9author's note: I pretty much ship everyone with everyone in Graces it seems. I've wanted to try my hand at a RichardxSophie for a while, but it took me a long while to become comfortable enough with the idea to do so. Even now I'm still a little nervous about this. Either way, here you have it; this is set roughly five years after the end of the game, and the rating is just to be safe. Enjoy.
eclipse
Sophie's womanhood is something like a paradox.
She is a woman - and yet she isn't. Technically, if one wanted to be technical about such things, she is a humanoid with the shape of an adult female. But if her friends were to be asked, they would insist that she is as good as human, that she experiences emotions like them, and that they will never think of her as anything but "Sophie." To them, the being once called Protos Heis is a dream, a distant memory, and in its place is a lovely young woman whose eyes are full of love and laughter, her hands made to nurture and not to fight.
Sophie knows what her friends think of her, of course. But she isn't quite sure what she thinks of herself. And she ponders this sort of paradox briefly as she perches on the edge of the King of Windor's bed, her hands folded together in her lap, watching him pace rapidly back and forth. Richard - who is twenty-three now, just a little taller and his voice a little deeper - is missing his shirt, and Sophie's long hair is tangled, but she doesn't notice these things. She only notices the way he is frowning, and she wonders in that moment if it is because she isn't a woman after all.
"Richard," she tries, softly, her gaze following him as he turns on his heel to pace across the room again, one of his hands held to his chin, "what is it?"
"I can't, Sophie."
"You can't... what?"
"You know very well - " he starts; then, as if he has recognized the frustration in his voice, halts his sentence before it can be completed. She sees the lump in his throat move as he swallows, as he strides past her again, his blonde hair fluttering around the tops of his shoulders. "I can't do this," he says instead, firmly, gesturing vaguely with his free hand at his bed, at her dishieveled appearance. "It would be taking advantage of you."
Years before, Sophie might have cocked her head and asked "why?" in response to this remark. But she knows why. It is because Richard is gentle, and kind, and doesn't want to hurt her. It is because he wants her to be happy, but doesn't believe that he can give her that happiness himself. And perhaps a little part of him, she thinks, is scared - because despite appearances, she isn't human.
It's because if he grows to love her, and she him, they will have to one day face the reality that he will die, and she will be alone. She will have the children to look after, of course, and their children as well ... but she will have lost a lover. And they have both seen what such a loss does to people. Even now they can see what it has done to Malik -
Richard sighs, stopping briefly at the window against one wall, looking out into the evening that is creeping up on Barona. The sky is still bright in the distance, intermingled shades of pale blue and orange and yellow sun, but the night is coming fast. Sophie thinks that she should turn on a light, but she doesn't dare move. "What happened to us?" she hears him murmur, apparently forgetting just how good her hearing is. "We were once merely friends, and now this..."
"We were enemies, too." She twines her fingers together, bowing her head and closing her eyes. "Weren't we?"
"I wish I hadn't..." His voice grows softer, but she doesn't miss a single word. "I had no desire to hurt you, Sophie. And I have no desire to hurt you now. But this is different than the time that Lambda took control of me. This pain could be so much worse. If I were to... to do something to you, something wrong - "
"Richard." She rarely interrupts him, but she does now, speaking his name firmly. "You won't hurt me."
"How can you know?" She hears a rustle of clothing, and as she opens her eyes she sees him turn from the window, taking two hesitant steps in the direction of his bed. "When I am older, Sophie, you will be the same as you are now. Could you really bear the weight of being with me as I age, knowing you will always remain the same?"
She nods, slowly. "I want to - to try."
"But," he starts, and there is a tremor in his voice, "I can't promise you anything, any kind of happiness or joy - "
"I already have that." She smiles, tilting her head slightly, looking up at him. "Being with you makes me happy. And I'm happy knowing I can go see Asbel and Cheria whenever I want." Her eyes move to the window for just a moment. "I'm happy because I have a garden of my own outside the castle. And I'm happy because you've taught me so many things, more than I ever could have learned on my own."
"Sophie..."
