Private Tales For King and Country

[Faulkin]

"Son of a..."

Alwin pulled hard on the reigns of his horse, rearing it around and bolting off in the direction of the screams. But... there was something about it. He knew those voices. And they weren't the hollers of the battle hardened soldiers they came from.

---

Riding over a small hill, they saw well enough where the camp lay. And in its place was a great blaze. And there before it, he could see figures moving... fighting. Drawing closer with ever moment, he soon realized that they were not the first ones to return to camp. Tor and his party had returned, and it looked as though when they did they had found their unwelcome company lingering.

Though all of this, the ruined camp, the uncertain fates, this all at first filled his heart with dismay, with a deep breath he drew in his confidence and one thought crossed his mind.

For the Captain.

For Yvaine.
​

He drew out his sword, holding it high, hollering out to the men and women riding alongside he and Olwynn.

"To the Captain!"

And behind him they called out together, "to the Captain!"

---

Tor swung his hammer down with a frantic urgency he'd never before known. Having come upon the camp in a ruined blaze, surrounded by the demons, and no sign of the Captain or Yvaine...

He'd gone into a frenzy.

He'd become so desperate that all sense seemed to leave him, try as he might to maintain it. But with the oaths given to men, some now dead and gone, pulling at his heart with every thundering beat, there was only one answer that would sate this immeasurable need in him. Though it was, to everyone's relief whether they realize it or not, that when Alwin, Olwynn and the rest of their party charged in and joined the fray, this desperation in him lessened some.

"Alwin," he called out as the young swordsman rode past with Olwynn at his side, "no sign of her!"

---

Yvaine ​

 

[Yvaine]

Olwynn's heart raced, her pulse hammering in her ears as she heard Tor's words. The panic surged through her veins like wildfire, igniting her desperation. Yvaine was supposed to be under her protection, a guiding light on a path fraught with darkness, and now she was missing, swallowed by the chaos of the camp.

"No sign of her!" Tor's voice echoed in her mind, and without a second thought, Olwynn slipped from her saddle, landing gracefully on the scorched ground. Her eyes quickly scanned the little battlefield that had been their camp, searching the floor, the scattered bodies both friend and monstrous foe. The flames danced around her, and she felt their heat, their energy calling to her.

Drawing her twin blades, she moved with practiced ease, her steps deliberate and purposeful. The hellhound beasts, monstrous black, furless dogs with three heads and red eyes, advanced toward her, their razor-sharp teeth gleaming menacingly. Olwynn's breath hitched for a moment, but she steeled herself, focusing on the task at hand.

The first hellhound lunged, its middle head snapping at her with vicious intent. She sidestepped, her blade slicing through the air with precision, striking the beast's flank. The hellhound yelped in pain, but it was far from defeated. The other two heads snarled, their eyes burning with rage.

The second beast charged, its powerful legs propelling it forward. Olwynn spun gracefully, her blades a blur as they met the creature's attack. She slashed at its legs, forcing it to stumble, and with a swift upward strike, she drove one of her blades into its chest. The beast howled, a guttural sound that reverberated down her spine, but she didn't relent.

The third hound circled her, its three heads snapping and growling. Olwynn felt the heat of the flames growing more intense around her, and she used it to her advantage. Summoning her inner strength, she reached out with her free hand, drawing energy from the blaze. The fire responded to her call, swirling around her arm like a living entity.

With a fierce determination, Olwynn channeled the flames into her blades, their edges glowing with fiery intensity. The third hellhound lunged, and she met its attack head-on, her blazing weapons searing through its flesh. The creature recoiled, its cries of agony mixing with the crackling of the fire.

Olwynn pressed her advantage, her movements fluid and deadly. She struck with both blades, slicing through the hellhound's heads with a precision born of years of training. The beast fell, its lifeless body collapsing to the ground in a heap.

Breathing heavily, Olwynn glanced around the battlefield. The blaze continued to rage, but the immediate threat had been dealt with. She knew there were still more enemies to face, but her mind was consumed with finding Yvaine. The fear and desperation gnawed at her.

"Any sign of the Captain?" she shouted to the others, her voice filled with urgency as she tore her way through the camp, searching frantically. "Yvaine?!"

Dead faces stared up at her, people she had come to know, had shared meals and stories with, but none were the faces of Yvaine or Faulkin. Perhaps they fled, she thought, but the notion quickly died as her gaze caught the glint of silver in the grass.

Olwynn sheathed a blade and knelt to lift the chain into her palm, staring down at the crystal carved into the shape of a star, and she swore under her breath.

"They have her."

 

[Faulkin]

Lyddglesta - Northeastern Sheketh

While they were arguably in the safest place they could possibly find in Sheketh, this city had quickly become the last place he wanted to be. Well, almost the last place, anything beat the hell out of that torture chamber that thing had kept them in for however long... or the Sheketh wilds. He didn't think they could have lasted any longer than they had out there, well at least he couldn't have.

