Spirits of the Earth

OOC: Tags to @Draco !

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The cook carried over a half dozen dead, black-and-white feathered chickens by their neck and plopped them down on the worn wooden worksurface in front of her. "There, you can pluck and clean those."

The cook was an old, rotund woman who'd worked at Wulfbauer Keep for as long as Constance Carwick, or Olive, could remember. She certainly was there when Olive had been a girl. Once upon a time, when Olive was a duke's daughter and only entered the kitchen to steal a cake or cookie. It felt like a lifetime ago. But Olive had to wonder if that was why the old cook kept giving her these jobs; in hopes of scaring her out of the kitchen. But Constance Carwick wasn't a duke's daughter anymore, however much the new duke might like to wave her around like a banner: 'The Last Carwick.' No, Olive had changed in the last five years. She couldn't bare the idleness of her house arrest. In her years away from Wulfbauer, idleness had only ever been a punishment. In the mage camps, she'd had work duties like all the others, save only for when running her mouth had landed her locked away in a solitary cell for a few days in hopes of shutting her up. And when she wasn't working under the yoke of the guards, she'd still been active. She'd been always active. Working with the underground in the camps, taking advantage of her social standing to take risks others couldn't afford, always doing something, something useful. And the years after the camp? She didn't dare breathe a word of those years to anyone other than to Erwin Therrien, and to him only as much as truthfulness dictated. Needless to say, they had been just as active. Not with 'working' in the same sense, but fighting. Fighting against the army and the government, that sought to wipe them out, and fighting to survive. It was a constant struggle, and one she believed in. Or... Yes, she told herself, she did. What happened in Hellvion wasn't what she had been fighting for. She believed in everything, she told herself, that she'd fought for.

So the isolation and idleness of the first weeks of her house arrest, here in the house that had once been her home, had been torturous for her. In addition to the madness of being always idle, Olive had also been so alone looked away in the East Wing. She'd almost never been alone between entering the mage camps, and being brought in shackles to Wulfbauer. So once Erwin Therrien had loosened the conditions of her 'stay' in Wulfbauer, and once her shoulder had healed from the bullet and buckshot the corrupt guard had slugged into it, she sought out anything to do to keep busy. Not just busy - she could, like any young noble lady, cross stitch or play instruments or read or whatever - not just busy, but useful. She'd proved useful, perhaps, as the rather unofficial advisor to the Duke, but he called on her sporadically. Olive needed to fill the hours in her day. Her first thought was that perhaps she could work with Bairn in the stables. The work suited her more, and Bairn had been something of a second father to her as a child. But the stables, of course, were outside of the house, and Olive was still a 'flight risk.' She wondered, too, if there wasn't some effort to keep her from being too close now to the staff most sympathetic to her. So instead she'd come to the kitchens to beg work, any work! The cook was shocked at the idea - Lady Constance! In the kitchen!? - and many of the younger kitchen maids looked shocked as well. But, lucky for Olive, one spoke out in her favor, reminding the cook that they were short staffed anyway after Anna married and left service. Olive hadn't learned the real reason the maid, whose name was Astrid, had spoken up for her until later.

But that had been a week prior. Here she was, working just alongside the cooks and kitchen maids, dressed much the same as they were, and the cook was still trying to scare Olive out of the kitchen. Scrubbing gross pots, cleaning the ovens, and now plucking the chickens. So far, however, she hadn't succeeded in fazing the girl. Olive simply laid out the birds and got to work. She'd done the same with wild game birds more than once during her years in the wild.

The other thing that was useful, or interesting, at least, about working in the kitchen was that it was one of the best places to be if you wanted to know what was going on in the Keep. Olive had to say, she was quite impressed by how much of the Keep's going-ons the staff knew! And it made her blush a little to think of what all they'd known when she'd lived here before! She'd learned a number of enlightening things so far (and many unenlightening things), but always kept her ears open for some other news: What had become of the stablehand's boy? Bairn's son, Vale. All she could get out of Grace was that he'd left for the army and, yes, he was still alive, and any further discussion of the topic was quickly steered away. Grace, of course, had never approved of her mistress's daughter running around with the stablehand's boy! The stablehand! Servants, it turned out, were sometimes twice as elitist as the nobles they worked for. On that day, Olive hadn't been thinking of him, not at the front of her mind, anyway. Her thoughts were circling around Lord Kenins and what would come of his open challenges to the duke, and what would become of Wulfbauer, until she heard something.

A voice in the hall that made her heart stop. All other thoughts evaporated from her mind in an instant, replaced by a loud thumping of her heart in her head. Suddenly, Olive felt terrified without knowing at all why. Her brain said, 'Go, see who it is!' But her feet were planted firmly in place. What if it wasn't? What if she was wrong? What if -

But the questions stopped when a tall young man, lugging along a sack of flour that'd just been delivered, walked awkwardly into the kitchen. Olive dropped the half-plucked chicken, causing a flurry of feathers.

Things have been different around the manor.

No one would tell him why though. Was there a quest? Should he have worn his nice trousers today? Vale pushed his hair from his face made his way to the kitchen with the flour over his shoulder. "Valerian!" He turned to one of the kitchen help and blinked down at her, offering a nice smile. She cast a look to his leg and then held out her arms, "I can take that. You should go rest!" Instantly his smile dissolved and it turned into a thin lipped line.

"No, it's okay, I got it. This is almost as big as you are." And he continued on, sure he walked a little funny with such a weight on one side but nothing he couldn't manage. Probably shouldn't be doing it but it helped take his mind off of things. Still the girl bothered him until finally they were at the door and he sighed, "Fine, you take one side." He rolled his eyes heavily, quite put out now. If there was one thing he loathed above all else it was being treated like an invalid. He was still taller and stronger than the tiny woman who was insisting on helping him.

"You know I can do this by myself, right?" He finally asked, giving her a look. The door opened behind him and he saw the look of concern on her face and mouthing the word 'i'm sorry' to someone and curiously, he turned around to look. The puff of feathers caught his attention, but the person behind those feathers made his heart drop and all he heard was noise.

He also almost dropped his end of the flour sack. Instead he placed it down on the ground and instead ignored everything and went and stood in front of her. Every thump of his heart felt like it was going burst from his chest. His eyes were burning. Vale walked numbly towards the girl and he held out a hand for a moment before he let it fall to his side, his fingers were trembling. "I thought you were dead." He looked towards the other people in the kitchen and none of them were looking at him all carefully avoiding his gaze, his brown eyes turned back to Olive and - ignoring everyone else and potential rumors - pulled her into a hug, his hand cradling her head while he pulled her against his chest. "I can't believe you're here, how long have you been here for?"

The younger maids looked on in shock. What was the crippled stablehand - who was drunk as often as not, in their eyes - doing with the daughter of their old duke? They still weren't sure what to make of Constance: a noble lady who was a mage who was rumored to be a criminal who had escaped from the camps and now lived here as the 'guest' of Duke Therrien. But she was still a lady! The cook, though, and a few of the older maids looked on with a knowing frown. They'd had to chase the pair out of the kitchen often enough when they were children that this was no shock to them. But none of them looked all too happy about it, all the same.

It was one thing for a grown lady to be close friends with her maid, it was another thing for an adult noble woman to be close friends with the male stablehand. The cook was already imagining the talking to she was going to get from Grace for letting this particular reunion happen.

Olive, however, was oblivious to all of them. She had watched, frozen to the spot, as Vale approached her, uncertain why she felt so apprehensive, but unable to feel any other way. And she couldn't help but notice how he'd changed, how he'd grown, well, into a man and not a scraggly boy of eighteen. She hadn't noticed, yet, the biggest way he'd changed. She was too transfixed. Too acutely aware of how much she had changed... The last time she'd seen Vale, that had been another life. Another lifetime. What would he make of her now?

All those thoughts, and all those worries, dissipated when he embraced her. For a moment, she was still in a bit of shock, and she pulled away just enough to look at him again, then hugged him properly, throwing her arms around him and pulling herself tight. It was really him. Vale. Her first friend. Her best friend. The biggest part of her life Before that remained, now that her parents were gone. "I can't believe you're here," she countered. It came out as a half-strangled laugh from against his shoulder.

A loud clearing of the cook's throat cut into the scene. "Well, it's nice to see you two back together again. Someone remind me to lock up the cooking sherry," she said loudly. This was distraction enough. "But here in the kitchen, we've still got work to do." This comment was directed, of course, at Valerian. However much she might volunteer herself, the cook could hardly tell Constance to 'get back to work!'

Astrid stepped in, taking the chickens. "Here, I'll finish this," she said quickly, giving Olive a nudge and a meaningful look that said, Go on. Before they whisk one of you away.

It felt like he was a kid again. For the few moments of the embrace he was still whole, Constance was still home and they could still run about and do silly kid things. Adults now. They were adults and Valerian had the good graces to snap back to reality when the cook cleared her throat. His cheeks flushed and he licked his lips, biting his lower lip to hide how simply happy he was. She was here. Alive.

Sure part of him was angry that no one had told him, but... That could be ignored for now. While he wasn't the most educated, he wasn't stupid and he knew on some level why they would be kept apart. "Sorry, Ma'am." He cleared his own through and gave Constance a smile, the same smile he'd give her when they got caught stealing goodies before running away. Which was almost exactly what happened.

Vale grabbed Constances hand, surprised at how much larger his were than her's now. All done growing up, he felt taller than her too. Was he always this much taller than her? Even though he'd come back broken and hurt, right now he felt oddly whole and he gave Constance a wide boyish grin and gave Astrid a kiss on the cheek in thanks before he started to lead her away. "I guess you're the 'guest' huh?" He walked slowly, the odd limp his stride slowing him down. He moved carefully to pull the collar of his shirt up to hide the scars on the back of his neck.

"Conny," he stopped finally in the hall and turned to look at her, still smiling, "how..." His expression turned sad, having some idea of what she'd gone through, but not all. They maids wouldn't tell him and for the most part, they let him believe she was gone. Forever.

"How have you been?"

The cook shook her head as the stablehand and the wayward noblelady exited the kitchen and clucked. "Nothing good can come of that," she muttered to no one in particular. "Fool boy." With this, she shot a disapproving look to Astrid, who focused determinedly on plucking the chickens. "Alright, alright, back to work, the lot of you."

Outside, in the hallway, Olive was still in a daze. Vale's boyish grins were so familiar, it was almost chilling. Like she'd traveled back in time. Like nothing had changed at all! She had to resist reaching out and touching him to verify that he was, indeed, real and not some phantasm from her past. In the end, she couldn't and reached a hand out to touch his arm.

Olive realized she was doing more staring than talking. "Don't call me Conny," she complained, half-heartedly, wrinkling her nose in distaste, "I still hate that."

But how to answer his question? How have you been? She found herself torn. Part of her wanted to tell him everything; something she hadn't really done with anyone. She'd told Erwin a little less than he asked, and never more. And he asked very little. Even with the other mages that had escaped from the camps, no one spoke more of the horrors they had experienced than they needed to. No one wanted to relive it. But Vale, she'd always felt she could tell him anything. Everything. And there was so much she'd been keeping in. But. Another part of her didn't want to tell him any of it. She saw the opportunity to be, at least in his eyes, still the same girl she'd been. The way he grinned at her, it was like none of it had ever happened. Like she'd never left Wulfbauer at all. And for some foolish reason, she wanted desperately to hold onto that. But it had happened. And she had changed. Whether she wanted him to see it or not. What would he think of her now, if he knew it all? Knew half of it?

"I..." she started, feeling suddenly awkward. Then, unconsciously brushing back the long, dirty blonde bangs from her forehead, sidestepped the question all together. "But when did you get here?" she asked, brightening a bit as she changed the focus to him. "You can't have been here the entire time! Have you? I've been here, I don't know, almost a month now, I think! Didn't you know...? I mean... I saw your father the first day I was here."

Bairn had, in fact, been the first to recognize the filthy, starved prisoner the Wulfbauer soldiers had hauled back from the disaster in the town of Valence. Did he really not know any of it? That, she was embarrassed to realize, made her want to hide it all away from him even more.

A common exchange for them was her loathing of his nickname for her and his heart gave a lurch when she told him she hated it. "Yeah, yeah," He said half heartedly, his usual response to her telling him she hated it. He'd never listen. Vale would never stop calling her the nickname she hated, simply because he knew he was the only one that called her that. It was his nickname for her. That made it special.

The hesitation spoke more words than her mouth ever could have and he ached to reach out and pull her close. There was some idea of what she's gone through, but not the whole picture. His question was deflected and her gave her a sad smile, which turned guilty when she asked him when he got here.

How could he tell her that when he had free time he just went and got drunk? There was a brief glance down, towards his leg. Or where his leg had been before the prosthetic had usurped it's leggy throne.  "I've been home for about two weeks," He said, which was true, "There was some stuff father couldn't do, so I went and did it for him," And then he got home and was probably half asleep drunk when his father told him Olive was back. Or if he'd been told. Vale couldn't remember.

"I don't know about you, but I think the other servants have also been trying to keep us apart." He leaned to look towards the kitchen, thinking of the cook "Did you see the look she gave me? I wasn't even stealing anything." Valerian smiled down at Olive and he leaned to give her another hug, which was probably inappropriately long but he didn't care. She was alive and he was alive and while things couldn't go back to normal... This was nice for now.

Finally he let go and shoved his hands into his pockets, looking down at the ground. "Thing's have changed, Conny, you know what happened to me, right?" He looked down at his leg and sighed, shifting his weight slightly. Sort of hoping someone else had told her about how he was a cripple now so he wouldn't have to do it.

Two weeks?! Olive's face fell a little. How could he have been here for the last two weeks and have not known she was here? From the way Grace and Erwin made it sound, every person in Wulfbauer had known about her 'return' from day one, though she'd never really believed that. And for a moment her mind entertained the idea that he had known she was here, but hadn't wanted to see her. Were the grins and smiles just an act? But no, she told herself, she'd be able to tell. Wouldn't she? But it had only been about one week ago that the Duke had taken Olive to the Spring Festival to parade her around to say, 'Look. The Carwicks are still alive - at least one of them - there's still continuity in Wulfbauer and I'm protecting her.' How could he have missed that?

She almost asked him, but then she stopped and swallowed. Remembering the last Spring Festival they'd been at together. It was, she realized, the last time she'd seen him. They'd stolen a growler of the prize-winning March beer and taken it to one of the little forestry huts. And feeling bold and a little drunk, she'd kissed him. A real kiss, full of the tension that had built up between them as teenagers, and of the reckless confidence she'd had in that time, before the war. It was the only time it'd ever happened, and she'd left for the university the next day. Then she'd never come back to Wulfbauer again; the Adhara had come to take her north only months later. Remembering that, Olive decided not to ask him about the Spring Festival. But her cheeks might have colored a little with the memory.

