I undo the vambraces next. Then the greaves.
When I’m down to my underlayer, I let that fall too.
Naked but unashamed.
I kneel.
Not in submission.
In truth.
Because this is what vulnerability looks like where I come from.
This is the gesture that saysI am yours, if you’ll have me. Not for duty. Not for blood. But because I choose to be.
The wind howls above us.
I feel it strip the tension from my skin.
She watches me with eyes wide, mouth parted. No jokes. No armor of her own.
Just silence.
I don’t look up.
I just kneel there, bare skin pressed to stone still warm from the day’s last light. My hands rest on my thighs, open, steady. The wind carries salt and distant blossoms and something deeper—something I’ve always felt on this cliff but never fully understood.
Until now.
I hear her move.
It’s a slow shift of boots against ancient rock, the subtle change in air when someone steps closer.
Rynn’s breath trembles once. Just once.
Then she lowers herself in front of me. Not mirrored—not kneeling—but folded down with her legs crossed and her elbows braced loosely on her knees. Her hands hang, open like mine.
Her eyes find mine.
Gods. There’s so much in them.
Unspoken things. Grief that never got a name. Years of running, of fighting, of losing parts of herself just to survive the next breath. And yet here she is. Hereweare.
She reaches out slowly. Her fingers brush my shoulder, then slide down my arm.
She stops when she finds the scar just above my elbow—shallow, jagged. From a pulse blade in a skirmish I barely remember.
She doesn’t ask. Just touches it like it means something.
And then she speaks.
“I never thought I’d see you like this.”
I smile. “Naked and kneeling?”
She huffs a laugh. “No.Still.”
She moves closer. Her knees touch mine now, her body drawing into the warmth of mine like it’s instinct.
