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"What's wrong, love? That stupid dream again? The one where you stab me? In Cintra, on the emperor's orders?"
Cahir nods, still too shaken to answer.
"Come here, you're trembling." The Gallatin wraps his arm around Cahir and pulls him closer. Taking a deep breath, the young knight closes his eyes and leans into him. The elf feels safe and warm and wonderfully alive.
"I wonder, would you have done it?" Gallatin asks eventually when Cahir has calmed down in his embrace.
"I- I don't know," he says, looking his elven lover in the eye. "I hope I wouldn't have. But I can't be sure. That's the worst of it. Emhyr could be very convincing, and I- I was so stupid."
"Was?" Gallatin laughs. "You still are, admit it. Stupidly in love."
"Mmh, you might be right. Falling in love with an old, ugly, arrogant prick like you is probably the stupidest thing I've ever done. And don't get me started on those ridiculously pointy ears of yours."
"Bold. You blunt-eared bastards are blind to true beauty. Savages, the whole fucking lot of you." Gallatin pokes Cahir in the ribs. Then he plants a big kiss on his lover's lips. "Good thing we never made it to Cintra, my stupid human. Who knows what would have happened if we hadn't run into Fringilla in the woods? My corpse might be rotting away in an unmarked grave and you'd probably be off on a totally harebrained and ridiculously dangerous mission, risking your life for that sacred White Flame of yours. Again. Who'd have thought that, one day, I'd have to thank Fringilla not only for saving your life back in Nazair, but also for saving mine? Maybe I should send her a present?"
"We should send her a present," Cahir says, wriggling out of Gallatin's arms and making to get up. "And I already know what."
"Now?" Gallatin tries to pull Cahir back into bed. "It's the middle of the night!"
"Perhaps for you, slugabed. Other people are already working."
And, although it is still dark outside, Cahir is right. From downstairs, Gallatin can hear the faint sounds of the innkeeper and his wife bustling about in the kitchen, probably preparing breakfast for their guests, and the clip-clop of a horse carriage on the cobbled street below their window. Another noble guest for the Duchess Anna Henrietta's Yule celebrations? Beauclair Castle must be teeming with counts and countesses and barons and baronesses and their assembled families by now. How lucky that his count boyfriend is not invited. Being a wanted deserter is not much of a problem in Toussaint with the inhabitants of the fairytale duchy abhorring war in general and finding it only natural that one would abscond from such bestiality. However, as the Duchess is not only related to Fringilla somehow, but also to Emhyr var Emreis, everybody agreed that it would be better for Cahir and Gallatin to keep a low profile and stay away from the palace. Which is totally fine with them.
"You stay in bed, I'll be back," Cahir adds and gets up. As quickly as he can, he puts some clothes on. It is cold in their room, the fire in the fireplace not yet lit. Only the stump of a candle on the nightstand provides a little light. He blows Gallatin a kiss, then he disappears.
Gallatin sighs. Without Cahir, the bed feels cold despite the woollen blankets. Should he get up and light the fire? Or should he just hope that his lover will not be gone for long and that they can warm each other in a very different way soon? He contemplates the question for a while. Then, when the first rays of morning sun shine through the east-facing window into their room and he is just about to stand up, the door opens. Cahir is back, a box in his arms. The box gives off soft, whimpering noises. Cahir puts the box on the bed and lifts the lid. A small, pitch-black, furry head with big, round eyes appears.
"One of the innkeeper's puppies?" Gallatin asks, doubtful. "Don't all sorceresses prefer cats?" The puppy is super cute, no question there, and it looks even cuter when Cahir lifts it out of the box, cradles it to his chest and begins to run his fingers through the fluffy black fur. But is it a good gift for Fringilla?
"Cats always remind Fringilla of something she does not want to be reminded of. It appears she froze the neighbour's cat when first her chaos showed itself, and she has been uneasy around the animals ever since. But I'm pretty sure she'll love this little girl here. She's as black and wild as Fringilla. Look!"
Only now does Gallatin see the tear in the shirt Cahir is wearing, and a small blood-stain.
"The little rascal bit you?" Gallatin laughs. "Well, I'd probably do the same if you stuffed me into a box. By the way, that's my shirt."
"Sorry about that. It was on my side of the bed."
"Aye, it was, because I was there too." Gallatin grins, recalling their activities of the previous evening. Very enjoyable activities. Cahir flushes bright red. He looks adorable like this. "What about you come back to bed for a while. We don't have any plans for the day, do we?" Gallatin asks with a wink.
"Maybe you don't have plans. But I do. Sorry. This puppy-girl here needs a nice, red ribbon for her black curls and I'll have to write a thank you card to Fringilla. Plus, the box is too ugly for this little princess here, it needs some nice decorations and a soft pillow to make it more comfortable. She's probably hungry, too, and then I'll have to take her up to the castle—"
"Alright, that's enough. You, Cahir, are an insufferable busybody." Gallatin points an accusing finger at his lover. "I'm getting up. You go find whatever you need, and I'll feed the pup and write that card. And when we're done, we'll go to the castle together. How does that sound?"
"Sounds like we'll be done pretty quickly. And with no plans after that—" Cahir grins at Gallatin meaningfully.
"Perhaps you aren't quite as stupid as I thought," Gallatin says, grinning even more broadly than his lover. "Now give her to me and get going. The sooner you're back, the better."
A little reluctant to let go of the fluffy little creature that has snuggled up comfortably against his chest, Cahir passes the puppy to Gallatin. "Take good care of her. She's really only a baby."
"Just like you then," the elf laughs. And he is not entirely wrong. Compared to the many years he has lived, Cahir is still unbelievably young, a mere whelp. He cradles the little fluff ball against his shirtless torso and gazes after his human lover as he exits their room.
Yes, Fringilla will surely be over the moon to get this little darling baby as a gift, red bow and all. And she deserves it. But maybe they should get themselves a puppy too? It would be a nice Yule present for Cahir. The black pup was not the only one in the litter, was it?