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[color=808080][color=42557d][b]#42557d[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c].....[/color] [url=https://imgur.com/sf68EUt][color=808080][b]outfit[/b][/color][/url] [color=2e2c2c]...............[/color] [color=b5c7eb][b]#b5c7eb[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c].....[/color] [url=https://imgur.com/Y1m8Bpm][color=808080][b]outfit[/b][/color][/url] [color=2e2c2c]...............[/color] [b]guard's barracks[/b][/color]
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[indent][indent][indent][indent][justify][color=808080]The descent down the side of the mountain was peaceful. The wind sang a quiet tune as it whistled along the crags and down into the ravine. Gravel crunched beneath the soles of their boots, lost beneath light conversation and the rising bustle from the city below. Declan asked about Ironcrag, the land, its people, anything Lei was willing to share as his only glimpse into a land far out of reach, while also secretly clinging to the thought of ice and snow as his only respite under the oppressive sun. 

The Valley of Kings was [i]alive[/i] as if the relentless heat and cloudless sky was something to cherish and celebrate, not melt beneath in a puddle of sweat and fatigue. There was a constant murmur that was carried by the breeze as it slipped between shops and rustled the canopies over small market stalls. No one whispered or carried on in private. They sang and laughed and shouted toward a loved one across the square. The cacophony of frivolity could be heard from every corner of the town like nonsensical tendrils that pulled every soul to The Weave. 

Dozens of boats were docked and moored along the shore of the Bramble Weave, some no more than simple fisherman’s boats while others held the distinct air of nobility. The shore was bursting at its seams, every inch of rocky white sand covered with bare feet and wiggling toes seeking the cool comforts of the mountain river. Children screamed and played in the shallows of the Weave, while parents stood ankle deep, laughing and splashing them in turn. Guardsmen, nobles, and commoners alike were all equals in the gentle current of the crystal blue waters, finding common ground in the chill of the waters and the revelry of the Summer Solstice. 

Declan couldn’t help but smile as a warmth built in his chest, not from the heaviness of summer in the air, but the camaraderie amongst the people. There were many reasons why he served: his father, his family, duty, honor… But they all paled in comparison to the spectacle that played out before him. His father’s war was for the people and while he inherited many things from his father, he also shared the same love and steadfast loyalty for their people. 

The Captain’s gaze drifted to the Weave loggingly, left hand lazily resting upon the pommel of his sword. He tilted his head toward his traveling companion as a glint sparkled in his eyes and a childlike grin curved into the recesses of his beard. [color=42557d]"We can spare a moment for a bit of relief."[/color]

The warmth of the valley pressed close against her collarbones, slicking the hollow of her throat beneath the loose wrap of her shirt, but Soleil kept her stride even and unbothered as they descended toward the Weave. Declan’s easy questions had been a welcome distraction from the heat, and she’d answered each one with the measured cadence she’d perfected over the past year. A man’s voice wore the answers, steady and sure, though beneath the surface she felt each memory of Ironcrag like a pressure point. The cliffs, the ice, the walls she’d slipped between like smoke—she let those recollections color her tone without ever letting them claim it. Let him see the land. Not the girl who had run from it.

The land grew louder the closer they came, its revelry rising like heatwaves from stone streets and sun-warmed bodies. Lei watched it through the half-lidded calm she’d learned to feign, her expression the picture of composed indifference though the sudden swell of life tugged at something deeper. Children shrieked in the shallows; mothers and soldiers alike waded into the crystalline blue in equal measure; even the nobles cast off decorum like unwanted cloaks in favor of cool reprieve. It was strange, she thought, how free these people were with their joy. How fearlessly they occupied their own skin. Ironcrag had never allowed for such ease. Ironcrag had never allowed anything this… warm.

Declan’s own warmth beside her radiated outward, a hum of good spirit she could feel even without looking at him. But she did look, just in time to catch the playful spark in his eyes, the crooked grin buried somewhere in the rough lines of his beard as he gestured toward the water.

Lei rolled her shoulders back in a gesture that passed well enough for masculine nonchalance, though inside she felt the sharp pinch of caution slip beneath her ribs. Relief. For him, that meant stripping down, plunging into the blue with nothing but the sun marking his skin. For her… it meant remembering every boundary she could not cross. Every layer she could not shed.

