The flight was long and cold, the wind biting far sharper than the sea-salt warmth of the island. Even through the dragon’s sheltered grip, the high-altitude air cut with winter’s teeth. Clouds parted like thin veils around Talon’s wings, and the mainland stretched wide beneath them, pale and breathless in the dawn’s chill.
She clung with delicate grace and iron will—hood drawn, face tucked into his arm. And he, as always, was still and steady. No words of reassurance passed his lips; Theon had never been one for such things. But his body shifted just slightly to shield her better from the rushing air, one arm braced behind her, the other securely across her lower back.
The sky turned gradually pale, and far below, the frost-bitten stretch of Ro’cim began to emerge—mist clinging to the edges of fields that had already begun their winter sleep. Trees stood like spindles of shadow against pale snow. Smoke curled from chimneys. The world here was grey-blue and silent. Still.
The flight slowed.
Talon began his descent in a broad, sweeping arc, wings angling with elegant precision as he circled once over the outer edge of the village. “Ah,” came the dragon’s voice, low and rippling with wry amusement through the wind. “I suppose you’ll want to explain me to the locals, dear brother. Subtlety isn’t quite my strength.” He landed in a cleared patch not far from the edge of the trees, snow puffing up in crystalline clouds beneath his claws. The weight of him pressed briefly into the earth—and then he stilled, wings folding in as he lowered his open palm toward the frost-hardened ground.
Theon moved without hesitation, slipping to the earth with silent ease and then turning to help Araminta down, to steady her with gloved hands and a brief glance of wordless attention. His gaze lingered—not demanding, but present. Behind them, Talon leaned down, golden eyes narrowing as he regarded the structure before him.
The hut was modest. Small. Built into the earth’s shoulder like it didn’t want to be seen. The roof sloped in a way that caught snow, the stone around the base moss-worn and cracked from age. Smoke no longer rose from its chimney—but the memory of warmth lingered in the space around it, like a ghost refusing to leave.
Talon exhaled through his nostrils, a short, bemused puff of steam.
“Of course this is where you lived,” he rumbled with a grin that curled one side of his draconic mouth. “You always did have the taste of a hermit monk and the personality of wet stone. It’s like your soul made into architecture.” Still, his voice wasn’t cruel. The humor was sharp, but softened in the way only family could manage. He tilted his head back toward them, one clawed finger flexing in a casual gesture.
“Well then,” he added, “I suppose this is where I dump you. You’ve got your chilly little hole in the snow and all your bags. Unless you want a scenic flyover to the tailor’s, I’m off before someone tries to throw a pitchfork at me. Or worse—ask questions.” His massive wings shifted slightly, waiting. “So. Any final requests before I return to a place where the temperature doesn’t try to bite me in the tail?”
One could smell it in the very air, the bite of winter had come at last and while it was not quite the same as the mountain chill, it had it’s own brand of cold. Trust was a powerful thing, at least, in that she stayed wrapped up with Theon and somehow did not get teased and even play-dropped down towards the ocean waters. As soon as they were safely landed, Araminta was more than happy to put her feet back on solid ground again! Perhaps a little wobbly at first, yet as always Theon was there as a steadying figure.
Naturally the dragonborn was going to tease the very state of Theon’s tiny little hut. Finding her own gaze trailing over it with a sense of fondness and truthfully not being able to disagree with his assessment! This small quiet and humble place did in fact look like a visual representation of the man. Stripped down to nothing but the bare essentials that kept it alive and safe.
There were hints of Araminta now too, though. Dried flowers peeking behind the window glass. A wreath of lavender she’d left on the side of house that’d surely need to be replaced by now after being battered by the weather and critters while they were gone.
And just like the real Theon, she was going to be sure to help this hut was grow.
As for final requests! There was nothing of the sort, not that it stopped Araminta from reaching up her hands and wriggling fingers to get this massive dragon to bend his snoot down to her eye level. Persistent until he was close enough for her to grasp maw and give a quick beaming kiss to tip of dragony nose. Likely not a person in the world would’ve been crazy enough to do such a thing, yet there was Araminta grinning from ear to ear.
“Be well, Talon. We’ll meet again soon. Hopefully I will still have all of my arms and legs!”
Talon’s great head tilted at her insistent wriggling fingers—one golden eye narrowing in amused disbelief as if to say, really? But oh, he did lean in, lowering that massive, scale-plated snout with the pomp of a stage performer indulging a final encore. Steam coiled from his nostrils, the faint scent of heated metal and mountain stone rising in the winter air.
He gave a small, indulgent huff when she kissed the very tip of his dragon nose, an exhale that ruffled her hair and set a few stray strands fluttering.
“Careful, little princess,” he murmured, a low, velvety rumble beneath his words, “Showing affection to dragons is a dangerous habit. We’re known to get possessive.” A grin curled along his jaw—a predator’s grin, all in good fun—and then, still chuckling to himself, Talon slowly turned.
Despite his massive size, he moved with uncanny grace. Talons curled away from the soft earth where they stood, and his wings unfurled like banners to either side. But he was mindful. No gusts knocked them over. No careless tail swing shattered the woodshed. He was dramatic, yes, but not careless. “Try not to freeze to death,” he called back over one wing with a parting flick of his tail. “And keep him from brooding so hard he turns to stone.” Then—with a great stretch of wings and a leap into the sky—Talon was gone.
Theon, who had watched the entire exchange in composed silence, turned only after the wind from his brother’s departure had faded from the trees. His gaze lingered on the sky for a moment longer, unreadable. Then he looked to the small collection of bags at their feet.
“I’ll take these inside,” he said simply, already shifting to collect the heavier ones. His voice was soft—flat to an unfamiliar ear, but Araminta would know the quiet care that lived beneath it. “You should put away your newest trial piece. Keep it safe.” His eyes flicked once to hers, lingering just long enough to be meaningful.
“After that, I’ll cut wood. The fireplace needs restocking.” And indeed, winter had come. The scent of it was sharp in the air, not harsh like mountain cold, but deep and bracing. The frost was here to stay. The earth had hardened. But so had they. And so had this little hut—this place that would, for now, be home.
How lovely it was to be back home somewhere familiar again – and it truly had become home now, somewhere along the way. The birchwood forest with it’s white trunks and long branches now almost devoid of all it’s leaves was a stark difference from her mountain homeland where things stayed evergreen even in the deepest of winters. Not to say there wasn’t a beefy pine or fir here and there sporadically out amongst the deciduous varieties! Simply it was very much the different sort of muted palette to get used to.
Araminta did as suggested first and foremost, taking her things inside and immediately moving to the big cedar chest she’d been storing all of the warm blankets and her quested items tucked away in between the folds. Bog hag’s hair bound with ribbon. Harpy feathers rolled in leather. Ghost mushrooms dried in a paper sack. A foul fish in a salted box. The shriveled up acorn of a sacred tree. Now with the softly glowing hues of a lich’s phylactery.
She almost died with that one. …Then again, she almost died with most of them! Yet here was Araminta, still alive after surviving six of the trials.
With six more to go.
