Summary: The keeper meets the grey one for a picnic, but not before a playful greeting.

Word Count: 661

The keeper approached the dock as dusk settled over the lake with a dull orange hue lingering on the horizon.

Ever since inheriting his grandfather’s property on this particular part of the Irish coast, the keeper visits the dock with picnic basket at the end of his work day.

One late summer evening, the keeper stood waiting on the edge of the dock. After a while, he slipped off his sandals, sat down and dipped his feet into the water. He shuddered at the cool temperature but enjoyed the water’s comfort and the slight warm breeze. 

It wasn’t long before the keeper felt something brush against the bottoms of his feet. He gasped and lifted them immediately out of the water with a splash, only to see a familiar shape beneath the surface once it settled. He chuckled with relief. 

A grey human-like face with round-marble eyes and whiskers looked up at him. It appeared to smile, wrapped in a cloud of silver hair as it floated beneath the water’s surface. A grey hand with long fingers and claws beckoned the keeper to return his feet to the water.

The keeper smiled warily but slowly lowered his legs back into the lake, ready to begin the playful ritual his friend liked to perform before joining him on the dock. 

The grey one’s face faded deeper into the murky depths, while its clawed hands remained visible as they reached up to trace and poke the entirety of the keeper’s feet with practiced gentleness. 

The keeper quickly clamped his hands over his mouth, whimpering, as he shuddered from the grey one’s ticklish touch. He immediately curled his toes when he felt claws trace from his heels to his arches, where they lingered. He trembled with suppressed laughter, struggling to keep his feet in the water. He always saw it as a personal challenge to try and endure the grey one’s exploration, despite always knowing how it would end. 

Eventually the keeper’s efforts shattered when the claws began to scratch lightly under his toes. Following a loud cackle, he pulled his legs out of the water.

When the keeper looked over the dock again, the grey one’s face was visible under water’s surface, scrunched in an obvious pout. 

The keeper offered a sheepish smile and an apology, before he lowered his feet back in the water. He knew he was in for it now. 

The claws returned in earnest, skittering up and down both of his feet. Unable to help himself, the keeper fell back onto the dock, hugging himself and laughing hysterically.

It was just like the first time he met the grey one, at the beginning of the summer when he chose to rest at the dock, only to be greeted by a curious “tickle monster”. Ever since then, the keeper would return to the dock and dip his feet in the water as a signal that he was ready for a visit. 

The tickling claws gradually came to a stop and left his feet, leaving the keeper to giggle and catch his breath on the dock. As always, he felt slightly disappointed that it was already over. 

When the keeper finally opened his eyes, a pale man with silver hair was hovering over him with a concerned look. The keeper yelped when cold water dripped from the man’s hair onto his cheek. He sat up and rubbed it away before turning back to greet the grey one, now a man, with a spotted grey tunic around his waist. 

The keeper dipped his head apologetically and the pale man sighed. He leaned forward to rest his forehead against the keeper’s and both men closed their eyes.

AND I AM FINALLY DONE, OMG.

And I am actually so happy with how it turned out! In the end, I decided to go with an appearance that made it look as if Hiraeth and Gale were part of one of Gale's book (I can honestly imagine him doing something like this and just immortalizing a moment together and keep it in his book for keepsake).

What more to say aside that these two cinnamon rolls ABSOLUTELY deserve each other????

Also, fun fact about Hiraeth´s appearance: she usually wears a glamour to hide away her scales, but with Gale, she can definitely let her guard down and show them to him.

I like to imagine that this moment portrayed here happened after Hiraeth was finally free from her pact with her Patron, Titania, after absolving her duty to her and Damh (I will explain more once I manage to write her profile, which will come soon alongside Asra's) and she is *finally* free to just be Hiraeth.

So, OF COURSE, she is celebrating in the arms of the man she loves the most! <3

Well, I hope you will like this <3

Squabbles between gang members were not something out of the ordinary, when dealing with the lowlife that festered in the city, and Kaylock had done his part to gather strong dissent from others.

