Mellia — Just Way
????, Earth Season, Season/Death Week
Context
1626 Earth Season/Death Week/Fireday/night , in Venlar’s guest room. [[[s02:session-7|Session 7]]]
Fluff warning!
Events
It’s a quiet and peaceful time, after a dinner just for two in Venlar’s guest room, after Venlar presented his poem and Mellia thanked him for it.
“Venlar? Are you awake?”
Venlar turns over sleepily, to stare at Mellia without real understanding. “Yes?” he tries.
Mellia kisses Venlar on the nose. “I had an idea. It’s something you have to think about carefully.”
“Uhh… Are we running away? Father had words. But if you wanted to…” He pauses. “I guessed wrong?”
He kisses her on the nose right back.
“You guessed wrong, dearest, but this might cause as much of an uproar. ” Mellia pauses, searching for words. “How much do you want children?”
He considers a little, and says, “I used to want them. I suppose I have got over sadness. Life will fall out as it will.”
“There may be a way, but I don’t know if you’d want them this soon. If you could have children, would you want them now?”
“Umm… right now?” He looks around, still not awake. Confused. “Huh?”
“Well, after the usual amount of time, my love. Next week is Ernalda’s high festival. The Earth Queen gives birth to all things.”
“Oh, right.” Venlar focuses, becoming thoughtful.
Insight: Something about him says he is scared of that process, or – more likely – its results.
“Do you want to?” is his reply, which is not quite a yes.
“Not if you don’t want to,” Mellia answers. “I admit I’d rather wait until after the wedding, but the holy festival is next week.”
Venlar winds an arm around Mellia. “If I did, it would be with you, but I don’t want you to have a wedding and find out you never can. If I can’t be a father, I’m not Orlanth.” He holds her tight for a moment, seeking comfort.
Mellia snuggles close and holds Venlar tightly. “I love you, Venlar, not the prospect of children. If you want, we can hold off on seeking help until our parents nag us about it. Or longer.”
“Then let’s do that. If we grow old with a Clan as our only family, so be it. It’s possible… oh, I don’t know! I’ll be in the Blue Tree, won’t I? So I won’t be called on to rule it, so being a model of the God matters less, I suppose. If you’re happy to marry me knowing that, we can get married anyhow. But if they propose someone else for you…” His voice deepens, slows, as he thinks about that potential disaster.
“By now,” Mellia says with a hint of thunder in her voice, “they should know better.”
“Well, quite. I’m confident. It’s just that my mind keeps on coming up with ways in which I must be heroic and rescue you. I think you would likely rescue yourself before I got there, to be honest.”
Mellia’s eyes twinkle. “Do you want me to wait for you?”
“What a question for a woman to ask her man. But given the context, I would take on any problems you left. Do not stay in danger. My mother would look after you, no matter who was asking for you back.”
Mellia nods. “You might wind up in more danger than I was in, beloved. I am planning to ask Chalana Arroy for Her gift of peace as well as more healing power.”
“That’s a surprisingly good idea. I admire it.” He pats her shoulder, approvingly, but there is that sadness again, underlying what he is saying; the same feeling he was showing when he thought about the chance of having children.
“Oh, Venlar,” Mellia says with another hug, “I love you just the way you are. I love you, no matter what you can or cannot do.”
“I know,” he replies. “That’s part of why I love you too. Not that you do it for me alone, but that you love all, and then aside from that chose me specially. I would, even if you did not lie here with me, I think. You were so kind when we met, before we knew each other at all.”
Mellia blushes. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”
“You think it’s flattery. It’s not. If you were from Sartar you would have more pride in you.” Venlar waves a hand to chase away the notion. “I don’t mind being me. But it’s strange – I want to be more worthy of you than I was, even though you do not mind. So having found a person who knows my weakness and does not think it changes anything, I suddenly want to change. I think I know a fable about that.”
“Do you? You must tell it to me sometime.”
“Perhaps when it is not Fireday. Is it still Fireday? I haven’t slept since Clayday.”
“It’s still Fireday. Go back to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up unless there was some sort of emergency.”
“Well, you’ve woken me now. Can I go to sleep a bit later?” He gives her a big-eyed look.
“Oh, maybe…..”
