Valentine's Day 2023
"Love is in the Air"
Love stories that were written for the world of MinLore for the event: “Love is in the Air” Valentine’s Day 2023!
The Blind Love of Ibis
“Are you the scribe that has received all the praise from the nearby temples?”
Thres’s hold on the brush jerked to the side, causing the ink to splatter on the previously written Ahkt-, as he heard the light-hearted voice spoke. He looked up into the face in front of the sun and the silhouette of the desert king’s crown.
Thres blinked away the spots in his eyes while he bowed, “Lord Ramses, forgive me for not realizing you were approaching.”
“How could you? You don’t have eyes on the back of your head, no matter what the rumors say about you,” Lord Ramses continued in that same light-hearted tone, “Look up, the sun isn’t in the sky so you can hide your head in the sand.”
Thres lifted himself from the ground while he said, “But my Lord, isn’t that the point of the underground buildings in the long run to not be burnt from the sun and stay in the cool underground?”
Lord Ramses’s head tilted towards the sky and he let out a loud laugh, one that it could shift the sands by itself. “So you have read the book on my projects?”
“I- oh I guess that is a line from them,” Thres started, looked to the ground at his feet, and paused to think, “I was the scribe in charge of making sure that it made sense for all the ministers who had to be familiar with the project.”
“As I’ve heard,” Lord Ramses said. Thres looked at Lord Ramses who had a smile on his lips. The Lord continued, “Come work for me, Scribe Thres.”
“Is that a command or a request?” Thres asked without thinking. His being stopped as if the desert wind couldn’t get the shock of fear going through his body. “Oh my Celestia, Lord Ramses, forgive my impertinence, I wouldn’t dream of going against a command.”
Thres continued mumbling his apologies and the horizon line kept bobbing up and down in his view. He heard Lord Ramses say, “Scribe Thres, of course, you can turn the opportunity down. I just want- Scribe Thres? Scribe Thres? You’re swaying, are you alright? Scribe Thres!?”
Thres felt himself lean forward and suddenly everything went dark.
…
Thres felt the cushion underneath him before anything else.
First thing Thres heard coming out of his faint was a voice above him that said, “I have no idea what happened, he suddenly got very pale and started swaying before he collapsed. If I thought I knew what happened I wouldn’t be here for help, would I.”
That voice sounded familiar but the tone was much harsher than what he knew. A silence followed the scathing comment and Thres started to move his body. His chest rose in a deep breath and he opened his eyes as he let it out. The bright colored sandstone blazed in his eyes before a figure’s head came into view. That same crown he had seen earlier.
Thres became aware that the cushion he was lying on felt more like someone’s lap. In his rush to ask for forgiveness about his improper conduct, Thres’s head slammed into Lord Ramses’s and they both fell back while clutching their heads. Thres clenched his eyes in hopes that the sudden headache would go away quicker.
Another voice spoke up, “Well, how is your Divine Headache, your Glory-ness?”
Lord Ramses groaned and said, “Anubis, I am disrespectfully asking you to shut up.”
Anubis!? Thres opened his eyes once more and looked towards the other voice while keeping his head down to avoid another collision. High Priest Anubis stood there, leaning against a pillar, next to the statues of Lord Ramses’s divine form with Anubis’s jackal form standing guard. High Priest Anubis smiled at Thres.
Thres slid off Lord Ramses’s lap and fell into a bow. He started to mutter his apologies, “I am so sorry, Lord Ramses and High Priest Anubis. I would never mean to be so improper in behavior as I have been in front of you. To have my head in the lap of Lord Ramses is absolutely unforgivable. I-”
“I am going to have to stop you there, Scribe Thres. You fainted, I placed you in my lap to help you recover. No matter who you are, having someone faint in front of you is alarming,” Lord Ramses said while he tried to urge Thres to sit up.
“Perhaps you could help me understand something, Scribe Thres,” High Priest Anubis said, “all of the scribes working here today, were set up to work on the texts inside. So why were you outside away from the water, food, and shade?”
Thres felt his ears burn and reluctantly admitted, “The other scribes are loud when they work.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Thres saw the two give each other a look. He waited for the judgment and harsh words that always followed when he talked about the loudness of others working. That he was simply just sensitive and that needed to get over himself.
