Nickolas woke up sore. His back screamed as he moved. The Mage was fairly certain he felt more than one splinter poking under his skin. Meanwhile his hips felt like they had been smacked with a rod all night, any shift causing his very bones to creak.
Then he swallowed dryly, feeling his neck wake up enough to protest. Bruising for sure.
Worth it. the golden haired man thought smugly.
Necun shifted in her sleep beside him. Nickolas took a moment to appreciate his lover's body before laying his head on her thighs. As tough as they were they made for better pillows than the hardwood flooring. Remembering all the work he did to set up a sleeping area for both himself and his wife brought a sardonic smile to the Mage's face. In retrospect he concluded that he should have thrown a number of pillows and blankets on the floor, which would at least guarantee a soft surface.. Neither him or his wife would have been happy with cramped sleeping spaces for long, not enough room for cuddling.
They had already gotten accustomed to sleeping together. Even if the noise, or slight jostling tended to wake Nickolas up a few times each night.
His hand absentmindedly stroked Necun's leg as he drifted in the lovely place between sleep and alertness. The events of the previous night played out in his head.
The council. And his fight against the assassins pushed to the fore of his mind instantly.
His first instinct had been...rash. The first spell to come to the Mage's mind had been the experimental spell form he had played with on the way. It was only due to the golden haired Mage's impeccable spellcrafting skill that it had worked the way he intended at all. He counted himself lucky that it hadn't just blown up in his face or set his robes on fire.
Regarding his robes, the thought hadn't even struck Nickolas until the fight was long passed that he was wearing clothes which didn't have even a speck of protective enchantments.
The idea was distressing, and the desire to escape the council had spiked with the realization, held in check only by the critical eyes of the clan leaders around him. He had tamped down the feeling long enough to endure Necun's retelling of the tithe, and extended his stay for appearances by taking comfort in his wife's arms. The Mage hoped he hadn't given away too much to the questing eyes of the council, but he certainly hadn't needed to feign fear at any point.
Now however, sitting in a place he considered as safe, close to a woman he knew would protect him the moment the time came, his thoughts drifted to something more complex.
The moment seared into his mind.
Killing the nameless assassin who was crawling from the floor.
Ethically, honorably, there was no question. It was an armed killer coming to end his life, one who was a threat not just to him, but everyone else defending themselves in the room.
Anything he did, any magic he wielded to end such a honorless cur's life was justified. The only horror that might emerge would be the concern that a man shouldn't have to engage in such work. Any court in the heartlands would be aghast at the idea of a man needing to kill, even in a sanctioned duel. Men were not meant to end lives, just as they could not bring lives into being. They were solely concerned with the middle ground, tending to life, acting as caretakers and stewards while the women dealt with life and death matters.
Nickolas counted himself lucky that he was born instead to the fortress dwelling mountain peoples, who, despite their many differences, understood how foolish such notions were.
Not to say that they didn't consider men to primarily be caretakers, but when a beast rushed out of the Green to terrorize villages the roles blurred very quickly. War Mages were seen as a tragic necessity, but they were a necessity, not a background flowery position for show. War Mages who had earned their place marched and fought with the Knights anywhere they went. It was one of the many things that the heartlands disdained the outlying regions for.
Nickolas knew all this. He knew that if Molly or any other Knight, including his mother heard of the attack they would just be concerned with his safety. At best they would admonish his hosts for letting him come that close to harms way. Some of the bolder women, including many of his orcish hosts he suspected, would congratulate him on punching through an aura so quickly and completely. His lightning had indeed pierced the protective light of the assassin with ease, slipping through the wispy yellow to zap flesh.
He should be proud. Everyone who cared about him would be worried or proud. Why wasn't he proud?
Why could he only remember the fear and pain in the masked woman's eyes as she shook from his spell ripping at her body? Why could he hear her screams of anguish? Why did he want to vomit when the image of her lifeless corpse sprawled awkwardly on the broken floorboards drifted through his mind?
None of this was right, he was a proper War Mage. He had fought beasts, was expected to fight in wars. The Knights handled death just fine, baring a few squeamish squires. His hosts had barely flinched after their battle, just respecting their own dead with grief before handling the bodies of their would be killers.
He doubted any of them would lay in bed and think of the faces of the women they fought to the death in that dark room.
