Post by sylvanius on Aug 25, 2017 1:42:51 GMT 10
Title: A Better Man
Summary: Scorned by a lover and on the road with Numair, Daine makes a discovery about herself and is forced to consider her future. Set several years post-ROTG where Numair never revealed his feelings. One-shot.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Sexual themes/undertones.
Daine fumed for two full weeks after they left Corus. What began as a routine call to duty, and a hasty morning of packing, had led Daine to an unpleasant discovery. She had stopped at the stables to do an early morning check of the rider’s mounts before Numair arrived. She was nearly finished when she came across a couple tumbling in a stall between a tawny mare and a speckled gelding. Catching young lovers in the hay was not a new occurrence—in fact Onua and Sarge made a competition of who could scare the most in a season—but catching her lover was.
Alec and the sandy-haired girl were too wrapped up in one another, quite literally in this case, to notice her. Shocked, Daine had turned on her heel and stalked away. Onua was coming towards her, a bundle of leads in her hand, when she saw the look on the younger woman’s face. Not waiting for her friend to ask Daine jerked her head back at the occupied style. The K’mir tossed the leads into an empty stall, trotted over, peeked over the edge and visibly blanched. Daine had only told a couple of people about her swain, Onua included.
To Daine’s surprise Onua did not interrupt them but came back towards her.
“I’m getting Sarge—He scares the boys more than I do.” She whispered and picked up her pace as she left the barn. “Never tell him I said that.” The K’miri hissed as an afterthought.
Released from her duties until she returned Daine had set off towards the Scanran border with Numair in tow, sunk deep into a stony silence. Numair gave up trying to make anything more than light conversation after the first two days, settling into his own irksome mood.
Though her foul mood broke during the third week it wasn’t until the fourth that she interrupted Numair while he was writing a report with a tight hug. He relaxed and set his travel desk aside, his own tension seeping from his body. He returned the hug and stroked her hair.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No,” she buried her face in the crook of his arm and the man sighed.
“As you wish, magelet.”
The next several weeks passed in a much more pleasant manner though the weather did it’s best to foul their tempers once more. The band of Ogres they had been dispatched to deal with had already moved on by the time they reached their destination, forcing the pair to follow them. They travelled through the mountains for 3 weeks longer than they had anticipated and Daine found herself more homesick than she had anticipated. She missed her friends and she missed Kit—at least Numair did his best to cheer her up, though was noticeably surprised by her uncharacteristic bouts of melancholy.
They finally caught up with the ogres only to find that they were a peaceful band, who instigated panic when they tried to settle farms too close to a Barony. Daine and Numair were able to direct them to an unallocated valley—writing back to the crown to inform them of their new citizens and asking if the next patrol scheduled to be in the area could drop off supplies as a gesture of goodwill.
Exhausted but pleased, they were able to begin their journey home. Despite their eagerness their progress was slow. Heavy rain bogged them down for 3 days, coating their clothing and mounts in thick coats of mud that never seemed to fully wash off. One small blessing was that Numair had managed to procure a satchel of apples from the Ogres, gifted to them in gratitude. Normally not a favorite of Daine’s, she ate through nearly the entire satchel before they were on the road again.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat this much.” Numair stared at her over the fire one night, watching her consume her third of the evening.
“I can’t help it. I’m so hungy—it’s all this rain,” she motioned to the entrance of the cave where rain continued to hammer against the swampy ground. “All I want to do is eat and sleep.” He laughed and stirred the pot in front of him.
“Do you want me to put more noodles on?” Daine made a face.
“If I never see another one of those soup satchels again I will die happy.” She grumbled but paused, “But yes, please.” She added sheepishly, ignoring Numair’s smirk.
Sunlight finally broke through the clouds and they resumed their journey, though Daine’s fatigue did not relent. On their fourth day since the rainstorm Daine awoke to find Numair lifting her from Cloud’s back. She was mortified, not having fallen asleep in the saddle in years, and insisted that she was fine but he would not hear of them continuing any further that night and they made camp. She fell asleep as soon as dinner was over, feeling guilty when she awoke to find that Numair had both cooked and cleaned the night prior. It happened twice more in the coming weeks, Daine becoming more embarrassed with each incident and Numair becoming more concerned. Numair was usually the first one to become rundown, Daine taking to the road more naturally, but it was Daine who felt the fatigue clouding her mind and the aches setting in to her limbs more acutely with each day on the road.
They had just two days before they could say farewell to the mountains and join the main road when Daine found herself sick after breakfast. The subtle nausea that had waxed and waned during their journey had finally overwhelmed her. Even after she had emptied the contents of her stomach her insides rolled unpleasantly. Daine kicked dirt over the mess and wiped her mouth on the hem of her mud-stained tunic and cursed loudly, a numb panic washing over her as realization set in. Ma would knock her silly if she knew—a midwife’s daughter taking so long to put the pieces together.
She pulled the chain at her neck from underneath her shirt. Both the badger claw and the goddess circle were there. She ran her thumb over the gold of the circle, trying to think of a time when she had removed it. Thinking of none she inspected the charm—there is was. A tiny crack marred the smooth surface, so slight that you wouldn’t feel it by touch but there nonetheless. Daine made her way back to camp, cursing under her breath.
Numair stood when he saw her, stowing his journal in Spot’s pack.
“Ready to go?” He seemed eager to set out, and not in the mood for talking so early in the day. Daine nodded, lost in thought. They day was a quiet one. Numair tried to make conversation, finally becoming vexed when he realized that Daine had stopped paying attention for the third time.
“Fine,” he huffed quietly, drawing Spot’s back so that he rode behind her.
Daine continued to stew through dinner, becoming sick again afterwards. Eventually she sighed—not able to shake her ma’s voice urging her of what needed to be done. She pulled a map from Numair’s pack and located the closest village large enough to have a healer worth their salt.
“We need to go to town.” She replied, when Numair questioned her. She hoped against better odds that he wouldn’t press the reason but luck did not appear to be on her side.
“That’s three days out of the way, Daine.” He sighed, obviously not wanting to entertain the idea. “Why?”
“We need supplies,” she put the map down, staring into the fire. She could feel Numair studying her from across the flames.
“We have supplies, Daine. We have enough from the Ogres to get us back to Corus—which is where we need to be headed.” He was vexed and she knew it. Their journey hadn’t just taken a toll on her. “We head home.” His tone made it clear that he wanted no argument from her. He used it rarely, but when he did she usually listened. Usually.
“I disagree.” She met his eyes, challenging him. He sighed, running a long finger along the arch of his nose.
“You’re going to need to give me a better answer.” He said after a pause. His tone was as steadfast as her own. She sighed, knowing she would have to tell him eventually—she just wasn’t ready yet. She didn’t want to see his disappointment when her own was already more than she could bear.
“I need a healer.” She was studying her nail beds but saw the man sit up straighter from the corner of her eye.
“Are you hurt?” Concern replaced any previous annoyance. She didn’t answer, willing her hands to stop shaking, and he pressed further, “Daine, if you’re hurt you need to tell me.”
