#sive

“You’re all the same to me.”

“That hurts. My country is a completely different kind of shit than this one.”

“I see one more fucking cow again it will be too soon.” 

Travel had been strained the last week since they had turned North towards the Highland country. 

The good news was that a village had caught their eye. They were less than a day from hot food. God willing some new clothes. A bed.

Merciful Jesus a bed. Tovar solemnly swore if there was only one room available he would make William sleep in the fucking stable. 

They had some gold and silver left in their pockets from China and he had never offered coins to someone faster than when the woman at the inn said she had a room. 

After a moment she shrugged, “Only the one left, will that suffice?”

Pero grumbled incessantly about having to keep looking at William’s hideous face but the two men were used to sharing close quarters. 

There was no bath to be bought but there was a wash basin that the poor chamber girl had to replace three times as the men were positively caked with dirt. Pero eyed William fiercely, “You got the last bed, I was in a stockade.”

William snorted, “Fair. We will swap next time.”

Pero nodded and let himself fall onto the bed-- stuffed with straw it did smell a little mildewy but he could have just slept there until William said, “Food?”

“Mm.” Tovar gave some grumble resembling agreement and rolled off the bed.

The offerings were slim: thick tasteless brown bread, lard, cider. Ale if they wanted, and they wanted. 

The meal was at least part of their board tonight but they wanted to be careful. Lin had sent William off with gold but it did not do to throw much around. They were used to living hand to mouth, they could live hand to mouth if they needed to again. 

William had kept the clawed hand of the creature wrapped in an old cloak and now hid it under the bed in their room rather than risk a stableboy finding it on the saddle. The iron arrow he kept buried in the quiver with the rest, only the tip covered in a scrap of the dead man’s shirt. 

They watched the townspeople around them.

“Are we close?” Tovar spoke through a mouthful of bread, both of his hands full of his next bites.

William shrugged, “Closer than before, the accent is changing over. Do you hear it?”

Tovar ate another bite of the bread and began quickly drinking the cider, “You all sound the same to me.”

____________________________________________________

They hadn’t been as close as they hoped...but close enough to get closer.

It was another two weeks before they were anywhere where a woman named Sive meant anything to anyone.

And by then the claw William was dragging along with them stank. 

Tovar had complained a bluestreak about it, finally suggesting they shoot something just so they could wrap the thing in some skin and tuck herbs or sweet grass or flowers in with it. 

He’d have given his own arm soon just to make some headway towards this reward.

It was a smaller town. They were in the publick house but there were no rooms to rent. Travelers did not often enough pass through.

“None?” Tovar had grumbled.

“What do you care?” William countered, “You were on the floor anyway.”

“I would have liked to be on a floor inside.” 

“People in hell surely thirst but alas.” William shrugged and as the men sipped at their ale he engaged the bartender in smalltalk, feeling out how helpful the woman might be.

She had regaled them with stories about the weather and the pig-farmer’s boy born with a curly tail and all other small devilry that might shock and amuse strangers, and also convince them to leave.

A town with no inn: they were not keen on having strangers nest in here.

All the better, “We were hoping you might direct us somewhere?”

William let his accent grow thick and the matron smiled, “Where?”

“None too sure...we were told to look for a woman named Sive. Got something that belongs to her.”

“Sive?....Red-haired lass?”

“I wouldn’t know. The man we met was dying he was rambling, had this.” William produced the iron-tipped arrow.

It quieted the bar.

People looked at one another and a few left the room.

Pero noticed and the matron sighed, “Ye aren’t the first we’ve set to her path...I was hoping it were curiosity and not the arrow.”

“What does the arrow mean?” Pero asked, still eyeing the people who were leaving the bar as if this arrow would somehow corrupt their evening. 

The matron tried to smile but it was a hard smile, it was true and cruel and teasing and fair, “Death.”

______________________________________________

“Don’t say it.” William said as he and Tovar went to the stables next to their horses, both of them with a hand on their swords.

“Which part? That I hate your shit country, this was all a waste of our time? Or since it is death waiting for us we should just leave now. There will always be war by Rome, let’s go there.” 

William’s smile was tight, “You know what I’ll say.”

Tovar growled.

He knew.

Death paid well.

If you didn’t die. 

“Fuck.” Tovar grumbled and curled himself against a wall for what sleep might be gathered.

He was not in control here and wondered, vaguely, if he ever would be again. 

