“Panic attack?” Nickolas asked, as if testing out the words.

“You've never heard of the term?” Melat asked back, voice low.

The golden haired Mage brought the small cup of steaming tea to his lips as he mulled over the question. He had been surprised when his father in law pulled the pot from behind a stack of sketching paper, but it turned out to be the most pleasant surprise that day. For all that the tea had a horrendous smell, like wet peat in the morning sun, and didn't taste much better. The warm brew still served to warm his stomach, and to ground himself with the sharp taste while they discussed his wife's condition.

“No.” Nickolas eventually admitted. “Not by that name. She doesn't seem terribly panicked.”

“This is the aftermath.” Melat grunted. “Thank you for putting her to bed by the way, that usually helps.”

The costumer seemed even smaller now, sinking into his plush chair and sipping from his own cup with slow movements. Above them both a single small lantern filled the room with unnatural light, so pure and crisp it drew the eye constantly. Nickolas made a note in the back of his mind to dissect the artifact at a more convenient time.

“Is it a disease?” Nickolas asked carefully. “Something that can be treated?”

He knew from his talks with Marious over their long friendship that healing had come a long way from clumsily knitting flesh. Even without sharing precise techniques or rare treasures the herbs and materials from the Green had pushed healing magic far beyond what human healers could accomplish on their own. Often to wondrous results.

Even if a few overzealous Medicine Men ended up overselling the impact on certain ailments.

Melat shook his head sadly, staring at his desk.

“It's not-” he trailed off. “It's an affliction of the mind. There's nothing to really treat. Just how she is.”

Nickolas studied the orc's face as the idea sank in.

“If you can recognize this so easily it must be frequent.” he stated, shifting his posture as he reigned in the instinct to lean in.

“Much less now.” Melat reassured. “I honestly believed we were past this. Attacks this severe that is. They were far worse before she was a full adult.”

A wince tore across the orc's face.

“I suspect less contact with her mother helped.” he said quietly. “My bond was the cause of more incidents than my daughter and I want to admit I think.”

Nickolas took a deep breath, forcing past several unwise reactions.

“What are the symptoms, and how do we treat them?” he asked instead.

Melat's first response was to smile slightly and meet Nickolas's eyes before sipping his own tea.

“What?” Nickolas asked, before tamping down a spike of annoyance.

“Nothing.” his father in law lied. “We've already done most of what we need too. Necun's a big girl she can handle most of the rest. The best we can do is make sure you're the one to wake her. As for the symptoms-”

The orc paused to grind his teeth for a moment, Nickolas steadied his thoughts by imagining an overly complex rune structure for baking the perfect loaf of bread.

“Panic is not a perfect comparison, just the best we have.” his father in law began. “The healer we spoke to about it said it comes to each person slightly differently. For Necun it's a shortness of breath, and her vision goes wrong, dark at the edges. After that it feels like a 'claw is gripping my heart', in her own words. Sweating, a numbness in her fingers, and having to hear words several times before she can grasp their meaning can also occur in the more extreme cases.”

Nickolas stared at the orc in mute shock.

“As I said.” Melat said with a shrug. “Not quite comparable to normal panic, but it's the best shorthand we have.”

Battle shakes. the thought came to the Mage immediately. Well, close to them.

It was a controversial topic that was rarely spoken of outside of the Knights. Nickolas was first exposed to the information through his mother, and even discussing it with her in private was taboo.

Most of the actual details he had learned came from Marioius instead. The Medicine Man had tended to a few wounded women who required sedation before he could treat them. According to most Knights he had overheard talking about Battle shakes it was something that only impacted inexperienced women during their first few battles. There was a certain shame to admitting you felt the effects, even as a squire. Each Knight only seemed to talk about it's effect on others.

I never would have guessed. Nickolas considered, recalling how Necun reacted during and after the various fights on their journey. She seemed so sure, so calm most of the time. She only snapped at me a few times, but that felt more like a lack of sleep. But then that's exactly how the Knights always talked about it, 'nah Catherine's fine she just gets weepy when she gets into her wine'.

“It's nothing dangerous.” Melat said suddenly, staring at Nickolas's face intently. “Unpleasant yes, but she'll be alright with time, and she's never lashed out beyond a few harsh words. The best thing for her is comfort.”