If they'd only known that they walls they saw rising up as they crested one final hill weren't the walls of the bastion they were looking for.

---

Water splashed underfoot with each hurried step. The streets down here in the shallows were often flooded, especially with the incessant rain. He pulled his hood a little closer.

He, with a couple of others, made their way quickly through the narrow street. They didn't want to be seen by many others. And so they were quick to duck down an even narrower path between two tall buildings, this alley darker than most. But down through to the other side, into a small hovel of a dead end, they darted across the street and up a short set of steps into a place whose windows were covered.

Inside, Faulkin, an older man, and an elf shed themselves of their drenched overcoats, and hung them by the door. Then they entered further into what was once a very grand home. It was now refuge for those like these men, and Faulkin and Yvaine and many others, others who would be victims of the corruption in this dreary city - if not for those who'd had enough.

But getting into this city was the easy part...

"That was a little too close," said the man, whose name was Blaine, as he moved toward the fireplace. It was rather large, and around it several others were sat with warm drinks, and plenty left for them.

"At least," said the elf, "we managed to do what we set out to. When they go to move those prisoners, both gates will come sliding off."

As the other two gloated about their escapades, Faulkin quickly took up the search for Yvaine. But there were four stories of needy people, she could be anywhere.

---

Yvaine ​

 

[Yvaine]

Yvaine sat on the worn, wooden floor of the old manor house, surrounded by a small group of children who had taken refuge within its crumbling walls. The dim light of a single candle flickered, casting a soft glow that contrasted with the chilly damp of the room. She held a cold compress against the forehead of a fevered child.

Bruises marred Yvaine's body, the remnants of the torture she had endured echoing in the sharp twinges that shot through her with every movement. Her wounds were hastily wrapped, each bandage a reminder of the darkness she had faced. Yet in this moment, surrounded by the innocent faces of those she was determined to protect, she found a thread of strength.

“Now, close your eyes,” Yvaine said softly to the child in her arms, her voice gentle and soothing.

The other two children nestled closer, their wide eyes fixed on her, eager for comfort. Yvaine smiled, drawing on the warmth within her as she began to weave a tale, her voice a calming lullaby amidst the chaos that raged beyond these walls.

“Long ago, in a land of shimmering stars and sparkling rivers, there lived a brave little girl,” she started, the memories of her own childhood filling her with bittersweet warmth as she recalled her mother's stories. “She had a heart as bright as the sun and a spirit that could light up the darkest night.”

As she spoke, the children leaned closer, captivated by her words. She described the girl’s adventures, the friends she met along the way, and the magical creatures that helped her in her quests. Each word was a thread, weaving a tapestry of hope to shield them from the harsh reality outside.

“But even in the darkest times,” Yvaine continued, her voice steady despite the tremors in her heart, “the brave little girl knew she was never truly alone. The stars watched over her, lending her their light so that she could always find her way."

She paused, glancing down at the feverish child in her lap, feeling their soft breaths against her arm. The compress was growing warmer, but she refused to let go, focusing her energy on soothing them.

“Just like that little girl, you have the strength within you,” she said, looking into the eyes of the other children. “Even when the night feels long and the shadows are at their darkest, you have each other. Together, you can face anything.”

As she spoke, Yvaine felt the stirrings of her own courage rising. Each story she shared was a balm to her own wounds, a reminder that there was light even in the darkest places. With every word, she infused hope into their fragile hearts, determined to protect them from despair.

But in the back of her mind, worry gnawed at her. Where was Faulkin? She hated when he left. The fear of what lay outside this place pressed against her, mingling with the urgency of her need for him to return. She needed him to be safe; she needed to be with him.

Just then, the sound of footsteps echoed on the staircase, breaking through her thoughts. She looked up, holding her breath, hope flickering in her chest.

 

[Faulkin]

He'd heard her voice, her soothing tones. He'd know them anywhere. He followed them, soon hearing her words more clearly.

He stepped out from the dim light of the hall and into the chamber she'd rounded the children up into. His rough and tired features softened at the sight before him, and he smiled. He cast the children a quick glance, but he devoted his eyes to her.

He'd have reached for her, but she was in these moments playing a far more important role. He could wait.

"We were successful," he said instead, coming near and sitting close-by. And they had been. Totally. No one got seen, no one got hurt, and everyone got out - except for those already imprisoned. Some of those people were friends, captured so that himself and others were able to escape. But, as he had said, they'd seen to that.

"How is the little one," he asked, his eyes peering down at the youth she cradled in her lap.

He felt something, not quite a nervousness but it felt similar. But it brought him no anxiety, or sense of excitement - not exactly. Drawing in a deep breath and looking up at her again, he placed it.

