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She’s here now.
It has been a lifetime of starving, chasing, and fighting for something Harrowhark wants, and finally, Harrowhark has her, here in her bed. It is a dream come true. It is wishful, fantastical thinking come to life by her own madness. Harrowhark finally has something she thinks- no, something she knows- is beautiful and good. Something sacred that Harrowhark can hold onto and make hers. She wants to hold onto this. She must.
Harrow stares Gideon down, being sure she can't leave this time, and Gideon writhes under her, pantless and trembling with giddy anticipation.
Harrowhark leans in and places a soft kiss on Gideon's cheek. “Tell me you're mine,” she whispers, begging. Longing. Her hands take hold of the unders of Gideon’s thighs and hike them up, exposing her cunt to Harrowhark.
Gideon blushes and whimpers. It’s painfully endearing. Harrowhark needs it. She tries desperately to contain herself- to keep her tears from spilling out clumsily- but it doesn't work. Gideon unravels her in a way she didn't know was possible until now.
“Please,” Harrow begs again, and her grip on Gideon’s thighs tightens.
Gideon gasps and squirms. Her cunt is glistening and beautiful. Gideon is beautiful and kind, and Harrowhark wants her, even if she doesn't deserve her.
“I’m-” she gasps. Her pussy is dripping onto the sheets. “I’m yours, Harrow.”
“Say it again,” Harrowhark instructs.
Gideon writhes, and Harrow comes down, kissing her between the knees with great reverence. It's worshipful. “And stay still,” Harrow chastises when Gideon’s squirming disrupts her worship.
“Ah, ah, ah-” Gideon moans. Her hands go to cover her beautiful eyes. That won't do. In response, Harrow harshly tightens her grip on Gideon’s left leg. She raises her right hand and spanks Gideon on the clit- once, to make Gideon buckle and gasp. Another time, to make Gideon’s hands fall back to her sides, where they should have stayed in the first place.
“Let me see your face,” Harrowhark scolds. “And I told you to tell me you're mine again.”
“I’m yours,” Gideon confirms, tears in her eyes. Her hips buck upwards. “Harrow, please.”
“You want this,” Harrowhark observes, her heart pounding.
“Mm- mhm, yes-” Gideon gasps, rocking her hips.
Harrow pushes those hips down. “Stay,” she commands. “Stay on the bed, darling.”
“Nngh, okay,” she stammers back.
Harrowhark spreads Gideon’s lean thighs apart. The slick from her cunt gets caught between them, forming a string that Harrow touches and breaks with her pointer finger. Harrowhark throbs in response.
“My love,” she whispers, awestruck, and Gideon grinds her hips into the cold, open air. She's doing her best not to squirm too much, to stay on the bed as Harrow instructed. She's perfect. “Look at me.”
Golden eyes. Eyes the color of warmth and longing and honey. Harrow would drink them. Drown in them, if she could.
Her gut twists.
Oh, she wants Gideon.
She wants Gideon so badly that it hurts. The horror of her want burns through her, scorching her pride to soot.
The tears are back, pooling in the corners of her eyes.
“My love,” she chokes again. “My beautiful, incredible love.”
Gideon stares at her, holding her gaze. Holding her kindly and steadily. She's here. Harrow cannot believe that Gideon is still here, much less that Gideon could be close enough to grasp with her own two hands. Moreover, she cannot believe that after all she has done, that she could possibly deserve-
“Please,” she whispers, trembling. For the second time since Gideon has become her cavalier, she requests, “Please tell me you’ve forgiven me.”
Gideon’s beautiful eyes widen in concern. She chokes out, “Harrow-”
Harrow acts blindly and desperately. She gets on her knees and pushes her face down, between Gideon’s thighs as they’re spread apart, rubbing her cheek on the warm flesh there.