Was it because he was a man? Was there some truth to the notion? Despite his accomplishments, his rejection of the softness he was pushed towards, was he doomed to be scarred because he held the soft heart of a man?
Nickolas let out a shuddering breath, and a heartbeat later Necun stirred.
“Mrump?” his lover gurgled, running a hand down her face. “What?”
“Morning.” Nickolas purred, pushing his anxiety back down. “Or, well, I'm not sure if it's still morning or not, we got back fairly late.”
As the Hunter's mind crept into wakefulness Nickolas watched her face.
He loved the little dimple when her brow furrowed, it coupled well with the sharpness of her dark eyes when she was focused.
Necun released a long groan, Nickolas surmised she was remembering events of the previous day.
“Any chance we're still in the Green and all of this is a fever dream we're having on the stones of a campsite?” she muttered. “Do you remember eating any strange plants?”
“I'm from the human lands Necun.” Nickolas reminded her. “All your plants are strange.”
Necun raised her head enough to look the Mage in the eye,
“You have to watch for the purple flowers.” the Hunter deadpanned. “They scream too much. The orange ones are better. Especially if you want sleeping hallucinations instead of walking around the whole time.”
Nickolas narrowed his eyes in return.
“You're joking.” he surmised. “But I'm not sure about which part.”
He received a grin in return.
“We'll try some one day and you can find out.” Necun purred.
The Mage rolled his eyes and smacked the Hunter in the side.
“No doing drugs together.” he admonished, settling his head back onto her thighs. “Not until Marious makes sure they're safe. He can supervise too, it's best to have a healer on hand if you're going to be out of your mind.”
“That ruins the whole fun!” Necun exclaimed. “The whole point is waking up to find the stupid shenanigans you got up to while dreaming!”
Nickolas shook his head and sighed, ignoring his wife for the moment.
A moment later he felt a hand on the back of his head. It carefully lifted him off his lover's thighs, after which the orc shuffled down and set his head back on her stomach. At first Nickolas was confused, then he felt his wife's hand caress his chest and it all made sense.
He managed to keep his face steady even as a shock went up his back. Something about Necun's sharp nails running up his chest did something to his libido.
“Shhh.” he shushed, eyes closed. “Not now, I'm still recovering from last night.”
As the words left his mouth he processed what he said fully.
The Mage failed to keep the cringe off his face.
Instantly Necun's hand left his chest, and the shame mixed with apprehension flooded in to the void left behind by his vanishing lust.
“Sorry sorry!” Necun began. “I didn't mean to-”
“It's fine.” Nickolas replied, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. “You didn't do anything wrong! I was just...”
When he reached into his mind for an excuse the terrified eyes of the assassin stared back.
Nickolas's mouth felt dry. He swallowed anyway. His eyes remained closed, he wasn't certain he could keep his face calm if he saw Necun's expression.
Necun's hand returned, caressing his jaw. Tears welled in his traitorous eyes. He choked back a sob.
Time passed, holding back the sob, swallowing it, worked only so long, and soon he was gasping for air. The last vestiges of resistance snapped, and he curled up on himself. A river of pain was flowing through his body, there was no chance to control it. Knowing that Necun was watching burned, a shame that he distantly realized would haunt him long after this burst of weakness.
Weak. the golden haired Mage seethed. I'm so weak. Why am I even here? I couldn't even make it back home. Why would the orcs respect me? I've been here less than a day and I'm already breaking down like all the other men sent away from their villages. And all this time I thought I was better than them. What a pompous idiot I am. Looking down on the men who were forced into the most dangerous thing they could imagine with women they didn't know as their wives. I'm no different from a noble looking down from their manor at the people who built it in the first place. No I'm worse than them.
He was lying on his side, covering his face with his hands. Tears streamed down, his breath was closer to choking.
Necun pulled him up into her lap, the strong arms of the orc prevented even the suggestion of shaking her off. Pulled close his wife felt like a furnace, the heat of her skin surrounding him.
Part of the Mage's mind took comfort in that. The other parts were too busy spiraling into overwhelming depths of pain.
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Necun was clutching her bond to her chest, keeping her breath steady as he heaved sobs into his own hands. Her breathing was steady, but the Hunter didn't know how long that would last. At first she had felt another panic attack rising, only for it to be squashed by her protective instincts. Her mate needed her help not a mess of anxiety writhing alongside him.
