Riend (prime)/The River Between us

The River Between Us

The river shimmered with the last traces of Nilandia's work, running clean and bright between the two halves of their new shared space. Riend felt the magic settle like a faint pressure behind her eyes. It was fragile, far too fragile, and she feared how easily it could be undone. To the west, the pale caverns of Mestanir stretched in wind-softened arches. Shadows pooled in their hollows like the remnants of storms, and she could feel Madelyne in them, restless and sharp. Behind her rose the deep forest of Llythwere, warm and green, its familiar scent grounding her in a way few things could.

Madelyne paced the cavern bank with a predator's agitation, quick steps kicking up grit. Riend watched her movements carefully, her wariness left uncharacteristically unmasked.

"You're staring at me again," She said, a hint of mocking in her tone. "As if I might dive across this river and take your head off."

Riend remained under the broad-limbed linden, letting its shade soften the tension rising in her chest. "We both know I have good reason to be wary." It was as close as she dared come to admitting the fear she felt, even now when there was little Madelyne could do to her.

It had been days since she had brought Jaired and Nilandia into her home. Days since the truth of her unraveling had finally forced itself into the open. Desperation forced her hand, her restraint beginning to crumble beneath the weight of exhaustion and silence. She hated that she had waited so long, hated that she had not known how to ask for help. Having carried Madelyne's presence alone for too many years, her control had begun to crack in places and she knew it was only a matter of time.

Nilandia had seen the weariness in her, the kind Riend never allowed into her voice, and she had offered a path forward. A place where Riend and Madelyne could speak without tearing at each other.

Madelyne gave a dry, humorless laugh that echoed too loudly across the cavern walls. "And you pretend I did it because I enjoyed hurting you."

"You seized control and acted against my wishes," Riend said. "So many times." She felt anger lingering beneath the fear, but it was a small, brittle thing. It had been so long since she'd let herself feel anything too strongly that part of her sometimes wondered if she still had the capacity for it.

Madelyne spun toward her, every line of her body hard. "Because you never listened. You shut me out, locked me away and pretended I was nothing but a shadow in your mind."

Riend resisted the instinct to retreat. "I denied you space because you pressed so hard that I did not know how to face you."

Madelyne rolled her eyes, exasperation snapping off her like sparks. "You never gave me another option. The only time you heard me was when I broke through and I kept pushing because it was the only way you ever noticed I existed."

Riend stepped closer to the river, disbelief tightening her expression. "Never existed? You overwhelmed me so completely that I lived afraid of breaking, and you wonder why fear was all I had." Her voice shook at the edges. She did not hide it.

The river ran between them, unbothered by their grief.

Madelyne crouched and let the water flow over her hands. Her posture softened, though Riend kept searching for the hidden strike. "Well," she said quietly, "now we have this. One mind. Two spaces. A place between us where we can stand without clawing at each other."

Riend inclined her head. "I believe the intent is to give us each space to linger in while the other is running things." The words felt thin compared to the enormity of what they needed to rebuild. The idea of two entities existing in one body was not wholly foreign to her, she'd recently met another who had a similar situation. However, her relationship with the human woman had never had the same level of understanding, only pure, unbridled hatred.

"I don't know what comes next," Madelyne admitted, and it was the first time her voice held something other than vitriol, a sliver of vulnerability. "I don't know how to live like this."

Riend lowered herself to the opposite bank, as she mulled the sentiment over. The grass was damp beneath her palms, and its coolness grounded her trembling thoughts. After a brief pause she stated clearly, "We must begin with boundaries."

Madelyne groaned, throwing herself down into the emerald grass and laying an arm over her forehead. "Of course. Rules."

"Yes," Riend said evenly, her eyes tracking Madelyne's movements. "You may not harm others or me, directly or indirectly. You may not risk the life we share and you must abide by the covenant I live under." She braced herself, not for debate but for dismissal.

Madelyne rolled over, flicked water in her direction, a sharp little gesture. Her voice was petulant, and sarcastic as she listed each rule out. "I know. No killing. No fights I start because someone irritates me." Her eyes glinted with sudden mischief aimed solely at Riend. "And what about men?"

The words slammed into Riend with startling force. "I do not see why that is necessary to discuss." Heat climbed her cheeks as she stammered out the words.

"Oh, it absolutely is," Madelyne said, laying her head in her hand as she watched Riend's reaction with barely unrestrained amusement. "If I'm ever out, I should know the limits of what I'm allowed to do. It has been such a very long time, you know, and there are certainly men worth noticing." She paused, letting the statement hang in the air before going in for the kill. "Like that peculiar Tehiri half-elf with the striking blue eyes."