Crawford Starrick’s cold eyes skimmed through the penned words with careful attentiveness: Phillip had been thorough, as he always was whenever he filed a report to send to him, updating him on all that his “little ghosts” had heard around town.

Crawford couldn’t help the small smile on his face: that young man had potential, much more potential than any of the Master Templars that were serving beneath him. He was ruthless. He was witty and had a penchant for reading people far better than he read books. He was focused and unwavering, sometimes to a fault. But, the Grand Master thought, he was impatient, and much too arrogant and insolent, and too eager for external adoration and validation, sometimes forgetting that they all served a Order much greater than themselves.

Despite everything, and with a touch of guilt that always constricted his heart whenever he found himself thinking about it, Phillip had all the qualities he had hoped his son would have, had fate bestowed a male child upon him and his Nettie.

Dorothea couldn’t have been more different from Phillip in spirit not even if she tried to.

His eyes moved from the rapport sitting on his desk toward the labyrinthine inner garden, where his daughter was playing with her yapping dog, running through the shrubs and making snow angels on the snow covered ground, and he felt another pang of paternal worry and guilt wriggling his heart like brambles.

Such an obedient child, she was.

Ever since she was able to understand the world around her, she wanted nothing more than to please him and his wife, in all expectations they had placed on her small shoulders.

He wasn’t blind to what her soul truly yearned: music and singing and poetry and reading. She had been blessed with the soul of an artist, and with such a gentle heart, sometimes he wondered how he had been able to sire a child so different from how he himself had been in his youth.

But as much as he hated the idea -as much as he wished for life to be different-, willing or not as she was, she had a part to play within the Order, and if his plans for her were to come to fruition, one day, she would be the one holding the British and the Swedish Rites in her hands.

It had to.

Dorothea was his only child: his legacy needed to live on through her.

He was the youngest son, but could never accept that his brother would be the one to actually bring forward their family legacy.

There could be no other way.

Their name needed to live through her.

All the pieces on the chessboard needed to be set, so that she could take over, once his job was done.

"Crafword Jospeh Starrick, I cannot believe my ears!"

Crawford Starrick looked up from the rapport, not expecting to hear his name called in full, let alone coming from his rather disconcerted wife, still wearing her snow-covered outdoor coat as she barged into his office like one of the Erinyes, followed suit by an upset Mr. Armstrong.

“My Lord! Forgive me! I tried to tell Lady Starrick that you were not to be disturb-“

With a mere gesture of his hand, he silently indicated his butler to make himself scarce and leave them to their business: he knew the gaze his wife was giving him - one of pure discontent- and this needed to be discussed alone, away from all prying ears.

As soon as the door closed behind them, the Swedish Countess accommodated herself on the chair across his desk and fixating that look of seething disdain toward her own husband.

Her chest was rising with the same intensity of an athlete that had just done running from one side of town to the other, and he wasn't against betting that it had been exactly what she had done.

Seeing her so agitated was enough to put him in vigilant alert.

Annette was not a woman prone to strong emotions or outburst of temper: she was the ice to his fire within.

"What is it, Nettie, dearest? What is it the reason for this disconcert of yours?"

He saw his wife’s nostrils flare, almost as if she was putting her whole effort in containing herself.

What in the bloody world had just happened to render his level-headed wife so out of herself?

"It just so happens that this morning I have heard,from the most reliable of sources - your own nephew, nonetheless - a most damnable news!”

Crawford frowned, his jaw tensing for just one small second.

She knew.

“Nettie, if you will allow me to explain-“

“You will have an American coming here on Monday morn and you have granted permission for an interview with our daughter! Without informing me first! " she sputtered, her lovely violet eyes wide open with incredulity. "An American! Pray tell, do we lack gentlemen on this side of the ocean, that you had to resort to summoning a Yankee here for our only child?"

Crawford blinked at her words, trying as he might to maintain his usual composure, even though he felt the threat of a bout of laughter bubbling in his chest.

A Yankee. He couldn't help but wonder how the man under discussion would react, if he were to be addressed as one, considering his birthplace.

