Pain in the ribs, armor… broken. Was that blood ? Hard to see with the helmet.

Stumbling on the now cold battlefield among the dead of the day, the Warden could barely think. Leaning on the walls of the destroyed castle, she was walking, one foot after the other, her sword scraping the ground behind her. She had been left for dead, another corpse to feed the ever hungry gods of death. But she was alive after all. Barely. Probably not for long.

She heard a scream. Not far from here. In one of the houses. A scream of fear.

Her blood boiled, her body strengthened, the old Code she had devoted her life to rang in her hand like the commanding voice of the Gods themselves. Her sword in hand, she hurried to the screams, a small house, half burned. She had killed a Samurai there in the battle. She could see his corpse near the open door. Like a hurricane, she barged in, ready to slice in half whatever was pouring fear in the heart of those under her protection.

They were four poor sods, all glued together in the back of the small house. Pillagers, hoping to feed their family by selling whatever they could find, including their own dignity. And in front of them, armed with a long Naginata, a Nobushi. The masked figure was immobile, facing the warden she had heard come a mile away, her masked figure completely hiding her emotions.

The Warden stopped herself, with difficulties. Despite the adrenaline coursing through her, she felt her body failing. She didn't have long. But still, she didn't forget her training. Observing, anticipating, and choosing the best option. The Nobushi was barely wearing any armor, but her stance was cryptic, and long was her reach. She was ready to attack from any angle, and she could kill her before she got close enough. But one thing seemed off. What was she doing here? Then, she saw her bag on the side.

Food. She came here to grab food.

Hesitation coursed through the warden like the venom of a deadly snake. She had come to protect the innocent, to fulfill her duty. But before her was nothing but terrified pillagers and a hungry warrior. Was it worth giving her life? More blood, more death, for a bag? Solemnly, she decided.

Limping, she carefully got around the food thief. The Nobushi slowly pivoted, always facing her, never letting her guard down, and carefully observing as the Warden placed herself between her and the pillager.

Then, by a movement of the sword, she pointed at the exit.

The Nobushi tilted her head, visibly a bit surprised. Then, carefully, she began to walk backward, toward the door. A quick look outside assured her that it wasn't an ambush. Then she left.

"By blood, I thought we were dead!

-… Be… careful. Might… still be there.

-Hey You alright?"

The Warden planted her sword on the ground, using her last strength to keep herself on her two feet. The pain had faded now, she felt the darkness growing in her. Her body fell asleep. The last sleep. But she had done her duty, she had saved innocents.

"Sell… my sword… My armor… May fate…"

She fell into oblivion before her last word could escape her mouth.

Water. Fresh, cold, running on her skin, filling the air. A fresh and humid wind, grazing her skin. Rough fabric. Her tunic, wet. Floating. A cloth, soaked, cold, rubbing against her arm.

Come and go. Come and go. Slowly. Carefully. Pouring water on her. Disappearing, only to reappear seconds later, soaked again. Clean again. Come and go. Methodically.

And a song. A whisper. A melody hummed, just above the sound of water, falling on the stone. A rhythm, low, slow. Come and go. She held on to it. She was.

She was alive.

Her eyes opened, only to see the blurred outlines of a roof made of wild stone, a cavern. She tried to move, to understand what was happening, but a firm hand pinned her on her back. No. It just, gently held her, a cold hand soaked in water. Her body was too weak to move. She began to feel pain again. But she endured and tilted her head to see who was touching her. She froze.

Above her, kneeling besides her was a woman of the Chosen. Her eyes, little slit without expression. Her black hair let down in an obsidian cascade on the toned skin of her back. She was half naked, the remnant of her cloths torn to pieces near her knees. The Warden recognized the fabric. She had seen it before passing out. The Nobushi.

The gentle hand became heavy, and despite her best efforts, she couldn't keep her head out of the ground. Soon it tilted backward, hitting a thin layer of cloth behind her head. She only saw the stone now, her eyes closing of exhaustion. Then the humming continued. Slowly. Come and go.

Come and go.

She woke up again.