It was a strange sensation for the orc, to be the one comforting.
She was starting to realize she wasn't any good at it.
Racking her memories for a solution had helped slightly. She had at the very least realized how to avoid the common pitfalls that always made her own experience worse. A bitter feeling of comradery had come over the Hunter, as she remembered all the moments where a casual word of generic comfort stung like a knife in the gut.
The same words hung at the end of her lips now. It seemed so easy, so automatic, to offer the same phrases one would say if someone lost their relative recently, or a broken bond. All the little words that meant 'I care!' but in the moment of actual hardship tasted so bitter it could be poison.
So Necun remained silent, focusing on physical comfort instead as her bond wept messily. His shoulders were shaking, and the orc wondered if she could maneuver towards the bed and wrap her lover in a blanket without disturbing him overly much.
She counted herself lucky that her father had already left the house, for what purpose she didn't know, but the inclusion of another person was not a factor she wanted to add to the situation. It was already too volatile and unknown. Her ears perked up, listening for her fathers footsteps amongst the churning river of noise outside the walls of the small house.
No one was coming yet, so she waited, rocking Nickolas gently as his weeping jerked to a halt, replaced by silent shaking.
“Please look at me.” Necun whispered, running on a gut feeling.
To her surprise Nickolas complied, slowly unclenching his hands and turning his head up to look at Necun. Even filled with tears his bright eyes caused Necun's heart to flutter.
While maintaining eye contact the orc started to run her fingers through her bond's messy hair, untangling it slightly with each pass.
“Thank you.” the Hunter said softly, taking care not to tug on Nickolas's hair when she found a tangle.
The pair stayed for a while on the hardwood floor, Necun tending to her bond's hair as he collected himself.
“I need to get dressed.” the Mage eventually murmured, voice heavy from crying.
Without a word Necun released him, watching carefully as he stumbled through the door to the guest room and shut it. The moment it clicked closed she released a shuddering breath herself and dropped back onto the floor. It was hardly over, her heart still ached with fresh worry, and she expected a long discussion after this. Yet for now she had passed the hurdle without making everything worse.
In a twist she saw a slight benefit to her panic attacks, as without the experience on the other side of a breakdown she wasn't sure she could have maneuvered her bond's own moment without a critical mistake.
I would still prefer to never have a panic attack ever. Necun thought. But we take the iron where we can find it. What matters now is making sure Nickolas feels safe. And finding out what caused...that, if anything.
The door reopened with a creak. Nickolas, looking hollow, shuffled back into the room.
He had donned a light gray robe, likely another of her father's spares, or perhaps one meant to be altered for a costume. It hung around the Mage's shoulders heavily, but looked warm and comfortable.
“Are you getting dressed?” he quietly asked Necun.
The Hunter considered it for a moment.
“I don't plan on going out.” she replied.
Nickolas nodded, not looking her in the eye as he sat near her. Folding her legs Necun studied her bond. He was worn, more exhausted than he had been while resting against her thighs, but back in control.
He's not putting on the cold face again. Necun considered with relief. That would have been bad.
The orc knew that if Nickolas closed her off now there was little she could do. Pushing to help when the person you were helping resisted could tear a relationship apart. That, at least, her father had understood from the start.
“Would you sit in my lap again?” Necun offered, patting her thigh. “It will feel good for both of us. I hope.”
She made sure to put as much pleading in her eyes as she could, it came naturally, she had wanted to cuddle her bond outside of their sensual encounters for a while now. There had just never been time. There still wasn't, most likely, Necun assumed that her mother and the Chief had orders now that the council itself had been attacked. The Hunter couldn't bring herself to care, at least compared to comforting her bond, whose hurts seemed deeper than she had imagined.
After a bit of shuffling Nickolas decided to comply. The golden haired man scooched himself into her lap, resting his head against her collarbone and closed his eyes.
“I'm sorry about...that.” the Mage whispered after a long silence. “I didn't...I shouldn't have...sorry.”
Necun's arms were around her bond again, and she began to rock steadily.
“What are you apologizing for?” she tried.
Several heartbeats passed, Necun felt her bond shiver.
“For putting all this on you.” he eventually squeaked out. “So much is happening already and you shouldn't have to worry over me just because I can't handle it.”