Instead, she followed his eyes back towards the kitchen, and gave a little shrug. "Well, what else is new?" she said with a self-conscious laugh. Why did she feel so self-conscious now? But while their friendship had been tolerated as children, as soon as they'd become teenagers, it had been generally disapproved of, especially by the staff. Not that they'd cared. The memory of being chased out of the kitchen, though, gave her a warm feeling of nostalgia, and when he pulled her into another hug, she wrapped her arms tight around him. It was so much easier to communicate what she was feeling like this, she thought. Words were trickier.

When he pulled away, Olive didn't exactly move out of his personal space. She knew she should. But it was as if my moving away from him it'd stop being real. And the look on his face now made her just want to pull him back to her. "No," she answered, frowning. "The only thing I could get out of Grace was that you were still alive," not something to be taken for granted these days, "and that you'd been in the army." She'd been so swept up in him just being there, that she genuinely hadn't noticed his limp.

Swallowing carefully he kept his hands on her shoulders and he looked at her. Feeling awful. The way her face fell. How she'd been here for a month. He moved a hand from her shoulder to rub at his chest and he looked away for a moment, the ache feeling like there was nothing in there. The guilt was overwhelming and he swallowed carefully looking a little sick. Vale didn't know because he hadn't been paying attention, so wrapped up in his self-pity that he didn't even listen if he'd been told. Had he been told? It was too late to worry now, here she was and she probably felt awful and ignored.

Vale looked around, not wanting to talk about it here. Everyone knew, but he didn't want his voice to carry down the hall way. So he took her hand gently and lead her away, careful steps to an empty room. There were a few crates full of various supplies and he moved to a window to open it before he closed the door. Then he started to remove his shirt, still facing the window and away from Olive.

"You only get out of the army for two reasons, you either die or you get hurt so bad you're not useful anymore," His back was presented, one big burn scar, red and puffy before he quickly fixed his shirt - it wasn't proper for her to see him topless anyway but words wouldn't do it justice. Vale let his head drop forward, and he took a heavy sigh. "I lost my leg. I can't do half the stuff I used to be able to do. I can barely ... jog." Vale sat down, still facing away from her, his fake leg tucked under his other  leg which was propped up and he rested his arm on the knee.

"I drink all the time. I'm miserable." He pushed his hand through his hair and  leaned forward to press his mouth into his bicep. "I didn't know you were here because I..." He didn't finish, instead he grew silent and let the unspoken words hang in the air. He didn't know she was here because he was so wrapped up in his own problems he wasn't thinking of anything else or even what they could tell him. "I'm sorry, Conny. I'm a terrible friend."

Olive was glad that Vale was facing away from her. Because the first reaction his admission illicited in her was a flare of anger, and perhaps disgust. Not disgust at the burn scars, not in the least, but at his attitude. Here he was, injured perhaps, but alive and safe with his life - she thought in that moment - still intact. And did he expect her to pity him? He clearly pitied himself. When there were so many who were not alive, or if they were, had not intact life to return to, no safe place to rest. And he had been a soldier, but she'd seen children butchered for simply being twins. Too close to being mages in these dangerous times.

The flare of righteous indignation was familiar. It had, perhaps, sustained her in the last three years. But how well had it served her? Where did it lead? To lashing out at an old friend who was admitting to her his weaknesses? Physical and otherwise. No. Olive let out a long exhale through her nose. Sometimes, she thought, she didn't recognize herself anymore. And though she couldn't entirely extinguish her annoyance with him, she reminded herself that she was intact, at least in the limb department. And he was not. Furthermore, it had been an act of bravery to be so honest with her, and she recognized that. Braver than she had been only moments earlier, when she'd wondered if she could hide the intervening years from him and try to still be the 'Conny' he remembered.

Olive bit her lip. Annoyed with him, annoyed with herself for being annoyed with him, and suddenly sad. She walked over to him and sat next to him on the crate, wrapping an arm around his waist.

"Vale... just because you're 'useless' to the army, it doesn't mean you're useless." She withdrew her arm from around him, and brushed back his hair, her eyes searching to make contact with his. "A lot of people are scarred by the war. Hell, you should see my back. But I guess that wouldn't be very appropriate," she smiled, trying to lighten the mood with a little 'joke,' as was her wont.

She continued to brush back his hair with her fingers. Even if she had been angry with him, even if part of her wanted to tell him, Well, if you're miserable, stop drinking and stop feeling sorry for yourself and do something about it,... more than that she wanted to make him feel better. Or maybe she just didn't want to see him feeling bad. She wanted to pretend, for just a little bit longer, that the war hadn't changed them.

"Being injured in a war, it's nothing... you shouldn't be ashamed, Vale," she tried to assure him, but the words sounded flat to her. Like a truism he'd probably heard a thousand times.

There had been a few moments where he wished he could take it all back. Tease her with her hated nickname and just pretend he wasn't missing parts of himself. Maybe being alone wasn't a good idea. Vale hadn't meant to pour everything out ten minutes after seeing one another.  It just felt so natural. To tell her his woes - which had been few and far between before this.  Their eyes met and he quickly looked away, his head ducking down.

Shouldn't be ashamed of... He gave a bitter laugh and then reached over to poke at her side and quickly (lightly) pinching what he could of her arm before he took a breath. "Easier said than done." He nodded to her back, "Do they insist you can't lift a bag of flo--- Well.." He paused, deciding that was a bad example, "They probably do. You're practically the same size as a bag of flour, PipSqueak." Still feeling bitter inside didn't help the fact that talking with her and being happy around her felt so natural.

The initial reaction to lash out at her was swallowed. The attempts at trying to make him feel better - something he'd heard thousands of times before - only grated on his nerves. For Conny, he would swallow his tongue and nod and smile. She didn't deserve his nasty words. "It's..." Vale sighed, "I had... Dreams, y'know?" He looked at her eyes briefly before looking away and turning a little red, "Things I can't do now, I can't even run. I can walk quickly! While looking really funny. How can I not be ashamed of that?"

It was insulting to have a fluff of a maid insist he shouldn't be carrying a sack of flour and he could remember every single instance it's happened since he came home.

Olive gave a hollow, mirthless laugh, almost one of surprise. "We all had dreams, Vale," she said, a slight tone of disbelief in her voice now; her tone less coddling. 'Do you think you're the only one whose life was torn apart by the war?' she wanted to ask, but didn't. Instead she said, "Count yourself lucky that you're still around to make new ones. Too many aren't." This time, her words didn't come out like some truism, some meaningless 'things will look up.' She meant what she said, and she wasn't necessarily saying it to make Vale feel better.

She paused, mouth open but frozen between words. She was either trying to find something to say, or trying not to say something, it wasn't clear. Olive wasn't so sure herself. After a moment, though, she let out a long sigh and put her arm back around him, squeezing him a little, and rested her head against his shoulder.

"But it isn't you who should be ashamed. It's Calent and the other dukes and lords who have the power to start and stop wars and choose to continue this one," she said darkly, a hard edge in her voice, but one that was no longer directed at Vale. "Even my father, however ill it is to say such things of the dead."

His arm went around her back and held her against his side, in a half hug. He wouldn't mention the things he'd dreamed of, not to her. They were going to rot inside his mind until they disappeared into nothing and he was okay with that. They were dreams. Not goals. Dreams were eventually going to be forgotten about but goals, goals were forever.

Or at least Valerian hoped they were.

Some goals were unreachable, but they were still nice to think about.  "You're right. I'm sorry. I guess... In some ways I am lucky." Lucky his home was still here. Lucky his own father was still alive. When she rested her head on his shoulder his hand moved up to cradle against her head, sighing softly.  "What can I say, I had a lot of time to... Feel bad when I lost my leg, ladies don't find scars attractive either." He pouted, then paused, "Good thing the rest of me is so good looking." He went quiet after a moment and rested his head against hers.

A nice quiet moment for them.

"You never told me how you were. I imagine it hasn't been good." He knew she'd been in the mage camps, despite his lack of love for mages, she was Olive before she was a mage. There was no room to hate Olive in him, not now. Maybe not ever. " You can pretend I'm just a big listening stuffed animal, I won't say anything while you talk?"

Olive gave a little snort of laughter, or sort-of laughter. "Well, at least you have the odds stacked in your favor now. Ladies who want husbands can't be too picky these days." A dark joke, perhaps, but it was true. He might not realize it, but for any of those maids in the kitchen, or any of the young ladies in the village, she was sure Vale was still a very eligible bachelor. (Also, she thought to herself, So he isn't married.) He might be scarred and missing bits, but he had a real competitive advantage over many young men: he was still above ground.

She sat up properly again, no longer leaning against him, and let out a thoughtful exhale through her nose. She could hardly sum up the last five years in a simple 'how are you.' But he'd been honest with her; it felt wrong to say nothing in return. Not when he asked again. So she decided to answer the question in a shorter timeframe.

"It's been difficult," she answered slowly, looking out the window, "being here. I never thought I'd come back here. It's not... Being here, it's not the life I'm used to anymore. And I feel like I'm surrounded by ghosts," she added, eyes looking upward as though she might find her parents looking down disapprovingly from the rafters. "I didn't know that my mother had died, or Avery or Caspian, until just before coming here." How could she tell him that she had known her father died - known it before it happened, sort of? "It's... I don't know. It's very painful, and very surreal. I thought this life was over."

She didn't say the other struggle she faced being here. The guilt, how maddening it was to be kept safe and separate just because she was Constance Carwick. How dizzying it was to still be treated like a lady. She wished many times that Erwin had kept her in a cell instead. Everyone she knew was still out there, struggling. And here she was, with people bowing and curtsying to her, calling her 'm'lady.' She still didn't know how to handle that.

Vale put a hand to his chest like she'd hurt him, "Ouch. I can only get a wife because I've got no competition? Low blow, Conny. We both know I would help make beautiful children." Not that it would really matter, they'd be sevants, just like he was and just like his Probably Wife would be too. It didn't matter if the servants were beautiful.

When she sat up he removed his arm and tucked it back into his own lap. That was the professional sit up and it felt wrong to be hanging his limbs off of her when she sat like that. When she spoke, Vale felt his heart breaking. He felt guilty because he was so beside himself that she was home. Finally. After years.

And she wasn't.

A small part of him took it as an insult. The small part of himself that took to drink and sleeping in the hay with the horses. The part that wasn't really Valerian. "I'm sorry, Olive. Does my being here help or... Make you feel worse?"  He went quiet after that and like he promised besides those words he'd stayed quiet and waited.

His words snapped her attention back to him and she looked at him with mild surprise.

"Oh, Vale, no, that's not what-" she nearly said that of course it was better that he was there! But she stopped. Was it? Olive wasn't actually sure. Was it easier to have less and less ties to her old life? Or was it better to still have her oldest friend? A living breathing very real connection to her past. She didn't know. She'd only known he was here for less than half an hour, after all. She sighed, looking sad. "I don't know," she finally answered, quietly. "But I'm glad you're here, either way."

Olive bit her lip, looking away. Unsure what to say. Perhaps guessing at some of his thoughts, after a long moment she explained, "This isn't home for me anymore. This isn't my home. It's Erwin Therrien's home. I'll stay here," whether she wanted to or not, "as long as he wants me here. Or," she gave a short laugh, "until he marries, I suppose. I can't imagine any wife, duchess, worth her salt would tolerate my presence for very long."

"I don't know," she concluded, turning the long braid of her hair over in her hands, "it's just... Complicated. Everyone I know, they're still out there. Hunted like animals. And here I am, safe and protected and pampered, whether I like it or not. It's just... hard."

And that revealed a little of how Olive viewed herself now. 'Everyone I know' meant the refugees, the mages, the fugitives and guerrilla warriors. It didn't mean the people here, in Wulfbauer Keep, nobles or servants.

"I'm glad I'm here, too." He said softly referring to his not being dead. Missing a leg and the burn's he'd gotten, he was surprised he lived. Valerian supposed he should be more happy about it, the worst could have happened. It was hard to be happy about a bad outcome instead of the worst one. He reached out and took Olive's hand while she played with her braid and simply held it. It felt different than it used to, he thought, her hands were more like his now.

His thumb pressed over her knuckles gently while she spoke and he ducked his head down, feeling awful about not being able to help. Feeling awful that on some level, he was glad the mages were out there being hunted like dogs. Of course he'd never say that, never in a million years would he express his dislike for mages - Olive had been the only mage he knew before the incident.

"Welcome to feeling like a servant," He joked, "Where your home doesn't really feel like your home," A pause, "Father would smack me for that.  I don't like being in the manor, my home is the stables, with the horses." That was also where his booze was, which he was keen on during these days. Maybe he'd go indulge in some when he saw Olive off.

Olive. Not Conny. Conny was for when they were children. Conny was... Gone. And only to be pulled out on special occasions.  His thumb worried over her knuckles and he gave her hand a comforting squeeze, "Well, maybe you can do some good here." He suggested softly, "I don't know what that would be, I've... I've been keeping my head in the sand, I don't, " Valerian licked his lips and turned away, " I'm ... I can help you." It was lame, but he'd run out of excuses that weren't 'I'm a coward' and he didn't want to tell her that.

Olive pulled her hand away from him, her eyes flashing fiercely at him. There was something in the look that wasn’t the Olive, the Conny, he would remember. Something more like a caged or cornered wild animal than a noble lady, even a rebellious one. “I should smack you for that,” she bit at him. She wasn’t sure why the comment made her so angry. Maybe the insinuation that this was went it meant to be lain low. But even a servant had a life a thousand times freer than a mage. She’d spent the last five years starving and frightened and angry and threatened and… The moment passed, and Olive’s eyes softened again, her shoulders sagging a little.

“I’m sorry, I-” she said, rubbing her eyes with the hand she’d pulled away from him. How could she explain her outbursts of fear or anger or outrage?

His offer of ‘help,’ however, only made her frown. She didn’t know what he meant by it, and wondered if he knew himself. She studied him for a long moment. “Vale, you know… You know I’m a criminal, right?” she asked him carefully. “Erwin might not want people to think of me that way,” she continued, forgetting to use the Duke’s title instead of his given name, “and the staff here might not all want to see me that way, but I’m a mage. I was sent to the camps, and I escaped. However the people of Wulfbauer might want to see me - the old duke’s daughter, returned from the dead, or whatever - under Calent’s law,” she refused to call him the ‘Grand Duke’ anymore, “there’s no ambiguity. You shouldn’t forget that.”