“I’m not hurt,” she replied quickly, wanting to put his mind at ease. “I,” she broke off, voice cracking. She took a moment to collect herself and cleared the lump in her throat, “I’m pregnant. I think.” Her voice was barely above a whisper and she could not bring herself to raise her eyes, to look at him—too afraid to see his expression. The silence pressed in on the clearing, interrupted only by the rustling of Numair’s clothes as he moved.
Suddenly, Daine was pulled to her feet and wrapped tightly in Numair’s arms. Daine felt herself break down into tears, clutching him tightly, overwhelmed by the emotion overtaking her. Numair murmured to her softly and stroked her hair. After a long moment he lowered them to sit, keeping Daine wrapped firmly in his embrace. She cried for what seemed like ages—all the emotions from the past day that she had not allowed herself to feel consuming her. When she had calmed down enough to form complete words she pulled away to look at her friends face, making sure not to break contact any more than she had to.
“I’m sorry,” she hiccupped.
“What for?” Numair pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping her tear-stained face.
“You must be so disappointed in me,” she choked back another sob and he pulled her back to him, rubbing her back.
“No, magelet. I’m not disappointed.” He released her and handed the handkerchief over. “A little surprised, I suppose.”
“You and me both.” She blew her nose and he laughed, tightly.
“I suppose you understand how this came about.” She paused at his question before noticing the smirk on his face.
“Are you really joking about this?” Her mouth fell open and he held his hands up in defense.
“I’m sorry, it’s still sinking in. I just couldn’t pass up a chance to remind Sara’s daughter of the basic facts.” He referred back to a conversation that had taken place when she was nearly fourteen. She had laughed herself silly when he had tried to make sure she was ‘properly educated in the details of being a woman’ as he had so charmingly put it. She would bet good money that Alanna had tricked him into it.
“And yes, I know how it happened.” She pulled the goddess circle from its chain and handed it to Numair who turned it over in his long fingers, inspecting it in the firelight. He stopped and hissed when he saw the crack.
“Hag’s Bones.” He was talking more to himself than to her. “What backwater, no sense, waste-of-” He sighed, handing it back to Daine. “That,” he motioned to the offending crack, “should not have happened. Though I suppose yours may see more wear and tear than that of your average lady at court.” He blushed when he saw her raised eyebrow. “I meant because of your lifestyle, not…” He broke off, the blush spreading more deeply across his swarthy cheeks. “I could have spelled you a stronger one, or done something to protect that one from damage. I just hadn’t thought…” He broke off again, rubbing his face with a large hand.
“Hadn’t thought?” Daine pressed, wondering if his blush was becoming a permanent feature.
“I didn’t know what you were—” He waved his hand in the air, embellishing what he was apparently uncomfortable voicing.
“Canoodling? Having sex?” She supplied and he hung his head, shaking it.
“Yes, that. Unless you have any more charming euphemisms to provide?” She shook her head and he sighed. “I guess I just thought I would know.” She shrugged, grabbing a stick and stoking the fire. It flared to life as she turned his comment over in her mind. He seemed bothered more by the idea of her laying with a man than of her being with child out of wedlock.
“We don’t really talk about that sort of thing,” she supplied, shrugging.
“You’re right, and that’s probably my fault.” His words were slow, careful. “I obviously seem to have difficulty talking about—”
“Sex.” She supplied before correcting herself, “I’m sorry, I think you meant canoodling was the more charming choice” She smirked, amused by herself.
“Yes, that.” Numair replied dryly. “I seem to have a hard time talking about that with you.”
“You don’t seem to have a problem having it.” She said frankly and Numair spluttered. “I’m sorry, that was not very tactful. What I meant was that you regularly pursue your own affairs—I had assumed that you knew I also pursued my own without us needing to talk about it.”
“I knew you had suitors I just didn’t know you canoodled with them.” It seemed to take actual physical effort for him to form the word. “And I don’t know if I would say I ‘regularly pursue affairs’. I prefer to keep my private life private.” He was taken aback at her burst of laughter.
“Oh, you’re serious.” Daine looked at him sheepishly. “I’m sorry, I just always assumed it didn’t matter much to you what other’s thought of your relationships.” She bit her lip, pressing further, “And I’m not sure what you’re definition of regularly is but I think it’s safe to say you haven’t been caught in any droughts, Master Mage.”
“Even going back,” she paused, holding up a hand to count on, “let’s say five years. There was Varice in Carthak,” she made a face at the name, “Lady Lorin the winter after, and I think maybe before as well, Elzabeta the following Fall, Lady Sandris by Midwinter of that year, Lady Lorin again—” She was halted by Numair’s hand, an unspoken plea to be silent.
“Please stop,” he was pale and cleared his throat weakly. “Please don’t continue that list. I had not realized how,” he searched for the word, “thoroughly you keep track of my affairs.” He was obviously embarrassed and she took pity on him, grasping his hand in her own.
“It’s not that hard to notice when we spend as much time together as we do,” she said gently, trying to ease his embarrassment. “I’m sure you could list off any of the men who have pursued me in the last few years—maybe even a few who didn’t.” He laughed at this, agreeing.
“And I don’t sleep with all of them,” she said sourly, “but I’m not completely sure why you would think that I don’t sleep with any. Your own actions would imply that you don’t believe sex is something that should only be enjoyed by married couples.”
“You’re right,” he met her eyes now. “I don’t believe that. I just want you to have better.”
“Better than what? Better than being able to have control over my own private life?”
“Better than men like me.” The pain in his eyes took her by surprise. “Better than men who take no issue with enjoying a woman in their bed without any intention of making a commitment by her.” It was her turn to blush now, she was not used to Numair being so frank about his own experiences. She waved him off.
“There are no better men than you, Numair.” If she had been looking at him she would have seen his expression soften, touched by her words. “Besides, I wasn’t exactly looking for a commitment either. Although it looks like I have one anyway.” She placed her hand on her stomach, her attention drawn away from their tangent. Numair sighed and slowly, giving her time to object, brought his hand to cover her own.
“I’ll need to send a report to Jon explaining that we have been delayed again. I will find an excuse,” he elaborated at Daine’s panicked look. “Do you want to send word to the father?” He asked quietly. She was thankful that he didn’t ask if she knew who the father was. It’s the first question she was expecting from most people—whether to her face or behind her back.
“Oh, he’s probably still busy rolling around in the hay with his new friend. I doubt he’ll have time to read letters.” She said sourly and, at Numair’s questioning look, explained what had happened the morning they left. Numair sighed, and pulled her in to lean on his shoulder.
“Well, that explains your mood anyway. I thought I had done something to make you cross.” He kissed her hair, and she laughed and felt tears forming in her eyes once more.
“No, I’m sorry I took it out on you. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to keep seeing him but it still stung.”
“It always does.” She looked up at him and he offered a half-smile, “Lady Lorin—it’s like a bad play where you know the ending but you keep buying tickets anyway.” She laughed until she had to wipe tears from her eyes—or maybe she was crying. She couldn’t tell anymore.
“I would rather wait until we are home to speak with him,” she said finally. “When I’ve had more time to figure out what I am going to do.”
