𝕷𝖔𝖞𝖆𝖑 𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉

She had closed her eyes for only a moment, allowing herself to be engulfed in the security of being tucked away in this room and away from all other worries for the moment. His presence was more calming, even despite what all had occurred just minutes ago. Though pulled back into old flight and freeze induced responses that muscle memory kept, fear was the last thing she associated Vigor with.

Nox hears his footsteps approaching once more and finds herself peering at him from behind dark lashes while he sets the chair down with ease in the perfect spot. Just within reach. She slips her hand from beneath the covers and to the one that is outstretched in her direction. Digits dance along his palm, tracing all of the lines that are created as it curls around hers. Life, heart, fate, and everything in between.

How many a fortune teller would tell him of their curves and intersections, how he might handle his emotions or if he is to live a long or a short life. Nox had taught herself all of their secrets to reading those lines. But none of that mattered. For they might as well be sealing their own fate in this moment; no line reading required.

His voice brings her back to the present, the sigh he heaves and the way his thumb glides along her knuckles brings a soft blush to the apples of her cheeks. ❝I understand your hesitations...❞ She whispers in turn. ❝It was tense...and seeing as though you were not my betrothed, it might've seemed improper...even if it was just a comforting touch amongst those who would not have divulged such actions...❞ Nox gives him a softer smile there as her hand squeezes his in turn. ❝I was worried when i found consciousness and you were not near...scared that you had been hurt.❞

At his request, though, Nox pursed her lips to hide the smile that wanted to turn her lips up. She could've shared that dream with him, of course, but he said to imagine it. So imagine it she would try. Nodding softly against the pillow, Nox brought her other hand up and under her cheek as she normally would when sleeping and hunkered down a bit more into the warmth of the blanket and sheets.

Truthfully, Nox knew not if she could even sleep. It may have been an excuse to see herself out earlier as to not disturb him any further or cause him to be any more upset with her turned into this. Something that she could not have pictured before. He was a dream, a fantasy that she could not hold onto the idea of. But instead, their hands were now grasping onto one another. Her life depended on it. She knew that was what he thought in this moment.

Nox could deliver him that much solace. Even if it was just for the night. She was still tangible. Still a living being of this world. Her flesh would still be warm and her heart would beat steadily in her heart as the sun brought in the new day. The flush of life would tinge her skin pink upon her lips and cheeks.

And behind closed eyelids, Nox thought of that perfect life. Somewhere, far, far, beyond Randolph's reach could ever find her. A home. A garden full with blossoming life and a river nearby where the weeping trees could grant a private audience within their branches. No longer hidden behind a curtain of black. And a man, so elegant in his words and promises, standing with an arm outstretched to her, just as it is now. Oh what a dream it would be.

For once, the oracle falls asleep in but a few moments. And dreams this peaceful dream.

To hold her hand as she drifts into sleep was a quiet sort of redemption. It could not make up for his mistakes, but felt like the first bud from a troubled seed. It hurts to know she worried about him back in the temple. It had not occurred to Vigor that she might not remember he was barely injured, given her significantly more severe state. He would apologise and explain if it wouldn't disturb her from falling asleep now.

What little sleep he gets is at least comforted by the welcoming warmth of the dawn filtering through the windows. At least he knows he wasn't dragged off to the dungeon during the night. A small victory, and a good start. He considers trying to make up for those lost, restless hours, but instead begins his promise to Nox as soon as he finds the strength to leave her side.

    He will need the quiet hours before either their families wake up to begin his work.

    Vigor slips away carefully, gently opening the door just enough to check for guards on either side of the hallway. Nothing. Reluctantly, Vigor must go hunting for a friendly face.

    It isn't long before he spots Asiran, somehow even more tired than he is. She never liked early patrols. Perhaps the sight of a half-awake guard should concern Vigor, but instead, it comforts him. If she's not alert, then their guards aren't aware of any treat at present.

    The sight of one another seems to wake both of them up, blinking in tandem, grateful but confused. They both stumble to speak first (and coherently).

    ❝Are you always up this early?❞ Asiran mumbles, offended that he is willingly out of bed. Vigor knows it's rhetorical. He'd play along if there weren't more pressing matters.

    ❝I need you for something,❞ he whispers. Her expression shifts slowly from confusion to concern. Did he just say that? Shit, he did. Asiran grunts and motions for Vigor to lead the way.

    He guides her back to his room. No one in the hallway, yet, but he's far less worried about being seen inviting Asiran in. A witness would be more likely to assume he'd killed someone in the night than that they were sleeping together. He isn't her type.

    Asiran's shock steals the gasp from falling from her lips. No, wait, she just had to yawn. Her eyes adjust to the woman curled up in Vigor's bed and her grin lights up her otherwise weary face.

    ❝It's not what it looks like.❞

    Unamused, Asiran glares at Vigor. The look he gives her back is sincere, leaving Asiran with even more questions. Why was Nox in his bed if not for that? The guards aren't blind. Asiran had seen how Vigor ignored everyone but Nox in a crowded room.

    Vigor considers just how much he should tell her; enough to prepare her for what he may ask of her in the days or weeks to come and to, hopefully, convince her they did nothing unbecoming.

    ❝You know about her visions, right? Well, she showed me. I'll tell Irnvar later. For now, I'm heading to the greenhouse, then fetching her handmaid.❞

    Asiran's eyes light up. ❝I have a favour to ask,❞ she states coolly. Vigor is unamused, but must at least hear her out, given what he is asking from her. ❝The haindmaid is cute,❞ Asiran coos, ❝put in a good word in for me.❞

    Vigor rolls his eyes, before nodding and grinning. ❝I won't be long,❞ he says before slipping back out the door, handing Asiran a key on the way out.

