The air was humid when Lidiyana awoke, and she felt sticky with her own sweat. The air felt so thick with moisture that it was constricting and unkind to her. In spite of this, her mouth was horrifically dry. Gareth was nowhere to be seen, but his book was over on the table, the dark red leather standing out in the morning’s light. The morning sunlight proved the most gorgeous sight yet - it caught the dust in the air.
She stared into it for a long time, enjoying it. She struggled up into a sitting position. The pain she felt now was small and aching. It wasn’t comparable to her birth, and she could now parse it down to specific parts of her body as she examined herself. It followed lines on her body. Two lines around her arms, and two around her…
Thighs. Thighs was the word.
Another set of lines criss-crossed in her belly, and around her chest. She could feel a line that circled around her left eye, but of course she couldn’t see it. A second, duller pain exuded from the center of her limbs, and a third from deep in her belly, but the lines on the surface were far sharper in their delineation, and visible. She ran a finger along one of the lines on her belly, feeling the bumpy, black thing. Around it, the skin was inflamed, pinkish red
Experimentally, she poked and prodded at the line, and felt the individual components, the bumps and edges. It sparked a deeper pain, so she stopped, and made a mental note to not touch them. She leaned back, and sighed, basking in the light.
Very quickly, though, she became bored. She idly played with the sheet, drawing it around her shoulder and imagining that it was a sort of clothing. She saw little difference between what Gareth wore last night and the material of the sheet, and concluded that they must be similar at some level.
Lidiyana stared out, over the bed, and onto the wooden floor. She was curious, now, if she could manage to walk on her own. With care, she kicked her legs out over the edge, then slipped her feet onto the floor. Pulling the sheet around her shoulders and taking a deep breath in, she tried to stand.
The pain spiked through her legs, and almost immediately she collapsed. She just barely managed to hold on to the bed so that the rest of her wouldn’t hit the floor. She pulled herself upwards a bit with a heavy breath, and got into a stooped stance over the bed, still splay-legged. Distributing the weight between her limbs lessened the pain, and gave her confidence.
She heard footsteps, and then the creaking of wood behind her.
“Ah! You’re already awake.”
Gareth had already grabbed Lidiyana before she could see him, pulling her up by her waist and back onto the bed.
“Gggghk. Gareth,” she said, acknowledging him as he sat, but also frustrated. She wanted to try standing again, and he had interrupted her.
He undid the bundle of cloth that he had put under his arm. It was a length of white cloth with holes in it - not so dissimilar to her sheet.
“Here. Your chemise,” he said, handing it to her, “Do you mind putting it on? I’m wondering if you still remember how.”
It was vaguely familiar to her, as he handed it over. She turned it, examined it, and put her head and body through the largest hole, pulling it over herself. Then, she tried to put her head into the next hole she found, and floundered to find the next step as she found herself blind.
“Sweetheart,” said Gareth in a chiding tone, “That’s where your arm goes.”
With a bit of finagling, Gareth guided her to the correct spot, and she managed to get her arms in the right holes. Another word came to mind, though she didn’t know how to pronounce it correctly.
“Thhhhe. Thhhanaas. Thhheeeeo.”
She grunted in frustration. The word was eluding her - it was there, in her mind, and she knew she knew how to say it, but her muscles wouldn’t obey her.
“Thanks?” offered Gareth.
“Thhhhank. Thhhanks,” she said, downcast and frustrated by the limitation.
He pulled her by her hips, drawing her in close.
“You’re welcome, my love. This just because of your condition. You needn't feel embarrassed by not knowing.”
The touch on her hips made her feel better. Being close to him, his heat, his smooth, honeyed voice - it was enough to make the pain less. Still, she had her questions. There was a deep inquisitiveness in her. If she had forgotten because of the accident, then it stood to reason that she had to learn again what she once knew, and she had to know more about her condition so that she could get better.
So she could be as perfect.
She pulled back the sleeve of the chemise to her shoulder, and pointed at the line.
“Whhh. What?”
“Stitches. Don’t touch those,” said Gareth, “They’re keeping your insides inside.”
“T-tuuuk?” Lidiyana said, distressed, “Touch?”
The words eluded her still, but the idea that what was inside her could go outside was horrifying, and she had already touched them. She pulled off the bottom of her chemise, and pointed frantically at her belly.
“Touch! Hhhh. Hur. Hur. Hurtt!”
Gareth grimaced as she revealed herself.
“Have you been picking at them? Where?”
She pointed at the part she had been touching. He gave her a quick once-over.