Valerian waited for the smack but nothing came. A small part of him was worried that they'd grown too far apart, but he'd worry about that later. Emotions were running high. It had been such a happy reunion and he'd gone and ruined it almost instantly by being curious. Wanting to know how she'd been, because she was Conny and she was always ...  Valerian looked away after a moment, his hand empty. He pressed it palm down on his leg to rub the feeling of her hand away.

"Why would I give a fuck - excuse my language - about you being a criminal." He had some idea. She wasn't here for her good behavior, or the other mages would be fine somewhere too. They wouldn't have felt the need to fight back and - No. Valerian's expression turned hard and he stood up with some difficulty. He was torn. The girl, no, the person he loved as much as he cold love anyone - friend or family member - was a mage and for that reason alone he disagreed with the war.  Him being home half a limb lighter just had him wanting it all to stop.

"Conny... Olive." He corrected himself, now standing with his hands on his hips, "No matter what you want. If you want to stay here or... Or... Sneak away or... Hell, Marry the new duke and live a comfortable life, I'm always on your side." he looked at her, his eyes red, Valerian took a deep breath, "You're my family, Olive. I don't care if you're considered a criminal by Crazy Man Calent. You didn't do anything someone else wouldn't have done, I didn't lose my leg to a trench or a bullet wound and I didn't get the burns on my back by falling into a fire pit." His hands went to his face and he pressed his palms to his eyes after a moment. "I know what desperation looks like and people... People make difficult choices when they're faced with it."

Like mages. "If that means running away from a camp or... Killing for some food, then so be it." He sighed, "I don't know what I'm saying just... I'm on your side, whichever that may be."

Olive looked away, torn, as Vale struggled to his feet and swore his loyalty up and down to her. 'If you want to sneak away or... Hell, marry the new duke... I'm on your side.' She gave a little snort. "I think it's safe to say 'marrying the new duke.' is not in my cards." She almost laughed at it, but for the first time she wondered what would Erwin do with her? After making such a show of the fact that she was alive and here in Wulfbauer, he couldn't really just... turn her loose.

'If you want to sneak away...'

No, Olive pushed that option out of her head for the umpteenth time. She had responsibilities here, too. And maybe she could make more of a difference here than she could out there... And more importantly, Olive might be spared if she were caught making such an attempt. But Vale wouldn't be, if he was caught helping her.

But when Vale continued, telling her she 'didn't do anything that anyone else wouldn't have done,' Olive looked up at him, frowning. "You don't know what I have or haven't done, Vale," she said coldly. Images of the destruction of Valence flashing through her mind. She looked down again, muttering, "You shouldn't say things like that when you don't know what you're talking about."

She didn't say the rest of what she was thinking. That as a soldier, he wouldn't know the same desperation a mage felt. A soldier has comrades and the might of the government and the power of the Church behind them. And if he saw the desperation in the face of a mage, cornered in alone? What would he, a soldier, do? That question, she didn't ask.

"I'm... You're right, I don't know what I'm talking about." And then he went silent, all the angry words he wanted to pour out at her were caught behind his lips. Valerian winced and looked away, his attempts at helping with just making her more angry. His hands went into his hair and he pulled at it for a moment, looking at Olive before turning away and walking towards the door, "Maybe I should just... Go back to the stables." He felt awful. His attempts to bring her comfort or at least some sense of solidarity only made her more angry. Made her push him away more. If she wanted peace he would give it to her.

Maybe they'd changed too much.

Changed too much for all the wrong reasons. 

Valerian rubbed at his arm before he took a deep breath, "Would you like me to walk you back to the kitchen? It's on the way." If he went the long way.

"No, Vale, I-" Olive started, about to tell him that he should stay. That she was sorry. That it meant so much to her to find him here. How she'd been asking after him the entire time. But she stopped herself. Maybe it was better for him to go now. Somehow this reunion had taken the wrong turn, and Olive didn't only want to make it worse.

"No, it's fine," she finally answered, looking down and rubbing her forehead with one hand, "I need a minute before I go back. I can walk myself."

She didn't say anything else. And if Vale opened the door to go then, he'd find two of the younger, overly-curious kitchen maids poised eavesdropping outside the door.

He nodded, though she probably wouldn't see it.

Then the door opened and there were people there. Valerian hissed at them and stomped his good foot like he hissed at wayward cats and the girls - just like the cats - took off at a run down the hallway. He shut the door and moved to sit back beside Olive. "Take your minute. I will walk you to the kitchen." Another breath.

"I thought about you every day when I was away," His voice was soft, "I... I'm sorry, Olive." he ducked his head down, "I'm just... Trying to make up for lost time too fast." He scuffed his shoe against the ground,"When you're ready... If you're ready... to tell me... everything, I'm all ears. Maybe I got too wordy but... I really am on your side." Valerian kept his head ducked and he didn't look at her, a little ashamed of his initial reaction. Maybe he should have had a shot of whiskey before bringing down that sack of flour. His nerves wouldn't be nearly as frayed as they are now.

Olive glanced up as the door opened, revealing the maids who scampered away. Well, she wasn't really surprised. But she wished that Vale would just go. She wanted to be alone for a moment, and she definitely did not want him to walk her back to the kitchen. It would be bad enough already; even without the eavesdropping maids, she was sure everyone would be able to read enough of how this exchange went on her face.

But his insistence stoked a cold anger in her stomach. Not the same kind as before that flared up and lashed out. Maybe it went deeper than that. Some irrational feeling that, in the end, no one from her old life had really been 'on her side' when it mattered. Despite the fact that she understood why her parents had consented to sending her away - what choice had they had, as Duke and Duchess? - she couldn't squash a feeling, deep deep down, wishing that they'd acted as her parents who could put their child first, not nobles who had to put the duchy first. And Vale? He'd joined the army. The same army that was rounding up mages, mages like her, and shipping them off to the horrors of the north. The same army that razed towns to the ground, just because they were rumored to harbor one single mage. Oh, it wasn't so simple, she knew that, being in the army, it wasn't really a 'choice.' But she'd met men, men who weren't mages, who'd abandoned their posts to fight alongside mages. Or who had committed mutiny to help mages under their command, and for a moment her heart tightened, thinking of Lorent. But had Vale? Had Avery, or Caspian, or any of her friends from university? No.

Olive knew these feelings weren't 'fair,' she knew intellectually, and most of the time she could push the feelings away, too, bury them. But Vale was bringing them back now.

Finally, after a long silence, she asked him, "You said you've seen the face of desperation, Vale. But tell me, what did you do?" She looked up at him then. "What did you do when you saw desperation in some mage's eyes. Some mage that wasn't me, wasn't your 'Conny.' What did you do then? Did you offer to help to them? Did you tell them that you were on their side?"

He frowned at her. He wasn't on their side. He was on her side. He was on Olive's side, and just because she was a mage didn't change that. Valerian let out a careful breath and looked over at her, "I let them bury me under a building they set on fire." He gave a bitter laugh, "She looked a lot like you, I had my sword out, I had a gun. But..." Vale dropped his head, pushing his fingers through the back of his hair before rubbing at the scars on his neck.

"Her eyes. I gave up my leg, I gave up a big chunk of what makes my young life worth living for that girl and I don't even know if she managed to escape." Would it have been worth it if she had? Valerian looked at the prosthetic, giving his knee a rub. "I was just some monster to her." He pushed his hands through his hair, "I'm not on their side. I'm on your side. I'm your friend. This isn't about mages, this is about you. You're... You're Conny. Short of letting you jump out of a window, I'd do anything for you. Why can't you just accept that for what it is?"

“No, Vale, it is about mages,” she answered, keeping her voice lower in case there were more curious ears floating around. “For me,” she put a hand to her chest, gesturing to herself, “it is.”

His story gave her pause. And a hardened part of her heart kept asking, ’But is it true?’ Of course it was, she told herself, if he said it. But that wasn’t all she heard from him: them, them, them. No, she thought, it was clear whose side he was on. And while Vale might be able to see Olive as separate from every other mage, she no longer could. And his insistence that she was different, if only in his eyes, just made the cold feeling in her stomach grow.

“You can be my friend, but if you care about ‘me’ and not about ‘them,’” she told him clearly, her eyes not wavering from his this time, “you’re not ‘on my side.’ That's my side, Vale. And if you’re my friend, you need to accept that for what it is.”

A small part of him snapped and his hands balled into fists.

Nothing he said was making this better.

Everything he tried to make this better with just made her angrier. Was it because he wasn't lumping her in with the rest of them? Because he refused to just think of her as 'a mage' instead of ... His friend? The person he grew up with? Valerian frowned at the idea. He didn't want to do that, she wasn't just some mage.

"Then I guess that's what it is," He finally said, he'd rather be uncomfortable and have his friend, than regret ruining something that took years to forge, years of his life to forge. "I accept that. I'm just... Doing a really bad job trying to explain how I feel about this. About you." He pressed his palms to his eyes and sighed loudly, "Why are you even so angry at me? Because I... Worded things so wrong?"

Vale, you don't know me anymore. You can't know how you feel about me. She wanted to say those words, but she didn't. This was spiraling out of control. It needed to end. She didn't want to fight with him. And maybe she didn't want to hear more about... what he thought he felt about her. She didn't want it to need explaining. In the back of her head, the warnings she'd received as a teenager about her continued friendship, her close relationship, with the stablehand's boy rang in the back of her memory. Her mother asking her (scolding her, she'd thought at the time) whether or not it was fair, now that they were nearly adults, to be so close to a boy whose life would be so different from hers. Now they were adults, and her mother was gone, and for the first time, she wasn't certain. Vale's words, 'About you,' had sent her pulse double-speed. And she didn't want to think more about that, either.

"Vale, I..." she started, then let out a long exhale, sagging a little. Rubbing her face, she got to her feet and walked over to Vale so that she was between him and the door. So, essentially, he couldn't block her. "I should go back to the kitchen. Just because I'm not actually employed here, it doesn't... I shouldn't have left for so long. Vale, I'm..." but she couldn't find the words. So instead she leaned forward and kissed him briefly on the cheek. It was a friendly gesture, but also a cordial gesture, a polite one. And Olive wasn't sure if she did it to bring them closer, or to establish a distance between them. When she pulled away, she didn't stop to make eye contact with him again.

She disappeared into the hallway, half-shaking, walking herself back to the kitchen.

Just like that, she left.

At least it wasn't a good kiss. The last time he'd been that lucky he didn't see her for years. Maybe this kiss only meant he wouldn't see her for a few weeks. Valerian sword violently after the door closed and punched the wall, angry at himself for screwing everything up so beautifully. That couldn't have gone worse if he'd tried.

So while Olive made her way to the kitchen, Valerian made his way back to the stables. Angry. Irritated. Frustrated. Helpless. It hurt him that things wouldn't just... Pick back up. She'd changed more than he thought she would have and it hurt in his chest that he couldn't help her.

So finally, when he was in his own home, Valerian took a shot of whiskey to numb the ache in his chest, and by the time he had his sixth, he wasn't feeling much at all.

A few hours after the drama of Vale's entrance to the kitchen and Lady Constance's stony return, Astrid appeared in the stables carrying a sack of old apples balanced on her hip. She was expecting to find Bairn, but the old stablehand was still down at the smithy discussing what shoes and bridles and other horsey things they needed made. So when she instead found Vale - and a bottle of whiskey, which looked like the better half of it was empty - she stopped with a sudden, "Oh."

Of course, Astrid had other business to talk to Bairn about than just old apples, but that wasn't for Vale's ears. She'd have to find some other pretext for crossing paths with Bairn later. So for now she just gave Vale a curt, but not unfriendly, nod. "Cook's sent out all our old apples for the horses. Can I put'em somewhere for you?"

Astrid paused then, giving Vale a long and meaningful look. As though trying to decide whether curious gossip was beneath her. Deciding that she was more curious than she was dignified, Astrid gave Vale a sidelong look and asked him, "Hey, what'd you say to Lady Constance to shake her up like that? I don't think I've ever seen her so stony-faced or quiet." Setting the sack of apples down with no small effort, she gave him a half-smile and added, "You were awfully familiar with her, when you came in."

Lounging was a good word for what Vale was doing. Tilting back on a chair with his boots on the table, lazily an eye opened and he looked between the girl and the apples. Hurray. He loved when people just... Came by. "I'll take care of in a minute, thank you Astrid."

At her question, he righted himself in the chair and sat up. A little fuzzy he frowned at her, and he smirked. "I was trying to convince her to run away and marry me," He lied giving Astrid a wicked grin and his eyebrows a waggle, "and of course I was familiar. We grew up together." he pushed his hand through his hair and rested his head on his hand, his elbow on the table. He eyed the apples and then the whiskey bottle but didn't move. It felt like the table was rocking and he knew that if he got up now he'd probably fall over.

"Was that everything you needed?"

Astrid gave a little snort of a laugh. "Doesn't seem like you did a good job convincing her."

She could tell when she was being dismissed, but Astrid lingered a bit, watching Vale curiously. Partially, this was just because in a long day's work, small chances to stop and socialize were always welcome. But partially because she had a newfound curiosity in the crippled stablehand. By way, maybe, of her curiosity about Constance. He had certainly shaken her up.

"No need to get snippy with me, Valerian," she retorted with an airy manner. "I only worked here for two years, haven't I? How was I supposed to know you 'grew up together.' But if you ask me, I'd say our like doesn't usually 'grow up' with a lady. Then again, I don't know any other ladies who beg to be allowed to work in the kitchen, so." Astrid gave a shrug. "Odd duck, isn't she, Lady Constance?"

She eyed the bottle of whiskey, what was left of it, then Valerian. "Tell me the horses drank some of that."

Valerian stuck his tongue out at Astrid after he little comment, "Yeah, I can't convince any of the girls, I've gotten used to it." When she called him out on his snappy behavior he had the good graces to look sheepish and frown slightly, that was right, she hadn't been here as long as he has.

Not many people have.

Not many people his age, that is.

"She is an odd duck," He brushed his hand over his mouth and looked back at Astrid, wishing she'd just sit down already because looking at her was making him dizzy, "The stories I could tell you about that girl..." Vale started, but didn't continue on and instead looked towards the bottle of whiskey, "Whiskey is bad for horses," He nodded towards it and then looked back at her, "Want some?"