Visions of Knights leaping to their feet upon hearing an out of place sound came to mind. The occasional servant even had stories of being struck for coming around a corner at the wrong moment and surprising a woman fresh off a beast hunt.

Nickolas breathed deep, letting his face go blank.

'I would never hurt you'. She had said on that first night.

Nickolas believed her then.

He believed her now.

The mask dropped a heartbeat after it formed.

“Naturally.” he said with a slight smile, meeting Melat's gaze fully. “She is my wife, my bond, I have no fear of her, I'm just concerned about her safety. Who else is aware?”

“We've kept it quiet.” Melat replied, with the slightest quiver in his voice. “Her mother doesn't even know. Not sure about her usual pod, they might suspect something, but I certainly haven't told them.”

The orc's eyes hardened.

“And you won't tell anyone either.” he said sternly, with a hint of iron creeping beneath crushing the quiver. “The only reason I spoke of this is because you are her bond. She might not even forgive me for this.”

Nickolas nodded, thoughts elsewhere.

“On my honor.” the Mage said easily.

----------------------------------------

Necun awoke to gentle fingers caressing her shoulder, and a spike of pain between her eyes.

She growled, and rolled over to smash her face into a pillow.

Then her memories cracked the surface of her slogging brain and she bolted upright.

In a stroke of luck Nickolas dodged backwards in time to miss a headbutt. The golden haired man caught himself on a stack of crates by the bed. Necun noticed his free hand twisting for a brief moment, but her bond dismissed the magic as quickly as it had formed.

Her gaze met his, and though his face was twisted up in annoyance at the scare Necun felt her heart jump as she looked into his bright eyes. It took effort, but eventually she broke her stare to scan the room. She was surprised the guest room could be cleaned out to this degree so quickly, though further inspection showed the boys had simply packed the clutter up to the ceiling to clear space. It would still all have to go at some point, but at least it could wait for a few days.

“Are you alright?” Nickolas asked, features growing soft again.

Necun wasn't alright, she hadn't had a panic attack in a long time, long enough that she thought she might finally be rid of them, and the sudden reemergence frightened her more than a little. Still, she wasn't going to spill her guts right here. Concerning her bond, or worse scaring him, wouldn't help anything. The nap had also given her enough energy that she felt confident she could handle the council. In a few days with plenty of rest of rest she would be calm enough that her foolish mind could perform it's duties properly.

Her chest still felt tight.

It stung like failure.

“Here, your father made tea.” Nickolas said, handing her a steaming cup.

It smelled perfect, just the right amount of bitter from a long soak in steaming water. Her tongue soon confirmed her nose's suspicions. It was a darker brew, expertly roasted, with just the right blend of earthen tones. Just like her childhood favorites.

The warm drink sank into her core, and a few heartbeats later she felt alert enough to stand without wobbling.

“How many bells?” she asked slightly groggy.

“Your father said the council bell hasn't rung, but it will come soon.” Nickolas replied. “We can leave as soon as you're ready. Though he does want to work on our outfits first.”

Necun closed her eyes and sipped at her tea.

“Sorry for this.” she mumbled out, hoping her voice merely sounded tired. “The trip here exhausted me more than I thought. I'll be ready to go in a moment.”

Her bond didn't respond, and when she opened her eyes again his face had slipped back into that cold mask.

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

It bothered her, and deep down her stomach froze.

Relax Necun. she thought, despite the fear rising. He can't have guessed, he's just worried because he cares about you.

The thought was a warming tonic that mixed well with the tea. Nickolas cared about her. Just slightly, but he did care. It was early in the bond, but Necun knew she could make those feelings bloom until he mirrored the love she felt for him. Even if the need for patience itched.

With her worry quelled she focused on enjoying the moment of calm.

A flicker of movement caught her eye, and she glanced up, finding her father lurking near the door.

Her extremely guilty looking father.

Dread coiled in her gut, all the worse for the moment of calm.

Necun's widening eyes flicked back to her bond, who still bore the icy expression she was learning to hate.

“Father-” she choked out.