It was pride. He felt proud.

---

Yvaine ​

 

[Yvaine]

Yvaine's breath hitched the moment he entered the room. Relief washed over her at the sight of him, and her shoulders relaxed, tension unwinding as her gaze took in his reassuring smile. He was safe; they’d all made it back. It was all she could do not to rush over and throw her arms around him, but the sleeping child in her arms kept her grounded in her role, her gentle presence needed here first.

She smiled as he sat close, the warmth of his nearness seeping into her as she answered, "She’s strong." Yvaine looked down at the little girl with tenderness, stroking her hair as her eyelids drooped sleepily. With a quiet touch, she shifted the girl from her lap, laying her on the blankets and tucking her in securely. The other children, huddled close, watched him with half-lidded eyes, barely awake as they drifted off one by one.

Rising to her feet, she turned toward him and reached for his hand, eyes filled with both gratitude and weariness. She managed a soft smile, but there was a sadness that lingered in her gaze as she looked back at the children, tiny breaths soft and even as they finally found peace in sleep.

"Children should not have to live in fear," she whispered, her voice barely carrying, as though the weight of her words was too much to lift. She leaned into him, allowing herself a brief moment of vulnerability as she rested her head against his shoulder. His steady presence grounded her, the strength he radiated offering her the hope she desperately needed.

"Thank you," she murmured, her fingers brushing lightly against his. "For bringing them back... for being here." The words were simple, but behind them was a depth of gratitude, a silent promise that she would hold on for as long as he was there with her.

 

[Faulkin]

It was hard to hide the relief in his breath as she drew into him. For as much of a comfort she silently proclaimed him to be, she was just the same for him. These moments, brief as they could be, took everything else away for that time.

It made the rest bearable.

"These people are resourceful, really I should be thanking them for bringing me back," he said with a smile, his hand brushing through her hair to tuck it behind her ear, "and they should be thanking you for tending to these little ones."

He knew they did.

He cast a final look to the children, now resting peacefully, and then tilted his head toward the door. Her work here was done, and he was hungry.

"Let's go get something to eat."

---

Yvaine ​

 

[Yvaine]

Yvaine took his hand, fingers intertwining with his as he led her down the dim hallway, past the soft flicker of candlelight and muffled voices, until they found a quiet corner with a makeshift table. The scent of warm broth and freshly baked bread hung in the air, a simple comfort amidst the chaos.

She settled into her seat across from him, tucking her shawl tightly around her shoulders, hiding the angry marks that marred her skin. The steam from her bowl curled into the air, and she blew gently on a spoonful of soup, eyes flicking up through her lashes to him. The sight of his face—still bearing the fading bruises and cuts—made her heart ache in a way she hadn’t yet found the words for. It was strange to sit like this, with the memory of pain still sharp in her mind, yet surrounded by the sounds of life moving forward, carrying on.

She turned her eyes back to her broth, avoiding the unspoken concern between them.

"She needs medicine," Yvaine said quietly, breaking the silence that hung between them. Her voice trembled slightly, betraying the weight of worry she still carried for the children and the people here, trapped by more than just city walls.

A moment passed before she looked up, meeting his eyes with a tired but determined expression. "They all do. We’re safe now, but... they aren’t."

The weariness in her voice was undeniable, but so was the fire that hadn’t been extinguished.

 

[Faulkin]

Though he did his best to ignore the obvious, it was clear that his mind was a plagued by the recent past as much as hers. In some ways, though he did not think of it was such, their current situation was a blessing. It helped him to focus on the now, and not let the sting of failure wrack through his mind each time he noticed the marks left upon her.

Even as they sat there with the soup, his eyes cast down into the bowl, his free hand tightened together a little at the mention of safety.

It was true, they were far, far safer now than they had been. But he also wondered how long it would be until the trials of this city had once again become the least of their problems. How long until they were found, if not by the ones they contended against now, but those who he knew still sought them. Still sought her.

He drew his spoon to his mouth, as casually as he could.

"It seems like everyone in this city is sick... if not in their heart, then in their body," he said, setting his spoon down he reached across the table to her, looking up from his bowl finally, "we will do everything we can, but I will not let anything happen to you again."

He'd barely mentioned what had happened, and in truth, his words now only fell out. He had never been one to avoid anything before, but he couldn't bear it. Not this.

His eyes tightened, his concern pasted plainly on his face, but he stifled any further words. She knew, she always knew. But here, like with his men, he felt the weight of his responsibility. The Captain. That's what they needed him to be, just like these people needed now, just like he had always been. But he was more than that now. As he looked into Yvaine's golden eyes, this he knew.

