Forging Ash of the Beloved
Book One: Air and Ash and All We Lost
By Jesse Annette
Posted: May 14th, 2026
Approx. Length: 2.9k words
Austra- Official
She rehearsed the question at least forty times. In the mirror, with her hair half combed through and her face too calm. In the margins of mission summaries she pretended to be editing for Daria. In the soft dark of Daria’s bed, whispered into the commander’s shoulder while Daria slept, terrified the words would spill out wrong and shatter the moment before it ever existed. Will you be my girlfriend?
It felt absurdly soft for a life built on lies. Because beneath the giddy flutter in her chest, beneath the thrill of Daria saying yes, beneath the warmth of the squad finally seeing them without secrecy, there was guilt. Heavy and sour, coiled low in her ribs like something waiting to strike.
Austra had spent weeks sending reports home: strategically vague, carefully blunted, just truthful enough to pass inspection, never enough to endanger the Crosswinds. She told herself it was harmless. She told herself she was protecting them. She told herself Daria would never have to know. But every half-truth scraped her raw. Every night she slipped into Daria’s bed and felt Daria’s hand tighten on her waist in sleep, possessive only in the way trust becomes instinct. Austra wondered if Daria could feel the betrayal under her skin. If the squad sensed the shadow she carried. If love made her reckless. If she deserved any of this at all.
Tonight, she decided to pretend she did. Daria sat at her table reading mission reports, perfectly composed and infuriatingly steady, hair loose at her shoulders, golden eyes scanning parchment like it had personally offended her. Austra paced behind her like a trapped wind spirit, hands fisting and releasing, heart punching hard enough to bruise. Finally she blurted, “Daria?”
Daria didn’t look up. “You’re vibrating. Stop it.”
Austra froze. Her throat tightened. But she forced the words out anyway. “I… want to ask you something.”
Daria lifted her head. Her gaze was sharp, the kind of look that could cut through armor. Austra swallowed, suddenly fourteen again, suddenly terrified of being seen. “I was wondering if…” Her voice shook. She hated it. She steadied it. “If you would want to be my girlfriend.”
The word landed like stepping off a cliff. Daria blinked slowly. Uncertainty flickered behind her eyes, too fast for anyone else to catch. Austra’s heart clenched. Because this quiet, intimate, terrifying hope… was built on lies. Daria studied her for a long moment. And gods help her, Austra let herself want it anyway. To be chosen. To be named. To be held in daylight.
Finally Daria stood and stepped close, cupping Austra’s cheek. “You already have me,” she said softly. “That isn’t the question.”
Austra nearly broke. Because she did. And she didn’t deserve to.
Daria continued, voice low, precise. “The question is what that word means to you.”
Austra’s breath hitched. Her hands trembled at her sides like they didn’t know what to do with the sincerity. “It means…” she whispered, barely able to say it without crying, “…it means you’re mine, and I’m yours.”
Daria’s thumb brushed her cheekbone once, slow. “And,” Austra added, because she needed to make it light before it swallowed her whole, “that I’ll stop pretending I sleep in the barracks.”
Daria’s breath stuttered. Austra would replay that sound a hundred times later. Like proof. Like a vow. Daria’s gaze held hers, guarded, reluctant, beautiful. And then, quietly, as if forcing herself not to flinch from joy, Daria whispered, “Yes.”
Austra’s heart detonated. And the guilt twisted deeper, immediate and punishing, because she had no right to this kind of happiness. But she took it anyway.
She kissed Daria until her lungs burned and her mind went blissfully, dangerously quiet, until Daria’s hands slid into her hair and pulled her closer like she was anchoring herself. They spent the rest of the night in tender embraces, touches exploring each other softly, Daria moaning Austra’s name like a prayer.
Austra fell asleep smiling. And woke up glowing. The next morning she floated into the mess hall like she had swallowed the sun. Daria walked beside her, noticeably softer, noticeably hers. The squad noticed instantly. They always did.
Varn nearly spit his tea. Mika slapped Rill’s arm hard enough to bruise. Darvin smirked like he’d been born for this exact moment.
Austra slid onto the bench beside Daria and said brightly, far too loudly, “Morning! Daria and I were up late. Girlfriend things.”