"It's not great for men, either," Astrid remarked dryly, "at least not by the bottle." Even as she was saying it, though, she pulled the chair out from across Vale and took a seat. "Well, I suppose if your dad's not around this was my last task for the night. Give us a drop, then. Just 'cause it seems less said if you're not drinking all alone."

Astrid watched him curiously from across the table. "I don't think you're supposed to be telling stories about your employer. Of course, I suppose the Carwicks aren't our employers anymore. You two really 'grow up' together?"

Valerian gave her a look when she said it would be less sad than drinking alone. It was his hobby, how rude of her to insult his hobby. So, Vale filled up his small glass half way and pushed it across the table towards the girl before resting his head in his hand. "Sure did. Got into lots of trouble." He paused, frowning, "Why didn't anyone tell me she was back?" Vale gave her an accusing look, "How hard it is to tell me 'oh hey, Lady Constance is home, she got into some serious shit so, hey, be nice'?"

"If I had to hazard a guess," Astrid remarked shrewdly as she took the little glass from Vale, "it might have something to do with that bottle you're drowning in, Valerian."

None the less, she held up the little glass to softly clink it against his, well... bottle.

"But to be honest, we don't know much of anything about what sort of 'serious situations she got into,'" she told him, correcting his rude language. After all, it might be fine for a stablehand to talk like that, but a maid could easily be set with extra scrubbing for words like those! "She's been working maybe half a day in the kitchen with us for the last week, and she stays pretty tight lipped about it all. Not that I blame her. It was all very strange circumstances, her arriving here."

Astrid took a sip of the whiskey, clearly bracing herself, and managed not to pull a face. "But as for why no one told you - well, none of us, anyway - is because we were told not to. I'm not privy to their conversations, but I think it was Grace who told cook who told us," she said with a shrug. Grace had been Caroline Carwick's lady's maid. She'd been very strict with the children, when they'd been children, and very disapproving of them running around together. But since Constance's return, she'd protected her old mistresses's daughter like a tiger. "I mean, I could obviously make a guess or two as to why they wouldn't want the newly returned-from-the-dead lady running around with the drunk stablehand, though," she finished, wrinkling a nose teasingly at him, but her tone, at least, wasn't unkind.

Valerian had his hands in his hair and he was...

Well.

Mostly he was just pouting.

"Yeah." He swallowed thickly and closed the whiskey bottle before he pushed it away. "Yeah, I guess I wouldn't want anyone to be around the drunk stablehand either." He gave Astrid a look, a hint, a nice not so subtle request for her to just go away so that he could mope in peace. Something he's had far too much time doing.

"Tell Lady Constance my apologies when you see her, please?" He closed his eyes after a moment before he sat up and gave her an odd look, folding his arms over his chest. "I said some pretty stupid sh-things and I really doubt she wants to see me again, and you're in the kitchens so." He offered Astrid a smile and shrugged, "Was there anything else you needed or are you just gonna... Hang out?"

Astrid made a 'tsch!' sound and huffed at Valerian. "Well, I was only keeping you a bit of company," she replied curtly, getting up from the table. In truth, Astrid felt a bit badly for Valerian. Not because he was crippled per se (though that probably played a role), but because everyone saw him that way, and because he spent so much time out here alone. She was just trying to be friendly. She'd even been obliquely offering to fill him in on what she knew about Constance! "But I can tell where I'm not wanted. You can give your apologies yourself, though. I'm not getting in the middle of any spat you've started."

Astrid brushed a piece of hay off her skirt, then looked back rather professional-like at Valerian. "When your dad gets back, can you let him know I need to talk to him about ordering? We're thinking about getting the horse oats and such from the same supplier as we use for the kitchen, and we need to go over some logistics. Anyway, I'll leave you to it."

And with that, she turned and left, leaving the whiskey he'd offered her more or less untouched in the glass.

---

Olive spent the next few days trying not to think about Valerian and mostly failing. She hadn't brought herself to ask Grace about just why she hadn't been told Vale was in the Keep, despite having asked her about him before. Two nights later, she sat awake in bed. It was late, hours after most of the household had gone to sleep. Moving to the window, Olive bit her lip, peering out into the night. Then she made a decision.

It was a long shot. But when they were younger, Olive used to signal to Vale by lighting a candle in the window. There was an entrance to an attic space in the closet of Olive's room. An old forgotten thing, that Olive could only just squeeze through. But the attic, though cramped, was a long space, passing over several rooms besides Olive's. And at the far end of it, there was a service entrance that could be entered through a storage loft. When they were younger, she'd light a candle in her window and it would be the signal to meet in the attic that they both had access to. She went to the closet, checking if she could still pry open the attic entrance in the ceiling. She pushed against it, causing a showering of dust. But it opened.

Olive let out a sigh, then returned to the window. She took a single candle and lit it in the window. He probably wouldn't come. It must be two hours past midnight. He probably wouldn't even see it. But all the same, Olive carefully lifted another candle into the attic. And, figuring that she would spend the time up there alone, a book as well. Then she pulled herself up into the attic and walked carefully, silently, to the place halfway through the attic where they used to meet. The place was still set up, with a few blankets and stools and pillows. A dry oil lamp, a few books and sketch books. All covered in a layer of dust. With a sigh, Olive plopped herself down on a pile of blankets, set the candle on a crate that had been fashioned as a make-shift desk, and opened the book in her lap. But she couldn't get her mind to focus on reading it.

Restless as usual.

His leg ached as it always did after a day of stuff. So every night, just about. Valerian was extra restless right now though and he rubbed his face and rubbed at his leg, frowning deeply at it. This was about the time of day he'd wished the injury had just killed him, when he was trying to sleep and everything just hurt.

Years of habit kept him always looking at that window. Even when he knew she was gone he'd look at the window, the little boy he'd been always looking for that candle. So, while he was limping his way to get some water he looked at the window and stared for a moment, going so far as to rub at his eyes and pinch his arm. No, he wasn't dreaming.

The candle.

Short of breath he got himself dressed as quickly as he could and quietly left the building. Sure his leg hurt, but the candle was in the window. Conny - Olive - wouldn't just... Leave a candle there. She knew what that meant, right? Valerian would never admit it, but a few times after he'd gotten back he'd just wait for the candle light to go on, it never did.

By the time he got to the attic he was a little out of breath, a little covered in dust and a little covered in cobwebs. And there she was. Vale felt like an asshole. It was noisy enough in the room - though he tried to be quiet because it was so late - but he looked around the attic and finally sat down a ways away, cross legged. "Good book?" He asked gently, clearing his throat, "I always remember this place being bigger, I wouldn't be surprised if I bash my head somewhere," he said with a humourless laugh.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Olive, had, of course, heard Vale coming before she'd seen him. But all the same, when the glow of his lantern finally appeared in the long dark attic, she felt her stomach leap. Why did she feel so strange? She straightened up, closing the book, but when he finally came and sat down, for a moment Olive just stared. Something about his demeanor made her feel immediately on the defensive. How he sat so far away, just barely within the reach of her single candle's light. How he asked - instead of really greeting her - if it was a 'good book.' As though she might be up here to read a book and not to see him. How he laughed so mirthlessly.

Olive swallowed.

"I... I don't know. I haven't really been able to read a word of it," she answered, the words coming out in a tumble that sounded both awkward and slightly nervous. Was it a mistake, coming up here? Lighting that candle? "Vale, I-" she started, then stopped, putting the book down on the dusty attic floor and scooting just a little closer to him. Though not too close; something in the way he was sitting seemed too stand-off-ish, and she decided not to invade his space. "I wanted to apologize for the other day," she finally said, more collected, but still unsmiling and a little wide-eyed. "I mean, not for what I said, really... I meant that. But, just, that it wasn't nicer. I don't know, I-" She what? She didn't know, so she settled on, "I was so happy to see you."

Shit. Shit was still awkward.

Valerian took a deep breath, only to quickly regret it because he sneezed. His arm going to his face to muffle it quickly. When she scooted closer, he shuffled closer too. Here he was thinking that giving her space was what she wanted, he'd been bad at reading people. It was clear that he was still terrible at it. At least that never changed.

"Oh... Co- Olive." He pushed his hands through his hair and sighed, "I was an asshole." His palms went to his eyes and he took his lantern and shuffled closer to her, bringing more light and putting it beside her candle. "I... I was angry that no one had told me and I wanted... You to just be comfortable with me again." He gave another quiet chuckle, looking over at her for a moment, "I blew that option real good. Ran my mouth about shi--Stuff I don't know about."

Another big breath and he reached for Olive's hand, hesitant, before he took it and gave it a light squeeze. "I'm happy to see you too."

"You've always been an asshole," she responded, mustering a teasing smile for him. "At least some things don't change."

But the smile didn't last. Olive's eyes fell to her hand in his, but didn't withdraw it. "I didn't know that no one had told you," she said, "hell, I didn't know you were here. I asked Grace half a dozen times about you. I wanted to go ask your father, but-" But she wasn't allowed to leave the manor. She wondered if he knew that yet. That she wasn't entirely free here.

She sighed, taking her hand back to pull her knees up in front of her and wrapping her arms around them. 'I wanted you to be comfortable with me again.' She wanted to say that of course she was comfortable with him, but that was obviously at this moment a lie. "You acted fine," she finally said, sounding tired, but not because of the hour. "It was just... So much has happened in the last five years."

And seeing Vale was making her really realize how much it had changed her.

Ouch.

Valerian wrinkled his nose at her when she agreed with his asshole-ery. That wasn't an intended shove in for her to call him an asshole! Also, that wasn't true! "Yeah, but I haven't really been an asshole to you. You have special 'played with me in mud' privileges" His voice turned soft and he let her pull her hand away, simply watching her while she curled up into a ball and made herself appear so small.

His good leg was up and he propped his elbow up on it, looking down at the ground for a few moments. "Yeah... Five years is..."  Valerian took a deep breath and looked down, at his leg. Or his not log, to get technical. "It's a long time." He offered her a smile, it wasn't the boyish grin, but just.. A small smile. "I'm happy to see you though, far more happy than is probably appropriate." He chuckled and looked around the attic, "I really should have done some upkeep. This place is damn dusty."

She wasn't certain if she was relieved or secretly disappointed that he hadn't asked again about what had happened to her while she was gone (because she would never admit, even to herself, that she wanted to tell him). But Olive could already feel herself relaxing regardless, or at least letting her guards down. Because however much more comfortable she was starting to feel, there was still a sort of wired tension built up in her, and her pulse hadn't seemed to calm to a normal level.

"Hm." She rested her head on her knees, turning it to look up at him. And she actually smiled, a small and genuine smile. Though it might have been a little sly. "Tell me. What amount of happiness is 'appropriate?'"

Valerian's mouth opened up and the only sound that came out of him was a dull "uuuh..." Did he say that? He snapped his mouth shut, cleared his throat and quickly looked away. "You know how in books or plays, when the one fellow is super happy to see the one lady he picks her up and spins her around?" He nodded once, making a swirling motion with his fingers, and while he was capable of picking her up, his balance had never really been the same since losing his leg.

"I figure that's about as almost not-appropriate as it gets." He looked away, feeling a bit like he was twelve instead of a damn adult man. "I..." He cleared her throat and looked away, he couldn't tell her that. That wasn't... They weren't the same. Oh, the hell with it, what did he have to lose? It would either work out or be kinda awkward and Valerian's whole life was more or less one awkward episode after the other. "So, I guess appropriate is everything before kissing."

Olive's smile broadened a little as she watched the flustered Valerian struggle with her words. In that moment, she did feel like the old Olive. And he certainly still looked like the old Valerian. Blushing and awkward and tongue-tied. She remembered his stunned expression after she'd kissed him the one time. She'd felt very pleased with herself, shocking him like that. She didn't think about the fact that she hadn't seen him again after that; she didn't need to be reminded of that. Right now, she felt closer to that moment than she had in years. Not as though the intervening years and all their pain hadn't happened, or that those years didn't matter; but just then it felt like didn't didn't matter... so much.

And she was going to allow herself that.

For the first time in a long time, at least for the moment, she didn't feel so serious.

So casual as she liked (and much more casual than she felt!), and trying to repress a mischievous smile, she remarked, "But you haven't kissed me. So I guess you're safe."

Was that an invitation?

Valerian really had never gotten her back for that one kiss. It would be dangerous though. Not physically - who was gonna know? - but emotionally. Olive was... Olive. He knew this was a dangerous game to play and he shuffled a little closer, his face more serious. "But I really want to." His eyes flicked down to her lips and then he looked back at her eyes before he smiled and looked away, not about to spring that on her.

It would put her on the spot, maybe make her nervous and shuffle away.

"So yeah. You're lucky I have will of steel -" A complete lie "-or you'd just have... One big old gross wet smooch."

Olive stayed put exactly where she was, even as Vale moved closer. No,she was going to make him close the distance between them, if anyone was. But she shifted how she was sitting, so that her legs were akimbo and not pulled in front of her.

"Hm," she said again, playing it cool despite how her heart was racing. The way he said 'really'...

"A will of steel," she said with a little smile, surprised that she could muster the same streak of boldness she had all those years ago, "or a cowardly set of nerves."

Gauntlet thrown down.

Valerian's mouth dropped open but he quickly closed it into a devilish grin. Most of him was shocked but the small parts that weren't were pleased. Selfishly pleased, even. Far beyond selfishly pleased. There was an unfamiliar thump in his chest - nervous maybe? But she practically just asked him to without using the actual words, right?

It was a rush of movement, maybe a little sloppily because he had thought he was closer but still. Valerian leaned real close, inside her personal bubble. "Cowardly?" A smirk, an eyebrow rose. "Oh no. Maybe cowardly if Grace ever found out but you wouldn't tell her, would you?" Then, gently he took Olive's chin, turned her head and gave her a gentle kiss. The hold on her chin was simply to direct her head and there was little pressure on her lips.

Enough space for her to jerk away if the touch was unwanted. Or if Valerian had read the signals really wrong. There was space to back up. 

Olive didn’t back up.

She didn’t back up half an inch from the gentle kiss. If anything, she leaned into it; though not much. As soon as his lips met hers, Olive knew this was what she wanted, right now. Outside of this attic, part of her knew, this was a terrible thing to do. Selfish, unfair, inappropriate, burying her head in the sand. But right now, inside the attic, she decided not to think about that.

If she’d been thinking harder about it - and maybe it’d occur to her later - she’d wonder if she, if they, weren’t taking a short cut. Olive also wanted them to ‘just be comfortable’ with each other again. Getting there by talking, telling each other all the ways they felt and all the things that had changed them, would be hard. And long. This was easy, and immediate. And treacherous.