Her mind was clear this time. She was lying down on a bed of cloth over a relatively even ground. Judging by the roof and the smell of nature in the air, they were probably in some sort of little cave, in a forest. There was a forest near the battlefield where she fell. Had she been carried here?

Her body felt sore, and her wounds were paining her. But she felt warm, despite the blanket too small that was covering her, and the smell of ash, a sign that a fire nearby had died out.

She was alive. Definitely alive. But how? Why did that enemy helped her? Did she really? And where was she?

That last question answered itself as she heard a small snore near her shoulder. And it also explained why she felt so warm. The small body of the Nobushi was sprawled over her. She couldn't see it because of the blanket, but she felt her naked body slowly move as she breathed, her cheek buried just above her breast, her hands clinging to her shoulder, even asleep. She was so small! In the house, she looked like a predator, but from up close, it was hard to see her as a mortal enemy.

In fact, she felt embarrassed.

Never, since her days of apprentice, had she felt the warm touch of someone's skin. She turned her mind away, remembering her training. Her oath. First, she tried to look around, but neither her armor nor her sword were on sight. She did asked the pillager to rob her after all. She then contemplated her savior with a new eye, and wondered an instant. Should she kill her now?

As if she had read her mind, the Nobushi's breath stilled. Her hands slightly relaxed. She could feel her feet reaching for a support. The Warden smiled. Never underestimate the Chosen.

She moved her own hand in an effort to pat her arm, signifying her acknowledgment of the situation, but a violent pain interrupted her effort. Instantly, the Nobushi got up, leaving only a cold imprint on the knight's bare skin. With expert hands, the Chosen examined the bandages. It is then that the Warden realized she was covered with it. All her wounds, large and small, were covered with clean cloths. It must had took hours and hours to made them, change them, clean the wounds and tend the fire.

A bit set back by the realization, she didn't immediately reacted when the woman took her shoulders and helped her to sit. She then took a bowl of soup besides her and offered a spoon full of it. The smell was awful, but she felt her body demand nourishment. With haste, she began to eat, voraciously. The crystalline laugh of her healer was enigmatic. Was she mocking her? She didn't care. She just ate, for seconds that felt like an eternity.

Her movements were severely restrained by her wounds, but she managed to eat it all without too much of a problem. Even if it felt a bit humiliating to have a Chosen giving her food, she knew she had to show she was grateful somehow.

"Thanks." she grumbled.

Her interlocutor didn't know the words, but she seems to understand their meaning. By accident, her eyes wandered on the naked torso of the Nobushi, her scared skin, her firm muscles, her small breasts. She felt herself blushing and looked away. It wasn't the time. It was never the time.

If the Nobushi caught her glimpse, she didn't react to it. She simply designated herself with her hand, applying her palm just under her throat.

"Naomi", she said.

She then applied her hand in the same place, on the knight. The warm touch was welcome.

"Warden", she simply replied.

Naomi had a little laugh, and pointed at something against the wall. I was her armor, or what little she had.

"Nobushi, she said pointing at her mask. Nobushi, she repeated, showing her weapon. Naomi, she finally said, pointing at her."

The knight hesitated. She understood, but could she explain something so deep at someone she couldn't even speak to. Even to other knights, she was at a loss of words. But she tried nonetheless.

Slowly, in order not to reopen her wounds, she pointed at her armor and weapon, and then at Naomi.

"Nobushi?

-Aye" she answered with a smile.

The warden then did the same, but pointing at herself.

"Warden."

Naomi acquiesced again.

She then showed her arm.

"Warden"

Her legs.

"Warden"

Her head.

"Warden"

And finally, her heart.

"Warden"

Naomi observed the scene in quiet contemplation. As the warden tried to explain her oath, she broke her stoic expression and showed… sadness. Her face decomposed in an enigmatic show of emotions the warden did not fully understand, but the gravity of it all left little doubt. She understood. As a Warden, she had left all she had been behind to dedicate herself, body and soul, to her cause. To peace, to people, to protection, to honor, whatever the cost. Whatever the cost.

It was an oath few took the time to ponder upon, to appreciate the depth.

To see a stranger show understanding, empathy…

She smiled.

