Work Text:
Jill woke to Lethe shouting.
Before Jill knew what was happening, she was on her feet, axe in hand. She just needed something to point it at. But the only person in the tent was Lethe, and as far as she could tell, there was no danger at all.
Adrenaline still pulsing, she moved closer to Lethe. Thunder rumbled overhead, and the rain battered down outside. “What’s the danger?” she asked.
“Nothing,” Lethe answered. “Just — startled. Go back to bed.”
Jill raised an eyebrow. Lethe’s voice had the faintest tremor, and Jill could hear the swish-swish of her tail lashing on the blankets.
Jill set the axe down. “Do you wanna talk about it?”
“Tch. It’s embarrassing.”
“Come on.” Jill smiled, knowing Lethe could see her in the dark. “My nightmares have woken me up about a hundred times since I joined you guys.”
“It’s not that.”
“Oh.”
Lightning blazed across the tent. Thunder cracked like breaking glass, and Lethe flinched.
Jill hissed in a breath. “ Oh .”
“Don’t mock me, beorc,” Lethe snapped, all teeth.
“I’m not,” Jill said. “I wouldn’t mock you for this.”
Her words were met with silence. Then, after a too-long pause, Lethe said, “You’re too soft for your own good.”
“You’re the only one who’d say that.” Jill shrugged. “Can I come sit down next to you?”
“...I suppose.”
In Lethe terms, that was a resounding yes. Jill sat down on the cot, just as another shot of lightning had Lethe recoiling.
“Do you have storms like this in Gallia?” Jill asked, aiming for conversational.
“...not often. When we do, the forest quiets it.”
“Oh. I can’t imagine that — back where I grew up, it stormed every other day.”
“I told you — it’s stupid.”
“No, no, no!” Jill put her hands up. “I’m the outlier. These storms are so loud. Anyone not used to them would be frightened.”
“Hmph. Sure.”
Lethe had, perhaps unconsciously, leaned closer to Jill. Jill felt the heat of her body radiating. She was hit by a terrible wave of longing , to take Lethe into her arms and keep her safe from the world. She knew Lethe didn’t need that — she was one of Gallia’s most skilled warriors, and the most competent woman she knew. But that didn’t stop Jill from wanting.
“Do you want to come closer?” Jill asked.
“Hm.” Lethe’s tail swished over the blankets. Jill was certain she’d overstepped. “...alright.”
Before Jill could process it, Lethe leaned in. Her head rested on Jill’s chest, heavy and grounding. The tips of her ears brushed her chin.
Jill’s heart clenched. It wasn’t the first time they’d touched, obviously. They’d sparred plenty over the years. They’d even touched casually, like friends did, brushing hands or nudging each other over a joke. But they had never sat like this — comfortable and intimate, with nothing to distract them but the storm.
“You’re so hot,” Lethe said, and Jill’s brain shut off. “Are you sure you’re not running a fever?”
It took a full five seconds for Jill to remember how her mouth worked. “Aha, yeah, I do run warm. Like a furnace, you know.”
She could imagine Lethe’s eye roll at that.
Thunder cracked again, and Jill felt Lethe flinch. But she remained close to Jill. Tentatively, Jill laid a hand on her shoulder; Lethe, thank the Goddess, didn’t comment. She just leaned into it, hair soft and downy against Jill’s skin.
Some time passed, the storm still heavy. Lethe remained a gentle weight on her chest. At some point, she heard the faintest rumbling. After Jill realized it wasn’t an earthquake or the end of days, she acknowledged it: Lethe was purring.
They’d been sharing a tent since Jill joined the army. They lived and worked and breathed in close proximity. But they had been dancing around each other, not speaking about what that meant. Jill was in love with Lethe; even she wasn’t oblivious enough to ignore it. She didn’t want to speak for fear of disturbing the silence. But now, cradled in dark and rain and Lethe’s warmth, she let herself imagine it was mutual. She wanted Lethe in her life forever; she wanted to comfort her through every storm.
Lethe’s breathing slowed. Her purring stopped, but she remained pressed against Jill.
“I love you,” Jill said, very quietly.
Lethe didn’t stir. She hadn’t heard, but the confession shimmered real and tangible in the air. It felt possible now. Maybe Jill would tell her again someday.
Not tonight. The rain made her drowsy. She closed her eyes, and not long after, she was asleep.