When the kiss ended, Olive didn’t move away from Vale. She tried to frown, but it was clear she was suppressing a smile. “Oh,” she said, “that kiss wasn’t very inappropriate. So I guess you’re only a little happier than appropriate. So you’re probably still safe.”

Part of him knew it was a bad idea. The rational adult part that knew there might be consequences to actions. The part that knew this wouldn't carry on past the attic. That maybe he'd look back on this and regret it completely. Still, he wanted and after he'd pulled away, he caught the look on her face. Valerian had grown selfish. When he could take something offered, instead of contemplating it... He simply grabbed it and thought on it later.

The beat between her talking and him moving in again was silent. Slowly he moved his hand to her cheek, his calloused thumb drawing over the smooth skin before he brushed his hand over the side of her head, gently tugging on her ear lobe before he caught her chin again. Then he went in for it, pressing his lips to her's roughly, his one hand going to her waist to pull her closer so that he could hold her tightly while smashing their lips together in a messy deep kiss.

Olive's arms reached us, her hands in Vale's hair, pressing herself forward as he pulled her closer. Her lips parted, allowing the kiss to deepen, and she kissed him back with just as much fervor as him.  How could this really be wrong? This felt... almost like home. Feeling him, smelling him, Vale, real Vale, not just a shadow from her past. Once it would have been, even in that moment she knew that. But she wasn't the duke's daughter anymore. She wasn't going to make an important marriage. So... who cared?

Right then, Olive certainly didn't.

What she should have cared about was how this would feel tomorrow, or the day after. This was easy, and nice, and set her pulse thundering. But would it really repair the gap in their relationship? Maybe. Maybe not. But she wasn't asking herself any of those questions for long, her fingers lacing into Vale's hair.

She still had some presence of mind to stop, or maybe... slow down. After what felt like a long time, she pulled away from the kiss, resting her forehead on Vale's for a moment before pulling back a little to look at him. "Alright," she said with a smile that crinkled her nose, "I guess I believe you then."

There was no surprised when she pulled away from the kiss.

Valerian did however, look very pleased with himself. It was silly how pleased with himself he was, it was just a kiss. Still, it was a kiss that had been waiting for years and he was giddy to finally get some payback. "Good. You shouldn't doubt me when it comes to kissing pretty girls," Slowly he turned to look around the attic, reaching over to grab her book.  "This one of those girly romance novels?"

His eyebrows were wiggling while he asked that and turned to flip through it. Though he didn't look at the cover or the back, which would ruin the surprise.

Olive crinkled her nose at his self-satisfied boasting. "Did anyone ever tell you that gloating isn't very attractive?" It wasn't really a fair question, considering that she'd been far, far worse when she'd been younger. She stuck her tongue out at him all the same, though, in a real show of maturity and adultness. Olive shifted her weight so that she was leaning against Vale's chest. The air in the attic was less tense now, and Olive was more comfortable, but some of her earlier weariness or sadness settled on her again.

"What?" she asked; she hadn't been paying attention when Vale reached over to the book. "Oh, no," she said with a little laugh. Far from a romance novel, the heavy old tome was a treatise on hops cultivation and trade; hops being one of Wulfbauer's keep crops. Furthermore, it was written rather in Common, in Old Antiquarian, a scholarly language used by universities from Essryn to Connlaoth. It caused a little pang when he opened it; the book seemed like too tangible a reminder of the different positions. Not that government was really her 'position' anymore (or ever, as a woman), but Olive had become something of an unofficial advisor to the duke. And she wanted, more than most things, to be useful. "Well, I didn't think you'd come. So I needed something exciting to read."

No?

Valerian looked at the cover and just stared at it, stared at her and just... Mostly stared. "This is exciting to you." His voice was dead pan and Olive got an odd look. He looked down at her briefly before opening the book and just... Staring some more. "I was going to make a joke about how if I read this exciting book to you it'd make you all blushy and warm but..." He flipped through the pages pretending to look a little disappointed, "I do not know this language." Valerian closed the book and put it down in front of them all the while making 'tsk'ing noises with his mouth.

Mostly disappointed with the lack of an opportunity to tease Conny. Olive.

"Why didn't you think I'd come? Have I ever not came to the attic?" He rose his eyebrows, giving her a challenging look, "Without good reason."  He looked away after a moment, "Honestly I was always sort of looking for the candle. Sorta... Like you'd just appear one day and the candle would be lit. The day dreams of a young boy polluting the mind of a man, I guess."

"You didn't come once when we were ten after I'd punched you in the mouth earlier in the day," Olive told him matter-of-factly. She shifted then so she could watch his expression. His words about waiting for the candle were just so... sad. It made her wonder suddenly if he'd done it, too, when she'd gone to Uthlyn. Or if he would have kept looking for the candle if the war had never happened, if she'd been married and... Olive hadn't thought of it before, but it occurred to her then that, even without the war, their lives would have been Valerian staying here, working in the stables, while she went to university, went to the capital or other duchies, married and moved on.

No, she told herself then. Without the war, he wouldn't have lost his leg. He'd have joined the army and had lots of his own adventures. Definitely.

Instead of thinking longer about that, or answering his question about 'why she didn't think he'd come,' Olive decided to keep ignoring all the serious parts of the conversation.

"When have you ever known me to read that sort, though?" she asked him accusingly. "And what do you know about 'girly romance novels?' But," she grinned at him, "I think we both know that, in the very inappropriate scene you just described, you would be the one blushing!"

"True," Valerian remembered that day. His face had hurt as much as his pride and it was loneliness and the urge to go play with his friend that had him get over his momentary grudge over her punching him in the mouth. He liked to think he matured a little on that day. Just a little. A smidge. He'd also learned that day to not pick battles he wasn't ready to fight because they got him a split lip.

"uuuh..." Quickly his eyes darted to the side and he gave her a smile, looking away and did blush. Damn. "I read a lot of books while I was..." He looked down at his leg for a moment. It had taken forever to heal, or at least for someone who was used to being so active it took forever. "One of the ladies brought it to me as a joke," He cleared his throat, "So I read it. I read everything they put in front of me. I know so many recipes. Can't make them worth a damn because I can't cook, but I can tell you how to make them." Here's to hoping she'd catch onto that last part instead of the 'I totally read all the romance novels' that lingered in the air.

It felt wrong to tease him about anything he did while recovering. But... she couldn't help smirking at him. "Forget the recipes; it's not like I know how to cook any better than you do." Well, maybe Olive could 'cook' more than she could before. But she knew how to do things like roast wild game birds on an open fire. Nothing the cook in Wulfbauer Keep would consider 'cooking.'  "Tell me more about these 'exciting' ladies' novels. I never read any."

This, at least, was true. Growing up, Olive read little more than what her tutors had forced her to read. The rest of the time she was running around the grounds, frequently with Vale. Or riding with her father, or shooting, or hunting. All the tom-boy things her mother hated. At university she had, of course, read more. But nothing like that. She'd just... fooled around, instead of reading the silly books her few female friends read.

"I'm curious to hear what you think would make me blushed and not you."

In the back of her mind, a voice was reminding her that she'd really lit that candle because she wanted to talk to Vale. Not about... romance novels. But about what happened to her since leaving. To try to make him understand better who she was now. She hadn't lit the candle to pretend she was still the girl she had been. But it was so much nicer; did it matter if it was so much less sincere?

Slowly, Valerian just stared at her, reaching over to press his palms over her ears and shook his head. Then he let go and just stared at her, frowning and then snapping his fingers, wiggling his index finger at her. "You're stalling." He folded his arms over his chest and just gave her a look, "Trying to get me all blushy and nervous 'cause I've read bad stories about people falling in love and having sex, oh no you don't, Miss Constance Olivia."

He gave the candle a look. Gave his lantern a look before he pushed a hand through his hair. "Why didn't you think I'd come to the attic? Really." Valerian licked his lips and sighed, "I already admitted to being a total asshole to you. Unless you explicitly told me to never look at you or talk to you again, you're out of luck on getting rid of me."

She was stalling. And you're acting, she thought as he wagged his finger at her. They both were. Pretending to be people they weren't anymore. Her eyes followed him to the candle, thinking this. Then she let out a long exhale through her nose and gave a small shrug.

"Well, it's the middle of the night, for one thing," she started. "I thought you'd be asleep as likely as not. And even if you weren't, I didn't think you'd be on the lookout." She didn't say anything about how the maids had flooded her with stories of Valerian and 'his bottle' or that she thought if he were awake, he might not be sober enough to make it up to the attic. Maybe their stories were overblown, she'd told herself. "But also... I didn't know if you'd want to come. After the other day.

She frowned, reality creeping into the attic. "I probably shouldn't have put it there at all. You know I'm, I mean, I'm not really a 'guest' here. It's too dangerous for you, if you were accused of trying to help me escape or something - Not that I'm trying to escape," she added quickly. Not right now, anyway. But Olive would be lying if she said she didn't long for the freedom of living in the wilds and across the countryside. She didn't miss lots of things, though: not having a safe place to turn, not having enough to eat. And in those years, she'd seen several men like Valerian: men the war had left too maimed to be 'useful.' But Valerian was lucky; those men didn't have wooden legs or regular employment or a home. They'd been left as wandering beggars, limping along with rough-fashioned sticks. The thought of the same thing happening to Vale turned her stomach cold and she suddenly wondered what she'd been thinking. It had been very selfish, to ask him to come up here. She looked back up at him then, her expression earnest instead of teasing; she wasn't play-acting her eighteen-year-old self anymore. "You can't risk losing your place here, Vale."

You can't risk losing his place here.

Instantly Valerian sobered, frowning at her and sitting up straighter. That's what she called him here for? The real reason. To tell him to just... Not risk it. Absent minded Valerian rubbed at his knee, hands going over the prosthetic leg for a second before he pulled his hand away and just... Frowned at the floor.  "Sure I can, I can risk my life for a war I think is utter bullshit but oh no, when it comes to you - oh no, that's too serious." He waved his hands in front of him sort of like lack luster jazzhands.

Slowly he put his hands back into his lap and then slowly pushed them through his hair, tugging at the ends. "Conny. Olive. Whatever you want me to call you. You have to tell me you don't want my help. None of this trying to make me back down on my own." He frowned at her, looking away after a moment, "Tell me you don't want me to help you. Tell me that after everything you've been through and everything you're going to go through that I'm the only person here whose help you don't want."  Then he gave her a haughty look, "Then maybe I'll think about being selfish. Maybe."

"No, that's not what I meant," Olive said for what felt like the billionth time. She was really winning at this. She frowned, running a hand through her hair until it stopped, caught at the start of her braid, then she withdrew it. She looked at Valerian with a helpless sigh.

"I just meant... It was selfish for me to set the candle in the window, to call you up here. That it was stupid of me to make it look like you might be 'aiding a prisoner', when you haven't." She gave a little huff, "Even if you keep offering to."

She let out a exhale through her nose and looked away into the darkness of the attic. 'Tell me that after everything you've been through and everything you're going to go through that I'm the only person here whose help you don't want.' "I didn't put the candle there so I could ask for your help, Vale. Or to reject it. But you say that," she gave him a weary, half-heart smile, "as though you know 'everything I've been through' or as though I know 'everything I'm going to go through.' Neither of us know those things. But I just put the candle there..." she searched, then gave a helpless shrug. "Because I wanted to see you. Selfish, stupid as it was."

"I'm sorry," Valerian looked away and instead of curling up more, he laid down, stretching out his legs and stared up at the ceiling. "I've gotten really bad at talking to people. Most of the conversations I have are with horses or w... cups." Though he was sure Olive knew he had an unhealthy relationship with alcohol, it was another thing for him to just out right say it.

Then he yawned, wide and long and rested his hands on his stomach, looking over at Olive and trying to smile. "I've been assuming it was some pretty seriously shitty shit you've been through. You're different. Not y'know, hobble around 'cause you lost a leg and you're really bitter now different but... " He moved his arm to cover his eyes with his forearm. "We've changed. I know I didn't change for the better," He said with a smirk, fully aware of how angry he was at the world now.

"It's been nice to pretend we haven't though," He gave her that boyish grin and lifted his arm from his eyes to look at her.

"Hm," Olive made the small noise, then smiled a small smile. "You haven't done the best job pretending that you haven't changed," she quipped. "You'd never had been bold enough to kiss me when we were teenagers."

She gave an amused little snort, then shifted to also lay down, close enough to Vale that they were just brushing up against each other. But she lay on her stomach, propping herself up on her elbows. She frowned and her eyes flicked into the darkness, thinking about what he'd said. "Yeah, well, the last years have been... different. That's certain. But I, I've been lucky in a lot of ways. Or, privileged I should say," she admitted with a grimace. Even though it'd let her take risks others couldn't, the fact that she'd been spared many times just because of who her father was still made her feel ashamed.

She glanced back at Vale, looking uncertain. "I... can tell you about it. If you want."

It wasn't an offer she'd made before and, even - or maybe especially - with Vale, it made her feel more than a little vulnerable.

There was a smirk and Valerian briefly looked away. Well he'd be caught. When Olive settled down beside him he looked up at her and reached forward, giving her ear a tug before he shuffled closer to that their hips touched. His hands stayed on his stomach for the remainder and he was just quiet, a moment to look away, to contemplate if he wanted to know.

"Does it give you nightmares?" Valerian asked softly.

Olive gave a small smile mirroring Valerian's guilty, or embarrassed, smirk. But it quickly faded, and she also looked into the darkness. She thought for a moment, contemplating his question. There was no question of the answer, but whether or not she'd give it truthfully. In the end, she decided she would. And, flicking her eyes back to Valerian, she answered, "Yes, it does."

Valerian wasn't familiar with the feeling that could be called 'heartbreak'. Even after he'd lost his leg he'd just been angry. But now, the idea that this girl. This woman would have nightmares made his chest feel hollow and he gently moved his arm to press against hers. Not sure if she was okay with more contact. A quiet reassurance that he was here.

He was heartbroken for the girl he'd known, having grown into the woman who was here beside him now. Not because she was different but because the journey to being different was the cause of nightmares. "I would like to know, but if it makes you uncomfortable, you don't have to tell me," Valerian offered her a small and closed his eyes, his arm still pressed against hers.

"Okay," she said quietly, and watched as he settled down. She didn't draw away from the touch of his arm; if anything, her weight shifted a little to lean more against him. She was silent for a few moments, constructing her history, or at least the start of it.

