#c:Saskia

[reefinanddrinkin]

@resplendentdare

One of Nick's day jobs was working in Star Court Mall. He was coming from one of the restraunts. He mainly had jobs in the food service. Since his first job ever was bussing, and then learning how take orders as a waiter. "Hey, you work in the record store right?" He'd seen her around stocking records. When he stopped by to get his little brother the new Alphaville album for his birthday. "Can I sit?" He asked, meandering in the cafeteria.

[roguexpogue]

@resplendentdare liked for a starter

JJ was on a smoke break. He got a temporary job in the mall at some Koney Island diner. It was something for now to make money, and stay away from his old man. In his head he thought of it as a temp job because he normally got himself fired. Down the the line. "Hey." he said, realizing she must come here too on breaks.

[farplane]

DAY 7: PAWN

The high summer sun blistered down upon the palace grounds, and Saskia hoped beyond hope that the Censor would not feel her sweating through the stiff fabric of her gown when next he found some pretense to touch the small of her back. The royal terraces were crawling with legionaries in red and black and white-robed dignitaries, all arranged in perfect lines; the soldiers faceless under their helms, like puppets awaiting the tug of command on their strings. 

Saskia had chosen for her own armour a somber dress in the current Nhalmascan style—a gift from the Censor himself—far better suited for the dreary Ilsabardian mountain climes than the dry highland summer. Miserably, she hoped her mother would never see what imperial taste had wrought upon her homeland’s traditional fashions.

She was not alone in wishing the assembly would end before it had even begun. Behind her, a bureaucrat complained of the heat and openly longed for home; his neighbour muttered back snidely that “we wouldn’t have gotten this horrid little posting if not for your indiscretions with Lord Nerva’s favourite, Magnus,” which Saskia committed to memory in case it proved useful. She lifted a hand to her forehead under the pretense of shielding her eyes from the sun as she looked about the terrace, and surreptitiously wiped sweat from her shining brow.

“I hope you’re not feeling faint, my dear,” said goe Tullius; how artfully he spun himself a fable to justify his steadying hand on her back.

“Thank you, Censor. It is quite hot today.”

“Indeed. I have been invited to the palace by the viceroy’s entourage after this little display; you should join me for refreshments. I shall see to your every need.”

He had worn his most expensive cologne today, likely for her benefit; Saskia could smell the notes of vetiver on the breeze. She smiled, as she always did.

“You are too kind. I wish I could accept, but surely the viceroy—”

“Would be a fool not to wish to be graced by your presence. You have been a staunch ally to his rule; a provincial flower grown beautiful under His Radiance’s sun.” A traitor and a liar and a seductress. A Resistance spy. “I must insist, for your company is the sweetest of my days in these uncivilized lands.”

“Then I would fain accept, my lord.”

The Censor nodded, showing his most handsome smile, and tucked her hand into the crook of his arm with a pat that was almost paternal. Heat drummed inside Saskia’s ears, but she forced herself into closer contact with him.

“Ah. At last,” he said as the viceroy’s airship landed.

The commander of the XIVth Legion came shadowed not only by his tribuni, but by soldiers in uniforms Saskia had never seen before. Imperial black plate showed on their torsos and arms, but the arrangement was piecemeal, reminiscent of a mercenary’s mismatched armour; the colourful sashes and fabrics they wore as accents reminded her of the Arroways, which brought on a sickening lurch of her stomach. They were not helmed like imperial soldiers; their heads were covered by beautifully adorned turbans, and their faces hidden by horrid, beaklike masks. Ala Mhigan colours and fabrics corrupted by imperial austerity.

She scarcely heard the specific words with which the viceroy introduced his new force, comprised entirely of young Ala Mhigans who had traded service for citizenship. A fresh sort of panic underlay her shaken state: she was meant to listen, not to lose her cool like some frightful little novice.

The commander of this new Crania Lupi was just a slip of a girl, but her gaze was cold as stone.

