These Words - EnnD88 - Palia (Video Game) [Archive of Our Own] (2024)

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

“Nervous?”

Hassian’s wide eyes drew away from the gathered crowd and focused instead on Inara. She knew he struggled with people, especially this many of them, but he squeezed her hand lightly and quietly answered, “less so, with you here now.”

She gave a little squeeze back and drew close, distracting him for a moment by going onto tiptoes to press a kiss to his forehead. She discreetly slipped a little note into a pocket for him to find later and drew away with a smile as Hassian composed himself and cleared his throat. The sweet kiss and moment enveloped in her scent had both flustered and grounded him, helping fortify him for his return to the gathered crowd.

“The hunt is about to begin,” he declared, loud enough for those nearby to hear and ready their bows. Then quieter, just for her, he added, “I’m sure you won’t let me down. Go forth and face the chapaa menace for me. I’ll come find you when it’s over.”

She tried not to giggle again as she headed away. It was adorable and hilarious to her just how seriously he took The Chapaa Threat, but then she had seen first hand how suspiciously intelligent they seemed to be. Not only did they understand that Hassian was a hunter, and target him relentlessly, they seemed to know how to target him. They didn’t chew through his bowstrings or steal his food or pee on his sleeping mat - they tore love poems from his journal and scattered them about the bay. They navigated his lockbox to steal letters from his long-passed momma, letters it would destroy him to lose. Just as plumehounds could understand speech, it seemed chapaas could understand the written word, and could use that knowledge surprisingly cruelly.

And so she took the hunt just as seriously as he did, even if she did still snicker at the serious scowl that took over his face whenever they were mentioned. One arrow, one chapaa. Inara had challenged herself to use no more than 30 for the entire hunt, with a secondary goal of no more than 25. If she won, she’d treat herself and Hassian to a feast of chapaa masala and asada tacos, maybe some just simply grilled as luscious steaks. The surplus was destined for sale, but with the influx the locals were about to get from the great hunt, there’d be plenty for them to keep and do something indulgent with.

Her third target, she found a note wrapped and tied to her arrow. When did he…?

“As the sun rises, know that my heart soars also at the thought of you,” it read. She smiled and blushed a little at the sweet gesture, suddenly embarrassed by her own meagre “you look especially cute today” by comparison, but hey. Hassian was the poet, not her.

The chapaa had moved on, so she took a moment before she picked up the trail again. She pulled out her little notepad and scribbled, “forget the chapaas, I’m hunting for a kiss from you.” She folded it into a puffy star and left it in the middle of the trail, confident that he would find it later. Or Tau would, and Hassian would get it covered in slobber. Or maybe a chapaa would decide it was a tasty snack. Eh, it’s the thought that counts.

Nine chapaa’s in nine arrows, and Tau came bounding from the tree line to fetch the kill for her.

“Good boy, Tau,” she praised, and gave him a little dried meat as a treat and some well deserved love and attention. She wasn’t exactly surprised to see another note tucked into his collar.

“How am I meant to concentrate on the hunt, when all I can think of is finding my way back to your side?”

“Can’t focus either. Your cute face is distracting me,” she wrote back, and Tau took it with a lolling grin as though he knew what they were doing.

An hour passed. “With each heartbeat I feel the memory of your touch” was waiting for her on a large leaf overhanging her trail.

“U + Me = <3” she left in twigs on a tree stump where chapaa’s often congregated.

Twenty chapaas and she stopped at a hunter’s blind for lunch. “In the silence of the forest, your voice echoes like a melody in my thoughts” was waiting for her there, laying under a small rock on her seat.

He had to be close. The vantage point of the blind gave her the advantage, surely she could-

Inara didn’t see him, only a moment of light reflecting off of his arrow as he shot out a chapaa with such stealth, the kill didn’t even alert the other creatures around beside it.

“Catch me if you can hotshot,” she scribbled quickly, impaled it on an arrowhead, and hurriedly fired it at the next chapaa. Not to hit it, but to startle it, to scare it away before the other hunter could take his next perfect shot.

Hassian appeared from his hiding spot as the rest of the chapaas scattered, an annoyed expression lining his features as he looked for the culprit. She ducked into the blind, but knew he wouldn’t see her regardless, the spot was too well concealed for him to see into it even though he knew its exact location.

Instead, Hassian turned his attention to the intruder arrow. In spite of himself, he smiled when he saw the note on the arrowhead, and his cheeks flushed a gorgeous dark shade when he read it. He looked around studiously to the blind again… then slunk back away into the trees on the far side of the clearing.

Knowing she only had moments to move, Inara abandoned her lunch for a quick getaway, dropping to the grass softly and scanning for Hassian’s direction of approach. Almost instantly, he was on her. One lithe leg swept hers out from under her and his steel-strong arms controlled her fall, and that was it, the hunter’s prey was felled.

She grinned up at him and he smiled in turn, and leaned down to growl, “I caught you.”

Inara blamed the way his words rang through her body, or the closeness, or the adrenaline of the hunt, but times like this made her question her commitment to doing things The Proper Way with her darling hunter. Still, when Hassian’s forehead rested gently on hers, it was easy to keep her hands to herself. Their conduct was important to him, it mattered to him that they treated each other a certain way, she wasn’t going to do anything to ruin that tenderness for him.

“We’re supposed to be hunting chapaa’s, not each other,” he chided her lightly.

“I’m nearly done,” she promised.

“I was done an hour ago.”

“Liar!” There’s no way he was that fast.

The look of mildly offended confusion he gave Inara left her in no doubt, though. Hassian had many qualities one might call unsavoury, but he very rarely lied. When he did it was something small - what he was thinking of or who he spoke to, as though he expected to be punished for the truth. She knew why, she didn’t push it. Regardless, she knew he wasn’t lying now.

She gave the side of his mouth the very lightest of kisses and said, “you never cease to amaze me with your skill. I’ll never be as good as you.”

“You’ve been here less than a year,” he reminded her as he rose and offered an arm to help her up. “I’ve trained for this my whole life.”

Fair point.

“No more notes until we’re done,” she promised with playful solemnity. She giggled when Hassian immediately checked his pockets to see if she’d slipped something in there while she was pinned. “And no more scaring off your game.”

“Good.” Still, he took her hand, the touch electrifying as he pressed her knuckles to his lips. “We’ll have plenty of time together later.”

26 arrows. One was spent playing with Hassian, after all. Inara made the feast anyway. Full and content, under the blanket of a moonlit sky, the pair nestled side by side in Hassian’s grove, Tau dozing behind them. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of heartwood and wildflowers, and above them, the stars glinted like diamonds scattered in a black velvet canvass of night.

Hassian broke the silence with a soft sigh. "Isn't it incredible, how the stars seem to come alive in our quiet little corner?"

“Mmm.” Inara nuzzled his shoulder and sought out the lovers in the sky.

“And yet no matter how far we travel, the same stars will always watch over us.”

Inara hummed again in agreement, her eyes flickering to Hassian. “And thus they tell our story. My hunter. My Dunn.” She whispered the words so softly they blended into the rustle of leaves in the breeze. Only for him.

He reached for Inara’s hand, their fingers intertwining as naturally as ivy wove into oak as he turned and whispered “my Nyota” into her hair. “I could stay here forever.”

“And we will,” Inara whispered back. “In the stars.”

They returned to silence under the familiar comfort of the night sky, eyes closed and senses wrapped in each other. Eventually, Hassian pulled away, just a little, reaching into his pack to fetch another slip of paper. This one had been left days ago, but it had fallen into the bottom of Hassian’s quiver, it must have taken him that long to find it.

“You’re the brightest star in my sky,” the note read. Inara remembered it well. “Cheesy, I know,” she admitted out loud.

“And yet, like the stars, I know your words shine bright and true.”

Thus they stayed, wrapped together, their fingers intertwined and their hearts connected under the vast expanse of the night sky. A moment of solace and joy in the simple blessing of being together.

Chapter 2

Chapter Text

Inara woke as she often did these days, tangled with Tau and Hassian in the pre-dawn light, overwhelmingly happy and toasty warm in spite of the cool morning air. She stretched and yawned, checking if the others would rise with her and smirking to herself when they barely stirred.

She saw too that, as was often the case, Hassian had piled the blankets onto her and Tau as he’d dozed off, and now he lay curled tight and clearly freezing cold, hugging himself in his sleep as the first dew of the morning threatened his comfort further.

Inara sat up and carefully tucked her blankets over him. He startled ever so slightly, but didn’t wake. His eyes flickered half-open, just for a moment, but all it took was a bleary glance at her face and a soft “shhh” to send him completely back to sleep. He’d actually started sleeping later in the mornings since she’d begun staying over, and he wasn’t even complaining about it.

She quietly rose and started making breakfast. Their first night together, Hassian had risen first and prepared grilled meat for her.

“I’m a morning person,” he’d told her gruffly as she took the meal. His arms crossed defensively in front of his chest as though awaiting her disapproval.

“Don’t worry, so am I,” she answered with a yawn. “I just need to update my definition of ‘morning.’”

He’d drawn his chin up and stated, “I make no apologies.”

“I ask for none,” she reassured him with a happy sleepy smile. “If I wanted to sleep in, I would have slept at home.”