"After the last time I came home to Wulfbauer, for the Spring Festival, when I returned to Uthlyn I was placed almost immediately under house arrest. I don't know, maybe there was a week or so in between. The other mages in the city were being cleared out already at that point, while I was kept in my quarters there. I asked if I could be allowed to return to Wulfbauer to be kept there - well, here - instead, but was denied. I suppose the thinking was that here at home there would be too high of a chance that someone sympathetic to me would help me escape. My parents, maybe, or a servant or..."

Or a stableboy. She paused, letting out a breath.

"So I was kept in Uthlyn for weeks while the 'common' mages were being corralled and sent to the north, to the camps. At first it seemed as though I would be allowed to stay there indefinitely. The end of the war didn't seem so far away then. It didn't even really seem like a 'war' yet. Eventually it became clear that I wouldn't be allowed to stay. I received a letter from my mother  - the only one I got during that time, so I imagine someone was controlling what I did or didn't receive," the thought that her mother simply hadn't sent more seemed too painful. And, in her gut, she just didn't believe that. "Entreating me to keep in mind my duties, to my family and to Wulfbauer, and to remain obedient to the will of the government. Of course I knew that that I, too, would be 'sent away.' It was only a matter of time.

"I didn't really believe then that the camps existed, though. It just seemed too... ludicrous. I knew that they were taking mages, of course, but I feared they were only being taken into the wilds and shot. In fact, in that last week, I did get an offer to escape. One of the Mordecai who had been tasked with guarding me, actually, offered to smuggle me out of the country. But... I refused. I mean, I was too visible. Everyone knew that the daughter of Duke Carwick was a mage. I thought if I behaved, if I could show that a mage can still be dutiful and pious and obedient... Well, when the Adhara finally came to escort me to the north, I just went. I didn't struggle or try to escape or anything."

It was strange hearing herself say these words. It felt strange, remembering all these things that felt like they happened so long ago. She glanced down at Vale, as if checking that he was still awake.

Then she gave a little huff of an exhale. "Well, to my surprise, she didn't just take me into the forests outside of Uthlyn and kill me. I was so sure she would... I still don't understand why that wasn't what the government did. Why they chose to lock us away and kill us slowly instead of all at once, instantly. To soothe their own consciences, I suppose. If you build something far away and send your problems there, you can pretend they don't exist. Pretend that what you're doing is the humane option, without ever having to see with your own eyes whether or not that's true."

Valerian had his eyes closed, but eventually he opened them and stared at the ceiling. As bitter as he was about his life, he'd never been more than a stableboy. Being drafted had sort of been a boost up the social ladder, even. Going from a Duke's daughter to a hated mage - even a privileged one - was probably some awful culture shock.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Slowly he leaned his head over, giving her a brief look before turning towards the ceiling again. He rose an arm and brushed the back of his hand against her shoulder. An attempt at quiet comfort. Valerian wanted to tell her how he regretted being part of it, even in some small way. What would he be like if he hadn't lost his leg?

Some war loving mongrel, probably. While he was there, he'd met a few of them.

After rubbing her shoulder, he put his hand back on his chest and took a quiet breath. "Conny," his voice was a whisper, "If your elbows start to hurt, I have a pretty comfy shoulder you rest your head on, I've fallen asleep on it once or twice."  Some quiet words to ease the tension. Or he hoped it would. Or kill her story and make her clam up again.

Olive looked down at Valerian when he made his offer, but didn't take him up on it just yet. Instead, she bit her lip. Talking about going to the camps was easy; what was the worst that had happened? Not being shot in the forest? But talking about the camps themselves, that was harder. She didn't want to dilute the horrors she'd seen there; everyone should know what was really happening, what was being done in the name of 'security' for their country. But on the other hand, she didn't want to... Well, she didn't want his pity. Or anybody's. But glancing at Vale again, she thought he might know something about not wanting other people's pity.

"Sometimes I think it would have been better for everyone if they had just shot us all and gotten it over with. I realize that sounds terrible, but..." She paused, trying to formulate what she should say. "When I first arrived at the camp, I was actually kept separate from the rest of the camp population. I was 'invited' to dine with the officers, I didn't have to take on work shifts, no one ever laid a hand on me. But the things that I saw there... I mean, you wouldn't believe it. Children under ten, old men and women far past their working years, and anyone in between, torn away from their lives and families to starve and toil in the dismal north. Men doubled over with age were beaten for not being able to perform tasks they were far too old and weak for. Girls as young as fourteen raped repeatedly by soldiers. Once a boy threw a rock at a soldier who was beating an old woman, unable to carry her burden, and fifteen mages who'd been involved or just too near the resulting scuffle were lined up against the barracks wall and shot, one by one, in the back of the head. Including the boy. We had to clean the blood and splattered brains from the wall. And these things... they weren't isolated incidents. They happened day after day. For years. There are camps where it's still happening. Right now."

The weary sadness was gone from her voice as she described these events. It was replaced by a clear, articulate, and cold anger. She stopped for a long moment, then, her face tight. Then she let out a long breath, relaxing a little it seemed.

"Well, like I said, I had it easier. I wasn't kept separate for very long. You know me, I can never keep my mouth shut. But in some ways it was worse being kept separate; there was more food, but I was so ashamed. But even afterwards, I was lucky. The worst that usually happened to me if I really made the officers angry was to be shut in a solitary hut for a few days without food," she said this in an off-hand way that suggested she really didn't think this was such a big deal. And in comparison, of course, it wasn't. And it was far from the worst thing that had happened there; but she didn't want to tell him about that. "That was the first camp I was at. Still inside of Connlaoth. I think I was there... for a year, maybe. Maybe a year and a half. It's hard to say for sure..."

Olive trailed off, losing the direction of her story. It felt strange to try to summarize that time at all. Sometimes it seemed best to not speak a word of it, and sometimes she felt that she needed to record every single detail of everything that happened. So people would know. And how to tell him about how her time their ended? She knew somehow that she wouldn't tell him about Lorent and his death. But how to tell him how she got the scars on her own back? To describe the failed escape? The soldiers who'd returned with their heaped corpses? The dead faces of the twins, Milo and Lucy, who weren't even mages and hadn't yet seen eleven years. Or sweet, tortured Orchid. And the role of the Templar - the brother of her own childhood friend - who had overseen it all?

She let out another long exhale, then decided to take him up on his offer, shifting her position that she lay on her side next to him, her head against his shoulder. Unsure how to continue her tale.

Valerian went pale while Olive spoke. Pale. Angry. No, angry wasn't the right word. What he felt was rage. That wasn't how you treated people. That wasn't how you treated anyone. He felt his heart speed up and he wanted to break something. There were rumors while he was a solider, sure, stories about the mage camps. Having it spelled out like that though.

Finally the story paused and he found his eyes burning. Shame filled him. How could she stand him? Even for a short while he was part of those soldiers. Could have been one of those soldiers. Maybe if he'd never known Olive he would have been one of those soliders. Trading his leg to get himself out of that army wasn't looking so grim.

Who wanted to be a war hero in this war.

Cowards. Rapists. People that probably didn't deserve to be living, that's who.

Valerian swallowed thickly and when Olive decided to use his shoulder as a head rest he squeezed his eyes shut, not bothering to wipe away the few hot tears that dripped down the side of his face and made his ears itchy while he stared at the ceiling. "I didn't know." Were his whispered wet words, "They don't tell us that."

It was sort of like finding out you were the bad guy this whole time, so instead he didn't speak further. His heart broke a million times over, not for Olive, but for everyone he'd help throw into one of those camps, even in passing during the short time he'd been a solider. Slowly his shifted his arm so he was cradling her head against his arm and offered his hand to hold. "I'm here for you, Conny. Please, never forget that."

Olive pressed herself closer to Valerian. How long had it been since she'd let someone be a source of comfort, physical as well as emotional, for her? With the other rebels, they had been support for each other, made each other stronger, and provided each other with endless solace. But this was comforting, and there was something different in that. Even if she could only turn away all of Valerian's offers of help - she didn't really need help, she thought - just him being here, the physical contact with someone so familiar, was almost unfamiliarly nice. She hugged an arm around his waist, using it to pull herself tight against him.

"I know," she answered him, though she wanted to say, I'm not the one who needs help. They are. All the mages whose side you aren't on, because they're not me. But she only vaguely thought that. She didn't want to argue. She just wanted to hold on to him.

She was silent for another long moment. She didn't know how to pick up her story again. The idea weighed so heavily on her, and the weight in the room felt quite heavy already. "Well, it only gets worse from there," she finally said. "I won't burden you with everything that happened after that. I was sent to a second camp, outside of our borders. The Church... it was worse there," she concluded darkly. But for now she left it there. "Eventually there was an uprising. Many died, but not all of us. Some fled north to Hyoite, and I don't blame them. But many of us couldn't turn away from Connlaoth, what was still going on. So we headed south, back into Connlaoth."

She lapsed into silence. She knew she needed to leave the story there for now. She couldn't tell him about the years sabotaging army detachments. Even if they hadn't used magic. Even if she still felt justified in those actions. She'd been fighting for something she believed in, but, she realized with a clenching of her stomach, Vale could have been in one of those detachments.

So instead she asked, "How long do you think we could hide up here before they'd find us? Can we just stay?"

Worse?

If it was possible to feel cold on the inside while the outside was hot with rage than Valerian doing it. As she pulled herself closer, he closed his eyes and let her. For all their differences now, they'd shared something once and even though slivers of it remained after the few years they'd been apart he wanted to be a source of comfort for her.

Did she even have any other ones left?

When she changed the subject he didn't argue. Obviously it was painful to talk about and that was the end of the story for now. There was a dry chuckle when Olive asked if they could stay in the attic. "Can we stay?" His hand rubbed at her back and he went quiet as he gave it some thought, "Well, I'm sure we can stay as long as no one starts looking for you." He made a humming noise before closing his eyes for a moment, "We can stay until dawn, just... Like this. With the room being kinda stuffy and really dirty and I'm honestly a little afraid dust bunnies are gonna get us." He drew his fingers along Olive's side in a lame attempt to tickle her side when he spoke of the dust bunnies.

Now it was Olive's turn to give a dry laugh. "Until dawn?" she repeated, swatting away his wandering 'dust bunny' in a gesture that was half-heartedly playful. She shifted so that she was still stretched out next to him, but propped herself up with one elbow so she could look down at him. "That's a nice idea," she said, leaning forward to kiss him lightly, briefly, "but I don't think we can really get away with that long. There will already be people up and about by dawn. Someone would see you."

She reached out with the arm that wasn't propping her up to brush back his hair. She was trying not to think about what this would mean tomorrow, this mix of talking and kissing and laying together in the attic. Forget what it meant now.

Olive settled down a little, but kept her head propped up so she could look at him. "What about you, Vale? You didn't really say what happened to you. Or what your life has been like since. I can't just hear it from rumors the maids whisper to me."

The kiss caught him off guard, the one before had been pay back, he'd told himself. Something he'd been wanting to do since she'd done it to him all those years ago. Still, he smiled a little and licked his lips, looking down at hers for a moment before he stared into her eyes.  "Hm. True."

This was a lot of touching. Valerian hadn't come up here with the intentions of cuddling and touching and kisses. Part of him wanted more, he wanted to hold her in his arms and sleep. "Another hour?" He whispered, searching her eyes, propping himself up when she did too, leaning back on his elbows.  Of course, she wanted to know how he'd been and he instantly went quiet, his face fell and he looked away.

Then he looked down at his leg and frowned at it. "I've..." A deep breath, "Honestly I've been wallowing in self pity. I do what I need to do and then I drink myself to sleep," He rose an arm as if toasting to the ceiling before he let his arm drop down with a slap. "It's... Different. I..." There was a far away look in his eyes before he turned to look at Olive, "I've lost so little compared to you, but you're..." He gave a dry laugh, "You're way stronger than I am."

Valerian flopped back down, resting his hands on his chest again. "I'm a no-patience asshole, none of the maids will argue with you about that."

Olive watched Vale carefully as he readjusted - propping himself up and then plopping back down - and wondered vaguely if she'd been too forward with him. Too much contact; she shouldn't have kissed him (again), she told herself. Should she have? She wanted to. Truth be told, Olive wanted to blot out the pain and regret of the last years with physical intimacy. It was, she was sure, the easiest route. Well, the easiest route to feeling better now. The knowledge that they'd both feel worse later stayed her. But the urge was still there. She just wanted to make him feel better.

But instead, she listened, staying propped up on one elbow. "Don't say that," she told him when he was done, frowning at him. "A lot has happened to both of us, but not the same things, Vale. There's no point in comparing who has lost more or less, who has dealt with it better or worse. I think a lot of it is just circumstance. I can't promise that I wouldn't have done the same as you if I'd been sent back here instead of being made to live as a fugitive."

Who knew, if she was stuck here for ages, she might still. It was only the stories from the maids about Valerian's propensity for drinking that had stopped her from bringing up a bottle of something. Otherwise she would have without even thinking about it.

She let out an exhale, then shot him a look. With her free hand, she tapped his nose reprimandingly. "I don't believe you're a 'no-patience asshole,' though. That's not all the maids say about you, anyway," she added, a sly smile appearing on her face. "Some of them think you're quite handsome, you know!"

There was a gentle smile from him and Valerian looked away for a moment. To him, there wasn't much of a difference. Bad stuff was going to always be bad stuff and you either dealt with it or wallowed in it. Obviously, Valerian had chosen to ignore his problems and simply wallow in them. Still, he smiled at Olive all the same and nodded but let out a startled laugh when she tapped his nose. Really. They were going that route.

In one swift movement he hand his hand on Olive's waist and he pushed her over slightly, tucking his arm under her head and leaning over her. There he held her, a devilish grin on his face before he planted a kiss on her lips and leaned back. "And you? Do you think I'm handsome?"

Olive gave a squeak of surprise when her over, reversing their positions, and - before she could do anything to protest it - kissed her. It felt odd, being in his arms like this - not necessarily bad odd. But she couldn't help but think they were acting like teenagers; not their teenaged-selves, just... teenagers. Cautiously, and a little awkwardly, pushing things forward, then retreating, then testing the waters again. She gave a slightly nervous laugh.

"Oh, I wouldn't know," she grinned at him. "I'm a witch, after all. And everyone knows witches only take the black-furred beasts of the forests as their lovers - bears and wolves and such - in their unholy rituals. Haven't you heard that? I thought it was a well-known fact."

Flirting awkwardly skirted around, Olive pushed herself up a little. She looked at Vale, asking herself the same question he had. But realized she'd never be able to think objectively about something like whether or not he was handsome. He was Vale; his features were full of too much more meaning than 'handsome.'