Still, she stepped toward the riverbank with a quiet huff that could be mistaken for good-natured reluctance. [color=b5c7eb]“A moment won’t hurt,”[/color] she answered, voice pitched low, controlled, bearing just enough roughness to sound like a young man indulging an older captain’s whim. [color=b5c7eb]“Gods know I’ll melt into my boots if we stay on the road much longer.”[/color]

She crouched at the sandy white edge, fingers slipping to the laces of her boots. The heat had seeped through every seam of her clothing, laying heavy as molten ore along her spine, and the thought of cold river water did tug at her despite herself. She peeled one boot free, then the other, setting them neatly beside her before rolling her trouser cuffs to her shins. Her palms brushed the sun-warmed skin there—a reminder of the lie she wore, the disguise she had bled for, the future she was still clawing her way toward. When she finally dipped her feet into the Weave, the shock of cold shot up her legs like an exhale made of snow. She felt the mountains for a heartbeat. Felt [i]home,[/i] in the smallest way that did not hurt.

She leaned back on her hands, letting the river swirl between her toes as if she were a man with nothing to hide, nothing to lose. [color=b5c7eb]“Ironcrag’s rivers aren’t so different,”[/color] she said lightly, continuing the thread of their earlier conversation as if it had never been broken. [color=b5c7eb]“Though you’d lose your toes if you stood in them too long. Water’s colder up north. Harsher. Like everything else.”[/color] A faint smile touched the corner of her mouth—subtle, wry, safe. [color=b5c7eb]“Can’t say I miss that part.”[/color]

She tilted her head just enough to glance at him, letting a rare note of dry humor slip into her borrowed voice. [color=b5c7eb]“But this? I’ll take. Even if you won’t get me any deeper than this.”[/color] And with the brightness of the sun on the water and the laughter rising like birdsong from every direction, Lei allowed herself, briefly, carefully, to enjoy the moment. To enjoy him beside her. Without letting him see too far beneath the surface.

The moment Lei conceded, Declan descended the rocky bank toward the crowded sands that hugged the Weave. It took an immense amount of control to not cave to his baser needs and dive head first into the blue ripples of the river that beckoned him closer. He wanted to desperately, but was also all too familiar with the torment that was walking around in wet clothing. Instead he settled for slipping out of his boots, holding one heel in place with the toe of the other as he wiggled free, then did the same with the other. Bare feet slipped beneath the rhythmic lull of the water, pulling a content sigh from his lips. 

He glanced over his shoulder down at Lei with a smile that appeared to have lost the smallest bit of its weighted burden with the receding tide. [color=42557d]"I wouldn’t let you drown,"[/color] Declan mused with a soft chuckle as the wind tousled his loose curls across his face. Even with the lightness of his joke, he knew that no words could sway the man. Lei was a private man, never swimming or bathing with the others, preferring his peace and solitude. There were silent questions that were posed, but none the Captain asked. Perhaps the man was bashful. [i]Perhaps…[/i]

Declan shook his head, brushing off the thought as his left hand reached behind his back. Calloused fingers wrapped around a spare bit of cloth tucked beneath his belt and the hem of his pants. After pulling it free, he leaned over and submerged the fabric into the Weave, letting it soak up as much of the cool water as possible before tossing it over his shoulder at Lei without warning. He chuckled as he watched the cloth hit the man square in the chest and splash excess water across his neck and face. [color=42557d]"You are fortunate that I am kind. The other men would likely toss you in,"[/color] he commented with a nod toward the river. 

For a heartbeat, she was nothing but stillness. His words—[i]I wouldn’t let you drown[/i]—landed with the soft weight of concern, yet they struck her like a stone dropped into deep water, rippling outward in every direction she could not afford. No one protected her anymore, not since she’d left home, not in any form of traditional way. No one could. The life she’d carved for herself depended on solitude, on vigilance, on the sharp edges of distance she kept between her and every man in the Guard. Yet something in his tone, in the easy certainty of it, startled her clean through, lodging beneath her ribs like a gasp she did not let surface. She lifted her gaze almost against her own will, and the world rearranged itself around the sight of him. The sun sat at his back, molten and unwavering, casting a burnished halo around the wild fall of his brown hair. Sweat shimmered along his bare forearms and the curve of his throat, his skin alive with heat and summer and unrestrained ease—so unlike the stone-carved severity of Ironcrag, so unlike the bleak, starved world she had known. He looked, in that impossible moment, like warmth made flesh, like a life she had never been permitted to want. And just standing there with his feet in the river, laughing breath on his lips, he stole the breath from her chest so swiftly she nearly forgot to breathe at all.