High Priest Anubis moved to speak and Thres tensed in anticipation, “Do you mind explaining why this leads you to working outside?”
That made Thres pause and as he explained he started to tug lightly on the lobe of his ear, “The noise is distracting and… irritating. All of the scribes think they are subtle when they whisper while they work, but it is easy to hear them all.”
Thres was pulled out of his distracted actions when a hand took the hand at his ear away from it. Lord Ramses pulled Thres closer to him and Thres could tell that Lord Ramses was looking at the ear he had been tugging, the rough patches on it.
Lord Ramses muttered, “Ah, a nervous habit, I expect?”
Thres nodded, ashamed of his action and feelings, kept his eyes downward. “The tugging of my ears… I guess it distracts me from the irritation I feel in my head.”
Lord Ramses hummed and a cough suddenly reverberated in the room. They both looked at High Priest Anubis and Lord Ramses asked, “Sick, Anubis?”
“No, just wanting your attention, remember we sought out Scribe Thres to ask him to be your personal scribe.”
“Right,” Lord Ramses said and he stood while dusting off his clothes. “I think I may have a way to help you, Scribe Thres. Let me help you and, well, you may be able to help me in return.”
He offered his hand to Thres. Thres looked at the hand, his eyes traveled up the arm and finally ended up at Lord Ramses’s eyes. All he saw was honesty.
Thres smiled for the first time at Lord Ramses, “As if I could ever deny you, my Lord. I would love to work for you.”
Thres took the hand and was lifted up to his feet. Then felt his arm pulled forward. He crashed into Lord Ramses’s chest and before he could even start apologizing, Lord Ramses whispered into his ear, “I hope you will fall in love with more than just working with me, lovely ibis.”
Suddenly, Lord Ramses turned and started to the entrance of his workshop, tugging a blushing Thres behind. High Priest Anubis simply rolled his eyes and followed after them.
…
Thres sat in one of the few chairs of Lord Ramses’s workshop while High Priest Anubis stood at the door as if guarding it. Lord Ramses was at his workbench, tinkering away at something that Thres couldn’t see.
“Aha,” Lord Ramses exclaimed, “here we go!”
He turned and Thres saw him holding two circles that were connected with a semi-circle band. Thres had never seen anything like it. Both him and High Priest Anubis just stared confused at Lord Ramses.
“You see, these may not fix your problem, but it may help lighten them,” Lord Ramses started off saying, “they, um, your ears, uh…”
High Priest Anubis laughed, “Here is the reason why we needed to find a scribe for Ramses. He may have helped invite the words we use, but that does not mean he knows how to use them well.”
“Your ears, they seem to have trouble filtering out sound, or I guess muting the sound,” Lord Ramses said, “by covering them a little, it may help with that.”
Lord Ramses approached where Thres sat and put the invention over Thres’s ears with the band resting on his head.
For the first time, the sound around Thres was tolerable as if he was standing out on the soundless dunes of the desert. His eyes widened in surprise and the joy he felt in his heart lifted his mouth into a bright smile.
He saw Lord Ramses blush and look away. The action confused Thres, all he did was smile.
“So, um, are you ready to work?” Lord Ramses said after regaining his bearings.
Thres nodded.
…
As time passed, knowledge and rumors about the Grand Scribe that worked under Lord Ramses became known. The only Scribe who was able to keep up with Lord Ramses they would say. The only Scribe who Lord Ramses would approve of when it came to writing out his words. Everyone knew that while the orders and verdicts that were written were the words of Lord Ramses, the words themselves were written by Grand Scribe Thres. The Ibis of Truth and Knowledge was what they started to call him.
…
“Thres!!”
Thres heard the loud call from where he sat. Brush moving quickly, ear coverings in place. He was in the office set aside for him in his Lord’s abode. He called back, “In the office, Rams!”
Ramses rushed through the entryway and Thres could tell that he was about to get an excited explanation since Ramses was bouncing on his feet.
“The Lord of Verdure contacted me and told me that she has somebody who wants to meet with me!”
Thres raised an eyebrow at him and said, “And why is this person different from all the other people who want to meet with you?”
Ramses clapped his hands, “Because~” He said in his exaggerated manner, “This person is another Goddess and only a few people have ever met her.”
Thres nodded and turned back to his work, “So when are we leaving?”
