Chapter Text
There was a long, tortuous pause, and Krista began to frown. Faendal blinked at the expression, his stomach tightening into complicated knots. Moments passed, the knots tangled, and he felt the urge to flee. It never went easy, did it? The anxiety of the displaced. But…but if he had said something wrong, he’d just—
“If—”
His thoughts jumbled to a stop and lay there twitching in tense little heaps. He waited for Krista to finish. And he waited, and waited, but she didn’t continue. She just sat there and frowned. “…If?” he urged.
She startled at his voice. She looked up, then down, then buried her face in her hands. “Is telling you the only way?”
He winced at the hollowness in her voice. What in Oblivion was he thinking? Of course she wouldn’t want to relive whatever shame this fellow had inflicted. “No,” he assured her hastily. “Forget I asked. You decide, I’ll back you up.”
She opened her fingers and peeped an eye through work-worn hands. “You’d do that?”
Oh, this was just unfair. His heart twisted and raced and soared and plummeted and he wanted to kiss and bed her immediately. “I would,” he said, shifting in his seat a bit. “Just don’t get me cursed.”
Krista dropped her hands. “By gods or men?”
“By gods, you absolute goose!” He laughed.
The girl’s shoulders relaxed, and a nasty smile crept into her frown. That’s more like it, he thought.
“It’s gonna hurt.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
She sprang up and leaned in, and suddenly his vision was filled with the roundness of her face. Intense blue eyes in sun-worn skin, snowberries on her lips and apples on her breath, he wanted to seize them, to—
“Faendal.”
“Hm?”
“Focus.”
He pulled his attention from her mouth and cleared his throat. “Care to fill me in?”
“It is a very dastardly plan.”
Dastardly, even. Curiosity slowly won over his cock, and he reached to brush a bit of hair from her face. He waited for her cheeks to match her lips, then hooked the hair behind her ear. “I said I’d help, didn’t I?” He caught her eyes and gently held them. They wavered a bit and looked away.
“Are too brave,” she mumbled.
He smiled at her flustered tone, but as usual he had no idea what she was talking about. “What’s brave?”
“Elves,” she said, raising her voice a bit. “My brothers said they’re cowards who hide behind tricks and magic.”
“Well, they're idiot Nords.”
Krista laughed and spun around. “Aye, they are. Said it for years.” She tentatively extended a hand, and he reached out and drew her in.
“Sit,” he said as she landed next to him. “Tell me this plan.”
She settled comfortably at his side—or as comfortably as the rock would allow, which took some finagling on her part. He shifted to give her some of the smoother side, wishing she had sat on him instead. But his heart had started to race the moment their shoulders touched, so it was probably a good thing it didn’t also have to field her ass. He focused his attention on the cute little plant poking its face between his boots. It was green, and leafy, and some kind of green…
“Have you heard of guest-honor?” she asked, leaning on him.
A kind of clover, maybe. “A little,” he said, shifting again. Green clover was green.
“There’s an old belief that a host—or hostess—assumes the honor of their guest, and whoever pricks the honor of their guest, also pricks theirs.”
“Aha,” he said as though he’d discovered something new…but he was fairly certain the clover was always green. “You want me to provoke him?”
Krista threw back her head and cackled like a hag. Wherever had she learned to laugh like that? He kind of liked it. “I’m going to invite you, and him, and his friends to dinner. Act like you…” her words slowed a bit, and she turned her face away. “Act like you’re fucking me, you know. Like we’re—“
“Courting?” he supplied.
“I mean…“
“Ahh, you want a more mindless display. Circling, like a rutting stag.”
“Yes! Just like that. He’s stupid like a moon-brain, ball-sore stag. He’ll want to fight you for sure. Because…you know, he used to—“
“It’s alright,” he said hastily, pressing a shoulder into hers. He really did not want to hear about some guy’s thing while his was still swollen. “But I don’t understand how it’s going to hurt. Won't it be funny?”
“H-how? He’s going to pummel you. With his fists.”
“Oh, darling.” Faendal smiled, feeling a bit evil, himself. “He’ll have to catch me first.”