“Van Baelsar is certainly eager to make us forget his little debacle with the Agrius,” said goe Tullius amusedly in her ear. Did he feel her shiver? “A bit late on the draw, perhaps, but cleverly done nonetheless. Obedience comes easier when loyalty is instilled from a young age; and what good is insurgency when one’s children wield His Radiance’s authority? They will only break themselves.”

Saskia simpered and watched the young commander and extinguished Morgana’s memory from her mind every time it welled at the sight of the girl’s hard eyes. She envisioned, distantly, punching holes with the blade of Neesa’s needle into the Censor.

When she freed herself come eveningtide, she went straight for the theatre. She opened the trap door underneath the stage with shaking fingers and descended into the hidden room that housed the Palm door, sat down on the bed, and hugged the pillow tight to her chest until it puffed into pockets of resistance. With her right hand, she slowly drove the needle into the pillow, over and over again, until she was covered in feathers.

[bornofbloodandwater]

“ i’m gonna marry you one day. ” - @sunbentsky​ from Saskia! 

Turning her head in shock, her hands pulling back from the stream as though it suddenly sears at her fingertips “Me? Saskia...” Bronze hair rippling about her in soft waves of surprise. They’d stopped along the river to rest, sit together a while in the quiet of the wilds before continuing on. Xiomara catching herself in a beam of light passing through the trees above, face tilted up to its warmth. The blonde standing off by their horses as Xiomara fills their water-skins, the statement so unremarkable in tone that the siren had barely registered it at all. 

               Struck without words. Not something that Xiomara experiences very often. 

               It does not last long. She was struck silent, not dead.

Corking the skins and hooking them over the saddle of her mare as she approaches her darling, no rush, in fact a reverence in her movement “I-... I will confess, I did not think you would ever take to the idea of marriage, especially seeing as you would be expected to marry highly. You do know that I would stay on here as your consort if you asked. I adore you, after all, Beloved, I could not deny you anything.” Small hands cupping Saskia’s cheeks thumbs brushing cheekbones, firm and sure but cherishing. 

             “And I suppose I should have known you’d never follow their conventions.”

She’d do anything for the woman between her palms. Even so far as to living somewhere so inhospitable to her needs, it did not matter, not with her Sun here before her. Every kiss, no matter if gentle or passionate, a monument to who they are as one. Who they will be as one.

Lying by her love, the dawn struggles over the horizon, the room they share bluing carelessly. Xiomara has been awake for near an hour. Eyes on the quietly dozing face beside her. She dusts a soft kiss to the bare skin of Saskia’s shoulder and stands, moving to her lover’s side of the bed, kneeling on the freezing flagstones. Hands folded in her lap, resting on her heels as though in prayer. No ceremony, no grand announcement, no watching eyes.

               “Saesenthessis.” Tenderly taking the hand of her restful lover, searing compared to the rapidly chilling touch of the siren. Pressing kisses, eyes closed, to each knuckle of her darling’s calloused hand. Brushing aside the wildness of sleep ruffled hair from her way, laying Saskia’s palm flat over her heart, that beats and soars only for her.

Voice sensitive and brushed with longing.

         “Will you grant me the pleasure of allowing me to call you my family, my wife?”

Lifting from the floor just beneath their bed a bundle of red silk. Unwrapped from its delicate caress, a cuff much the same as the one eternally on Xiomara’s arm. Gold, only about an inch thick, symmetrical inlay on either side of the red silk wrapped centre. First, a relief of their weapons crossed for when they first met and next a siren with arms extended towards a dragon in flight, waves and branches of birch brushing the very edges.

Doe eyes misting with tears. The siren knows the Queen had stated to marry her, but the act in and of itself, to bind to each other forever, when her life has been so plagued by grief and loss, feels like laying her beating heat upon her palms for the other to measure. Hands extended in trust and devotion. The most momentous act she has ever committed to. An end to her suffering? Or a promise of more? It does not matter, even to suffer for her love would be an honour.

               “Allow me to adore you forever, Beloved, my Sun, my Saskia.”