______________________________________________

It was another two weeks on the road before small queries pointed them to paths and finally one shepherd laughed, “Sive? Over the next two hills, before the forest. Cottage. Can’t miss it.”

That made it sound so...sweet. Homey even.

Which is not what happened when an arrow landed at their feet as they came up the road.

“WHO ARE YE?” 

Both of them hopped off the horses, got low, took out their weapons.

They didn’t respond, first trying to see how many attackers they had to concern themselves with fighting.

Two more arrows came, “ARE YE DEAF?”

“NO!” William called back, “WE ARE LOOKING FOR SOMEONE.”

“NONE HERE BUT ME.” A fourth arrow struck by them.

William held up four fingers and Tovar nodded.

Too many arrows.

This was not someone expecting a real fight, or they would not have wasted so many in a warning. He reached out experimentally and pulled one out of the ground.

Blunt tipped.

Fine for rabbits, wouldn’t do much against men in armor.

He held it up for Tovar’s inspection and the Spaniard rolled his eyes, “I’m not talking with her...this was your brilliant idea.”

William rolled his eyes.

Ever the charmer. 

“YOU THE GOLD-TORQUED WOMAN?” William yelled out.

A pause.

A long pause.

Then a throwing sound and a dagger landed an inch from William’s hiding spot.

Tovar glared at him, hissing, “How many weapons does she have?!”

“ENOUGH TO DEFEND MYSELF!” 

The woman’s voice was hoarse, but closer, and then she tried again in a calmer tone, “How did ye hear about a torque? Who sent ye?”

William held up the arrow he had taken from the stranger. Let it stay up in the air long enough that he saw he was neither stabbed nor shot.

“Ye can rise, I want a look at ye.”

Tovar snorted, “You first glorious leader.”

William made a rude gesture to the Spaniard and then slowly stood up. When he didn’t die Tovar followed. William’s bow was in his large hands, cocked, but pointed at the ground rather than at the woman. Tovar felt this was idiotic and had his sabre high enough that if he had to clip an arrow that was coming towards him he at least had a chance.

In front of them was a woman.

She didn’t appear to have a torque visible on her neck. 

Instead she was just a woman. Tall. Strong looking and wielding a dagger with a stance that indicated she knew how to use it.

But a dagger...surely this was not the best she had?

Tovar saw a person with sure feet and good form and wanted them to be able to pick the best weapon for the struggle. It didn’t sit well with him that she had a close weapon when she was outnumbered.

She had the bow over one shoulder with the quiver at her feet. The dagger was good for hunting. Maybe they had just caught her finding her dinner and this was the best short notice had allowed for.

Her hair was pulled away from her face but it was a mess of curls, the color glowed red like a gemstone even from the distance they were at… Tovar had only seen a few red-headed women in his time and none quite looked like this. Her face was round but her chin looked as sharp as the dagger with a nose that was obscured in a rash of freckles that made it appear darker than the rest of her face. 

The eyes he could not see from here.

And the form… not dainty nor delicate, but strong. He thought she could hunt more than rabbits and use the knife to take them. Her breasts hung heavy in the dress she had which was high and thick against the bite of chill in the air. 

She held up a dagger, “Did ye kill a man to get that arrow or did the monster?”

She demonstratively switched the dagger to a less threatening grip, held up her hands in innocence, and sheathed the blade. William lowered his bow but kept it notched, Tovar did not lower the blade yet. He knew women could be violent, he knew they could cut, and he was not yet prepared to accept trust here.

“We’ve killed men, and killed monsters, but this time we just killed the monster. It got the man -- he gave us the arrow. Told us to come looking for a gold-torqued woman. Would that be you?”

She considered his words carefully, not blinking, and then gave a curt upcut of her jaw, “Aye.”

William tossed the bag containing the monster’s severed hand.

She said nothing but stared at the putrid and rotting stump.

Then she sheathed her dagger.

"Ye must be starving if ye've been traveling as long as it seems, come in. I'll feed ye. There's a stream for bathing. Straw for sleeping on." 

"Who are you?" William prodded.

She nearly laughed and then she bowed, "Sive, at your service." 

Only then did Tovar lower his sword as William introduced them both.

________________________

They had, indeed, caught her at hunting but she had a rabbit already.

She was cleaning it and adding it to stew as the two of them took turns at cleaning off the road and bringing up fresh water from her creek. 

She said passing little to them but they both noted that having inspected the hand she did not touch it, and William collected it. She asked only that they “leave it by the gate” as though bringing it into her home was unsatisfactory. 