“If he proposes?” Numair scuffed his boot in the dirt. He did not seem thrilled with the idea.
“I won’t give him the chance.” She said firmly. “I have no interest in marrying him. I’d rather—” She choked, tongue thick in her mouth. “I’d rather have a bastard.” She fought back a new wave of tears at the word. Silence lingered between them and Numair squeezed her shoulder, doing what he could to comfort her.
“Dainesri.” She turned the name over in her mouth and blanched, “No, Veralidainesri. Mithros, so many bad sounds in a row. The first name is going to have to be short.” Numair chuckled.
“I’m sorry, it’s not funny.” He smiled sheepishly. “Don’t use –sri.” He shrugged, “You aren’t in Galla anymore.”
“And use what? Keep it Sarrasri? Same effect.” She pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on them.
“Daine, you are hardly a traditional woman. I don’t know why you feel compelled to follow convention in this instance. The child is already going to have gods as grandparents, a dragon for a sister and a mother who spend half of her time performing deeds that bards write ballads about.”
“Used to, you mean,” Daine grumbled. “By the time the baby arrives I will be a woman who used to do those things.”
“Why?” Numair’s brows snapped together.
“I’ll be raising a child on my own, Numair. How will I carry on this life?” She shrugged, her eyes over bright. She loved her life and had worked hard to create it—and now it was all over.
“Alanna does.” He said simply.
“Alanna has a household full of people to help and a husband. Besides,” she turned her head to look at him, “we both know that she’s the exception.” She sighed, looking forward once more.
“I liked talking about names better. It wasn’t quite as sad. What would you suggest the little ones last name be?” She asked, drawing circles in the dirt with her boot. When he did not answer she sat up straight and turned to him. “Numair?” He was studying her, thoughtfully, as though we was searching for something. Eventually he took a deep breath, clasping his hands in front of him.
“Salmalin.”
“I know you’re proud of the name you created, Numair,” she rolled her eyes, “but that doesn’t mean you should give it to everything.” She almost laughed when the look on his face stopped her.
“Daine,” he whispered.
“Numair,” she cut him off, “You know I can’t let you do that.”
“Just hear me out.” He put up a hand before she could cut him off again. “There have been rumors about us for years—no one will think twice if we say the child is mine. Any of those closest to us who suspect the truth, well, I think they would keep our confidence.” He paused, blushing. “We’re a team, Daine. To be honest I would think of any child you have as mine in a way.” He looked away, “Maybe it will just be in the role of father instead of eccentric uncle.” She laughed at this, not able to stop herself from picturing Numair coddling an infant. “Your child would have a father, one who would treat them as their own.”
Daine was crying in earnest now, quiet tears streaming down her face. She leaned over and wrapped her arms around the man, falling against his chest. He released the breath he had been holding and returned the embrace.
“If you prefer I can claim the child without us formalizing a union,” he said softly, stroking her hair. “I understand if you want to keep your options open but if you would accept,” he paused, his voice becoming quiet. “If you would have me there is a temple in the village. We could return to Corus married. Depending on how far along you are I suspect there may not even be many questions about the timing.”
“You would do that?” Her mind was reeling now. “Surely you want to marry for yourself.” There was a long silence and Numair kissed her hair.
“I would not offer if I did not think it was a feasible option, or that I could not be happy.” She sighed into his arms, suddenly feeling tired. Could she be happy married to Numair? She has happy with him now and she enjoyed being in his arms. She felt herself falling asleep, and nestled more snugly into his chest.
“You know I can’t let you do that.” She rubbed her nose in the chest hair peeking from the V in his shirt. He tightened his embrace.
“Just think on it. We can discuss details later, we have a few days still.” He continued to stroke her hair until he realized she had fallen asleep. He carried her to his bedroll, putting her own on top of his for extra warmth, and fell asleep cradling her against him.
They made good time to the village, though they took more breaks than Daine would have liked and Numair fretted over her constantly. He would not let her cook, or clean let alone do much else. She was on strict orders to rest and get to bed early. She kept to her own bedroll after the first night, though Numair did not comment on it. Numair made sure to make it clear that his offer stood—even revealing that he had thought of a plan for where they could put a nursery in his tower. He almost seemed excited. She let him carry on with his enthusiasm as it lifted both of their moods to stay in his happy fantasy.
They arrived mid-morning, bringing their mounts to the Inn. Daine felt anxious, wishing that today was over and done with. Pretty soon it would all be so much more real. Despite her nerves she offered to groom the horses while Numair checked them in.
“Do you want me to come with you?” He asked, placing a hand on hers.
“I think I’d like to go on my own if that’s alright. I have some thinking to do.” She hope she hadn’t hurt his feelings. He squeezed her hand and nodded.
“That’s alright, I have some things I need to attend to. I’ll handle things here—you go on ahead.” When she hesitated he urged her on. “Go, I will make sure there is food in my room for when you return.”
She set off out of the courtyard. The streets were bustling with the signature steady beat of small-town life. At Numair’s persistence she had given more thought to his offer. Despite her determination that she would not accept the more she thought about it the more she was tempted to say yes. Like him, she could see herself being happy in the life he proposed. Ultimately, though, she knew that it would not be fair. She could not expect him to sacrifice the rest of his life for her mistake. Not to mention what they would do when he, or she, wanted to take a lover. Despite his grumbling to the contrary he was a young man with needs and desires. She surely did not expect him to be celibate. She realized that they had talked of marriage in regards to parenting, but not in terms of man and wife.
Did he expect that they would carry out affairs discreetly? It would certainly not be the first time a couple made that arrangement. Did he anticipate that they would share a bed? Her stomach fluttered at the thought, and she felt herself blush and pushed the thought from her mind. Thoughts like that had already gotten her into quite enough trouble.
She found herself at the healer’s house and let herself in, bells hung across the doorframe ringing gently.
“Welcome,” A plump, pleasant looking woman with coppery hair tied back with a scarf appeared from another room. “How can I help you?” Daine tried to answer but found her throat dry. She cleared it and tried again.
“I think I may be pregnant.” Her voice was shaky.
“Well let’s find out, young one.” The healer said kindly, ushering her into a back room. She motioned for Daine to sit on a daybed piled with soft looking blankets and took a seat across from her. “Hands, please.” She held out her own and Daine complied. She saw the woman glance at her fingers, bare of any rings and looked down, blushing. “Hush, child. If babies only happened after a wedding night I would be out half of my business. Now stay still.”
Daine felt the woman’s magic, pale orange fire, flow into her. It seemed to take forever, Daine trying to stop from fidgeting the entire time, before the healer broke the connection and released Daine’s hands with a quick squeeze.
The older woman clasped her hands in her lap and looked at Daine with kind eyes.
“You’re not pregnant.” She smiled before sighing, “But you are sick, and it’s good you came.” Daine barely heard the last statement, reeling from the first. She let out a breath she felt she had been holding for days and laughed, elated.
“I’m sorry, I’m not pregnant?” She had to confirm, hoping she had not just heard what she wanted.
“You are not with child. You’re relieved?” She nodded.