His reaction was small, but it spoke volumes. The way his tucked-in hand moved to his arm and his shoulders slumped forward, changing his defensive crossed arms to a small hug. The way his cautious scowl shifted to a subtle smile and his eyes softened, and his head ducked shyly. A dozen tiny things that changed the entire conversation. People often complained about his cross and quiet nature, but he didn’t need words to tell her that was the first moment he loved her.

Since then she had learned two things about him - one, Hassian was not a morning person, he just liked to get up early when the world was still quiet, and two, he had not, in fact, trained himself not to feel the cold. The more she got to know him, the more she realised just how prone he was to posturing, trying to fit into the role that society, tradition, and even the stars had told him to be.

Hassian would sleep for another hour yet, so she took her time to carve thin slices of chapaa meat and fry them with butter and spice sprouts. She rehydrated some of the dried mushrooms he kept handy and added some crushed heat root for a little extra fire, and left the mixture to steam and stay warm until he started to stir. She greeted him with hot and spicy tacos wrapped in soft tortillas this time, and, fire-warmed, she slid back under the blankets beside him. They cuddled together to chase away any lingering chill, then ate in silence, tangled together like puppies, and rose as one for their morning hunt. It wasn’t until they left the grove that either of them spoke.

“It’ll be lonely without you,” Hassian lamented, his fingertips catching her hand just before they parted.

Inara gave him a relaxed smile, her eyes soft and affectionate, and she returned to stand in front of him. “And I without you,” she echoed, and nuzzled her nose alongside his, their foreheads resting together again. They both knew the pangs wouldn’t stop them parting, they had things to do, but it was nice for both of them to hear that they were wanted, that they would be missed. One day she’d convince Hassian to take some time off, to stay home from his duties. To stay with her and watch the clouds instead of the stars.

He shyly kissed her forehead as they parted once again, blushing slightly as he gave her that same ducking smile he’d given her their first night together. “Until your path leads you back to me, then.”

Inara’s smile widened, and she slunk away for her hunt.

They had enough chapaa meat and skins to last them a year, but the fluffy little bastards had made it personal. They’d all but exterminated them south of the aqueduct, at least for the moment (Inara knew they’d be back all too soon), so she decided to see what was left in northern Bahari instead. There weren’t as many of them up there, but there were enough to check the area.

Hodari wasn’t up yet to say good morning to, but Najuma was still in her workshop, tinkering away with something. Inara cleared her throat as she approached and tapped lightly on the outside wall, and yet still somehow managed to startle the young engineer.

“O-oh! It’s you,” she said when her eyes fixed on Inara in the early morning light. “Hi.” She waved and returned to her project.

“Hey, Juju. Please tell me this is an early morning and not a late night?”

The side-eyes Najuma gave her said she probably didn’t want to know.

“Well can you at least tell me you’re going to bed soon-ish?”

Again, the look said it all.

“Ugh, fine. Here, at least have some breakfast.” Inara fished out a leftover taco from her backpack. She’d been planning to have it for lunch but honestly, chapaa three meals in a row was a bit much even for her. “I’ll steal an apple from the garden, okay?”

Najuma nodded, took the taco eagerly and tucked in. She had a bad habit of working through the night without food, then gorging herself at breakfast and succumbing to the carb coma shortly afterwards. Inara didn’t say it, but she rather hoped the warm food would nudge Juju toward bed.

Inara bid her goodbye and continued on, past the aqueduct to the northern forest. Sure enough, the chapaas here were largely undisturbed. She took out several while they looked for their breakfast. She would gift most of them to Hodari on her way back, the rest could go to Reth. Neither of them minded doing their own butchery, and both would make good use of the meat.

She was about to turn and head back when she heard a familiar sound… the tingling of flow, of a proudhorn teleporting nearby. Inara froze and carefully scanned about to find the beast, and spotted it quickly as it wove between two trees in search of a meal. Inara felt in her quiver for the flow-infused dispel arrow, mentally mapping her fine arrows too so she knew where to reach quickly for the follow up attack. She nocked the arrow, drew the bowstring taut, and-

Footsteps alerted the beast, and with another tingling zap, it was gone.

“Oooooh,” a falsely saccharine voice cooed from behind a tree. “If it isn’t the hunter’s latest catch.”

What the f*ck is Tamala doing out this early?

“What do you want, Tamala?” Inara asked, her tone a warning. She stood her ground as Tamala prowled over to her, looking every part the predator Inara knew she was.

Tamala circled behind her and leaned over her shoulder. “And hello to you too.”

“Hello, and goodbye.” Inara turned south, her skin prickling.

“Oh come on darling, don’t be like that.”

Tamala caught Inara’s wrist to stop her, and Inara’s instincts flared at the danger. Her body almost took over, almost lunged at Tamala, almost took that hand away from her permanently… but she stopped herself. Tamala wasn’t worth the trouble she’d get in, the trouble she’d bring to Hassian’s door.

Tamala continued in her lilting tone, “I was actually going to ask you for a little help. You see, I’ve had a terrible cough lately.” She paused to give a cough so fake it would have been comical if she wasn’t so sinister. “Oh, if only I could get a few spice sprouts, hmm? That would clear my throat up, certainly….”

Inara didn’t know what Tamala wanted the spice for, but she knew it wasn’t for a damned tea. It wasn’t for anything good or innocent. And worse, the woman was spreading over her like a rash, the hand on her wrist remaining while her other hand rested on Inara’s shoulder. Tamala leaned into her until her face was so close to Inara they could almost kiss or bite each other.

“Tamala,” Inara answered with very intentional control. “Your cough will be the least of your worries if you don’t get off me.”

Her eyes bored into Tamala’s for a minute, a silent stalemate as each weighed the others’ bluff, but Tamala yielded first.

“Suit yourself,” she conceded in a tone that almost sounded like a threat. “Oh, do say hi to Hassian for me.”

It was all Inara could do to keep herself from turning back around and putting an arrow in that witch’s smug face.

Chapter 3

Chapter Text

Inara all but threw her haul of chapaas at Hodari in her rush to get home. Well, back to Hassian’s grove, but- away from everything else. Back to him. She wasn’t sure when ‘Hassian’ and ‘home’ became synonymous but they were and she wanted them.

He had his back to Inara when she entered. She saw his head tilt to the side as he listened, his nostrils flared, but when he greeted her, unseen, it was with a harsh, “what do you want?”

Inara halted so fast her heel dug into the dirt a little. He hadn’t spoken to her like that since… she could hardly remember. She wasn’t sure he ever had. Not with that kind of hatred.

“Huh?”

Hassian spun around, eyes wide with surprise as he realised who she was. Shock flickered to confusion, then settled into guilt. “Oh,” he said softly as she drew closer. “Apologies, I thought- I thought you were someone else.”

She rested her hand on his cheek and tried to meet his eye, worried. “Who did you think I was?”

Hassian didn’t answer right away. He turned his face into her hand and breathed deep, the way he did sometimes when he needed to settle, when the world got overwhelming, but this time the gesture only coiled him tighter.

“Why do you smell like Tamala?”

“Oh.” Oh sh*t. She hadn’t considered that. “I… I bumped into her in the woods just now,” she explained, flustered.

“Don’t lie to me.”

Anger ignited in her belly, hot and ugly. “I’m not lying.” She tried to set aside the re-emerging part of her that had all but run here in search of Hassian, eager to have his touch cleanse her of Tamala’s hands. She tried to focus on him, on the panic in his eyes you could only see if you knew to look for it.

“I can smell her perfume all over you,” Hassian countered, his own voice all but descended into a snarl of pain and anger. “You didn’t just ‘bump into her’ Inara. Don’t…don’t lie to me. Did you go to see her? Why?”

“Of course I didn’t!” she snapped back. She knew he was scared but he wasn’t going to settle with his head up his ass. Voice firm and clear she told him, “I smell like her perfume because she has no concept of personal space and appropriate boundaries! She was rubbing her hands all over my arm, it was… ngghh. ”

“I- I… I don’t know,” he admitted quietly as his mind cleared. “I’m sorry, my Nyota. I should have known better than to doubt you.”

He looked up at her with his eyes, head still ducked, waiting to be chastised for his offence, but of course such treatment was never going to come. Not from her. She wasn’t angry with him. She wasn’t. But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

“Yeah, you should have,” she agreed, forcing herself to stand still and face him. From a safe distance downwind. “But I get it. It’s okay, I’m over it.” Or she would be once she could get back to her house and bathe. And maybe boil her arm.

He looked up at her, seeking the truth in her eyes, but she looked away towards the path to Kilima. She knew he had other things to do.

Inara picked up her post, watered her neglected crops, and seriously considered burning her outfit. She threw them aside into the courtyard to judge later, and all but dove into her bath for the hottest, most thorough scrub she could tolerate. It didn’t help.

She got out of the tub and made lunch because she knew she had to eat no matter how sick she felt. She managed a few bites, but the slug feeling hadn’t abated, so she sipped hot tea instead to try and burn it out. That didn’t help either.

Inara needed something to do. Something she could do in the house, preferably. She’d already tended her garden... Cooking, maybe? Smelting, repair her tools… something? She couldn’t just lean on the kitchen counter and feel sorry for herself all day, it was already past noon and so far all she’d done was dump a week’s supply of chapaa on Hodari.