Then reality snapped back with the slap of wet cloth against her sternum. Lei jerked, a sharp, indignant sound ripping from her throat, something embarrassingly akin to a yowled hiss, like a cat scooped up without warning. Water splattered across her jaw and cheek, cold and shocking, and she blinked hard, the spell shattered as abruptly as it had begun. Her expression twisted into a scowl by instinct, but the corners of her mouth betrayed her, tugging upward with a reluctant, rueful grin she tried to smother beneath the guise of annoyance. [color=b5c7eb]“Warn a man, would you,”[/color] she muttered, voice pitched low, steady, as if her pulse weren’t hammering like a forge’s fire against her ribs. She caught the dripping cloth in one hand, fingers curling into its cool weight before lifting it to the back of her neck. The chill bled through her flushed skin, coaxing a slow exhale she didn’t realize she’d been holding.

She rolled her shoulders as though shaking off the surprise, letting her posture drift back into practiced ease, legs still submerged in the Weave’s soothing current. [color=b5c7eb]“If that’s your kindness,”[/color] she added, dry humor threading through her tone, [color=b5c7eb]“I dread to see what mercy looks like.”[/color] But her smile lingered, small, genuine, and she kept her gaze fixed on the water rather than risk looking at him again and feeling that impossible warmth flare back to life. For now, the river was cool, her secret intact, and the moment, brief, fragile, and feeling stolen, was hers to hold in silence.


[color=42557d]"[i]You,[/i]"[/color] Declan rebutted while pointing a finger back at the man. [color=42557d]"Should not be so easily distracted while on duty."[/color] His words were but a jest, absent knowledge of the thoughts that stirred beneath Lei’s silence or the heavier implications that could be taken from them. Another chuckle rumbled free before he turned his attention back toward the Weave.

Rough hands reached behind his head, grabbing fistfuls of his damp tunic between his shoulderblades then pulled it free like peeling the rind from a piece of fruit. The sweat covered contours of his muscles glistened like the speckles of light that reflected off the ripples of water encircling his ankles. He had a strong, imposing form that came from years of hard work and dedication, not vanity. His muscles were not chiseled and sharp like the men in the guard who spent countless hours honing and shaping to draw the passing eye and entice the very women they had sworn to forsake. Declan’s form was not rigid, but soft in its strength, dense and burly like a man who sowed a field and tended the land. It was not built with fragile pride but rooted in patient necessity.

[color=42557d]"I have yet had need to be merciful. I would not know what mercy looks like by my hands until the moment befalls me,"[/color] he confessed with a soft pensiveness that was nearly lost beneath the merriment of those around them. He lowered himself to crouch above the low tide that flooded in to cover the tops of his feet, only to be pulled back out the moment it brushed his skin. Elbows rested on bent knees, head casted downwards as he submerged the tunic beneath the water, letting it wash away the salt of his sweat and fill the fibers with a soothing chill. 

Before he could stand up, an outcry of childlike mirth tore through the crowd. [color=d6d6d6]"Ser Delcan!"[/color] the voices echoed before two small bodies tackled into him, knocking Declan onto his back against the sand just before the tide rolled in and dampened his previously dry trousers. But he was not angered, nor did he shout, instead a smile warmer than the sun curved nearly ear to ear as his own laughter roared out to match their own. 

[color=d6d6d6]"Owen! Willa!"[/color] their mother called after the young children, pushing her way through the congregation of people on the shore. The woman’s hair was messily pinned to her head to stave off the heat, hems of her various skirts tucked beneath the ties of her apron to leave her feet free to feel the water with a third child perched on her hip. [color=d6d6d6]"[i]Ser Delcan,[/i]"[/color] she sighed, face reddening from embarrassment at her children' s lack of decorum. [color=d6d6d6]"My deepest apologies."[/color]

Declan sat up, a kid in each arm, furiously tickling their sides, sending a second wave of laughter rolling across the Weave. [color=42557d]"There is no need. I should know better than to let my guard down when there are little [i]terrors[/i] on the loose."[/color] He emphasized the word ‘terrors’ with more tickles before he let them both go and climbed to his feet. Whether or not he intended to slip free, both of the children latched onto his hands immediately while attempting to tug him deeper into the river with them.

[color=d6d6d6]"They thought you would be locked away in the Black Citadel until winter with the Lords visiting,"[/color] the mother attempted to shine a light on her children’s excitement. 

