Oblivious Fools

It took several minutes after Lord Brighton and Adantia had departed, but eventually they reached a point at which Moira’s wrath became somewhat subdued, tempered by her repeated shouting at John and insistence of how foolish he was. Sophia stood idly by, the disdain and contempt for what she saw as unnecessary indulgence barely veiled on her face, but Moira was too focused on her chastising to pay much mind to anyone but her target.

“Have you even the slightest clue what uproar you’ve thrown the entirety of Brighton Manor into? I’ve had to divert multiple soldiers from gathering intel on the front lines of the war to trying to discern your location, trying in vain to find some damned way of contacting you. And even then, I knew it wouldn’t do any good. I knew if I did manage to contact you, you’d just ignore it… or tell me how you were doing what you had to, what was necessary. John, when you left a year ago, the last thing that I saw was the bloodied scene of a man you tortured in a way that would’ve given some of our Inquisitors pause.”

“I… did what I felt was right. What I felt the proper punishment for his actions was. As I have always done.”

John’s voice hesitated, but it wasn’t entirely due to the memory of his handling of the Albidian matters. Despite his chastising of Vallya for her sadistic tendencies, he couldn’t bring himself to regret anything he’d done. Though perhaps ****, nothing he’d done to any of those criminals outweighed the things they had done to others.

It was Arista that came to mind. Had she deserved what happened to her? Did John even fully understand what had happened to her? John fell silent, his mind filled with troubling thoughts, and still feeling rather guilty over the amount of pain he had clearly caused Moira.

“I know. I know you have. You’ve always done what you felt was right, John. Just like everyone else in this world… but what we feel is right can change, especially in traumatic times. I still remember the bright-eyed, naive boy I met at Ashcroft Academy. I can remember awakening to a bawling, bleary-eyed man retching in the brush, not only because I had nearly died, but because he was sick to his stomach over the first time he’d ever taken a life, and several at that. I remember all the times I told you how foolish you were, how innocent, how naive… and I remember every time you looked me in the eyes and you told me if the Abyss was so terrible, you were going to change it.”

Moira crossed her arms, a gesture that usually signaled disapproval but now seemed almost protective, as though comforting herself. “I don’t want to lose that boy, John. And a year ago, I wondered if I truly had lost him forever. When I realized you were serious about finding a way to stop all this, when Etriyya and Tricia told me that you had gone west after I ignored your pleas and brushed you aside… it felt like losing you all over again, but this time it was my fault. I should have stopped you, should’ve chained you up in the dungeon if that’s what it took. I… we had things we needed to discuss, things that I should’ve warned you about, things I should’ve told you even a year ago. I nearly stormed out of the Manor to hunt you down myself. I wanted to- I-”

Moira threw herself at John once more, this time less coordinated and with a slight stumble to her steps, but no less passionately. Metal rang out against metal as she pounded her fist against his breastplate as if to emphasize each word that came out of her.

“John you oblivious fool, I wanted to trade the entire Order if it meant bringing you back!” Moira shouted, pausing in her words for a long while but continuing with the blows on his chest. None of them held anywhere near the strength of her earlier assaults, but they seemed important to Moira all the same, as if it was simply important that she continue to touch John in any manner at all to assure herself he was still there.

“John, I… I truly can’t even begin to express just how… just how…” Moira seemed to be fumbling for words as her wrath slowly ebbed, her fist pounding so lightly on John’s armor he couldn’t even feel the impacts. Her eyes had been cast into his chest for the last minute or so of her swings, practically leaning into his shoulder as she **** those words out. Her body was heaving, and not only from the blows. Her chest shuddered and shook with each breath she took, and her skin was flushed where he could see it.

“Just how furious you are with me, I get it,” John said, gently resting an arm on her shoulder. “I know what I did was-”

“No, you Lady-blessed fool. How happy I am to see you again, and how lost I felt without you,” Moira said, finally looking up into John’s eyes. He saw the tears streaking her face only a brief moment before she had her arms wrapped around his back, pulling herself into him as much as him into her, his own arms wrapping around her almost instinctively before he fully embraced the warmth and intimacy so rarely shown by the Warden.