[bellasdragons]

HEY EVERYONE LOOK AT MY GIRL 😍💕💕💕💕

something fun for Saskia! 

she belong to @bellasdragons

[regulusplots]

◎ osaskia

send ‘◎’ and i’ll generate a number from 1-10 for a situation where my muse blurts out ‘i love you’ to your muse.  +  4. while half asleep.

Aquela era a primeira vez em que Saskia passava do horário  no apartamento de Orion, todo o cuidado dele em fechar as janelas em que poucos e fracos raios de sol entravam no ambiente e a reação dele ao ver ela vestida com sua camisa, tudo aquilo fazia com que a vampira se sentisse completamente aquecida por dentro. Um sorriso se formou nos lábios ao que ele se aproximou da cama novamente e ela não perdeu tempo, logo o puxando para que deitasse com ela.A morena só deixou que ele se ajeitasse para deitar bem próxima a ele, a cabeça foi delicadamente apoiada sobre o peito ele, enquanto uma de suas mãos se encontrava ao redor da cintura do mais alto e suas pernas emaranhadas. Ela praticamente queria que seus corpos fundissem e se tornassem um só, sem se importar com a nudez do lobisomem, apenas querendo ficar ainda mais próxima dele e aproveitar aquelas horas do dia que eles teriam a mais por terem perdido o horário durante a madrugada.Apesar de quer aproveitar, não demorou muito para que os olhos dela começassem a se fechar sozinhos, tudo isso graças aos carinhos que Orion fazia em suas costas e também ao cansaço que ela nem sabia que existia até então. Mas o fato de estar ali tão próxima ao namorado, aquela paz que há tantos séculos eles procuravam e que pareciam finalmente terem encontrado. A forma como o cheiro tão característico dele preenchia suas narinas, o calor dos corpos, o som das batidas do coração dele, tudo naquele cenário lhe trazia uma calma e lhe ajudava ainda mais em acreditar que ela amava Orion com todo o seu coração, que há muitos anos ela o havia perdido pra ele e que ela era grata por isso. E foi assim com os olhos fechados, quase entregue ao sono que Saskia confessou. “I love you, Orion. I love you so much.” A fala saiu num sussurro,mas que ela sabia que havia sido ouvido pelo lobisomem, logo depois deixando que o sono tomasse conta dela ainda com um pequeno sorriso no rosto e a certeza que aquele amor era recíproco.

[scout-matthews]

@callhersaskia​

I don’t want to be here, Scout practically sang in his head as he headed towards Church Street and his dinner with Saskia. He knew why he’d agreed to it, it was easier than trying to get her to leave, and he really didn’t want her hanging around his house and Briar. He knew that if he’d turned her down she would go to the ends of the earth to get what she wanted, it was who she was; she believed that she was entitled to certain things and if she was denied them, god help whoever got in her way. Still, he wished he was anywhere else but on his way to meet her. He wanted to see her as little as possible, she was a master of manipulation and convincing, she could sell ice to a polar bear if she wanted to; and it seemed like she still wanted him. 

He was purposely as he walked into the late, even though he was going along with what she wanted he wasn’t going to just bow to her will. He ran a hand through his hair as he had a tendency to do and had a glance around, not sure what to do next. 

[bornofbloodandwater]

ofvergen​  :  Saskia

@bornofbloodandwater gets a tiny thing!

Xiomara’s hair against the pillow curls around her head like a dark halo of the deep sea, and Saskia thinks this is how she should always be seen– an otherworldly divine among plush pillows, the mouth of a lover never far away. She presses her lips against the siren’s closed eyes, and with delicate, fragile touches, Saskia trails along her eyebrows, down her nose, her lips– only briefly there, intoxicating as Xiomara’s kisses might be– and finally across her cheekbones and the small scar there. “A stubborn one, my love?” Saskia asks against her lover’s skin, then pulls back a little to feel the pink line with her fingertip now. “Or perhaps one worthy of being remembered?”