Part of her wanted to kiss him again, just... reassuringly, if nothing else. (Though it wasn't 'nothing else'; Olive knew that.) She just wanted him to feel better than he seemed to. Happier. In general, and with himself. If he had a purpose... Then an idea struck Olive. Before she could think about whether or not it was a good one, she pushed herself up a little more and looked at Vale seriously. "Vale, you said... You don't seem very happy, with what you're doing now. Would you want to do something... different, than just drinking away your pain?"

The look Olive got when she claimed to have taken black-furred beasts as lovers was, well, comical. For a moment he stared at her like she was telling the truth before he realized she was joking. Then his head went down, pressing against her collar and he lifted it back up quickly. "I thought you were serious for a second! I mean..." He took a breath and gave her a side eyed look, "You ever get that lonely, you know where I am, yeah?" Valerian teased, giving her another chaste kiss on the forehead, though he didn't let go of her.

Curiously he tilted his head and looked at Olive, moving to tuck some loose strands of hair behind her ear. "Different? Like what, Colive?"

The weight of his head against her collarbone was distracting Olive from what she'd decided to ask him. Something about it felt more intimate than even the kissing had, and part of her wanted to pull him against her. Instead she pushed the urge aside, looking up candidly at him.

"I think you could help me, after all. I guess it's cheeky to ask you to after you offered so many times and I kept declining, but..." How much, she realized, should she tell him? The idea to ask him had come so suddenly. But could she really tell him what they were doing? His words from earlier in the day rang in her memory: 'I'm not on their side. I'm on your side. No, for now she could only ask for his help. For her. So she just finished, a little lamely, "But you'd be doing good."

"Doing good?" Valerian tilted his head at her, pursing his lips and looking away after a moment. Still, he didn't move away and kept her in his arms while he tried to puzzle out what she wanted to ask him. Better not be trying to hook him up with a maid or something. A few months of trying to lose himself in other people had ended badly and mostly left him more bitter to other people. "You know I'd do anything for you," his tone turned serious and he leaned his head away a little, "What's up?"

"You... you could help me with something." Olive was already second guessing herself. How could she expect him to do anything if she couldn't - or wouldn't? - tell him what the cause was?

Because he said he'd do anything for her. And she believed him. But was it right to ask him?

Olive looked at him and bit her lip. "I can't tell you all of it right now. But, I need someone to make a delivery," she said carefully. "Just into town," she added quickly, before he thought she'd have him schlepping half way across Wulfbauer.

It all sounded completely legitimate to Valerian. Under house arrest, she couldn't exactly go and deliver stuff herself. "Just into town?" He repeated, tilting his head at her, looking at her curiously. What was she up to? Obviously this was no plain old package. Then he looked her over and he slowly loosened his grip around her, "Is it for a lover or something? 'cause that might be a little awkward."

That got a laugh from Olive. "No, it's nothing like that. I don't have any lovers to sneak anything out to," she said, giving him a bit of a teasing look. "I won't be making you go make deliveries to black-furred bears or wolves, if that's what you're worried about."

She scrunched her nose at him, then turning serious again, said, "But, honestly, I can't tell you much more. It's better if you don't know."

Valerian wrinkled his nose at Olive and traced his fingers along her side in retaliation. Another dust bunny attack. Frowning at her for a moment he pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose and pressed his forehead to hers for a moment, his eyes closed before he pulled away.  " I guess it's important," He said softly, trying to search her eyes for more information.

Though, he'd never been good at reading people and simply nodded, "I'm your guy, Colive." Valerian smiled, "Gimmie the goods and I'll get them to where they're going."

Olive squirmed a little in response to his 'dust bunny attack.' Just a little; and more for his benefit than anything. "Don't call me 'Colive,'" she said, pulling a face, "that's even worse than 'Conny.'" She said it maybe to distract herself from the intimacy in the attic: the kiss on the nose, his forehead pressed against hers.

It was wrong to ask him to do something risky for her. Because she understood, she thought, why he would do it. She almost just told him to forget it. But what choice, she tried to convince herself, did she have? Normally Bairn would have gone; but tomorrow he was unable. Other duties occupied him, and dropping them would look suspicious. And word from the outside suggested that the delivery was urgent. It might not be right, exactly, to ask his of Vale, but what was the alternative?

"Hold on a moment," she said, brushing back a lock of his hair. "I'll be right back."

Olive extracted herself from his arms, pulling herself to her feet. She glanced at him briefly, then took her lone candle and disappeared in the dark of the abbey. The light of the candle in the distance dark of the attic preceded her return ten minutes later or so. She carried with her a small-ish leather satchel, clasped shut with a buckle. Normally, Astrid would take the satchel to Bairn, who would deliver it. But she didn't want Astrid's involvement known. She wasn't only being secretive with Vale because she was unsure what he would think of the cause of the task, if he knew it. But because the less everyone knew, the less would be revealed in case of anyone being caught. She sat across from Vale, legs akimbo, still holding the satchel in her lap for a moment.

"You know Bailey's pub?" she asked him once she settled back down. To say that Bailey's pub was 'in town' was a slight exaggeration. The place was seedy, dodgy, and rather run-down and was situated on the furthest outskirts of the town. Close to the highways that ferried all sorts of people from here to there. "You just need to go there with it. Tomorrow night. Don't look for anyone. Just order a drink and wait. You'll be approached," she explained. But it was clear from her face that giving him these instructions troubled her. "They'll offer to buy you a drink. Accept. Then you should say something about the weather; whatever you like. They'll say what a relief it is after the long winter, and how happy they are to see the blue forget-me-knots blooming again. Then you'll know it's the right person. Talk for however long suits you and when you've finished your drink, leave, but leave the bag behind. That's all."

She frowned, still holding onto the bag. "But before I give it to you, you have to promise that if anyone else catches you with it and questions you, that if you're on the verge of being in trouble, you'll tell them exactly how you got it. That I gave it to you, that you don't know what's in it or who you were meant to deliver it to. That you did it for me." She paused, then with a shadow of a sly smile added, "You can say that I used an emotional advantage."

Valerian sat in the attic and felt... Well.

Stupid.

He pushed his hands through his hair and sighed, maybe this was good. Maybe she'd run away? Valerian put his palms to his eyes and sighed, ducking his head down. Five minutes passed and he knew she said she'd be right back, but five minutes felt like forever and by the time she was back, Valerian had given up.

His head shot up and he blinked at her owlishly. She was back. With a thing! He watched her and frowned at the bag. When asked if he knew Bailey's pub he gave a nod, made a bit of a face but remained quiet. Been there once or twice, it was kinda a dive. While she told him what to do he nodded along and filed away the information for later.

Whatever was in that bag was probably important. Though her last words caught him off guard and he just sort of smiled at her, "Got it. I can do all those things," Except for sell her out but... She didn't need to know that. "Does it count as using an emotional advantage when I already asked if i could help you?"

"Vale." She looked at him levelly, still holding firmly onto the bag. "You didn't promise. I'm serious."

Normally she wouldn't try to extract such a promise from someone. Normally each link in the chain, as it were, promised only to stay silent. And the less they knew about the bigger picture, everyone involved, the less they would admit if forced to talk. But Olive wanted the promise from Vale. Because whatever he thought, she did feel like she was taking advantage of him. 'I'm not on their side. I'm on your side.' Astrid and Bairn had been acting of their own free will, knowing who they were helping, if not all the details. But Vale wasn't; he was doing it for her. And she wanted to protect him.

"Please."

A weary look was given to the bag and then Olive and he just stared at her for a moment before giving a simple nod. "Okay, I promise." Then he frowned and gave her another look, "So this is a pretty serious thing then." He looked at the bag and then back at her, lifting an eyebrow, "You sure it isn't love letters?"

Olive mustered a small, but genuine, smile. "Thanks, Vale."

She hesitated for a moment, then handed the satchel over to him. It wasn't overly heavy, but heavier than a bag full of 'love letters.' In truth, it was a mix of money and jewelry - her own that she had excavated from the possessions in her old room. Once Vale handed it over in the pub, it would be passed on to smugglers to pay for the safe passage of a very particular kind of cargo. Getting anything safely all the way to the Serendipity border was expensive in these times of war. But she didn't say that to Vale.

Instead she made a face at him, crinkling her nose. "It's not love letters, for the last time. I haven't had anyone to write 'love letters' to for years. And anyway," she gave him a teasing smile, "wolves and bears can't read. Plus how would they open letters with their paws?"

To compliment that, and maybe to bring some levity back into the attic, she did a passable impersonation of a pawed animal trying clumsily to open a letter.

Valerian made a point of pouting, "You could have written me love letters,"  his tone teasing but he slowly smiled and watched her imitate an animal. There was no laugh, but he did grin and look at her oddly. "I think I hear all your Lady Training crying out in anguish over that display." His hands went to his hair and he covered his mouth when he yawned loudly, looking down at the bag.

"When did you want this delivered again?" He gave Olive a sleepy look and tried to smile again, then paused, "Why would someone ask about me carrying a bag anyway? I'm not that suspicious looking, am I?"

"I don't need to write you," Olive answered, ending her antics and scooting a little closer to Vale. "I have you right here." She canted her head to the side and smiled at him. Then she gave a little huff, reality seeping in a little. "Not that I was ever able to write letters, anyway. They didn't give us stacks of parchment or encourage us to write home about what a 'great time' we were having, after all."

She looked him over. "Tomorrow," she answered, "after dinner. And you never know, these days, who will stop you. But I guess you're not as scruffy and wild looking as us. Well," she glance down at herself. Even in pajamas, she looked far more 'elegant' than she had in the previous years. "Well, maybe I'm not quite as scruffy anymore. Still scruffier than all my 'Lady Training' would like."

Slowly Valerian ran his hand over his chin, rubbing at the light stubble and tried to smile at her, "I know. I was trying to tease you about the letters, I'm sorry. I..." Another smile and he winced at her apologetically, "I don't really think before I talk." Still he smiled and when she looked down at herself, he did too, giving a nod of approval.

"Nah, you don't look scruffy at all," He eyed her for a moment before placing the bag on his lap and crossing his arms over his chest, "In fact, I don't I've seen you looking so nice since we wore mud." Valerian made a point of tossing hair over his shoulder - which didn't work because while his wasn't exactly short, it wasn't long enough to be tossed over his shoulder. Another glance down at the bag.

Tomorrow after dinner. Bailey's Pub. The weather. Accept a drink. Blue forget-me-nots. There was a level look at Olive and he pressed his hand over the top of it, for all it was worth, he wasn't curious as to what was inside. He just didn't want to fail her. "It's getting late, Olive," He said softly, "You should probably go to bed."

"Tch. Not if you listen to what Grace has to say about it," she replied with a little laugh. She let the comments about the letters aside. They hadn't upset her, and they'd done plenty of apologizing to each other already tonight. So instead she continued, "She was nice about it at first. Felt sorry for me, I guess. But she's already dropping hints, just here and there, about how skinny I am. Some things really don't ever change!"

She smiled faintly, thinking of how doggedly Grace had reprimanded her appearance as a teenager. As though she could help being the twiggy thing she'd turned out to be! In this case, though, Grace might be right: like everyone else forced to live off the land over the long winter, she'd lost more weight than she probably ought to have.

She gave a little huff, then scooted closer to Valerian again. She cast him a sideways look. "I guess I should. You should, too," she added pointedly. "I'd rather stay here, though. I hate sleeping alone now. I almost never did before coming back here. Not like that," she added hastily, realizing how it might sound. Well, not usually like that. "But, you know, there were more mages than cabins or beds in the camps," she said, "or after... at least sharing a campsite with someone. You know? I don't think I'd be able to sleep at all if your dad hadn't sent me Kipper." The little puppy that had been smuggled to her from the stables. "But right now I'd rather stay with you."

Valerian couldn't stand to sleep with anyone.

He had to give a quiet laugh at the difference. "Kipper?" He rose an eyebrow, "Was that the puppy that went missing?" Valerians eyes lit up and he smiled, "You have him? Thank God. I thought he got out and got eaten by wolves! I was so sad." He moved a hand to his chest over his heart like this was the best news he'd ever gotten. Then his hand moved up to his mouth and he yawned again.

"Alright, Olive." He gave a stretch and laid down on the ground again, looking up at the ceiling. "Did you want to play a game or something? How about I, Spy." He paused for a moment, "I spy... With my little eye... Something that is... Wood."

"Yeah, Grace smuggled him up to me. Funny little runt. But he's made all the difference. I spent all my days drowsing and miserable and..."

She stopped when he suggested playing a game. And such a childhood game. And at what he spied.

Olive suppressed a snort of laughter at that, her eyes flicking immediately down to his... Well. She looked quickly away, still trying to suppress her grin. Her eyes turned up to the roof of the attic.

"Oh, um, ahem," she cleared her throat, coughing back another laugh. "All these rafters?

Ooooh. He caught that.

the split second he looked do her he saw that. "Miss. Olive!" Valerian gasped out after she'd said her guess - which was correct. "I'm a gentleman, I'll have you know! Besides, if I was going to spy my penis.. I'd have just said penis. We've known one another long enough to say those words. Also yes, it was the rafters." A squinty look was given to her and he smirked, "Your turn!"

"A gentleman doesn't say 'penis' to a lady," Olive countered, sticking her tongue out at him. "Anyway, that's not even how the game works. You have to use an adjective. You can't say, 'I spy something penis.' That would be like, 'I spy something rafters.'"

She looked at him and frowned. "I can't believe you're not even blushing. My little Vale. All grown up."

Valerian gave out a barking laugh, quickly slapping his hand over his mouth to quiet it. Did things echo out when they were in the attic? He couldn't remember. "If I had been talking about my stuff I would have just said hard, not wood." A roll of his eyes, because obviously that was just so obvious. Finally he looked back at her and frowned, "I was trying to make you blush. It didn't work. Anyway, your turn. What does your little eye spy?"

"Hm." Olive's eyes flicked downward again, as if looking to see if hard was the right adjective or not. Well, maybe not 'as if.' "Seems nobody blushes easily enough anymore," she observed with a little grin.

She huffed a little sigh, resigning to play the game instead of embarrassing her friend. "I spy with my little eye..." she searched the darkness, then huffed. "Oh, fuck all in this pitch black attic. Two not so little kiddies who are going to be in big trouble if they're not in their beds by dawn?"

Valerian gasped and pointed at her, "You swore." His hand went to his mouth in mock horror and he looked around quickly, reaching over to hold her head, "What if Grace heard! Also, my guess is you. I'm an adult. I can do whatever I like as long as I get my work done the next day." Another stretch and he sighed, letting go of Olive's head and having his arms drop to his sides, "Off to snuggle Kipper then?"