    Anxiety keeps Vigor company along the way to the greenhouse, wondering if it would have been better to just have Asiran keep watch rather than placing her inside the room. He wants to forgive himself for potentially making less than ideal plans, given his exhaustion, but he cannot help but wonder how long he has before someone catches on.

    No matter what he did, or could have done, someone will soon notice Nox outside her room.

    He should have just had Asiran escort her back to her room. Tell any witnesses she was found wandering the halls, restless or searching for the gardens.

    But he'd made his choice, and would simply have to hurry.

Asiran locks the door behind her, wondering why that bastard (affectionate) had dragged her into his mess. She wants to trust that he really, really didn't just sleep with his brother's bride-to-be, hoping he'd be smarter about keeping something like that under wraps. The only problem was, what he claimed happened seemed far, far stranger than finally sleeping with the woman he's not-so-subtly been pining over.

    Asiran understands sex. She can forgive sex. She cannot forgive being forced into a conspiracy at the ass-crack of dawn.

    But at least it's for Nox. She likes Nox.

    Vigor really owes her this time.

    A knock on the door feels like a bucket of cold water being poured over her. She jolts to attention. The knock echoed through the heavy door, but was far gentler than it could have been. It wasn't a call to action, but rather the sound of a concerned guard trying to inform, not alarm, a potentially sleeping lord. A familiar voice whispers from the other side of the door.

    ❝Vigor? Vigor?❞ Haral calls.

    Perhaps Haral noticed she'd gone missing from her post. That, or they know Nox isn't in her bed, and Vigor has run out of what lttle time he had. Either way, Asiran drops her voice into her stomach and replies. ❝Is this important? I'm praying. To—you know—Lathander?❞ Asiran says uncertainly, doing her best impression of a pious but tired lordling.

    ❝Last time I caught you ❛praying❜ I was traumatised for a week.❞

    Asiran struggles to suppress her laugh. Looking at Nox helps her keep quiet, desperate not to disturb the poor woman.

    ❝We can't find Asiran,❞ he adds.

    ❝Check the other girl's beds. Maybe that one stablegirl. Yeah, her,❞ Asiran fumbles. Improv was not the guard's forte.

    There is a pause, and then, a sigh.

    ❝Asiran please let me in.❞

    She panics. It's only Haral, sure, but Vigor trusted her with his secret. Fuck him for dragging her into this, but she still didn't want to ruin whatever he was planning.

    Unsure what choice she has, she unlocks the door.

    Haral stares at Nox, then at Asiran, then back at Nox, mouthing the words ❛What the fuck is wrong with you.❜

    Asiran shrugs and whispers. ❝I have a type.❞

    Stunned, Haral struggles to process what he's seeing. ❝Where's Vigor?❞

 His words, though deep and quick, bubble up a slight bit of laughter, more embarrassed at herself than anything that she had spoken so quickly. Of course, she might have understood the consequences, but between what they had shared in these quiet morning hours.

Such affections could've been pity, but Nox felt that they were more amorous than anything. The way he speaks of holding her hand is more reverent, like the way he had been before her on his knees like a goddess that deserved worship instead of the scorn and hatred she had received.

❝You deserve more than just to hold my hand. You've held me together this entire time. When I was lost, you guided me 'round...when I was hurt, you came to my rescue. It is because of you that I still yet live. And that is why I wish to give you so much more in this life...even if it means that I cannot be here to witness it.❞ She smiles up at him, raising a hand softly to cup his cheek again, unafraid of the ghosts that will haunt her in her peripherals.

❝I would give you the world if I could...but if all I can give is my hand for the night, for the time being, it is yours to take.❞ Nox whispers. It is torment to stand here together, so close, and to have to hold herself back. The oracle understands what kind of position she has put him in. Being emotional and seeking rescue would not make for the best moments to be intimate with one another, even if it is stealing longing kisses and touches.

❝Let us move your chair, then. Unless you have one already poised within your bedchambers.❞ Her gaze drifts to her hand that cups his cheek and allows for her thumb to smooth along it a moment more before she decides to finally release his tunic from her hands and turns to walk further into his room.

Nox does not look around his room out of fear of prying further into his life than she already has. What would people think of her? Betrothed to the eldest, only to weasel her way into that of the younger brother's heart?

How cruel and wicked the pale witch must be.

But it is only they who know the truth. They are the only ones to experience the violence and the fear. To have come to injury at the hands of people they thought they knew and could trust.

Pale hands smooth along the reddened marks upon her arm, knowing that her frail skin would turn color in just the next few days. Bruising could be hidden easily, though. He should not be subjected to knowing that he had caused her any pain in the moments of mental calamity she had set upon him.

Pulling back the covers upon his bed, her lithe frame slid underneath the top sheet before settling in a comfortable spot along the edge in which he may settle his chair so that they could still be near one another. Almost immediately is she soothed further. His scent lingers on the pillows and sheets that surround her and overwhelm her senses. Maybe if fate would play in their favor, they would be able to share in their nights together, not separated by distance of chairs by bedsides. A dream too sweet to even dare allow herself to have.

Whatever peace they may be willing to share in tonight is all she could hope for in this life. To finally feel safe. If only for one brief night.

When she speaks of all he had done for her, all Vigor can hear is the parts unsaid: how it wasn't enough. But it will be, come morning. If Irnvar cannot be persuaded, they had other options. He only wished he'd figured it all out sooner.

     Where he once would have blamed his actions on duty, Vigor can now be honest. It is far more than duty that forced him through the mob. If he only cared for his father's plans, he never would have opened his door and allowed Nox in this night. It was a harrowing thought.

    Tears well in his eyes as she continues. A memory flickers like the last smoulders in a cold hearth. Perhaps he knew such affection, somewhere deep beyond the borders of his home, but in the moment he cannot recall it. Such kindness felt foreign.

    Give yourself to me, and you would give me the world.