The Nobushi applied her hand to her shoulder and slowly helped her lied back again. It was outrageous how tired she felt. Her savior then got up, took her mask and naginata and then headed outside. It wasn't long before a weariness took over the warden, and she fell asleep. An uncomfortable sleep filled with strange dreams. Dreams she had forsaken long ago.

She woke up again. She was alone on her bed. The fire at her side warmed their alcove and bathed in it in scent of pine. She didn't move just yet, didn't even open her eyes. She was alone. It was an odd feeling, for she had slept and woken up alone for the past 20 years. Living on the battlefield, amid the fear and the soldiers, in a destroyed barns, in a ruined castles, in a besieged fortresses. The atmosphere was her real home, her few nights of peace were devoted to prayer, meditation, pondering on her life's choices, her duty.

But there, she thought of nothing. There wasn't any despair around her, no pressure of urgency, no death waiting to pass its judgment that very day. There wasn't the peace of mind that followed said judgment, the calm breeze of rest, both mental and physical, she had grown to cultivate in the long nights. There wasn't anything but a gaping void in her. A thirst she chose not to know. Something… forbidden.

Raising on her elbows, she observed where she was for the first time. The cave was little more than a breach in a rock that nature had covered with green long ago. She could see the "entrance" in front of her, and the obscurity of night beyond. Behind her, nothing but a few bags. Some big, some small, all painted with Japanese symbol she did not understood. She recognized the food from destroyed house where she passed out.

"Warden."

The voice came from the wall. It was Naomi. She had been immobile, blending perfectly with the cave's wall. And she was wearing her mask and armor, despite the lack of cloth. Again that faceless expression was pointed at the knight. Somehow this time, she felt a bit hurt by the implication.

"Eat"

She said in a heavy accent, pointing at a bowl of soup.

Without a word, the wounded soldier sat down and took the bowl besides her. She did so feeling her skin stretch, her wounds twisting around her new scars. But she did so alone, and that was a victory. The soup was better warm, and still awful. She tried to smile, but when she looked up, she saw only a stoic face of wood. A reminder that they were in different side. And all pleasure vanished.

They sat there, silently. One eating, one watching.

Thousands of thoughts battled in the knights mind, but her discipline kept them all in check. There was one insistent question though. Why did the Nobushi saved her.

"Na…" she began, her sore throat hurting at the foreign words.

"Naze… hu… korozu… hi"

Her Japanese was poor. Her order kept extensive libraries and translation materials, but in all these years, she never but kill the Chosen that stood before her. Somehow she had hoped to make Naomi smile with her poor attempt, but that mask…

Still, she reacted, tilting her head, giving herself the looks of some forest spirit pondering on a strange creature. She spoke again, her accent nearly making her broken words unintelligible.

"You… Cover… hum. Plotect… people.

-Yes… hum. Bou… Bouei? No. Kabau.

-I Protect People."

She pointed at the bags at the end of the cave.

"For my people."

She stopped a bit, then simply said.

"Warden. You… are people."

She looked away.
"Watashi wa machigatte imashita."

She stood up, weapon in hand. For an instant, the knight thought she was gong to die, the way the nobushi was looking at her. And somehow, it didn't distress her. She just… looked back. Then, the chosen simply left her alone, walking into the night. Alone again.

For long minutes, the warden wondered what had happened. She had been saved because the nobushi considered her worthy of being protected, because she was a warden. Because she protected people herself. Again, her oath had saved her life. But somehow, this time, it felt empty. She didn't had to read Naomi's face to read disappointment, and she was hurt in return. This place was eerie, so far away from the battles, from… everything. It troubled her, dismantled her certitudes.

But she had to be strong. She needed to rest.

Yes, going away now would be too dangerous. She needed.. to act like a warden again.

Even if it meant dying.

When the Nobushi returned with wood under her arm, she found the knight had been tending to the flames. They were but embers now, but their refuge was dry and warm. A soup, made of the few bits of food she had taken from the bags was boiling a bit. It would soon be ready. The chosen just stood there, at the entrance of the cave, her face as invisible as her thoughts. It was still dark outside, and she was wearing almost nothing due to most of her cloth having become bandages. The knight could see her shivering.