“I was so sure.” Daine wiped a watery eye, “My mas was a midwife and she made sure I knew the signs.” The healer laughed.
“Ah, I see. They are good to know for sure, but it’s also common for a woman who knows the signs to connect ones that don’t need connecting. You aren’t the first to jump to conclusions but you did the right thing by coming to me. That being said, keeping your wall manned is better than dealing with an enemy that’s already broken down the gate.” She raised her eyebrows and Daine sighed, pulling her circle from her pouch. She handed it over and the healer clicked her tongue at the crack.
“Well, the good news is that a little crack like this shouldn’t affect whether or not it works. The chances are very small. You’ll be wanting a new one anyway, just in case?” Daine nodded and the woman fetched a pouch from a drawer, drawing a shiny new circle from it and handing it to Daine who slid it back onto her chain. She reached into her pouch to pay for the charm and was surprised to find two gold crowns that had not been there the night before. Numair, she thought with amusement. She gave one of the gold crowns to the healer who looked surprised but accepted it without comment. As far as Daine was concerned no price was too high for the weight that had been taken of her shoulders.
“Wait, you said I was sick?” Daine asked, suddenly remembering the healer’s words.
“Relax, you’ll be fine but I’m sorry to say that it won’t be fun. Have you heard of grey fever?” Daine shook her head, “Have you been in the mountains?” She eyed Daine’s mud stained breeches and the younger woman blushed and nodded, suddenly realizing how filthy she was for the first time in days. “It’s a nasty fever that starts out slow while it lays its roots. It’s common this time of the year with all of the rain and damp. You’re about to hit the worst of it I’m afraid, but it’s best to let it burn itself out.” She got up and began plucking herbs from satchels hanging along the wall.
“I’m going to make you a draught. You’re to drink it when you get back and go right to bed. You’re at The Gilded Lilly?” Daine nodded “I will stop by tomorrow and every day after until you are well to bring you a new draught and get you through the worst of it. You’ll sleep mostly, and you’ll not be coherent come tomorrow, but three or four days and you will feel like a new person.”
Daine accepted the draught and left. The healing woman would not accept additional payment. She had to stop herself from skipping all the way back to the Inn. Despite the nausea and aches that still persisted she felt better than she had in weeks.
Arriving back at the Inn she got directions to her room, setting the draught on a small table next to her bed. The healer was very adamant that she go right to bed but she wanted to talk to Numair first, and to have a bath. A knock came from the adjoining room and the door swung open to reveal Numair. From his anxious look and how quickly he had appeared she knew he must have been listening for her. He was looking at her expectantly and fiddling with something in his hand. She made no comment on the fact that he had not asked for the adjoining door to be locked as was his usual practice. Daine smiled and practically leaped across the room, hitting him hard and hugging him tightly. He stumbled back into his own room and laughed, surprised. She pulled away, taking a deep breath.
“I’m not pregnant.” Saying it was like taking a deep breath of air after being underwater.
“Oh,” he said, clearly surprised, “That’s wonderful.” His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes but she didn’t have time to dwell on it before he embraced her again. “I am very pleased for you, magelet.” They lingered in the embrace for a long moment before he pulled away, creating space between them and guided her to a plushy chair in the corner, motioning to a plate with some bread and cheese on it.
“I can ask for soup as well, if you’d like.” He sank into a chair across from her, suddenly looking tired.
“What’s that?” Daine mumbled through a mouth half full of bread and motioned to the object he still fiddled with. He blushed a brilliant shade of red and moved to put it in his pocket.
“Nothing.” He mumbled. Daine rolled her eyes.
“Mouse manure. Are you really worried about being embarrassed? I think I’ve made a fool enough of myself for the both of us.” She swallowed hard, washing it down with a large gulp of water and quickly regretted it as her stomach rolled unpleasantly. Numair sighed and opened his palm. Her breath caught and she found that she could still make herself more foolish. A silver band accented in sapphires lay in his open palm, the work was simpler than what you could find in the capital but it was beautiful nonetheless. It was a popular style to be gifted when confirming a betrothal. She sighed and looked at Numair, who was doing his best to avoid her gaze.
“I meant what I said you know,” she smiled at his confused expression. “There are no men better than you.” He smiled at that and put the ring in his pocket.
“I just thought I should be prepared.” He mumbled, toying with the hem of his shirt.
“You’re too good to me. You’re going to make an amazing husband and da one day, Numair.” She leaned over and took his hand, squeezing it gently. “With the woman you want to be with.” She held his hand for a moment longer before leaning back. Numair looked embarrassed but thoughtful. Suddenly, his brows knitted.
“Wait, you’re not pregnant but you were sick…”he trailed off, waiting for her explanation.
“Oh,” she nodded, “Yes, I have something called grey fever. I have a draught in my room I am supposed to take and go right to bed. The healer said I will be down for the better part of a week and might become delirious.” She nibbled on a piece of cheese as Numair jumped up.
“Mithros, Daine. You need to be in bed.” He was pulling her up before she could even put the cheese down.
“I will do no such thing until I get a bath.” She said bluntly, realizing what she must smell like.
“I’ve already had one drawn. I know you like your bath right away, your highness,” he smirked. She didn’t comment on the fact that he was already bathed and smelling of soap. “Call when you are out, or if you need help, and I will make sure you’re squared away.” He ushered her into her room where she saw that there was, in fact, a tub full of water waiting for her, bits of black fire around it told her Numair had been keeping it warm for her. Hearing the door close behind her she breathed deeply and began to shed her travel worn clothing.
Two nights later Numair sat next to Daine’s bed, one eye on the book in his lap and the other on the sweating form of his friend who was sleeping restlessly. The fever had hit in full force the night prior and she had been alternating between a dead sleep and delirium since. The healer said that she was doing just fine but he could not help but worry, refusing to leave her side for any longer than was absolutely necessary.
When she began to mumble he closed the book and scooted his chair closer to the bed. Every few hours she tried to speak, worried about some crises or another for which he tried to waylay her fears. So far there had been a stormwing attack, a Kraken in the kitchen and something about Kitten and a feathered mongoose he hadn’t quite been able to piece together.
“Baby…” Daine muttered and Numair felt a dull pang in his chest. He hushed her, smoothing damp curls away from her forehead.
“Hush, sweetling. You’re not pregnant, remember?” He felt guilty for his disappointment.
“Good.” She said, letting out a ragged breath. She mumbled something, giggling to herself. He smirked. At least she was enjoying herself.
“What was that?” He leaned in again, turning his ear towards her dry lips.
“Good. If I have babies I want your babies.” She giggled, wildly, again before falling still once more. Her breath becoming steady and her sleep becoming deep once more. Numair was frozen in place for several long moments before sitting back, his hand tugging at the end of his nose. The reasonable side of his mind reminded him that she was delirious and likely didn’t even recognize him. The other side though, the hopeful side—he shook his head and pulled the sapphire ring from his pocket. He turned it over in his fingers. He had thought to keep it, just in case. Thinking better of it he vowed to bring it back to the jeweler when Daine was well. He would have something custom made when they returned home.
