Loved No Less

10th of Calor, 964 A.D.

The streets of Bardford looked more or less the way she remembered them. She’d only passed through once, years ago, but some things stuck in her memory. The salty breeze coming from the harbor, the shouts from the market square, the gulls fighting over scraps. It all felt familiar enough, even if she’d barely had time to look at it back then.

Thalia kept her hood up as she moved, not quite hiding, but not ready to be seen. She wasn’t here as High Warden Thalia of the Ridian Empire. Not today. Today, she was just Thalia, passing through a city that remembered her differently.

The tavern looked just like it had the first time she’d seen it—weathered sign hanging crooked, soft glow spilling from the windows, and that same mix of warm bread and bad decisions drifting into the street. It was where she and the others had come, chasing rumors of two strangers claiming to be from the Istishari Isles. She stopped outside, staring for a breath longer than she meant to.

It had been four years. Four years of duty, diplomacy, and everything in between. She had stood beside emperors, settled border disputes, signed treaties, and spoken for the gods themselves. She had done her job well - better than most thought she could. And somehow, through all of it, Verrix had never quite left her thoughts. Not in a dramatic way. Just… there. A quiet pull. A half-finished sentence.

“I put the sea aside for a while when I started the tavern,” Verrix had told her once. “Didn’t mean I loved it any less when I went back.”

That had stuck with her. Maybe it always would.

She stepped inside.

The tavern was warm. Loud enough to feel alive, quiet enough to breathe. A few sailors sat at the far table, a few others played a game of dice near the bar. It smelled like citrus and rum, with the undercurrent of old wood and sea air. And then, from the back room, a voice. Familiar and casual.

“Still wearing armor in a place like this? You planning to fight the furniture?”

Thalia turned to see Verrix, leaned against the doorway, drying her hands on a towel. Her hair was pulled back the same way it had been back then, and her eyes hadn’t changed a bit - sharp and knowing.

Thalia smiled, slow and tired.

“Still running your mouth in a place like this? You planning to get punched?”

Verrix smirked, stepping forward.

“Still bad at flirting, I see.”

Thalia shrugged. “Some things don’t improve with time.”

She hesitated - then added, quiet:

“But I’d… very much like to do. That. Again.”

Verrix laughed softly and shook her head, stepping closer.

“Good,” she said. “Because I never stopped hoping you would.”

~~

Later, the tavern was quiet. The shutters were drawn and the fire had burned low. Somewhere downstairs, a stool creaked as the last sailor stumbled out into the street. Upstairs, the room was dark except for the dim glow of the hearth’s last coals.

Thalia lay back against the mattress, one arm behind her head, the other resting across the worn blanket. Her armor was gone, tucked in the corner. Just her, for once, without the weight of steel or titles. Verrix lay beside her, half-covered by the blanket, one hand gently resting on Thalia’s ribs, settled like it belonged. Neither of them said anything for a while. Then, softly.

“I still think about the Isles,” Thalia said.

Verrix didn’t answer right away.

“I know they’re gone. That… whatever we saw, whatever happened at the Well, it tore them apart. But it still feels like something’s left. That dark mist. Those creatures. They’re not spreading, but they’re still there. Waiting.”

Thalia exhaled, a long breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

“I should be doing something. But I don’t know what. There’s no war to win. No cause to rally. It’s just… damage. Damage no one can fix.”

Verrix shifted slightly, brushing her thumb over Thalia’s side.

“Not everything broken needs you to carry it,” she said, gently. “You already saved the rest of the world, remember?”

Thalia turned her head, just enough to meet Verrix’s eyes.

“Doesn’t feel like enough.”

“It never does,” Verrix replied. “But you held the line. You gave the rest of us time to breathe. That counts for something.”

The room was quiet again. In the distance, the sea could be heard, gentle and constant.

“You’ll have to leave again soon, won’t you?” Verrix asked, voice low.

Thalia nodded. “A few days. Week, maybe. There’s a council session in Myria I can’t miss. Border talks with Himari. And a temple dispute in Caldrest I’ve been asked to weigh in on.” She paused. “And the Cathedral… there’s always something.”

Verrix was quiet for a long moment.

Then she gave a small smile.

“Well,” she murmured, “I’m still here. Same tavern. Same bed. You don’t have to stop moving. But you don’t have to forget where you can rest.”

Thalia smiled and let her eyes close, just for a moment. Not asleep - just still. At least for now, there was nowhere else she needed to be.