Though they were not likely to staying here in their humble abode longer than just the night, it still felt good to get up and make sure it was tidied and ready for the winter season. With all due expectations that they indeed would return over and over again over the next few weeks when necessary. Araminta did her part in sweeping out the cobwebs and shooing away the spiders before Theon ever had to lay eyes on them. A quick dusting didn’t take much time at all. Then she was taking out all of the dried flowers so that she could replace them with fresh early winter blooms.
It was this quest that took her outside and around the small property where at least by sight she’d been mapping out where their spring gardens would grown, but most especially to check on the spot where they’d planted one of her acorns. Hoping that in their absence nothing had decided to dig up the spot – like the ghost of a wicked chimera and her poor little pig.
What she found had her letting out a delighted trill for instead of a mound of simple packed down dirt, a circle of little purple mushrooms all in a perfect ring surrounding what was possibly the most pitifully bare, but assuredly living stick she had ever seen.
“OH! You tried so hard to sprout before the winter hit, didn’t you! I’ll have to get you some nice pine needle and mulch to keep those roots warm. I’m sure in the spring you’ll have so many pretty leaves.”
Theon’s footsteps were near soundless across the frosted ground, his presence more felt than heard as he returned to the hut with a final armful of firewood. The fire inside had taken well, casting a slow, steady warmth through the walls and onto the packed dirt floor. Smoke curled lazily from the chimney, disappearing into the pale sky where winter’s breath hung still and low.
He had just stepped past the threshold when Araminta’s voice rang out—bright, delighted, unmistakably pleased.
Set the firewood down just inside the door in a neat pile, dusting off his gloves before stepping back outside. There was no urgency to his pace, but something about the note in her voice tugged at his attention more firmly than usual. When he came around the side of the small, weather-beaten hut, he found her crouched near a patch of earth she’d previously fussed over. The garden-to-be, if her hopeful mutterings and the collection of acorns, pinecones, and leafy diagrams were anything to go by.
She was kneeling over it now with the same reverence one might show an altar. Prompting his gaze dropped to the little ring of mushrooms growing in a perfect circle around the barest hint of a sapling sprout—a single twig with a stubborn tilt, fragile, but alive.
Theon’s brows knit ever so slightly.
There was something strange here. It wasn’t threatening or wrong it but it was pulsing. Low, muted, almost as if it were attempting to wake from a slumber so thick one couldn’t rub the sand from its eyes. A shimmer that barely brushed the edge of his senses, like catching the glint of a blade’s edge in dappled shadow. He took a step closer, the cold seeping through the knees of his trousers as he knelt beside her. His fingers hovered near one of the purple mushrooms, but didn’t touch.
It was magic. Faint, old, quiet.
But it didn’t feel like the Queen’s magic. Nor the seething demonic spells they’d encountered. Rather it felt so… distant. It brushed against something slumbering deep in his blood—a buried chord that thrummed once, then stilled again. “I think it will be fine come spring.” Theon softly stated, “There’s already an ebb of magic.”
Araminta was not sure why he had this ever so slightly peculiar expression across those stoic features when he knelt down to hover his hand near those beautiful amethyst colored mushrooms. At least not until he gave the soft declaration that there was an ebb of magic.
Oh. Oh! It was in fact a very special sort of tree, wasn’t it. Old and revered by ancient elves and the very fae themselves. A lost part of Theon.
And now the tiny sapling was working it’s hardest to sprout up right in his backyard. Planted by his own healing magic to coax it to life.
To say she blossomed into a smile was an understatement. The beam was nothing but warm pride, unspoken I told you sos, ones that remained spoken too, for she merely gave a satisfied hum. Reaching out a hand to softly graze thumb against his cheek before she scooted herself back to a rightful stand. Dusting off her hands from leaning there in the dirt to inspect her very first of what Araminta hoped would be many beautiful things in her garden.
“Since there are so many chores to do, I might walk myself down to the village to see if any of my parcels are ready to bring home. Then we can have a nice cozy evening of just the two of us. It’s been quite a while since it’s only been the two of us.”
Truly he had begun to recognize the different twists to her lips. In this case it was abundantly clear how proud she was of what had been said before. Wearing it brightly and loudly that even as he might have felt a suggestion of will to say otherwise, there was only the gentlest leans into the grazing touch. Till it was retrieved and he looked up at her standing once more.
Maybe a bit grateful she wasn’t outwardly commenting on her triumphant success of being right.
At her suggestion of their being a few chores yet to accomplish –his attention tilting in such a way that was already moving to categorize the means of such things- he gave her a bit of a wondering eye at the means of collecting the parcels.
There was a deeper soundless pause to the means but went unspoken. Merely picking himself up from the kneeling effort of where they had been with a agreeing nod. “I will prepare the hut then and begin the means of meal work.”
Before Araminta left him there at their humble hut of a home, she’d cleared out her messenger bag to take with her down to the small village. Knowing full well if any of her requests were ready she was going to need the ease of carrying it all back. A small hesitation filled her steps when she stepped away and into the trees, looking back over her shoulder with a frown at a rising memory. The last time Theon had been alone there, a wicked woman had trapped and stolen him. Obviously such a thing wasn’t likely to happen again, yet Araminta couldn’t help the worry. He gave so much of himself to protect her, but who protected Theon?
Araminta would simply have to do what she did best. They had a night for themselves without the weight of the trials on her shoulders, without the fear of her health on Theon’s. Now that he no longer fought getting into bed, it could be a the most restful of evenings!
The walk off to the nearby village never took long at all, especially when she was healthy and in good spirits. With the crisp of early winter fresh in the air, she entered back into a familiar world of a village at work. Theon had said it never snowed here in these lands, at least not beyond a faint drift of flurries. But that didn’t mean it couldn’t be icy cold and need proper preparations for the locals. Araminta waved to a man high up on a roof working on insulated thatching that’d keep the building warmer during the frosty months. Along the street there were extra vendors for necessities like chopped wood and tanned furs. All that could be processed after the fall harvests were now being sold as jarred preserves or sacks of grain. Children ran through the streets giggling and playing.
This was home now and Araminta was so glad to be back, even just for a day.
“By the gods! We thought you were gone for good this time!” chirped Ester’s stunned exclamation when Araminta entered the tailor’s shop. The middle-aged woman dropping her needlepoint work to come squeeze her in a tight hug before holding the mountain princess by the shoulders to give her an up and down. “Found another tailor too, did you? This is a fine bit of stitching,” she teased with a bright, relieved smile.
Araminta laughed and nodded. “We had a long delay in a town quite a bit larger than this one, troublesome and a blessing all in one. With all that Theon and I get into we might need a tailor in every town.”
“By all the whispering and gossip that comes through here, the entire land already thinks you do!” alluded Ester, raising her voice as she stepped into the back to seek out the wrapped parcels she’d been saving for her return. “Nobles across many kingdoms have claimed that they are to host the Imperial Prince. Sightings of a princess riding a dappled grey stallion, while others suggest you’ve made a deal with a horned demon to help you complete the trials. Now there’s chatter of dragons having returned to the continent, when no one has seen a scale or tail since Imperial Prince Talongrath was still alive.”