The instinct to reject the entire notion, to tell her bond that he was wrong in no uncertain terms, was so strong Necun could taste it on her tongue.
“What part aren't you handling?” she asked instead, trying to understand her bond's pain before she made a critical mistake.
“If you're comfortable telling me, you don't have to.” Necun added before Nickolas could respond, backtracking into a less confrontational push.
Her bond shuddered again. He was silent for a long time.
“I've never...been in combat before.” the Mage eventually admitted, voice thick.
Necun had to parse what her bond was saying. She had seen him in combat before, he had fought both the swarm and snare beast, though in both cases they were focused on escaping. He had come close to death.
Is that what he means? she wondered. From the moment we've entered the Green his life has been on the line. Then we finally reach the city, he has a short time to relax, and we are attacked again. For someone who's used to safe walls of stone that's.....
Necun couldn't imagine what it would be like, her mind gazed into the problem and found she had no frame of reference.
She pulled Nickolas closer to her bare chest.
“Listen to my heartbeat.” she said, making a decision. “Hear it?”
Nickolas nodded against her chest.
“We are bonded.” the Hunter stated seriously. “And that means, beneath the vows, the tender moments, even our household when the time comes to form it, we are bound together. As long as my heart beats, as long as there is breath in my lungs, I will be here for you and you for me.”
“It's how you helped me earlier, so easily, so naturally.” she continued, starting at the floor as she focused on the right words. “I knew, down to my aura, that you would never hurt me. I can trust you always. You don't know that you can trust me yet, not deep down, but I hope you will soon, so I can help you with this.”
Necun trailed off, not sure how to finish her declaration.
Just below her collarbone she felt Nickolas's fingers curl into a fist.
“Promise me you won't pity me.” the Mage said in a tone that broke Necun's heart.
“I swear I won't pity you.” Necun said easily, hardening herself against what was coming next.
Silence loomed as her bond collected himself.
“When I close my eyes.” he began. “I see the face of the assassin who came out of the floor. The one I struck before you arrived. The one who swung at me. And I...”
Silence again, Necun glanced down to see Nickolas hiding behind his ruffled hair. A heartbeat later she heard the sound of teeth grinding.
“It hurts...to think about.” he finally whispered. “And it hurts that it hurts. And every time I try to turn my thoughts away I fail.”
Necun thought she understood well. She had known the moment before the blade struck flesh, or a beast struck with a fanged maw. The moments where if her reaction was wrong, or her body responded just a touch slower she would have died. Some had haunted her for days, causing her to wake in a cold sweat. She pulled her bond just a touch tighter.
“And I can't handle it.” Nickolas said, voice tipping close to a sob. “The moment I was left alone with my thoughts I just see her eyes and....”
More gritting of teeth.
“Why am I so weak?” he hissed. “I fall apart on my first battle? Like some fainting flower? I prepared for this for my whole life and now I can't handle it? What a joke.”
A dozen refusals danced on Necun's tongue, none seemed appropriate. Instead she thought of a story she was told as a girl.
“There is something I heard once.” she began, rubbing Nickolas's back. “A story told in the forges to new smiths, but I think it will apply here. A young pair of smiths, bonded, declare that they shall forge a blade stronger than any other. A blade with steel so strong that it would slice through any common blade with ease.”
Necun glanced down, seeing those bright eyes starting back through a curtain of hair. She had his attention.
“The smiths' teachers are amused more than anything.” the Hunter continued, slipping into her storytelling voice. “Many confident students make bold claims, but something about this particular declaration appeals to them. The young smiths are talented, and have been working hard at their tasks. They have just learned the secret of hardening steel. And so, their teachers agree to let them try, with a dagger at first, to make a blade so strong it can slice through another.”
The Mage's watery eyes had narrowed. Her first objective was achieved, his mind was focused on the puzzle, the trap the two smiths were walking into. It would distract him from his pain, if just for a moment.
“Obviously the pair were excited, eager to make their blade. But they were also cautious, if they failed here it would dash their pride and they would be mocked for cycles to come.” Necun explained. “They took the materials provided and hid themselves away in the smallest forge. Many days and nights passed as the couple worked on their blade. The forge's greatest craft workers watched with amusement as they wore themselves raw working on their dagger. The prideful smiths rested in shifts as they treated and altered the blade, hardening the steel with every technique they were taught.”
