#blogteas

“But like cooked out, right?” Fjord asked, suddenly worried. Jester was leaning very precariously to reach up to spoon feed Duces, and her chair rocked slightly.

“Don’t smell like it,” Beau shrugged, and dunk a finger in it to taste. “Don’t taste like it either. Why don’t we all get this?”

“I prefer my booze in drinking form, thank you,” Nott said, taking a large swig.

“Ya, but consider, Nott, what if we put the Tire-ee-mazzooo into your flask, and then you have it forever?” Caleb suggested, also a bit far into his cups.

This was all fine and dandy, but Fjord couldn’t help but watch Jester closely, carefully, knowing full well she’d never had a drink before. He wasn’t sure how much alcohol was in whatever the hell tiramisu was, but she had already had four. And she certainly was acting peculiar.

Just as her chair was about to topple under her, he rushed over, and scooped her up in his arms. The spoon was left in Caduceus’s surprised mouth, and the rest of the Nein let out a whoop at Fjord’s daring rescue.

“Fjord! My hero! My Oskar,” Jester purred, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, and snuggling into his neck. She certainly smelled a little boozy. What the hell was this dessert?

“Easy there, Jess, easy,” he said, trying to let her down gently. She still swayed a bit on her feet, so he didn’t remove her completely from clinging to his arm.

“Fjord,” she said, plainly, looking up at him with her big ol’ eyes, as if she’d been meaning to tell him he’d had spinach in his teeth all day. “I’d very much like to kiss you. I’ve been meaning to for quite awhile.”

That.

Stopped him.

Dead in his tracks.

“No, you haven’t,” he said, quietly, and Beau giggled.

“Eh,” Caleb shrugged, taking a swig of his own drink, and Nott rolled her eyes.

“It certainly hasn’t been subtle.”

“Yes, yes, I have been meaning to, but I did not feel as though you would recip. Recip.” She stopped, frowning, trying her luck again at a different word, “I didn’t think you’d want to.”

“I… I…,” he really was at a loss. She couldn’t possibly have gotten drunk off of desserts of all things, but if this was her first drink. Nothing about this situation was good and the rest of the Nein was not being helpful, giggling and snickering at him. But worst off, Jester would not want to have done it this way. She didn’t deserve to do it this way. She deserved that silly book she always brought up, being swept off her feet, romanced, the whole deal.

And he wasn’t Oskar, but… He wanted to do right by her at least a little, and let her have that when she was ready, and not tipsy for the first time.

“You,” he started, carefully, “Are teasing me, Guinevere.”

Jester’s eyes lit up, and she practically bounced on his arm, “Oh, Oskar!”

Beau groaned. “Oh shit. This is from the book. You’ve read it?” Incredulously, she turned away from the scene, starting to delve into the remains of the tiramisu with Caduceus and Nott, who both had become bored.

Caleb alone smiled at Fjord, pleased.

Fjord winked at him, and returned to Jester’s bouncing face, “You need rest, for the long road ahead, beloved. Come, let me take you,” he put on a voice and everything for her, and she squealed with delight, thrusting herself back into bridal style in his arms. A little off kilter, he began to carry her back to her and Beau’s room.

He laid her down, and made a note to grab her some water as well, before putting the covers around her.

“You know, Fjord, I’m not actually sleepy.”

“I know, Jess.”

She looked up at him, with a bit more clarity than before, and pursed her lips in that way that meant she was thinking. Finally, as she laid back down, she said, “Thank you for covering for me. I don’t really think it worked, but at least they all thought I was being silly.”

For a moment, Fjord felt stung, and he wasn’t sure why. Did she think that was all they all thought of her? “Jess, we don’t think you’re silly.”

She smiled, and laughed, “It’s okay, I am silly. I like being silly.” Her pause was heartbreaking. “I got a bit too silly tonight though.”

“First taste of alcohol will do that to ya,” he tried to make it better, sitting on the floor near her bed so they were face to face. “I’ve been pretty silly myself when in my cups. It happens. No one remembers. You move on.”

Again, she pursed her lips, and he worried perhaps, perhaps still he’d said something wrong, until she leaned forward, and gently brushed her lips against his.

He was about to speak, but she put a hand up. “That one doesn’t count, okay? That’s not our first kiss. That will be wonderful and birds will sing and the stars will cry, but this one, this? This is thank you. I wasn’t being silly. I really want to kiss you. But I don’t want to do it this way, and I know that you don’t either, if you ever do. So thank you.”

She smiled shy, and barely could look at him, and he honestly felt much the same. But he squeezed her hand, tempted to do more, but knowing that this, this was all enough. “Anytime, Jess. It’s what I’m here for.”

“I don’t know why I can’t go with you,” she whispers in the dark of this strange room and strange bed—beautiful and luxurious, of course, it is Josephine’s home after all, but still it is not their home, and it is not their bed. The smells drifting in from the open window are the fragrant notes of jasmine and manicured lawns, not pine and sea salt air like their cottage. Everything is just a bit too soft for his bones, getting on in years, and he’s sore in ways he doesn’t want to admit as he holds his wife closer, and kisses her shoulder.

He places a hand on her belly as an answer, growing steady now, an attempt at teasing, but he wishes she could come with him too. “You can more work for us organizing. You still have to travel, but Josephine has set that up for you, straight to Kirkwall to rendezvous with Varric and the others. You have to keep yourself safe too, love. We need you.”

She grasps his hand on her belly and squeezes, before turning to face him. He can only see the outline of her face, and the subtle yellow of her eyes, but the intensity of her gaze does not escape him. “Who will keep you safe?”

“I’ll be fi--.”

“I need you.” Her voice shakes more than he thought it would. There’s so much he doesn’t understand about this war. It’s all cloaks and daggers, whispers, barters, and gossip, not unlike the Orlesian Court, but the world literally lies in the balance of it all. And worse still, a part of it is being fought deeply inside her, and he cannot save her from it. He feels weak. Pitiful. But right now, Sula, so strong, always so dependable, needs the same from him. Maker help him, she is his hero, and he can be that for her.

He pulls her face to his, and kisses her gently—for all their time together, he has not kissed her nearly enough. It still comes as a surprise, how soft and shy she can kiss him when they have seen each other at one another’s lowest and highest hours. He longs for the day where each touch, each kiss is totally memorized. He tries to commit this one to memory. It might be one of the last… Hopefully, for only awhile.