    Unspoken words burn on his tongue. Vigor had only just calmed his amorous heart. He would not sabotage things now by saying anything more. The sooner they both sleep, the sooner morning will come.

    There is an emptiness where her hand once gripped his shirt. Vigor is unsure what to do with his hands, torn between caressing the ghost of her touch, and folding his hands behind himself where they can be trusted not to do anything unbecoming.

    Rushing back to the hearth to grab the heavy chair proved a fine distraction, if only for a moment. But a moment was all he needed to settle himself.

    Vigor sees the marks he left on her arms. Before Nox wakes, he will have to get her a shawl or other covering for her escort back to her room. He can only hope he reaches Asiran or his other close guards before the others catch on to what happened this night. Not only can Vigor trust them with this secret, but they may also prove helpful in the days to come.

    Hopefully Bet will understand how the bruises came to be. Still, he'd rather brew Nox a potion before the handmaiden sees how he hurt her, even if it was done in error.

    He places the chair down carefully to avoid making a sound before settling in, hand outstretched towards her. Vigor cannot help but take in the image of her between his sheets. Her own guest bed was likely more lavish than his, but when he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, he finds himself imagining another life. He pictures her asleep in a hobbled oak bed covered in well-worn blankets. He paints her in the golden eastern morning light, her fair skin reflecting the green of a lush garden just outside the window, in a home far away from this life.

    ❝I wanted to do this before, in the temple, but I couldn't obstruct the healers working through the night...❞ Vigor sighs. He squeezes her hand gently, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. ❝I want you to do something for me,❞ he whispers, leaning closer. ❝Dream of your perfect life, one you always wished for, and I will grant it upon waking.❞

❝Hope...that is all I have left to give. Even if it's something as simple as a bountiful crop or a healthy babe to be born.❞ She speaks softly, despite his imploring her to worry for her own well-being. But that's not the kind of person she wanted to be. Though, she is not surprised that Bet has spoken to Vigor, asked of him to help her. She is her greatest companion, her biggest advocate, and the most inquisitive woman she's ever had the pleasure of knowing.

❝You wouldn't have to worry about my suffering if I was sent away. I know that you wish for me to live, and I have promised you that I would hold on...but if it was to go badly here and your father sent us away, I was ready to end it on my terms. Bet secured herbs for a concoction...stronger than that of what they gave me in the healing halls...and I would've slept and slipped away, never to be manipulated again.❞

There had been many conversations about this between her and Bet. It was not as dark as the dreams of the rope, but her own version of eternal rest.

His delicate hands cause a shiver up her spine. Nox takes care, though, to still her muscles so he doesn't think he's making her uncomfortable. If anything, it's the complete opposite. In his presence, she has never felt more safe. She sought his company most during the day, more so after the incident in town.

Vigor had protected her, and though he had said it was his duty, this moment they share now speaks louder than anything. Maybe he hadn't been infatuated with her back then, but he must've cared for her in some greater capacity to willingly throw himself into the waves of mobs and put his own life at risk.

The kiss upon her hair atop her head sends her heart thrumming within her chest. How could one single touch of affection could make her feel something so impossibly right? There was nowhere else she wanted to be in this moment.

She was not expecting him to draw her in, though. For a brief second, the oracle is still. Finding her courage and battling the notion that this would only cause more pain, Nox returns the embrace. Her arms wrap around his midsection, gripping him so tightly; the beating of his heart is one of the most soothing experiences she's ever been through. He holds her together in that moment, and when he pulls away, she moves with him, her hands still grasping at the sides of his shirt.

❝If we are to take from fate, then let me have this night with you beside me. Just to sleep...I know I would rest better...i-if you were nearer to me...❞

The handmaid knew of her lady's suffering far better than he does. Better than anyone. He cannot imagine how difficult those discussions must have been. But still, Vigor had hoped Bet would have known better than to consider such a thing. He wants to ask her when Bet brewed this potion. Was it after the attack in the city, or before they even came to Everguard? Either way, he clearly has not done enough to reassure either of them. His promise to Bet, saying he'd find a way out for Nox, was still only a series of early ideas. If he actually settled on a plan and began laying the groundwork, perhaps they wouldn't feel the need to consider such options.

    Tomorrow, once their heads are clear after a good night's rest, and they find a place where they can all talk freely, he will begin discussing the options with both woman.

    It hurts to hear, but perhaps he needed to hear it. It is simply further proof that their is no option other than her freedom from Randolph. She must leave, with or without him.

    However, having now shared their feelings, or even just a fraction of them in Vigor's case, he wonders if there is another path for her, here, in Everguard.

    If Randolph does not actually care who Nox marries, because it's not really about the marriage, then perhaps Irnvar can get the dowry and keep his eldest on the market. No one would ever pay such a high price for a simple bastard second-born, unless that person cared only for one thing: getting closer to Irnvar.

    They have her visions, her testimony, and everything she can tell them about his armies and allies. So long as Irnvar listens, they might not just prevent whatever disaster Randolph would fell upon his house, but take him down once and for all. The Shieldbearers would reclaim what they can from their fallen enemy, bringing in more than that just a dowry.

    Vigor likes to imagine Irnvar would admire his scheming, so long as his father's pride lets him see the truth. But what bastard hasn't convinced themselves they can earn their father's respect?

    He is briefly grateful at how she grips his shirt, because when she invites him to join her, his feet almost fail him. She grounds him in that moment. He isn't sure he has the strength to push her away twice. Still, he had to find that will. She is far too vulnerable for the thoughts that consume him.

    Besides, though the arrangement to Cain was no longer worth protecting, until he actually sets a plan in motion, rumours would still cause them grief. Joining her would only increase the risk of harm befalling her before he can safely get her away from Randolph for good.

    Gods, he could slip out of his nightshirt now. She could grab him by the hand or grip him by the waist and drag him into bed with her. For all his protesting now, he'd follow dutifully if she lead him. If they were betrothed, he would deny her nothing.