When he didn’t get a quick response back, he lifted his head to Ramses again and just stared at him. Ramses shifted from one foot to another, “Ah, well you see, it was requested that this meeting took place with only just the three of us. No guards, no aids, nobody else.”
Thres was surprised. His heart started beating faster, “Oh, of course, how presumptuous of me. I- just- I’ve always gone where you have ever since-”
“I tried asking why and wondering about bringing you, but,” Ramses said hurriedly.
“No, it’s fine, I just hadn’t given it a thought I guess.”
Ramses walked around Thres’s desk and pulled his face towards him. Ramses placed a kiss on his lips. “Nothing, absolutely nothing will keep me from missing you when you don’t come with me, but I think this opportunity will give me the knowledge I need to realize my dreams.”
“Thres, I wish you could come.”
Thres just nodded and said, “I will miss you too.”
Ramses held Thres’s gaze longer and then walked back to the entryway of the office.
He looked over his shoulder at Thres and said, “I love you.”
Thres wish he could see his honest eyes one more time, but he knew that Ramses already left.
…
Thres was helping the ministers with their duties around the construction – giving directions and pointing out details – when Ramses arrived home.
“Thres! You have to come with me,” Ramses immediately said, “there is someone who wants to meet you.”
Ramses grabbed onto his arm and dragged him away, “Ramses! Who could it possibly be, I was working, Ramses!”
They were suddenly at Ramses’s abode and Ramses rushed to the meeting area. Thres saw two ladies standing there talking. He could tell both were goddesses, one he had met: Lord of Verdure. That must mean the other was-
“Demon of Fleurs and Lord of Verdure, may I introduce you to the Ibis of Truth and Knowledge in this land,” Ramses said and smiled at him, “Grand Scribe Thres.”
“I-” Thres then whispered to Ramses, “You couldn’t have given me a warning?”
Thres turned to the goddess again, “I’m sorry for my state. Hello, esteemed goddesses.”
The Demon of Fleur suddenly laughed, “Oh, I think we should be sorry, we did want to meet you out of the blue, but how could we not when Rams here talked about you so much.”
‘Rams is my nickname for him,’ Thres thought in jealousy.
“And now that we are here and introduced,” Ramses said with no hesitation about the current situation, “Vatta, you wanted to see my ideas on how to keep the oases going in the desert, please follow me.”
Ramses and Lord of Verdure went to Ramses’s workshop, leaving Thres to entertain the Demon of Fleurs. Thres looked nervously at her in the side of his eye.
“So, Thres, please tell me more about what you do,” the Demon of Fleurs said, looking at Thres as if she had never seen anyone like him.
“Well, my Lady Demon of Fleurs–”
“Please, just call me Fleurs.”
“Fleurs, right, I am the official hand and mouth of Lord Ramses. I help him address his people and communicate what he would like to happen.”
Fleurs hummed and inspected Thres. She then said, “You know, even after just meeting him, there is something about Ramses that causes me to worry.”
Feeling offense for Ramses, Thres quickly said, “What could that possibly be.”
“Well, you know, my people have a saying: When the heart and mind are not one, the body and sickness are.”
“I think… I don’t understand what you mean.”
“You know, his feelings for you stop his dreams?”
“How, how could that be?”
“When he thinks about his dreams, he stops to think about you.”
Thres paused, his heart causing his hands to shake and his mind to grow cold, “How could you possibly know this?”
“Did Rams never tell you about my power? As the Demon of Fleurs, I am able to see one’s dreams, to know of their thoughts, to hear the whispers of their desires. And his are making him sick slowly, it will be fatal,” she said candidly.
Thres thought back to everything he had read, the word whispers triggered a memory. There was a book that talked about this. How many noble people were killed because of it. Dream’s Illness.
“How can we help him,” Thres asked hurriedly. He clung onto her arm to keep himself grounded.
“Oh, lovely Ibis, I know this frightens you, and well I can only think of one way completely,” she said with pity in her eyes.
Fleurs reached into her sleeve pocket and pulled out a bottle. It had a reddish-pink liquid inside with an eye as a label. She explained, “This is a medicine that I have made for cases like these. It will help tie his desires and dreams together. So that he may be able to keep everything close to him. I can’t really explain the full technicality of it, but it will save him.”
Thres took the bottle in his hands, “How do you use it?”