Without a word, she invited her near the fire.

Cautiously, the Nobushi approached, and slowly sat down, weapon in hand. It was hard to imagine that the same person had healed and cared for the Warden. Now she felt like another stranger. As if… well, as it had all been a dream.

They sat there, silent. And when the Warden offered her a bowl, she simply took it, but did not remove her mask or grab a spoon. She just stood, motionless, staring at her.

After a few minutes of silence, only interrupted by the occasional animal outside, she finally asked.

"Naze kibishii?"

Why was she so cold, or so the warden tried to ask.

She shouldn't have cared. But that void in her. It demanded answers. It demanded… to be filled.

The Nobushi didn't budge one bit.

"Warden. Same as Samurai, she began. Samurai say: I protect people. Samurai say: I am all samurai."

Her hands began to tremble.

"Then, samurai make war. Samurai anger others. Samurai take blade and kill. And other come to kill people. And samurai not there."

Her voice was breaking up. The knight felt horrible. Horrible because it rang so true to her ear. She had made an oath, to protect people, to spare them the horrors of war. Yet, in years of service, she had been on more battlefield than any scavenger. She had killed far more than she had saved. Yes, true, she had kill in defense, she had killed invaders. But, just as often, she had gone out of her land to strike the invaders, to prevent them from coming in the first place.

She was a cog of war.

Naomi was now barely containing herself.

"I protect people! From others! From Samurai! You..."

She stopped. Her rage vanished. Her body went from anger to sorrow.

"You not people. You Warden. I… Nobushi."

She tried to stand up, but a hand grabbed her arm before she could. The knight had acted on impulse. She was overflown with emotions she had left buried. Guilt. Shame. And needs that she had ignored. She couldn't let her go. Not like that. She wasn't just a warden, and her savior wasn't just a chosen. This war… this endless bloodbath. It had no meaning anymore. Not here. Not now.

"Anata wa… she began. Naomi. Watashi..."

Words stopped in her throat. It had been so long. She felt like she was breaking her promise. But that was the point wasn't it. What good is an oath to protect people, if it isolates you from others? What good is an oath, if you can read only contempt in the eyes of those you should protect. Of those who should be your allied?

"Watashi… Gwendolen".

She felt tears, shame. She had said her name. She had broken something in her. Unable to bear it, she just let go of Naomi and turn her head away. She didn't want to be seen like this. She didn't want to feel like this. The whole situation was a disaster. Nothing was at it should be. She didn't have her sword, she didn't have an armor. At this moment, she wished the gods for an enemy, someone to kill, so it all felt right again. And she felt even more shame at the thought. What was she?

Who was she?

In this cave, far from war, she just didn't know any more.

The sound of wood floor woke her up. A hand, a damaged hand, rough like old wood, softly touched her face and turned it gently toward Naomi. She had shed her mask. She was so beautiful. So close. So… human.

Without a thought, Gwen leaned forward and pressed her lips against Naomi. Her lips, like bramble branches, scratching and clawing. Dry, fleshy lips on her own damaged mouth, smelling of sweat and bad soup. Contact with another human, that wasn't death or pain. It lasted but a second.

It was a bliss beyond imagining.

Naomi broke the contact, her eyes wide with surprise, her little nose twitching like a mouse. Gwen knew she should have felt sorry, ashamed. But she didn't care. She needed it, that contact. She needed to remember she was still human. But instead of anger, she saw in Naomi's eyes a longing, a desire. A void. Yes. They were the same.

Jumping on her like a wolf, Naomi tackled Gwen on the ground, fiercely pushing her lips on hers. Their burning chest rubbed against each other, Gwen grasping the Chosen's back as if she was going to evaporate, Naomi devouring the knight's mouth as if had been starved all her life. Her tongue poked the knight's lips and entered her mouth. Sweet wetness, soft, spared, undamaged tongue, twirling in her, licking her. She tried to reciprocate, but could barely go past the barrage of twirls of her companion.