Riend startled harder than she meant to. "Madelyne. No."

Madelyne continued, clearly unaffected. "He watches you. Not fondly. Not adoringly. He studies you. I wouldn't mind returning the favor and taking a closer look."

"There will be no men," Riend said, unable to mask her flustered breath. "That is not negotiable."

Madelyne raised a brow. "Especially not him?"

Riend gathered her composure with visible effort. "Especially not him." Only then did she notice the thin green blades crushed between her fingers. She let them fall, annoyed with herself for revealing how sharply Madelyne’s comment about Jaired had struck her.

Madelyne laughed, bright and unrestrained. "Good. I like when you get flustered. It feels real and you haven't been that for a long time."

Riend folded her hands neatly, trying to settle her heartbeat and ignoring the barb. "These boundaries are essential."

Muttering something sharp under her breath, Madelyne pushed herself into a sitting position. "You know, you keep saying these things like they're difficult for me to understand. I'm not stupid."

Riend's gaze softened. "I did not say you are."

"You didn't have to," Madelyne said. "You've lived in fear of me for so long that you're waiting for me to break you again. And I know you. Your mind never stops. It pulls itself apart over every little thing. It's maddening."

Riend felt that truth hit deep, uncomfortably precise.

Madelyne settled back on her outstretched arms. "So when do I get to surface? You can't expect me to sit in my caverns until you decide you're safe."

"You will not be caged again," Riend said. Her stomach twisted at the memory of how long she had kept Madelyne contained. "But I must ask that you yield to me when clarity or restraint is needed."

Madelyne tilted her head. "And when things aren't dangerous?"

"Then you will have space," Riend slowly responded, mulling over each word… testing it in her head before settling on one. This needed to be said precisely, but firmly and she had little experience with speaking either. "You may speak when you wish. See what you wish. Feel what you wish. Barring breaking any of the rules, you are fully free to do as you will.  We must learn to share our life." Though the words frightened her, she gave them anyway. She had spent too long living as if it was only her that mattered.

Madelyne stared, stunned. "You'd give me control. Freely."

"I would give you room," Riend said softly. "As one who lives within me. Not as a threat. Not as a burden." The admission left her feeling exposed, but also strangely relieved.

Madelyne looked away, blinking too quickly. "No one's ever offered me something like that without a price."

Riend shifted forward, kneeling at the edge of the river. The water glimmered like a thin line of silver between them. "I understand what it is to live without choice," she said. "To be shaped by solitude. To be taught that desire must be denied and hope is weakness. I lived without warmth longer than I like to remember."

Madelyne's shoulders tightened. "Stone saw that in you."

"Yes," Riend murmured. "He used what was broken in each of us."

Madelyne's voice thinned. "And he twisted what was already ruined in me. My father wanted a tool. A thing to place. A piece to maneuver." She dragged her fingers through the river. "Stone saw that crack and pushed until I believed cruelty was strength."

Riend's heart ached for her. "When I saw what I had done to you," she said, "I realized your wounds echoed my own. You grew within walls not unlike those that shaped me. You learned to survive in a world that did not permit you to be yourself."

Madelyne swallowed hard. "I hurt you. I pushed you because I couldn't see anything else. As if breaking you was the only path to him, and I didn't care what it cost."

Riend extended her hand above the water, the gesture trembling. "I know. And I have hurt you as well through my silence and fear. The cage I forced upon you was its own cruelty. We must acknowledge both truths."

Madelyne's breath caught. "I never thought anyone would understand that part of me."

"I understand," Riend responded, without hesitation, knowing in an instant it was the truth. The truth settled between them like a fragile bridge.

Madelyne lifted her gaze. "I don't want to break you anymore." For the first time, Riend sensed sincerity from Madelyne and it softened her.

"And I do not wish to imprison you," Riend replied, the faintest smile warming her voice.

Madelyne reached across the water, her hand hovering above the rippling surface. Riend mirrored the gesture. For a suspended breath, they held still. The air warmed, light rippled and the river stilled like glass.

Madelyne whispered, "Then tell me how we begin."

Riend felt the answer rise without hesitation. "We begin with trust. With choice."

Madelyne exhaled slowly. "All right. Then let's try."

Riend inclined her head. "Yes. Let us."

As if a long-held spell finally loosened, the water stirred. Forest and cavern sounds drifted gently across the meadow. The river flowed between their hands, carrying the first fragile threads of peace toward a future Riend had never dared imagine.