“I told him.” her father interrupted, his words hitting like a blade in the back. “As your bond he deserves to know, and I knew you would be too stubborn to share unless-”

Necun lurched back, grip tightening on her cup as her emotions swirled wildly. Her aura came alive, convinced she had been physically struck. It nearly felt like another attack was looming, causing her fear to spike further.

A hand gripped her arm, and although her mind recognized Nickolas's touch she still reflexively pulled back. The shame was almost as bad as the surprise on his face.

Nickolas withdrew his hand slowly. Necun hated the look on his face. Like he was a doll, just a blank expression showing nothing of the emotions within.

“Well?” she spat with far more venom than intended.

What response do I even expect? the thought came to her even as bile rose in her throat. What answer would I even want?

Whatever response she wanted, she didn't expect Nickolas to fold his hands in front of himself and remain silent. Necun's breathing felt wrong, her aura wasn't helping either, demanding action. Another panic attack was forming and she hated every moment of it.

Her father opened his mouth, and deep in her heart Necun knew he was about to make things worse. If he told her to calm down-

“You should finish your tea before it gets cold.” Nickolas's voice hit her like a slap.

The words were so far outside of what she expected, her very aura froze as she parsed their meaning. Twelve heartbeats later she raised the cup to her lips and drank, simply because she couldn't think of anything else to do.

As the brew warmed her core again she felt a hand touch her leg. Nickolas was leaning forward, and after a visible hesitation, moved his palm up her thigh. The feeling from the contact was strange, as if her body didn't know how to process touch any longer. Her aura on the other hand was growling in her ear, confused. It knew that their bond touching them was good, comforting, yet still it searched for the hidden threat.

It bought her time. Consciously Necun started to breathe deep. The long action forced each breath into regularity. Three heartbeats in and four out. Each breath was a conscious action, distracting the rest of her mind from searching for nonexistent beasts lurking in the shadows.

As she pulled away from the edge of panic, other small things caught her eye. The pile of her weapons on the floor, taken from their sheathes to make her more comfortable as she slept. Nickolas's robe, which she just now realized was a dull gray, and slightly too large for him.

There was a slight rasping sound that caught her attention. Something that accompanied each intake of breath. Necun glanced around searching for the source, only to realize it was her bond's own breathing.

Nickolas had closed his eyes, his face dropping into a peaceful expression. His breathing was matched to hers, the golden haired Mage taking in deep lungfuls of air and dramatically releasing them. It had taken him a few tries to match her rhythm, but now her bond matched her breath for breath.

The sight of her bond, the man she loved, copying her without question, shattered the last of the attack's hold on her heart. Necun pulled her bond's hand into hers as she shifted to a more comfortable sitting position.

Nickolas opened his beautiful eyes.

“Why did you do that?” she asked quietly.

A pause.

“It seemed like the right thing to do in the moment.” Nickolas admitted.

The Mage blinked, his face contorting as if baffled by his own answer.

Then he shrugged, and interlaced his fingers with Necun's.

“Could you hand me my axe?” Necun asked, past the point of caring if the comfort would embarrass her later.

Nickolas snatched the weapon off the floor with a bit of strain, twisting his back awkwardly, seemingly unwilling to release Necun's hand. The sight made the Hunter snort, and after she had sheathed the axe, basking slightly in the comfortable weight on her armor, she pulled Nickolas into her lap.

For a long stretch of time she sat there, nuzzling and occasionally kissing her bond. His lips tasted of tea.

Her arms wrapped around his middle, squeezing him close. Soon after he was playing with her fingers. It was a curious touch, tracing the lines and callouses of her hands as if studying foreign text. Their breathing still matched, though her bond's hitched when she nibbled his neck just right.

The moment stretched, and the last dregs of her panic died. She claimed another round of kisses to celebrate.

“It's time to go.” she finally whispered to Nickolas while their foreheads were pressed together intimately. “We'll be late otherwise.”

Her bond hummed in agreement, but kissed his way down her throat anyway. A shiver went up her spine, and her aura purred in her ear that they could always put off a stupid session of talking for this.

Unfortunately Necun's rational mind reasserted itself.

She wiped away the last remnants of the tears that stained her face and neck before standing. Nickolas made a series of tempting sounds, but rolled away regardless.