She rubbed her face and sighed, and begrudgingly headed out, but halted at what she saw. Hassian’s rough paper, folded and slipped under the front door. No envelope, no Auni, no mailbox - this was hand delivered with the greatest of stealth whilst she was distracted. This was just for them.

“My Nyota,

“I’m sorry. Today I assumed the worst of you, I assumed something was true that I never should have even thought possible. Worse, I was cruel to you. I know as surely as I know the stars that you wouldn’t betray what we have, I know as surely as I know your scent from hers that she sought you out and not the other way around. I don’t know why I thought otherwise, and I’m truly sorry. You say you are not angry, and I trust that, but I am. You deserve so much more.

“Forgive my cowardice in the delivery of this letter, I wasn’t sure if you wanted to see me. Please know, though, that I’ll be at the grove when you wish to return. Mother and Auni will understand my absence.

“Always, your Dunn.“

Chapter 4

Chapter Text

Bahari was busy with people running errands when Inara reached the familiar hillside. It made her prickle and roll her shoulders - she wanted Hassian, that didn’t mean she wanted to socialise. She slipped into the half-hidden grove silently, making only enough noise to alert the pair inside, but not saying anything in greeting.

Hassian was busy processing one of the chapaas leftover from the hunt, he barely reacted to her presence, and for a moment Inara wanted to check if it was okay to be there. This was his space, after all, no matter how much it might feel like theirs. But no. If he’d not wanted her to come, he wouldn’t have invited her. And she could see by the tension in his shoulders that he was carrying shame more than distaste at her presence. He wasn’t silently willing her to leave.

Tau was staying out of it, clever boy that he was. He quietly gnawed a knot of hide in the back of the cave, growling to himself as he played with his treat.

Hassian stood aside from the pool, in a little downward slope where any runoff from the butchery wouldn’t make its way into the water, his gaze fixed intently on the familiar meticulous task of peeling pelt from flesh, cutting away at the membranes that bound them together. His movements were deliberate, almost mechanical, betraying the storm raging within him as he desperately sought peace with his hands.

Inara knelt to take a chapaa of her own beside Hassian, but as she did he moved away, taking his newest pelt to the rack to stretch it out. Her eyes followed him, worried and annoyed in equal measure. If anyone should be avoiding anyone, she should be avoiding him. He was the one who was supposed to be sorry, after all.

But he wasn’t avoiding her, she knew that. He was giving her space. Space she hadn’t asked for, and desperately didn’t want. Her brow furrowed and she turned her attention to the cleaned chapaa he had left behind, digging her knife into the socket of the hind leg and twisting until the joint popped. As though the animal was a stand-in for Tamala herself, as though dismantling it could assuage some of what she felt.

She threw the haunch into the bucket she usually stored cuts for sale in, but realised too late that Hassian had been using it for scrapings and entrails. She glanced up at him in time to catch the mild scowl he tried to hide, and she opened her mouth to apologise, but the air was still too thick with tension, with things left unsaid. Who knew what a simple ‘sorry’ would lead to? She moved to correct her error and retrieve the meat, but he was already moving to do the same, so she left it alone for him.

The air crackled with tension as they worked. Hassian kept his distance even when he finished his job at the rack, coming back to the prep table but working so close to the far edge that if he wasn’t careful, he’d end up working on the floor. Inara wanted to say something, to reassure him it was unnecessary, maybe even to tell him he was being silly, but nothing she could say would be well received.

He reached into the middle of the table for one cleaned carcass just as she laid out another, and their hands touched momentarily in passing. Hassian’s hand flinched when their fingers brushed, recoiling from the tiny comfort as though unsure he was allowed it. Inara was ashamed to admit it, but so did she. She hadn’t realised how tight and tense she was. He glanced in her direction in silent apology, but still wouldn’t meet her eye, and carefully took the chapaa so as not to touch her again.

They continued their work in strained silence, their movements stiff and awkward with unspoken apologies as they tried to avoid each other. Hassian relaxed a little as the minutes turned into hours, Inara a little more, but neither spoke.

They worked well together, they always had. Dress, skin, butcher… It was methodical, meditative. What started as an awkward bump in the middle of the prep table soon enough smoothed out, finishing her part of the process in time for him to take over. The next time their fingers brushed he only tensed a moment, and when she didn’t draw back, he didn’t either. He gave her an unsure glance and she answered with a tentative smile, and she handed him the chapaa’s directly after that.

When all that was left for them to do was to stretch the furs on the tanning racks and put the surplus meat into the smoke tent, they parted ways comfortably to do their respective tasks. As the last rays of sunlight faded from the sky, casting the grove into twilight, they ran out of work to do. They cleaned in silence because now words weren’t needed, it was natural and comfortable once again as they anticipated each other’s needs and movement. One dealt with the last of the entrails while the other cleaned the work table. One carefully brought a bucket of fresh water for them to wash themselves while the other fed Tau, ever-patient, some choice cuts of leftovers. One checked airflow for the tanners, the other checked the smoke tent for leaks, each proofing the other’s work. One stoked the fire for dinner, the other fetched the water; one chose the meat, the other prepped the herbs.

And finally, with nothing else to distract them, they stood before each other, each fidgeting to reach out, to touch and comfort and be held, to love and loved, each waiting for the other to do it first, to give permission. To give forgiveness.

Inara moved first. She rested her hands on his arms and he didn’t pull away, and she drew closer as his wanting eyes sought hers. Her fingers moved to his face, stroking his temple and alongside his eyes, blocking out the world, and he tentatively perched his hands on her waist. Tears pestered her as a day’s hurt and anger melted away under the warmth of his touches. Even in his worry, Hassian seemed to understand. He stepped closer so that their feet wove between each other and his hands stroked gently up her back to her arms and shoulders, and she rested her forehead on his and closed her eyes, bidding him do the same.

Hassian’s lips parted and Inara watched words form and die in his mouth. He tried again, as though he thought the right words could fix everything, could undo the hurt they’d accidentally caused each other. There was so much he wanted to tell her. Wound tight as a bow string, his mouth opened again, tried again, but still the words wouldn’t come. He wanted to apologise, but it would always feel inadequate to him. He wanted to explain, or tell her he loved her. He wanted to share a hundred stories and memories and nightmares and dreams, and hopes and desires and fantasies and fears. He wanted to share them all with her, his Nyota, his love, but one fear or another prevented him each time, and the words wouldn’t come, so she spoke instead.

“I know.”

Inara whispered it into the silence and love in the inch between their lips, enjoying how Hassian’s forehead creased as he looked to her again. She didn’t need to open her eyes to know his held a silent question, a prayer for forgiveness. She answered it with a reassuring smile and stroked his cheek once more, and she relaxed at last into his embrace as the first stars twinkled to life in the twilight.

Chapter 5

Chapter Text

Inara’s shoulder ached painfully when she woke the next morning. The reason why quickly became apparent; her arm was numb and her shoulder pulled taut because her beloved hunter was laying on it. Not just resting his head upon it, oh no - it seemed at some point in the night he’d decided that her arm was his now. He’d taken a hold of it in his sleep and rolled so it was tucked under his arm, crushed by his toned torso and held to his chest like a child’s stuffed toy. Specifically, it was the arm Tamala had previously laid hands on. Inara giggled in spite of the pain and cuddled close to his back.

She remembered the first night she’d spent with them, how Hassian had folded his arms and watched her warily as she combined their sleeping rugs to make one large area.

“I hope you’re not proposing anything improper,” he stated in a tone that most would interpret as hostile or disinterested. That couldn’t be further from the truth. Hassian was no blushing virgin, but intimacy with someone he actually liked was new. he didn’t want to do it wrong.

“Of course not,” she told him with a laugh, and spread out over the rugs as though she would claim the whole space for herself.

Tau slept between them that night, and Hassian perched on the very edge of the mat for another week afterward. Inara had just slept on her side, bemused, and waited for him to inevitably relax. Night nine, he finally started to settle. Morning ten, she woke in his arms, his limbs tangled around her and holding her close. That was how they’d slept ever since.

Inara hummed happily and nuzzled the back of Hassian’s neck, and he slowly started to rouse. He tried to roll over to face her and only then did he notice the arm he had claimed and killed. He untangled himself while Inara giggled, sheepishly tucking the stolen arm back against her body protectively. In silent apology, his eyes darted to meet hers.

She laughed again and headbutted him lightly. “It’s okay, it was cute.” Hassian didn’t protest his cuteness anymore, Inara was proud to report. “What are our plans today?”

The playful mood they’d woken to cooled almost at once, though Inara couldn’t say why.

“I have nothing but you, this morning,” he answered, avoiding her eyes. “There’s a night hunt I must attend later, though.”

That was the first she’d heard of it, but Inara grinned nonetheless. “Ooh, what are we hunting?”

“We’re not.” He tried to hide the tension in those two words. He awkwardly added after a moment, “it’s a private lesson.”

Hassian wasn’t one to give private lessons, or to let anyone disturb his routine. They’d spent plenty of nights apart since she all but moved to the grove, it wasn’t exactly a big deal for him to kick her out if he wanted a night to himself, but… this didn’t feel like that.

She stretched her aching arm and wrapped it up and over Hassian’s head, bringing the other hand to rest on his jaw. He lay tense in her arms, face to her chest, seemingly waiting for her response.