Good, Araminta thought. Those letters she had sent out from Essurn were doing exactly what she’d hoped. Creating confusion about where she and Theon were meant to be, so that even if someone were to study the trials and all of their locations, they could never be sure where the next stop would be located. Curious that they likened Theon to a demon now, yet it was not so strange knowing the sorts of companions Queen Heirra kept. How her Mercenary himself surely had to be demonic if only in part.
She refused to think about Gusteau and let even a sliver of those memories sneak their way out.
“How have things faired here? Is everyone well supported for the winter?” she asked to turn away from such subjects.
Ester brought out a good armful of parcels, more than what was going to fit in Araminta’s bag, giving the girl a moment to tilt her head and ponder how she was to run the rest of her errands. The elder woman paused herself running over the past few weeks worth of gossip, giving Araminta another examination. A faint hint of concern there in her features before landing on subjects worth sharing.
“Bruno Junior dug up the courage to propose to Leila and they’ll be having a wedding come spring, so we’re all a twitter about it! There’s been more and more sightings of fae coming close to the village and no one can seem to agree on whether or not it’s a good thing or a bad thing, considering recent events. No one has come back turned into rabbits or with barkpox, and between you and me, I’d take a little mischievous faerie stealing pies and tripping folks compared to dragons burning down whole villages.”
As she spoke she helped tuck as many things as she could into Araminta’s pack, taking what wouldn’t fit to bind with a long strange of twine to make for easier carrying. She paused again long enough to give the princess another look and a soft sigh.
“You look better than the last time you returned… but are you doing alright? Truthfully? Has He- …is he- …how are you both doing.”
Araminta hadn’t expected such a question and something in those words held a meaning so much deeper than just whether or not Araminta was feeling well. Returning Ester’s gaze with a soft smile and a gentle shrug of her shoulders.
“It’s not been an easy journey. Sometimes I wonder if the cost is too much. …then all it takes is a moment with Theon and then I remember it’s worth every effort. Things are not always alright, but we are living and growing and always thinking about the future. He’s going to dig me a pond when we have the time!”
Such a statement had Ester laughing, as who could imagine an Imperial Prince secretly hiding away in a small village and digging a pond out in the woods. With coin exchanging hands and a brief conversation of what sort of flowers grew best around small ponds, Araminta excused herself off for the rest of her errands.
With her bag and her arms full she decided it was high time she got herself a small wagon to help her on these escapades of village shopping. A quietly thrilled feeling of pleasure to know that her small home with Theon was indeed becoming a real home, in need of the things that helped make a space actually habitable for two people. Of course he always said he didn’t need things – and things themselves were not important – only Araminta knew a home needed both comforts and beautiful reminders to help the mind be at ease. Theon deserved more than blank walls of wood and floors of dirt and stone.
In her new wagon the princess acquired an array of stuff he’d surely call pure nonsense. Handcrafted pottery vases that’d been painted with beautiful flowers and birds that she’d be able to put flowers in. A couple of simple shelves to mount up on future walls. A few preserves jars for sweet spreads on breakfast. A big fluffy quilt that could keep them warm or help cover walls for insulation. She purchased Theon a new pouch for his belt, as he’d appreciate something with function most of all. And some gardening tools for herself to use in the spring on those days they could rest at home safe and sound.
Araminta might’ve over done it just a little, having to indeed struggle on the way back tugging along this filled wagon through the motely trail of softly worn dirt hidden rocks and creeping routes. Still when the hut was once again in her line of sights, she couldn’t help the joy that bloomed in her chest to see it and that giddy feeling of knowing someone was there waiting for her.
By the time she returned, Theon had managed to keep himself more than occupied. A neat, waist-high stack of firewood now sat by the front of the little shack, cut to size and arranged so it could be reached without wandering into the treeline again. The yard bore a tidier look too, the ground swept of pine needles and the corners of the shack freed from the cling of dust and dirt that had been gathering for who knew how long. The place had never been a true mess, but he’d given it the kind of attention that left the air cleaner, fresher, as though it had remembered what it was like to be lived in. Although that was a loose term since he had never really lived in it, in the first place!
Whenever the princess was ready to push open the door, she’d find him well into the middle of another project—something far more comforting. Outside, the fire had been stoked high, the clay oven already glowing with heat, its faint cracks breathing smoke like an old, faithful beast. On a small worktable beside it, Theon had set out a few humble ingredients from their limited stores. He’d been slicing root vegetables thin, layering them with herbs into a battered iron pan, the sort of meal that promised warmth more than extravagance. Beside it, a pot simmered with a broth coaxed from dried mushrooms and wild onions, enriched with the last of a salted ham bone he’d been saving for such a moment.
Inside, on the counter, cuts of venison—dressed clean and rubbed with coarse salt and rosemary—waited their turn for the oven’s embrace. Having skewered a few smaller pieces onto spits to roast quickly over the open flame, something Araminta could eat the moment she shrugged off her cloak. For himself, he’d carved a heel of bread, tough but still good, and was working it into a makeshift trencher for the stew. The aroma already curled through the shack, savory and smoky, wrapping the space with the kind of warmth that made the walls feel closer, safer.
It wasn’t grand fare by any stretch. Their supplies were too thin for that. But he had put genuine care into every step—the sharpness of his cuts, the patient stirring of the pot, the way he’d set aside the choicest portion of venison for her plate without even thinking about it. By the time she returned, she wouldn’t see just food waiting, but a quiet welcome home, stitched together in the little ways he knew how.
Araminta could remember when this place was nothing more than a creaky, drafty shack with nothing more than a table and two chairs. An old apothecary shelf and the iron stove. He needed no storage, for he had no things. No bed as he never dared to sleep. When she drew her wagon past the fire outside and breathed in deep the savory scent of whatever simmered away in the clay contraption, she couldn’t help but smile wide. He didn’t cook back then like he did now, either. Did he notice the difference? Oh, he’d known how for certain, yet she’d come into his life at a time where he wasn’t even feeding himself beyond the barest necessity of heating something up.
There life was not perfect and there was still strife ahead. Tonight, though? Araminta was content in their sweet and cozy little home.
“Dinner smells so good already,” she announced her presence with the simple compliment as she swung open the door. No fan-faire no big deal made about it, simply the appreciation voiced as she paused her wagon outside the door frame to start gathering up the first of her claimed goodies.
“Ester had everything ready I asked for and perhaps a little more and she did such a brilliant job with all the embroidery that I’m going to feel so bad rolling around in the dirt with it!” Those parcels of clothing were the first of things she brought inside, for they were the easiest for her to store away in the big trunk in the corner. …mostly! By the time she got to the quilt, it required pulling out the bedroll and other plush things she’d acquired in past days. It seemed now the truck could only be filled with the clothing for her and Theon, along with the quest items she always kept hidden wrapped between them.
Oh well, a pile of blankets and pillows wasn’t a problem tonight! They’d be using them. It just meant the next time they returned, Araminta would have to shake all the spiders out of them and hang them out to air. Having a wardrobe brought out here would be next on her list.
“Everyone in town seems to be doing well, Brunie and Leila are getting married now – as I knew they would, they were so adeptly sweet about each other. When we’re off traveling I might keep my eye out for an extra special wedding gift to bring back.” She bustled around their small home without an ounce of hesitation. Taking out the jars of preserves to put away where they made the most sense. Setting up her pretty vases on the window sill as well as the table, tucking in some of the early winter blossoms she managed to find on her walk back. Resting her hands on her hips a moment simply to admire her handywork.
