Ch. 460 - A Moment of Peace

That night, they rode back together, and Millie clung to Simon’s back tighter than she really needed to for how slow his mount was trotting. Still, Simon didn’t complain. He enjoyed the moment, and when they got back to their little house, he almost didn’t want to make her let go.

“I know you’re going to leave soon,” she told him. “When the roof is done, or maybe when you put a door in, but…”

“Oh, you’ll still have me here a while longer,” Simon answered, trying to sound sympathetic even as he squinted to try to study her aura for clues on how to best diffuse this. “Let’s not forget the chimney and the—”

“I know,” she agreed. “I know. It’s just, before you go… If you… If we could… I just want you to know how much…”

She sighed. “I’m no good with words. What I mean is…” Drinking did a number on his clarity, so it took Simon a moment to glimpse the lust that swirled through her aura before she kissed him. Still, he was dazzled by the display. Pink swirls of affection had long been growing in her aura like a storm cloud threatening rain.

Tonight, whether it was from the drinking, their physical proximity, or some combination of the two, that gentle affection turned passionate.

When she kissed him, Simon’s first impulse was to push her away. However, all his other impulses were to kiss her back harder, and while his alcohol-addled brain tried to sort out those two diametrically opposed impulses, his hands started to wander her body all on their own.

Once they were groping her firm ass and pulling her more tightly to him, it was hard to think about much beyond the fact that he shouldn’t be doing this, even if he couldn’t remember exactly why.

That night, they made love under the open sky, in the shell of a home they’d built together, and it was perfect. Millie cried out his name loudly enough that any of their neighbors would have heard if they’d had any, and after they’d finished, she trembled like a leaf and clung to him until she fell asleep.

Simon tried to sleep too, but instead of clarity, he found only guilt and recriminations. So, instead of drifting off to join her, he peeled his lover off of him and stood to go pee in the long grass and do some thinking about what he’d done.

“Well, I guess I’m staying,” he said with a sigh as he strolled naked in the moonlight while Millie slept soundly in their tent.

Sex had been the last thing he’d intended on in all of this, but he wasn’t the ‘love ‘em and leave ‘em’ sort. So, whatever he’d intended to do with the rest of this life was effectively put on hold.

“That’s okay,” he told himself, studying the half moon hanging above them. “This is level 37, and I’ve got as many lives as it takes to get to the end.”

Simon mourned that decision for a time. As happy as he was building this home with Millie, he’d had his heart set on going deeper into the Pit this life. Mourning or not, though, it was hard to be morose when you were the object of a pretty young woman’s affections.

In fact, it was impossible to be unhappy about much of anything when sleeping with someone so beautiful. Still, Simon tried, and slowly, that niggling sense of dissatisfaction blossomed in his mind, and he resolved to discover some of the magics that had long eluded him. He didn’t just mean summoning cheeseburgers, either.

This is the lifetime I discover how to teleport, he told himself.

Such optimism wouldn’t help him with some of the harder questions. What should he do when Millie grew old? Should he try to make her live forever? What of their children and their children’s children? Did Simon have to follow all of them around to make sure they stayed safe and happy?

It was the same problem he had with the world, only in miniature. Could he live a million lives and save everyone? What would that world even look like? How many times did he have to relive the Pit before an appreciable percentage of the total world population was just him disguised as various other people?

Those worries were as serious as they were ridiculous, and for now, Simon suppressed them ruthlessly from his mind to focus on the now. His regret, however intense, was short-lived, and in the morning he greeted her with an unforced smile. Once he made peace with the fact that he’d knocked out several levels and could take some time for himself before he pressed on, he felt better. It's not like it would be wasted. While he hid his magical activities from her, she didn’t show much fear at his explanations. It wasn’t as if he had to choose between them.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

If he had, though, he just might have chosen her. Simon’s lives had blurred together to an extent that he barely remembered Earth, but he didn’t remember a whole lot more of his early time in the Pit. Centuries of living the same repetitive lives had taken a toll, and he had to look at what happened in which loop in his notes.

At this point, any event that made him feel this warmly and this present was to be cherished the way a dragon hoarded treasure. Someday, even this moment would blur into the infinite background of his many lives, but not today.