Inara was patient, but she wasn’t in the habit of pandering to his flaws. There was plenty they didn’t tell each other, but lying was different.

“You don’t have to tell me the truth,” she reassured him, her hand on his jaw stroking back as she spoke, pushing his locs from his face. She felt the guilt radiate from him already. “But please don’t lie to me. Tell me it’s personal, tell me to mind my business, but don’t lie.”

“It’s personal,” he echoed.

“Okay.” She stroked his head again, the matter resolved. “I’ll sleep at my house tonight, and see you in the morning?” Hassian nodded, still tight and tense. She didn’t begrudge him his privacy, but it still stung that he felt he needed it. Moreso that he still sounded like he expected her to punish him for the lie.

Hassian carried that tension through the day. His hunt was distracted, his time with mother unproductive, Auni’s game was all but silent, and Maji protect the humans who came to him for lessons. Inara had already gone home when he started back to the grove. He missed the chance to bid her goodnight, but it was probably for the best.

He sent Tau back to the grove and made his way to the cliffs above Bahari Central stables, where Tamala went each evening to collect her mail. Hassian had never found out the reason Auni didn’t venture to her house, but he was thankful for it; Tamala’s realm was no place for children.

In the embrace of night, he waited, coiled tight and low to the ground as he crouched by a towering heartwood tree. He breathed slow and deliberate as the hours passed. The earthy scent of moss and damp leaves filled the air, and he swore he smelled a hint of Tamala’s perfume before she appeared from the woods. A few humans came to speak with her, a few others came and went from the stables. He waited, his camouflage blended seamlessly with the shadows. Waited until everyone was distracted by the flow storm and the grove, until Tamala began her leisurely stroll back to her house.

Hassian tightened his grip on the smooth, worn wood of his bow, his eyes fixed intently on the clearing ahead, on the spot he would shoot for. It would be so easy to do something else, he couldn’t help but think. To aim for a critter instead and ‘accidentally’ catch Tamala’s throat, to leave her choking on her blood as the distracted humans ran past her, the murder weapon buried in a dead chapaa.

She wasn’t worth it. Wasn’t worth the trouble it would bring to his door. To Inara’s door. Still, Tamala needed to know that her games wouldn’t be tolerated. He waited for her to pass the spot, just perfectly, and loosed the arrow at her. It grazed her shoulder just as he’d intended, the same side she’d touched Inara, and lodged itself perfectly in the tree he had aimed for.

Tamala flinched and hissed in pain at the deep scratch, then looked around for whoever had been so careless. Hassian stood and took a step forward, out of the shadows and towards the edge of his clifftop vantage, letting her see him. He met her eyes with nothing but rage and warning, all fear left behind with Inara.He couldn’t be sure if Tamala could see his face in the shade, but the way she paled as her eyes shifted to him told Hassian she’d understood the message perfectly well.

You will never touch Inara again. I will come for you if you do.

She fixed him with a withering glare, her lips downturned in a dangerous scowl, and she turned and stalked back to her cottage without a word, leaving the arrow there as a warning of what would happen should she ever cross that line again.

Chapter 6

Chapter Text

When Inara returned to the grove the next morning, she was greeted with a powerful gaze and fingers woven into her hair as soon as she was within arm’s reach. Hassian’s other hand went to her waist and he pulled her to him as though he needed her, immediately eager to rest his forehead on hers. She closed her eyes and leaned in against him, enjoying the closeness, the unusual assertiveness. Hassian wasn’t a man who often asked for what he needed, let alone simply reached out and took it, and Inara relished his moment of confidence.

They stayed like that for a full minute, listening to the grove around them and the soft breaths of the other. Her hands rested lightly around his waist, her fingers holding each other against his lower back, and he pressed subtly closer to her. He’d been breathing hard, she realised as he quieted with the passing time. As though something had been bothering him, and he’d been waiting for this to ground and calm him.

“What’s wrong?” She whispered, not opening her eyes or moving.

“Now? Nothing,” he answered, his voice a low rumble. He sighed all but silently and turned his face, not to move away but simply to move.

With anyone else, this would have been a kiss. His lips would have found hers and they would have stayed there for a minute more, holding each other as their mouths made love. She wouldn’t reach for it, or ask for it, she knew it was important to him to wait and she really didn’t mind, they had a million other ways to be close. Still, the thought flickered in her mind, and when Hassian finally opened his eyes and looked at her she saw it reflected there.

And then the apologies, and the explanations, and the guilt, and the fear of doing it wrong. She might not mind his wanting to wait, but sometimes he clearly did. It was all so familiar and Inara didn’t want to hear it again. She didn’t want to leave it with him, either.

In a moment of playful inspiration, she leaned in with a grin and bit his shoulder. Not hard, not trying to hurt him or to be sexy, just a little daft touch before she growled and darted back.

Hassian’s face shifted hilariously. There was the slightest flicker of betrayal that the tender moment had been interrupted, but then a look of confusion quickly took over his features. He scowled at her, jaw slack as he tried to figure out if she’d actually just bitten him.

She dashed away like Tau did when he wanted to play, so she shouldn’t have been surprised that the Plumehound was the first to respond. He barked at her happily and ran to intercept her and bow, butt up and tail wagging. Good enough, she thought. She dove to the ground to wrestle the oversized puppy, who nipped at her sleeve with a mock growl and pulled her hand to his belly as he flopped over.

Inara growled right back and gave him aggressive belly scritches as Tau squirmed in the hound equivalent of “ahhhh, noooo, she’s gotten meeeeee”. He cast his best puppy eyes to Hassian before leaping to his feet and tackling Inara once again. This time he carefully nipped at the closures on the front of her leather vest, using his mouthful to push and pull her off balance and knock her to her feet.

She pushed against his chest, trying to hold him back, but his joyful energy was too much and Inara was soon overwhelmed by slobbering puppy kisses. Tau barked triumphantly, a deep, cheerful sound that vibrated through the grove and at last stirred a response from the hunter watching them.

“What have you caught, Tau?” Hassian asked as he approached.

Tau lept off of her and pranced around proudly, barking like he would if he’d taken down a sernuk, alerting his master to the kill’s location. Amused, Hassian held out his hand to help her up.

“I think Tau won,” he teased her, eyes twinkling.

Inara responded by yanking on the arm he offered, pulling him off balance in an attempt to bring him to the ground as well, but he was too quick for her, too well trained. He fell, yes, but easily turned it into a controlled dodge away from her. He rose smoothly, arms raised in a practised wrestling stance before Inara had even picked herself off of the floor.

Inara giggled and mirrored his posture, her eyes narrowed as she tried to read him, to anticipate his moves. They circled each other as Tau yapped from the sidelines. Inara lunged but Hassian side-stepped her easily, smirking as he dodged away. He made it look so easy, his move completed flawlessly before Inara had even recovered her balance.

She charged him again and he side-stepped again, but this time he pivoted and caught her around the waist, lifting her off her feet before carefully dropping her to the ground. Inara squealed in delight and half-heartedly tried to wriggle free, but Hassian’s iron grip held her tight.

“Got you,” he growled, his body pressing closer to pin her in place. “You’re mine, now.”

“Don’t I know it,” Inara said with a giggle, hair dishevelled and cheeks flushed with excitement, and instead of trying to break free she looped her arms around his waist once more to hold him to her.

Hassian drew back enough to meet her eye, and again she saw that want there. With how close they were, she could practically feel it. The desire for something, anything. Just more.

Just kiss me, she wanted to say. She could see it, clear as the night sky over the grove, how much he wanted to, how his neck strained to keep his head from ducking down to brush his lips to hers. How his eyes focused on her mouth and his jaw hung slack, lips relaxed and breaths short from their play. Kiss me. It would be the most natural thing in the world.

Then she saw the shadows, the doubt creeping in behind his eyes, turning them from relaxed with desire to wide with worry. The need to do it ‘right’, to show Inara how much she mattered, how much he was willing to do or wait. She knew that wasn’t all of it, knew some of those shadows smelled of Tamala, had her form and her elegant claws. She knew he’d asked, without words, for time to untangle it all.

And then came the guilt for all the ways he felt he left her wanting. The sad little eyebrows as he looked down, arms tensing to pull away. It didn’t matter that she didn’t care - he still did. Still felt he was failing her for needing something she gave freely.

One of her hands caught him by the shirt to keep him there and the other touched his jaw, drawing his attention to her hand. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips to her palm instead.

With a tentative breath, he leaned in. His lips barely grazed hers at first, but when her grip on his shirt tightened, anchoring him in the moment, he settled into the kiss like a bird finally coming to nest. His warm breath mingled with hers as their lips moved together in silent reverence of each other, and as the kiss deepened she could feel what was left of his tension melting away, lingering dew evaporating in the sun’s warmth.

She hummed in agreement and nuzzled him back, and he lowered himself carefully to blanket her without crushing her, cuddling her protectively as she wrapped her arms around him, each held hidden away from the rest of the world.

Chapter 7

Chapter Text

Of course she did, and she kissed his jaw lightly and rested their foreheads together and dozed like that for another half hour. More and more of those moments had been coming, Inara noticed. Moments when Hassian would share something with her, clearly expecting to be hurt in some way, but he never was. She knew that, slowly, he was starting to believe he never would be. Each moment was small, with nothing of consequence said, but that was the point, wasn’t it? Those moments didn’t have to be big. Just a moment of their day and a touch to reassure. Someday the fear wouldn’t even need that.