Summary: Scorned by a lover and on the road with Numair, Daine makes a discovery about herself and is forced to consider her future. Set several years post-ROTG where Numair never revealed his feelings. One-shot.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Sexual themes/undertones.
Daine fumed for two full weeks after they left Corus. What began as a routine call to duty, and a hasty morning of packing, had led Daine to an unpleasant discovery. She had stopped at the stables to do an early morning check of the rider’s mounts before Numair arrived. She was nearly finished when she came across a couple tumbling in a stall between a tawny mare and a speckled gelding. Catching young lovers in the hay was not a new occurrence—in fact Onua and Sarge made a competition of who could scare the most in a season—but catching her lover was.
Alec and the sandy-haired girl were too wrapped up in one another, quite literally in this case, to notice her. Shocked, Daine had turned on her heel and stalked away. Onua was coming towards her, a bundle of leads in her hand, when she saw the look on the younger woman’s face. Not waiting for her friend to ask Daine jerked her head back at the occupied style. The K’mir tossed the leads into an empty stall, trotted over, peeked over the edge and visibly blanched. Daine had only told a couple of people about her swain, Onua included.
To Daine’s surprise Onua did not interrupt them but came back towards her.
“I’m getting Sarge—He scares the boys more than I do.” She whispered and picked up her pace as she left the barn. “Never tell him I said that.” The K’miri hissed as an afterthought.
Released from her duties until she returned Daine had set off towards the Scanran border with Numair in tow, sunk deep into a stony silence. Numair gave up trying to make anything more than light conversation after the first two days, settling into his own irksome mood.
Though her foul mood broke during the third week it wasn’t until the fourth that she interrupted Numair while he was writing a report with a tight hug. He relaxed and set his travel desk aside, his own tension seeping from his body. He returned the hug and stroked her hair.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No,” she buried her face in the crook of his arm and the man sighed.
“As you wish, magelet.”
The next several weeks passed in a much more pleasant manner though the weather did it’s best to foul their tempers once more. The band of Ogres they had been dispatched to deal with had already moved on by the time they reached their destination, forcing the pair to follow them. They travelled through the mountains for 3 weeks longer than they had anticipated and Daine found herself more homesick than she had anticipated. She missed her friends and she missed Kit—at least Numair did his best to cheer her up, though was noticeably surprised by her uncharacteristic bouts of melancholy.
They finally caught up with the ogres only to find that they were a peaceful band, who instigated panic when they tried to settle farms too close to a Barony. Daine and Numair were able to direct them to an unallocated valley—writing back to the crown to inform them of their new citizens and asking if the next patrol scheduled to be in the area could drop off supplies as a gesture of goodwill.
Exhausted but pleased, they were able to begin their journey home. Despite their eagerness their progress was slow. Heavy rain bogged them down for 3 days, coating their clothing and mounts in thick coats of mud that never seemed to fully wash off. One small blessing was that Numair had managed to procure a satchel of apples from the Ogres, gifted to them in gratitude. Normally not a favorite of Daine’s, she ate through nearly the entire satchel before they were on the road again.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat this much.” Numair stared at her over the fire one night, watching her consume her third of the evening.
“I can’t help it. I’m so hungy—it’s all this rain,” she motioned to the entrance of the cave where rain continued to hammer against the swampy ground. “All I want to do is eat and sleep.” He laughed and stirred the pot in front of him.
“Do you want me to put more noodles on?” Daine made a face.
“If I never see another one of those soup satchels again I will die happy.” She grumbled but paused, “But yes, please.” She added sheepishly, ignoring Numair’s smirk.
Sunlight finally broke through the clouds and they resumed their journey, though Daine’s fatigue did not relent. On their fourth day since the rainstorm Daine awoke to find Numair lifting her from Cloud’s back. She was mortified, not having fallen asleep in the saddle in years, and insisted that she was fine but he would not hear of them continuing any further that night and they made camp. She fell asleep as soon as dinner was over, feeling guilty when she awoke to find that Numair had both cooked and cleaned the night prior. It happened twice more in the coming weeks, Daine becoming more embarrassed with each incident and Numair becoming more concerned. Numair was usually the first one to become rundown, Daine taking to the road more naturally, but it was Daine who felt the fatigue clouding her mind and the aches setting in to her limbs more acutely with each day on the road.
They had just two days before they could say farewell to the mountains and join the main road when Daine found herself sick after breakfast. The subtle nausea that had waxed and waned during their journey had finally overwhelmed her. Even after she had emptied the contents of her stomach her insides rolled unpleasantly. Daine kicked dirt over the mess and wiped her mouth on the hem of her mud-stained tunic and cursed loudly, a numb panic washing over her as realization set in. Ma would knock her silly if she knew—a midwife’s daughter taking so long to put the pieces together.
She pulled the chain at her neck from underneath her shirt. Both the badger claw and the goddess circle were there. She ran her thumb over the gold of the circle, trying to think of a time when she had removed it. Thinking of none she inspected the charm—there is was. A tiny crack marred the smooth surface, so slight that you wouldn’t feel it by touch but there nonetheless. Daine made her way back to camp, cursing under her breath.
Numair stood when he saw her, stowing his journal in Spot’s pack.
“Ready to go?” He seemed eager to set out, and not in the mood for talking so early in the day. Daine nodded, lost in thought. They day was a quiet one. Numair tried to make conversation, finally becoming vexed when he realized that Daine had stopped paying attention for the third time.
“Fine,” he huffed quietly, drawing Spot’s back so that he rode behind her.
Daine continued to stew through dinner, becoming sick again afterwards. Eventually she sighed—not able to shake her ma’s voice urging her of what needed to be done. She pulled a map from Numair’s pack and located the closest village large enough to have a healer worth their salt.
“We need to go to town.” She replied, when Numair questioned her. She hoped against better odds that he wouldn’t press the reason but luck did not appear to be on her side.
“That’s three days out of the way, Daine.” He sighed, obviously not wanting to entertain the idea. “Why?”
“We need supplies,” she put the map down, staring into the fire. She could feel Numair studying her from across the flames.
“We have supplies, Daine. We have enough from the Ogres to get us back to Corus—which is where we need to be headed.” He was vexed and she knew it. Their journey hadn’t just taken a toll on her. “We head home.” His tone made it clear that he wanted no argument from her. He used it rarely, but when he did she usually listened. Usually.
“I disagree.” She met his eyes, challenging him. He sighed, running a long finger along the arch of his nose.
“You’re going to need to give me a better answer.” He said after a pause. His tone was as steadfast as her own. She sighed, knowing she would have to tell him eventually—she just wasn’t ready yet. She didn’t want to see his disappointment when her own was already more than she could bear.
“I need a healer.” She was studying her nail beds but saw the man sit up straighter from the corner of her eye.
“Are you hurt?” Concern replaced any previous annoyance. She didn’t answer, willing her hands to stop shaking, and he pressed further, “Daine, if you’re hurt you need to tell me.”