Silence. Then the table detonated. Mika shrieked like he’d been stabbed. Varn swore. Rill nodded like she’d just won a wager. Darvin performed a dramatic collapse worthy of theater applause. And Austra…Austra glowed.
But beneath her joy, beneath the warmth of Daria accepting the label, beneath the sweet weight of being claimed in return, the guilt pulsed. A quiet reminder. A truth she could not outrun. You’re betraying them, it whispered. All of them. Every day. Austra forced the thought down. Smiled brighter. Pressed her knee against Daria’s under the table. And Daria, stoic, guarded, secretly radiant, let her.
When Daria muttered, like it was nothing and everything at once, “Yes. She’s my girlfriend,” and the Crosswinds lost their collective minds, Austra felt joy and agony twist together into one unbearable knot. Because this was everything she’d ever wanted. So she held Daria’s hand beneath the table. Squeezed once. Swallowed the guilt like glass. And let herself be happy. For now.
Daria- Allowed
Daria hadn’t expected anything to change. She’d said yes to the word…girlfriend…but she assumed life would go on the same. Austra would still appear at her door every night. Daria would still pretend she wasn’t waiting. The squad would still be insufferable. All of that was true. What Daria didn’t expect was herself.
The first shift happened during morning drills. “Warm-up formations!” Daria barked.
They scrambled into position. Austra jogged past her, flashing the kind of smile that melted resolve like heated obsidian. Daria tried to ignore it. She failed. Completely.
Mika elbowed Varn. Darvin wiggled his eyebrows. Rill smirked, a micro-expression so subtle Daria almost missed it. Almost. Daria nearly forgot the next command.
“Focus,” she snapped. But her pulse had already betrayed her. The squad noticed. They absolutely noticed.
Mika whispered loudly, “She yelled at you softer that time.”
Austra laughed. And Daria’s world went off-axis for a moment. Training continued anyway. Later, during paired sparring, Austra swept Mika’s legs with elegant brutality. Mika hit the ground with an offended wheeze.
“Show-off,” he groaned.
Austra winked. “My girlfriend’s watching.”
Mika shrieked. Darvin made a sound of delighted suffering. Rill looked like she was trying not to smile. Austra glowed. Daria pretended nothing inside her chest was happening. She swallowed, kept her face neutral.
“Good form,” she said flatly.
The squad gasped like she’d just uttered a marriage vow. Daria glared at all of them until they remembered fear.
The mess hall was worse than training. Austra insisted on sitting beside her. Not across. Not diagonal. Beside. Every time. Sometimes their knees touched. Sometimes their shoulders brushed. Sometimes Austra simply reached over and stole a bite of Daria’s food like it was her right. And gods help her, Daria let her. The squad nearly combusted.
One morning Mika stared openly. “You two are disgustingly cute. It’s weird. I love it.”
Darvin nodded. “Commander is less… sharp-edged lately. It’s good.”
Varn added, thoughtful, “It’s like watching a baby lava wyrm discover warmth.”
Daria growled, “What does that even mean?”
Austra kissed her cheek before taking another bite of her bread roll. The entire table exploded.
Daria covered her face with one hand. “Why did I let this happen.”
Austra leaned against her shoulder like she belonged there. “Because you like me.”
The squad oooooohed so dramatically it echoed off the cavern walls. Daria pretended she was not smiling. She failed.
They ran three missions in two weeks: sabotage runs, tunnel scouting, intercepting Zephyrian patrols before they could reach the rim. The Crosswinds moved as one, precise, practiced, deadly. And Austra moved like she had been born for this squad. Fast, silent, unpredictable. A perfect counterweight to Daria’s strategy, wildness sharpened into a weapon.
During an ambush from a stray Zephyrian unit, Austra vaulted a fallen pillar and twisted mid-air, striking down a soldier before he could blindside Varn. Daria’s blood went cold. Then hot. Later, when they regrouped, Daria muttered, “Nice save.”
Austra’s smile was all teeth and affection. “Gotta keep your squad alive.” But her eyes said the quiet part: Gotta keep you alive.