“Oh, they’re fine, sweetheart. It’s inflamed, but other than that, you are fine.”
He paused, and put the clothing back over her.
“You shouldn’t be so quick to remove your clothes, though. People will think.”
“Th. Thhhink what?”
“They,” he paused again, “They’ll think you’re trying to be rude. Be unkind.”
She remembered more on the subject now, and suddenly felt very embarrassed. She wasn’t fully sure on why she was embarrassed, but it filled her up.
“Gggg. Gareth. Muh-mmmakes. Lidiyana b-better.”
There was another word she wanted to add - an S-sounding word, she thought - but it wasn’t coming to her, so she avoided trying to say it.
“It was an honest mistake,” he said.
He embraced her, hugging her close.
“You’re probably starving, aren’t you? I think it’s about time you had some food. And it’s far too early for me to force you to walk around.”
He put an arm on her back, and looped another behind her knees.
“I’ve only done this once before, so excuse me if the ride is a little shaky.”
With a heavy, deep grunt, he lifted her up to his chest, and the surprise made Lidiyana shriek aloud, holding him around the neck and chest. It was somewhere between her delight and fear that she murmured incomprehensible syllables into his breast as he carried her out of the room, down the long flight of stairs, and into a room with a large, square table at its center. He set her on a chair. She leaned back in her seat for support, and gave a laugh. Gareth smiled at her.
“Hell’s bells, it’s been ages since I’ve had a proper breakfast. I’m going to make you and I something amazing.”
The idea of eating was beyond exciting - in a split second she had connected the idea of a breakfast to a meal and a meal to eating, the action of chewing with the mouth and swallowing. The keening in her belly was somewhat recontextualized as a hunger, a want as deep and as primal as she had felt when she needed Gareth to hold her last night. Lidiyana observed Gareth as he went to the place behind the half-wall. She could see his face bob up and down over the edge of the wall, occasionally going beneath to attend to something or looking over to her. Experimentally, she kicked her legs, still attempting to adapt to her weakness.
“It won’t be much longer till you’re really up and about,” said Gareth, raising his voice so that she could hear her over the sound of the crackling of something behind the wall, “It’s an annoyance now, obviously, but it’s definitely not forever.”
She gurgled in agreement back at him.
The popping sound of fire and something frying came to her as she waited, smiling without much thought. The smell of melting butter was distinct and potent in her mind, more so than most other sensations, and the keening in her stomach only grew with it. It was only a short while before Gareth returned with two plates in tow. He set one down in front of her, and the other in front of himself as he pulled up a chair.
The meal before her was familiar. She stared at it, examining the gold and white things, alongside which sat sliced bread and a- a kind of meat that she couldn’t put a word to.
“E-e-egg,” she said as Gareth handed her two shiny instruments, “Eee-eegg. Th-thhank-ks Gareth.”
“And what’s the other thing?” he said, pointing to the meat.
She couldn’t quite remember.
“Ggghk. K-kh. Ham?”
No, she thought, it wasn’t that. She knew this, she had to know this - and yet it wasn’t there.
“Vvvahk,” she grunted in frustration.
She turned her attention to the instruments.
“Ffffurk. Ffffark. Fffork!” she said excitedly, pointing to the fork, “Khkh. Kan-ife. Kanife. Knnnnife.”
“I’m really glad you know those,” he said, “but what’s the other one?”
She was frustrated, and upset, and embarrassed. It was on the tip of her tongue and she couldn’t find it - every time she got close, the idea got further and further out of her reach. She babbled, and then slammed her fist on the table in anger, rattling it. New pain shot through it, and she recoiled. Almost immediately, Gareth leaned in and grabbed the arm over the table.
“Stop, stop, love,” he whispered, “It’s just a word. I know it’s so upsetting to you - you’re a woman of intellect and it’s hard for you to feel so impeded. It’s a sausage, okay? It’s okay that you didn’t know the word.”
Lidiyana put her hand down, now ashamed of the way she acted. She remembered the word now.
“S-ss-orry. Sorry.”
“It’s okay. Really. Let’s just enjoy our breakfast. It’ll be like nothing happened.”
That didn’t satisfy her. It happened. She couldn’t pretend it hadn’t. Still, she wasn’t going to push and make it even more of a problem. She didn’t even think she had the words to push the issue, now that she thought on it. Trepidantly, she picked up the knife and fork while Gareth opened the white… case?
That didn’t seem like the right word, but it had butter in it, which Gareth spread on his bread with a knife.