"My dear," he started, carefully folding his hands in his lap, not letting a single emotion transpire from his face. "I can understand your concern and your worries. Do not think me so heartless to not have taken in consideration your opinions-“

But despite everything, Countess Annette’s ears were deaf to his controlled tone, engrossed as she was by her own predicament.

"My word, the absolute disbelief I felt when Phillip told me about this was unimaginamble! Even your cousin Pearl was completely befuddled by such lack of transparency and sensibility on your part, and yet, she related that she was not truly surprised by your behaviour! An American. AN AMERICAN! Do I need to remind you that they dumped tea in the harbour, husband of mine? The tea you absolutely rave about each and every day of our married life together?"

Crawford cocked his eyebrow, giving her a long, silent look, laced with barely concealed nerves.

"Then we will make sure that he is not to get anywhere near our larder, lest certain "revolutionary instincts" were to take a hold of him, don't you agree?"

"Ohh, Mister Starrick, do not dare mock me so openly!" she sputtered, her cheeks flushing red. "Why did you need to be so secretive about this?"

He weighted his next words carefully, as he shifted on the chair to make himself more comfortable.

"I was afraid - and correctly so, judging from this bout of hysteria you are inappropriately displaying - that this might have sent you into a fit," he then murmured, being as honest as he could be without causing ulterior anger in his wife.

"Ah!" she exclaimed, pointing her finger at him whilst deciding to ignore his comment. "So you knew I would have not approved!"

"I did, Nettie, dearest, if anything because I am extremely aware of your disdain for the Americans - or really, for anyone not ailing from those godforsaken frosted lands you called your home. But allow me to reassure you that, if you are able to see past his birthplace, Mr. Sterling is a businessman much like myself, a man of exceptional moral strength and integrity, with an amiable disposition and worthy more pounds than any ridiculous aristocrat here could ever hope to provide for our daughter.”

“Money!” Countess Annette could barely contain herself from snorting at the notion. “As if you and I were lacking, to begin with!”

Unnerved by his wife not relenting in her fury, Crawford raised a hand to ask for her silence, in a gesture that did not allow questioning.

“I am not done talking, Annette. Money is but one of the reasons I found Mr. Sterling to be a suitable suitor for Dorothea, but it was not all. Aside from his considerable fortunes, he is an extremely respected member of the Order in America, one that Grand Master Tweed himself would vouch for. When he approached me at Michaelmas and formally asked to meet Dorothea for an interview, upon her return, I could not dare refuse without a single reason for it."

"But you could have told me!" Annette reproached, her eyes narrowing even more than before.

“And pray tell, what good would have done it?”

The Countess sputtered, her cheeks turning a blazing red.

“I am Ditte’s parent just as much as you, and I had a right to say “yes” or “no” to whoever were to approach us with the intent to marry our daughter! And I cannot accept this! Not now! Not with this being the year our daughter will finally be introduced in proper society!"

"And what other solution we might have? Who would be worthy enough to marry our daughter, in your vision, darling wife? Who would possess all the qualities and virtues that would make him the most ideal guardian for our darling fawn?”

Annette didn't answer right away, staring her husband straight in his eyes, her answer clearly written in her glance despite the silence.

The Grand Master's face turned dark, as it always did whenever his wife make him apart of her own true intentions.

They rarely disagreed, and when they did, they were always able to find together a compromise of some sort.

But not this time.

Not on what she was suggesting.

"No, Absolutely not. Not him. We have already discussed this aplenty, and I refuse to even entertain such ludicrous suggestion any further! I will never give my consent."

The Swedish woman’s face hardened, her stare becoming pure steel.

"Byron Harrison would make an excellent husband for our daughter, and you know that. Everyone knows that, even Mama, your own mother, knows that. She declared so in the last letter she exchanged with me, if you require any further proof about the legitimacy of my claim. No man can be declared more devoted to our daughter than Master Harrison, and you know that."

"No, Annette, absolutely not! I forbid you to entertain such nonsensical notions any longer than you already have!"

But the Countess was a stubborn woman, whose mind was not easily swayed, and the Grand Master knew that, probably better than anyone else.