Daria pretended not to see it. Pretended her chest didn’t ache with the want to touch Austra right then, in front of all of them, in front of the whole GPR.
After missions, the squad dragged them into celebratory meals and chaotic debriefs that turned into card games and bragging. Austra sat beside Daria every time. And every time…Daria let it happen. Because it was easier now. Not hiding. Not pretending. Not denying what her body already knew. Austra’s knee against hers. Austra’s shoulder brushing hers. Austra’s laugh caught in her throat every time Daria said girlfriend like it mattered.
And yet…Even in the warmth of it, even in the strange steadiness, Daria felt something else too. Small and sharp beneath the surface. A hesitation that didn’t match Austra’s boldness. A half-beat pause before certain answers. A shadow that flickered behind her eyes when the Priestess was mentioned. Daria told herself that she was trained to hunt threats, and love had made her paranoid. And Austra had patterns Daria couldn’t quite map. Still, every night Daria chose her anyway. Because whatever Austra was holding back…she was holding Daria, too.
Austra- Fractures
Daria’s meetings with the Priestess grew harsher. Longer. Sharper around the edges, like each one carved something out of her. Daria returned from them with the air pulled tight in her lungs, shoulders braced, jaw set, eyes still burning with the echo of her mother’s demands.
Austra recognized the look instantly. It was the same expression she’d worn for years after training sessions in Zephyra, the brittle, disciplined aftermath of being shaped into something useful. The internal mantra of I must be stronger. I must be better. I must not break.
Austra stepped close, gentle, and pried Daria’s stiff hand from the strap of her armor. “You don’t have to hold yourself together with me,” she whispered.
Daria didn’t melt. Not at first. But she leaned. Just a little. Like her body remembered softness before her mind could permit it. Austra guided her to the edge of the bed. Then she knelt behind her, palms warm against Daria’s shoulders.
“Breathe,” Austra murmured, pressing slow circles into muscle that felt like stone. Daria let out a breath that sounded almost like a whimper of relief. “You’re tense,” Austra teased softly.
“You’re observant,” Daria muttered.
Austra smiled against her shoulder. “I like knowing you.”
Daria stilled. Something in her softened in a quiet, undone way she never let anyone else see. Austra rested her cheek between Daria’s shoulder blades and wrapped her arms around her waist, holding her tight, grounding her.
“You can tell me things,” she whispered. Daria didn’t answer. But she laid her hands over Austra’s. And that was enough.
Austra found herself talking more during those nights, not about her past, or at least not the real past. Never that. But about everything else. She gave Daria stories like gifts: the floating gardens she used to sneak into for naps as a child, the way wind tasted before a summer storm, the stupid competition she and her sister had over who could climb the highest tower, how much she hated structured meditation, how much she loved fruit from market stalls, her favorite color.
“Yours,” Austra said once, almost joking. Daria turned maroon and looked like she wanted to murder her for it.
Daria listened like she was memorizing every breath. Sometimes she asked questions Austra couldn’t answer honestly.
“What was your mother like?”
“Where did you learn stealth that young?”
“What made you want to join the rebellion?”
Austra always found a way to soften the edges. Curve the truth into something safe.
“She’s… complicated.”
“Old rogue tutors.”
“Anger,” she said once, carefully, “and a need for purpose.”
None were full lies. None were safe truths either. But Daria accepted them, not because she was blind, but because she wanted to trust. And gods, Austra wanted to be worthy of it. Even if she lived inside its shadow.
The Crosswinds noticed the shift as the weeks passed. Not in Austra, she’d always been bright and reckless with affection. But in Daria. Because Daria allowed it now. A touch at the wrist. A shoulder leaned into. A joke murmured during weapons cleaning. A slow, reluctant smile meant only for Austra. And Austra felt those smiles in her bones.
She found herself thinking about Daria when she shouldn’t: during patrols, during meditation, during the quiet moments when Daria wasn’t looking and Austra could not stop looking. She found herself reaching out without thinking: tucking a stray curl behind Daria’s ear, brushing dust from her collar, pressing her forehead to Daria’s in greeting. And Daria let her. Every time.
Austra kept waiting for the guilt to devour the joy. Instead, both grew. Side by side. Both sharp. Both true.