…and Theon’s! Not a single spider web or speck of dust to be seen! The place was warm, scented of cooking meat and fresh herbs. A place people actually lived in, and not just a roof to hide under.
Finally she gathered up the little belt pouch she’d acquired – nothing fancy or showy. Simple well crafted leather and a sturdy piece, that she placed into his hand before wriggling her finger for him to bend down low enough that she might rise on her toes and kiss his cheek.
Quietly was the hum of both appreciation and understanding that she expressed the meal was smelling good already. Valuing the means that she acknowledged the effort and doubly knew that his selection choice had been on point. To ensure that she had something warm to eat rather than working off rations that were probably on the dying side of their life than not.
Momentarily following her with his gaze before seeing her starting to attempt to make room for the variety of items she had gotten at all. Of course warranting a longer stare because he couldn’t even fathom the reasoning for such excessive items in the first place. Telling well enough that from the name of Ester, that they were the tailored items that Araminta had purchased so long ago. Things that he didn’t think heavily about then and didn’t now. Simply observing this game of arrangement that had her pulling other items out and replacing new items into the trunk at all.
Offering a momentarily consideration of the petite place to understand that it really was going to need a extension come spring to ensure the space that Araminta wished to decorate was given the room to do so.
Returning to the means of finalizing the bits of the meal so it would be ready for consumption, there was well timed and considering nods to his head as she explained the sort of interactions and news that came from the tiny village nearby. Although personally, he wasn’t sure the relevance of any of it but it seemed to bemuse Araminta. Especially the suggestion that she would keep an eye out for a wedding gift for that of Brunie and Leila.
Something about that made him pause. Replaying the information in his mind and trying to make sense to how quickly things had progressed. About to even ask something about that but as he turned and found her coming up to him to place a crafted leather belt pouch, he was rendered hushed once more. Turning it over in hand curiously as the wiggling of finger easily had him replying to the motion. She’d done it enough times that it would have been impossible now to register what she wanted.
The fleeting press of lips and the silent awe at the second gift. Stunned about it, tilting curious attention at her with a soundless why?
Not that he didn’t appreciate it—quite the opposite. Any stray wonder at what possessed her to consider him in such a way was quickly burned away, replaced with a heat that demanded more than a fleeting acknowledgment. Before she could slip back into the safety of distance, Theon caught her, drawing her close with a steadiness that left little room for escape. What might have been a passing peck became something far more—his lips finding hers with a deliberate hunger, a proper claiming kiss that spoke of both thanks and need.
There was fire in it, but not reckless flame. It smoldered slow and deep, carrying the weight of passion threaded through appreciation. His mouth lingered against hers, savoring, as though reluctant to let her go and unwilling to let the moment pass unmarked. Every breath between them thickened with unspoken meaning—the warmth of gratitude twisted with desire, the gratitude itself transformed into something physical, undeniable. When he drew back, it was only just, lips barely parting from hers, his gaze still close enough to catch the shine in her eyes, as if daring her to doubt how wholly she had been felt in that kiss.
Would there ever be a day he wasn’t so bewildered by a simple gift? Araminta remained unsure if she wish it to be so, for it brought her so much joy to watch the subtle way his features would shift into curious surprise. How he always accepted it with a quiet grace. Maybe one day he’d finally realize he was deserving of such things and the surprise would become a different sort of expression she could cherish and be delighted to see.
While she didn’t expect a reward in return for a small gift, she’d gladly giggled soft when he stopped her and pulled her close. Already tilting her head to accept his new style of a quiet thank you, only to find herself the one stunned into surprise! No gentle nor brief press of silent appreciation, there was a weight to it, a spoken feeling without using words at all in the way only Theon could do.
A soft sound slipped from her when she met his mettle with zero hesitation, happy to return everything he could possibly give her until he pulled away – if that hair’s breadth of distance could even be considered pulling back. His eyes clear like beautiful, glittering silver stars and there was never a moment before that he’d looked more sweetly handsome than right there. Where his every thought and feeling laid bare for her to see.
What a miraculous thing, as it might’ve been the first time ever a chattering minx like Araminta had been rendered completely speechless!
Funny how a little change of thought and practice into doing so was enough to make him want and act upon actions. In particular, the telling boldness of being deeply affection even for no real reason. And appreciating it silently that there was no awkward staring accompanied with it. Simply a temporary silence that had her looking up at him till he was emboldened to steal close once more –with more control- and release.
Not without a light squeeze of hand of course, “You may eat when you are ready to, love.” Theon motioned to the arrangement. “Thank you for the pouch. It will be very useful in our next travels.”
One day she’d not have that flutter of butterflies every time he said the word love, or when he gave her those soft looks, or when his voice was quiet and full of depth just for her. Someday far far in the future, that sure wasn’t right then, where she’d finally broken free of her twitterpated awe to smile brilliantly and find her words again. Giving her own brushing squeeze to his arm when she shifted over to the small table to help place the settings for their meal. Sliding into her chair with that blood born royal grace, never once having been lost along the way of her trials.
“I thought it would be! I even found us a small wagon, it’ll be good for getting supplies down at the village or when we are working here to make our home a little bigger. I’ll be able to drag along all sorts of things.” she chattered, leaning to take in a deep smell of the meal and giving that satisfied, appreciative sound with the aroma of herbs, well roasted forest vegetables and cuts of venison. If she’d known he’d given her the best pieces she might have fussed that he was the one that needed it most, when he had to do all of the physical work of caring for them.
As she ate she told him about every bit of news and gossip she’d picked up from the village – explaining it easily that one should know how their neighbors are doing. Araminta mused over how they’d design their garden, invigorated now that the special tree did in fact seem to be trying it’s best to sprout, so it needed to be surrounded by flowers and greenery for every season with a charming set of chairs beneath it where they could enjoy the warmer months. She talked about maybe getting a violin because a full sized harp would be too big to fit anywhere, and apologized about getting ahead of herself and that, really, they should focus first on things they needed, like a wardrobe to put their clothes in.
Not once did she bring up the trials or her worries about them, because that was tomorrow’s problem and tonight was just for the two of them.
Araminta chattered her way through dinner and even lingered through it longer than necessary, in her small subtle way making sure Theon himself was at ease and able to take bite at his own leisure without her commentary or watching him like a hawk. When she was satisfied, she’d taken up the chore of cleaning up the dishes – not about to let him to do that too after he’d cleaned up the hut itself and made them a meal! Sending him instead to set them up a nice spot by the fire outside so they could watch the sky shift from soft blues, to deep oranges, to it’s sea of stars.
Once she was done cleaning up, she’d changed out of her clothing into the warm winter nightgown she’d commissioned from Ester. Unlike the one from Essurn, that was a thin light blue silk made to keep one cool, this one had a heavier burgundy cotton with long sleeves and even longer skirt that almost dragged to the ground. It clung to her small frame in all the right places without be restrictive and had a neckline wide enough to leave most of her shoulders bare.
