Though their bodies ached from the fevered storm between them, though the bond lulled like a tide in their veins, both found themselves staring into the dark, hearts restless.
Elena traced the scar at Jaime's temple with slow fingertips. Her mind would not leave the wellspring. The taste of water still lingered in her bones, the crackling pressure of the storm-god's voice in her ears. She remembered how they had bled into each other, bound not only by flesh but by essence. She remembered the moment she thought she might drown, only to find Jaime's hand gripping hers beneath the surface, refusing to let go.
She had thought herself beyond saving. But he hadn't come to save her. He had come to stand with her. That was the difference. Niegal had always treated her like a flame too fragile to touch, a treasure to shield, a burden to bear. Jaime, reckless, stubborn Jaime, had waded into the storm not to lift her out but to be consumed alongside her.
And for the first time in her life, she felt equal. Not lesser, not pitied. Equal.
Her chest ached at the thought. Tears welled again, sliding to his skin.
"Why are you crying?" Jaime's voice was a rasp, almost swallowed by the dark.
Elena shook her head, pressing her lips to his jaw. "Because I think… I think you see me as I am. Not as a broken thing to rescue. Not as someone who must be tamed." Her voice wavered. "You met me at the wellspring, Jaime. You bled with me. And I don't know what that makes us, except the same."
The words shivered through him. He wanted to laugh, to weep, to kiss her until his lungs failed. Instead, he pressed his forehead to hers and whispered, "You are the bravest thing I've ever known. And I'm… gods, Elena, I'm nothing without you."
Her hand tightened on his. "Don't you dare say that. You are everything as you are. You're not mine because I need saving. You're mine because we chose each other."
Jaime closed his eyes, letting the weight of that settle. The child soldier's face flashed behind his lids- eyes too hollow, too resigned. A boy who had never been given a choice. Jaime swallowed hard, throat raw with the memory of it.
"He was just a boy," he whispered. "Didn't even flinch when death came. Like it was all he'd ever known."
Elena's tears slipped faster. She remembered his body crumpling in the dirt, the smell of ash and iron. "He should have lived long enough to laugh. To fall in love. To choose."
Jaime's arm tightened around her, anchoring them both. His voice trembled, fierce and low. "That's why I love your family. Because you let me choose. You let me laugh. You let me hold your children as though they were my own." His throat bobbed as he tried to steady himself. "Gods help me, I think I'd die before I let anything touch them."
Her breath hitched. "And me?"
He shifted to meet her eyes in the dark, violet and blue reflecting faint light. His answer came without hesitation. "You most of all."
The silence that followed was full- so full it ached.
Elena touched his face as though memorizing it. "Niegal never respected me as you do," she admitted at last. "He… adored me, yes. Worshipped me, perhaps. But he never trusted me to stand as his equal. Only as something to shield, to break himself for. You- " she kissed him, soft and lingering, " you would rather drown with me than leave me behind."
Jaime's chest shuddered under her. He kissed her back, with an adoration born not of worship, but recognition. When he drew back, he murmured, "Because you are me. Storm and steel, flesh and blood. We're the same, Elena. And I've fallen for every damned piece of you."
Her laugh was wet with tears, small and broken. "Then fall with me."
And they did. Not in fire, not in grief, but into the quiet tide of one another.
The bond hummed soft and steady, a heartbeat stretched between them. Jaime's hand stayed laced with hers, his other still splayed over her stomach. Elena let her forehead rest against the hollow of his throat, hearing the steady drum of life there, and for the first time, the rhythm did not frighten her.
It promised something she had thought she'd lost. Not salvation. Not safety. But equality. Belonging. Love that did not demand martyrdom, but partnership.
Entwined. Storm and sea, scar and flame, they sank together into sleep.