---

Yvaine ​

 

[Yvaine]

Yvaine’s golden eyes lifted to his face, studying the familiar contours that had become a map of her resilience. She could see the way the tension coiled in his jaw, the storm that still lingered in the blue of his eyes. Her hand, resting on his, squeezed gently—a gesture as steadying for her as it was meant to be for him. She drew in a slow breath, letting it soothe the ache that rose in her chest as she watched him.

It was a promise he shouldn’t make, one that only added to the burden he already carried. She knew how deeply he felt the weight of their suffering, the guilt he took upon himself as though it was his to bear alone.

“You didn’t let anything happen to me, my love,” she whispered, her voice warm, but firm. Her thumb traced soothing circles over his knuckles. “There are some things that are not within our control. We both chose to walk into this darkness. I am safe, we both are, and that is down to you.."

The sadness that settled in her smile was undeniable, but so was the unwavering strength behind it. She leaned closer, searching his eyes as if to convey everything words couldn’t. “You have given everything to protect us, to protect me. But we have to remember that we’re stronger together. You don’t have to carry this alone.”

Still, the path ahead was uncertain. The shadows of the past had not fully loosened their hold, and beyond the fragile safety of these walls, the city pulsed with corruption and danger. She glanced toward the window, the dim lights of Shekketh casting jagged shapes on the floor, then back to him.

"How many men and women here can fight?" she asked.

The room around them seemed quieter now, the makeshift shelter holding its breath as they shared that moment. Whatever trials lay beyond the door, whatever dangers awaited in the city’s twisted alleys, they would face them side by side. And in that promise, Yvaine hoped he could find some measure of peace.

 

[Faulkin]

They'd been over this before, several times now. But, for as much as she had assured him, he still could not accept it. Not all of anyway. He smiled at her, and nodded as he conceded that they were indeed stronger together, through anything. But in spite of all her truths, there was still one thing he could not accept.

The sounds of her pained voice in his mind. Echoing from far away, out of sight.

The sound of his chains pulling tight.

Powerless.
​

That had been his fault. He couldn't stop them, even though they'd managed to get away. But that was hardly his doing either.

Thankfully, her question roused him out of his quickly swirling thoughts, rescuing him for the despair that threatened to wash over him.

He gave his head a little shake, "very well? Just over a dozen. Well enough?..." he cast a short look over his shoulder as he contemplated a few more faces, and then said, "maybe thirty or more altogether, but..." he shook his head again, "these are good people. I trust them. I just don't know how much longer they can keep on doing this."

---

Yvaine ​

 

[Yvaine]

Yvaine's gaze softened as she listened to his words, her heart aching for the weight he still carried. She could see the strain in the way he spoke, the lingering guilt that had him questioning his every move. But she didn’t allow herself to dwell on the darkness in his eyes. Instead, she reached for his hand, her fingers tracing along the lines of his palm as she thought through their situation carefully.

The image of his own helplessness still haunted her, though she'd never show him how deeply it affected her. She could see it in the way he carried himself, in the way his shoulders tensed when he thought she wasn’t looking. The truth was, they had both felt that helplessness in their bones, but now... now it was a memory they had to leave behind, for their sake and for those they cared about.

As he spoke, she felt a surge of resolve—a quiet certainty that she could no longer wait for someone else to save them, no longer rely on the kindness of strangers for their freedom. They had to take action.

Her voice was calm but firm when she finally spoke. "We need to get everyone out of this city, Faulkin. All of them."

She met his eyes, her golden gaze unwavering, the fire within her rising. She paused, taking a breath to steady herself before continuing. "These people, these good people you trust, they’ve helped us... and now it’s our turn. We’ll help them escape, get them out of here before this city suffocates them."

Her voice dropped a little, the weight of the plan beginning to settle in. "We can’t let them keep living like this, trapped in their own fear, in this crumbling city, sick and half starved. They deserve better.."

 

[Faulkin]

Though he felt as she did, he felt this want to help them, but he was loss as to what more they could do. But still, if what they'd been told were true, then this little venture they'd just taken was one of the only times these people had ever struck back. The releasing of a handful of prisoners may have seemed a meager rebuttal in the bigger picture, but from where they stood it was a promising step forward. For some, maybe.

His eyes fell.

These were not the soldiers he was used to leading - soldiers that for all he knew had fallen under his command. Surely those who had remained at camp with them...

He offered her a weak smile, "we'll... think of something," he said quietly, "but for now we should get some rest."

Finishing what was left of their soup, Faulkin led her from there and up to the chambers they'd been afforded. It wasn't much, a far cry from the grandeur of their stay with Itae, but at least it was private. As he entered in, he went to the window and looked out over the dark street below. With a bit of a huff, and a spark of determination, he decided they would think of something.

He moved to shed himself of his shirt, finding it troublesome even to shrug it off his shoulders as a driving ache settled into him, the adrenaline having faded from his endeavours in the streets.