The part that had her grinning, however, and lifting up an arm when she joined him to proudly show off, was the delicate embroidery work on the edges of the sleeve. Green leafy ivy, brown autumn leaves, and cute little grey foxes chasing each other around the circle.
“Isn’t it lovely? Next winter I think I will get you a robe just like it so you won’t have to be chilly in the mornings making breakfast.”
He knew that she said the chill didn’t affect her as heavily as most did, but even as she had switched to something that was not entirely intended for outdoor use, he was considering the length and style of it in totality. Watching as she lifted her arm up to show him the detailed embroidery that was very much akin to Araminta’s personality. Granted, he suspected she would be the one chasing the grey foxes rather than each other.
“I don’t need a robe or much else than what has already been provided.” Theon offered in reply considering her well enough. He knew that she was just trying to ensure things were cozy but at this point, he was pretty overly spoiled! Not even sure what to do with a fourth of the things she had gotten outside of the basics.
Granted, it seemed he had really found a new stride, “I think just staying in bed would be sufficient enough if there was a need to be warm.”
There it was, in that quick of her eyebrows and the widening of her smile. The unspoken I told you bed was nice that she didn’t say out loud, yet was completely unable to hide her delight that he now enjoyed those moments of warmth and quiet instead of fearing them. For a moment it was simply her standing there grasping his hands with intent to pull him towards the fire before she shifted into this dawning, wide eyed realization. Holding a finger for him to wait a moment as she skittered into the house.
Araminta fetched her lyre and returned in a heartbeat, grabbing his hand again to pull him along to the outside fire. Picking her favorite spot for them to take roost on the soft ground, with the smoothed laid out log behind them as a bracing for their backs.
Or in this case for Theon to lean, while she took up residence in the crook of his arm. Shifting to rest her knees over his legs and her feet tucked under her skirt until she was comfortable enough to pluck at the strings for a light bit of music to make their evening that much nicer. It may very well have been the most gently orchestrated seduction in the world, had Araminta been the sort to think that way. Instead, it was a need she had to give him the best of soft memories. The trial with the lich had near taken out the both of them – luck had been in on their side in the form of Talongrath, else the pair of them might not have survived at all.
So tonight, it was a taste of softness. An example of the life they were going to have after the trials, when they could just be as they were. To talk about everything and nothing, to end their evenings with good food and beautiful music and the company of each other. As plucked the strings of her lyre with practiced ease, every single one of those thoughts and feelings went into the soothing song. A promise of countless tomorrows to someone so beloved.
“If you see a falling star, you ought to make a wish,” she suggested, giving him a nudge with her shoulder. Never missing a pluck of strings. “Months ago you said there was nothing you wanted or wished for, have things not changed just a little now?”
In a manner of orchestrated control and ease, she had disappeared briefly so she might bring that of lyre outside. Making sure to arrange themselves suitably comfortably. Looking entirely domesticated that for one or two moments, one could easily forget that come the morrow they’d be on the path once more. For a new trial that would rival the last and only barely signal the urgency of the ones that were waiting!
Perhaps it was all the more reason why to revel in the mood as it was. Where she situated herself to be so close without perfectly straddled upon him. Plucking chords that he still couldn’t remember than names of while the heat of a flame worked to ensure the cool of the wintery descent wasn’t leaving frost bites in reply.
Curiously looking at the arrangement of the birch forest that around them that had taken to proper hibernation; it was the nudge at his shoulder that had hands flexing over that of posed thighs. Attention veering to consider her and the suggestion of a falling star.
Idly tracing the words through mind because he’d not heard such a phrase before. Or if he had, he wasn’t recalling it. For it felt juvenile and it likely had some association with youth that had been missed in his case. Save that Araminta was adding on a wonderment to whether or not his thoughts had changed in the past few months. From when she asked if he wished for anything then, to now.
“Much has changed.” He admitted and gave a telling squeeze to imply she was the catalyst to all of that. Letting that brew for a moment while the gray rings tilted to look at the house itself. As if he were deeply thinking and truly he was. “A nice green house.” Theon expressed then, “To grow items in the winter as well. With a herb garden especially.”
“Our sunroom has become a greenhouse,” she remarked with the faintest of giggles. Plucking a few strings that put into the mind of rain on window pane glass. “And a good potbelly stove for the kitchen, then. And a stone hearth fireplace for the cauldron pot. We’ll need a good too cellar of course. A couple goats.”
Naturally animals were going to come into the picture. Now adding goats to her thoughts of chickens, ducks, and cerulean snails. Which meant a house for the chickens and a shed for the goats.
“We’ll have a trellis of wisteria vines to shield us from the summer sun for afternoon meals. In our den I’ll put a big plush sofa stuffed with goose feathers, plucked right off the meanest rudest geese so I won’t feel a wit of regret about it.” Clearly her vendetta against geese was never to be forgotten either!
After a moment of playing her song, she set the lyre aside in favor of snaking her arms around his waist and hugging him tight. Tilting her head back with a cascade of ebony curls and grinning her toothy grin.
“It’ll take us years to build. We’ll do a little at every time we come home to it. When we’re out getting into all manner of trouble, I’ll always be thinking about being here with you growing our home. If things get difficult, I want you to remember tonight and our dreams for this place.”
Was it surprising to him that he had answered her to a potential want and it promptly grew to include everything and anything that she wanted to add into it? Really… no. It hadn’t. Honestly, he was more or less just making a mental list of the mass arrangement of things that Araminta wanted to have to make the space suitably hers.
And it showed how much she wanted the hut to be made into something large and grand. Likely far more fitting to declare it a farm estate rather than a simple hut that he would have simply added a bedroom too with a green house at this point.
What she expressed for wanting, it would take a lot of tradesman particularly fitted to each requirement. And it would take time to build to fit exactly what she was listing. Carpenters. Blacksmiths. Masons and more. Paired with a lot of dutiful learning because if there were animals present, then they would have to be tended too. Learning how to manage for their best success. It sounded busy and plenty of things he was going to have to educate himself about to ensure its functionality!
Of course she was snaking in close after a moment and suggesting he best use this moment as a memory for the future. “It seems I will be thinking about many things in how to construct this all for you. Which will take time. Perhaps a good side project seeing as you still had Caeldalmor to think of after the trails success.”
He might have been taking these moments of daydreaming as a to-do list needing near immediate planning. Something she might have been exasperated about any other time, just that now it had become one of those small quirks Araminta did love about him. His foresight, his thoughtful, aways needing to be in motion doing something constructive.
Daydreams and wishes were meant to be grand, they didn’t have to be achievable any time soon. Simply a thing to hold close to the heart about possibilities in the future.
The mention of Caeldalmor, however, brought a bit of reality back to Araminta’s present. A bittersweet reminder that she could dream all she wished about their future home, there were also responsibilities that called for her. Guilt found it’s way into those cracks, condemning how easy it had been for her to move forward. To stop thinking every day about the family she’d lost, the people who were gone and likely still suffering up there in the mountains.
There were people suffering here too, though. And it was beginning to look as if it all stemmed from the same evil source.