“Do you forgive me?” Harrow pleads once more, kissing up and up, licking at the juice between Gideon’s pussy lips as Gideon arches and moans, biting her lip bashfully. “For how much I’ve needed you.” Harrowhark elaborates, licking up Gideon’s cunt. Gideon whines. “For how much I want you.”
“I- ah- feel like now isn't the time-” Gideon tries to joke, and fails. Harrowhark focuses her tongue on Gideon’s clit, relishing in the warmth of Gideon’s obedience as she drops the attempt.
“Say it,” Harrow demands hastily.
“Harrow- nngh-” Gideon’s hip jerk. She grabs Harrow’s matted black hair by the scalp and tugs needily. “Ahh, please. I-”
“You’ve forgiven me?” she asks again, broken. She holds Gideon’s thighs apart with one hand while the other finds Gideon’s entrance. Her finger prods and slowly sinks its way inside, making Gideon flutter around her and whine. “You’re not going to leave me?”
“I- of course, I- ah, Harrow-”
Harrow thrusts wetly inside Gideon, hitting the palm of her hand up so it ruts against Gideon’s clit as she does so. Harrow sits up and stares intensely at Gideon, studying her face- do you forgive me? Please don't leave.
Gideon’s eyebrows furrow in pleasure. “Yes, yes please-” she gasps.
Harrowhark frowns, crestfallen.
She requires reassurance to a question Gideon still has yet to answer.
In an act of desperation, Harrow clenches her jaw and yanks her fingers back out. Gideon lets out a sudden, broken sob, her stomach clenching at the loss of Harrowhark.
“Please!” Gideon instantly demands.
“Beloved,” Harrow sternly responds. “I asked you a question.” Her dark eyes peer into Gideon’s, trying to inscribe Gideon with her unbridled need.
Gideon’s chest moves up and down harshly, her cheeks rosy red, and her forehead gleaning with sweat. Shakily, she tells Harrow, “Of- of course I do. I forgive you for everything you've done. For everything you could ever do. I need you. I want you.” Her last sentence is punctuated with her hips bucking, demanding her adept’s touch.
Harrow’s heart trembles.
“Okay, beloved,” she whispers- a promise.
She presses her hand back into Gideon, curling her fingers into her and pressing her open mouth to Gideon’s neck. Harrowhark whimpers at how good it feels to possess Gideon this wholly for once in her life. She relishes how tense Gideon’s thighs become and how Gideon spasms around her fingers, drawing closer to Harrow's touch. How short and high Gideon’s moans become the faster and more deftly Harrowhark works.
“Harrow,” Gideon cries, whiny. “I-I’m getting close.”
“As you should, my beloved,” Harrowhark groans, biting at the juncture of Gideon's neck and shoulder, claiming her. “Griddle, come.”
Gideon throws her head back on the pillow, babbling, “Ah- ah- wait-”
Harrowhark hesitates. For a split second, she thinks she’s done something wrong by calling Gideon this- by reinstating her childhood nickname- but then Gideon says,
“I liked it,” in a desperate, pleading whimper. She clenches around Harrow’s slender fingers. “Call me Griddle again.”
Harrowhark groans, burying her face back into Gideon’s shoulder.
“Griddle,” she beckons once. Her fingers cleave through her. Her thumb rubs fiercely at Gideon's clit as Gideon lets out a gurgled whine.
“Griddle,” she repeats. Her legs straddle Gideon, immobilizing her- don't leave. Don't you dare ever fucking leave.
“Ah, hng-” Gideon groans, her face contorted in pleasure.
Harrowhark feels as though she chants Griddle’s name a hundred times. A thousand times. A thousand times, she evokes Griddle’s name worship, rather than the blood-soaked turmoil of their past. It is the least she can do to make up for the destruction her birth has done to Drearburh. To Gideon.
“Come for me, Griddle.”