“Put it in his drink one night and just let him sleep, he will wake up good as new, but if you tell him it will ruin its effects.”
…
Thres and Ramses were setting up for dinner – they both hated the idea of having servants around them for a private meal. Thres had the medicine prepared in his pocket and while Ramses was turned to grab more food, he quickly put it in Ramses’s drink.
Thres felt his anxiety rise and ate little while waiting for Ramses to take a drink. “Thres, are you alright, love,” Ramses said while holding the cup.
He just shook his head and said, “Just a little tired.”
“Well, we have that meeting with Vatta and Fleurs tomorrow, so let’s just go to bed early tonight.”
And as Thres nodded in response, Ramses took a sip.
Nothing.
Thress guessed he shouldn’t have expected that something would happen immediately. They finished their meal and went to bed.
…
Thres woke up to someone poking his check over and over again. “Rams, please stop, I am awake.”
“You know, thinking about it, Fleurs also calls me Rams,” Ramses said excitedly.
Thres opened his eyes in surprise and looked at Ramses confused, “That… is unexpected to hear about suddenly this morning.”
Ramses tilted his head, “Really?”
Thres raised his eyebrows, “Yes…”
Ramses just shrugged, “We have to go meet the other two! Come on!”
Ramses rushed out of the room to get ready and in a moment of clarity Thres remembered something else that book about Dream’s Illness had talked about. That there was no medicine to have ever been made for the illness, only a nightmare in the form of flowers.
Thres leaped out of bed and pulled open the drawer that held the empty bottle. He looked closely at the label of the eye. It had a heart on it. That demon. She must have tricked his memory about the book somehow. The book warned about how the flower potion could not be broken once the nightmare began.
His love… His Ramses… was lost.
Thres sighed and tears began. Time to go meet the Demon of his nightmares.
…
Thres held his gaze high and stood behind his king as they waited to greet the goddesses for the first time. His Lord wore his ceremonial garb as his skin and hair held the glow of the sun beautifully.
‘Ah, I’m doomed,’ Thres thought, ‘Doomed to always stand behind and never by his side.’
On the horizon, the two goddesses appeared and Thres felt a rush of anger towards the Demon. That Demon of Fleurs.
“Hello! Vatta and Fleurs welcome,” Ramses said in greeting. He turned and kissed the Demon’s hand, “May I tell you how beautiful you are this evening.”
The knife in Thres’s heart dug in a little deeper. Luckily, the dry desert heat kept tears from forming. The Demon smiled at Ramses. A knowing smile.
“Grand Scribe Thres, let’s continue to our destination,” Lord Ramses said. Thres had never heard his full title from Lord Ramses’s mouth.
“Of course, Lord Ramses, may we be blessed by Celestia for our future,” Thres said and with his ear coverings secured, he never took them off to hear Lord Ramses clearly again. Simply watching the actions of the gods’ destruction pass by. All because his love blinded him to the blind foolish love.
Until We Dream Again
The Kalpalata lays flowers atop the edges of cliff sides, reaching out to the Nilotpala that rest in the waters below, longingly waiting for the day they are able to lie slumbering together.
The first night
The Nilotpala, the Lord of Dreams, the scheming Goddess of Flowers. She always carried out her plans and calculations to perfection. If conditions changed, they would be accounted for—until she met the one circumstance that couldn’t be. The first encounter with the circumstance was just a glance: Her white hair blew in the gentle breeze, a pure smile on her face as she lay resting atop one of the branches of the Great Tree in Sumeru City. The moment was too quickly interrupted by the foolish, lovestruck king dragging the plotting perfectionist away. She barely had a chance to take in its full beauty.
That night was a restless one for the Nilotpala. In her mind, she was plagued by the white-haired woman’s smile, replaying again and again like the catchy melodies she often danced to amuse the foolish king and his petting zoo. She analyzed the ceiling at least a hundred times, as if they held the solutions to the annoyance. The Lord of Dreams couldn’t fall asleep, let alone dream. Even if she could, her dream would disappear with the curse that was placed on her kind. What was a dream without the ambition or ability to understand the meaning? Like a flame without oxygen: impossible.