"Those damn beasts," he breathed, making the first most casual mention of their hardships since they'd occurred, "could you..."

---

Yvaine ​

 

[Yvaine]

Yvaine's heart tightened as she watched Faulkin struggle with his shirt, the weariness and pain in his movements pulling at her. She could feel the familiar ache of helplessness rise in her chest, the weight of the things they’d been through, the wounds they still carried, both visible and hidden.

Without a word, she moved to him. Her hands were gentle as she slid the shirt off, careful to avoid causing him further discomfort. As it came free, her breath caught in her throat at the sight of his healing injuries—bruises, cuts, marks of their struggle. Each one seemed like a fresh wound in her heart.

Her eyes lingered on the marks for a moment longer than she intended, the pain in her chest threatening to overwhelm her. But she swallowed it down, determined to be strong for him, just as he had always been for her.

With a soft sigh, Yvaine reached up, her fingertips brushing over one of the bruises on his shoulder. Then, as though compelled by some deep instinct, she pressed a kiss to the tender skin, her lips barely grazing the injury. The gentle touch was a promise, a way of saying all the words her heart couldn’t quite form.

One by one, she kissed his wounds, her lips lingering on each mark as if she could erase the pain with her love. Her kisses were quiet, soft, an offering of solace in the silence between them.

She could feel the tears welling in her eyes, but she blinked them away, focusing on him. She wanted to make it better, wanted to take the pain away, but she knew it was impossible. All she could do was be here, with him, in this moment.

When she finally pulled back, she met his gaze, her golden eyes filled with a quiet intensity, a depth of emotion that only he could understand.

"What do you need, Faulkin? How can I help you now?" she whispered.

 

[Faulkin]

He hid the pain in his breath, but whatever pain came was quickly soothed beneath the warmth of her hands on him, her gentle lips. The pain gave way to relief in a sigh, and he turned to her to meet her gaze for a but a moment.

Her whisper was answered with a kiss, him stepping closer and wrapping his arm around her. Placing his hand on her cheek.

He withdrew just enough for his own whisper now, "only you, here with me."

Brushing down her neck, pressing against her chest, his hand found her skin. He breathed her name against her lips before pressing against them again...

---

Yvaine ​

 

[Yvaine]

Yvaine felt her breath hitch as Faulkin drew her closer, the weight of the world falling away with the warmth of his touch. His kiss was soft, tender, yet it carried all the unspoken emotions neither of them had been able to voice. She melted into him, her fingers curling against his chest as she leaned into his embrace, her body answering his silent need with her own.

Her name, breathed against her lips, sent a shiver through her. It was not just a name—it was a vow, a prayer, a reminder that she was his safe haven, just as he was hers. Her hands slid upward, framing his face as she kissed him back, her lips soft and searching, a quiet plea for the comfort only he could give.

As his hand brushed her skin, Yvaine tilted her head, her golden eyes fluttering shut. She could feel his heartbeat, strong and steady beneath her touch, and the sound of her own seemed to echo in time with his. She whispered his name in return, her voice trembling with the weight of her love, her trust, and her longing.

The room grew quieter, the distant sounds of the city fading into the background as they lost themselves in each other. Every touch, every kiss, was deliberate, unhurried, as if they had all the time in the world. Yvaine’s fingers traced the scars on his back, not with pity, but reverence, grounding him in the present, in her, in the moment that was theirs alone.

The candlelight flickered, casting soft shadows across the room as they moved together, slow and tender. There was no urgency, no desperation, only the steady rhythm of their shared breath, their whispered words, their joined hearts.

And as they sank into the quiet intimacy of their love, the weight of the past seemed, for a time, to fade into nothing.

 

[Faulkin]

I love you.​

In the midst of they two, the words could fall like streams of water out a fountain overfull. Every look, every touch - they'd already said them a thousand times, all without a mention. But not a single breath went wasted, quiet in his ear.

---

He woke sometime before dawn, eyes slowly open with more ease than he'd known for some time. He cast a lazy glance toward the window, seeing only the gloom of twilight in Shekketh in the dim amber of the lanterns on the street. He drew in a long breath, and turned his head to her. With her back to him he could see, even now, so clearly the scars Yvaine would come to bear for likely her whole life.

As his hand reached out to her, setting so softly against her, he dwelt on this.

Her whole life...

As he looked upon her, still peacefully asleep, he looked at each mark upon her closely, as he always did. Often the sight of them droned at his heart with a gnawing ache, pain of regret. Failure. But, here with her now, so silent and alone, so far away from everything else around them and so far away from everything they'd known, all he could feel was peace. Even these marks upon her, every wound, every hurt, all of it was for him to help mend without sorrow. She didn't need his regret. Only his love... and it was hers.

