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Even now, two years after the journey for the dawn, Throné still wasn’t used to waking up to the scent of raspberries. Slowly she opened her eyes, and saw beside her Agnea’s sleeping form. The blankets had slid from Agnea’s bare shoulder, and the first rays of the sun that seeped between the gaps in the curtains cast a faint glow over her skin. Throné reached out to press her hand to Agnea’s cheek, and felt strands of soft hair against her fingertips, and Agnea stirred slightly.
This was her home, shared with her beloved Agnea, a house in Cropdale not far from Agnea’s father and sister. Cropdale was a quiet little village, nothing like the bright lights and deep shadows of New Delsta. Such a village might even be boring in comparison, but here Throné could breathe easier. Maybe she was idealizing Cropdale the way Agnea idealized New Delsta. She smiled; but anywhere could be home as long as she could wake and see Agnea beside her.
Agnea’s blue eyes slowly opened, and Throné planted a quick kiss on her lips. “Good morning, my dear,” Throné said softly.
“Morning already, huh…?” Agnea drew closer to Throné, wrapping her arms around Throné’s back, and her skin was warm against Throné’s as she buried her face in Throné’s cleavage.
Throné let out a faint chuckle; normally it was Agnea who was the first to awake, bright-eyed and eager, but she could indulge Agnea for a few minutes longer. The nights were theirs alone, sharing pleasure that once Throné would never have dared to dream of. That Agnea could love her was like its own dream come true. She brushed her lips against Agnea’s forehead, and Agnea giggled sweetly.
They soon managed to climb out of bed and dress themselves. Daisy, the puppy Throné had adopted in New Delsta - although after two years she could hardly be called a puppy anymore - pranced at their heels. In the time since the eight of them had went their separate ways, Throné had traveled the world, sometimes alone and sometimes as Agnea’s bodyguard. No collar weighed her down, and she could now travel and rest as she pleased.
As usual, Agnea prepared breakfast for the two of them, and Throné helped wash the dishes and laundry afterwards. Most days Agnea helped Gus at the tavern while Throné had taken to aiding the local apothecary grow and care for medical herbs. Today, however, they were both free. They had nothing special planned, and once, Throné might’ve been paralyzed over the lack of purpose, but some days it was important to simply rest and relax, Agnea had told her.
(“Of course, I still push myself too hard sometimes,” Agnea had admitted once with a weak laugh. “But I know I need to take better care of myself too, so that Papa and Pala don’t worry.”
Throné threaded her fingers through Agnea’s hair; not so long ago she had learned how Agnea’s mother had passed away. “Well, as your bodyguard, it is my duty to ensure your well-being.”
Agnea could only smile, and again she kissed Throné.)
Throné joined Agnea for morning stretches and exercises, and Throné liked to think she had gotten rather good at keeping pace with Agnea’s movements. She wasn’t as dazzling, and nor did she wish to be as bright a star, but more than that she simply adored seeing how Agnea smiled when she danced with her. Throné didn’t need to be good, she needed only to enjoy herself. The purpose of dancing was to have fun, Agnea often told her.
Sometimes Throné worried that someone would discover Agnea’s bodyguard had once been part of the fallen Blacksnakes, but no longer would she allow fear to stop her from reaching for Agnea’s hand.
After a while, they took to wandering the village together, and Agnea held Throné’s hand in hers. Daisy followed them, and every villager they passed greeted them with a smile. Here, no one knew of Throné’s past. No one knew of the high cost of her freedom. She touched her bare throat; no one else needed to know. It was enough that Agnea knew, accepted and forgave her sins. She still had nightmares sometimes, as did Agnea, but not as often as she used to. After all, it was much preferred to wake to the scent of raspberries than blood.
Around them were the colors of autumn, leaves changing from shades of green to red and gold. Sunlight seeped through the trees, and Agnea smiled warmly at Throné, and for a moment she could forget the lingering autumn chill. Soon it would be winter, and in spring they would return to New Delsta for Agnea’s grandest performance yet. It would also be the first reunion of the eight of them who had brought back the dawn. She and Agnea wrote and received letters, of course, but even Throné had to admit she was excited at the prospect of seeing the others again. For them, she would tolerate the crowds.
Agnea’s fingers tightened around Throné’s, and they walked through the forest path. A man helped his grandmother wash quilts decorated with elaborate patterns, and both of them spared a smile for Agnea and Throné. Agnea waved happily while Throné simply nodded. Agnea was the star of the village, and it was clear how everyone loved her. Sometimes Throné wished she had been raised in such a loving village, but her path in life, fraught with hardship and stained in blood as it was, had brought her to Agnea, so she could not regret the choices she had made. Among the rustling of the leaves and the flow of the river, she could only wish that Pirro, Scaracci, Donnie, and even Father and Mother had obtained such peace. Birds chirped quietly in the distance, and Throné drew closer to Agnea.
Beside the festival grounds, Agnea led Throné through a small path, hidden by a tense thicket, and Daisy followed closely. They were careful not to snag their clothing on any branches, and flower petals and fallen leaves lay scattered about. Agnea had shown Throné this place many times before, a small hill overlooking the nearby river and away from the eyes of the other villagers. It was a beautiful sight, and the sun stained the river the same shades of red and gold as the changing leaves. The water glistened in the sunlight, almost blindingly so. Agnea dashed forward and did a brief twirl, her skirts fluttering in the wind. Throné’s breath caught in her throat; even now she was often struck by how beautiful Agnea was.
However, Agnea’s foot caught on a large twig and she slipped, and Throné flung out her arm to catch her around the waist. Her cheeks flushing a deep crimson, Agnea glanced up at Throné, and then began to laugh, and Throné could not help but laugh as well.
At times, Throné could understand Dolcinaea’s desire to erase her past. But the past could not be changed, and all one could do was keep moving forward. Just as Agnea had melted Dolcinaea’s icy heart, without her Throné might’ve fallen in her journey, broken by Claude or consumed by the Moonshade Order. She might’ve welcomed the starless night without dawn. But night was most beautiful when filled with stars and promising a new dawn.
Throné and Agnea sat upon the grass, and Agnea linked her arm with Throné’s as Daisy laid across her lap. Because of Agnea, Throné could find beauty in the night. Again she touched her bare throat, no longer bound by that poisoned collar. Agnea laid a hand over Throné’s, and brushed her lips against Throné’s neck. “I love you, Throné,” she whispered, her breath warm against the exposed flesh.
Such words still didn’t come easily to Throné; instead, she slipped her fingers beneath Agnea’s chin and kissed her. Throné was free now, and she would allow no one to take this treasure from her again.