He sighed, giving each of the tiny hands wrapped around his fingers a gentle squeeze. [color=42557d]"It is true. I cannot tarry long. But for you I could spare a moment longer as long as my friend does not mind."[/color] The children’s eyes widened in elation as they bounced up and down at his down, half hanging off his hands. Declan slowly turned with the small terrors in tow, looking down at Lei reclining in the sand. A single brow rose, posing the silent question while he lightly lifted the children with ease, eliciting more giggles and swinging legs from their weightlessness. 

For a breath, no, for several, she forgot the world entirely. Declan’s voice had scarcely faded before he reached for the back of his tunic, and Lei had meant to glance politely aside, meant to maintain the careful composure she always wore around the Guard. But when the fabric peeled over his head and sunlight struck him full-on, she froze in place as though caught in a hunter’s trap.

He was… Saints, he was [i]beautiful[/i] in a way she had no defenses prepared for. The sun poured over him like the molten fire back home in The Great Forge, catching in the curls of brown hair at his chest, glinting along the scattered trail of hair that narrowed down his sternum and vanished beneath the waist of his trousers. He wasn’t carved like the vain soldiers who posed in the mirror-polished shields of the barracks, no sharp angles sculpted for admiration. His strength was broad, grounded, honest, the strength of someone who lifted more than weapons; fields, families, responsibilities heavier than stone. His body bore the soft edges of a man who worked because the world needed him to, not because he wished eyes upon him. 

And her eyes, traitorous, disobedient, lingered anyway. Lingering turned to staring. Staring turned to heat she couldn’t blame on the summer sun. A tight, panicked breath coiled in her chest, and she yanked her gaze downward so hard it almost hurt. The river became her salvation, cool water rippling around her ankles, silvery sand shifting beneath the surface, tiny stones glinting like river pearls. She forced herself to breathe with the current, in and out, until the burn beneath her skin eased enough for reason to return. 

[i]Fool,[/i] she snarled inwardly. [i]He is your captain, and you—[/i] Her throat tightened. She had chosen a life where attraction had no place. No future. No room. She didn’t see the children crash into him, but she heard it, the squeals, the startled grunt, Declan’s surprised but booming laughter, and her body reacted before thought could catch up. She surged up onto her knees in the stream in one fluid motion, water splashing high enough to catch her thighs and the hem of her trousers. Her hands braced lightly on the sand as she whipped toward the sound, pulse leaping like a startled bird. 

Only children. Tiny bodies clinging to him, their little arms wrapped around his ribs as he toppled backward into the water with a delighted roar. Relief flooded her so abruptly her limbs went loose, the tension melting from her shoulders as quickly as it had risen. She let out a quiet breath, almost a laugh, as she watched him gather the little ones into his arms, tickling them until they shrieked and writhed in helpless joy. The sight softened her chest, soft in a way she didn’t want to feel, soft in a way that frightened her more than any sword could. 

Declan looked, damn him, natural like that. As if laughter was a second language, as if kindness was stitched into his bones. As if he belonged surrounded by warmth and children and sunshine. And she…she had chosen steel and shadow. Masks and lies. She had chosen a life where children would never be anything but distant, unreachable futures she had forfeited long before she fled Ironcrag. The ache that flickered through her ribs was sharp, private, quickly tucked away where no one could see it. 

When her captain turned, tiny hands dangling from his like ornaments, seeking her permission with a lift of his brow, Lei wiped her damp palms on her trousers, smoothing her expression until only calm remained. The smile she offered him was small but real—a gentle, steady thing she rarely let herself show. [color=b5c7eb]“As you wish, ser,”[/color] she said, her voice low, warm, steady as river stone. And though her heart felt too full, too complicated, she bowed her head in quiet permission, letting the moment, sunlit, fleeting, fragile, pass through her like water through open hands. 

Before Declan had a chance to respond, the children that dangled from his hands wiggled and squealed with joy. He nearly doubled over as their excitement brought them back down to earth with a tug. [color=d6d6d6]"Me first! Me first!"[/color] Owen shouted, pulling on the Captain’s hand while pointing at the river with glee. 

[color=42557d]"Did your mother never tell you, ladies first?"[/color] Declan goaded the young boy, sparing a glance toward his mother who gave her child a knowing glance.

[color=d6d6d6]"Well, yes—[i]but[/i]—"[/color] The boy groaned and crossed his arms over his chest in a huff. 

