “What are you doing?”
She wasn’t sure what else to ask. Beck didn’t appear to be distressed, and the streets outside her window were quiet. Nothing seemed to be in disarray. Except for the fact that the moon was still high in the sky over Polis, and that her door had been locked and guarded, and that the the witch was supposed to still be on bed rest unless absolutely necessary, but there she was, her unbound hand still lingering on her shoulder, barely illuminated by the light of a candle she’d forgotten to extinguish.
“Come with me.” The witch whispered. The witch’s fingers trailed down her arm to grasp her wrist and gently tug her forward.
Lexa, who was still blinking away sleep and confusion, allowed herself to be coaxed up from the comfort of her furs and into the cool night air. She wasn’t dressed to go anywhere, and she needed her sword. Were they under attack? What was happening?
Beck kept gently leading her along until she was awake enough to feel the irritation growing inside her.
“Tell me the meaning of this.” She demanded. A cold breeze blew her nightgown flush against her body and Lexa crossed her arms. The chill wasn’t that bad, but it’d been a long time since anyone had seen her in this state, and she felt exposed. “Are we in danger?”
Beck gave her a bewildered look, “Of course not. I need your help with something.”
Another tug on her hand, and Beck was wearing that ridiculously unapologetic smile that lit up her whole face. Lexa felt a flutter in the pit of her stomach, and some of her annoyance waned. It couldn’t hurt to help the witch, right? Surely her task was important if it warranted being out of bed at this hour, especially with her injury. And it wasn’t safe for her to wander the woods around Polis alone; the witch was no warrior. It was better than returning to her fitful dreams and frequent nightmares.
“Wait.” She demanded as the witch began to head for the door. She went to her dresser and rifled through the drawers to find something more suitable to wear. Beck was bouncing impatiently on her heels, but to Lexa’s surprise she was at least listening. She strapped her hunting knife to the thigh and while she was fastening the sword on her hip she looked back to her guest. “What is it I’m helping with, exactly?”
“I’m going to catch moonbeams.” The witch replied. Lexa waited for a long moment for her to break out into a laugh or to roll her eyes to show that she was being sarcastic. That moment never came. Beck was looking at her with utter sincerity and enthusiasm, still smiling, rocking back and forth on the ball of her feet with thinly bridled anticipation.
Beck was a creature in constant motion. She buzzed with a persistent energy that threatened to spill over into action at any moment. The witch would sway back and forth in conversation, or swing her legs while sitting in a chair, and the guards had found her sleep walking twice since she’d come to Polis. Sometimes Lexa found herself resisting the urge to lay her hands on the woman’s shoulders to see if it would quiet her, but she never did.
“You want to catch---the moon?” Lexa said slowly.
Beck nodded eagerly. “Not all of her. Just a few rays. She doesn’t mind. I promise.”
She could only stare in bewilderment. If this was a jest... The irritation started to come back to her.
“Beck-”
The witch must have heard the tension in her voice, because she cut her off. “Please? You need two hands to hold the bowl. I’ve only got the one. It’ll be fun. I promise.”
Lexa looked at the witch’s arm, still tightly splinted from where the healer had reset it only days ago. There was probably still a nasty arrow wound in her leg as well, and a menagerie of bruises on her skin beneath her clothes. Azgeda had not been kind to her when they transported her to the capital. She needed to be in bed.
But short of dragging her there forcefully, there wasn’t much she could do to stop Beck from wandering off on her own. It was well within her ability to do that, but she wouldn’t. The witch was not her captive, and if she wished to leave, so be it.
She let out a soft sigh. “Very well.”
When she turned to follow, Beck had already bent down and picked up a basket sitting by the door that Lexa had not noticed. She precariously lodged it between her hip and her good arm as she slipped out the door into the dark hall. Lexa followed silently, unsure what she could even say to fill the silence if she’d have wanted to. In the light of a torch at the end of the hall, she could see the witch was still limping slightly, but she was still walking quickly.