"He is a Gentleman, differently from your “morally exceptional businessman”. He is strong, reliable, loyal, unwavering in the face of anything that might come his way. You know it, you know him. You know what he did the night those Assassins had tried to have your fourteen-year-old daughter killed in her bed. You know what he did to them afterwards. Yes,” she added, as Crawford’s gaze went from grouched to attentive. Her voice was filled with what could only be described as profound admiration.“I am able to finally sleep in my bed because I know, in exact detail, everything that Master Harrison has done to ensure that none of those dogs were to draw another breath. I know he would cut his right arm out for you and her, were you to ask him, and that is exactly why you dare not allow yourself to see that he is the most suitable candidate for Dorothea! Our daughter, while showing intelligence, is still abysmally naive to the ways of the world and gullible still. He would protect her! From all threats." She paused for a moment, letting the air hang between them. "External and internal."

Crawford stood up from his chair, hands folded behind his back as he stared down toward his wife with eyes that did not allow for any further argument.

"Despite your heartfelt oration on behalf of Master Harrison’s unquestionable loyalty and exemplary services to our family, I said no. I find it absolutely preposterous that you are still entertaining this ludicrous idea! Preposterous, I dare say! There will be no threat of any kind, not while I am alive! Take this notion away from your head, Mrs Starrick, once and for all, or I swear, I might let my temper take the best of me! I will not entertain this nonsense any further!"

Annette took a long moment before answering, starring at her husband almost in challenge. She knew he would never do anything of that sort, as much as she was aware that such proposition always sent her lord husband in a fit of rage.

Still, she had to raise her own proposition to him.

She crossed her arms against her chest, raising her chin as an haughty air of sober disdain painted itself all over her fair face.

"Very well, seeing that this displease you, Crawford-" she whispered his name with a voice laced with ill-hidden sarcasm. "I shall press this matter with you no further. But please, oh husband of mine, do allow your simpleton wife to at least inquire about this wondrous American of yours. He sure is of money, you let me intend that much, but what about his family? His pursuits? Is he of good fortune and breeding? Can he say to be hailing from a respectable family that had belonged in the Order for centuries and, as much as my very own blood, occupied the highest position at the Court of the King of Sweden? From a family who is not only respectable in the eyes of society, but admired as well? Because you know that I will never accept anything less than someone that hails from the most respected part of our society for our daughter.”

Crawford shook his head in vexation. He knew what his wife was implying, and he wished that "that" particular aspect of her lineage didn't matter as much to her as it did. He knew the moment he had married her, years before, that her heritage - her legacy - would have been cause of dispute in the future.

He was never one to care for titles, believing them to be nothing more than poppycock that showed nothing of a man’s worth. Even his own peerage had been bought, so as to please his father-in-law and convince him that he was a good enough man for his daughter.

But he never appreciated to judge a man’s worth for his blood and lineage.

He found that, if anything, such claims of nobility proved his lack thereof.

“What does it matter, Nettie? He is an hardworking man that shall care for our daughter in the most commendable of ways and provide her with all she might need! What more could anyone ask for their only daughter?"

“This might very well be said be said of the lowest of cattles that work in the field to provide the wheat our cooks use to make our bread. I need to know what this gentleman has that makes him so commendable in your eyes!” She continued, absolutely undaunted. Then, in the same breath, she added: “And what about her residency, Crawford! What about the place where this American shall choose to drag Dorothea, once the marriage is sealed and done? Would she move to the Colonies afterward? Is this your plan for Ditte? To send her away? Our daughter has been home for merely a month - a month! - and you are already planning to pack her up and ship her to the Wild West? I cannot accept that! I will not accept that, husband, not with Queen Charlotte's Ball approaching soon enough, where Dora will debut, and the Season starting right after, where all the Ton will be present and she will have her pick! With her lineage, she can aspire to be a Princess of this country, and you would have her being the wife of a cowboy-" she wrinkled her nose in disgust at that word, finding the notion absolutely abhorrent. "-who would be too busy spending his days following his cattles around rather than taking care of my darling daughter the way she deserves?”

Her husband gave her a long look and drew a small sigh.