He is not wrong to question her. Bet has asked her the same question over and over again. Nox has always just shrugged her shoulders and explained that it is still her duty, even though it was still just the pronged collar tugged in demand for obedience from the hand that holds her leash.

❝My mother taught me a golden rule as a child that, no matter what I have been through, I cling to in desperation in hopes that others have been taught the same. Giving unto others as you would have unto you...sometimes I can give people hope or guidance they seek. Not everyone that has crossed my path has been cruel or unkind...❞ She speaks quietly, reflecting on he continued compliance.

❝I have seen firsthand the cruelty that my father can inflict onto others, what he can steal away from me with just the snap of his fingers or the bark of an order. If I can warn people anonymously of his intentions, we can usually get out and leave people unscathed...❞

But her gaze lingers with his just as he pushes the long locks behind her ear. Normally, her eyes would have tracked the hand had it belonged to anyone else. And as he leans close and whispers his wanting of her vision, a softer, saddened smile plays on her lips.

How she wished it, too, could be possible. But up until now, she'd never been able to see herself in any of the visions given to her. Even when his father snatched her hand to make sure she was still capable of seeing his climb to power, she was nowhere in sight.

❝I pray to the gods every night in hopes that they would give me sight of my own future...but they have remained silent. It is the cruelest thing that they have given me.❞ She whispers in turn, her gaze faltering now as she turns her eyes to the floor now, unable to look at him in fear of giving into her own selfish wants. Oh how her feelings had developed for the second son. It was not because he had saved her life or was kind to her. But he had actually cared about her. Her safety, her desires, her fears, and despite what retaliation he might receive from his own father or townsfolk, Vigor yet remained steadfast beside her.

❝I would spend my days in your company if fate would allow it so...❞

It is reassuring to hear his family might be fine, so long as Irnvar listens to him in the days to come. However, even if they get out of this unscatched, Vigor does not forget his promise to Bet, spoken atop Nox as she lay resting in that temple cot. It is not enough for his own family to be safe from Randolph, he has to free Nox, too.

    ❝What do you have left of yourself to give?❞ Vigor implores. ❝Stop worrying about everyone but yourself. I promised Bet I would find a way out of this not for my family's sake but for yours. For you, Nox. I will not have you sent away only to suffer this again and again.❞

    He hopes his wandering hands do not distress her, stroking her shift gently as if just the breeze through the windows. One hand along her waist and hip, the other trailing a line down her back, delicately brushing the fabric but not the skin beneath it.

    Perhaps they cannot share their days together, but what of their nights? Can they steal time away from fate like thieves under the cover of darkness? Fate is their guide, not their master. His future a forked path, yes, but there is nothing forcing his hand here and now. The present may carve a new a new path. ❝Fate can only deny us what we do not take from it.❞

    If fate cannot command him, what hope does mere duty have?

    His hands ache to hold her close even as they linger against her dress, desperate to carve the lines of the curves beneath it. Vigor felt like a sculptor before a block of perfect marble, curiously imagining what lay within.

    As his lips brush over her starlit-crowned hair, he pauses. It does not matter if he will disregard fate and duty, she had come to his chamber not seeking pleasure but a refugee. If he lets himself get caught up in his own desires, he would be pushing things when she is vulnerable, and in turn, would deny her the santuary she seeks of him.

❝I know you do not command me. I am just too tired to make the trek back. I feel as though I could collapse at any moment.❞ Her voice is soft as she turns her gaze up to him, the contrasting colors possibly eerie in the darkness. Had it not been for the light that was given off by the fire, she might've looked like the demon the town thought her to be. As he speaks of Cain, though, her lip curls in a moment of distaste as her nose scrunches.

❝Your brother is not my favorite company. I would not trust him to watch over me with such tenderness and care as you have shown me in my time here.❞ She sighs out, her hands lacing together at her waist as she turns now to look at the fire. ❝He cares very little for me, that much is obvious. I am just exotic to him. A puzzle to solve. Every day he tries to undress my face with his eyes. I understand the curiosity, but he is also nowhere near infatuated with me.❞ She knows of his play things. He is not subtle enough for Bet's watchful eyes. It isn't as though their marriage would be anything but political. Nox is no fool.

As Vigor steps forward, her gaze finds him once more, lingering as he can see him close enough to touch. She can feel the warmth he exudes; his presence brings her a comfort that she has not felt in a very long time. If only he knew that. If only she could say that. But he is a lord, and she a mere oracle should her father's titles be lost if his treachery brought to life. A lowly lady of the courts.

❝I would not marry him, lord...❞ She whispers. ❝I hold no love nor reverie for him, as I'm sure he has none for me...❞ Nox searches his gaze for any kind of reaction. ❝I would marry another if I had my freedom, but it is he who I wish to protect most of all.❞ Her hand reaches out and gives his hand a soft squeeze before pulling away before she can say anything else. ❝I will stay, as I am sure you will worry about if I will follow my dreams and find me cold in the morning. I will stay as you have asked of me so that you won't be restless and can find me still breathing when the sun rises.❞

Perhaps Cain has a tender, caring side. Perhaps even a romantic one, buried behind the hedonism and selfishness. He may even know love, just never for Nox and Nox alone. And that was fair and worked for him, and maybe it could work for them both. It was a perfectly noble preference, just one that evaded Vigor. But in the end, he would not argue, even if her disgust wasn't so evident. Now was not the time to contemplate his brother's hypothetical virtues. Nox can only be happy with him if she wants to be.

    Vigor's heart feels like a knot in his chest that tightens at her brief touch. That brief squeeze on his hand both blessing and vice. His wrist pulls to her when her hand moves away before falling limp at his side.