Without saying much to one another the men took an account of what they saw.

Of what they didn’t see.

Tovar was helping William carry the water back with them when he said, “She lives alone.”

“I think so.” William agreed.

“No husband. No father. No brothers.”

“Yes that’s what alone often means.” William huffed but Tovar elbowed him.

“Do they let many of your women live alone?”

“This isn’t my country for all you seem to think it is.” William shrugged, “Though I would think it a bad sign...someone put her out.”

“Why?” Tovar scratched at his beard, “Do you think it’s to do with the monster?”

“Mayhap.”

Then Tovar’s hand wandered from his chin to the back of his neck, he wondered if she was alone or if she was lonely. He would not be shocked to hear, perchance, a little of both. Life had taught him that women alone had to learn how to live, how to thrive, or they did not live alone, or did not live long. A woman who could not keep herself would find a man who could, even if she did not particularly care for him.

He wondered how she cared for herself.

He wondered.

She was a striking woman. Something about how she held the dagger with such ease caught his eye-- she was not afraid of it, it was more than a tool. 

He was watching her as she scuttled between the kettle and the pot and the table, the knife flickering between her fingers with ease as she prepared something for guests.

“Yes?” She finally snipped at him, catching the eyes that were on her.

He liked the sharpness to her edges.

She indicated the table and let them sit and dig in.

"Why are you out here alone?" 

“People are alone for many reasons, not all make suitable dinner conversation.” 

Tovar was wolfing down the bread she offered, “Why did he say gold torque? What is that? Do you have one?”

Sive regarded his hunger with interest. She was making some estimation about his manners from how he swallowed everything in front of him though what that was he was damned if he knew. 

She reached down the neck of her dress and produced a necklace-- it was a thick cord of gold and sat in an incomplete circle around her neck. At each end was a serpent’s head with mouth’s open. 

William whistled at it, “A pretty trinket for a farm girl.”

“She’s no farm girl.” Tovar had no interest in playing games, “Or she wouldn’t have it short of stealing it. So where is she from? And why does she have it?”

“It isn’t stolen.” She narrowed her eyes at the Spaniard, “And I am from near-enough parts. It is a long tale but this is mine to offer as a prize.”

“Find a way to shorten the story.” He shrugged as he drank his ale. She shook her head at his stomach: he seemed to be willing to eat as much as she put in front of him. Almost to test that theory she gave the small brown cakes she had baked this morning and almost without pause Tovar put one in his mouth, “Where are your men?”

She laughed at that, “Do I need one?”

“No.” He shrugged, “But it is a place to start because otherwise I have to wait for you to find a place to start and I have no patience.”

“That sounds true.” She sat back on her chair comfortably, “My father died many years ago. My brother was barely an infant, he does not remember him. My mother married another man who came through these parts. He said he was a soldier. I’ve never believed it. But he convinced my mother to trust him. The trouble started when her husband turned his eye on my brother and I. See. My father had the high seat of these parts. A laird. Not a king, as ye might think, but something of a ruler here. My father was respected. His reach was vast. And that...pretender...it was not his seat to take. It was mine. Mine first, then my brother’s. The man did not think this was the way...so he chased me out, and my brother he took on a hunt and lost. But what he does not know is that those with him on the hunt...they do not want him to take my father’s seat. My brother is alive, I believe. I have had word from witnesses of his last locations and I think he escaped death. Alive and trapped on an island that is cursed and hard to get to. If any help me recover him, alive, I will give them this gold so that my brother and I can take our seat back.”

She shrugged, “Long and short, as best I can do without giving ye a proper lesson in our history. I’ve had those lessons-- they are not terribly engaging.”

William and Tovar shared a look and then William sipped his drink, “You want help rescuing your brother? What if he’s dead?”

“I will not know for certain until I get there, and I cannot get there alone.” Sive sighed, “But the necklace would be yours upon return whether or not he lives.”

Dinner was fairly silent after. Tovar reached over towards William’s plate only to have his hand slapped away. They thanked her and asked if there was work she needed help with for their board.

“If ye are taking the quest a bed is the least I can offer. The rest will be difficult.” 

Tovar rolled his eyes: Of course it would. 

"Bed's mine." William eyed him and Tovar started mumbling a long streak of insults against William's mother and he laughed, "Doesn't change the deal." 