When he next told her he needed a night alone, Inara didn’t think anything of it. Usually when he asked for hours alone like that it was so he could write, as though he feared she might somehow know what he was working on simply by being there.

She asked if everything was alright, he assured her it was, and she believed him, that was that. Even so, he lingered with her the morning before, came to find her that afternoon, and she wasn’t at all surprised to find a letter and a bottle of wine on her doorstep when she returned home.

“My Nyota,

“Someone gave me this in exchange for the proudhorn antlers we harvested last week. As you know, I don't imbibe, and I thought you'd like it more than mother. Apparently it's of significant quality and some value. Think of me as you enjoy it tonight.

“I shall see your face in the stars, until you stand before me again.

“Always, your Dunn”

She grinned, giddy, and hugged the letter close as she went inside, heading towards the bathroom to draw herself a hot soak.

That was the last thing she remembered.

Inara woke cold, wet, face down in dirt and tufts of grass at the bank of running water. Parts of her ached, what didn't ache felt numb. She moved her fingers gingerly, then her arm. The sleeve of her sodden shirt clung to her, making movement even more uncomfortable.

She tried to sit up, but as soon as she engaged her core, pain shot through her stomach. She grimaced and brought her frozen arms around her belly, hands shaking as she tried to check for injuries, but she knew the pain was internal. Not just internal but there . Low and deep, like menstrual cramps.

She thought of Hassian first. Of the wine. Surely he hadn't-?

Then shame flooded her. Whatever happened, he had nothing to do with it.

Then what...?

It didn't matter now. What mattered first was getting home. Where even was she?

She cracked her eyes against the blinding sun and looked around as best she could without moving her head, but nothing stood out. There was just grass, mud, water... and the waterfall. She carefully craned her head to look behind her and confirmed she was lying in the small stream between the two, on the gently sloping hill just south-east of the Thorny Thicket.

Just east of Tamala's house, the thought came unbidden. It... was certainly not something she would put past the witch. But how...?

It didn't matter. Just southeast of the Thorny Thicket meant just over a kilometre north of home. She could make that. Even feeling as bad as she did, it wouldn’t take her long, she’d be back with Hassian before he left for the village and-

No good will come of letting him see this, she realised.

It didn’t feel true, that going to him was the wrong choice. It didn’t feel right. Going to him felt like the natural thing to do.

But then what?

Obviously he’d want to know what had happened. What could she tell him? Even she didn’t know. He would believe her, she was sure, and he would trust her, especially now. But he’d believe it was the witch’s doing and go after her again. And he would probably be right, it was almost certainly her, but then what? Either Hassian confronted her and she retaliated again, or he didn’t and she won, or he tried and Tamala hurt him too, or-

Her thoughts sped up, jumbled together. A dozen bad things that would happen. A hundred others that could.

It took her several minutes to get to her knees, several more to get to her feet. Her steps were a painful wobble from one tree to the next. No one noticed. At least she hoped no one noticed. The humans usually didn’t, anyways - they were sweet, they meant well, but the Majiri saw the world around them in a way foreign to the humans. It was something she loved about them. Gods, she wanted to go to Hassian so badly.

Or maybe to Chayne? He would know what to do, he always had answers. Or she could go to Ashura for one of those hugs that made her feel like a living plushy. Or Reth - he’d sit her down in the storeroom with soup and a blanket and let her hide for as long as she needed, and he wouldn’t ask questions. f*ck, anyone. She was fine with her own company most of the time but feeling so alone right now with only her own skin was uniquely horrible. And lovely as Reth and Chayne and Ashura were, she didn’t want any of them. She wanted him.

Then she was at her house, sitting in a cold bath. She had no idea when that had happened. The last thing she remembered, she was halfway across Bahari, yet here she was. She uncurled from the water with a grimace, cold and stiff again. She avoided the mirror as she wrapped herself in a towel, refusing to look at herself. She could feel her injuries just fine, she didn’t need to see them too.

She should eat something. Get some rest. She stumbled into the kitchen but halted when she saw the bottle, even before she recognized it, like you’d halt if you saw a predator but didn’t know you were in danger yet. On instinct. Her stomach clenched as if to expel the imagined poison, and all thoughts of food left her.

She needed rest. Needed to go home. Knew she couldn’t.

She couldn’t see Hassian, he would know something was wrong. She had to stop and remind herself why she wasn’t just going to him and telling him everything. No good would come of it. She flopped into the bed instead.

She was on her own.

Her knickers were missing, and someone was at the door. Those were the two things that stuck in her head. She’d found her clothes next to the tub when she’d gone in later to clean up. Yesterday’s pants and shirt, socks and boots… but no underpants.

She picked up the offending garments, sniffed them to see if they smelled of anything. Tamala maybe? The thought made her stomach lurch but at least then she’d know for sure who was responsible. But no, they only smelled of her, and that made it worse.

It took her that long to realise she hadn’t woken wearing those clothes at the riverside. She wasn’t wearing pyjamas, either. At some point, for some reason, she had dressed herself- or someone else dressed me, she realised with a horrid shudder -in a new outfit.

Someone was still at the door. And her knickers were missing.

She’d been wearing them, she knew she had been. But now they weren’t there. Whatever had happened to her, whoever had done it, they’d kept her underwear. Inara had no idea how to feel about that.

She was standing in the doorway, door open and looking at Hassian, who looked back at her with obvious concern and confusion. She didn’t even remember going to the door, much less opening it. He was watching her with a scowl of concern, fists clenched loosely.

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” she insisted, which only made him scowl more.

“Very well. I was worried, that’s all. You don’t normally stay away from the grove for this long, and- well, Tau missed you.…”

Tau gave an obliging bark, flawlessly playing his part in Hassian’s projection as Inara glanced at the clock.

sh*t.

She’d thought from the light it was still dawn. It wasn’t - it was nearly night. Hassian had already been home and found her missing. He’d come looking for her because she’d been gone for more than 24 hours.

“Oh, um, I’m sorry. I just, um-” she hesitated, about to blame it on the wine he’d left her. She could say she drank the whole thing and woke up late and hungover.

Except she couldn’t, because he probably hadn’t sent it, right? Whatever that wine was, it was probably responsible for whatever happened to her. So it mustn’t have been from him.

Hassian stepped into the house, taking her arm lightly. He turned her so that her back was to the wall beside the front door and stood close to her, bodies all but pressed together as his feet interwove with hers. He cupped his hands around her face and brought their foreheads together, and her eyes closed as the world faded away, until there was only her and him. His scent, his breaths, his pulse under his skin, quick with concern.

“What’s wrong, my Nyota?” His tone was soft, desperate, comforting, painful, so many things under the surface, and yet all she could think of was the letter. Addressed to Nyota, from Dunn. She couldn’t tell him.

“Nothing,” she lied. “Or- well, something, but I don’t know what yet. Human stuff.”

Hassian clearly hadn’t expected that. “Human stuff?” he echoed back.

“Yeah.” She grasped for something, anything, whatever she could dream up. “I visited the ruins earlier and… I’m fine, but my head’s a bit… strange. Honestly I’m still trying to make sense of everything.” That much was true, and easy to say. “I’ll tell you, I promise. I just… need to sort it out first, so I can explain it.”

It was horribly clear that Hassian wasn’t okay with her explanation. Worry for her, a want to help, a need to know…it all played out in his eyes before they shifted down and his forehead creased once again with a scowl.

“Very well,” he said at last, voice soft. “I trust you.”

That made it so much worse.

Chapter 8

Chapter Text

Chapter 9

Chapter Text

She didn’t give it to him. Of course she didn’t give it to him. The problem wasn’t that she couldn’t say it, it was that she didn’t want him to know. She couldn’t give him the letter.

Several days had passed since she wrote it. Hassian didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. He told her how worried he was in other ways. Like the way he’d started to bring her things, like a cat, just as he had early in their courtship. Heck, even when they’d only just met. “You’ll likely freeze to death without my help, take this,” he’d sent her, along with enough fur to make her first blanket. Now he brought her water because it was summer and too hot for more blankets, or snacks between meals, or a new journal because he saw how much she was writing suddenly.

There were other things too, though. New things. He was quieter. Not more withdrawn, just more respectful of her quiet. He touched more, not pushing his own boundaries, just remembering how much simple touches helped her. Where before they’d sprawl side by side or opposite a campfire facing each other, now he wrapped his arms around her from behind and held her as they both stared into the flames, or pulled her to lay against him as they leaned back to watch the stars. She spent more time in the tavern in the evenings while he was with Sifuu and Auni, he spent more time with her in the day while he was giving advice to the humans. They didn’t sleep apart anymore.

She wanted to reassure him, tell him not to fuss, but honestly? She felt guilty admitting it, but it was nice. Not his worry, obviously, but being cared for, even if he didn’t know why she needed it. And he wasn’t doing anything that hurt him, she made sure of that. His new touches never became more kisses, his quiet was nothing new, she didn’t stop talking to him… they were actually doing well. Stressed as they were, healing as they were, they were doing well.

Several days had passed, and Inara thought they might be okay.