Realization dawned in her lover's eyes.
“They hardened the whole blade?” he asked, amusement breaking through the heavy dint of his voice. “All the way through?”
“They cast it as one piece.” Necun said with a grin. “And hardened the steel until it was as strong as they could manage.”
Necun was glad her bond knew enough about steel to understand the point. It was one of those little things she had learned when asking foolish questions in her youth. Something she was far prouder of now than she was then. Foolish questions could make a woman wise if she listened for the answer.
“Eventually they emerged, covered in sweat and soot.” she resumed. “And the pair proudly presented their dagger to their teachers, who, in turn, were duly impressed by the smiths' work. So, in order to test the young couple's claim, handed them a dagger another student had forged. One soft, with barely an edge to it.”
Nickolas nodded, clearly having guessed the story's end.
“The plan was to test it on a block of wood, then each other.” Necun continued. “That didn't happen, since the proud smiths' work shattered on the first blow against the hardened wood of a Giant. The story goes that the young smiths were so shocked didn't even dodge the shower of steel splinters as it splashed across their faces.”
The ending wasn't very dramatic unfortunately, not if you knew why steel was forged the way it was. But Nickolas still released an amused chuckle.
“And so the smiths learned why making the strongest blade was a pointless goal, when compared to making a blade that could actually perform it's duty.” Necun finished, smiling down at Nickolas. “Do you understand why I, as a Hunter, was told this story?”
“Because any smith who it was mentioned to immediately knew that making such a blade was a fools endeavor?” Nickolas asked, being clever. “Even the apprentices, who the story is meant to be about?”
“I will admit it's a bit far fetched.” Necun agreed, scratching at her jaw. “I'm sure actual smiths are told some story involving Scavengers or something. But no, there is meant to be a deeper lesson here. One that relates to you, and us.”
The orc Hunter stared her bond in the eye, looking deep.
“If you try to be strong everywhere all the time you will shatter like badly forged steel.” she intoned. “The same is true if you build a relationship, or pursue any goal. We are not stone, to hold fast and only crack under the greatest of pressures. We are just people, meant to bend and adapt to the wind like a branch full of rustling leaves. That's not an option, it's the only way to survive.”
She leaned forward to press her forehead to Nickolas's brow.
“So when you need to bend to avoid shattering, find me. Lean on me. Rely on me.” Necun begged. “Let me support you the way you supported me. Allow us to be strong together, at the edges, and soft together, in the middle. Where we can shake the pressure away in private. I ask you not because I think you're soft or weak. You're not, you're the strongest man I have ever met. I ask this of you because I cannot bear to see you break. I am not strong enough to handle it. Nor do I want to be. Please. Trust me Nickolas. Trust our bond.”
For a moment Nickolas held her gaze. Then he released a shuttering breath, pulled back, and thumped his forehead against her chest.
“That was very dramatic.” he murmured. “I can tell your father works with theater folk.”
Of all the responses Necun could have expected, good or ill, dismissal was not the worst. It just hurt her heart to hear.
“But yes. I do trust you.” Nickolas continued, causing Necun's hopes to rise. “You've given me no reason not to...and I think I love you as well. Hardly a surprise given how dashing you've been. But more to the point I didn't see any pity in your eyes. You've kept to your oath, more than to the letter. Thank you Necun.”
A soft kiss touched just under Necun's neckline. If the Hunter wasn't already frozen from the confession of love she would have felt a shock up her spine.
“I love you too.” she replied, tasting the words as they left her mouth.
She kissed him back, on the crown of his head, careful not to tangle his hair in her tusks.
Nickolas hummed in contentment, and for a moment of perfection everything was alright with the world.
“Now go put on a robe.” Nickolas said suddenly, slapping Necun's side playfully. “Your body is distracting me with certain thoughts that I suspect we don't have time for. We should go check on what the clan is up to now that the assassins were drawn out. Also we need to check to see if they're even looking for the murderer separately now.”
Necun huffed even as her lover pulled back. She already missed the closeness between them. Despite her longing she knew he was right. Clan RazorRiver would need her during whatever crisis was stirred up last night.
But no one was kicking in the door looking for her yet, so Necun expected she had at least sometime before she needed to check in.
Time enough to ensure her bond was at least stable, if not fully alright.