Clumsily, she sectioned off a bit of egg white, and stabbed at it with the fork - it didn’t want to be picked up.
“You sure you’ve got that, Lidie?”
She shot him a glare for breaking her concentration, then nodded. Using both the fork and knife in conjunction, she managed to get the scrap of egg into her mouth. It was soft, vaguely savory, and warm. With a little effort, she got herself chewing, and then a strained swallow before she got to sectioning off yet another piece.
“The yolk is better tasting,” said Gareth, “But it’s also messier.”
He demonstrated by cutting into his egg’s golden center. It spilled out onto the grey-white plate, soft and liquid. Something stirred again in Lidiyana’s gut - not hunger, but disquiet. She stared uncomfortably as he sopped up the yolk with the bread and sliced the sausage to put some on it.
She set aside her discomfort. She was starting to understand, at least in part, what Gareth had said last night about making each other better, and her improving. It was easier for her muscles to move; for her mind to remember; and all of it seemed so much less fuzzy and indistinct than before. The gaps were still frustrating, yes, but she’d beat them with his help.
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She still didn’t quite get how she improved Gareth, but she was certain that she’d understand in time.
Lidiyana imitated him with care. She stretched her fingers, then properly sliced open the sausage and paired it with the bread and eggs, then bit in. The result was delicious, the yolk and bread spreading over her dry tongue and filling up her mouth. She started to devour it furiously, abandoning knife and fork altogether to chew down the soggy bread. She was finished quicker than she expected, and she felt a deep disappointment that there wasn’t more to eat.
Gareth finished shortly after her, passing her a napkin so that she could clean herself up. She hadn’t spilled any on herself, but she felt slightly embarrassed for getting so much on her mouth.
“So, Lidiyana, what would you like to do today?”
She didn’t expect that sort of question, or that level of freedom, and it startled her to a degree. What did she want?
“Re-rrr. Mmmmem. Berrr,” she said, sounding out the word very carefully, “Re. Mmmember. Mmmuh. Mmore.”
Gareth nodded thoughtfully.
“More of what? There are a lot of things I’d like to get to testing your memory on. Reading and writing, the sciences, me, your studies, yourself - I wouldn’t know where to start. That’s why I want you to make a choice.”
“S-sstudiesss? Wwhat?”
“You studied the thaumaturgic arts before you were injured.”
The word thaumaturgy awakened something in her as ferocious and deep as any hunger. The edges of deep memories. Of wandering guided by lone lights. Of pouring over old books and tomes - and there was a faint sense of meeting. Of meeting Gareth for the first time. She felt the impulse and warmth of that memory, and moved towards it.
“Lll. Lidiyana wwwants. Ssst. Study. Thaum. Taum. Thhhauma. Thhhaumaturgy.”
“Since you’re so interested in your studies, I want to get you reading. You aren’t as able to exercise your body on your own, so you might as well exercise your mind and fight off that ennui.”
She nodded. Reading did seem like an exciting prospect.
“You used to keep a journal, and you enjoyed it. I think trying to write again would be a good first step as well. After we’ve taught you that, I can go into some of the theory of thaumaturgy with you. You are too sick for practical applications - you understand, Lidiyana?”
“Y-yess.”
“Good.”
Lidiyana nodded. It did sound good. But first, she wanted to dispel the disquiet she felt earlier. To feel her love more genuinely.
“Hhhhhold. Hhhold me.”
She extended her arms outward, and Gareth got out of his chair and got behind her. He pulled her up and out of her chair, and into the cradle of his arms. Very softly, he swayed with her unsteady legs, and leaned her head into the crook of his neck. The disquiet was gone altogether with the soft act.
Another word came into the edges of her mind, fuzzy at first. It was an action, a movement, something interrelated to all of this. She didn’t have the words to ask for it.
She leaned into him, and put her lips to his cheek.
“Shh,” he said, “Shhh. Shhh.”
He stroked her hair as he pulled away slightly. Lidiyana was puzzled. Did she do something wrong? Did she make a mistake? He didn’t correct her, but he moved away from the embrace.
She didn’t push the issue. She’d learn, in time.
“Let’s get you outside, love,” he said, shifting her under his arm so that he could support her. He walked her out of the room where they ate, into a short hallway. At the end, he opened the door into what felt like blinding light. Lidiyana blinked once, twice, adjusting to the light, to the tall buildings around her, to the rough wood beneath her feet.