“I’m not hurt,” she replied quickly, wanting to put his mind at ease. “I,” she broke off, voice cracking. She took a moment to collect herself and cleared the lump in her throat, “I’m pregnant. I think.” Her voice was barely above a whisper and she could not bring herself to raise her eyes, to look at him—too afraid to see his expression. The silence pressed in on the clearing, interrupted only by the rustling of Numair’s clothes as he moved.
Suddenly, Daine was pulled to her feet and wrapped tightly in Numair’s arms. Daine felt herself break down into tears, clutching him tightly, overwhelmed by the emotion overtaking her. Numair murmured to her softly and stroked her hair. After a long moment he lowered them to sit, keeping Daine wrapped firmly in his embrace. She cried for what seemed like ages—all the emotions from the past day that she had not allowed herself to feel consuming her. When she had calmed down enough to form complete words she pulled away to look at her friends face, making sure not to break contact any more than she had to.
“I’m sorry,” she hiccupped.
“What for?” Numair pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping her tear-stained face.
“You must be so disappointed in me,” she choked back another sob and he pulled her back to him, rubbing her back.
“No, magelet. I’m not disappointed.” He released her and handed the handkerchief over. “A little surprised, I suppose.”
“You and me both.” She blew her nose and he laughed, tightly.
“I suppose you understand how this came about.” She paused at his question before noticing the smirk on his face.
“Are you really joking about this?” Her mouth fell open and he held his hands up in defense.
“I’m sorry, it’s still sinking in. I just couldn’t pass up a chance to remind Sara’s daughter of the basic facts.” He referred back to a conversation that had taken place when she was nearly fourteen. She had laughed herself silly when he had tried to make sure she was ‘properly educated in the details of being a woman’ as he had so charmingly put it. She would bet good money that Alanna had tricked him into it.
“And yes, I know how it happened.” She pulled the goddess circle from its chain and handed it to Numair who turned it over in his long fingers, inspecting it in the firelight. He stopped and hissed when he saw the crack.
“Hag’s Bones.” He was talking more to himself than to her. “What backwater, no sense, waste-of-” He sighed, handing it back to Daine. “That,” he motioned to the offending crack, “should not have happened. Though I suppose yours may see more wear and tear than that of your average lady at court.” He blushed when he saw her raised eyebrow. “I meant because of your lifestyle, not…” He broke off, the blush spreading more deeply across his swarthy cheeks. “I could have spelled you a stronger one, or done something to protect that one from damage. I just hadn’t thought…” He broke off again, rubbing his face with a large hand.
“Hadn’t thought?” Daine pressed, wondering if his blush was becoming a permanent feature.
“I didn’t know what you were—” He waved his hand in the air, embellishing what he was apparently uncomfortable voicing.
“Canoodling? Having sex?” She supplied and he hung his head, shaking it.
“Yes, that. Unless you have any more charming euphemisms to provide?” She shook her head and he sighed. “I guess I just thought I would know.” She shrugged, grabbing a stick and stoking the fire. It flared to life as she turned his comment over in her mind. He seemed bothered more by the idea of her laying with a man than of her being with child out of wedlock.
“We don’t really talk about that sort of thing,” she supplied, shrugging.
“You’re right, and that’s probably my fault.” His words were slow, careful. “I obviously seem to have difficulty talking about—”
“Sex.” She supplied before correcting herself, “I’m sorry, I think you meant canoodling was the more charming choice” She smirked, amused by herself.
“Yes, that.” Numair replied dryly. “I seem to have a hard time talking about that with you.”
“You don’t seem to have a problem having it.” She said frankly and Numair spluttered. “I’m sorry, that was not very tactful. What I meant was that you regularly pursue your own affairs—I had assumed that you knew I also pursued my own without us needing to talk about it.”
“I knew you had suitors I just didn’t know you canoodled with them.” It seemed to take actual physical effort for him to form the word. “And I don’t know if I would say I ‘regularly pursue affairs’. I prefer to keep my private life private.” He was taken aback at her burst of laughter.
“Oh, you’re serious.” Daine looked at him sheepishly. “I’m sorry, I just always assumed it didn’t matter much to you what other’s thought of your relationships.” She bit her lip, pressing further, “And I’m not sure what you’re definition of regularly is but I think it’s safe to say you haven’t been caught in any droughts, Master Mage.”
“Even going back,” she paused, holding up a hand to count on, “let’s say five years. There was Varice in Carthak,” she made a face at the name, “Lady Lorin the winter after, and I think maybe before as well, Elzabeta the following Fall, Lady Sandris by Midwinter of that year, Lady Lorin again—” She was halted by Numair’s hand, an unspoken plea to be silent.
“Please stop,” he was pale and cleared his throat weakly. “Please don’t continue that list. I had not realized how,” he searched for the word, “thoroughly you keep track of my affairs.” He was obviously embarrassed and she took pity on him, grasping his hand in her own.
“It’s not that hard to notice when we spend as much time together as we do,” she said gently, trying to ease his embarrassment. “I’m sure you could list off any of the men who have pursued me in the last few years—maybe even a few who didn’t.” He laughed at this, agreeing.
“And I don’t sleep with all of them,” she said sourly, “but I’m not completely sure why you would think that I don’t sleep with any. Your own actions would imply that you don’t believe sex is something that should only be enjoyed by married couples.”
“You’re right,” he met her eyes now. “I don’t believe that. I just want you to have better.”
“Better than what? Better than being able to have control over my own private life?”
“Better than men like me.” The pain in his eyes took her by surprise. “Better than men who take no issue with enjoying a woman in their bed without any intention of making a commitment by her.” It was her turn to blush now, she was not used to Numair being so frank about his own experiences. She waved him off.
“There are no better men than you, Numair.” If she had been looking at him she would have seen his expression soften, touched by her words. “Besides, I wasn’t exactly looking for a commitment either. Although it looks like I have one anyway.” She placed her hand on her stomach, her attention drawn away from their tangent. Numair sighed and slowly, giving her time to object, brought his hand to cover her own.
“I’ll need to send a report to Jon explaining that we have been delayed again. I will find an excuse,” he elaborated at Daine’s panicked look. “Do you want to send word to the father?” He asked quietly. She was thankful that he didn’t ask if she knew who the father was. It’s the first question she was expecting from most people—whether to her face or behind her back.
“Oh, he’s probably still busy rolling around in the hay with his new friend. I doubt he’ll have time to read letters.” She said sourly and, at Numair’s questioning look, explained what had happened the morning they left. Numair sighed, and pulled her in to lean on his shoulder.
“Well, that explains your mood anyway. I thought I had done something to make you cross.” He kissed her hair, and she laughed and felt tears forming in her eyes once more.
“No, I’m sorry I took it out on you. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to keep seeing him but it still stung.”
“It always does.” She looked up at him and he offered a half-smile, “Lady Lorin—it’s like a bad play where you know the ending but you keep buying tickets anyway.” She laughed until she had to wipe tears from her eyes—or maybe she was crying. She couldn’t tell anymore.
“I would rather wait until we are home to speak with him,” she said finally. “When I’ve had more time to figure out what I am going to do.”