    ❝Why must you worry about protecting others still? Despite everything you've endured? Despite what they ask of you?❞ Vigor forces his voice steady against a rising tide of emotions, not only to maintain whatever privacy they may yet have, but knowing how much raising his voice hurt her. ❝Though, you'll have to forgive me for worrying about you still.❞

    They ask to much of her. Too much of them both.

    ❝Forgive me for wanting to see the sunrise here,❞ Vigor speaks like a penitent man confessing, his hand gracing a mere inch away from her cheek, touching only a stray lock that he tucks behind her ear. He is so close now, Vigor imagines Nox might feel his heart quicken. He leans in to whisper.

Vigor would share her apt sentiment if he had been capable of speech. The seizing of his muscles at climax steals his voice, and hides all sense behind the haze of the afterglow. Shattered pants brushing along Nox's elegant neck his only reply.

    The strength of his arms soon begin to fail him. Before he can fall atop her, Vigor uses the last of his stamina to throw a shaking arm under the small of Nox's back. He swings her around, swapping places with Nox so she lays above him, wrappings arms around her with a pleased groan, holding her tight against his chest.

    Staring up at the ceiling, the night repeats in his mind. The memory settles organically amongst a bed of desirous daydreams, having hungered for this for so shamefully long. However, the fact this felt overdue does not detract from how utterly grateful and awestricken he feels. Just the sound of those precious words, she loves him, gods—she loves him—was more than the sum of years of yearning. What Vigor struggles with is not finally sharing this moment, but every time he never dared invite her to his bed sooner. But then again, would it have felt the same? Nox was truly precious, to this dire world, and to him. She deserves more than what he was too used to giving—sordid affairs hidden around corners and under the cover of secrecy. She deserves better than such fragile affections. Better than a man like him.

    The only thing that could bring him down from this high was fear. Just as he was used to casual sex, Vigor fears being just that and nothing more. If he wasn't still catching his breath, he'd beg. Please do not regret me. Nox can use him all she wants, but by the gods, save him from abandonment, save him from her regret. Use me until I am worthy of being used.

    Her words echo endlessly until his heartbeat settles.

    He looks into her eyes, his own glinting as he stares into hers. How he could sink into those endless night skies, a sanctuary unto themselves. He sees her, whole and without barriers between them, and finds he has never seen her more beautiful than she is right now. For the briefest moment, the scars that lined both their bodies fell suddenly irrelevant. The flush to her skin more beautiful than any flower in her garden, and the way her starlight hair drapes over her skin more graceful than any waterfall.

    In her, he finds not only beauty and safety, but clarity. Any doubts about his loyalty to her and the Bailey had vanished. There remained no love in his heart for anything else but her, duty be damned.

    It is shameful that he ever considered hurting her at all.

The moment came to an end as the lord stood from his spot knelt before her, her hands slipping from his. It is an empty feeling that fills the void where comfort was just moments ago. That is her sign that it is time to go. Fingers grasp the bunch of her chemise and squeeze tight to try and reassure herself that it would be okay. But, in truth, she did not know. It felt like Vigor could hold all the answers and solutions, it was just a matter of time if that would be seen or not.

Standing herself this time, Nox folds the blanket up neatly before rolling it into a log to better fit in the basket he had retrieved it from. She excuses herself quietly as she walks around him and indeed returns it to the wicker basket with the others. Dusting her hands off her hips, the oracle pads softly across the room and back to the chair, ready to bid him goodnight, only to hear his exclamation.

Nox blinks a bit, caught off guard by the sudden direction to take his bed. Her head turned in the direction of his chambers that held his bed and then back to him with her brow furrowed now; concern more than anger or frustration.

❝You're not worried...?❞ Her voice is even quieter now as if someone might hear their conversation through the doors. But then she realizes why. She had already agreed not to do anything rash, but it seems he still might worry that she would. Honesty has brought them to this point, and h as seemed to almost completely backfire into her. Maybe he did not trust her, now, knowing the status of her mind to not find a chair before he can burn them all. Nox cannot fault him, though. Vigor has already made it clear that what she does would doom them...even if she has not seen such a doom other than the fight in which she clearly loses where his path will diverge and cannot see past. Maybe he is right.

Maybe she would doom him if that is the future in which she takes herself out of the picture.

Nox heaves in a breath before letting it out in a heavy sigh, much too tired to try and explain this away, but also too leaden to move back through the halls in which she had traversed so carefully the first time. Smoothing her hand over her face, Nox looks to the chair and then back to him and nods softly. ❝As you say, my lord...❞

He doesn't want to argue, grateful that Nox would even consider his rash idea, but Vigor cannot help but feel he is doing her a disservice. He might foolishly forgo all decency, abandoning all concerns save her safety, but he cannot force her to oblige his fears. ❝I would not command you. You understand that, right? You are free to go, if you wish.❞

    The neatly folded up blanket catches his eye, wondering why in her distressed and tired state, Nox felt the need to show his humble possessions such care. ❝If you find my company unsuitable, my brother can be your ward tonight,❞ he says flatly. As much as it pained Vigor to say it, Cain would happily welcome Nox at this hour. She would be safe, and if servants spread tales of this night, their little conversation would be overshadowed by Nox joining her fiancé in the late hours; whilst not ideal for people of their station, they are young and engaged, and therefore prone to the passions of their youth. Besides, Cain has survived far worse rumours than taking his own bride-to-be earlier than intended. Improper, but ultimately harmless.

    Vigor's brow furrows, the gentle firelight flickering in his eyes and bouncing off his clenched jaw. ❝My brother is many things—a conversation for another time—but you would be safe,❞ he says, looking to Nox with a pleading in his eyes. With a jolt, Vigor steps forward, stopping himself just before his hands can brush over Nox's wrist.