"I know that I'll never be human." She keeps her gaze locked on his, refusing to falter, because the most important thing to her right now is him - is convincing him that she will be alright, that he can't and won't hurt her, regardless of what he chooses to do. "And that's... okay." She nods again. "It will be... sad... when everyone goes away. But I have a purpose. And being able to fulfill my promise to watch over everyone will make me happy. Even if I'm sad for a little while... I won't ever forget the people I have loved."
He takes a few steps more in her direction, his expression growing less severe as he moves. She isn't sure if it is a defeat or a victory - but as he draws near she feels herself shiver with an emotion that is still altogether unfamiliar to her. "I don't understand it," he says, his hands falling to his sides. "How can you be so strong...?"
"I don't know," she admits, and it is the truth. "But I don't want you to run away, Richard. I want..." At this she pauses, looking down at her hands clasped together, and her cheeks grow warm. "I want you to be close to me."
"Close to you?"
"Yes." There is a soft creak beside her, and she realizes that he has made his way back to the bed, that he is sitting on the edge of the mattress to one side, leaning against the tall wooden bedpost. "I want you to think of me as... as a woman."
His voice is low, his eyes having shifted back to the window, as if looking at her will cause some kind of unstoppable chain reaction - and she suspects that it might. "Who taught you to say such a thing?"
"No one."
"I can't - "
"You can," she interrupts, urgently, and reaches out to touch one of his hands. He stiffens, but then he wraps his fingers around her wrist and holds on tightly, and his touch sends a shiver through her that is almost dramatic in the way it moves her body. "Richard," she speaks, "don't be afraid. I promise I won't be hurt. I want..." She takes in a breath, and with her free hand she makes a vague gesture of her own, her cheeks growing warmer than before. "... this."
"Can you even..." In the low light of his room it is hard to tell, but she thinks she can see him blushing, his shoulders tensing. "If Asbel were to find out..."
"I won't tell Asbel," she promises, smiling softly at the thought of the man she considers her father, knowing full well how protective he is of her, even if he tries hard to keep her from noticing. "Or Cheria. It will be our own little secret. Just like our fort. Do you remember that?"
The way he speaks her name makes her tremble. Her name has always been precious, the most important gift she has ever received, but in Richard's mouth it is something else entirely. "Sophie..."
"Yes?"
He shifts on the bed, facing her, and when he takes her chin in one hand she draws in a breath and holds it. The way he looks at her is unfamiliar, but she thinks it is because her words have finally convinced him to act, that she is mere moments from being shown the love and affection she has craved -
"Sophie," he says again, and this time her name is a mere whisper, passes from his lips before he closes the distance between them. It isn't the first time they have kissed - but before this moment his kisses have been chaste, innocent, and have filled her heart with a light, fluttery kind of happiness. But this time is different, and there is a well-suppressed wanting in his movements. She knows his loneliness, can feel it in the kiss, and her heart aches for him; she wants to rid him of it, to convince him that he will never be alone. He kisses her again, and this time she wraps her arms around his back, leaning into him, and it's then that he surrenders.
Richard's movements are tender and careful, never forceful, and when he presses her into the bed, his long fingers tracing the curve of her cheek, the way she trembles is a violent contrast to his calm composure. He murmurs questions to her and she continues to give her consent, watching him move, one of her hands in his hair and the other gripping the sheets to her side. Gradually her breathing quickens, and then soft noises pass from between her lips, and the heat that builds low in the pit of her stomach creeps up through her body. She doesn't question herself because there is no time to think about it, no time to wonder if she is doing things right or wrong, because Richard's hands are on her and in her world there is nothing else.
She gives herself to him willingly, and he does the same, and there is no pain, no regrets, their need and wanting eclipsing their doubts and their fears. And when it is over and they curl together on the bed, a tangle of limbs and a sheet that has twisted itself around their legs, she breathes her love into his ear and he smiles into her skin. His fingers comb her hair out of her eyes and pass across her lips, and his response is low but firm and true, and in this moment she knows that there is nothing else she can learn about what it is like to be a woman.