The day they met
Many days passed since that woman appeared. Nilotpala often slipped away from the watchful eye of the foolish king to that same spot in hopes of seeing her again. The Lord of Dreams’ efforts were in vain, leading her to wonder if she dreamed that angelic smile, even though she hadn’t dreamed in centuries. There was some kind of pull even the stars couldn’t explain, as if fate were playing another sick joke on the seelie, mocking the race’s sole survivor. However, fate was now in her favor as her calculations played into its twisted wishes. With the knowledge forbidden to this world easily accessible and her vessels ready for the plot, all that was needed was the perfect timing. The only thing left was the Nilotpala’s inability to think of a vital part of the plan: how to meet the avatar of Irminsul. It would have to wait, as the foolish king extended an invitation to her to meet his dearest friend, who was often too busy to go on casual outings. Naturally, the Lord of Dreams accepted to play into the facade. The king refused to give more details, no matter how many times she asked, but he did divulge that the three of them would meet at the House of Daena.
The House of Daena was the only reason the Nilotpala was not completely dreading this arrangement, hoping for a chance to sneak away and wait for the lady once more. She soon found that it wasn’t necessary, as she saw the same white hair that was at the Great Tree emerge from behind the door of Daena. The eyes of the lady weren’t visible that day at the tree, but they shone like the finest nagadus emerald gemstone. She was disappointed, though, by the lack of a smile on the woman’s face. While the Nilotpala was still stunned at the appearance of the being that plagued her every day, the king presented her as Kalpalata, the avatar of Irminsul, which knocked the Lord of Dreams out of her daze. A wave of horror washed over the goddess, but she put on the same pseudo-smile she often used to get through her daily life as the benevolent Nilotpala.
The Kalpalata’s deadly gaze seemed to see beyond her fake pleasantries. The Lord of Dreams was puzzled by this. Not many could see through the facade, not even the foolish king, though he was regarded as one of the greatest minds in the desert. The Kalpalata disregarded the Nilotpala’s futile attempts to join the discussion in a rather swift, cold fashion. The foolish king didn’t notice, instead pulling the Lord of Dreams closer to himself. There was a twitch in the eye of the avatar of Irminsul as she watched her friend, the foolish king, do the gesture so casually, with no rejection from Nilotpala. Still, she said nothing and did not acknowledge Nilotpala.
The Kalpalata’s coldness and disdain only made the Nilotpala desire more to see a smile of true joy on her face. It lit a spark that she hadn’t felt in centuries, not since her kind fell victim to the devastating curse.
The night they dreamed
When the Nilotpala slumbered that night, she felt herself awaken, and yet she was still asleep. It had been so long, she almost didn’t realize she was dreaming. She was in an unfamiliar forest.
A soft voice called out from behind her.
“Hello, Goddess of Flowers.”
It was the white-haired woman, the Kalpalata lotus. She looked so beautiful and ethereal, glowing in the soft light that filtered through the leaves.
“Where am I?” Nilotpala asked.
“In my dream. I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Why did you bring me here, after you were so distant to me at the House of Daena?”
“I’m sorry about that. I had my reasons, though I cannot say at the moment. Please, let us start over.”
They sat on a bed of moss and began to chat, which quickly turned into talking all night. Their connection was so unlike their stilted meeting earlier that day. They discussed the flowers and the forest, the clingy king, the well-being of the Irminsul tree, and many other topics. Their words flowed freely, and they felt comfortable, as if they had been close friends all their lives.
Finally, the white-haired woman stood up, pulling the Nilotpala to her feet. “It’s morning,” she said. “You’ll have to wake up soon.”
“But I don’t want to go.”
“It’s okay. We’ll meet again tomorrow night, and every night after that, if that is what you want. Just think of me in that liminal space between wake and sleep, and I will join you.”
The Nilotpala wasn’t sure who leaned in first, but as the distance closed between them, she closed her eyes and parted her lips. It was a fleeting kiss, light as a feather, and when she opened her eyes again, the avatar of Irminsul was smiling at her.
“Until we dream again.”
Valentino Day
Dain sighed. Diplomacy wasn’t his finest skill, and standing in an unfamiliar throne room between his dearest and some rather stubborn and arrogant gods made him a sight for sore eyes. Not that he was required to be there, but he still needed to put on airs as the Twilight Sword. The lush canopy they were housed in felt surreal, and on the way in Dain felt as if he was encased in just… green. Not that it was a bad thing, but even with greens all vibrant and full of life, Dain still found his love’s green the prettiest. But this story will not bore you with the talk of politics, lest one fall into a slumber so golden they never wake. Shaking his head, Dain expelled the distant memory.
