#rabespricht

bren   spits   out   blood   onto   the   stones.         he   pushes   himself   up   on   shaky   hands   and   knees.      he   can   bear   this;      he   can   bear   three   times   this.      he   must.

eadwulf   is   a   difficult   opponent.      @rabespricht​   and   astrid   are   his   only   equals,   as   they   have   always   been      —      but   wulf   is   different   because   wulf   is   brutal   in   ways   bren   and   astrid   cannot   manage.      for   he   is   strong      —      tall,   sturdy,   and   muscular.      his   edges   that   are   comfortably   soft   and   warm   sharpen   in   rexxentrum      —      as   they   should.      he   will   serve   the   empire   better   this   way.

it was the quick work of a teleport spell to bring them home ,  wulf’s arms tight around astrid as he takes them away  --  she doesn’t have the strength to cast it herself .  a burst of the matron’s cold healing later ,  astrid can at least stand on her own  --  though she doesn’t stand for long .  she sits up on the kitchen counter so she’s easier to reach ,  chin held high even as silence reigns between them .  she doesn’t stop him from starting

to clean blood off of her  --  after she protected him .

it had taken astrid a long time to slow down ,  nearly racing through the savalirwood .  her anger and her pain drives her on ,  further and further forward ,  and further and further away from fucking caleb and his fucking friends and their living prisoner .  but as her anguish cools ,  mellows ,  she remembers how hurt her @rabespricht​ is ,  and she makes herself stop ,  shaking in place .  makes herself use leftover spells to help set up a camp for them to spend the night ,  makes herself breathe and exist and inhabit her body as much as she can .

wulf heals his wounds ,  and astrid binds what’s left of them with trembling hands ,  and she sits across from him furious and shaking ,  barely even noting his increased proximity before his forehead leans against hers .  at this ,  it startles a sound out of her ,  though she leans into the touch ,  leans into his steadiness ,  desperate for it .

it’s with an audible sound of relief that astrid sinks into the water with him​ ,  tense muscles beginning to relax as the warmth starts to sink in .  it is ,  perhaps ,  more common for them to have time to relax now than they did before ,  but it’s still rare for them to take a moment like this ,  to go to a bath house and to pay for a private room to share ,  with a few more silvers thrown in to keep the attendant quiet about it .

astrid laughs lightly , bare feet padding across the floor to be able to stand by him . “ unfortunately , events like those are fairly common , ” she can’t help but to tease , even as she tucks her face between his shoulderblades — even as she is just as worn . “ and unfortunately , ‘ my bodyguard has sworn off formal functions ’ is not an acceptable excuse not to attend . ”

it had been a long and trying evening , she won’t argue against that — the type of high society event that she can remember idolizing and dreaming after as a student . she and wulf and bren had attended a few smaller than tonight’s when they were trent’s , showing off the poise that only he could have taught them . but astrid is in trent’s place now , and she has no broken children to display . of course , that puts more focus on her — the youngest , the newest , the first — even if others may attempt to talk around her .

it’s a lie , or at least it feels like a lie . but she knows that wulf is hurting just as much as she is , both outside and in — that they’ve kept ( or been made to keep ) their distance from one another thus far for a reason , whatever that reason may be . but to go from three to two to only one in the wake of such world - shattering other changes . . . it’d been an unexpected blow , after years of half - expected strikes . the three of them had done this together , would always do it together . . . but it had gone down in flames .

so maybe it’s a lie , but it’s a lie that astrid is desperate to hear . she tucks her head against wulf’s chest , for comfort and to hide the sting of tears . she should be stronger than this — stronger than the pull towards sentiment , than being pulled into the dark hole left behind by bren’s absence . @rabespricht is her only anchor — but she is also his .