“I suppose that is true,” she did finally murmur after a long silence, settling to rest her head on his shoulder and wrap her arms around herself. “Years, and years, and years then. As I wish to have you with me every where I go, even back to Caeldalmor. I don’t mind if it takes our whole life as long as we are together.”
He’d have to be pretty blind not to bare witness to the way she went from exuberant excitement to nearly crestfallen in a manner of seconds. Something he said had spun the wheels in her head and honestly, it seemed vital to query about.
“It may take a long time but it will be worth it, will it not? Even if it may not be the place you and I cannot come back to every night for some time.” Theon adjusted so he could decorate her brow with a chaste press. “It would be important to bring balance back to your homeland as well. Not simply just the Imperial lands. As I suspect when that is rectified, many of the nations that were absorbed by the Imperial Queen, may wish to be returned. Making it quite a busy time and if Talon succeeds in his endeavour as king, it will still need someone with an head for diplomacy and a airs to wrestle with a hotblooded half dragon.”
“Oh, there is no doubt in my mind that it’s worth it,” she replied with a softening of smile and a tilt of her head to scan his face. Perhaps she had said one too many years and made it seemed she was upset about the pacing of it all. She reached to gently graze her knuckles against auburn bearded cheek as if she could sooth any worries with that alone.
“I will be glad to do such work, in helping to heal the imperial lands and rebuilding my own kingdom. Rewarding and fulfilling, truly something I’ll enjoy spending a lifetime to do.” There we no lies there… this was a calling Araminta never knew she would have, not once dreamed about or considered for herself. It felt right. A way to bring a new kind of harmony in the world.
Araminta did not want to tell him her deeper thoughts… she was meant to be sunshine and rainbows, hope shining and filled with endless fortitude! He’d come so far and she wanted to wrap him up in warmth so he’d never know fear and pain again.
That was no truthful, though, and Theon was no fool. If she tried to pretend, he would surely misunderstand the reasons for her unease.
“The trials are only going to grow harder,” she murmured softly, not wanting to ruin what she’d constructed as their perfect evening of forgetting it all, but here it was. “We almost died this time and I fear what will come next… But I can’t think about how afraid I am to lose you, or I won’t be able to move forward at all. I want to daydream about our future house, and nights like this where we are curled up by a fire and not worried about a thing at all. I want you to have this now, so that when we’re in the thick of something terrible you remember we have this and we’ll be okay. Does that make sense? …it seems so sad to say it out loud.”
It was likely going to take him that same lifetime to understand and even marginally accept the means of rebuilding that of the imperial lands, since he had no desire or connection to do so. But he would aid her in the task because it was something that he knew she would do well at. With her ability to charm and warm practically anyone to her side –even the most hateful seemed to eventually bend to her will if Talon was anything to go by- but he also could tell that there was something niggling inside her as well.
The enthusiastic means of her designing a future in deep detail only to fall practically sober by a few breaths, was enough to foretell something about it all had pressed a sharp point to figurative chest.
Leaning quietly into the grazing pass till she decided that what was pressing needed to be spoken, he wasn’t really shocked by it. Listening as she expressed that the trails had successfully left her uneasy and now she had to force herself not to think about the dangerous what ifs otherwise face the fact she may not continue.
Although he would hold no qualms if she did so, he wouldn’t press it either.
Her uncertainty and want to hold onto the smaller memories as rays of little hope, he could hardly find a reason to shame the desire. Rather, Theon appreciated her efforts to do so. Adjusting so arms could sort themselves around that of herself. To tighten protectively, “Yes. It does make sense. Though I am not nearly as worried as I originally was about these trials.” Of course he was still concerned, he wasn’t stupid. “It seems while they are growing in difficulty, they often have better rewards in their unknown wings as well. Such as finding Talongrath. Those boons are worth the added effort and make times such as these, sweeter. Yes?”
“You’re not?” she asked of his apparent easing of worry with a small measure of surprise, perhaps revealing in the moment it was something she’d not realized she needed so deeply to hear. Attentively listening as he explained his reasons, growing a warm smile when they were as simple and pragmatic as Theon always was.
They’d found Talongrath. That had been an example of hope for Theon, it truly was turning the page into a new chapter with these trials.
“Yes,” she agreed, easing into his arms as those worries of hers were soothed at least a fraction in the wake of his renewed hope. “We’ve done some extraordinary things so far, haven’t we. Because I met you.”
Luck had saved Araminta in her first trial, but every moment after that it had been Theon. From being clawed to death by harpies, or being trapped in the fae wood. Not being eaten by slimes or a fishman, nor devoured by a giant spider. Protected from cultists, demons, and a lich. Everything Araminta had managed to accomplish could be directly attributed to Theon being there every step of the way.
Araminta moved to slid her arms up around his neck, pressing lingering kiss to his cheek with a soft sigh of breath.
“You are a gift,” came the vehemently uttered words, filled with every bit of awe and love she had for the man. It may have seemed that she wanted to say more, yet Araminta could not find the words that aptly captured just how special he was. To her and for the world. When words failed her the best she could do was lean in for a kiss – delicate at first, in how one would kiss something precious and fragile. Only it never remained so chaste, as when it came to Theon a simple kiss was never enough anymore. Leaving her to squeezing her arms tight as if she were afraid if she didn’t he’d somehow disappear, to deepen that kiss with a passionate need to give promises that words couldn’t convey.
Her awe was met with a firm shake of his head. He wasn’t worried to the same degree as he had been. Oh that wasn’t to say he was foolish and disregarded the useful emotion at all, but he had bared witness to the cleverness and tactical mind that she possessed when the situation was demanding of it. And when one sat back and considered that each trial had brought an additional shard of something useful, it was hard to suggest that the actions were incorrect.
Just equally, they were going to get harder. Which meant they had to be smarter.
It would take some skill certainly but he had faith in it. Offering his insight that hummed softly when Araminta eased into him and was offering something rather lush in the idea that things had only been pivotal due to his appearance. In some ways, he would agree. Others, absolutely not.
It was the movement of her twirling so she could arrange herself to be near face to face, that he gave her probably one of those looks that absolutely didn’t agree and found her statement so ridiculous. Needing no words for it because he was apparently good at offering said adjustments of stares to accent his very thoughts. That was shortly dismantled because well, how could he keep holding onto such a presence when she was taking a gentle press into something a little deeper.
Sinking fingers into cloth no sooner and meeting those unspoken promises with accepting mettle. At least till one required their lungs to fill and he was retracting somewhat. “I… I thought this evening was to be restful, not inviting new actions to take potential lead throughout the night.”
Araminta could not help the quiet laugh that escaped. Having a guess that a few long hours from their morning bedding wasn’t enough time in Theon’s mind to assure himself that she was not harmed. Despite the fact her muscles had long since stopped feeing so stiff and sore, and surely those marks on her neck left by his own mouth had started their fade as well by now?
“I thought such actions were plenty restful,” she mused aloud, bunting her forehead against his before giving a gentle nuzzle to his cheek with her nose. “Though, if you are imagining us spending the entire night on those endeavors then I can see how they might instead be blissfully exhausting.”