She knew she had desired it since she had tended to her wounds. For an instant, she imagined Naomi's hand on her body, caressing her, softly, come and go. It aroused more that she thought possible. She tried to move her hands down Naomi's back, and free her of whatever loin she still had on her. Suddenly, she felt her wound stretch, and an intense pain coursed her arm and side, making her arch back.

The chosen interrupted her kiss, snapping out of her relentless desire. Unwittingly, she had rubbed against several of the knight's bandage, with predictable results. But before her surprised look and embarrassment, Gwen could only laugh, even through the pain. She was lying down in a cave, wounded, the most beautiful woman on earth riding her, desiring her. It was all… all so… good.

Gwen slipped her hand behind the Naomi's pants. She squealed, as Gwen's finger reached her moist bush, and began to work her. On all four above her, Naomi closed her eyes and began to pant. Fingers swiped beneath her, caressing her, rubbing against her lips. As they poke at the entrance, she let out a moan of pleasure, and of anticipation. She roughly grabbed Gwen's jaw and moved her head to the side, planting a bite on her throat.

The knight felt herself fading, her whole body trembled with pleasure as her companion relentlessly, licked, bit, and kissed her. Never had she suspected such sensitivity, and for a time, she was tempted to let go and enjoy the marvelous pleasure of the flesh. But she couldn't shake the feeling of competition. And she wouldn't lose.

She wrapped her other arm around Naomi's waist, and pressed her strongly against her. The sheer violence of the act made her finger penetrate Naomi, whose bush was now rubbing against Gwen's whole hand. She heavily sighted, exhaling burning air along her neck, making the knight shiver with pleasure. As she felt her fingers as wrapped in soaked velvet, she moved them, slowly, as surveying and unexplored territory. Each move made her palm stiffen against the sensitive spots of the chosen, teasing her, taunting her. It wasn't long before she began to move her waist on her own, rubbing herself on the taller, stronger woman, letting her desire drip from her and soak the caressing hand.

She got up, abandoning her companion's neck and putting all her weight in the hand beneath her. Like a leopard, she stretched and moaned of pleasure, a great smile on her beautiful face. Gwen took the time to admire her. She had seen many battles, her body was scared and bruised, from her waist of her breast. While brushing her free hand against her, she couldn't help but wonder how many people she had killed. How many death would have to be avenged. For an instant, she saw her again as an enemy. Naomi saw it in her eyes, and, simply guided the hand to her mouth. Slowly, erotically, she bit her fingers and wrapped them in her mouth. Licking them. Sucking them. Gwen felt her own groin tingle unbearably.

She struggled a bit, rubbing her legs together, trying to extract her hand. But Naomi was weighting on it, locking it between her legs, enjoying the futile efforts of the knight as every movement sent waves of pleasure in her. Gwen saw it in her malicious gaze, she knew she wanted it. And she would deny it. But Gwen wasn't one to submit. Despite her injuries, she tensed her body and with one hand, lifted the nobushi. Surprised by the bold move, and distracted by the sudden pressure in her most sensible area, she fell forward, right into the powerful arms of the knight. But her fall was accompanied by the cascade of her hairs, and what began as a playful act ended with both of them both blind and suffocating as if drowning in a black see.

They stopped moving, and then began to laugh. A good laughter, an honest one. Not only because of the hair, but because it all so ridiculous. The world was drowning itself in blood out there, for petty reasons when they bothered to invent some. The Chosen and the Knights had been killing themselves for years, and both of them probably had a good part in it.

But there they were. Two women, entwine together, loving each other and drowning in hair.

They both smiled, and briefly kissed.

Like a snake, Naomi then crawled down, slowly covering Gwen's body with kisses and licks. The knight breathed sharply as she intentionally kissed near the wounds, where she was most sensitive. She could feel her body slither on her, the smell of her sweat, the sound of her tongue tracing lines along her firm muscles. Down, always down.

She then delicately spread her legs, uncovering her groin. She could feel her own heat burning her tight, her wetness spoil the carpet beneath her. But most of all, she felt her breath, slowly inhaling her, and blowing gently over her. She was trembling in anticipation, and Naomi was cruel or talented enough to let it last. Finally, after seconds of eternity, Gwen let out a moan of yearning, her hands reaching for Naomi's head. They met with hers, and as they both held tight to each other, the Chosen dove into her.