Tovar just faced her with the silent question and she nodded towards the barn, “There’s fresh hay for ye. Don’t bother my horses.”

He caught her eye.

Just for a moment.

She was raking them up and down him and he noticed.

He gathered his things slowly, eyeing her.

A good-looking woman.

He took his time wandering from the house out to the stable, waiting until he saw her gather up a shawl and a knife and make to take her own bath.

He looked around, out of habit, not that he really cared if anyone saw. You go enough places and you begin to care a whole lot less what everyone thinks about you. Sometimes women hated the look of him, other times it charmed. He wouldn't know if he didn't try. China hadn't been as friendly to him as to William. But mercenary life was not kind to those who didn’t learn to walk up and assert themselves, to take things, to read the room around them.

He watched her as she walked towards the creek and she noticed, turning her head halfway towards him.

For a long moment she said nothing. Neither did he.

He would not pretend that he was walking this way for some other excuse. She did not have to pretend it either. He was waiting for her response.

“The stables are that way.” She pointed.

He snorted at his bad luck and followed where she pointed, though even a fool could see where the stables were.

He found an empty stall and saw where the straw was laid out. He got to nesting himself a dry spot. 

He’d had worse beds than this.

At least it had a roof.

He had just finished when he heard the steps and he knew, at least, who they didn’t belong to.

Maybe his luck was not so bad, but he had no patience at this hour for games.

“Come and keep me warm or leave me to get comfortable.”

She laughed from just a few feet down the stable from him, “Is that an attempt at a seduction?”

“We can both be beasts or we can both be alone-- seduction isn’t part of it.” He shrugged, “Your home, your choice.”

“Aye.” She nodded, “That it is.”

When she turned the corner of the door to his stall he saw she was in the simple dress of dinner, but her face was scrubbed clean.

Her eyes really were quite blue, deep like water, startlingly blue. She raked them over him, and then crossed the threshold, falling onto him like a wave, settling herself on his lap and finding his mouth as though she had reason to be hurried.

He groaned into her lips.

Fuck.

It had been such a long time and such a long road.

He was straining for relief from his pants in minutes and she let his fingers pull at the ties of the front of the dress to loosen it and take out a tit. Then his hand slipped between them and found her core, testing and teasing it, growling at her moans and sighs, but before he could do it himself she yanked him out of his trousers and sank onto him, still on his lap in the barn.

He cursed in Spanish and she bit his ear, keening at the fit.

He was panting a little and had to take a moment to get his bearings but she started to move and he moved with her-- he pushed back, his fingers found her sensitive knot, his mouth wound around her nipple. 

He was not one to look a gift-horse in the mouth.

He vaguely wondered if she was lying about a husband because she seemed wanton and wanting and knew what her hips were doing to him.

          But he wasn't going to ask that right now. If she was content to pleasure and give pleasure he could be content. He was not a lapdog. He was not a pampered pet. 

He enjoyed the presence of her on his lap, enjoyed the squeeze on her hips, enjoyed the feel of her flesh, and tried to chase her breathing until it sounded as choked and desperate as he was. In his gruff whisper he would ask Here? Or This? And she was quickly doing the same. It was not something that required a lot of talk of them--they moved with ease, fell into a rhythm, and no shyness.

After neither moved for long minutes until she pulled a shaking leg over his lap and he slouched down on the straw next to her. They were both breathing hard at first and did not talk, but they had disrupted their clothes and he curiously pulled at her ties to run a finger up and down her neck and down her breastbone. She watched his face.

He didn’t spew romanticisms or try to push her off.

He was content in this simple place, not expecting to get more than what was in front of him, happy with it, and, also, figured he had made his contentment known and felt no need to fiddle with words right now.

She didn’t feel smothered by the quiet, and she was used to the quiet. She was alone often with only the sounds of the animals for company and disrupting the silence was not something she often did.

An alarmed bird call echoed and Tovar sat up, disrupting Sive's lounging on his chest, and he raised a finger to indicate silence. Slowly they both covered themselves and craned their necks to look out the stable window. 

"What call is that?" She whispered-- it was no bird she knew. 

"William." Tovar confirmed her suspicion and his eyes got sharp, searching for what would make his friend sound an alarm. 

Then they saw it: orange flickers starting small and building...smoke coming from Sive's house vaguely outlining figures with torches.

___________________________________________________________

A/N: Have you guys missed the Grumpy Spaniard since The Cross ended? Me too.

Not Beta Read, ever. 

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