“My healers said your leg was still injured.” She said, broaching the subject carefully. In her short time of knowing Beck, she had learned the witch didn’t take kindly to being told what to do.
Beck shrugged, and Lexa’s eyes lingered on the way her golden curls glinted in the light of the torch for just a little too long. “It’s doing just fine.”
She was certain if Beck lifted up her long skirt the arrow wound would still be red and swollen, that if the healer assessed the injury he’d send her back to bed to rest, but she didn’t argue. If she were injured she’d do the same. Weakness was not a luxury she could afford. Did witches also value strength? Were they made to cover up their pain for fear their own people would judge them for it? Beck seemed so open and carefree, but was that persona just a mask to hide behind?
The guards by the Tower door stood stiff with confusion as they saw the pair rounding the corner, and Lexa raised her hand to dismiss them. They would tell Titus, and he’d be irritated with her, but as much as she didn’t want to listen to his constant complaints come sunrise, she didn’t like the way Beck tensed and drew back away from her guards. It was obvious that they made the witch nervous, and Lexa hardly blamed her after Azgeda had dragged her across the coalition lands, beaten, filthy, and half-starved. After that if Beck didn’t assume that all of her people were brutish and cruel it’d be nothing short of a miracle. Her trust would be hard earned, as Lexa’s would have been if she were in her shoes.
They stepped out into the night air, and Lexa scanned the quiet streets for threats while Beck hobbled forward without a second thought. She couldn’t afford to hesitate. If she blinked Beck was likely to be gone by the time she opened her eyes.
“The city is so quiet here at night.” Beck said. A trail of silver breath trickled from her lips in the chill of the evening. It was too late for even the seediest mead hall to be serving patrons. Perhaps somewhere in the depths of the city where she could not see, there were a few people lingering by a candle, but they would be few and far between. Despite living in the city, most people still rose early to hunt or fish. Soldiers weren’t afforded the luxury of sleeping in. Craftsmen had to rise with the sun to get their wares in order in their stalls. Spending the evening wandering the streets in the light of the full moon was a senseless waste of energy.
“Do witches not sleep?” She asked, mostly joking. Though that was hardly clear from her tone. But Beck let out a soft, musical laugh and tossed a bit of hair behind her shoulder as they walked, and Lexa felt that jittery sensation flicker to life again at the sound.
“Eventually everything has to sleep.” She was looking off into the distance with a wistful smile on her lips. “But it’s not like this. Some witches prefer the night. Some even specialize in spellcraft that is most powerful under the moon. Others get up to collect spell materials and alchemical supplies that aren’t there during the day or they fight off sleep to finish working on a project. There’s always folks singing around fires and dancing to the tune. Night markets pop up somewhere new every evening, and you have to find your way there by the smell of street food and the glow of crystal lanterns.”
Lexa felt both an intense curiosity and a pang of sorrow at the wonders the witch described. “Polis must bore you.”
The witch leaned her weight off of her bad leg and spun in a circle, looking up at the night sky and then around to the quiet city. If Lexa hadn’t seen her when she’d first been brought to the capital, she’d wonder if the smile ever left Beck’s face. Moonlight shimmered off of her hair as she twirled, and glowed silver along her cheeks.
“Not at all. Everything here is different.” She began to walk once more, headed for the woods behind the city. “I can feel them all dreaming here. All at once. And when I dream with them I feel their power in the dream realm spread out like a beacon. Power they aren’t even aware they wield. It’s---harmonious. Beautiful. Foreign. Peaceful. How could it possibly bore me?”
Lexa couldn’t be sure what any of that meant. She had received visions before, dreams from the previous commanders showing her wisdom, but she knew nothing of a realm of dreams. But as the witch described it, quiet, breathy, and reverent, Lexa felt as if their emotions were bleeding together, and that even if she did not have a rational explanation of the witch’s words, she understood by feeling.