It was rare for the siren to be so peaceful, in one of those deep dozes, only delicately aware of the lover by her side and nothing else in the world. If she was disturbed by anyone other than Saskia in this moment, they’d be dead faster than they they could suck in a breath of shock. Thoughts of violence even in her gentlest moments? What a crude little creature she could be. A mewl, sweet and natural escaping her throat at the sweetness in the kisses she is graced by. Slipping an arm beneath Saskia’s waist, fingertips 

The question welcome, it had been a number of years since that day but the memories were never easier to recount. The coming in a sigh of restful acceptance. A confession of thoughts she’s never been able to share. “It was I that was stubborn, Beloved. I suppose it was worth remembering, I was clipped fighting my sister’s killers. I’m not certain exactly the man that gave me the wound.” Turning her head to kiss the hand caressing her scar. Memories of loss softened by her adoration. “I was a storm. I mostly remember gazing at my own reflection and refusing to let the reminder go.”

[ronanexe]

@saskvas

“Hey, I’m sorry I’m late.” Ronan apologized, taking a seat next to the small blonde. “I couldn’t find my goddamn anatomy book.” He tossed said textbook onto the library table. “It was in the fridge. I must have been trying to study while drunk off my ass last night.” 

[reefinanddrinkin]

"Oh Thank God..." Nick trailed off. "I really don't know how these things work anymore." The last relationship he was in was a year ago. He had been more casual with girls a of late. He didn't feel he had the time it took to put the work that comes with having a girlfriend. That is if it got to that point with a girl. "That's definitely why you look familiar. Most customers i serve at the hideout are old dudes with fucked up marriages."

Saskia raised an eyebrow before barking out a laugh. "Oh sweetheart, I'm not asking you out on a date. I'm offering to get completely wasted with me, there's a difference." She didn't go out on dates. Not because she didn't have offers, she had plenty, but because nobody interested her enough and because she was more of a one night stand type of girl. "I think I've seen you at The Hideout a few times, you've probably even poured me a drink or two. Either way, I'll probably see you tonight," she winked.

[farplane]

DAY 31: [EXTRA CREDIT]

Saskia was bathing when Neesa stole into her flat.

The intrusions no longer scared her; for the sake of Saskia’s ever-fraying nerves and Neesa’s own safety, after Saskia had emerged from a doorway with a butcher’s knife in hand, she made a habit of announcing herself with short, hissing bursts between her lips, as though calling a cat.

“In here,” Saskia called in a worn voice like a blunted knife. She made an effort to smile when Neesa came in, but Neesa had a good eye for truth-finding and not even her lovely liar could dupe her. Not after so many moons spent in each other’s company.

But Neesa wasn’t such a stickler for truth that she would ruin her own visit so quickly by demanding honesty when Saskia would rather feign gladness at seeing her. She watched Saskia’s pretty fingers trace unseen patterns along the water’s surface, droplets glistening on the metal of her rings, and chose her approach.

“Feeling fancy,” she said, sitting down on the tiles beside the tub and bracing an arm on the edge. Saskia had picked some sweet-smelling bathing oils, herby and delicate: Neesa already wanted to press her nose to her skin and taste them from her body.

Saskia said nothing and leaned forward to hug her knees to her chest. And of course Neesa wanted to ask what weighed on her, but it would likely be imperial business, and she never wanted to hear unless she was listening with her lord’s ears. So she just pressed her cheek against her arm and trailed the fingers of her other hand down the warm, smooth line of Saskia’s spine.

“Would you like it if I joined you?”

The wet tip of one of Saskia’s loose black curls stuck to her cheek as she tilted her head and managed a small, real smile. “Wash the grime off first,” she said, and designated an ewer and washcloth beside the bath.

“No, I thought I might hop in with my shit-caked boots. Anything to toughen up my sweet topsider lass,” Neesa said, gladly stripping out of her clothes.

“I like my chances at making you softer better,” Saskia said, still smiling.

Neesa liked the presence of her eyes; she liked seeing the way Saskia tracked her movements like a student learning from a master, committing all her little habits to memory to either replicate or decode later. It made her feel naked in a way that wasn’t exactly common in the Undercity, which meant the novelty had a little less of danger to it. 