But, if there were to be only one remorse, then only.. he wished-

In these lands, even in the lasting haze, when the the sun broke the horizon it was clear enough. His eyes slowly shut as a long sigh escaped him; the defeat of knowing some wishes simply can't come true. Even the gods would have the sun rise despite any favour gained. So he pulled himself close to her, holding the moment for as long as he could, even if it couldn't last forever.

---

Yvaine ​

 

[Yvaine]

Even in the shadow of Shekketh’s despair, where the air carried the weight of sorrow and the streets whispered of pain, Faulkin made it possible for her to sleep so peacefully.

Her dream unfolded in a serene glade, where the world felt untouched and eternal. The grass beneath her feet was soft, damp with morning dew, and the air carried the fresh, earthy scent of rain that had passed during the night. Overhead, the sky was a delicate watercolour of lavender and gold, as if the sun and stars had agreed to share the heavens.

Yvaine sat by the crystal-clear stream, her hand trailing in the cool water, a soft, joyous laugh echoed through the air. She turned, her golden eyes widening in surprise and warmth, as a small figure darted from behind the towering trees. A child—their child.

The boy couldn’t have been older than five, with tousled hair that caught the light like Faulkin’s and eyes that mirrored her own golden hue. He was barefoot, his cheeks flushed with happiness, clutching a bundle of wildflowers in his tiny hands. His laughter bubbled like the stream as he ran toward them.

“Mama! Papa!” the child called, his voice sweet and clear, filling the glade with life.

Faulkin, who had been kneeling beside her, rose and opened his arms wide. The boy barreled into him, giggling, and Faulkin swung him up effortlessly, spinning him in the air. The child squealed with delight, his wildflowers scattering like confetti in the gentle breeze. Yvaine’s heart swelled as she watched them, the scene so pure it felt like the very essence of joy.

“Careful,” Yvaine said with a soft laugh, though her smile betrayed no real concern. She reached out as Faulkin set the boy down, and the child ran to her, wrapping his small arms around her waist. “Look what I found!” he exclaimed, holding up a single daisy he’d managed to keep intact. “For you, Mama.”

Yvaine knelt, her fingers brushing through his soft hair as she accepted the daisy. “It’s beautiful,” she murmured, tucking the flower into her hair. “Thank you, my sweet boy.”

The three of them sat together by the stream, the boy chattering excitedly about the butterflies he’d seen and the games he wanted to play. Faulkin leaned back on one hand, the other resting protectively on the boy’s shoulder, his gaze flickering between Yvaine and their son with an expression of quiet contentment.

For a moment, Yvaine allowed herself to believe this was real—their family, whole and safe, surrounded by a world untouched by pain or fear. As the boy leaned against her, his small hand resting in hers, she closed her eyes and let the peace of the dream wash over her.

When she opened them again, it was to the glow of the early morning light filtering into their room. Her heart ached softly, but not with sorrow—with a longing that carried the whisper of hope.

Yvaine stirred at the soft brush of his hand against her skin, her breath hitching. For a moment, she hovered in the space between sleep and wakefulness, caught in the delicate tranquility of his presence. His touch was so careful, so reverent, that it nearly coaxed her back into dreams, but the weight of his arm and the steady beat of his heart grounded her.

Her eyes fluttered open, golden irises catching the faintest glimmer of the low lantern light. She shifted slightly, her back still to him, her fingers moving to rest over his hand on her side. Her voice was soft, hushed in the quiet of the early morning.

“You’re awake,” she whispered, a hint of sleep lacing her tone. She let her thumb trace slow circles over his knuckles, the simple gesture speaking of her affection.

When he didn’t answer right away, his silence spoke volumes. Yvaine turned her head just enough to glance over her shoulder at him, catching the faint outline of his features in the dim light. She didn’t need to see his face fully to sense the depth of his thoughts.

“You’re thinking again,” she murmured, a gentle tease softening her words. She shifted to face him, pulling close against his chest. Her hand settled over the steady beat of his heart, the rise and fall of his breath beneath grounding her in the present, yet her thoughts lingered on the dream.

The image of the child’s laughter—how he looked so like Faulkin, the way his small hand had felt in hers—was so vivid it almost felt like a memory. She considered sharing with him what she'd seen, though she faltered, fearing that it would only weigh him down with longing for something they weren’t sure they could have. That it might burden him with another potentially impossible dream to chase when their reality was already so fragile.

She hoped it could be real. That it would be real..

 

[Faulkin]

“You’re awake,” she whispered...
​

No, he didn't reply. Lying there with her in his arms, he could not tear himself away from the bliss of the moment. Not yet. Her quiet voice was but a melody to be laced together with the warmth of her against him, the comfort in their joined breaths.

“You’re thinking again,” she murmured...
​

She turned to him, and he pressed his lips against her head just following after his fingers, running through her hair.