They walked out of the city and into the woods in silence after that. Something peaceful had settled inside her chest, and Lexa clung to that rare feeling desperately. She focused on the sound of their muffled footfalls on the dirt path and the whisper of the wind gently stirring the brush. Animals wandered the forest unperturbed by their presence. An owl preening itself on a branch right above her that did not fly away as they passed, and a small herd of deer grazing on the tender grass at the edge of the path walked alongside them for several moments with no fear for their speckled fawns. It felt like a dream, and Lexa feared that if she spoke, it would be shattered and she’d wake in her bed---warm, comfortable, but terribly alone.
Beck gasped and drew her back to reality. Lexa found her hand gripping her sword handle and searching the forest for threats. The woods were shrouded in darkness, and she couldn’t hear anything. When she looked back to the witch, she was kneeling by a cluster of flowers that were glowing faintly. Her fingers gently lifted the petals without breaking them from their stems, and her thumb tenderly stroked their edges.
“What are these?”
“We call them natshana yongon.” She explained. The little bell shaped flowers grew all over her lands. She remembered being young and sneaking out of the tower with the other nightbloods to gather armfuls of them. She remembered Luna’s hands over hers teaching her how to grind them into a paste, and painting glowing pictures on the tower wall that would fade before Titus ever had the chance to see them. That was so far behind her now that it felt like a different world. They were all gone, all but Luna. Luna who had ran. Luna who had at one time been her closest friend. Luna who hated her so much that she couldn’t bear the sight of her now. But even if the memory had turned bittersweet in her mouth, she still cherished it.
“Natshana---yo-gun?”
“Yongon.” She corrected gently. “Moon children in the Maunon tongue. They only bloom at night.”
“Can I take some of them?” Beck asked, looking up at her with an unnecessary plea in her eyes.
Lexa nodded. “They will fade not long after you pick them.
Beck began to gently pluck the flowers and tuck them away into an apron she was wearing over her skirt until it was puffed and full. She looked up at Lexa and held out her hand. “Will you help me up?”
It was such a small request, but the flutter in her stomach was back. It was a cold night, but the witch radiated with the warmth of an oven. Her gaze gentle and unguarded, her smile soft and ever present. Lexa took her hand and felt a shiver rush down her spine that she desperately tried to cover up as she helped Beck back up. The witch rocked unsteadily and Lexa instinctively reached out and carefully grasped her hip when she stumbled forward. Unable to steady herself with her broken arm, Beck couldn’t stop herself from swaying forward into Lexa’s chest.
She could smell the perfume of freshly picked flowers, and feel the tickle of golden curls brush against her neck. Beck was warm and soft, and she could feel her chest shaking and hear the sound of laughter bubbling through the air.
“I’m so sorry.” The witch said, and as she pulled away Lexa could see her face was flushed. Lexa couldn’t bring herself to laugh. Her heart was racing like a spooked horse, and it was all she could do to keep her breathing steady. She felt Beck squeeze her fingers and then step out of her grasp entirely. “I can’t even stand on my own two feet anymore.”
“It’s fine.” She finally managed, her voice gentler than usual. To give herself something to do other than stare stupidly at the witch, Lexa bent down and scooped up the basket that Beck had dropped while picking flowers.
“You’re sweet.” Beck reached out and took back her things. “Thank you.”
The sincerity of the complement took her off guard. She’d been called many things in her life---but no one had ever called her sweet. No one other than Costia.
This was going too far. She needed to get back to the tower. Away from the woods, away from the wild eyed witch. But Beck was already headed down the path again, humming softly as she went. There would be no coaxing her back to the Tower, and she couldn’t bring herself to leave her out in the woods alone. She would just have to control herself.
Beck stopped them by a large pond where the surface was quiet and the reflection of the full moon was undisturbed. She sat her basket on a rock and pulled out a large bowl and a few small glass bottles. After handing the bowl to Lexa, she removed her apron and reached up to unbutton several of the buttons on her shirt, revealing two large flat crystals hanging from a leather cord on her neck. She tugged on them until they came free, and with careful fingers she took them off her necklace and placed one in the bottom of the bowl. Lexa bit down on the inside of her cheek and fought to keep the stony expression on her face while Beck rearranged the little crystal to her liking. The top of her shirt remained unbuttoned, and Lexa was trying to look anywhere but the dark stain of the tattoo between the witch’s breasts.