Her fingers found their way to stroking through dark red strands of his hair with an affectionate pet, drawing her thumb over his cheek while she glanced over his quiet features. There was a comfort in her with Theon that always remained, fearless about most anything. Though a hint of shyness still shined through, a hesitation to apply flirtatious wiles when she wasn’t that sort of charismatic woman. Chewing into her bottom lip with the indecision until truth found it’s way to he surface.
Araminta didn’t need to be anything. She did not need to try. They did not need to rush. All that was necessary was for her to give him the freedom to decide what he wished to do.
The princess brightened into a smile then, leaning in to give one more lasting kiss. Bracing her palms against his cheeks before she straightened up, with that look of one about to hand out tasks.
“Regardless we should get into bed. You put out the fire and I shall go make our nest of blankets. If you wish to spend all night with my hands on you, then I will be happy to oblige. Or we can simply sleep and that will be nice too.”
“I don’t think you realize that with the change of relationship and the ease of comfort you’ve given me, I am and can be very easily interested in the entire night being used on such endeavours. Especially when there is plenty within me that is stirred and curious to see what sort of calamity of volumes could be arise from either or.” He considered her carefully while aptly knowing that his blunt sort of commentary might have been potentially a dire consequence of being comfortable with her. Allowing him to express new thoughts and interests while she may not realize she was simply stirring the pot of said curiosity.
Even if she could be both mindful and vexing in the ways that stirred him into burning wonder, even after a chaste lasting kiss and he considered the various hands out of ideas that were offered.
Contemplating harder than necessary as well with the telling motivation that the means of flame and other warmth was hardly enough to bring back the more timid behaviours of his past. The ones he was actively stopping himself from falling victim to once more, because she was expressively saying things that left no room for doubt.
“Then I suppose tomorrow will be very tiresome,” Silver flickered under the glow of firelight and telling that apparently out of the options offered, the first was better than the latter.
Well! There was a statement that left Araminta’s cheeks burning! Theon always had been direct with his words, and it surely started off harmless enough, before it cascaded quickly into this said calamity of volumes, leaving no room for mistakes on just what he meant by the phrase! Sending her into a spiral of trying to imagine just what they might get up to for inciting such things, which surely wasn’t helping that warmth in her face.
Compelling was his next statement, having her trapped between this place of not knowing how to behave – nervous silly giggling would’ve been mortifying! – and this heady desire to crawl herself on his lap and kiss him until those storm grey eyes of his were smoldering. Before, there’d been a quiet natural progression of heating things between them. But this! This was an active choice, a new kind of being nervous and excited all at once.
“Good that you made such a filling dinner. It seems we will need the stamina?” That came out far more breathless than she intended, no at all aided by the way her heart skipped a beat. With an adjustment of her hands to brace on his shoulders she made rise to her feet. Seemingly to be reluctant to remove her hands from him at all with the way they lingered and touched even when she straightened to step away.
“It’ll only take a moment to make our bed,” she threw over her shoulder as she walked away, casting a flicker of a look along with it.
She had left him with the task of putting out the flame. Something that was rather easy to do when one had the element typically in his control. And there was a enticing purpose not to linger to long. Or even at all! With a flicking consideration of the burning pit, it was rendered in a moment to silence. Guttered with a twist of hand that snuffled the flame till it was completely gone. Leaving on the heat in his chest and a purposeful intention to stand and take steps after her.
His hand found the doorframe as he entered, fingers curling against the wood as though steadying himself before letting go entirely. He didn’t pause again—his stride was sure, deliberate, but softened at the edges by the way his gaze drank her in, reverent even in hunger. She had expressed needing a moment to make the bed but surprisingly, there was probably little use in doing so when the new idea of intimacy was intending on ruining it. Making it easy to close the space between them as though it had always been meant to vanish. His hand slipped to her hip first, palm warm over the fabric, thumb tracing the curve there as though to memorize her shape. The other rose to her jaw, gentle, coaxing her face up to his so he could look into her eyes before daring more.
“Ara,” he breathed her name like a secret, the word rasped but tender, almost worshipful. Thumb stroked just beneath her cheekbone, his forehead bowing to hers with a sigh that trembled more from emotion than restraint. For all his predator’s grace, his touch was sweet, his restraint proof of how much she mattered. Then he bent, lips brushing the corner of her mouth before pressing fully against hers—slow at first, savoring, coaxing rather than claiming. When he drew her closer, it wasn’t to consume her, but to align her heart with his own racing one, his arm slipping around her waist with both strength and care. He kissed her like she was fire itself—something he could master, yes, but never stop revering. “Fix the bed later.”
Araminta should’ve remembered that he could squelch the fire in mere seconds with nothing but his mage’s ability, else might have told him to wait a moment or too so she could unravel their bedroll and neatly arrange everything! Her fingers had barely grazed the edges of a pillow before he’d come into the hut, bidding her attention with gentle touch to deviate from her self appointed task.
She could not stand it when he said her name like that – literally, it made her knees feel weak and wobbly. Thankful that he had a hold on her, for she might’ve just slipped to the floor like a melted wax candle. It didn’t matter that he was impossibly tall compared to her, he bent to kiss her and it was immediate the way she tilted and molded her own body against him. Unabashedly placing her hands to his chest and sliding downwards to curl her fingers into the fabric of his tunic at his sides, for she did promise she’d be touching him for all hours of the night, didn’t she!
Even when she followed his mouth, wisping feather light against his lips, there was that innocent confusion in her expression when she pulled back a hand to gesture at her ever growing pile of blankets.
“Don’t we need them?” she asked in that whisper, somewhere in head knowing the obvious of course not, she’d certainly been around the world enough. Only, if one had a bed, then was that not the best of options!
Theon’s eyes flicked to the blankets when she gestured, but the thought scattered almost instantly as though it were too flimsy to anchor him. Leaving his chest to rise and fall quicker than before, the rhythm betraying just how thin his composure was stretched. “We… might,” he stammered, voice uneven, his mouth tugging at a hint of a half-smile that faltered under the weight of his want. “But—gods, Ara, I don’t care if we’re on stone or sand right now. I just—” The words caught, raw and earnest, spilling before he could refine them.
His hands tightened at her waist, pulling her flush against him with a swiftness that surprised even him. The suddenness of it drew out a shaky laugh, embarrassed at how easily she undid him, but he pressed his forehead to hers all the same. “I can’t think straight with you,” he confessed, voice low, rushed, almost pleading. “All I know is I want to keep you close. Closer than this.”
When he kissed her again, it was hungry, a touch of desperation in the way his lips found hers, in the way his fingers curled into her nightgown as though afraid she might drift from him if he didn’t hold on tight enough. He broke the kiss only to breathe her name, ragged, the sound trembling with nerves and need alike. “Blankets can wait,” he said finally, unsteady but certain, his storm-grey eyes wide and burning as though asking her to agree, to let him stay right where he was.
His feelings were most certainly mutual in the terms of being completely unable to think clearly. In fact, the only thing clear in her mind were images of just what she might do with him on stone, and sand, or wood and snow! Finding with close proximity and stolen kisses that suddenly making a bed didn’t seem so vital after all. That layers of fabric were actually quite a problem altogether, as even though his fingers curled into her nightgown with an obvious warmth, it was not near enough.
