where you go i go

Eight

Two years after the end of the war, Nayoko was still haunted by the same nightmares that she had two years ago.

The flickering candlelight cast long shadows onto the Archive walls that almost seemed to form claws. She was used to this by now, having had to traverse the dark hallways more times than she could count in her sleepless nights.

The door of the library in the South Wing creaked as she slipped through. Setting the candelabra onto a desk, she grazed the spines of the books on shelves with the pads of her fingers before selecting one and sitting down. She and Tanya would visit the New World the following moon to conduct official business on behalf of the Archives, hoping to erect libraries and shrines for the worshippers of the Muses that resided there. She would need to vet the staff, too. Maybe she can delegate that task to Tanya after bribing her with tea and biscuits. Speaking of, the drawing desk in Tanya's office often groaned whenever she leaned on it; a new one would be quite the surprise for–

"What are you doing up so late, my Lady?"

Nayoko jumps and drops the book she's holding. It hits the ground with a thud that seems deafening in the silence. She turns, drawing her dagger from a hidden pocket and readies herself for a fight when she notices a familiar silhouette at the doorway.

"Tanya, it's just you," she breathes, first relieved then embarrassed. "I'm sorry. That must've been quite a fright; I almost stabbed you out of instinct."

Tanya nods, approaching and picking up the dropped book. She reads the title, Satrinevana, Muse of the Dance, and hands the book back to Nayoko, who has settled back down at the desk.

"Couldn't sleep?" Tanya asks, turning away and skimming the bookshelves.

Nayoko shakes her head, but remembers Tanya has her back to her and says, "No. It seems like you can't either."

Tanya hums, picking out her own book. She returns to the table and sets it down and sits. She opens the book, flipping it to a random page, but instead of reading, she faces Nayoko.

"How long has this been going on?"

"The insomnia?"

Tanya nods.

"Since my school days," Nayoko admits.

"Nightmares?"

Nayoko thinks for a moment, hesitant, but divulges anyways, "Vivid ones. I thought it would stop after the fighting ceased but," she lets out a shaky laugh, "they seem to follow me everywhere."

Tanya waits patiently for her to continue. She does.

"Sometimes they talk, too. Alice, my father, the friends we lost during the war. When I close my eyes I hear them; when I open my eyes I see them lurking in the shadows."

"What do they say to you?" Tanya asks, voice soft.

There is a pause as Nayoko thinks over her options. She could return to her chambers, pretend to sleep and never speak of this encounter again. Tanya would do the same and never mention seeing her in her nightgown, wandering the halls like a ghost lost to time. The second option is obvious: tell Tanya and be reprimanded for her childishness.

Tanya sees the reluctance in her eyes and waves her over. The scrape of her chair reverberates harshly around the room as Nayoko gets up to take the seat beside Tanya, who tenses at the sound.The stiff professionality returns, and the words on the tip of Tanya's tongue seem to dissolve, but Nayoko's worried face in her peripheral vision urges her to speak.

"When I was your age ten, maybe eleven centuries ago, I fought my first war, one that helped lay the foundations of the Empire. The last battle was against a rebelling lord, one whose territory was so remote that word of his kindred's defeat had not reached him. Though my battalion was thin and cold from the unforgiving winter, there was no doubt in my mind that victory was secure; we expected no more than his personal guard and a few serfs working his land to resist. When we arrived, however, we were faced with an army and I realised we were vastly outnumbered."

Tanya gups audibly, but forces herself to continue.

"I ordered them to charge anyways. I watched as they fell to his army but still refused to retreat. Too stubborn, too contemptuous I was, thinking we could win through sheer will. It wasn't until I saw my wife struck down in front of me that I knew it was a mistake."

She looks at her hands laid flat against the table, palms littered with nicks and scars, the base of her fingers rough with callouses. Her hands turn to fists that shake as she speaks.

"We won that battle. We won the war, too. But there was no joy in my heart, only anger that turned to ice and then into fear. I would see her face in my dreams, hear her voice call for me from impossible places." Shaking in her hands betrayed her anxiety. "I hid knives in my boots and swords under beds. I jumped at the slightest noise and shouted so that even Lena was weary of me. The day that they commissioned that painting—" she points at the domed ceiling, her voice trailing off.

Nayoko squinted as her eyes sought out the ceiling in the dark. She could make out a fresco that spanned the plaster. At the center, a red-haired woman with golden eyes descending from the heavens, brushes in one hand and a scroll in the other. When she returned her gaze to Tanya, Nayoko noticed that she had curled into herself, hugging her knees to her chest.

"That day," Tanya choked on her words, "That day I tried to take my own life."

Nayoko's eyes widened and her mouth hung agape. Her arms seemed to hang uselessly at her sides as Tanya continued.

"I couldn't stand the pain of losing her, grief consumed me and I was furious at the world. I will not burden you with what transpired next. All I remember was drinking a vial of poison and waking up to Lena holding my head as she cried. She was angry too, but angry with me instead. She did not blame me for what I did."

Tanya released her knees, turning to hold Nayoko in a firm but gentle gaze, one Nayoko knew she could never walk away from.

"She only had pity and pain in her eyes as she said, 'Sister, you can not die even if you want to, so live. You must move on, you must power through. Even if it means forgetting. But do not forget yourself, do not forget what you believe in.'"

Tanya could see the question in Nayoko's eyes, and continued.

"I had to believe in myself."

The words hung in the air as Nayoko pondered them. They didn't seem to register, so Tanya took her hand and led her out of the library, down flights of spiral staircases that Nayoko tripped over in the dark, and then through a door that opened onto a field and a gust of cool, autumn air.

Hints of the rising sun had coloured the horizon shades of indigo and pink, reflecting specks of gold into Nayoko's eyes from across the vast, sparkling sea.

When Tanya guided her eyes upward with a gentle hand on her shoulder and gesture towards the heavens that made Nayoko bloom red, she saw the stars that shone in the cloudless sky. Nayoko had spent many sleepless nights wandering the corridors and sprawling gardens, but never had she had such she seen the sky so unobscured and had the time to appreciate it. She breathes deep, letting the frigid air sit in her lungs before breathing out. Tanya points at a cluster, from which Nayoko recognizes the star Syanallis, name of the Muse of poetry.

"Lena," Nayoko whispers.

Tanya offers a weak smile, "Yes." She points at another star, "Arethusei, your predecessor, Helena. She chose you for a reason." Her eyes meet Nayoko's and she feels her knees weaken.

"I think I know why. She believed in you. I do too, now." Tanya stood, back lit by the gold of dawn with red hair that glowed like a halo with gold eyes to match. What truly made Nayoko's breath hitch was the gentle bliss on her face, shoulders arching open without the binding of her uniform and the tense professionality and strictness of duty; she had never looked so fatigued yet so beautiful.

"And I know you're strong enough to believe in yourself."

She takes Nayoko in her arms with a caution that turns to relief when she melts into her touch, and whispers into Nayoko's hair.

"I'll be by your side for as long as it takes you to realise that. You need not prove anything to me, only to yourself."