Her voice was barely more than a whisper when she spoke, “What do you want me to do?”
Beck poured the contents of one bottle into the bowl and then took hold of Lexa’s wrist. She wanted to say that this was unnecessary, that if the witch would just give her direction she’d follow, that they shouldn’t be doing---whatever this was. But the words never left her throat. She allowed herself to be pulled out into the cold water until it was up to her hips.
“All you have to do is hold the bowl still. I’ll pass the crystal over it.”
Was it her imagination or were her fingers lingering again?
Beck lifted the crystal above her head and passed it directly over the reflection of the moon in her bowl. A tingling sensation went up through her fingers, and Lexa furrowed her brows. Beck had begun to sing a strange, unintelligible song in a high, breathy tone. Once more she passed the crystal over the bowl and this time the vibration was stronger. The bowl felt---lighter somehow, and it was getting hard to keep her breathing even. Her eyes were locked onto the witch, whose head was tilted up toward the sky as she sang out her spell. She rocked with every slow swing of the crystal, and the water rippled and whispered with the movement of her body. Was all magic so---entrancing to witness?
As far as Lexa knew this was the first intentional magic she’d seen the witch do. She’d seen---something on the day of Beck’s arrival when they had visited her healer, but it had been brought on by fear. There had been no purpose to it. And Lexa had felt like an outsider merely observing the phenomenon. Now she felt the effects of the spell merging with her, running through her body as she held the bowl in her hand.
When the witch finished her song she continued to silently sway for several minutes, soaking up the light of the full moon until the magic waned and she came back to herself. Her lashes fluttered as she blinked the trance away from her eyes and returned to herself. And then the warm smile returned to her face and she looked down into the bowl.
“That should be more than enough.” She said, fishing her crystal from the bottom of the vessel and returning both of them to the leather cord they came from. “Here, help me pour it into the bottles.”
Lexa followed her carefully back to the shore. She wasn’t sure what if anything would happen should she spill the bowl of freshly gathered “moonbeams” and she didn’t intend on finding out. Beck carefully collected the water in her bottles and corked them, then put everything back in her basket. They had just turned to leave when a soft glow caught her eye.
“Wait.” She scooped down to pick up the apron and shook the debris from it before placing it in the basket as well.”
The walk back was quiet. Beck didn’t bombard her with questions or ramble on about something that she didn’t understand like Lexa was used to. She was content to hum softly as they made their way out of the woods and back to the tower.
“I’m glad you came with me.” Beck said once they had crossed the threshold and entered into the city proper.
“I…” Lexa wasn’t sure what she should say. There was a knot of confusing emotions sitting in her stomach. Desire, longing, loneliness, and fear were all fighting for her attention, and she wasn’t sure which to give in to. “I owed you as much, after what the Azgedan forces did to your arm.”
“Well then consider your debt paid in full.” The witch teased, and then she held Lexa’s gaze, her playful expression giving way to something else. Something sincere and hopeful. “Maybe next time you’ll tag along just for fun.”
She couldn’t bring herself to tell the witch that she had no time for fun. That every part of her was meant to belong to her duty. Titus would say it later, once he found out about their midnight tryst. He’d tell her that if she truly cared for the witch that she’d send her home. It would be better just to accept that now. To put an end to her hopeless desire before it truly began. And yet…
Lexa gave the witch a slight nod and turned back to the Tower. “Goodnight, Beck.”
That playful air seeped back into her tone. “That wasn’t a no.”
It was still dark when she woke the next morning, but a faint glow greeted her as she opened her eyes. Sitting in a small glass bottle on her bedside table, brilliantly and impossibly shimmering with life, was a twine-bound bundle of the natshana yongon. She propped herself up on an arm and reached out to stroke a shimmering petal, and she felt the magic dance along her fingertips just as she had the night before. And in the privacy of her quarters, she allowed herself a smile.