Those days had long since passed, and what was now called the Ruins of Dahri was no longer the place he remembered. Wandering through the ruins, Dain brushed his hand against the aged stone. He was here to find, well, something. Anything. Signs, evidence, any hint that someone survived. Ferns and moss had invaded the room he occupied, claiming every space that wasn’t stone. Dain’s campfire lay reduced to embers in the middle, daylight piercing through the collapsed roof and eliminating the shadows that dared still remain after daybreak.
Unable to locate any clues here, Dain packed up and continued his search, changing tactics to his plan B. He wanted to finish his search as soon as possible, for Valentino Day was almost upon him.
Caravan Ribat was bustling with people. Mercenaries, merchants and researchers crowded the main street. Here lay the checkpoint, the bridge between Dharma Forest and the Great Red Sand. It was hot, but Dain didn’t mind the heat for the Sun’s rays were something he had grown accustomed to. If he couldn’t find any leads in the ruins, maybe the closest humans have what he seeks. Travelers were commonplace, but even so none would stand out as much as the Twilight Sword.
Knowing this, Dain had exchanged his usual attire for a rather plain shirt and pants. He was browsing the wares on display by a rather pudgy fellow who insisted that such a strapping young man shouldn’t be without something called a “manbag”. Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye Dain spotted a dash of dark blue zip past. A dark blue so recognizable to the right person, and that person was Dain himself. He broke away from the grips of the targeted advertisement and rushed to pursue the fleeing blur. Being tall is not something to brag about, especially in front of his love, but today he thanked the wind for his height that allowed him to scan over the crowd.
There! Dain spotted the blue just as it sped around the corner into a dark alleyway. Giving chase, Dain entered the side street only to realize it was a dead end. The only thing notable lay in front, an entrance that descended down stairs into darkness. Down it is. Dain shrugged and kept one hand on his hilt as he entered the underground room. A wave of heat blasted him, this time being of artificial origin. A roaring furnace bellowed out flames, and thus began a chorus of metal on metal, hammer to blade. He could only watch in silence as a blond woman struck the anvil, over and over again, before finally lowering the blade into a bath of water. White steam coursed and rose, and Dain wondered how the ventilation could work down here.
“Can I help you?” The blacksmith asked.
“Oh… um yes! In fact I was uh wondering about how much it would be to commission-”
“Commissions are closed.” She spoke before Dain had even finished.
“Buy something or get out.”
“Wait!” Dain was confused.
“I followed someone with blue hair down here, I thought they were asking for me to follow.”
“Rositta Alberich Heron!” She yelled. “What have I told you about running around the main street!”
A young girl sulked into the room and splayed herself onto a chair. Her blue hair shone in the reflection of the fire, which illuminated her face.
“Thanks for ratting me out, Mister.” she spat.
Dain was shocked, could it be? He turned to face the blacksmith.
“Can I ask, do you know a man named Wes Alberich?”
“Rosi darling, why don’t you go and fetch this man some water, he must be parched. Wait for us here while I show him some of the stuff in the warehouse.”
“Okayyyyy.” Rosi dashed off into another room, and the blacksmith leaned in.
“She doesn’t know, she’s not ready yet.” It came out almost as a whisper, as if even speaking it would incur the wrath of the gods.
“He was my father, only he never gave his real name to anyone but family. I was always told to show this to whoever tells me his name.”
“Follow me.” She led Dain through a different door, before locking it behind.
“How can I trust you?”
Dain could see her shaking, and reached out to her shoulder to calm her.
“Who else would recognise his friend’s likeness in another, his child. I promise you no harm will come to you.”
She paused, before moving to the far wall.
“In here.”
They were in what looked like a standard storage room full of weapons and materials, and the blacksmith had moved aside a cabinet to reveal a hidden door behind.
“He told me that if anyone ever showed up knowing his old name, that I were to trust them completely and bring them back here. I apologize for any distrust I had of you, I’m sure if you meant harm Rosi would have been the first target. The name’s Alia.”
“Thank you Alia, for trusting me. You can call me Dain.”