“…then blankets will wait,” she agreed with a rush of breath, finding boldness in this moment where he seemed to be at wits end, to steal her hands away up under his own tunic where she could find that scorching skin contact she so desperately craved. Splaying open palms over his stomach and finding her mouth going try at the way he constricted at her touch and those silver eyes found their stormiest grey.
He hadn’t been wrong, this would be an all night endeavor.
Even despite that in mind, Araminta found herself in a rush to push that tunic upwards to steal it away altogether. It’s presence practically offensive at this point!
Theon’s breath hitched, sharp and uneven, when her hands slipped beneath his tunic. Heat rippled through him in waves, muscles tightening beneath her palms as though her touch commanded him as surely as fire ever had. Jaw clenching to manifest a low sound rumbling in throat as she pushed higher, each inch of bared skin stealing more air from his lungs. Her name slipped from him then—broken, no more than a rasp that dissolved between their mouths. His hands abandoned the hem of her nightgown to catch her wrists, not to stop her, but to feel her there, to anchor himself in the reality of her touch.
When she pressed upward again, insistent, he yielded all at once—lifting his arms with clumsy eagerness so the tunic could be torn away. It vanished in a heartbeat, forgotten, leaving him bare-chested and unguarded, silver eyes storm-dark as they fixed on hers. Grasp found her waist again, sliding up the curve of her back, pulling her against him until skin met skin. The contact made him shudder, a rough exhale spilling past his lips as he bent to kiss her—deeper now, near desperate, his mouth moving with the hunger of a man who had no patience left for cloth or carefulness.
Keeping so close that there wasn’t a chance to escape from the threat of kiss bruised urgent and uneven, breaking only to drag his mouth along her jaw, her throat, as though every inch of her demanded reverence. His hands roamed with a clumsy uncertainty at first, before finding surer purpose—one splayed broad across her back, the other curling at her hip to draw her more fully against him.
When he guided her down, it was with strength that trembled faintly, a predator’s power softened into something unsteady with awe. The undressed bed to catch, but he was already following, lowering himself until his warmth pressed into her inescapably. A groan escaped him when her body yielded beneath his, raw and unbidden, as though she alone could undo him so completely. Pleading for her touch to trail everywhere! Shivering visibly, eyes fluttering closed as his forehead dropped to hers, his breath ragged and hot. No words came—only the rhythm of his breathing, the quiver of restraint, the rough sounds that broke from him any time she moved beneath him.
And when he finally drew back far enough to see her face, his expression spoke what his tongue could not—storm-grey eyes heavy with need, with awe, with the silent vow that he would not let the night end without her utterly tangled in him.
Araminta was a little worried he needed to stop her when he grasped her wrists, fears proven unfounded in an instant when he merely held her there against his heated skin. As if that very touch was what he needed to stay grounded here in the world. A strange juxtaposition to herself where where every scorching touch had her head swimming in the clouds. Likening every touch to making her as weightless as a feather.
Perhaps she’d change her mind a thousand times of when he was at his most handsome, for there she was again admiring the expanse of broad bare chest, those etching of scars littering his skin and the intense focus deep within his eyes, deciding this was that moment. Barely even having the chance to put her hands back on him when he decided, hungry and desperate… completely impossible for her not to meet it with her own wanting slip of tongue and gentle graze of teeth.
It was almost all too fast, for she wanted to savor every moment alone together like this. To burn each touch and anguished sound he made into her memory as they might not have another chance to simply revel in each other’s company. She answered his unspoken plea gladly, seeking out every plane of skin she could get her hands on. Squeezing taunt muscle here, caressing faded lines of scar tissue with the barest teasing touch. Bending to put her mouth in places that were making her skin flush even as she did so.
Then when and how the last of their clothing was discarded didn’t even cross her mind, so enchanted with this new power she had to illicit groans and growls from him simply with movements alone. Not letting him pull away from her to far before she was reaching out to grasp shoulders with a desperate enough need to dig her nails into his skin. Murmuring soft apologies and words of love into his ear when she circle her arms tight around his neck.
Her words, her touch, her nails digging into him—they shattered the last fragile edge of his restraint. Theon gave himself over to it, no longer holding back the strength in his body. His hips rolled into hers with surer weight, a rhythm that deepened with every breathless sound she coaxed from him. The bedrolls shifted beneath them, forgotten, his weight pressing her down as though he meant to merge every part of himself with her.
His hands grew bolder—sliding down the length of her thigh to hook it higher around his hip, pulling her closer still, until there was no space left between them. He groaned into her mouth when she yielded, the sound low, desperate, vibrating through her chest where it pressed against his. Each movement of his body was rougher now, more insistent, yet carried the reverence of a man worshipping with every thrust.
When he broke from her lips it was only to drag his mouth along her throat, biting gently at the delicate skin before soothing it with a wet, lingering kiss. Her gasp spurred him further, hips grinding into hers in a rhythm that was no longer clumsy but fierce, hungry, answering the storm she had summoned from him. His breath came hot against her ear, ragged, punctuated by groans he could not swallow, every sound a confession of how she undid him. He looked at her only briefly, storm-grey eyes wild and molten, before kissing her again—harder, deeper, claiming her with a reckless need. And when he pulled her tighter, nails pressing into her skin as his hips drove into hers, it was with the fever of a man who no longer cared for patience, only the desperate, physical proof that she was his, and he hers.
Somewhere he had learned to hear her unspoken pleas as well, forgoing any of his worries that she was something to be careful and delicate with. Or maybe she had found that magic touch that unleashed that feral fae within him, now to reap the rewards of being lovingly crushed beneath his weight. Hands kneading into her thighs and utterly destroying any thoughts that she might’ve been an elegant lady by the gasping cry of his name.
He made her feel like something wild, ravenous and alluring herself. Truly wishing to meet his fire with soft sweetness, yet how could she when ever rough and lurid thrust sent that churning ache deep into the core of her. Araminta could not think, she could not breathe. Toes curling against the bare bedroll as she twist and writhed, both wanting to still him and beg him to push harder until she was coiled so tight that she was certain she would break.
This itself was what finally undid her, all fervent passion and demanding claim – she hadn’t meant to bite his lip so hard! Yet when that first snap took her, she sunk in her teeth in sharp. Letting go in an instant later with head tilting away with her far too audible scream, arcing into his body with every following wave until she was gasping for breath and pleading his name. He’d promised a calamity of volumes and what a beautiful aching calamity it was!
There was no doubt in that moment that he’d broken with her, undone in the same fevered instant she arched and cried his name. Following over the edge, body shuddering with release, her scream echoing in his ears as though it had branded itself into him forever. Her bite still stung at his lip, the taste of copper mingling faintly with the salt of sweat, and he cherished even that—every ache, every mark she had left behind. Turning bodies into carnal canvas.
What came after blurred into hours that slipped away unnoticed. Their world collapsed into a rhythm of sweat-slicked skin, the tangle of limbs, the ragged rise and fall of breath. He was learning the secret cadence of her body, the way her silent pleas spoke louder than words, and he gave himself over to them—absolutely letting her pull the doctored feralness out of him, letting himself crush her close, letting every gasp of his name drive him deeper, harder, until there was nothing left but the calamity of them together.