In the heat of the moment she had completely forgotten her father, and the sight of him standing in the doorway startled her. Her emotions were already a wreck, and Necun was trying to focus on the task at hand until she could properly vent them without the council hanging over her head. Yet her father's downcast expression required an answer. He deserved it.

“I-” Necun started, pausing when her father raised his head to look at her with a guilt stained face.

The Hunter grasped for the words. She wanted to be angry. And yet.

“I forgive you.” she decided.

Her father smiled back, and nodded.

“Let's get you ready for council.” he declared, with a dash of cheer patched on.

While Necun tried to think of a dramatically humorous response she felt an impact at her side.

Gazing down she found her bond hugging her waist, staring up at her with wide eyes.

“Feathers?” he asked, voice full of hope.

Necun blinked.

“Feathers.” her father agreed.

She switched her attention to the grinning costumer.

“Feathers.” both men said, nodding to each other.

The Hunter couldn't find it in herself to be upset. Just resigned.

-------------------------------------------

When Nickolas finally strode out of the house he was a riot of colour. As it turned out costumers had a knack for flamboyance. His wife had grumbled, but a few wide eyed looks of pleading got her to agree to matching outfits.

She was still in her damaged armor, but had donned a light undershirt. It did nothing to cover up the Hunter's flowing muscles, but added a nice background colour for the rest of the adornments. Her dark black armor blended well with the gray shirt, the damage even more pronounced. A variety of feathers were woven into the armor straps, changing from blue to red as they flowed up Necun's chest. It continued up into her freshly braided hair the red feathers mixing well with her bright red locks and adding texture wherever they appeared.

The face paint favored purples and blues instead, more intricate than the traditional paint worn for hunts. Patterns bloomed in complicated spiral patterns that made Necun's eyes pop. When she grinned the effect redoubled, contrasting perfectly with her tusks. As they stepped into the shadowed street the Hunter appeared to cut through the shadows as she walked.

While Necun was dressed for ferocity and impact, Nickolas went for ethereal beauty. Gone was the baggy gray robe, in it's place was a long garment of cascading white folds. The skirt just barely avoided touching the ground via concealed straps underneath, which ensured the skirt barely covered his sandaled feet and let him walk like he was drifting across the ground. The long flared sleeves ended just before his wrists, and strips of extra light cloth dangled from the elbow, breaking up his silhouette.

On the white canvass that was his robe feathers twirled in spiral patterns up and around his body. As the only source of colour on the garment they drew the eye in a path around Nickolas's entire outfit so the full effect could be felt. Around his neck was a choker made from a bright red glassy substance pressed into leather. The slightest beam of light made the glass shine, Melat hoped it would catch well in the dimmer light of the council room. Choosing how to wear his hair had taken time, but eventually an exasperated Necun had recommended he braid his hair in the same style she had. Melat agreed, but insisted on setting the braid on the opposite side for symmetry.

The effect of the feathers was even more pronounced with his golden hair, fascinating Melat to no end. Nickolas's father in law demanded the Mage model more outfits for him the moment he had the time.

At the face paint Nickolas re-diverged from his wife, choosing largely mild make up save for his eyes which were shadowed by the brilliant purples Nickolas loved.

It was such a lovely colour on him, even Necun said so. Her deep blush as she murmured the words raised Nickolas's mood several notches by itself. As did her shocked face when he replied with how ravishing she looked.

Now they walked the darkened streets, making haste for the council chamber. The bell was expected any moment, and a part of Nickolas tensed for the sound. They would already be late, but manageably so according to Necun. They could skip much of the opening ceremonies without issue, and slip in when needed. They also didn't plan to stay for the entire council.

Nickolas was a touch disappointed that his fantastic new outfit would be on display for such a short time. Yet he was satisfied with the knowledge that it would burn an impression into the minds of everyone who saw it anyway.

He wished Marious could see them. The man had no sense for fashion, but a surprising eye for colour. Nickolas decided he would pick out a few outfits for his friend when he had the time.

Necun sped up, her long stride lengthening, and Nickolas found he had to grasp his skirt to keep pace without tipping over. A heartbeat after he opened his mouth to ask why she was suddenly in a rush they broke from the dark alley and into the proper main street. Instantly Necun's steps slowed, and Nickolas clicked his mouth shut. The murderer had slipped his mind in the excitement, but he was grateful Necun was being cautious.