A letter awaited Hassian when they returned to the grove that evening. He parted from Inara only long enough to check it, but as soon as he read whatever it contained, his expression darkened and he stuffed it into his pack almost violently, as though the letter had personally offended him.

She only imagined that waft of perfume, right?

“It’s nothing,” he assured her before she asked, his voice an annoyed growl that he was careful not to direct at her. “Some chore with the new hunters. I’ll deal with it later.”

Inara tried not to show just how relieved she was, but of course he saw. He’d become an expert in her over the months, just as she had in him. She held out her hand to him and he wrapped her up in his arms, and they swayed subtly for a moment before parting. He rested his hand on her lower back as he steered them towards the firepit.

“Sit,” he bid her, though he halted her first to put a blanket down on her usual seat. She worried that he’d noticed she’d been sitting more gingerly, but she wasn’t going to overthink it now. Things were fine, he was just being sweet.

She held his hand as she took her seat and pulled it to her lips to kiss his palm. She watched, grinning, as he fetched her water and lay another blanket beside her, fussing for the sake of comfort. Eventually he started on the meal itself. Simple grilled chapaa, string beans and tomatoes cooked in the coals. The same as many other nights, but recently Hassian had been seasoning it differently. Before it was usually just some salt or spice sprouts, but he’d been paying more attention to foraging lately and had even asked Hodari for some of his spices. Apparently eager to share his passion for well-seasoned meat, Hodari had happily gifted them a couple of spice mixes, a bottle of seasoning, and some smoking wood chips to add to the campfire. Inara watched her lover awkwardly try to combine everything into a meal, a soft scowl on his features as he tried to make it perfect.

“That smells amazing,” she murmured, and he relaxed a bit at her words. “I’m starving all of a sudden.”

“It won’t be long.”

True enough it was only minutes before he presented her meal. Maybe Inara was just seeing it through the eyes of love, but to her the plate was a vision of rustic romance. The chops boasted a deep, inviting char that hinted at their savoury depth, beside them lay a medley of blistered cherry tomatoes and green beans, kissed by the embers of the campfire, glowing with vibrant hues of red and green. Simple, clumsy even, but it was perfectly theirs. A cosy, intimate indulgence under the starlit sky.

Inara was about to thank him when he started cutting up the meat for her, and she couldn’t help but giggle. “Hassian? My star, that’s a bit much. I’m not a child.”

He blushed indigo and set the utensils down, leaving them for her instead.

“I’m sorry,” he blustered. “I only-” he halted awkwardly, unsure how to explain.

“I know,” she told him simply. He needed to look after her, protect her, make sure she was safe and well. Maybe she was. She wasn’t sure, but right now? Right now she was perfect, and she could cut her own meat, thank you very much.

He sat beside her, bodies pressed lightly together as they ate. She rested her head on his shoulder between bites, enjoying the warmth of his presence and the quiet symphony of the crackling campfire and creatures beyond the grove. The meal was simple but profoundly satisfying, the meat was tender and rich, the tomatoes popped in her mouth as she gently bit into them releasing a delightful gush of flavour, and the crisp, earthy beans complemented it all beautifully. She savoured each mouthful, wrapped in intimate tenderness.

After the meal Hassian gathered the plates, pausing only to gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind Inara’s ear. His fingertips traced her jaw lovingly, his faint smile saying so much. Inara had never felt so content. She smiled as she watched him, her eyes reflecting the adoration and firelight.

“This is wonderful,” she said softly.

He smiled back with relief more than anything, but there was real contentment there, too. “I’m glad.”

He returned quickly, resuming his place by her side, their bodies naturally gravitating towards each other. Inara leaned into him, sighing contentedly as she felt his arm wrap around her shoulders and his lips pressed to the crown of her head in a possessive little kiss.

“This is perfect,” she whispered. “You’re perfect. Thank you.” She hesitated long enough for the silence to turn awkward, trying to think of what to say. She felt as though she had to say something but… well, that was the point, wasn’t it? She couldn’t. “And… Hassian, I don’t just mean for the meal, I-

“I know.” He turned enough to wrap both arms around her and pressed his lips to her head once more. “You’ve always been patient with me, Inara.”

Thus they stayed, wrapped in each other's warmth, the world outside the grove fading away.

Chapter 10

Chapter Text

Inara woke slowly, the first rays of dawn slipping through the boundaries of the grove and casting a gentle light over the campsite. The remnants of last night’s campfire smouldered softly, a faint wisp of smoke curling up into the cool morning air and adding a smokey scent to the sapwood and damp earth. For a moment, everything seemed perfect, just as it had when she fell asleep wrapped in Hassian’s arms.

Where is he?

She reached out for him, expecting the familiar warmth, but her hand met only the cold, empty fabric of his sleeping mat. Tau’s familiar rough tongue licked her hand with an almost apologetic whine, prompting her bleary eyes to flutter open as her heart gave a small, unsteady thump. She was sure he was fine. It was nothing. He was just using the bathroom or addressing some annoying human or starting breakfast.…

She sat up, searching for him, and quickly found him sitting a few feet away on a fallen log, hunched over something in his hands as he wound it around his fingers. Other than that, a tense stillness hung about him, and Inara knew something was wrong.

“Good morning,” she called softly, voice husky and quiet with sleep and worry.

Hassian didn’t respond. He didn’t even look up. A chill that had nothing to do with the morning air crept over Inara’s skin. A chill that turned to sheer, cold dread when she realised what Hassian was holding.

Her missing underwear.

The ones that had been taken from her, the night she couldn’t remember.

Hassian stared blindly down at them now, turning them over and over in his hands. “Why did Tamala have these?“ He asked. His voice was ragged, as though he’d been yelling, or was trying not to now.

“I-”

The words stuck in her throat.

Hassian looked up at her at last. His eyes held a mixture of disbelief, anger, betrayal. A hopeful light of trust as well, but she could tell he thought this was it. This was the moment he’d been fearing all along, the moment he’d realise Inara was, indeed, going to turn on him, too. That one way or another, he had already lost her, or had never had her, and he was about to learn some terrifying truth. Inara hated that she couldn’t reassure him that wasn’t true. No matter what she said now, he would suffer.

The words wouldn’t come. She felt like she might be sick, that horrible slug feeling crawled up her throat, but the words stuck like twigs and kindling, dry and painful and threatening to burn them.

“I’m not assuming anything,” he promised, his voice and fingers both trembling slightly. “I know I did last time, and I’m sorry. I just- please, Inara. I’m listening.”

The words wouldn’t come.

She wasn’t scared, she realised. She felt guilty about that. She might be about to lose him. She was certainly about to hurt him. She just felt numb, as though a thin, gauzy veil were wrapped over everything, softening the harsh edges of reality. She didn’t like that.

“Come with me?” she bid him quietly, voice shaking in spite of the unwanted calm. “I can explain, I think. But I have to show you. I can’t-”

He nodded once, that same scared trust in his eyes, and he stood to follow where she led.

The journey back to her house was silent and honestly, she could hardly remember it. She bid him sit and he did, perched on the edge of her bed while she fetched the letters from under her pillow. Just a couple of pages, tear-splattered and crumpled, folded small, as though she could fold them out of existence. She handed him the letters with trembling hands, then sat on the bed in her house and watched, as if through a fogged window, as he unfolded it.

Even before he started to read, he handled the pages so gently. He used his fingertips to track the words as he read them and she couldn’t help but think of what those pages were feeling. The callous fingers and strong grip, and careful control and infinite tenderness. She felt greedy, selfish, but she wanted to take the pages back and slide under his hands and ask him to just forget what was happening.

I put that letter with this one so you can read it for yourself. She knew when he reached that line because he looked through the other two pages to find it. He read the letter that had come with the wine, his expression neutral, almost like he was numb too. He read it twice, then set the paper aside on the bed and looked to Inara.

“I didn’t send you this,” he said quietly. It was disgusting, how relieved she felt. She should have already known that, but some part of her doubted him even so. Maybe that was how he had felt, when he smelled Tamala on her, and the fear just won.

She wasn’t entirely sure which part made him grip the papers for a moment before intentionally relaxing his hold on them, as though her painful words were too precious to damage. She could guess. She didn’t know which part made his eyes fill with tears, though. She’d never actually seen Hassian cry before. He’d come close, when he spoke about Momma’s disappearance, but this was the first time she’d seen a tear actually escape. Just one, before he caught himself. She hated how much it helped, to know he was hurting for her and not just angry.

Hassian finished reading, and touched the final word- her name -as though he were pressing a kiss to it. Or maybe she imagined that. Maybe it was wishful thinking. He folded the letter, absent the rogue one of technically unknown origin, and tucked them into his vest, safe and sound in the pocket near his heart. The other letter he tossed onto the bedside table, then with a scowl he decided otherwise and stuffed it into the drawer, out of sight.

He toed off his shoes and scooted onto the bed proper, so he was sitting back against the headboard. Inara looked at him hopefully and he opened his arms to her. “Please, come here,” he quietly bid, strained voice barely more than a whisper.

She went, her movements tense and mechanical, stiff with stress. She curled into his arms as she’d longed to do and wondered why she didn’t feel… more. Something. Anything. It was like curling up in the arms of a stranger.

“I’m sorry,” she told him, as though he hadn’t already read the words.