"Of course," he said warmly, his lips hardly lifted away from her. He placed another kiss, before wrapping his arms around her more tightly. If he could have his way he'd have clung to her like that for the rest of the morning, on into the day. But then, he supposed, he'd rob himself of watching her leave their bed...

A soft, and far too contented sigh left him, and then teased her back in his own way, "you often leave me with quite a bit to think about..."

Her eyes peering into his.

Her body pressed against him.

He hummed, realizing only now that he had been smiling since... who knew. Try as he might, he couldn't prevent the small chuckle that shook him, the toothy grin that found his lips, the nuzzling of his nose against her.

Nope. He wasn't going to be the first one out of bed this morning.

---

Yvaine ​

 

[Yvaine]

His warmth, the way his lips brushed her hair, the way his fingers lingered as though memorising her—it all made her chest ache in the most beautiful way.

His teasing words drew a soft laugh from her, barely more than a whisper. She reached up, her fingertips tracing the line of his jaw, feeling the faint roughness of stubble beneath her touch. His grin was infectious, a boyish charm lighting up his face in a way that made her stomach flutter. It always had.

She studied him then, her golden eyes drinking him in. The way the dim light softened his features, the way his blonde hair fell messily across his forehead, the way his smile lit something deep in his eyes that was just for her.

Yvaine savoured every bit of him—his strength, his tenderness, the way he always seemed to be just as captivated by her as she was by him. Her fingers moved to brush back the errant strands of his hair, her touch slow and deliberate, as though to lock this moment away in her heart forever.

“You are..” she said, her voice low and trembling slightly under the weight of her emotions. The world beyond these walls was chaos and pain, uncertainty and loss, but here, in his arms, it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except him. "Everything that is good in this world.." she whispered.

Her hand slid to rest against his chest, over the steady thrum of his heart. “You make me forget,” she murmured, her voice quieter now. “Forget everything terrible. Everything that’s ever hurt. Just being here with you… Nothing else exists.”

She leaned in, her lips brushing his in the softest of kisses, lingering, savouring. “I would stay right here with you, even in this hideous city.." she laughed under her breath. Sadly, this story was not solely about them. One day, it will be, she vowed to herself.

Her golden eyes met his again, warm, calm.

Her arms wrapped around him, and she held him tightly, as though afraid the moment might slip away. For once, she allowed herself to believe that maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe they could have this, even if only for now.

It was another half hour before she finally relented, untangling herself from his arms with a reluctance that mirrored his own. A soft smirk played on her lips at the unmistakable glint of triumph in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of his small victory. She rose gracefully, her chin high and her bare feet padding softly against the floor as she crossed the room to fetch her clothes, the cascade of her chestnut hair tumbling down her back like a curtain of silk, catching the gentle morning light. Every movement was unhurried, as though she too wished to stretch the moment, to linger in the little unreality they had created.

"I think.. We should get them ready to leave.." she looked over her shoulder at him as she stepped into her leggings. "If we have a path and understand the patrols, we could get them out when night falls.. Do you think it's possible?" she asked, and pulled on her shirt. His shirt.

 

[Faulkin]

“I would stay right here with you, even in this hideous city.."
​

So would he, if she asked him to. He'd set his sword down right now, leave everything behind. Be he couldn't do that, could he? She couldn't. Maybe one day they'd learn to live with joy, but the memory would always remain. As happy as he knew they could both be, there would forever be that lingering guilt, painting a black mark across every smile.

Watching her leave from his side, feeling her warmth leave, it left him wanting. No amount of time would ever be enough. He splayed himself out across the bed where she had been laying, and watched with a glimmer in his eye as she moved like a gentle breeze.

What? Oh... yes, ready to leave. Fighting the grin down, he rolled onto his back again and then propped himself up on his palms. He turned to look out the window.

"They seem to already know the patrols well enough, I saw that yesterday. I think we only need-" turning back to her, he paused and lifted an eyebrow at her, a smirk slowly following, "-some supplies."

He chuckled, and pulled himself out of the bed with an all too renewed vigor. He was upon her with a step of towering confidence, his arms around her before she had a chance to even reach for a button. With a kiss on her cheek, and an affectionate whisper, he promised.

"We'll get them out of here, no matter what."

---

Yvaine ​

 

[Yvaine]

Yvaine froze for a moment as his arms encircled her, caught off guard by the sudden energy in his step. The warmth of his kiss lingered on her cheek as his whispered promise settled over her. She tilted her head back slightly to look up at him, her golden eyes softening, searching his as though trying to etch the every detail of his face into her very soul.

She smiled softly, her hand rising to brush against his cheek. “I trust you,” she said quietly, her voice filled with both tenderness and determination. “I always do.”

Leaning into him, she let herself linger in his embrace for a moment longer, savouring the strength he offered, the steady reassurance that they could overcome this—together. She rested her head against his shoulder, closing her eyes briefly.

