TBATE: A Hero's Return

Something Is Different

Intimacy is insinuated in this chapter, but nothing explicit is mentioned. This is a plot-heavy chapter, so it is purposely not intended to be mature in nature despite its content in order to remain accessible.

TESSIA ERALITH

It's the middle of the night, and no one was awake at the time. I rolled my shoulders from the mental exhaustion and pent-up stress from the day's activities before heading back to my own room. On top of my desk was a dinner laid out and prepared by the maids hours ago. It was likely cold and stale by now, but I sat down to eat it nonetheless. I didn't want to disturb anyone that might be sleeping now.

As soon as I sat down and took off the metal dome-like lid covering a plate of blackened salmon and asparagus, I heard a knock on my door. Crossing over to open it, I am surprised to see that it's Art.

"Hey," he said, smiling warmly at me.

"Hey," I said, pulling the door open.

I watched him as he walked inside. It's been nearly a week since I last saw him. He had been on an impromptu vacation in Alacrya spending time with his family, and he still had a week left before he was expected back. I felt touched that he had come back to see me during this time.

Art still looked worn and exhausted from his duties, but also seemed perfectly calm, with nothing left of the shaking desperation I had seen him with when we last spoke. I had wondered at the back of my mind for the last week if he took his vacation now in order to avoid me, feeling embarrassed at our last meeting.

Whatever he was feeling or thinking the last time didn't matter though. There's nothing of that today.

He came to a stop by the table, looking down at the food on my plate. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

"It's fine," I said. The fish was cold and the asparagus was soggy anyways. It wasn't like I was missing anything by skipping it.

"At least finish eating," he said. "I can wait."

He sat across from me. Yes, we have spent many a night in this room, many of which had one of us sprawled across this very table. But seeing him remove his outwear and hang it on the back of his chair is something entirely different. His coat off him, my eyes take in his attire and the sight made me feel like something was alarmingly different about him.

Arthur usually only had two types of wear: battle or formal attire. But today he was dressed in fairly pedestrian Alacryan attire. Jeans and a soft-looking flannel shirt rolled up to his elbows don't make him look any less enticing than usual, but it also was not a look I had ever seen him wear in the more than two decades I had known him.

I gestured at my plate before speaking. "Do you want anything, Art?"

He shook his head. "No, thanks. I've already eaten."

"You're better?" I asked, my eyes lingering on his hands where he has them folded on the table. I still remember them shaking and fidgeting violently the last time I had seen him.

"Yes," he said, flexing his fingers. "Just like new. I guess I just needed a little rest."

He casually refilled my glass of water with a simple movement as if to prove it. While I knew the display was something he wouldn't have been able to do in his earlier state, I can't help but feel like he's lying about something.

It hurt that he was keeping secrets from me, but I decided to let it go.

We fell into silence as I ate. We always were comfortable just being with one another, no need to talk or have a conversation.

"I'm heading out in the morning," he said after a while, fingers tapping against the table.

"Yeah?" He occasionally told me when he's going to be gone for an extended period, but infrequently enough that this struck me as an anomaly. I don't need to know where he is every hour of the day. He had his own life and duties, and I had my own. But he was already on vacation. What was the need to tell me now?