And the parts that did, because eyes weren’t always welcome down there—well, Neesa liked those, too. Danger was half the reason she got along so well with Wulfric.

But she certainly didn’t care to be thinking about the old man now. She wanted to watch Saskia watching her as she washed the Undercity from her skin, scrubbing at her arms and hands and letting water drip down the center of her chest. It was a show of mundanity, because she had never been all that good with sultriness; from what little Saskia had told her about that Mora of hers, now that she had given up on waiting for her to return, that was what Saskia liked in a woman. Plain honesty.

Saskia wasn’t all that charmed tonight, though. She watched her, and there was appreciation in her gaze for certain, but no hunger; no fire. Which was perfectly fine with Neesa—or it would be if Saskia just wasn’t in the mood for sex, rather than empty behind the eyes like she was now.

Neesa finished washing with a swipe of the washcloth for the sweat between her legs and tossed it aside. She lowered herself into the water, legs tangling with Saskia’s, and took just one moment for herself to enjoy the warmth embracing her body and the sweet smell rising from the water.

Then she shimmied closer to Saskia and put a hand on her knee, fingers gently pressing against the soft, giving skin behind it.

“Where are you?” she asked, catching Saskia’s eye with touch and voice.

She didn’t have to answer; and for a moment, she looked like she didn’t want to. In the end, though, Neesa was right in thinking she needed to.

“Rinomy’s,” she said, displeasure stretching her mouth into a thin line. “I went to see Gawain on my way back from the palace. There were Imps there—not to drink. Talking in that way they have of ‘just talking.’”

That was never good. “What did they want with him? He’s just a tavern keeper.”

“I don’t know what the official pretext was,” Saskia said wearily, because the pretext never really mattered. “When I got there, they were already at implied threats. Because, by their reckoning, if they aren’t drinking there and half the public houses in the district never got back up from the sacking, then it follows that he’s involved in treacherous business.” She swallowed and shook her head. “The things they said to him—of him…”

“They wanted to get a rise out of him,” Neesa finished grimly. Likely they’d wanted an excuse. “Thought he was an easy target.”

Saskia nodded and sniffled, though there were no tears in her eyes. From what Neesa knew of old Gawain, even at his age and with a missing leg, he would never be an easy target. One good punch was all it took for him to gain an advantage, and with the imperials, one good punch was always one wrong punch. In her fondness for Saskia, Neesa dreaded the rest of the story.

“I had to step in before he killed them or they killed him. I said he was a model peregrinus, that their superiors certainly enjoyed his hospitality, that he would sooner spit on the insurgents than serve them a single drink.” Now her voice began to shake, quiet and strangled in her throat. “Stars, the way he looked at me—like I had debased him.”

“He’s still breathing,” Neesa said, reaching for her hand. “And they don’t know about you and him up here and us down there helping each other out. All that matters.”

“I hate them, Neesa. I hate them all.”

It wasn’t just them; Neesa understood that. Every day, Saskia hated the words out of her own mouth and the role she played a little more. And some days it simply threatened to eat her whole.

Neesa reached for her, shifting their bodies so they were tucked together on the same side of the tub and she was cradling Saskia against her.

“When enough time’s passed, you’ll find me their names,” she said calmly—not a request, not a suggestion, but an inevitability. “And I’ll take care of it. They won’t fuck with our warriors again.”

That was a lord’s promise: the Palm would always make good sport of nameless imperials fated to die in the dark. 

[bornofbloodandwater]

@ofvergen​

An aesthetic for Saskia and Xiomara!!! Took longer than expected! Who knew it was so hard to find medieval and dragon related pngs hahaha

I hope you love it!