He would hate to get blood on his new clothes.

As he moved under the glare of a streetlamp, arm in arm with his wife, he glanced up to study the make of it. Under the orc made glass a mage light crafted by his people's hands glowed. He suspected none but the largest of roads could be lit with the artifacts, but the inclusion of his peoples work in the orc city still warmed him.

I wonder what they used before we began trading? Nickolas mused. Fire lamps? The Queendoms use them often enough. I hear it's common in the far fortresses as well, but they have a proper source of pitch. I suppose they could burn wood, but that would be rather resource intensive just for lighting a few roads. Not to mention dangerous.

Necun caught him staring by the third lamp.

“You'll ruin your night vision.” she warned as they stepped from one pool of light into the shallow shadows.

“Ah, but that's all the better when I burn a bright fire spell in the middle of a fight.” Nickolas shot back. “I'll be the one to get my sight back first after our eyes are seared by the light. After that I would just need to cast quietly. They literally won't see the spell until it strikes them.”

Necun grunted and furrowed her brow, as if she had never considered the point before.

“You know how to be quiet?” the Hunter asked.

Nickolas studied his wife's face for several steps. The corner of her mouth twitched.

“Was that...a joke?” the Mage asked, keeping his voice calm.

“Not a good one.” Necun admitted, face slipping into a smile. “But it was the right moment for one. I couldn't think of anything actually clever.”

“We'll work on it.” Nickolas said, squeezing her arm affectionately. “The confidence is the first step anyway. Or so I'm told.”

Necun grunted, seemingly in agreement.

“I think that may be something the older Hunters say when their overused jokes don't land.” she countered. “I've known plenty of girls who wouldn't even meet your eyes as they murmured the funniest comment you've heard in days.”

The image caused Nickolas to chuckle warmly.

As they continued to chatter to each other on the road Nickolas began to construct a new runic circle in his head. It was a simple modification of a fire blast spell, but with the runes adjusted to focus on the light of the fire instead of the heat. Pure light would work just as well for blinding he supposed, but he preferred to work with fire regardless. Besides, there was something about fire that made it want to pop into existence when called by magic. A perfect aspect to enhance a spell meant to blind in a heartbeat instead of gently light a room.

At some point the bells tolled again, announcing the start of the council meeting. The sound set shook Nickolas's bones in their joints, and he clutched tight to Necun while they rang.

Just before he could work in the air runes needed to turn the fire into a white hot flame Necun had them turn a corner.

The road under their feet shifted from steady stones the colour of bleached bone to creaking ancient boards of wood. Necun's stride kept steady on the creaking trail, even as it narrowed and the warping of boards grew ever more severe.

The lamps did not shine here, and Nickolas had to tug on Necun's arm to make her slow down so he could navigate the troublesome boards without catching his skirt. They were approaching the trunk of the great tree, having just now stepped off the spine of the beast the orcs had crafted their city from. Others were in sight now, moving at varying speeds as they too sought the council chambers.

Whispering conversations melded together into a low buzz as they reached the end of the path. Firelight filtered through the small crowd as they filed towards a destination Nickolas couldn't quite see. Most of the figures were hooded, a few passed trinkets hand to hand as they shuffled forward.

Then the group stopped dead, the bonded pair stopped with them, near the back. A shiver went through the crowd, one that Nickolas recognized as close to what he saw when a merchant was held up at a gate, and his fellows behind him settled in for a short yet boring wait.

More than a few eyes fell on the Mage's sparkling outfit. Yet no one approached.

Nickolas was about to ask his wife what everyone was waiting for when a terrible creaking cracked in the air. Slowly, on heavy corded ropes he just now could see in the light of the two burning fires at the path's edge, a platform rose into the air above.

The platform was a heavy boxy thing, and so dark it could only be seen as a silhouette against the tree's brown bark. It rose and rose, picking up speed as it carried more than forty individuals up into the looming branches of the great tree.

Nickolas followed the process as long as he could with his eyes, and surmised it was headed for the building he had saw as just a speck when they first approached the city.

The Mage swallowed dryly, as he calculated just how high up they would be when addressing the council.

He gave up when he could only measure against the mountains of his homeland.