Some nights, Daria crawled into Austra’s arms first. That alone nearly broke her. Daria would lie with her head on Austra’s chest, tracing lazy circles over her ribs while Austra combed fingers through her hair.
“You’re warm,” Daria murmured one night, half-asleep.
“You’re exhausted,” Austra answered.
“Mission planning,” Daria mumbled. “Mother wants something big soon.”
Austra’s throat tightened. Dread curled deep. “What kind of big?” she asked carefully.
“Not sure yet,” Daria whispered. Then, softer, almost embarrassed by the tenderness of it, “I’ll keep you safe.”
Austra closed her eyes. Because Daria meant it. With everything she was. Even though Austra was the danger in the room. Austra kissed her forehead. “You already do.”
Daria flushed and buried her face against Austra’s chest like she could hide from her own sincerity. Austra held her tighter, trying to quiet the part of her heart screaming: I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve you. But I love you anyway.
The sending-stone grew more painful each week. Every time she held it, it felt like she was holding the opposite of what she felt for Daria. She steered every report to protect the Crosswinds, blurred details, shifted timelines, bent truth into shapes too dull to cut. She justified it the way she always did: I’m keeping them safe. I’m keeping Daria safe. But the guilt sat heavy beneath her ribs, pressing downward like a boulder she couldn’t remove.
And after nights of holding Daria, of listening to her whisper small dreams into Austra’s skin like she wasn’t afraid of wanting them anymore, the guilt grew sharper. Because Austra couldn’t imagine losing any of this. Any of them. She couldn’t imagine choosing anyone over Daria. And that alone made her a traitor.
But when Daria murmured into her throat each night, “Stay,” Austra did. Every night. Even knowing it couldn’t last. Even knowing the storm was coming. Even knowing love made everything sweeter, and far more dangerous. Austra stayed. Because she didn’t know how to leave anymore. And she didn’t want to.
Daria- Gentleness
Daria wasn’t used to being… claimed. The Priestess had never offered softness. Leadership never offered safety. Her life had been duty, precision, control. But Austra? Austra gave her gentle things. Quiet mornings. Shared jokes. Warm hands. A brush of fingers at her wrist that asked nothing and promised everything.
Once, after a long mission and the squad’s debrief in the training atrium, Austra curled up beside her on the benches and rested her head on Daria’s thigh while Daria sharpened her blade. Daria’s heart stuttered, half panic, half something dangerously close to joy. “You don’t have to do that here,” she whispered.
Austra blinked up at her. “Do what?”
“Be so…” Daria swallowed. The words felt unfamiliar. “Close. With me. In front of them.”
Austra’s expression softened into something patient and steady. “Daria. They already know. They’ve known for months.”
Daria didn’t answer. Austra sat up and cupped her jaw gently, tilting her face back like she was coaxing a skittish flame into light.
“You can be mine here, too,” Austra whispered. “Not just behind closed doors.”
Daria’s pulse twisted hard. “…I am,” she whispered back.
Austra kissed her slow and holy. The squad pretended not to notice. They absolutely noticed.
By the end of the fourth week of calling each other girlfriends, it was impossible to ignore: the Crosswinds were happier when their commander was happier.
Rill murmured once during lunch break, “You’re softer, Commander.”
Daria bristled automatically. “No, I’m not.”
Rill shrugged. “Softer doesn’t mean weaker.”
Mika added, as if delivering a sacred truth, “Love makes people stronger anyway.”
Varn threw in, deadpan, “At least until one of you dramatically sacrifices yourself. But hey. Not our problem yet.”
Daria groaned into her hands. Austra laughed every single time. And when Daria caught her laughing, head tipped back, eyes bright, joy unguarded, the warmth that bloomed in Daria’s chest was so intense she almost feared it. She was falling. Deeply. Steadily. Quietly. Terrifyingly. But with Austra’s hand brushing hers under the table, the squad smiling around them, and firelight reflecting in Austra’s eyes, for the first time in Daria’s life, falling didn’t feel like failing. It felt like landing somewhere safe.
© 2026 Jesse Annette. All rights reserved.
Forging Ash of the Beloved 
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