“Oh! I’m glad to see you again too, Moira,” John said, laughing nervously as he nuzzled himself into her shoulder. “I thought for a second there you were going to tell me to get the hell out of your sight.”

“You damned fool. You’re always such a damned fool,” Moira said, a slight wobble to her voice. “Why would I ever tell you to get out? All I did for a year was try to find some way to lure you back. Then when you finally happen to stumble in, I’m in the middle of one of the most terrible negotiations I’ve ever been part of. Then I’m so wrapped up in negotiations and an impending calamity I don’t even realize how serious you are when you… when you tell me you’re going to run off like a damned fool and nearly get yourself killed!”

Moira sniffled once, then pulled herself back. The tears were gone, her face composed, and even her voice was steadier. The stoic and brave-faced Warden he knew had returned in an instant, after allowing herself only the briefest of breaks. But there was something still there… something ****. Something that John had never noticed before in those emerald eyes.

“I wouldn’t chase you away, John. If I could, I’d never let you leave again.”

“Moira, I wish I could promise that I’m never going to leave… but with everything going on, everything that has happened to us in just a year… we both know I can’t do that. But if it means anything at all to you, I promise I’ll always try to come back.”

“Fool… I’m not worried about you running off and never coming back. I’m worried about what’s going to happen when something stops you from coming back. I’m worried about losing you. I’m worried about… what I’ll do if that happens.”

The words were spoken with open honesty, an emotion so raw even Moira seemed somewhat caught off guard by it. After a moment she seemed to realize that she was staring so intensely, and started to pull back slightly.

“I’m sorry, I just-”

“No, it’s fine, Moira, I completely under-”

“No, I should be more under control, I just-”

“Moira, stop, there’s no reason to-”

The sound of frustration that bore its way from Moira’s chest was not an unfamiliar one to John. He’d heard it many times when he expressed some idea or plan that Moira thought foolish. He was not surprised to hear it once more as they continually interrupted one another.

But it had never been so closely followed by the taste of her lips upon his own.

The steel pressing on the back of John’s head and the pressure of flesh against his own shocked him, but the realization of what those feelings actually implied was a nuclear bomb of awareness that atomized John’s conscious mind and left him fumbling for even the slightest grasp of reality. It was several seconds before John’s mind started to kick back into gear, and that spark of thought combined with pure instincts to press back against Moira with a passion and intensity that surprised even him.

The softness of Moira’s lips was contrasted sharply with the pressure and intensity she pulled herself into him, and him into her. The kiss was adorably chaste, Moira’s lips hardly parted, and yet John could feel the heat in her face so intensely through his own cheeks that he had no doubts how intense the blush spreading across her cheeks must have been.

When at last the two of them parted, it was slowly, hesitantly. Not only out of pure desire still flowing forth, but because both of them were becoming increasingly aware of what had just happened between them.

“M-Moira, I didn’t expect that,” John whispered, as if the shocked expression on his face didn’t convey everything about that already.

“I… I didn’t either,” Moira admitted, not backing away any further than necessary to speak. “John, I-”

The sound of a massive boom echoed through the chamber, shocking John and Moira into literally leaping away from each other, John nearly losing his balance and Moira’s armor clanking noisily as they separated by several inches. Their heads turned in unison toward the source of the sound – a Knight that John didn’t recognize, panting and looking quite alarmed as he stood there with his arm holding the door open.

“Lady Brighton! Your father has gotten into a duel in the courtyard with an unknown woman, and he’s blocked us out from the battlefield!”

“What has she done this time?!”

“What foolishness is he up to now?!”

The words echoed just long enough for John and Moira to cast each other one more glance, a blush spreading across their cheeks. Then, seizing the excuse, both of them sprinted from the room together.