“If he proposes?” Numair scuffed his boot in the dirt. He did not seem thrilled with the idea.
“I won’t give him the chance.” She said firmly. “I have no interest in marrying him. I’d rather—” She choked, tongue thick in her mouth. “I’d rather have a bastard.” She fought back a new wave of tears at the word. Silence lingered between them and Numair squeezed her shoulder, doing what he could to comfort her.
“Dainesri.” She turned the name over in her mouth and blanched, “No, Veralidainesri. Mithros, so many bad sounds in a row. The first name is going to have to be short.” Numair chuckled.
“I’m sorry, it’s not funny.” He smiled sheepishly. “Don’t use –sri.” He shrugged, “You aren’t in Galla anymore.”
“And use what? Keep it Sarrasri? Same effect.” She pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on them.
“Daine, you are hardly a traditional woman. I don’t know why you feel compelled to follow convention in this instance. The child is already going to have gods as grandparents, a dragon for a sister and a mother who spend half of her time performing deeds that bards write ballads about.”
“Used to, you mean,” Daine grumbled. “By the time the baby arrives I will be a woman who used to do those things.”
“Why?” Numair’s brows snapped together.
“I’ll be raising a child on my own, Numair. How will I carry on this life?” She shrugged, her eyes over bright. She loved her life and had worked hard to create it—and now it was all over.
“Alanna does.” He said simply.
“Alanna has a household full of people to help and a husband. Besides,” she turned her head to look at him, “we both know that she’s the exception.” She sighed, looking forward once more.
“I liked talking about names better. It wasn’t quite as sad. What would you suggest the little ones last name be?” She asked, drawing circles in the dirt with her boot. When he did not answer she sat up straight and turned to him. “Numair?” He was studying her, thoughtfully, as though we was searching for something. Eventually he took a deep breath, clasping his hands in front of him.
“Salmalin.”
“I know you’re proud of the name you created, Numair,” she rolled her eyes, “but that doesn’t mean you should give it to everything.” She almost laughed when the look on his face stopped her.
“Daine,” he whispered.
“Numair,” she cut him off, “You know I can’t let you do that.”
“Just hear me out.” He put up a hand before she could cut him off again. “There have been rumors about us for years—no one will think twice if we say the child is mine. Any of those closest to us who suspect the truth, well, I think they would keep our confidence.” He paused, blushing. “We’re a team, Daine. To be honest I would think of any child you have as mine in a way.” He looked away, “Maybe it will just be in the role of father instead of eccentric uncle.” She laughed at this, not able to stop herself from picturing Numair coddling an infant. “Your child would have a father, one who would treat them as their own.”
Daine was crying in earnest now, quiet tears streaming down her face. She leaned over and wrapped her arms around the man, falling against his chest. He released the breath he had been holding and returned the embrace.
“If you prefer I can claim the child without us formalizing a union,” he said softly, stroking her hair. “I understand if you want to keep your options open but if you would accept,” he paused, his voice becoming quiet. “If you would have me there is a temple in the village. We could return to Corus married. Depending on how far along you are I suspect there may not even be many questions about the timing.”
“You would do that?” Her mind was reeling now. “Surely you want to marry for yourself.” There was a long silence and Numair kissed her hair.
“I would not offer if I did not think it was a feasible option, or that I could not be happy.” She sighed into his arms, suddenly feeling tired. Could she be happy married to Numair? She has happy with him now and she enjoyed being in his arms. She felt herself falling asleep, and nestled more snugly into his chest.
“You know I can’t let you do that.” She rubbed her nose in the chest hair peeking from the V in his shirt. He tightened his embrace.
“Just think on it. We can discuss details later, we have a few days still.” He continued to stroke her hair until he realized she had fallen asleep. He carried her to his bedroll, putting her own on top of his for extra warmth, and fell asleep cradling her against him.
They made good time to the village, though they took more breaks than Daine would have liked and Numair fretted over her constantly. He would not let her cook, or clean let alone do much else. She was on strict orders to rest and get to bed early. She kept to her own bedroll after the first night, though Numair did not comment on it. Numair made sure to make it clear that his offer stood—even revealing that he had thought of a plan for where they could put a nursery in his tower. He almost seemed excited. She let him carry on with his enthusiasm as it lifted both of their moods to stay in his happy fantasy.
They arrived mid-morning, bringing their mounts to the Inn. Daine felt anxious, wishing that today was over and done with. Pretty soon it would all be so much more real. Despite her nerves she offered to groom the horses while Numair checked them in.
“Do you want me to come with you?” He asked, placing a hand on hers.
“I think I’d like to go on my own if that’s alright. I have some thinking to do.” She hope she hadn’t hurt his feelings. He squeezed her hand and nodded.
“That’s alright, I have some things I need to attend to. I’ll handle things here—you go on ahead.” When she hesitated he urged her on. “Go, I will make sure there is food in my room for when you return.”
She set off out of the courtyard. The streets were bustling with the signature steady beat of small-town life. At Numair’s persistence she had given more thought to his offer. Despite her determination that she would not accept the more she thought about it the more she was tempted to say yes. Like him, she could see herself being happy in the life he proposed. Ultimately, though, she knew that it would not be fair. She could not expect him to sacrifice the rest of his life for her mistake. Not to mention what they would do when he, or she, wanted to take a lover. Despite his grumbling to the contrary he was a young man with needs and desires. She surely did not expect him to be celibate. She realized that they had talked of marriage in regards to parenting, but not in terms of man and wife.
Did he expect that they would carry out affairs discreetly? It would certainly not be the first time a couple made that arrangement. Did he anticipate that they would share a bed? Her stomach fluttered at the thought, and she felt herself blush and pushed the thought from her mind. Thoughts like that had already gotten her into quite enough trouble.
She found herself at the healer’s house and let herself in, bells hung across the doorframe ringing gently.
“Welcome,” A plump, pleasant looking woman with coppery hair tied back with a scarf appeared from another room. “How can I help you?” Daine tried to answer but found her throat dry. She cleared it and tried again.
“I think I may be pregnant.” Her voice was shaky.
“Well let’s find out, young one.” The healer said kindly, ushering her into a back room. She motioned for Daine to sit on a daybed piled with soft looking blankets and took a seat across from her. “Hands, please.” She held out her own and Daine complied. She saw the woman glance at her fingers, bare of any rings and looked down, blushing. “Hush, child. If babies only happened after a wedding night I would be out half of my business. Now stay still.”
Daine felt the woman’s magic, pale orange fire, flow into her. It seemed to take forever, Daine trying to stop from fidgeting the entire time, before the healer broke the connection and released Daine’s hands with a quick squeeze.
The older woman clasped her hands in her lap and looked at Daine with kind eyes.
“You’re not pregnant.” She smiled before sighing, “But you are sick, and it’s good you came.” Daine barely heard the last statement, reeling from the first. She let out a breath she felt she had been holding for days and laughed, elated.
“I’m sorry, I’m not pregnant?” She had to confirm, hoping she had not just heard what she wanted.
“You are not with child. You’re relieved?” She nodded.