The pleasure was too much, she arched back, sending waves of pain throughout her body, struggling with the overwhelming power of Naomi's tongue on her. Her whole body was numb, and yet it screamed, it roared, it demanded more and more. It demanded what had been stolen to it, the passion, the desire, the need for someone. Naomi's lips covered her clitoris and sucked.

The knight let out a cry that resonated in the small cave. All control be damned, she entirely absorbed by the act. She waved, despite the pain that seemed to sing in unison with the pleasure coursing through her from her groin. She tried to look at Naomi, only seeing a mass of black hair locked between her legs, a sight that instantly aroused her even more. In the end, she grasped the chosen hands so tight she though she was about to break the little figure, but she held on, sucking and lapping. She would stop to let the desire build, only to suck again, electrocuting Gwen with unbearable passion. Each time she felt the pressure inside her grow. Pain, pleasure, it was all mixed up, all in one glorious power that seek to burst its way out of her. She held on, she resisted, she didn't wanted it out.

And then, Naomi bit her.

Everything went white as her scream escaped her lungs. Her body disappeared an instant, only for all to come crashing down in a torrent of pleasure. There were no thought, for a moment, the universe stop existing. There was only her, and Naomi. The chosen crawled back, rubbing her small body on her limp flesh, her mouth leaving and exquisite trail of saliva on her. She climbed to her head, and they gazed in each other. Desire, need. Another human.

They kissed deeply, gently. Naomi tasted a bit sour, a bit wet. It was the best thing she had ever tasted in her life, and she clumsily tried to insert her tongue in her mouth. Their kiss lasted, renewed as they caught their breath only to kiss again. Gwen caressed Naomi's hair, massaging her head and grazing her back. She then let an unexpected moan of pleasure.

The knight realized that Naomi had now locked herself on one of her leg, and was now rubbing herself on her. Her senses were still a bit off after her explosion, but the face of her mate said it all. She was dominated by desire and longing, and she was taking it. Gwen smiled, and kissed her in the neck, making the chosen sigh with soft pleasure. She had given her all she had, and what she made her experience had been earth shattering. She would give all for her.

She leaned her on the side, and raised her leg, pressing it against her groin. She could feel her desire run on her flesh, as Naomi rubbed herself with more intensity. Her hands clung to Gwen's neck, their fingers burying themselves in her hair, grasping them, pulling them. She locked her eyes into her gaze, defiant, as if she dared the knight to keep her from taking what was rightfully hers. And Gwen was willing to play along.

By on hand, she grasped her long black hair and pulled it a bit, tilting her head backward. Naomi's smile erased all worry that she was doing something wrong, which, considering it was her first time in years, was an accomplishment she felt proud about. Her other hand then wandered on Naomi's body, each grazing accompanied by a gasp of pleasure, and a firm stroke of her waist against her leg. Her fingers touched her erect nipples, and Naomi went silent. She was preparing herself, and Gwen lived to satisfy.

She pinched it while pulling her hair more firmly, and Naomi let out a silent cry of pleasure, her eyes closed, her mind lost in ecstasy. Her little breast was minuscule in Gwen's firm hand, and she pulled it gently on each side. Then, she released a bit of pressure, allowing the blood to come back, only to pinch again, more tightly. On her leg, Naomi was now pressing herself so hard, she was hurting the knight a bit, but she didn't protest. She dared not interrupt Naomi's journey toward pleasure.

Slightly, the chosen's hand slided from Gwen's neck to her throat. She was still sensitive, and the mere touch sent shivers. But as Naomi extended her hand around it, she opened her eyes with a new expression. One that put fire in the knights entrails. She was silently begging. With a slow, deliberate movement, Gwen placed her hand around Naomi's throat. She squealed as she felt the rugged hand wrapping around her, grazing her thin layer of skin. The knight was impressed and aroused at the perspective. She had the life of the Nobushi in her hand, and the nobushi accepted it. No, she trusted her, with all her being. And so, she squeezed.