When Simon slept curled up tightly against his lover, he’d resolved not to tell her his decision for a few days, and not just because he needed to make sure he didn’t change his mind. He wanted to see whether their liaison had changed the dynamic between them in some fatal way, but it didn’t. Things were awkward between them that morning, but only until they’d broken their fast.

When they got back to work, things got back to normal quickly, though perhaps with a few more awkward silences and careless smiles. Simon saw no resentment in her aura, or even sadness. She was too lovestruck for any of that.

Instead of talking about what they’d done, she just spoke more than ever about the future. When Simon tried to bring up their tryst, she blushed and changed the topic, so he changed tactics too. “It sounds like you’ve got it all figured out. I’ve heard everything about fabrics, the flocks you’ll make them from, and even children. The only thing that’s missing is a husband.”

He’d intended to flirt with her, but he was clearly out of practice based on the grimace that flashed briefly across her face before she mumbled something about figuring that out sooner or later. After that, the tone was more muted, and they didn’t discuss things like that again until after dinner. This time, there was no alcohol to lubricate the conversation either, which made things harder.

When Simon came back from bathing in the chilly stream and returned to the smell of cooking meat, he finally decided he’d left her in suspense long enough. “I think the hole in your plan is my fault,” he started.

“Yours?” she asked. “How? I’d be dead or worse if not for you.”

You were almost dead and worse because of me, on several occasions, Simon thought, though he didn’t say it. He’d already brought down the mood enough.

“I don’t mean the killing,” he said, sitting down on the log beside the fire next to her that had become her usual seat. “I mean all of this. I brought you back here, and practically built you a whole life, and now you have trouble imagining anyone else in it.”

“That’s not your fault, it’s mine,” she answered. It was almost enough to make him grab her by the shoulders and shake her bodily. While he liked almost everything about Millie, her willingness to blame herself for all the world’s ills was a habit he needed to help her break, and not just because it was the twisted opposite of who he’d been once upon a time when nothing was ever his fault.

“This isn’t about sex,” Simon insisted, even if it wasn’t strictly true. “This is about, well, how I’ve grown to care about you, Millie. You’re… you’ve made me see that life is about more than blood and mud for the first time in a long time.”

He’d almost said she was the first woman that had made him feel that way, but such a sentiment was more cruel than conciliatory, and he dropped it immediately.

“I don’t know that I’m completely compatible with you, of course,” he continued. “I’m too old for you, for one. We also come from very different worlds, but if you’ll have me, I think we could be happy together.” Now that he’d broached the topic, he wasn’t going to let go of it until it had been dealt with completely. It had festered long enough, and now it needed to be lanced for both their sakes.

“I don’t know what to say,” she said after several seconds of stunned silence.

“Why don’t you start by telling me how you feel while we're both sober enough to speak plainly?” he responded. “I’d hate to think that our first moment of intimacy was me taking advantage of you, in even the smallest way.”

“No,” she insisted, taking his hand in both of hers. “You didn’t do that. I got too drunk and did something I shouldn’t have with you. You didn’t make me drink.”

“I’m staying,” he said with a note of finality to put an end to that line of thought entirely. “Here, with you. I’ve decided that I’m not going anywhere.”

“What? Why? You don’t have to stay just because of me,” she told him in a halting voice.

Simon had expected that and nodded. “I don’t have to do anything. The King himself couldn’t make me do anything I don’t want. Neither a den of monsters nor a Murani army could do so either. I make my own choices, and I’m choosing to stay with you.”

“But you need to be a hero, don’t you?” she followed up with skepticism. “Surely you have others to save and—”

Simon silenced her this time with a kiss. It was more effective than words. It lingered, and so did the silence that followed, and when the building anxiety of her words had dissipated, he said, “There’s always more people to save, here and there and everywhere. If I live a thousand lives, I can’t save them all, but for the rest of this life, I plan on saving you, and anyone else that needs help in this valley.”

That conversation might have continued for hours, but the smell of burning meat quickly put an end to it as they tended to their meal. After that, they ate in relative silence, but once they adjourned to their tent for the evening, well, words led to feelings, and feelings led to actions, and it would have been hard for anyone to call their evening quiet.