[color=42557d]"Good lad,"[/color] Declan smiled warmly down at Owen, lightly tousling his hair affectionately before turning his attention toward his sister. Willa, equally as excited, waited patiently, both hands gripping his pinky and index fingers while looking up at him with wide green eyes. He leaned down to be more at eye level, bracing his other hand against his thigh. [color=42557d]"Shall I toss you in?"[/color]

Willa’s smile grew as she vigorously nodded her head up and down

Declan’s eyes squinted, studying the young girl with a playful skepticism. [color=42557d]"Are you certain you will not be scared?"[/color]

She shook her head back and forth with an equal amount of fervor causing her damp blonde locks to bounce back and forth while sprinkling him with water. [color=d6d6d6]"[i]Please[/i], ser Declan,"[/color] the girl asked, timid but earnest.

[color=42557d]"Very well then, little Lady."[/color] Declan took hold of one of her small hands and gave the young girl a small twirl before turning her to face the soft rippling current of the weave. He leaned down and placed his hands gently upon her sides. [color=42557d]"Are you certain?"[/color]

She nodded. 

[color=42557d]"Is your nose held?"[/color]

She nodded a second time with a quiet giggle as she pinched her nose.

[color=42557d]"One… Two…"[/color] 

Willa’s hold on her nose tightened as she sucked in a deep breath and snapped her eyes shut in preparation. 

[color=42557d]"[i]Three![/i]"[/color] Declan shouted as he scooped her up with ease. He spun around once with her dangling free from his hands before lightly tossing her into the water safely only a few feet away. The moment she slipped from his hold she screamed and kicked her feet with excitement before disappearing beneath the sparkling blue surface. While his laugh was jovial, Declan watched the water, vigilant and ready to act at a moment's notice. Once her head popped back up, the faintest bit of tension slipped from his shoulders and he clapped for her as she swam back to the beach. 

To no one’s surprise, especially Declan’s, every small child on that side of the Weave swarmed to his side begging for their turn. Without a single complaint or falter in his smile, he obliged, giving every single one of them their moment to fly. Once they returned for seconds, he graciously declined to a sea of frowning faces and the roar disappointed whines. It was only then that his smile wavered. He would have happily remained upon the shore, drowning beneath the wave of children’s laughter until his muscles ached… but duty called. He gave each one of them a hug or a gentle pat on the head as he weaved his way through the dense crowd to where his tunic had floated down the river until it came ashore. 

Declan scooped it up, dipping it into the river a second time to rid it of any sand and soak the fabric a second time. He rang out any excess water before pulling it on over his head, thankful for the temporary chill of the damp tunic against his sun warmed skin. As he began to tuck the tunic back into his trousers, he turned to find a small girl standing beside Lei in quiet conversation, dripping water from head to toe. 

At first, she had watched him as if spellbound. As if something in the world had shifted its axis, tilting everything toward the sight of Declan standing waist-deep in sunlight and river-laughter. The Weave shimmered around him, each ripple reflecting a sliver of gold onto his skin, and he moved with an ease so natural it made something inside her ache, an ease born not of training or discipline but of a heart accustomed to giving, over and over, without thought or restraint. 

Lei had sat in the water once more, fingers curling unconsciously into the cool, silty sand beneath the surface. Each grain slid between her knuckles, grounding her as her mind floated elsewhere—toward the way he lifted the children, toward their shrieks of delight as he spun them once, twice, then let them fly; toward the open warmth carved into his smile, unguarded and bright; toward the way vigilance, even in joy, never fully left him.
It was unfair, dangerously unfair, how easily he seemed to embody every softness she’d trained out of herself. Every warmth she had learned to bury. Every dream she had abandoned. The longer she watched him, the more tangled her heart became, stretched taut between yearning and the cold reminder of the life she had claimed. He would make a fine father, she thought before she could stop herself, the kind who would laugh until he ached and lift his children high enough to touch the sun. He would never raise a hand to his children, to his wife. And she, who hid even the shape of her body, was barred from such futures entirely. Oath-bound. Secret-bound. Made to live half in shadow so she could survive in daylight. 

She dug her fingers harder into the riverbed, feeling the chilled current sweep over her wrists. It steadied her. Kept her from drifting too far into dangerous waters of thought. Declan was oath-bound as well, perhaps even more so than her due to his royal blood, and yet—

A small shadow fell across her.