The sharp inhale got reduced to a thin stream of air. Her whole body tensed up, stricken with pleasure, stiff with excitement. Her mouth, opened and letting only a small whistling out, her eyes, opened and yet blind, drowned in the sensation of loss. And her head, tilting backward to allow Gwen's hand a larger grip.

The knight released it slightly, allowing her partner of inhale a great bit of air. She was gasping, red, nearly crying, but her eyes were as bright and energetic as ever. And defiant as always. She scratched her with her nail, leaving a small mark of the knight's throat. A taunt. A game she was all but ready to play.

She squeezed again, and this time in a way that forced her head all the way back. She couldn't see Gwen or her own body anymore. And so, the knight reached for Naomi's groin. She was tense as wood, trying to move, to keep her hand from touching her most precious place, but it was no use. Too clumsy, too weak, Naomi couldn't stop Gwen's hand as she buried its finger between she and her tight. And relentlessly pinched her. She tried to cry, but could barely let a sound out, she tried to push the hand away and met with the irresistible strengh of the knight. She even tried unlock herself, but her own stiffness prevented her from controlling her body. At that moment, at her most vulnerable state, she released a powerful spasm.

Gwen witnessed her tense up uncontrollably, her hands clawing the air, her legs crushing the tight they were wrapped around, her tongue pointing out of her gaping mouth. It lasted for seconds, to the point Gwen worried something might have been wrong. But she relaxed, her legs went limp, her arms fell down, and, as the knight released her grip, she breathed a long long sigh of satisfaction.

That was it. They did it. There was a victory here, but she was too overwhelmed to understand what had happened. She just took the blanket, cover them both, and closed her eyes as Naomi snuggled against her.

They didn't feel bad. But the sun was rising, and they both knew what it meant.

For the first time in her life, Gwendolen woke up next to a woman, snuggled against, looking at her with love, and she looked back with the same feeling. And it felt good, priceless. There would never be any words worthy of that moment. It was just right.

It had been right.

She got up first, letting Naomi alone under the blanket. She was awake, but she didn't want to move. She didn't want to the night to end, and neither did the night.

Her body was sore, from the passion of the night, but also from the lack of activity. Her body was healing well, enough for her to be able to make it back to her lands. Her cloths were still there, filthy with sweat and stiffen by blood. It would be enough.

"Stay."

The plea was heartbreaking, for she too longed to preserve whatever they had here. But it was not possible.

"Anata wa Naomi, the warden answered, watashi Gwendolen."

They smiled at each other. But she continued.

"We protect people. It is our... Yakusoku. Koko ni wa dare mo imasen "

Her smile faded, for she knew it was true. They were both protectors of their people, one had sworn an oath to help the helpless, the other simply took arm against the war itself. It was more than their role, it was who they were, their purpose. How could they stay in that cave, when so many where in need, and there were no few of them. How could they ever be truly happy in such dark times.

Naomi stayed silent, her eyes lost in thoughts, her mind blank. How could the world be so cruel? How could the night dared to end?

But it was no use raging against the time. There was but one thing to do, go back. Go back to the hell of their era.

"I may find you. She whispered. I may kill you. Outside.

-Ee, acquiesced Gwen.

-You may… kill me.

-… Ee."

She stood up, letting the blanket slide from her naked body. She was expressionless again. As the mask she as all but too used to wear. She then simply walked in the cave and began to gather her things. Her bags. Her armor. Her blade. Her mask. The wheels of conflict will continue to turn. And that night would remain a dream. She kept herself from sighing. From crying. Her people would need help.

When she turned around, she simply gazed on her one time lover. One, and for eternity.

"Dōkutsu no yume, she said, when war end. Meet me here.

-Alive or dead, I'll wait for you Naomi."

And so they went their way. The war continued, demanding more and more deaths. And sometimes, somewhere, innocents had the luck to find the most powerful ally at their side. To find people who valued life outside the war. People who knew how precious and beautiful peace can be, even if, sometimes, it feels like a dream, a fantasy. Even if, after so much death, peace become a fairy tale told to children who never knew it.

A tale that could only happen in caves, far, far away.