She offers him a bitter tasting gift. Her reassurances that he has not failed her are done in vain. There is no convincing Vigor that this is right, and that he isn't at fault for not ensuring her happiness, even if it meant defying his duty. She was always more important than that, and if he'd been decent enough to realise that sooner, perhaps she wouldn't be tangled beyond escape.

    But hope is not a hempen rope, it is a path; only Nox's is covered by vipers and vines he cannot free her from. He does not know how.

    Her foresight should ward him away from trying to save her, but it only frustrates him more. She said it herself, she does not know her own future, even if his heart sinks when she says it isn't her at his side, basking in the dawn. The shame is heavy in his chest, but Vigor does not know if it is shame at his failure, or at his desire, that drowns him so.

    ❝But it won't save me. You'd be condemning us both,❞ he laments. Vigor does not speak of his own father's punishment, should Nox be found dead in the morning, but rather, how his failure to stop it would haunt him till his last day. He doesn't understand how Nox can see a happy future for him if she passes. Perhaps her vision cannot take that into account.

    How Irnvar, and Randolph, would react is far from his mind in that moment. It would only be a drop in the ocean of pain if he lets her do this.

    ❝I tried to make him listen, but he's determined to see this through,❞ pain racks through Vigor, his voice hoarse as he whispers. ❝I don't know— I don't know how to free you from this but you have to let me try,❞ he whines.

Condemn them both? She did not think that it would be so. If she was no longer on the board, Randolph would skip town before all his enemies could catch him and skin him alive for all his threats. Nox was the only reason most of her father's 'army' was around. Arlix and Vigdis had made sure that all of the soldiers could be rallied to her side should she ever find the way to take control from her father.

But as long as that wicked man and his personal goons could keep her confined, she would always be at a disadvantage. Her head falls heavier into his hands as he continues to plead for her to listen, to allow him to try. How much longer could she go through this charade? How much further will Vigor ask her to go?

"You did not fail to make me happy, Vigor...my life has been a miserable existence far before our paths were ever to cross." Her hands reach up and cup his own, reliving the twisting and ever changing visions as if there was any hope that she could grasp on how she could figure out best how to give him the best outcome and save him from herself.

But his whines, his final plea to let him try, caused her shoulders to rise as she takes in a deep breath, stilling her darker thoughts and ideations. She would not deny him. How could she? The way Vigor spoke to her gave her pause. He spoke in such a way that made her feel like she was the last thing that would keep this world aloft. As though her departure from this world would mean catastrophe. But she was just a girl. The world would keep turning without her.

"Very well..." Her voice is but a whisper as she lifts her dark orbs to search his own gaze, her hands grasping his tightly in reassurance that she would not do anything rash. Not yet. Leaning her head against his now, not in an attempt to share her memories, but for but a moment more of this secretive comfort. Her thumbs smooth across his knuckles as she closes her eyes as the fatigue finally washes over her.

"I should...uhm...probably return to my chambers..." Heaviness settles in her bones as her once heightened emotions are released and tension leaves he muscles. She could fall asleep in that chair if she truly wanted to, but Nox knows it would not be appropriate to spend the night in the chambers of a man she is not engaged to and that it may cause tongues to wag.

The last thing the pair needed was rumors to spread further on the wind that there was any scandal behind closed doors.

He could drown in these small touches. Rubbing her thumb over his knuckles is enough to still his body and breath a moment, even as his mind drifts into peaceful pastures as easily as the breeze rolls over tall grass. But a tranquil mind is not enough to ease his racing heart when she touches his brow to his. Vigor remains still, least errant passions, like his earlier temper, lead him astray.

    He pulls away, slipping from her grasp and standing upright, running his hands over his knuckles. Vigor's eyes dart to every corner but hers, her presence burning into him as he wrestles with his thoughts. His hands cross over his chest, his hands brushing over his shirt sleeves before gripping them.

    There is no benefit to fuelling further rumours. The sooner she returns to her chamber, the sooner they can both free themselves from at least one burden in this whole mess.

    But that still guarantees them nothing. Nox is still in his room beyond decent hours. It's even possible that having her sneak back to her room would only make things worse. Was she seen coming in? Can they be sure she won't be seen leaving?

    Much like lighting a fire, hiding the situation might only make it appear sordid. Vigor was plenty capable of hiding his affairs if he wanted to, and lighting a fire and letting them stay in his bed would be the last things he'd do if he had something to hide. Besides, what were they even bothering to protect? Cain is intrigued, but open to other prospects, whilst Nox may not even survive to suffer through the marriage at this rate. Now, as the visions swirl in his head, Vigor knows the whole thing is undeniably a mistake. All that mattered now is her safety, and finally proving Randolph's scheme to his father. Besides, as much as he wants to trust her words, he would not place her life atop the unsteady grounds of ❛very well.❜

There is nothing she would not do for this man. He has become every first thought she has in the morning, to the very last before she closes her eyes and rests. She dreams about the life they could have, that they should have in spite of all the troubles they face in the world. He is everything and so much more. He is the support that holds the foundation of her life together after all these years. Now that she has found him, how could she ever let him go?

That thought alone was absolute torture. So long had she gone without ever allowing herself the idea that she could be loved like this? The last person she had ever truly allowed into her heart was taken from her so long ago. There was a deep, internalized fear that the same thing would happen if she ever opened her heart up to another again. But Gods be damned if she allowed those lingering fears to keep Vigor from her heart any longer. Their blossoming romance that she had tried to deny for so long was now in full bloom, and there was no denying it ever again.

Every jolt of her hips and every moan on her lips guides him deeper into bliss. Vigor is too focused on maintaining his rhythm, and carefully placed pressure on her sensitive bud, that he does not realise he is grinding against the bedsheets. He hums into her skin, desperately fighting off moans that would distract him from his task. Instead, he utilises them, letting his own pleasure reverberate against her skin, working in tandem with his lips, his tongue.