Gideon cries, shaking and spasming under Harrow's ministrations. She grabs Harrow and holds her dearly as Harrow works her fingers relentlessly inside her, guiding Gideon through her orgasm. She presses soft, warm kisses to the crook of Gideon’s shoulder, her face safely hidden in its depths. She doesn’t want to move from here. If Harrowhark doesn't move, then she doesn’t have to face the possibility that she will ever have to leave.
Gideon whimpers, shaking. The contact is becoming too much- Harrow knows this. And still, she doesn't stop moving her fingers.
“Nonagesimus,” Gideon groans raggedly. She paws at Harrow’s back, grunting. “Lady Harrowhark, you bitch, you’ve gotta stop. You're killing me.”
Harrowhark mumbles into Gideon’s shoulder, her fingers still curling. “But I don’t want to.”
Gideon whines. Her hips twist. “Harrow. Please. Enough. I just want to lay here with you.”
“But-”
“C’mon, Harrow,” Gideon bids, her voice cracking.
Reluctantly, Harrowhark slowly slides her fingers out of Gideon, and Gideon lets out a sigh of relief. Harrow shuffles awkwardly, unsure of herself, and wipes her hand on the sheets. She sits up and stares into Gideon’s eyes.
“Are… are you done now?” Harrowhark sadly asks- please don’t leave. She feels so fragile that she might as well be dust.
Gideon stares at her- golden eyes, those beautiful, golden eyes. They are Harrowhark’s life, death, and second coming. They dissemble Harrowhark piece by piece, slowly destroying her with her own desire.
Griddle suggests again, “Lay with me,” in a very soft and gentle voice. In a way that Harrowhark has always needed, but has never willed herself to have. It is only then that Harrowhark becomes soft and weak-willed, that she allows herself to fully break.
“I want to lay here with you,” she helplessly pleads, as though Gideon hasn’t already just offered, and crawls into Gideon’s arms. She lays her head on Gideon’s chest and rests her hand on Gideon’s heart, where she can still feel it beat, warm and alive. Her sorry, grief-stricken tears spill out of her eyes. They blur the black paint on her face and wet Gideon’s chest. In response, Gideon only smiles and squeezes Harrowhark fondly. Gideon is warm. Warmer than anything Harrow has known and ever will know, growing up in Drearburh.
“I like this,” Harrowhark admits- a plea to God that he will keep Gideon in her life. Please, please, please. “I want to stay here.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Gideon murmurs, growing sleepy. She squeezes Harrowhark tighter, for extra reassurance, and closes her eyes.
“But you could have,” Harrowhark corrects bluntly. She squeezes the hand resting on Gideon’s chest into a fist. “You would be gone if I had completed lyctorhood.”
“Mm. Yeah,” is all Gideon returns.
Harrowhark holds her breath.
She still cannot believe that Gideon is here with her.
She considers the logistics of a reality so hopeful that it could possibly still contain Gideon Nav.
She wonders if she is still living in reality.
She elects to stop wondering about that.
Harrowhark sits up. She turns to face Gideon while their souls and limbs are still intertwined and she looks at her with wide, aching, and starving eyes. Harrow brings her hand to Gideon’s cheek and cups it gently. Her fingers linger on Gideon’s skin so she can feel her. So she can know that Gideon is still with her.
“Stay, Griddle,” Harrow pleads. Her thumb brushes against the swell of Gideon’s cheekbone. “Tell me you will. I cannot bear it otherwise.”
Gideon blinks confusedly, then nods. “Okay,” she whispers simply, reverent. “I’m staying.”
Harrowhark nods and lays back down on her, appeased. She lets out a contented sigh before closing her eyes and resting the same way Gideon does. Her breathing grows slower and she nuzzles her cheek into Gideon’s chest.
Harrowhark is done chasing. She is done fighting. She holds onto Gideon dearly because she is the one thing that Harrow can hold onto in this life. Because Gideon is beautiful and good, and Harrow does not want to even consider the possibility of her loss.
Griddle is here, Harrow reminds herself, peacefully burying herself in the warm presence of Gideon Nav.