“Hush,” he whispered and kissed the top of her head. “I know.” It should have been comforting, but it was a stiff peck of a kiss, and his quiet tone was harder to read.

She shuddered and, voice fear-filled she almost silently begged, “please tell me you forgive me.”

“I don’t,” he answered quickly, and her heart beat hard on the underside of her sternum as though it were trying to break free. Just once, because he was still speaking; “there’s nothing to forgive.”

All at once she was hit by the feelings she’d been missing. She buried into his arms like a chapaa diving for safety into its burrow. His arms closed around her and it was as though all the warmth came back to them, like sunshine that burned away the icy numb she’d been trapped in. There were so many other things she wanted to say or ask, but all she could do was cry as every tear she’d refused to shed burst forth, and she clung to Hassian as though he were the only thing anchoring her to reality. The terror, shame, confusion, everything she’d suppressed surged through her like vomit, like she could feel her body cramping to squeeze it out. Hassian whispered to her softly but she couldn’t hear him, her senses overwhelmed as, for the first time in days, she allowed herself to feel. She felt the weight of her ordeal, the agony of her memories, the profound relief of no longer being alone in her pain.

And oh, she could feel. As the torrent of emotions finally started to ebb, she could even feel him. His legs curling around hers, his fingers in her hair as he held her to his own shaking chest, the protective leather of his bow arm where it rested over her. He felt safe, felt familiar, like home and comfort, like everything she’d craved, and she cried harder for finally having it.

Hassian was sitting at her side when she woke feeling light and hungry, his leg pressed alongside her as she slept curled against him. Early morning sun shone through the east-facing windows, telling her she’d only been asleep for a little while and illuminating him in a hazy half-silhouette. He was writing, she realised. His pencil moved anxiously, fussing with his words. Inara stretched and softly yawned, which evoked a small start from Hassian. He hadn’t heard her wake, he’d been so distracted.

“Good morning,” he barely more than whispered, and his hand came to the side of her head to gently stroke her hair. A simple act of tenderness, but the touch all the lighter now that the weight of worry had left her. Hassian knew everything, and he was still here. Whatever came next, they were together.

“Good morning,” she echoed and turned into his hand. “Did you rest?”

He shook his head and hesitated. His hand flexed for a moment but didn’t lift, as though it knew it had to go but didn’t want to. He lingered, stroked her hair again then finally drew back. Inara watched curiously as he set aside the journal, then lay with her proper once more. He held himself back and looked her in the eye, and asked with complete seriousness, “do you really want to know?”

“Yes.” She wasn’t entirely sure what he was referring to but the answer was always yes. There was no part of him she didn’t want to know, nothing he could say that she didn’t want to hear. She lightly traced up his cheekbone, down his jaw, loving him with her fingertips. “Whatever it is, you can tell me, my love. I’m not going anywhere.”

His eyes broke from hers and he caught her hand and kissed it almost desperately, as though he needed that to be true but couldn’t trust it. After a few seconds holding it to his lips, he released her and turned to sit up in one quick motion, picking up a few papers and handing them to her along with the journal.

“I wrote you a letter,” he told her, the words stiff and halting as though they were sticky in his throat.”These are for you. I-”

Inara sat up, meaning to ask about it, but he was already heading towards the kitchen mumbling something about breakfast.

“My darling Inara, my night sky, my everything,

“I wish to speak my heart plainly - I understand why you didn’t come to me. As you said, I didn’t bring that part of myself to you either, and like you I made my choice because I was afraid. Afraid of hurting you, yes, but more than that, afraid of facing the things that had happened. Afraid of what you might think of me, that she had brought me so low.

“But through your guidance and light, my star, I am a braver man now and I see things more clearly. I see how wrong I was to have hidden from you. I see now that, just as Dunn faced all things at Nyota’s side, even death, I should have stood beside you from the very beginning, and if you’ll still have me once you’ve read this, I’ll stay there until the very end.

“In these pages, I give you everything. Forgive me that this is the best I can do, for I am still afraid of the disgust I might see in your eyes when you read this, even though in my heart I know it shall not be there should I look.

“Forever your hunter, Hassian.”

Chapter 11

Chapter Text

He’d written about everything. Tamala, of course, and Taylin, and Sifuu, and every nightmare and sleepless night. He wrote about eyes - hers, and Tamala’s, and the monster he saw as a child in the elderwoods. He wrote about fearing he was going mad the first time he wondered if Tamala could control the chapaas, or that she was going out of her way to sabotage his reputation with the humans. He wrote about the abuse. He wrote how easily he allowed it, as desperate as he was for someone to belong to. How pathetic he felt every time, how much he allowed because he didn’t know better. He wrote about a time Hodari counselled him that he was too young for Tamala and needed to stay away from her, and how sharply he’d rebuked the advice. His parents had been younger than him when they fell in love, after all.

And he wrote about the beauty of the woods from his eyes, about the peace of the grove. He wrote about Inara, and never compared her to Tamala. He compared her to the stars or the sun. He compared them to his parents, and talked of trust and mutual respect, and how he only felt awake at her side, and how strange it was to actually feel respected, to feel seen. It had been a decade since someone had taken the time to get to know him, he said. He wrote about her eyes every time they drew close, of the first time they kissed, of the times they’d rested their faces together and simply existed in each other, how she saw him so clearly, how beautifully painful it was that someday she might decide she didn’t like what she saw, and leave. He even wrote that one day he’d give her his journals.

He’d written that months ago.

And finally he wrote about her letter. Mostly he wrote about his anger at himself, because his pain had isolated her with her own. He’d been a fool once again, he said. He’d ignored Tamala’s bad behaviour because he thought it was love, and now he’d ignored his own for the same reason. He hadn’t been loving Inara, he’d been hiding from her, and he was ending that now. He wrote about how she felt pressed against his side as she napped, and how very scared he was that once she woke he’d never feel that again. He wrote that he loved her, and that he would never forgive himself for bringing suffering upon her.

Inara tucked the journal under her pillow and peeked out of her room and down the hall, into the kitchen. Bowls of fruit and porridge sat on the counter where Tamala’s bottle had been, but there was no Hassian - he sat beyond in the doorway to the porch, his back to her as he hugged his knees slightly.

Of all the things she expected to feel, giggly adoration wasn’t the first that sprung to mind. She remembered every time he’d piled the blankets onto her in the night, and how he could curl tight in his sleep to try and stay warm. How he still insisted he didn’t feel the cold. The irony was it was mild outside, a balmy summer morning, and yet she could see him shivering.

She grabbed a thin quilt from the bed, ignored the porridge as she passed through the kitchen, and wrapped them both in the comforter as she took her place at his side. She leaned against him and stroked his arm for just a moment but she could feel the tension, the unasked questions, the same fear she’d held when she’d begged for forgiveness just hours before. His fear was different but entirely the same, and it was as unnecessary as hers had been. As she had feared anger where there was nothing but love, he feared ridicule, rejection, when Inara had just loved him more with every line.

“Look at me,” she whispered, her hands cupping his face to guide him to her. He turned with the same stiff fear, eyes closed as he pressed his forehead to hers.

It was another minute of silence and fingertip strokes along his jaw before he finally did as she bid and opened his eyes, filled with trepidation and hope.

She didn’t say anything. She knew she didn’t have to, that he could see it all in her eyes and feel it in her gentle touch. She saw him, she loved him, and she wasn’t going anywhere. They were the lovers now, completely, she silently vowed to him. She belonged to him as he did her, and their fear could no more change that than it could move the stars.

She felt the way his jaw relaxed under her thumb, heard the soft sound he made when he exhaled, saw the relief as he closed his eyes again and just rested against her, wrung out and raw. Written in the stars, each of those gestures echoed. She knew he knew it too.

They stayed like that, wrapped in each other and the thin quilt, for hours.

“You should go,” she murmured at last, reluctant. “They’ll be waiting for you-”

“Let them wait until tomorrow,” he interrupted her. “This is where I’m supposed to be, today.”

She selfishly revelled in the words, but she knew how much his commitments meant to him. Still, she didn’t argue, not yet. She fetched the cold porridge instead.

It was the first time she’d been in there since- well. It was the first time she’d been in there in a week. She kept her eyes fixed on the food at first, but once she’d picked it up she cast her eyes about discreetly, looking for the bottle as though she was peeking at a predator without moving her head. She relaxed when she didn’t find it and rejoined Hassian on the sunny porch.

Hours passed and the sun climbed higher, peaked. They barely spoke and when they did it was about nothing, but it felt right. Everything important had already been said. At one point he yawned and Inara laid the quilt out on the grass in her courtyard so he could rest. They nuzzled together spread out, heads alongside each other as they watched the sky and made up stories in the clouds until he fell asleep.

She kissed his cheek when he woke and she got up to make them some lunch. She didn’t look too hard, but she didn’t find the wine bottle. She wasn’t sure where Hassian had put it, but she was thankful he’d made it go away. She watched curiously as he moved through the room to return to the bedroom, only to come back a minute later with his journal and pencil in his hands. He kissed her shoulder in passing and returned to the porch.

When she went out later with the stir fry she’d cooked, found him sketching the various weeds that grew in the cracks of her garden.

“This is a nature journal, it records the plants and wildlife in a new area. It… seems fitting,” he explained as though to answer her unvoiced curiosity. “I want to stay here. If you’ll have me, that is. I believe you will..”