    He'd wanted this for a shamefully long time. Not that lust was ever at the front of his mind, but it had gnawed at the edges of his thoughts whenever they allowed themselves a little closeness for the last several years. It is a miracle he isn't spent at the sound of her pleasure, or how her hands grip his locks. Her ecstasy should ease the pressure he's placed upon this sacred moment, but it only drives him wild with hunger to hear more.

    Vigor almost doesn't listen when she tells him to stop. Not for lack of care, but becoming lost to the world, drowning in his own focus. Now, he locks that focus on her voice, nodding obediently at her request.

    He leaps onto his feet, climbing up atop Nox with feverish swiftness. A passing thought tells him to swing her atop him, to savour this moment in this preferred way. But at the sight of her beneath him now, flushed with pleasure, brilliant like an opal in the moonlight, he cannot wait a moment longer. Vigor guides her by the hip, and gently trusts into her with a shuddering breath.

    All too aware this will not last, but he takes him time anyway. At least, at first, before he is fervent, as if maddened with desire.

    Vigor cups her cheek with one hand, his other caressing the soft lines that follow down her breasts to her waist. He struggles to speak between strokes, but he finds the strength to fight the agonising moans long enough to whisper between them. ❝I love you. I love you—❞ he whispers with a smile.

There is no taking back now what she has shared with him. But even still, the weight upon her shoulders is not lessened. Bet has been subjected to the last five families; where they had taken her with them among the journeys, but for eight other torturous marks, Nox had carried the weight alone. He has seen the loss of her family. The only person who had cared for her deeply left to die alone. Relived her pain from her perspective.

And if she had only been able to see her fate, maybe she could have saved everyone from this reality that they live in now. The threads of fate would've been kinder if whatever gods are out there could give her some insight on how to stop a rampaging monster.

But it was silence.

When his arms tightened around her, dread filled her senses. Would he rip away from her and shun her like those of the city? Would he shove her away like she is a poisoned drink made mortal that he realized he has consumed? Her chest tightens with anxiety has the grip becomes painful; the snake pouncing upon the rabbit, constricting it before consumption.

Nox dares not to make a sound. Whimpers of pain, of fear, are shoved down into the depths of her throat until they are but a ragged exhale. Despair fills her to the brim; she fears that he will see her for the soothsayer, the bringer of doom, that she is desperate to hold onto him for but a little while longer.

But reject her, Vigor does not. The feeling of his hand tracing the jagged scar from whence her father drove his dagger into her chest pulls her from the depths of insanity she feels she is drifting through. She can see the terror on her mother's features as she begged Randolph to stop his torturous actions against their girl. How he had paid a hefty price to heal her so she would indeed not die. But oh how she wished she had that day.

Vigor's hands trailed and studied along her form and left chills in their wake. How she had only wished he was the one she was betrothed to. Maybe their fates would have been different. Maybe if the people of his town had seen that they were happy, truly happy in one another's company, things could have been different.

The dream of happiness ends as soon as he is thrust back into this moment. She feels hollow. Even as he does his best to smooth over the reddening flesh of her arms, Nox knows that she cannot subject him to the fates put before her. There is already something in her mind that has put certain preparations in action. This was not a subject she thought of on a whim. Extensive conversations had been shared in the sanctity of the night between herself and Bet when they found themselves sharing quarters on their journeys. Promises had been made and decisions had been final. Despite how much Bet had tried to convince her otherwise, it seemed more and more inevitable that this game of power grab would never end.

And without his secret weapon, Randolph would lose everything.

"I-It's okay..." Nox can try to reassure him, but she can see the obvious regret in his features. "I subjected your mind to a lot...your reactions need not to be apologized for..." She utters, exhaustion rampaging her at the sheer volume of memories she had shared with him. Whatever hope she has lingers in her bones, though, in hopes that she might finally be able to convince him to let her go by her own means. Even if he insists that he's not worth it.

"By the kindness and compassion you have shown me since I darkened your doorstep is more than enough reason...I wish not to bleed over you anymore..." Obsidian eyes once more shed tears as she gazes down to him. Her lips have curved into a tired smile and her breaths have steadied from the panic that threatened to hold precious air just moments before.

"You have not failed me, Vigor. You have shown me mercy. You have given me kindness and friendship when all the rest of the world turned their back. And you have finally given me the courage to face my doom if need be. So let me be the one to save you, this time."

When gentler hands return to cradle her cheeks, Nox lets her hands fall to his shoulders, weary arms bracing themselves against him. A hopeful smile, for him, finds her lips at his question.

She offers him a bitter tasting gift. Her reassurances that he has not failed her are done in vain. There is no convincing Vigor that this is right, and that he isn't at fault for not ensuring her happiness, even if it meant defying his duty. She was always more important than that, and if he'd been decent enough to realise that sooner, perhaps she wouldn't be tangled beyond escape.

    But hope is not a hempen rope, it is a path; only Nox's is covered by vipers and vines he cannot free her from. He does not know how.

    Her foresight should ward him away from trying to save her, but it only frustrates him more. She said it herself, she does not know her own future, even if his heart sinks when she says it isn't her at his side, basking in the dawn. The shame is heavy in his chest, but Vigor does not know if it is shame at his failure, or at his desire, that drowns him so.

    ❝But it won't save me. You'd be condemning us both,❞ he laments. Vigor does not speak of his own father's punishment, should Nox be found dead in the morning, but rather, how his failure to stop it would haunt him till his last day. He doesn't understand how Nox can see a happy future for him if she passes. Perhaps her vision cannot take that into account.

    How Irnvar, and Randolph, would react is far from his mind in that moment. It would only be a drop in the ocean of pain if he lets her do this.

    ❝I tried to make him listen, but he's determined to see this through,❞ pain racks through Vigor, his voice hoarse as he whispers. ❝I don't know— I don't know how to free you from this but you have to let me try,❞ he whines.

if you are sending to a multi-muse, remember to specify the muse that the questions are being sent for . feel free to edit these as you see fit .