He always thought he was the one to be too apprehensive when it came to his daughter's wellbeing, and he had all but forgotten how prone to hysteria his own wife was in regards to their only child.

“You should not concern yourself with such matters as of yet, dearest. Nothing has been decided, and I can assure you, despite what you might think of my judgment in not delivering to you my resolution for this meeting with Master Sterling, I would have not taken any final decision without your invaluable counsel. Monday’s call would be just a mere interview. The man has asked to be introduced to Dora and talk with her, and after careful consideration, I saw it adequate to concede him to at least meet her this one time. Nothing more than that. There had been no promises of pursuit nor understanding, let alone marriage."

After his wife gave him another long unconvinced look, he took in small breath.

Walking around his desk with light pace, he reached for his wife and gently cradled her face in his hands, caressing her cheeks in a comforting gesture. Seeing that she wouldn't retract from his touch, despite the frown not disappearing from her brow, he took confidence that she was at least willing to listen to him.

He gently pressed a kiss on the tip of her nose, before brushing his lips against hers in another soft kiss.

"Nettie, my love, you know how much I missed our daughter, how contrary I was in sending her away in the first place, so far away from our own gaze. Allow me to reassure you in this, for it is not my desire for Dora to leave England at all. Not now, not ever, and especially not after she had been absent for three whole years, cooped away in those godforsaken forests and lakes,”

Hearing her husband’s voice crack with melancholy, the Swedish Countess allowed herself to feel pity for him. She knew she had not been alone in the predicament of their daughter’s absence. She placed her hands on her husband’s, returning his kiss with another one of her own.

“You should be thankful for the foresight I had in sending her somewhere safe,” she muttered underneath her breath, daring to caress his cheek with gentle hand. “After what nearly happened in 65', after we nearly lost you in 66', I should have not risked our daughter’s life, not for such thing as proximity or missing. And you know how terrible I felt in sending her away.”

Crawford gave her a small, sad smile: he knew all too well.

"I will concede that. You know that despite our different view on the matter, I trusted your instinct, and with good reason, considering the outcome. But let me assure you that it is not my intention to see our daughter away from our gaze ever again. You know well all that we have discussed about,"

"I certainly do, which is why I am not letting you stray away from all that we agreed upon, Crawford,"

"Had you allowed me to finish, I would have told you immediately that Mr. Sterling resides here in London for the best part of the year."

"Well, that's certainly is a small positive instance compared to the the unsavory alternative you have presented me with. But mark my word, husband, I still have my reserve."

He raised his hands in defeat, shaking his head with a smile.

"Since my word is not enough to reassure you that I do have our daughter's interests at heart, I will let you conduct the interview yourself, and you will ask all manner of questions that you deem necessary to finally convince you. Even the most impertinent ones."

"Trust me, husband of mine, I will. I shan't spare myself and he shall comply."

She looked at her husband with a mischievous smile, and Crawford couldn't help return it.

"I know that smile, Mrs. Starrick. Something's afoot with you,"

Her smile widened even more.

"Entertain me in this,"

"I am listening."

"How about…a little wager, between you and me?"

"Oh? And tell me, my dear, what kind of wager would you like me to entertain?"

“I’d like to put Mr. Sterling under a test of my own concoction. If Mr. Sterling can navigate the complexities of our social circle and win our daughter’s favor, then I will consider him a worthy suitor and allow an understanding to take place.”

“And if he does not?”

The Countess’s eyes glimmered with an impish light, her jaw tensing as she found her determination once more.

“Then, you will support my proposal for our Byron to be a suitor for Dorothea. Then, you will consider him to be a husband for our daughter.” When she saw Crawford starting to protest again, she made her voice even firmer. ”You must. You must see what I see. I know you do. You have to concede this to me.”

The Grandmaster took a deep sigh, as he closed his eyes in an effort of blocking the irritation that was growing once more in his chest. He knew she was immovable. He knew that, no matter what would happen on Monday morn with Mr. Starling, her mind was set on Master Harrison, despite all her talks about introducing Dorothea to the Ton and wanting her to marry into this country peerage.

What kind of game was his wife playing?