Lei blinked out of her reverie just as a little girl, dripping from crown to heel, curls of deep red plastered to her scalp, came to stand beside her with all the quiet confidence of a creature unbothered by the world’s sharpness. The child smiled at her, wide and sweet, revealing the gap where one front tooth was missing. A bright birthmark bloomed over her left cheek, red as summer berries, made darker by the water beading upon her skin.

[color=d6d6d6]“You have hair like me,”[/color] she declared, not as if making a comparison but as if stating a shared secret. Tiny fingers pointed toward Lei’s braided hair. The girl’s eyes were a startling green—moss-bright, earnest. [color=d6d6d6]“Are you a King’s Guard too? Like Ser Declan?”[/color] The words struck her like a soft, unexpected blow. Her breath stilled, caught somewhere between surprise and something gentler, something that made her ribs feel too thin to hold her heart properly. She parted her lips to answer, but for a moment nothing came. She looked at the girl, at the small hands dripping cold river water onto Lei’s bare ankles, at the innocent curiosity untinged by suspicion, and felt her throat tighten with a quiet, private longing she would never voice. 

When she finally managed to speak, her voice came low, steady, but touched with an unfamiliar warmth. [color=b5c7eb]“I am,”[/color] she murmured, offering the girl a small, solemn nod. [color=b5c7eb]“What’s your name?”[/color] The little one’s grin widened into something triumphant, delighted. And for a brief, fragile moment, Soleil let herself smile back, softer than when [i]she[/i] was pretending to be a [i]he[/i], unsure, but undeniably real, before the world could close in around her again. It was easier, with the reminder that she [i]was[/i] a King’s Guard, that she’d made all her dreams come true, to swallow the truth behind her oaths. 

[color=d6d6d6]“I’m Tavia,”[/color] she chirped, rocking a little on her heels with an excitement she barely contained. Her fingers twisted in the hem of her damp shift, wringing water that splattered onto Lei, who smiled indulgently at the girl. [color=d6d6d6]“Like my gran’s name. She says it’s old, like from stories.”[/color] She puffed up a bit, proud of this lineage of tales.

[color=b5c7eb]“Tavia,”[/color] Lei echoed softly, letting the name settle on her tongue. It suited her—a name with roots, with a history that could stretch back into forgotten hearthfires, yet still small enough to cradle in two hands. The river breeze toyed at her braids, tugging loose strands across her brow. [color=b5c7eb]“Pleasure to meet you, I’m Lei, did you…did you want me to throw you in?”[/color] Her brows furrowed, feeling uncertain compared to Declan’s ease with the children.

Tavia fixed her with a look both bold and uncertain, the way only a child could manage—half bravery, half trembling curiosity. [color=d6d6d6]“No, Ser Lei. I was just wondering…did you always want to be a King’s Guard?”[/color] she asked, voice gone soft, nearly reverent, as though the question itself was something she wasn’t allowed to ask.

For a heartbeat, Lei said nothing. The world narrowed to the quiet between them, to the distant echo of children’s laughter still drifting from the riverbank, to the weight of memories she kept locked tight beneath her armor. She studied Tavia’s face, the hopefulness there, the openness, and felt some small, aching thread inside her loosen.

[color=b5c7eb]“Not always, not quite,”[/color] Lei admitted, her voice low as the hush of river reeds. [color=b5c7eb]“But as I grew older… I knew it was my duty. I was strong enough, brave enough, able-bodied. And the royal family need people who are willing to stand between them and danger.”[/color] She paused, swallowing against the thickening in her throat. The child’s green eyes never wavered. [color=b5c7eb]“But that wasn’t all,”[/color] she continued, gentler now, choosing her words carefully, shaping them into something kinder than the truth but still true enough. [color=b5c7eb]“I wanted to protect little girls like you. Because when I was your age… I couldn’t protect my sister the way I wished I could have.”[/color]

Tavia’s breath caught, her small lips parting as though she’d been struck not with pain, but wonder. She regarded Lei with a wide, shimmering gaze, one that made Lei feel suddenly too large, too human, and too exposed. The girl stepped closer, water droplets sliding down her birthmarked cheek like beads of melted rubies.

[color=d6d6d6]“Then you’re a hero,”[/color] she whispered, awe spilling from her voice like sunlight on the river.