🌟 What’s something small they did as a child that hinted at who they’d become?

❤️ Who is the one person they’d drop everything for, no questions asked?

💔 What’s the one wound (physical / emotional) they’ll never fully recover from?

🗡️ What’s their “I’ve killed for less” trigger?

☀️ What’s their happiest childhood memory?

🌧️ What kind of weather matches their soul?

🍽️ What meal do they cook when they need to feel like themselves again?

🎶 What song instantly makes them emotional & why?

🌙 Do they sleep peacefully / fight nightmares every night?

🔒 What’s a secret they’ll take to their grave?

🪞 What do they secretly hate about their own appearance?

💪 What random skill are they weirdly proud of?

👶 Baby picture of them - what’s the most embarrassing thing about it?

🏠 Describe their home when no one’s watching—messy, spotless, chaotic cozy?

😭 What always makes them cry, even if they hate admitting it?

😂 What’s the dumbest thing they’ve ever laughed at for way too long?

🧸 Do they still have a childhood comfort object? Where is it now?

✏️ What nickname do they secretly love being called?

⚔️ How do they act when they’re furious but have to stay polite?

🩸 What’s the worst injury they’ve ever had & the story behind it?

🕊️ What would instantly calm them down in a panic attack?

🔥 What’s something they’d burn the world down to protect?

🌹 What scent reminds them of the person they loved/love most?

🪥 What’s their most oddly specific daily routine?

💔 What’s the one apology they’re still waiting for that’ll never come?

🃏 Are they the type to forgive / hold a grudge until the end of the universe?

🌌 What’s their biggest “what if” that keeps them up at night?

🦋 What was their “I’m not a kid anymore” moment?

🎭 Do they wear a mask in public? What’s the real them like underneath?

🧳 If they had to leave home forever with only one bag, what do they pack?

🌑 What’s the darkest thought they’ve ever had about themselves?

☕ What’s their comfort drink?

🖤 What’s a “villain” trait they actually possess?

🤝 Who is the one person they never want to disappoint?

🎁 What gift would utterly destroy them (in a good / bad way)?

🩹 How do they react when someone they love is hurt?

🌅 Are they a sunrise / sunset person - what do they think about while looking at their favorite?

🧣 What texture/clothing item makes them feel safe?

🦉 What piece of advice do they give everyone but never follow themselves?

🔪 What’s the most violent thing they’ve ever done for love / survival?

🦋 What seemingly insignificant memory do they cherish the most?

🌹 What is their love language & how badly do they need it right now?

🪨 What’s the hardest choice they’ve ever made?

🧋 What food/drink do they hate that everyone else loves?

🕰️ If they could relive one day of their life, which would it be?

👑 In their own story, are they the hero / villain / someone else entirely?

🌡️ What temperature do they keep their home at & why?

🧸 What would their younger self think of them now?

💌 What’s the letter / text they’ll never send?

"I'm ah- aware of our closeness together. It would be foolish of me not to be," Ashe admitted with a awkward chuckle. His thumb worried at the palm of his hand, where various small scars were cut across the flesh beneath his gloves. He took a small breath.

"And... I figure it would not be fair for us to engage any sort of relationship without me bein' fully honest with you, especially with the... history you've shared with me." Ashe continued, slightly rambling as if to avoid getting to the point of the topic. He swallowed down his anxiety before speaking again.

"I... practice the art of blood magic. I'm a blood mage," Ashe admitted for the first time, watching Vigor carefully for a response. "Of course, I generally only use my own blood, and I do not use it to manipulate others like--" Ashe bit back bringing up Vigor's brother at the moment, before continuing, "--other blood mages, but I figured it would be... I wanted to be completely honest with you."

Vigor studies his smile before sitting down beside Ashe. He owes it to him to patiently wait out the heavy silence. At mention of their closeness, his breath stills in his chest. Vigor buries his hands between his knees, nervously hiding how he, too, veils his anxiety. Ashe was right, though, about honesty, Vigor just wasn't used to being on the other side of such conversations. If there is any solace he can convince himself of, it is that he doubts it'll be as dire as his own confessions. However, the openness and optimism he'd greeted Ashe with just moments earlier is soon ripped away.

    His jaw tightens as his stomach drops. The nervous wandering of one hand other the other suddenly falls still, gripping his hands tight as if it'll ground him. His eyes avoid Ashe, and the silence only grows heavier. Ashe could try to avoid it, but his brother's name haunted them both. If Cain could see him now, he'd be rolling on the floor with laughter, proud and mocking.

    ❝I might be the only mage in Thedas who wouldn't notice,❞ he tries to jest, but there is a clear bite in the way he speaks. Vigor lets the words spill out quickly before biting his tongue again, least he say too much. ❝Not that I don't believe you—about using your own blood.❞

    This shouldn't be so difficult, and yet, Vigor can barely glance Ashe's way. He wants to offer a soothing, diplomatic smile, but he can't do it.

    What he knows to be true, that Ashe is no threat to anyone, except those who deserve it, and what he feels, are at complete odds. Even without the Circle to drill the fears of blood magic into him, Vigor was no stranger to the Chantry's warnings, most of which could not conceive of the horrors he'd seen committed by Cain.

    Vigor is too shunned to consider if his opinion on Ashe changes at all. Whether it did or not was irrelevant. Ashe was owed the same chance he had offered him. Did how he feel even matter? He has no right to judge.

    He looks at Ashe pleadingly before turning his head again, as if shaking off some thought. ❝You've done kinder things with blood magic than I ever did without it,❞ he snaps bitterly. Vigor begins to wipe his eyes frantically before burying his face in his palms a moment, allowing the burning in his temple to pass over him. He just needs some time to think and accept this.