But he knew that, in order for that question to be answered, there was only one thing to do.

“So be it, Nettie,” he murmured, begrudgingly taking his wife’s hand to seal the deal. “I accept your wager.”

[PREVIOUS CHAPTER - Awakening of the Hunter]

[NEXT CHAPTER - "The West Wind's Coming" ]

It has been a long while since the last update, and I am not sure anyone is still around reading this tbh, but if you are, thank you for still being with me :) I mostly focus on artworking and put my greatest effort in becoming a better artist, but this story is still very dear to my heart, so, I truly thank you if you are still with me <3

And also, pardon any typo or mistake I might have made: even when I beta read myself, some things might escape my eye.😅🙏

I hope you will like this <3

She had to fight the impulse to dry them against the white dress she was wearing. It was couture, for crying out loud.

"Tell me-“ she babbled, swallowing hard. “-tell me at least it's a double bed-" He shook his head, a sheepish smile on his face. Her face grew purple upon hearing that. Bloody hell. She knew it would end up like this. SHE KNEW IT. Leave it to her luck to give her exactly what she wanted - time alone with Shay - in the most embarrassing way. Clearing her voice, she tried to ignore the prickling warmth of her cheeks. "Very well, then. I will leave this room to you and find a place in another hotel-" "I already asked about it for myself, Poppet, and they are fully booked everywhere nearby. You know, with the Eurovision going on and all," Shay tilted his head as he crossed his arms against his chest. “B´sides, where you go I go. Your father wouldn’t be happy to be informed that I wasn’t doing the job he hired me for,”

Dorothea sighed, try with all her might to ignore her burning cheeks.

He had a point.

She looked once more her telephone, her eyes falling on the three smiling faces that were looking back at her.

She felt a surge of irritation run to her head.

She should have never accepted Charles and Phillip’s offer to make the reservation to the hotel for her, and knowing the penchant her cousins had to be nosy little buggers - especially when her sentimental life was concerned- they probably did it on purpose.

They knew that she had the biggest crush on Shay.

They KNEW IT.

So leave it to them to do precisely the opposite of what she asked, and not push her to reveal what she felt for Shay.

No, worse than that.

Leave it to them to put her in a situation where she would be closer than she had ever been to him.

Feeling Shay’s dark eyes on herself, she turned to look at him, as a strangled giggle left her throat.

What in the world was that sound she had just made? She thought, cursing herself with all her might.

“Just-just a moment. I need to send a message to my father to let him know we arrived,” she mumbled, before turning to tap furiously away on her mobile phone.

‘The moment I am back home, I am going to kill you both! That’s a PROMISE.’

And she would be sure to go through with that promise.

When she realized that Shay was still looking at her, she tried to relax her features, clearing her voice to regain her composure.

"Very well, then," she said, avoiding his eyes. " Shall we?"

With a small bow and a small smirk on his face, Shay opened his arm wide, letting her lead the way.

"After you, Princess."

Feeling her face growing even hotter, she used the magnetic card and pulled the handle. When she entered, her eyes were immediately drawn toward the bed.

It was a tad bigger than what she had imagined, but still too small than what she had liked.

Her heart started to beat in her chest now that the realization that he was going to be in the same bed with her.

She pursed her lips, looking at Shay from the corner of her eyes.

“Oh Dear God,” she thought again, as she glanced at his strong arms, the way his black shirt wrapped his chest and half tucked away in his jeans, her eyes pausing for one moment on his crotch, hidden under dark jeans, before forcing herself to look at the ceiling.

Dorothea knew she would never survive the night.

Not with him that close to her.

"I-I think I will go have a shower," she muttered under her breath, and before he could say anything, she had already disappeared into the bathroom, locking the door behind her.

With her back against the door, trying to take deep breaths, she took the phone out of her pocket, and quickly dialed Phillip's number.

He picked up at the second ring.

"Dor-"

"Phillip, I swear on your mother’s grave that the moment I am back to London I am going to strangle you with my own hands! What were you thinking?"

He heard him chuckle on the other side.

"Did you like my surprise?"

