Respite

Gone But Not Forgotten

There was something about close encounters with death that made you appreciate the simpler things in life. And right now, Arthur was feeling very appreciative.

He was sprawled on the sheets, head buried in the depression between two very soft pillows. He stared at the ceiling, exhausted, both mentally and physically. 

It wasn't the first time, nor would it be the last. 

Despite his heavy eyelids, sleep did not come easy. Even thinking took too much effort.

Thus, he lay motionless. Existing in an expiating realm of his own personal purgatory as he waited for oblivion.

There was a knock at the door. He turned his head.

"It's open."

Aya strode in swiftly and silently, displaying a disconcerting lack of mindfulness for propriety. Not that he had any right to complain.

"Is it wise to leave your room unlocked?"

Arthur shrugged. "Should I be worried?"

"You should be careful," she said, a coy smile tugging at her lips. "If I had less than savory intentions..."

"Then I'd be just as vulnerable as I am now," Arthur said, smirking.

Aya chuckled. "At least you're aware."

He rolled to the side with a grunt and sat at the edge of the bed. "It's unusual for you to visit this late. Is there any news about the interrogation?"

Aya shook her head. "The council will have a meeting tomorrow to discuss the details. I've only reported my own accounts so far."

Arthur sighed and ran a hand through his hair. His features darkened. "I hope you're right about Mica. We can't afford to lose any more lances." 

The bed shifted as Aya took a seat beside Arthur. "I've known her for a long time. No one can pretend to be that obnoxious."

"I'm sensing history."

Aya rolled her eyes. "There's never a dull moment with her around."

"I think I know what you mean." He thought about the rambunctious behavior of the older lance and her eccentric personality. "She's not that bad, is she?"

"I swear she lives for the sole purpose of making my life a living hell. She's just so..." Aya made a complicated gesture with her hands and groaned. 

It was a rare sight to see her so aggrieved. 

The elven lance sighed and composed herself.

"There was something else I wanted to talk to you about." 

He looked at her intently, noticing the deeper inflection of her tone.

Aya crossed her legs and rested her hands on top of her knee. "You were there with her, weren't you? During her last moments."

His eyes widened. The question was not something he expected.

"I was..." he said, looking down at the floor.

How could he forget? 

"I just wanted to say thank you. For being there with her."

His hands clenched the sheets. "It was pure luck; a coincidence. If only I could have gotten there faster..."

Aya shook her head. "She would have sacrificed herself before she allowed a child to get in harm's way."

"I could have helped."

"You would have died."

Arthur sighed and shut his eyes, trying to block out the haunting memory of her frightened figure. It was no use.

"She was like a sister to me. We've been together for as long as I can remember." Aya stared ahead, her smile gone and her features solemn.

"I'm sorry," he said, feeling the guilt grow with each passing second.

A shoulder nudged him gently on the side. "Don't be. I would have wanted someone to be there for me too when my time comes."

"I'll make sure it doesn't come to that," he said.

Aya stifled a laugh with her hand. "You're quite reliable for your age, aren't you?"

He smiled back. "My age doesn't correlate well with these things but... I may be in over my head."

Her hand came up and tousled his hair. "We might be out of our depths, but we're not alone. Don't forget that."

He melted underneath her touch. "Thank you, Aya."

She gave him something that resembled a genuine smile for once. "You should get some rest."

"I doubt I'll be able to at this point," he said, rubbing his eye.

Aya glanced over her shoulder, looking thoughtful.

"I can help with that. Lay down for me."

"W-what?" A blush crept up his face.

"Trust me."

Realizing that it was pointless to argue, Arthur did as he was told and gingerly leaned down on the bed.

"Close your eyes."

He felt her presence next to him. A moment later, it vanished entirely.

Just as he was about to chance a peek, he heard a sound—a soft, melodic humming. It thrummed in his head, a gentle tune that soothed his aching pain. His body relaxed, captivated by the high and low notes, lulling him into the depths of his consciousness.

"It was her favorite lullaby. Something she always sang when we were younger."

Aya's voice resonated like a whisper in his ears. It had a smooth, silky quality that was pleasant and pacifying.

Then he heard another voice. One he hasn't heard in a long, long time...

"Thank you, Arthur."

He hadn't misheard. It was definitely her voice.

"Alea..."

His lips quivered ever so slightly after he uttered her name. Both their voices echoed, blending together in a harmony of two light, mellow lyrics.

His breaths came out longer, slower. His breathing evened.

Before long, he found himself adrift in a dream.

"Goodnight, Arthur," Aya said, closing the door.

.

.

.

A/N: Haven't written in third-person for a long time. The pacing felt a little rushed but given how short it was, I guess it makes sense. I'm definitely rusty, but it's kind of fun to experiment with these short in-between moments. Going to be trying out some old writing styles instead of just first-person. 

(Wonder if I'll ever write anything happy for once... Doubt it...)