Title: Waiting for the Rain
Characters:
Kent, Lyndis
Genre:
Romance, Introspective
Words:
545
Notes:
This is also written for Sardonic Kender Smile; she requested it when I took requests last month.
Prompt:
Kent and Lyn's journey to Sacae. Slice of life.


"Are you okay?"

Automatically, without conscious thought or even a moment to consider her question, he begins to nod, but her head moves back and forth in a negative connotation, and he pauses.

"No," she says. "Are you all right?"

All right with what? he thinks. With the drizzle that falls from the heavens, with the smell of wet grass and air and horse? With her? With—with what?

"I…" He doesn't know what to think, what to say, how to answer such a vague question. Her eyes are dark and swimming with something he can't quite place. Hope or regret or want, maybe. Love and trust, definitely. The other thing, the one he can't place, begins to bother him.

"It's not too late," she says slowly, her voice controlled and even, low, like it always is, but gentle.

And he understands.

She won't hold it against him if he leaves right now, if he turns tail and runs back to Caelin, if he abandons her as swiftly as he'd already abandoned his canton, his position, if he just goes, because if this isn't what he wants, if he's not okay with this, with this life, with the plains that are laid out before and behind them, with her, then it's okay. Her frankness has always been something he's loved about her, but here and now, he finds it disconcerting, worrisome, odd.

He wonders for a moment why she is giving him a way out, wonders if she thinks he'll take it, if her conscience is making her offer, if she's feeling particularly uncertain at this very moment, if—

"This is what I want," he assures her quickly, before he can think too much on it, before he finds himself overwhelmed by the future that stretches out before them, uncertain and unknown. His arm wraps around her shoulders, pulling her into him, fighting the chill of the spring air and the fear that he knows both of them feel, deep down.

Her fear that he will leave because this isn't what he wants after all.

His fear that everything will go wrong, that they will fight over silly things, that he won't be able to discard titles and propriety enough to be more than a lover, that he won't be good enough, that they will live, alone and isolated, and will only have one another and that both of them will stay out of a fear of loneliness.

As they stand beneath the twisted yew, the drizzle falling around them soaks the grass and saturates the air with a musty sort of moistness, and their fears retreat. They do not fade, because fears always return at the worst of times, but for now, he knows, he feels confident, that they can do this, that they will make it work, that they can both find happiness so far from everything and everyone.

"Me, too," she says, giving him a tentative smile as her arm wraps around his waist, her face awash with relief.

There is no need for either of them to say more. Instead, his fingers squeeze her shoulder reassuringly, and she leans into him, and they both watch the world around them, waiting for the rain to stop so that they can move on.