"Liked it? LIKED IT?” she hissed through her teeth, moving away from the door hoping that Shay did not hear her. “You know damn well what I feel for him! What the hell am I suppose to do with him now? In a room with just one bed?"

She heard him chuckle on the other side of the phone, and the irritation in her chest grew tenfold.

"You are the creative one in the family, cousin. And you got him for yourself all night. Better yet, for all the weekend. This is your occasion to finally get out of this limbo you put yourself into.”

(……)

While Dorothea was busy taking her shower, Shay had ordered room service. He knew Dorothea was vegetarian - at least he thought she was, if all the time he had accompanied her to various social events were any indication - so he had settled down ordering a pizza for both of them.

As he waited, he sat on the small bed, and looked at it. Damn it all, it was small.

He wasn't as big as Connor, but even then, there was barely enough space for both him and Dorothea.

His mouth was dry, as he tried to figure out how they would manage to get to sleep.

What if he snored and woke her up?

What if he drooled?

What if..

He tried not to imagine her body against his own, tried not to think at the obvious effect she would have on him while being in his arms.

He rubbed his eyes, because, what a fucking luck.

"Shay?" He heard her call him from the bathroom.

He jumped a little, absorbed as he was in his thoughts.

"Yes, Poppet?"

"Is my luggage here? Did they find it by any chance?”

"Unfortunately no, Poppet. Didn’t hear anything from the airport nor the reception, so I’m afraid your luggage is still lost,"

He heard her sighing from behind the door, and felt his stomach grip as he tried not to think about her completely naked, trying with all his might to stop his mind to run *precisely* to where it would always go each night before he fell asleep. He kneeled beside his own old, worn-out backpack, and took out an old t-shirt - a memento from a Led Zeppelin concert he went to with Edward and Ezio once- and a pair of men’s trunks.

He knocked at the door of the bathroom, and it opened just a smidgen, Dorothea's face peeking through the crack.

He swallowed hard when he saw her, the steam still rising from her wet skin, droplets of water still on her shoulder, her silver-blond hair plastered against her cheek-still tinted of bright red.

"H-here, you can use this for the night," he said, trying to sound normal. "I figured you might want something to-to wear underneath."

She unraveled the clothes and when he saw his undergarments, she blushed from her cheeks to her neck, eyes growing wide. She stood quiet, looking at the garments as if they had the power of bite her.

"I-Thank you, Shay. I will - I will dress now." she said, keeping the clothes to her chest and closing the door behind her.

Shay huffed at himself.

'Great, Shay, now she'll think you are a weirdo that gives underwear around,' he thought, rolling his eyes. It took all his strength not to facepalm himself. (...........)

()

"Goodnight," she murmured, giving him her back, as she faced the wall, leaning her burning forehead agains the cool wall, hoping to calm down, if only for a little bit. Shay gave her his back as well, despite wanting to do the exact contrary, and but tried to make himself as small as possible, to give her enough space to turn, if she wanted to. They were both lying straight as fuses, as uncomfortable as they could be, not daring to move one inch, afraid as they were to touch more of the other. Shay tried to ignore his gallopping heart in his chest and tried to close his eyes and drift into sleep, but all he could think about was the floral perfume of shampoo that came from her hair. He clenched his fist, as he tried not to think about his fingers running through those locks. They stood like that for what seemed an eternity, neither of them truly able to fall asleep, both of them thinking about the other. "What a situation, eh?" Dorothea heard him say as he chuckled under his breath. "Like one in those cheesy movies Lucia always denies to watch," she answered back with a smile. They both looked over their shoulders at the same time, dark eyes reflecting into a steel blue one, and both let out a loud laugh. She turned on her other side, now facing his broad back. Dorothea bit her lip, her hand moving toward his back without her even realizing what she was doing.