[regulusplots]

“Why don’t we stop pretending we’re not on a road to destruction?” - Orion

Saskia não sabia exatamente porque eles estavam discutindo e porque Orion havia levantado a voz, na verdade, eles costumavam falar sobre aquele assunto de uma maneira muito mais pacífica e geralmente muito mais esperançosa. Mas naquela vez, o lobisomem não havia concordado que eles iam dar um jeito e que tudo daria certo, e ela não o culpava por isso. Era difícil manter aquele otimismo o tempo todo, Saskia na maioria das vezes não pensava assim também, talvez nas primeiras vezes, mas depois de anos naquilo ela só conseguia pensar que nada havia mudado e que eles não tinham arrumado um jeito de serem livres e que a culpa de ambos estarem naquela situação era totalmente dela.Havia sido a vampira quem se aproximou de Orion, quando ele ainda era um escravo humano que tinha sido transferido para o coven. E alguma coisa nele havia chamado a sua atenção, não só o corte que sangrava em sua testa, algo a mais, algo que cresceu com o tempo e que fez com que ela criasse um instinto protetor e quisesse protegê-lo de tudo e de todos, além dessa ânsia de querer ele só para ela. E talvez tivesse sido extremamente egoísta da parte da morena se aproximar dele com tanto carinho quando era tudo que ele precisava e no fim foi a insistência dela que havia levado ambos para aquela estrada de destruição como o lobisomem havia apontado, fazendo com que o sentimento de culpa multiplicasse e ela podia sentir seu coração apertado. “Eu sei que a culpa de estarmos nessa é totalmente minha, eu assumo a culpa. E me desculpe se às vezes eu gosto de fingir que as coisas vão dar certo e que ambos vamos sobreviver, que em algum momento vamos encontrar uma solução pra isso tudo. E se isso for de fato uma estrada para a nossa destruição, bom, que seja. Eu estou disposta a lutar por isso, mesmo que meu destino seja a morte, quero fazer valer a pena e morrer por ter tentado do que desistir agora e me arrepender amargamente depois. Eu não estou disposta a abrir mão de nós, Orion. Independente se isso vai dar certo ou não.” Sua voz soava muito mais firme do que ela pretendia e por mais que estivesse se sentindo culpada e o pessimismo fosse mais forte que o otimismo, ela não deixou isso transparecer.

[bellasdragons]

*points excitedly*

LOOK IT'S A SASKIA 😍

wip

8)

[farplane]

DAY 28: BOW

The palace was still in disarray after the chaos of the last few bells; Saskia knew she would not have been able to stride in uninterrupted as she had otherwise. In any case, she had no desire to let herself be stopped by any of the Commander’s men—not after today. She was making straight for the infirmary, and no one would dissuade her from it.

Her anxiety and frustration only increased tenfold when she finally reached the right hallway—which should not, by rights, have already been familiar to her—and nearly marched straight into the wall that was Raubahn Aldynn himself.

Saskia stopped herself just short of colliding with him and briefly looked up, too proud to meet his eyes. “Commander,” she said coolly, in a tone Morgana would have been delighted to hear from her twenty years ago—perhaps not now that it was directed at her lover.

She made to walk on past him, but he stopped her with a hand on her arm. Her body’s first instinct was fear: a man of his bulk, of his martial fame, and her with nothing but Neesa’s needle in her boot; even with only one arm, the objective danger he posed was evident to every part of her that had survived the occupation. But quickly enough, fear gave way to renewed defiance; the contempt with which she looked up at him was enough to make him release her at once.

“The chirurgeons will allow no one inside,” Raubahn said in a calm voice that belied his distress. “Not even I.”

“Will she live?”

Almost imperceptibly, his jaw trembled; Saskia could feel the exhaustion coming off of him as though his aether had been made material, but she refused her natural impulse towards sympathy. “It’s too early to tell.”

“Well,” Saskia said, and found no other words she wanted to say to him. She was about to turn on her heel and blindly head back to the theatre and the comfort of Neesa’s arms when Raubahn spoke again.

“How did you know to come?” he asked—only to answer his own question. “Let me guess: your elusive Resistance contact.”

“If you must know, it was Grand Steward Riot who told me of Morgana’s condition. And before you start doubting Ashelia’s devotion again: it isn’t like she tells me of everything that goes on between these walls. She only contacted me because she understands that I still care deeply for Morgana’s well-being.”

Raubahn’s eyes narrowed at her. “Before I start doubting her devotion again?”

