It is a relief to see her smile. Asterion hadn’t realized that he’d been braced for anger, or disappointment, until he sees the curve of her lips and something in his chest unknots. A similar sound leaves him, half laugh and half sigh, and when she steps forward he is swift to meet her embrace.
Her words are as soft as the whispering foam, and seem to linger between them. For a long moment he doesn’t answer, only breathes standing pressed against her dark and sun-warm skin, his eyes tightly shut. She smells like summer sunlight, and flowers, and the sea he loves; Asterion smiles against her shoulder.
“Then I have another reason to be glad I’m home,” he answers softly. Though his expression doesn’t change, something about what she’s said makes his heart pang, a mixture of sorrow and guilt. Thana’s warning is a fresh scar in his mind, cold and flashing like a drawn sword - do not find me again, Asterion. He wants to tell Samaira that he’s never been able to keep anyone aloft; that he always wanders in the end, well-intentioned but bound to disappoint. But there is a tenderness in her voice he doesn’t want to bruise, and it feels so good to be held, to bury his nose in her dark mane and breathe in all the scents that mean home.
When she steps away, he is reluctant to let her go. To her apology he shakes his head, a laugh in his eyes, not reading her blush, or the meaning of the intensity in her moon-bright gaze. “I like your boldness,” he says, and a boyish little grin curves his mouth. “I often wish I had more of my own. And it’s a far kinder welcome than I deserve.” For a moment his thoughts turn to those reunions to come - Marisol, Isra and Eik. Moira. He worries there won’t be open arms from any of them, and his expression fades to solemnity.
But Asterion doesn’t want to be solemn, not now, not when her joy was so palpable. The once-king reaches out to touch her cheek. “Tell me how you are, Samaira. I missed you. I missed everything.”
@
hold me amongst all your cards;