She lightly brushed her fingertips against the shirt, forcing herself not to fully caress him, despite how much she wanted it to. She brought her hand back to her chest when she saw him turning on his side as well, now facing her, his eyes looking straight into hers, the beams of the sun finally setting reflecting into them despite being already almost midnight. She could still clearly see the scar that ran through his eyes. "Looks like we're in for a long, sleepless night," he murmured, bringing one arm under his head. "Looks like it," she whispered back, her breath hitching in her throat when she saw him scooting closer. She had never been so close to him, so close that she could feel him breathing against her skin. "My shirt looks good on you," he chuckled, snuggling his face against his arm, a soft lock of dark hair falling on his eye. Dorothea felt her breath catch in her throat. "I-" she mumbled. She was always ready with a witty comeback, a way to get herself out of small moments of embarassment. But now, with him so close to her she could see all his expression lines, his cologne filling her nostril, she couldn't thinkg of anything, her mind only filled with thoughts of him. "Thank you." She blushed, averting her eyes. "And thank you for letting me use it. I will make sure to have the laundry service wash it tomorrow and give it back to you." He shook his head with a low chuckle. "Keep it, Poppet. It looks better on you," He only managed to let out a small chuckle. He couldn’t tell her how seeing her with only his shirt on affected him. Knowing that the course fabric that usually covered him was now against her bare skin. He had to fight the impulse to lower his eyes and take in all of her once more. Instead, His hand found its way to her cheek, as he gently brushed his knuckles against the soft skin. Oh God, she thought at his touch. She felt her skin warm up, cursing that he would feel it. "Thank you," she lowered her eyes one moment before looking back at him. He was still smiling at her. "What is it?" She asked.

"I know it's an inconvenience, having to share the bed with an oaf like me," he said."But if I have to be honest with you, Poppet, I'm actually happy it happened," "You are not an oaf, Shay," she blushed, before taking courage and scooting a little closer to him. “And if you want to know the truth…I am happy as well,” Shay's eyes lit up, his mouth agape. “Really?” She smiled. "Really," She scooted even closer, the skin on her face prickling. It was now or never. Leaning over to him, she brushed her lips against his, lingering for a moment to take in how warm they were - how soft. She felt the lingering taste of tobacco from the last cigarette he had smoked before coming back to the room, but despite usually hating smoke, she found herself not minding about it at all. It was something that made him him. When she broke the kiss, his breath against her own lips, her face was aflame and her stomach in a twist. Shay stared at her, eyes blinking as his mind spinned, trying to calm himself, his breath hitching in the back of his throat. But nothing could stop the blazing sensation that had started to pool in his loins. Not the kisses. He had imagined far too many times how it would feel kissing her, feeling Dorothea pressing herself against him, wrapping his arms around her body.

It always started with a kiss. He knew how it would end, if they were to start kissing. And he wanted it, so much it hurt. He breathed through his nostrils, trying to calm the need he had for her with all his might, head spinning as the blood fled from his brain. When Dorothea saw that he didn’t answer at all, she fought the impulse to hide her face against the pillow.

What if she had read all the signals wrong? What if she had seen something that just wasn't there? “I-I am sorry, Shay, I am so so sorry. I shouldn’t have.” she only whispered, as she started to turn to face the wall once more. Shay’s large hand found its way to the nape of her neck, making her look at him. The glint in his eyes was unquestionable, veiled as they were by unspoken lust. “Yes, you should have,” he murmured in a low husky voice that made Dottie shiver with pleasure. He pulled her against him and found her mouth with his, while his other hand found a way to the small of her back, pushing her even tighter against him. Dorothea let out a small moan that drowned in his throat, feeling that familiar clenching that enveloped her loins whenever she thought of him, when she was alone. She threw her arms around his shoulders, as he let his hands roam underneath the shirt she was wearing, feeling her soft skin underneath his palms. They were truly in for a long, sleepless night.

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I hope you will like this! I remember writing this while still trying to get the hang on how to write Shay, and I had so much fun because OMG this AU is probably one of my most favourite (aside from my own Camelot one, that is another one that has a HUGE part in my heart <3<3).

Also, keep in mind that Dorothea's characterization was still in the process of being developed, so she is a little less girlboss here than I actually like to imagine her to be with Shay usually.

But I still like how I portrayed them together.

I truly hope you will like this, I wouldn't mind starting to write again for them, in between artworks lolol