No, those weren’t buildings - trees was the word. They were trees, towering over her and creating a barrier around the clearing that the house was in. She gasped, then giggled at the fact she had forgotten the word for trees. It was wonderful, the nature, and she felt the light enter her skin and warm her. She had been born just a day ago. Now, more than ever, she was certain that she was alive.
“It’s a beautiful day to be outside. Let’s sit on the bench.”
He pointed to a small wooden bench, just beside the porch. Steadily, they progressed down the steps, and to the bench, where Lidiyana was laid down.
“Ah,” she said, closing her eyes and raising her face to the sun, “Ahhhh. Daaaay.”
“You’re good at remembering some things, at least.”
“Mmmmmmhmm!” she replied, quite proud of remembering what day was like.
“I think I’ll go get some books for you now. Are you fine on your own?”
“Yyy-yyyyes. Lidiyana. Ffuh-fine.”
He ruffled her hair a bit, and left her briefly, leaving the door hanging open before he returned to the yard, books in tow. He started talking before he even sat.
“I brought one of your old favorites, one you always talked about. The translated version of The Song of Astla.”
The word was familiar, as was the book he handed over. Very gingerly, she took it from him, and opened it to the first page, almost by rote. She stared into the symbols, at first incomprehensible. Black scribbles on black scribbles. Then, letters made themselves apparent after a minute’s concentration, and words were swift to follow, to her astonishment.
Under darken’d sky,
Which no moon knew,
Was born the babe named Astla.
Lidiyana didn’t recognize all the words - born especially eluded her - but it was astounding still that she could remember so much. It was a rush of information. She fiddled her fingers and traced over the line, again and again.
“You understand, don’t you? You can read?”
She nodded intensely.
“Can you read aloud?”
She shook her head. She already knew she’d butcher the words. It was too much
“Try. Humor me,” said Gareth, putting a soft hand on her shoulder again.
“U-uh-uuunder d-daaarken’d-d ssssky, whuh-wwwwwhich nno mmmon knnnew, wwwas b-br-boorn th-the ba-babe nnnnnamed Aaaastla. H-her.”
She paused, carefully looking over the next line.
“That’s perfect. That’s perfect.”
A word came to mind. An action, an act, a communication.
“Wr-rr. Wrrrr-rrr-ite. Wrrriteing,” she finally sputtered out.
“Yes!” said Gareth, “It is writing.”
She shook her head. She tried to plan out her next words carefully so that he’d understand what she actually wanted, and to make sure that she got her own name correct.
“Lidiyana. Wrrrrite.”
She pointed at herself, then the book.
“Lidiyana. Want. Wrrr. Wrrriting.”
“Do you want a different book?”
“Nnnno!” she groaned in frustration. “Yyyyes. Lidiyana. Wrrrite. Buh-book.”
“Wait- you want to write? You know how?”
She nodded.
“Tr-try.”
He pulled a brownish, wooden thing from his pocket, and took another one of the books from his lap, which he put into hers. The pages were all blank in this one. The brown thing was familiar as she took it in her hand.
For the first time since she first awoke, Lidiyana worked with true passion. The first lines were shaky, failed. Anxiously, she examined the other book again for reference on the form, the ideal, and copied, copied again where necessary. Gareth watched on in something like awe and observed her progress, never commenting or adding.
Then, her work was finished.
MY NAME IS LIDIYANA.
MY LOVER IS GARETH.
Gareth looked it over, then looked at her.
“This is easier for you, isn’t it? Than talking?”
She nodded intensely. The words here came far easier, the letters somehow more comprehensible than the syllables that frustrated her. He smiled, and held her so deeply that the book and pencil fell onto the bench.
“Okay. Okay! I still want you to try to talk, but if this is how you want to talk, I can- I will work with you, love.”
She pulled away, and took her prized book back. She scribbled down her response, quick to demonstrate her knowledge.
THANK YOU, GARETH.
She smiled broadly at him and his returning smile filled her with pride.
“Would you mind if I brought my work out here? And you can ask me about any of the words in The Song as you read it? And you can read it out loud, I wouldn’t be bothered.”
She nodded, and continued with her reading as he walked back to the house once more.
“Aaah-aaastla,” she said to no-one in particular. The name was familiar, and warm. Each line was a bit of a return, even with the lack of ability to understand each individual word. She started to copy down the words she didn’t quite understand.
BORN.
BASTARD.
YOUTH.
HOUNDS.
Each one had some associations - the broad syllables required to speak them, and their crudest rudiments of meaning, but the exact ones always escaped her. The first was difficult, the next dirty, the third a quality she couldn’t put a word to, and the last was somehow familiar in the same way Gareth was, distinct in a sense of fondness over anything else.