It was barely a room, obviously made in haste to conceal whatever was hidden here. The sole occupation was a large chest, and Dain watched as she fished out her necklace from her shirt, bringing forth a key attached. Click. A mutual stare took place, anticipation wracking Dain’s mind. Alia slid the lid open, only to be shocked at what was inside.
“What kind of um, tool? Weapon? Is it?”
Dain couldn’t find his words. Inside lay an item he never thought he would see. Never thought it would even exist here and now. Giving off a brilliant shine, Dain was staring at the plunger he had commissioned all those years ago, The Long Plunge Mark 2. Knowing full well the first model was already perfect, the only thing his beloved had complained about was its length. As such, Dain had asked in secret for Mark 2 to be forged, by one Wes Alberich. Its design was sleek, beautiful, light and shiny and tied with a bow which came as a surprise, but most importantly of all? It was blue. Dain knew his love most, and knew that without even asking she wanted another but in blue. Even so, here he stood, jaw on the floor in shock. As a self-proclaimed pessimist, Dain’s belief it would ever even appear had been next to none.
“Well… what is it?”
“It’s a gift.” Dain managed to get out. “A gift I commissioned.”
“Wait, it looks like there’s something underneath.” Alia lifted up the weapon, and picked up a stack of letters.
“Here.”
Dain took them and opened the first. Alia peeked over his shoulder, and being unable to read Khaenri’ahian, Dain began to read it aloud.
Dearest Minsleif Irmindóttir,
Princess and Timekeeper of Khaenri’ah
Princess, this gift to you, is one forged with no expense spared. It can withstand your full might so do not hold back when fighting those who claimed our people. While once this was only to be a secondary weapon, my anger has fueled me to create something with enough power to block out the sun. Perhaps I may be exaggerating a little, but its strength is no joke. The previous one wouldn’t last 2 minutes compared to this new one. I’m smiling just thinking of you swinging this tool of death. Haha Alia came by this morning, all of a sudden curious of my work, even wanting to give it a go! Ah yes, Alia is my sweet sweet daughter, not even old enough to ride a sumpter beast but still wanting to take my gloves and give it a try. Well, she’s the one to thank for the bow on the end, how could I say no to her pleading eyes. I’ve told her all sorts of stories of our people, and her mother is so proud to see what a strong young lady she is turning out to be. Alas, this curse is taking a toll on me, one that won’t spare even the strongest of us all.
I pray for your wellbeing princess, let the light guide you and the wind lead.
Dear Dainsleif,
The Twilight Sword,
The Bough Keeper,
The Knight Captain of the Royal Guard
I apologize, my dear friend, for I was not there when I was needed the most. Each day eats at my mind, knowing full well nothing would have changed had I been present. This new life I must live, have I ruined everything yet again? The curse is slowly taking me, and yet I am selfish. Alia, whom I am certain you will meet, am I taking away from her a childhood? I have so many regrets, so little time left to fix everything. I still remember those days, back when we spent our time sparring and training, oh how sometimes I wished I could go back to those days. My end is near, pray later than soon. I still have so much to do, watch my Alia grow, take care of this house and not leave my wife a widow. I’m afraid all 3 of these wishes won’t come true, but they are both so strong, so I must be strong too.
Dearest friend, wherever you may be, stay strong and live long.
Water began to form around his eyes, and Alia wrapped her arms around Dain in comfort. Fighting back tears, he read the name of the third it was addressed to.
“Alia Alberich Heron.”
Handing the last letter over, Dain stood up, picked up Mark 2 and left the hidden room with his letters tucked inside his armor.
It was some time before she emerged, and a final hug in mourning was shared. Composing themselves, Dain moved the cabinet back, and Alia let them out back into the main room.
“So that’s where you went! I’ve been waiting for sooooo long.” Rosi complained.
“He’s still our customer Rosi, and I think he has finally found what he was looking for.”
“Thank you, thank you both.” Dain smiled, and as Rosi came to give him the water she fetched, Dain swore he could see that same mischievous grin Wes used to give him.
Leaving the forge both lighter and heavier than before, Dain set out, ready to return home. Home to Min. He had made a promise with Alia and would return some day, but for now, the search was over.
Minsleif Irmindóttir. Princess and Timekeeper of Khaenri’ah, the wife of the Twilight Sword, owner of Catri’ah Cat-aclysm, and the most bored person in the entire universe at this given moment.