“Perhaps if your council had actually listened to Ashelia instead of casting doubt upon her every move regarding the Undercity, it wouldn’t have come to this,” Saskia snapped, “and Morgana wouldn’t be on death’s door having protected a man so desperate to prove himself still strong enough to lead he forgets his own duty to her!”

Raubahn looked as though he had taken an unexpected blow—the sort that only made a man fight harder, angrier. It was the first Saskia saw of the hot-tempered man who had made his reputation as the fiery leader of the Immortal Flames.

“This coming from a woman who has done nothing but obfuscate in service to a game of subterfuge she no longer needs to play,” he replied harshly. “All this to thwart the very same council you accuse—which, so very recently, accused you of abetting the Empire. When Tibost’s people began to clamour for retribution, who do you think argued for your contributions to the Resistance? Whose voice joined Ashelia’s to give credibility to your Undercity contact in spite of your continued refusal to name your allies within my ranks?” His voice rose, resounding within the hallway: “Bark at me again about the sort of man I am, and I may finally give you reason to doubt that I could be anything but an ally to you.”

Saskia flinched again in the face of his anger, but she was her mothers’ daughter, and she stood her ground. 

“Is that all? Because you defended me against that farce of a list, I should be grateful that Morgana again has been grievously wounded in your service in spite of your duty as a man to protect her?”

“Morgana chose this position. I would never disrespect her by acting as though my duty to protect her supersedes her duty—”

“‘She chose this,’” Saskia repeated scornfully. “How many times will you tell yourself this before you find the words wanting? Or perhaps you already do. Perhaps your anger towards me is only a shade of your anger at your own failure—”

“Enough, you two,” said Ashelia as she quickly strode from one end of the hallway to them, commanding as though she were not two decades younger than them; this was the Grand Steward speaking. She drew near, keeping her voice quiet so as not to carry. “I know this is a difficult time,” she said, giving Raubahn a meaningful look, “but there are better places for this conversation, unless you want the whole palace to wonder whether all this isn’t much more personal than it seemed five minutes ago.”

“Isn’t it?” Saskia asked, not tearing her gaze from Raubahn.

“Believe it or not, this is bigger than you or me or Morgana Arroway. If we weren’t certain when we woke up this morning, this attack proves it,” Ashelia said seriously. She jerked her head back towards the direction she had come, away from the infirmary. “The old Riskbreakers’ offices. We need to talk.”

[farplane]

DAY 1: FOSTER

​Usually, when Saskia visited Rinomy’s, it was to visit her Uncle Gawain.

Her mothers had never made much of it—she was aware throughout her childhood, of course, that children were not usually welcome in taverns, and that other parents found it strange that she should spend so much time through her formative years in one—and Gawain always kept some sweet wines that did well with being watered down and snacks just for her. 

As she got older, it was less about playing on the floor while the grown-ups talked and more about just speaking with an adult who wasn’t her mothers or her instructors; Gawain was funny and always seemed to want to know what she thought, and she was learning how to command admiration from the way he would marvel at her—and then he would say something irritating like you are so much like your Ma and, well.

She would remember that he was family, and you didn’t need admiration from family. Just love, and companionship, and earnest care.

So that was why she visited Rinomy’s: because it was Gawain’s (and Wulfric’s, he always said, but in truth Wulfric was far away and getting easier and easier to forget), and Gawain was family, and that meant it was home.

But lately, it was also the site of a wonder among wonders: a nest a stray dog had made for her newborn litter of puppies in an upturned crate left in the alley behind the tavern. Ma said it was a problem—mostly because Saskia desperately wanted to take home every last one of them, mother included. It was a discussion they would be forced to have, eventually, and Saskia was almost entirely certain that Mum was helping her stall on saying no by insisting that the pups were too young to move, or especially take away from their mother, for the time being.

Saskia was not deterred. She went to Rinomy’s for its back alley every day after her lessons, because at the very least, she could care for them while the Emery council of two bided their time to vote. Gawain did his best to stay out of it, though she knew he was inclined towards letting her have everything she wanted because that was what uncles were like (until Ma made him, in his words, fear for his life), only getting involved as far as coming out every day to check on the puppies with her and help her provide whatever the mother needed.