A green rebirth of his book, the thought. A new chapter focused on their home.

“What about the grove?”

His jaw clenched for a moment before he relaxed and answered in the same deceptively casual tone, “I’d rather be here. It’s better for you, and it’s easier to defend.”

She wanted to assure him it wasn’t going to come to that, but she didn’t want to lie anymore. Her heart mourned the loss of the grove, but this would be home just as easily, with him.

“You don’t sleep well inside,” she reminded him, like he might have forgotten.

“I sleep fine, with you.”

She rested against him as another hour passed, watching him work on the journal in silence. Normally Hassian would be heading to his games with Auni. Instead he quietly asked, “what will we do, about Tamala?”

“I don’t suppose we can kill her?” she asked with only a little irony. It wasn’t like they hadn’t both thought about it.She knew they couldn’t and wouldn’t act on it but still, it was what she wanted.

He squeezed her hand and said, “No. Even if we succeeded, we wouldn’t get away with it.”

“Hmph. Figured.” She sighed and rested on him, staring into the air as though it might show her the right path to take. “We can’t just ignore her,” she stated needlessly.

“And we can’t retaliate.”

Inara’s mind left Tamala for a moment and thought of Hassian’s writing instead. In his journal, Hassian had written how he’d fired a warning shot over Tamala’s shoulder when she dared lay hands on Inara. Now he blamed himself for Tamala’s escalation with the wine and false letter. Perhaps he shouldn’t have done anything, perhaps he only made it worse. She knew his words now were born of that same fear, and that just wouldn’t do.

“What you said at the end of your journal-”

Inara gave him a little nudge and asked, “do you still have the knickers?”

Confused, he looked up at her. “Yes?”

She held her hand out for them and when he fished them from his pocket and handed them over, she took them without fear. Strange, how much meaning was wrapped up in that little scrap.

“She started it because we were happy,” she told him plainly, studying the garment. They’d been cut away, she noted, not simply removed. She didn’t know why that mattered but it felt as though it did. “She escalated because you retaliated against her, then she escalated again, with these, because you didn’t retaliate against me. I don’t think it matters what we do or don’t do, my love. She’ll keep finding ways to hurt us until it stops being fun for her.”

He nodded somberly and shuddered, leaning against her for comfort. “That won’t be until she finds someone new,” he told her as though he’d seen it happen before.

She didn’t say it. She knew from his journal that they’d had the same thoughts. With how young he was when she first lured him to her bedroom, they were both worried about Najuma. Even little Auni, with his ‘haunted’ artefact that drew him in his sleep right down the paths she roamed at night. Hassian had been watchful, he knew Tamala hadn’t done anything yet, but between the kids and the vulnerable humans and Tamala’s habit of sinking her magic claws into the lives of those around her, neither of them were comfortable leaving her be any longer.

Chapter 12

Chapter Text

They went that night to speak with Chayne first. He was Hassian’s shepp, and had always been a gentle voice of guidance for those who needed him. He’d counselled Hassian when he first started dating Inara, she was sure Chayne had counselled him years ago when Tamala broke his heart, too. Hassian seemed almost comfortable with him when they sat down, Hassian’s bag at their feet.

“We need to talk to you about Tamala,” Inara had told him, her fingers laced with Hassian’s as they gripped each other tightly.

Their details were vague but their meaning explicit. Inara told him parts of Hassian’s story, Hassian told him about the wine and the attack on Inara. Both shared their concerns for the other residents, and noticed how Chayne seemed saddened but not surprised by any of it.

Words tense, Hassian asked if Chayne thought that certain other residents should be approached about Tamala. “I know I worry more than I should-.”

“He has good reason to believe,” Inara corrected, and went on to tell Chayne about the book of magic Auni had found in the library, a book Caleri couldn’t account for with charms for his dad that Tamala had to help him complete, and how he’d found his suspicious item near her house, the item which had lured him into her woods in his sleep. Hassian added Auni had tried to run away before, as well, and each time he’d gone to the campsite Tamala used to frequent with him. He knew it was probably unrelated, but it set him ill at ease.

But there was more. Inara told him about the Pavel’s mines and their apparent haunting until Tamala got involved, and the sleeping potions she’d been feeding Hodari, and their “arrangement” that bore a striking resemblance to how she first lured Hassian to her bedroom. She wasn’t worried about Hodari the same way, but he wasn’t the sort of man to say something if Tamala had been inappropriate or exploitative. Chayne agreed. And then there was Najuma, the girl who hardly spoke to anyone, and the dynamite that had magically vanished in the night and found its way into the mineshaft Tamala passed by every evening. It wasn’t terribly suspicious on its own, but when it was all put together, a pattern started to emerge.

There was more, but Chayne dismissed it. That was more than enough, he said. He would use his discretion to reach out to the community. He thanked them for bringing it to his attention and invited them to return should they need to. She thanked Chayne for the offer, even though she knew she wouldn’t take it she knew Hassian would (though, devoted as he was, he insisted he only needed her.)

Next was Ashura, partly out of respect to his position in the community but also because he’d become something of a father figure to the humans, the default shepp regardless of who anyone chose. He looked out for them with as much devotion and protection as Chayne did the Majiri, and as much as they worried for some of the local residents, they knew Tamala had seduced many of the humans too.

Ashura already knew. They weren’t the first to come to him. Inara’s story about the wine, though, that took him by surprise. As Inara shared her story, his eyebrows raised in shock, then fell into a troubled scowl. When she was done he all but stole her from Hassian to wrap her in a protective hug, and she clung to him and cried like she might have once cried to a parent. She gave Hassian a sheepish smile but it wasn’t needed; as he leaned on Chayne, she leaned on Ashura, and they had each other through it all.

Finally, they went upstairs, and knocked on Subira’s door. She greeted them politely and ushered them inside, and curiously eyed the bottle of wine Hassian produced from his bag.

“We need to talk about Tamala.”

Neither of them had expected Subira to take action quite so fast, but when she saw Inara’s healing injuries and the traces of flow clinging to the inside of the wine bottle, and heard the description of Tamala’s flow-filled necklace and the order robes Hassian said hung in her room, she excused herself at once, eyes wide with urgency.

That night, the sky lit with an explosion of purple light, and the same howling wind that usually accompanied flow trees but so loud it may as well have been a scream. No one knew for sure what had happened, but rumour among the humans was that Defenders from the Order were seen heading toward Tamala’s house, and that the cottage had been destroyed. No one knew where Tamala was, but a letter from Subira the next morning promised they wouldn’t see her again.

Inara wasn’t sure where that left them.

Hassian still felt the need to stay at the house. They visited the grove, camped and worked there, but it was now more of a waystation for their hunting trips, a reminder of things both good and bad that had passed now. It was still theirs, but it was tainted, bittersweet.

“Don’t think of things as tainted by her,” Hassian murmured against her hair as they curled together there one night, her back held close to his chest as he spooned behind her. “Think of it as blessed by us.” He guided her hand up to his cheek and kissed her palm, and let her nails trail lightly down until she stroked his throat. “It’s so easy to remember her touch,” he continued as he leaned into Inara’s hand. “But your touch brings me such peace, my star. That peace is something that cannot be demanded or taken by force, it can only be given, and I give it to you.”

Slowly, every thing she’d tried to take, they took back. The grove, the kitchen, Nyota and Dunn… Hassian even shared a bottle of wine with her one unexpected Sunday after they returned home from the village, though they both agreed it would probably be their last. Not because of her, but simply because they didn’t enjoy it, and their wants were more important than their bad memories.

Their house soon became their home and, much to Inara’s surprise, Hassian flourished there. A few nights he was restless, at first, but the familiar green walls of her home and the wild grounds and secure courtyard, the bay windows with all their light, they all helped him settle fast. Before the end of summer, the Pavels were joining them for dinner and Auni and Sifuu were visiting for cards and stories. It was all disgustingly domestic.

The most special part though, in Inara’s opinion, was how deeply Hassian breathed now, and how much more he roamed. Before he’d always hugged the cliffs of Hideaway Bluff and stayed to the edges of the village, as though torn between his need for people and his fear of crowds, or his need to ramble and his fear of Tamala. Both fears were gone now, when Inara was at his side, and as wonderful as it was to spend more time in Kilima or socialising with the Pavels in Bahari, it was times like the present that Inara truly treasured.

Inara stretched out happily on her sleeping mat, staring up at the stars as Hassian drew constellations between the freckles on her stomach. She rested her head at the back of his neck and massaged him affectionately, and he pressed a doting kiss on her lower rib in response. This was their third night sleeping in the moonlight, this time high in the ruins of what was once an ancient human wall of some sort, some part of the old aqueduct.

The view was incredible, the glow of an aurora lit up the sky just beyond the Flooded Steps as the largest flow grove she’d ever seen crackled to life below. The wind picked up slowly and both their bodies felt the brush of the chill the breeze brought with it. His arms wrapped around her, hugging her gently, protective of the cold, and their eyes met in silence, both reflecting back the faintly pink aura of the flow.

As if in perfect sync both opened their mouths to speak, then laughed together as they tried to let the other go first. Then both quietly smiled, and pressed their foreheads together as they settled for sleep.

“I know. I love you too.”