“Welrknweklnrwer!” She exclaimed, waiting for him to come home was more suffering than that time she got pulled into learning the language of cats, of which yes, she is indeed fluent in.
Tonight was supposed to be the day he was back, and he was late. Min busied herself, praying time would skip forward to when she could leap into his arms, after all, it was a special occasion. A rather old tradition in Khaenri’ah, today was Valentino Day, a day which celebrates love and affection and everything beautiful in the world. Finer cooking and extra effort are important to show how much you love, and giving is much more important than receiving. Min had secretly been planning this gift for a while now, sneaking out to work on it whenever she had the chance. Usually one would find figuring out a gift a rather difficult task, but not Min. She had a list, and this year she wanted something to blow whatever gift he got her out of the park. You see, earlier in the year when it was Min’s turn to do the laundry (yes we are a shared chores household) she noticed that his favorite part of gloves had started to fray. Naturally, Min decided to go all out in creating the one glove to rule them all.
Taking only the finest silk from Liyue silk flowers plus all her knowledge of Dain’s hand and its size, she created the perfect inner lining of the glove. The outer half required something strong, something that would stand combat, as well as everyday use. A secret combination that included magical crystal chunks, Irminsul fruit among other things, little did Min know she had accidentally created the strongest material the likes no one had ever seen. Now, there was only one missing element: blue. That’s right, blue. Blue to match the color of the sky. Blue to match the color of the sea. Blue to match Dainsleif. If left to her own devices, Min would have created gloves so blue nothing else could be seen as blue. Luckily for both Dain and Teyvat, an intervention from her staff at the Catri’ah Cat-aclysm saved the world from disaster, and thus so the gloves became a more normal jet black.
Back to the present time, Min paced back and forth in front of the door, hoping, praying that he would finally be home. The table was set, mood lighting and rose petals everywhere (literally everywhere I can’t name one place without), and dinner was sitting in the oven, awaiting its turn to shine. She waited patiently, and as soon as the front door opened she jumped into his arms, squealing into his neck “Happy Valentino Day!”.
Dain held her tight, the exhaustion from traveling dissipating with help from Min’s warmth.
“Happy Valentino Day my love, I’m home. <3” He smiled.
“You are.” Min giggled back.
Climbing off the Twilight Sword, Min grabbed his arm and dragged him into the dining room, not once stopping till they reached the table. Dain had dropped his bags at the door, and sighed with content knowing this was always how Min is. He came prepared knowing this would happen, and held his (don’t tell her it was unplanned) very prepared gift out, knowing Min couldn’t guess what was hidden in the box because even he didn’t know till after he left. Min brought out hers, all wrapped up neatly with a flourish.
As with tradition, the gifter is the one to unwrap their gifts, and so Min unwrapped her gift and revealed the strongest gloves in existence. She clasped his hands gently and helped him put them on. A perfect fit, Dain could feel how comfortable and amazing they felt, but both would still be unaware of its strength for many many years. He stood up for his turn, and gave Min a smooch on the forehead as a thank you. Min was a little nervous about how big of a box he had brought. Dain slowly unveiled the masterpiece, The Long Plunge Mark 2, and held it in both hands as he presented it to Min, oblivious to her current expression of I don’t need another… but at least this one has a bow… and is blue. Dain was so excited to show it off, and Min smiled as he started to explain all of its functionality that he had requested it have.
Settling down for the evening they both snuggled up on the couch, when Dain remembered the letters. Not wanting to sour the mood, Dain attempted to keep it to himself for tomorrow, but nothing got past Min, who could tell from a glance something was on his mind. Dain pulled them out, and Min read them aloud. Hearing them from her lips changed the mood. Not one of mourning, but of reminiscence. As they read about their dear friend, they both recalled the past, laughing away at the times of youth. After all was read, hugs and affection were given by both, soft giggles and smiling between their cheeks as the night set in. Dain picked Min up, carrying her just as a princess should be held, and Min clutched tight to his chest, arms wrapped around his neck, knowing that all is well when you hold in your heart those you love most.
“Happy Valentino Day.” He whispered once more, smiling as Min fell asleep in his arms.
Tucking her into bed and getting in on the other side to face her, as slumber overtook Dain he dreamed of dreaming as midnight turned over once more.