“Nothing, father.” 

Body turns to face the elder, young heart beating with a hummingbird’s wings in his chest. Guilt crawls across his skin like an army of ants, twists at his insides, but he hadn’t thought he had been doing anything wrong. 

(Do children ever think they are doing wrong?)

Ⓔ For my muse to walk in on yours taking a bath // @overlordmorzan​

Stupid rain, stupid mud. Why did everything have to get so slippy when wet? She couldn’t even remember what she was doing because the last thing she remember was being face-down in mud. She sat now in a full tub of water, doing everything she could to detangle her hair.

Hearing a noise behind her, Vivienne reached for Garjzla, but then she relaxed.

“Easy there, Morzan. I’ve got you.”

As skilled with sorcery and magic as Vivienne was, her talents lay opposite of healing. However, cauterizing the wound was something she was highly capable of doing. She assisted him with undressing, but forced him to sit/lying down afterward. 

Using Garjzla, her silver rider’s sword, was out of the question as it would be too large and clunky to maneuver. Instead, she drew a concealed dagger from her boot.

The winds are against us, we are coming.

Orion’s voice rang in her mind, soothing her worries as her hand trembled with the blade. This entire mission had been a failure: a trap, even.

“Morzan, this is going to hurt... and   I’m not sorry. Heitr bladerinn.”

The scene was frightening in its peace. In the way it could be anyone, in the way they almost resembled a family. The two men, so terrible and destructive with pastry and porcelain. He was asked a question, shaking him from his observations, and eyes turned to the maid. He could feel the king’s eyes on him as he did so. He tried not to shift, or to otherwise acknowledge it.