“I should check on the little ones..” she sighed, her brow furrowing slightly as she paused. "The others are alright, aren't they? We'll find them again..." she asked quietly, her fingers lacing with his.

 

[Faulkin]

He smiled, and nodded. The children had grown so fond of Yvaine, her nurturing coming so naturally. Of course she should check on them. As for the others...

"They'll be fine."

---

It still managed to trick him here and there, the ash. It fell so beautifully like snow, and rested so neatly upon the ground. It cast a dreary grey over the landscape, and made a haze of the surround. As day came, everything was a fog, and in the night, only the glow of their fires stayed the horrors in the darkness - the horrors that had chased them, ever since that night. Along the way they'd made some friends, and along the way they'd lost some. How long it had been since the Captain and Yvaine had been kidnapped was hard to say, but it was at least a couple of months now.

And all that time had led them here, into the decrepit ruins of an old stone village, in a valley just south of the northern port city.

Tor looked out from the window, peering into the dark.

He could see the reds of eyes peering back.

In the center of a large, ruined cathedral, a fire crackled and popped, and several of the men were gathered around. Over at the doorway were a number of others, guarding their bastion well. A pair of corridors led back behind the church's chapel, where they had set up cots and made rooms for themselves. Alwin was somewhere back there... hiding away.

Tor turned back in and approached the fire, looking to Olwynn, saying, "you're sure your elf... mojo can't give us a little more direction?"

---

Yvaine ​

 

[Yvaine]

Olwynn sat by the fire, her sharp eyes reflecting the flickering flames. Her expression was somber, her demeanour quiet, and distant. She hadn't spoken much in the last few days, too preoccupied with the unspoken worry that weighed on all of them.

She looked up from the flames, her brow furrowed, and met Tor’s gaze. “I’ve been trying, Tor,” she said quietly, the edge of frustration in her voice. “The ley lines around here are... tangled, like someone’s been messing with them. Magic doesn’t work like it should in this place. It’s as if the land itself is grieving, pulling itself away from everything it once knew.”

She shook her head, exhaling slowly. “I can feel traces of power, yes, but it’s faint, unreliable. I can’t see much beyond the fog of it. And trust me, I would do anything for a clear path, anything to find them. But we’re not the only ones out here..” she frowned, casting a dark look toward the window..

“We’ve already been pushing our luck by staying this long,” she added, her voice barely above a whisper, as if the night itself might overhear them. “And I’d rather not risk losing any more of us. We’ve already lost so much.”

Even Olwynn was not immune to the creeping sense of helplessness that had settled over the group. They were all feeling it now—waiting, wondering if they were chasing a ghost or if there was still hope of finding Yvaine and the Captain.

“We need something more solid,” she murmured, drawing her knees closer to her chest, "or someone who knows this land better than we do." she said, dragging a hand over her face. "We need to move."

---

"She won't wake..." Yvaine's voice trembled, her gaze flicking from the child's feverish face to Faulkin's, desperate for something—anything—to make this better. The small body in her arms was so limp, so cold, despite the heat of the fever that burned her skin. Yvaine's pulse quickened, fear flooding her chest as the child’s shallow breaths came in uneven, rattling gasps.

"We need to find a healer," she frowned. Her eyes didn’t leave the child’s face, the little girl too pale, too still. "We need to move."

 

[Faulkin]

Tinúviel only nodded along as the two conversed. His magics were much different from Olwynn's. They brought about protection and might, but they could do little to help them in their search. And if her elven senses alone could do no better, then certainly neither could his.

"We need to move."

"I see only one path for us now, if we are to survive much longer..."

---

"We need to move."

Footsteps down the hall. Hurried down the stairs. The front door opened with a crash.

With the child in his arms Faulkin hurried into the street, led by Blaine - one of the men who had accompanied him yesterday - and followed closely by Yvaine. They hurried through the rain, heading just across the street to a much smaller dwelling. There dwelt a man who was sympathetic to the people who had called the abandoned mansion home, being no stranger to the mishaps the city's governor was directly responsible for. And even if he were not, when the door swung open, the man within needed only see the look on Blaine's face and the child in Faulkin's arms.

He was a gruff looking man, tall and wide. He had a stubbled jaw, salt and pepper hair, and a long wooden pipe hung from his lip.

"Cyrian, this child, she..."

He stepped forward, towering over and gesturing for Faulkin to lay her on the table just there. He did so, and took a few steps back as this Cyrian came near. He cast Faulkin a glance, and Yvaine too, the grey blues of his eyes conveying an understanding, and then he looked the child over with a somewhat detached leisure.

"Leave her with me," he said, and then looked to Yvaine, "but you stay. For the girl."

---

Yvaine ​