She cherished those moments with him more than her years would let her admit: the rumbling, gentle tones of his voice as he kept quiet so as not to disturb the pups; the solid presence of him, warm and enveloping. He felt like an extension of Ma, maybe, a part of her that took the shape of something like fatherhood.

But today, it wasn’t Gawain that joined her.

The boy—maybe boy wasn’t quite right, because he was older and wider than the boys her age—was so quiet that she didn’t realize he was in the alley until he stood close enough for Saskia to notice the warm gold tones of his eyes, the stubble on his jaw, the soft curve to his lips. He gave her a kind, handsome smile that made something in her ribcage twinge—something that she would later recognize as not quite her own feeling, forcibly attributed to the boy when it was rather the quality of his attention—and greeted her like she wasn’t barely more than a kid to him.

Or maybe she was divining too much from a simple, “Hey.”

“Hey,” she said back, very aware of her cheeks flushing. Sometimes, having a pale northern mother was a curse.

“Do you mind if I have a peek?” he said, gesturing towards the crate.

Saskia mutely shook her head and made a little space at her right for him. He crouched close, knees wide, perfectly balanced on his feet—and Saskia watched his smile both widen and soften, the way anyone smiled at sweet tiny things like puppies and children.

“How is it that they’re so adorable it makes my chest hurt, eh?” he asked quietly. When he turned that smile on Saskia again, she quickly averted her gaze and leaned forward to scratch the mother behind the ears.

My ma says, she almost began, but that would just make her sound like a baby— “It’s in our nature to want to protect.”

The boy nodded, humming in assent. Then he extended a hand towards her, his nails grimy and his palms wide. “I’m Marco.”

“Saskia,” she replied as she shook his hand, trying to inject some of her mum’s grace into her gestures and voice. Her name she managed smoothly, but not the clumsy question that followed: “Were you just walking past?”

That made him bashful, somehow. “Ah, no. I’m actually a friend of—” and here he hesitated before catching himself, flashing another smile to cast it away. (She would never know of the little voice in Marco’s mind: the whisper of doubt that Wulfric could want his life in the Undercity to contaminate that perfect thing he had left behind above.) “A friend of mine comes to that tavern every once in a while. He mentioned the puppies last time I saw him, and I wanted to see them, so… here I am.”

“I’m looking after them,” Saskia said. “Well, trying to.”

Marco considered the blanket she had brought to keep the nest warm, the bowl of fresh water she filled every day for the mother, the toys she had made herself. “You’re doing a good job, I’d say,” he said, then made a halting gesture towards the crate. “Are they old enough to hold?”

The tottering puppies pushed and whined at each other in some semblance of play, flopping onto their sides every few unbalanced steps.

“Just be really gentle. And say hello to the mum first—that’s what I do.”

Marco dutifully followed her instructions: he reached out to pet the mother first, scratching her ears until her eyes half-closed, then turned his attention to one of the smaller puppies. He slid his hand under its belly and brought it close to his chest, resting in the crook of his arm. Small and safe.

After a moment of cooing and whispering at the pup, he looked up at Saskia. “Have you found them homes yet?”

“No,” Saskia said sulkily. “I’d take them if I could, but I don’t think…” my moms will say yes. “I’d be able to feed them all. But I don’t want them to stay strays. It’s too sad.”

“I could take one off your hands,” Marco said, petting the pup’s tiny head with one finger. “For a bit.”

“They’re too little to be weaned,” Saskia said, maybe too defensively.

“Yeah, yeah, of course. Just—when it’s grown enough.”

“Maybe.”

Saskia reached out and petted every head belonging to a pup not in Marco’s arms, and he smiled and looked down at his young charge.

“What do you say, little lad? Would you want me to take care of you?” he asked, his voice sweet and bright even as he spoke very softly.

The pup yawned and fell asleep against his chest. 

marco belongs to @onwesterlywinds