“I was so sure.” Daine wiped a watery eye, “My mas was a midwife and she made sure I knew the signs.” The healer laughed.
“Ah, I see. They are good to know for sure, but it’s also common for a woman who knows the signs to connect ones that don’t need connecting. You aren’t the first to jump to conclusions but you did the right thing by coming to me. That being said, keeping your wall manned is better than dealing with an enemy that’s already broken down the gate.” She raised her eyebrows and Daine sighed, pulling her circle from her pouch. She handed it over and the healer clicked her tongue at the crack.
“Well, the good news is that a little crack like this shouldn’t affect whether or not it works. The chances are very small. You’ll be wanting a new one anyway, just in case?” Daine nodded and the woman fetched a pouch from a drawer, drawing a shiny new circle from it and handing it to Daine who slid it back onto her chain. She reached into her pouch to pay for the charm and was surprised to find two gold crowns that had not been there the night before. Numair, she thought with amusement. She gave one of the gold crowns to the healer who looked surprised but accepted it without comment. As far as Daine was concerned no price was too high for the weight that had been taken of her shoulders.
“Wait, you said I was sick?” Daine asked, suddenly remembering the healer’s words.
“Relax, you’ll be fine but I’m sorry to say that it won’t be fun. Have you heard of grey fever?” Daine shook her head, “Have you been in the mountains?” She eyed Daine’s mud stained breeches and the younger woman blushed and nodded, suddenly realizing how filthy she was for the first time in days. “It’s a nasty fever that starts out slow while it lays its roots. It’s common this time of the year with all of the rain and damp. You’re about to hit the worst of it I’m afraid, but it’s best to let it burn itself out.” She got up and began plucking herbs from satchels hanging along the wall.
“I’m going to make you a draught. You’re to drink it when you get back and go right to bed. You’re at The Gilded Lilly?” Daine nodded “I will stop by tomorrow and every day after until you are well to bring you a new draught and get you through the worst of it. You’ll sleep mostly, and you’ll not be coherent come tomorrow, but three or four days and you will feel like a new person.”
Daine accepted the draught and left. The healing woman would not accept additional payment. She had to stop herself from skipping all the way back to the Inn. Despite the nausea and aches that still persisted she felt better than she had in weeks.
Arriving back at the Inn she got directions to her room, setting the draught on a small table next to her bed. The healer was very adamant that she go right to bed but she wanted to talk to Numair first, and to have a bath. A knock came from the adjoining room and the door swung open to reveal Numair. From his anxious look and how quickly he had appeared she knew he must have been listening for her. He was looking at her expectantly and fiddling with something in his hand. She made no comment on the fact that he had not asked for the adjoining door to be locked as was his usual practice. Daine smiled and practically leaped across the room, hitting him hard and hugging him tightly. He stumbled back into his own room and laughed, surprised. She pulled away, taking a deep breath.
“I’m not pregnant.” Saying it was like taking a deep breath of air after being underwater.
“Oh,” he said, clearly surprised, “That’s wonderful.” His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes but she didn’t have time to dwell on it before he embraced her again. “I am very pleased for you, magelet.” They lingered in the embrace for a long moment before he pulled away, creating space between them and guided her to a plushy chair in the corner, motioning to a plate with some bread and cheese on it.
“I can ask for soup as well, if you’d like.” He sank into a chair across from her, suddenly looking tired.
“What’s that?” Daine mumbled through a mouth half full of bread and motioned to the object he still fiddled with. He blushed a brilliant shade of red and moved to put it in his pocket.
“Nothing.” He mumbled. Daine rolled her eyes.
“Mouse manure. Are you really worried about being embarrassed? I think I’ve made a fool enough of myself for the both of us.” She swallowed hard, washing it down with a large gulp of water and quickly regretted it as her stomach rolled unpleasantly. Numair sighed and opened his palm. Her breath caught and she found that she could still make herself more foolish. A silver band accented in sapphires lay in his open palm, the work was simpler than what you could find in the capital but it was beautiful nonetheless. It was a popular style to be gifted when confirming a betrothal. She sighed and looked at Numair, who was doing his best to avoid her gaze.
“I meant what I said you know,” she smiled at his confused expression. “There are no men better than you.” He smiled at that and put the ring in his pocket.
“I just thought I should be prepared.” He mumbled, toying with the hem of his shirt.
“You’re too good to me. You’re going to make an amazing husband and da one day, Numair.” She leaned over and took his hand, squeezing it gently. “With the woman you want to be with.” She held his hand for a moment longer before leaning back. Numair looked embarrassed but thoughtful. Suddenly, his brows knitted.
“Wait, you’re not pregnant but you were sick…”he trailed off, waiting for her explanation.
“Oh,” she nodded, “Yes, I have something called grey fever. I have a draught in my room I am supposed to take and go right to bed. The healer said I will be down for the better part of a week and might become delirious.” She nibbled on a piece of cheese as Numair jumped up.
“Mithros, Daine. You need to be in bed.” He was pulling her up before she could even put the cheese down.
“I will do no such thing until I get a bath.” She said bluntly, realizing what she must smell like.
“I’ve already had one drawn. I know you like your bath right away, your highness,” he smirked. She didn’t comment on the fact that he was already bathed and smelling of soap. “Call when you are out, or if you need help, and I will make sure you’re squared away.” He ushered her into her room where she saw that there was, in fact, a tub full of water waiting for her, bits of black fire around it told her Numair had been keeping it warm for her. Hearing the door close behind her she breathed deeply and began to shed her travel worn clothing.
Two nights later Numair sat next to Daine’s bed, one eye on the book in his lap and the other on the sweating form of his friend who was sleeping restlessly. The fever had hit in full force the night prior and she had been alternating between a dead sleep and delirium since. The healer said that she was doing just fine but he could not help but worry, refusing to leave her side for any longer than was absolutely necessary.
When she began to mumble he closed the book and scooted his chair closer to the bed. Every few hours she tried to speak, worried about some crises or another for which he tried to waylay her fears. So far there had been a stormwing attack, a Kraken in the kitchen and something about Kitten and a feathered mongoose he hadn’t quite been able to piece together.
“Baby…” Daine muttered and Numair felt a dull pang in his chest. He hushed her, smoothing damp curls away from her forehead.
“Hush, sweetling. You’re not pregnant, remember?” He felt guilty for his disappointment.
“Good.” She said, letting out a ragged breath. She mumbled something, giggling to herself. He smirked. At least she was enjoying herself.
“What was that?” He leaned in again, turning his ear towards her dry lips.
“Good. If I have babies I want your babies.” She giggled, wildly, again before falling still once more. Her breath becoming steady and her sleep becoming deep once more. Numair was frozen in place for several long moments before sitting back, his hand tugging at the end of his nose. The reasonable side of his mind reminded him that she was delirious and likely didn’t even recognize him. The other side though, the hopeful side—he shook his head and pulled the sapphire ring from his pocket. He turned it over in his fingers. He had thought to keep it, just in case. Thinking better of it he vowed to bring it back to the jeweler when Daine was well. He would have something custom made when they returned home.
Maybe once we'd have seen it during Smackdown!