Heat rushed up Lei’s neck so swiftly she nearly fell back into the sand as she shook her head at once, flustered, startled, hands rising instinctively as if to bat the word away. [color=b5c7eb]“No, no—I’m not,”[/color] she said, too quickly, too earnestly, too much like herself. Her heart thudded hard against her ribs, as though embarrassed to be caught beating in such a fragile moment. [color=b5c7eb]“Heroes are… bigger. Braver. They do impossible things. They’re men, like Captain Declan.”[/color]

Tavia frowned, as though Lei had said something entirely wrong. [color=d6d6d6]“You protect people,”[/color] she said simply, with the unwavering certainty only a child or a prophet could summon. [color=d6d6d6]“That makes you a hero, Ser Declan too.”[/color]

Lei found she had no answer for that, not one she could shape into words. So she only let out a quiet breath, a soft, cracked laugh, and bowed her head slightly to this small, waterlogged oracle with riverweed in her hair and truth dripping from her lips. She glanced up toward Declan, not having noticed his approach, unsure of how long he’d stood there, but there was a sort of helpless, [i]help me[/i] look about her as the little girl stood there, grinning brightly.

Declan stood on the outskirts of the conversation, not partaking but observing with his thumbs hooked onto his belt lazily. [color=42557d]"From the mouths of babes,"[/color] he commented when he was caught eavesdropping. He slowly crossed the soft white sands, leaving an imprint of each step in his wake that were swiftly washed away by the tide. One hand scooped up his discarded boots, while the other lightly rested atop Tavia’s damp head affectionately. [color=42557d]"I do not think you can only call me a hero when we are [i]both[/i] guardsmen."[/color]


[color=d6d6d6]"[i]See,[/i]"[/color] the young girl beamed happily, bouncing and rocking on her feet with palpable excitement. 

[color=d6d6d6]"Tavia!"[/color] a voice called from the crowd further down the bank followed by the wave of a mother’s hand above the heads of those around her. 

[color=42557d]"I believe that is your mother,"[/color] he spoke to the girl with a gentle stroke of his thumb across the crown of her head. [color=42557d]"Say goodbye to Lei and I shall help you find her."[/color] While Tavia half tackled Lei with a hug that was far too large than her little arms could muster, Declan slipped back on his boots over sand covered feet and damp trousers, an inevitable discomfort, but he still did not dare to regret the temporary delay. Being among the people was just as important as guarding them and their rulers. While others might not agree, it was something the Captain endeavored to fulfill as often as he could, brokering trust and a steadfast relationship with those he sacrificed everything to protect.

Once their farewells were finished, Declan disappeared into the crowd with little Tavia in tow, her small hand lightly cradled in the palm of his calloused hand. It did not take long for him to help the girl find her mother, then return to Lei with the same warm smile that had yet to waver. He held out a hand in offering to help the man to his feet. [color=42557d]"Back to work I am afraid."[/color]

Lei watched them go, Declan with his easy, unthinking grace and Tavia with her jubilant skip that sent droplets scattering from her hair.. Their silhouettes slipped into the swell of bodies along the riverbank, swallowed and revealed again by movement, by laughter, by the glint of sun on water. His words lingered behind like a bell’s soft tolling: [i]From the mouths of babes.[/i] And worse: [i]We are both guardsmen.[/i] True, simple, unadorned, yet somehow it struck her with the force of something heavier, something she wasn’t sure she had the armor to deflect.

She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, turning her gaze back to the river. The water curled around her ankles, cool as breath drawn between teeth, slipping over her skin with a kind of insistence, touching, retreating, returning again as though testing if she were truly there. Sparkling currents braided and unbraided themselves around her feet, tugging lightly at the sand beneath her. It felt like standing on the edge of something nameless, something that shifted if she tried to look at it directly. The crowd’s joyful murmur dimmed into a distant hum, blurred by the sudden inward tilt of her thoughts.

Home rose in her mind unbidden—her father’s voice echoing through the stone corridors of the Frosthearth keep, firm and instructing, cold and unyielding. She saw the tilt of his chin when he told her that duty was a choice one made again and again, especially when he was using it as an excuse to hurt her. She felt the familiar press of expectation across her shoulders, and beneath it all, like a thread woven through every memory, the ghost of her sister’s laughter—high, bright, then suddenly absent. Lei’s chest tightened, ribs drawing in as though trying to hold too much at once. She did not know how long she sat there, suspended between the river’s whisper and the distant echoes of her past, before a voice broke through the haze—warm, patient, unmistakably his.