Gareth returned quick as he came, carrying another book and pencil, and sat himself close to her. Softly, he pulled out a pencil of his own and began to write.
“Alright,” he said, half-absorbed in his work, “Start asking away.”
She leaned over, and pointed to the list.
“Born is when someone comes into the world - from their mother. A bastard is someone whose mother is unmarried when they’re born. Youth is the time before you’re fully grown. Hounds are a kind of animal. A big dog, one for herding other animals or hunting them.”
Lidiyana nodded and kept reading, and writing down words, occasionally clarifying them with Gareth. He scribbled away in his book as she asked, carefully observing her.
“Are you enjoying the weather?” he asked, after a while, “Do you need shade, anything like that?”
She shook her head, and wrote.
THE WEATHER’S FINE.
“Your print is atrocious as before,” he noted, “Honestly, I’m glad that hasn’t changed.”
Astla’s story was not hard to follow. She was born a bastardess, a daughter of a concubine, and was quick-tempered, with a war-like nature. She did have some privileges, as she was taken in by her adoptive mother Queen Gesral; and she was ordered to take care of his prized hounds. And so the story went, on and on, about how she pretended to be a man and work as a soldier.
By the time that the sun hung low in the sky - low enough that it was starting to burn a shade of red - Lidiyana had made it about a quarter of the way into the book, and her hands and eyes were exhausted. Somehow, she felt like it should have been less draining, and yet the very act of reading was as heavy as the act of walking. The amount of words she didn’t know was genuinely frustrating
“We should head in soon, get you dinner,” said Gareth, looking at the sunset, “The nights are too cold for your sickness.”
She nodded, and put the books in her lap, taking Gareth’s books with her. He picked her up, and carried her again, back up to her bed. This time, there was no panic of falling. She trusted him to carry her the whole way, and he did, only faltering slightly on the stairs from her weight. When she landed on her bed, Lidiyana looked up at Gareth in awe. In total dependence, and in total love. She leaned back into her bed, and basked in the concept. It was glorious, and it excited her. She wished to push herself into him in spite of her exhaustion.
Gareth stared down at her, and took the books from her, placing them on the desks on the far wall.
“I’ll make you dinner. You just wait here. I’ll leave your books for you.”
She smiled at him as he laid her novel beside her, and waited. She didn’t read. She just closed her eyes, confident in his return.
When he did return, he roused her. The smell of beef and vegetables filled the air, and she spied two wooden bowls in his hand.
“I don’t have any fresh meat, so bouillon, radishes and greens will have to do.”
He passed one to her, spoon already in it, and she sat up on her bed to eat.
“I’m glad I got to spend the day with you. I want to try some more actual walking tomorrow - you won’t get better at it without trying.”
She nodded. It did seem like a good idea. She carefully moved the spoon to her mouth, savoring its taste. They ate in quiet, enjoying the red light of the sun as it came down through the window.
“I want you to be able to enjoy life, as much as possible. This struggle won’t be your whole life, but as long as you do struggle I will be here for you. Right by your side,” he said, “And your last procedure - I’m still searching for a way to properly anaesthetize you to it, and to ensure that it works safely. It’d remove those ugly stitches, and get you right back into shape.”
Ugly, Lidiyana noted. She knew what the word meant in a visceral sense, and it stung her on a deep level, right in her belly. She forgave it. She needed his help and it was an accident on his part. He hadn’t meant to harm her. He promised.
She finished her soup in silence. He continued without acknowledging the insult which irked her even further
“And of course, I want to introduce you to the broader course of literature. Some more academic stuff, beyond poetry and the classics. Does that sound good with you? We can even start tomorrow, if you want.”
“Y-y-yes. Yes.”
Gareth paused, got up, and lit a piece of wood for the two of them as the light continued to fade.
“You should sleep, love,” he said as he put a piece of burning wood into the base of the lamp. He put the glass covering over it as he returned.
“R-rrr. Reead. T-t-to. Me.”
He shifted again.
“Of course.”
As he began, Lidiyana moved her books to her bedside, then laid back and closed her eyes. She didn’t even listen to the content. She simply listened without thinking or focus on the words, and let his voice take her along. And she didn’t sleep, not at first, because she always wanted to hear him for one sentence longer, a word longer, a letter longer that she had him. It was only after she heard him snuff the light and slump into his chair for his own rest that she followed him into the depth of sleep.