Lei blinked, the world snapping back into sharpness. Declan stood before her, hand extended, his smile steady as sunlight. She looked up at him unguarded, raw for a heartbeat, the river wind catching strands of hair that had slipped free from her braid. She shifted her weight, preparing to rise, but Declan’s outstretched hand remained steady between them, an unspoken offer she had forgotten to refuse, or perhaps had never intended to. For a breath, she merely looked at it, the lingering sheen of riverwater on his skin, droplets gathered in the lines of his palm, the faint grit of sand clinging to his wrist where the current hadn’t quite washed it clean.

Then she placed her hand in his. The moment their palms met, a quiet shock went through her, nothing sharp or startling, but something warm, something she felt in the hollow beneath her sternum. His hand was still damp from the river, cool on contact, yet somehow radiating heat beneath the wetness. Her own fingers curled around his instinctively, and she felt the slide of his skin against hers—calloused meeting calloused, but even so… even with all the labor she’d done, all the weapons she’d trained with, all the harsh miles she’d walked across stone and shale… her hand felt [i]softer.[/i]

The realization struck her with a flush that climbed swiftly up her throat to her cheeks. She hoped, desperately, that the sunburn already blooming there would hide it. His grip tightened just enough to guide her upward, steady and assured, and she rose with him, the pull of his arm smooth, effortless, infuriatingly gentle. For a heartbeat she did not release him. Their hands lingered, skin slipping slightly from the dampness, her pulse tapping quickly against his thumb. It was only when she realized she’d been staring at their joined hands instead of releasing them that she let go, perhaps too quickly, fingertips dragging lightly across his palm in the process.

She wiped her hand on her trousers, a gesture meant to disguise the tremor she felt rather than the moisture from his touch, then dipped her head as if hiding from the brightness of the day. She swallowed, nodded, and the exhale she gave was half-apology, half-acceptance. [color=b5c7eb]“Right,”[/color] she murmured, voice quieter than she intended.

She bent to retrieve her boots, half-buried in sand where she had abandoned them earlier. The leather felt warm from the sun, yet the moment she slid her foot in she grimaced, nearly flinching, the grit of river sand clung stubbornly between her toes, scraping like an unwelcome memory. She shook her foot, wiped her palm along her arch, and tried again. Still more sand. A soft huff escaped her, somewhere between irritation and resignation.

Boots finally laced, she straightened and stepped to his side, the lingering coolness of river water still tracing lines along her skin. When she met Declan’s gaze again, she had smoothed her features back into the practiced calm of Lei, the guardsman, the loyal shadow of the royal family. But somewhere within, below the surface where words dissolved and duty braided itself with longing, Soleil still shivered from the touch of the river and the weight of being called a hero by a girl with moss-green eyes. She held out the still damp offering he’d thrown at her earlier, smiling wryly. [color=b5c7eb]“Lead the way, Ser Declan.”[/color]


Declan’s gaze fell to the cloth extended back to him and shook his head, denying its return. [color=42557d]"Keep it. The Rose can be quite warm on a cool day. You will be thankful for its comfort."[/color] While his smile had lessened, slipping to something more resolute and forlorn at the prospect of leaving the content peace he found at the riverside, the warmth still clung to the faint curves and the gentle squint in his eyes. [color=42557d]"Just Declan, remember?"[/color] he corrected with a soft levity before he started back up toward the market street while sparing the children shouting his name a parting waving.

Lei’s gaze dipped to the square of fabric in her hand— navy blue, soft from wear, the corner stitched with careful silver thread. [i]D.S.[/i] The initials gleamed faintly in the afternoon light, impossible to miss, impossible to mistake, a small snow owl taking flight from embroidery. 

Something in her chest jolted, a quick, traitorous flutter against her ribs, but she masked it with a slow exhale and the faintest tilt of her mouth. [color=b5c7eb]“Then… thank you,”[/color] she said lightly, tucking the cloth into her belt as though it were any ordinary scrap and not something that felt unreasonably warm against her hip.  Lei snorted under her breath at his reprimand, falling into step beside him, boots thudding softly against sun-dried sand. [color=b5c7eb]“As you say… [i]Ser,”[/i][/color] she murmured, just quiet enough to toe the line, just bold enough to let the corner of her mouth curl. 

The breeze off the Weave shifted, brushing cool fingers along her skin. She didn’t look back at the river, nor at the children, nor at the imprint of the moment left on her palms. She only followed him upward, leaving the glittering water behind as the sounds of the shore slowly faded into the hum of the waiting streets.[/color][/justify][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent]

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