"Oh no, what will I do?" Olive said dryly, rolling her eyes at the 'what if Grace catches you' comment. "Yeah," she agreed, "off to snuggle puppy-breath. Almost, anyway."

She fixed him with a look, then. A look he'd probably recognize. A very up-to-no-good look. The action that followed would probably be one that she'd regret later, she even realized that in the moment, but just then, she didn't really care. Patience wasn't one of Olive's strongest virtues, and the awkward tension in the attic was just too much for her to just walk away from.  So out of nowhere, she pounced Vale. And as soon as his back hit the floor, her lips were on his, kissing him hard and with need.

While, downstairs, poor Kipper was curled up sleeping alone!

That look.

That was her up-to-no-good look and Valerian was about to hold up his hands to ward her off but then he was pounced on. Actually pounced on. Caught off guard he could do little more than submit (really, it was the only option!) and just as she kissed him, he kissed her back. Pushing up against her, his hands moving to hold her ass and pull her against him. A gentle bite at her lip and he pulled away for a second, speaking hotly against neck, "You keep this up and you're gonna be spyin' something hard." Valerian pressed a hot kiss to the crook of her neck, moving up to below her ear and finally, gave her another heated kiss.

Screw snuggling puppy-breath, Olive should just snuggle him.

Oh dear. This plan might be back firing. Olive had thought she could just catch him off-guard, give him one more proper kiss, then waltz away feeling smugly pleased with herself for getting the better of him. But as his hands moved down to her ass, pulling her hips against his, she was beginning to seriously doubt her resolve on the matter. This wasn't the shy, blushing Vale she'd been counting on! Just who was getting the better of whom here?

Oh dear, indeed.

All of her bedroom-bound momentum was rapidly evaporating, and she found herself pushing back into him, kissing him hotly. The voice in her head that said she should really get out of there before it was too late getting fainter and fainter.

Valerians hands didn't move from her ass, pressing her against him. This was just about everything his little teenage mind had imagined, location and everything. Now though? Giving her a lingering kiss and moved his hands up her back, letting them rest on his waist. This was Olive. She was hurt. She was lost. Sure she was back home, but she was a prisoner and on some small level, he felt like he was taking advantage of her.

No longer was he the blushing little boy but never could he be driven so hard by teenage emotions as the man he had grown up to be. A few soft kisses and he rubbed up and down her sides, pulling away after a moment but making a point of keeping her as close, his hands went to her hair and he brushed his thumbs over her cheek bones. "Conny, is this really what you want?" His eyes searched hers and he watched carefully, for hesitation, for second guessing.

Of course Valerian didn't want to see any of that but he knew she was as scarred on the inside as he was on the outside.

"Yes," she answered almost immediately, and it was true. But it was clear as soon as she said it that a 'but' was going to follow.

She stared down at him in silence for a long, long moment, her heart pounding loudly and her breath hard. It was what she wanted. She didn't second-guess that. And if they hadn't paused, Olive had little doubt that it would have been what would have happened. But the careful, constrained concern on his face... Suddenly Olive felt flooded with conflicting emotions. It had been a long time since she'd been with someone she cared about. Someone who had cared about her. And just as quickly as the heat of the moment had taken her, Olive felt sick, and terribly sad. But in that moment, she'd stopped thinking of Vale. She was thinking of Lorent, who had looked at her like that, and who had been hewn apart while Olive was...

In a sudden burst of awkward motion, Olive scurried to her feet, face white. She ran a hand through her hair, looking down at poor Valerian prone on the attic floor.

"I'm sorry, Vale," was all she said before she hastily grabbed her candle and hurried into the darkness of the attic, towards her room, before the tears that she knew were coming arrived. Leaving Vale alone with his lantern in the dark, and the leather satchel.

Valerian stayed in the attic a while after, his hands resting on his stomach while he stared up at the rafters and let his body calm down. Finally, he sat up and pushed his hands through his hair, taking a deep breath and letting it out loudly. The occasional chirp of the super early birds was the second loudest noise besides his occasional sigh. Obviously she hadn't really wanted that to happen.

The sorry made it seem like it had been planned though, like she was taking away something he'd been desperately trying to grasp and he felt bad about it. Finally, he took his lantern and made his way back to his home, the satchel over his shoulder which he carefully tucked under his bed when he finally snuck his way back into the house. Despite the way the night ended, sneaking back into the house made him smile, made him feel like a kid again.

Valerian didn't sleep. Concern about Olive kept him away. The delivery of the satchel and the details kept him awake.

At least, he didn't think he slept. If anything he fell asleep eventually and perhaps slept for a bit too long. He'd blame alcohol when he woke up.

Olive had thrown herself into her bed as soon as she’d gotten back to her room, racked by silent sobs. The wave of memories hitting her hard. And not just remembering, but feeling like she felt then. The physical feeling of loss. She had thought of the captain often in the intervening years since his death, but she hadn’t felt it like that. Something about the setting; something about that look. She wished he hadn’t stopped to ask. She wished she had held it together, just said, ‘yes.’ She wished she hadn’t scampered away like a frightened teenager.

The next day Olive didn’t dare go downstairs; not to the kitchen or storerooms or anywhere she might conceivably run into Vale. She was too deeply embarrassed. Embarrassed at how she had acted; calling him up there, teasing him, flirting with him, setting something in motion only to run away from it like a skittish little girl. She wasn’t a little girl, a blushing virgin in too deep; she was an adult woman. She knew for herself what she wanted or didn’t. She could handle herself. It wasn’t like she’d run away because she was embarrassed about sex or something. So why had she acted like it? And that got to the deeper root of her embarrassment. Above all things, she thought, Olive hated being treated as a victim. Being seen as a victim. Some fragile, broken thing that needed to be tread lightly around in case she snapped. And she got a lot of that since she came back. In her eyes, she wasn’t a victim; she was ten times stronger now than she had been before she’d been taken away. She could challenge armed soldiers; she could keep her mouth shut during a beating; she could even pull a trigger and end a man’s life. She was not a victim. She wasn’t. But look what happened; one momentary look had triggered the wrong memory and she’d acted just like one. Running away to cry in her room. That, more than anything, was what left her embarrassed. No, ashamed.

So Olive spent the day harried and distracted, keeping her nose in books, playing with the puppy, evasively answering Grace’s questions about ‘what had gotten into her.’ Nothing, she wanted to say, that’s the problem. And when the day finally petered out and dusk began to creep up from the horizon, Olive bit her lip and looked out the window. Hoping fervently that Vale wouldn’t change his mind.

---

Constance wasn’t the only one wondering about the delivery. In the back of Bailey’s pub - a dingy, smokey, dark rundown dive of a place - Silas Greene (http://www.spiritsoftheearth.net/smf/index.php?topic=15781.new#new) waited, his keen bluegrey eyes keeping careful tabs on the comings and goings of the tavern. Waiting for his man. He puffed smoke from a long, wooden pipe. A mostly finished beer on the dinky table in front of him. Reflecting on how, once upon a time, this is the last place anyone would have found him. Now he fit right in.

There were a few times that day that Valerian had stopped what he was doing to yawn widely or stare off into space. It wasn't because he was tired...

Okay it was because he was tired.

There was also the speed at which Olive had left the attic. Despite there having been few and far fights between them, Valerian could recognize the look, the need to get away before everything broke into pieces and it hurt his chest that he had been the cause of it. Maybe not the cause, the straw that broke the camels back. One simple phrase to make sure he was what she truely wanted and she'd just about broken down.

Part of him wasn't sure if he should have been insulted, the other part just wanted her to feel better. Not getting any from a girl he'd fancied for years wasn't a big deal, Olive feeling sad or hurt was a huge deal.

Finally, the work day was done and Valerian had found himself taking a nap in the afternoon. The day melted to dusk and there he found himself, outside the pub trying to look nonchalant with the satchel over his shoulder. What had she instructed him to do? Valerian entered the pub and frowned slightly at the instructions.

Order a drink and wait.

Valerian made his way to a table, frowning at it, placing the satchel on back of his chair. A barmaid came by, there was an appropriate amount of boob looking and then he ordered his drink. Now he just had to wait. Waiting would be the worst. Talk about the weather. Something about forget-me-nots. Make it look convincing. He could do that.

Silas watched the young man enter. He was almost immediately sure it was 'his man,' so to speak. Birds and bees weren't the most reliable conveyors of information, but the 'thump thump thump' of the man's gait seemed like pretty clear evidence this was the 'tree leg' he was looking for. Silas kept his seat for the time-being, though, observing the man. He waited until Valerian was mostly done with his drink - finishing his own beer in the meantime - before tapping out the pipe and creaking up from his seat.

"Bad luck to drink alone, kid," he said by way of a greeting, pulling out the chair opposite of Valerian and, without invitation, sitting down. "Here, next drink's on me if."

Silas flagged down the barmaid, ordering two more beers. The man had a general ragged look to him, older than his years. He was nearly as tall as Valerian, but much less solid. His blonde hair and the rough stubble on his face was half-gray, and the his high cheekbones, which had once made him handsome, only served to accentuate his hollow features. Only his eyes remained bright, alive, and keen.

Keep calm.

Keep cool.

Valerian offered the stranger a smile and nodded, "I heard that it's bad luck but," he gave a shrug and grew silent after a few moments. What's the weather been like. How would he seamlessly work that into a conversation before the moment passed, which it had. Gratefully he accepted the beer and he took a deep chug, "Ever notice how beer tastes better after a long day of hard work in all this gorgeous sunny weather?" The look the man got was a little intense for regular conversation and Valerian put the mug back on the table after a moment, his features slowly melting into a polite smile.

Silas gave a gruff snort of a laugh at Valerian's comment. The poor kid was really sweating it. He wondered where Olive found him.

"I never needed a sunny day to enjoy a beer," he commented, "but I can't deny it's nice to actually see the sun and the blue forget-me-nots after the winter we've had."

Silas leaned back in the chair, studying Valerian. He couldn't help but notice the resemblance to the man he normally met with, but he wouldn't comment on it. Silas knew not to reveal things like that. They would, of course, have to talk longer than the code words required or it'd seem odd. Odder than the young man was already acting. Though maybe he was, too, Silas thought. Hard to tell. Maybe he'd be more natural, he thought, on a less code-wordy topic. If a vague one.

He nodded to Valerian, his next sentence coming off somewhere between a statement and a question. "You're a friend of hers, then."

After all, if anything was normal, it was two men talking about a woman in a bar. And, if he admitted it, Silas was curious. Birds and beasts could only relay the information they thought was pertinent, what they noticed. And that was often sorely different from what a human did.

A friend of hers.

Valerian instantly relaxed and he gave a sheepish smile, taking another drink. "Yeah, we've been friends forever." Since before girls didn't have cooties anymore. He tried not to dwell on the night before, would they still be friends after that? How did this guy know her.

Maybe she was writing love letters.

"So all these love letters are for you then?" Valerian gave the man an up and down look, "She kept telling me they were but..."

Silas gave a dry chuckle at the Vale's question. He was glad, anyway, to see the man relax a bit.

"I'm just passing them on," he corrected, pulling a package of tobacco out of his ragged old overcoat and packing the pipe. He wondered if the young man knew what was in the satchel or not. But he'd rather steer the conversation away from the fact that there was a satchel at all.

"Forever?" he repeated, giving Vale another good look. He believed that the boy could be the same age as Constance. A servant from the house, probably. The other man never actually saw her, and the birds couldn't tell Silas what he wanted to know. "Tell me. Is she happy now? There?"

Valerian wrinkled his nose at the idea of love letters being passed on but he had to remember, it was too heavy to be love letters. Also this was a secret. Don't talk about the love letters.

"Forever." Valerian confirmed, feeling somewhat possessive. Frowning slightly at the question Valerian looked off to the side and gave a sigh, pulling his cup forward. For a moment he looked tired and lost and he just tried to smile. "She's safe?" His voice was hushed.

She was safe.

At least there was that.

'She's safe.'

Silas understood what that meant: No. Or maybe that he didn't know.

"Hm," he frowned, lighting the pipe. He took a breath, blowing out smoke. He wanted to say that no mage was 'safe' now; not even Constance. But of course he couldn't say that. She was safe, perhaps, for as long as she was useful to the duke. But safety wasn't everything. Both Silas and Constance could have fled to safety, away from Connlaoth to Hyoite. Neither had. Because there were more important things to both of them than safety. He took another long puff on the pipe.

"I hope you're right," he finally said. "I'm glad she has a friend there."

Frowning slightly Valerian folded his arms over his chest.

"She's always had friends there."

Though, had that mattered when she was in the camps? Had that mattered when she was on the run? Valerian felt a pang in his chest and he let out a careful breath. He hadn't been expecting anyone to know Conny. Hadn't been expecting anyone to question about how she was doing. Still, he had to wait for the forget-me-nots before he could leave.

As much as Valerian wanted to ask the man what his favourite flower was, it seemed a little too obvious and he just finished his drink and sat back, closing his eyes briefly. "I want her to be happy," Valerian smiled and sat back up, "But I'm really good at screwing it up, y'know?"

[[Derp. I said the wrong flower before. (But now I fixed it!) Vale can leave whenever he wants. D:]]

That got Silas's attention. He raised his eyebrows at the young man, but didn't immediately respond. It sounded, he thought, like a bit of a confession. For another long moment he just puffed at the pipe, studying Valerian.

"Most young men are," he observed. "I was, when I was younger." Silas took another puff of the pipe. All this talk of love letters. Wanting her to be happy. He wondered if the young man realized how obvious he was. But not, this time, about the satchel. About the girl.

"Do me a favor, though," he said, not really asking for him to. He thought a moment about the best way to phrase the information he needed to get across. Nothing that would make this man too suspicious of what was really going on. Taking a cue from the 'love letters,' he said, "Tell her I send my love. And that I'll be thinking of her the night after tomorrow. She'll know why."

It took Valerian a moment to realize he was treating this perfect stranger like some sort of confidant simply because he'd asked about Olive. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He gave a laugh and knocked on his mug, it was empty and he was tempted to stay longer. Have a few more drinks.

No, there was a task to be done and leaving was part of that job. "I should... Probably go and be really good at screwing up." Valerian gave a tired smile and stood up and out of his chair, for a second his hand hovered over the back of it before he remembered to leave it there, instead he moved it into a yawn, pushing his hands above his head, "It was nice meeting you, thanks for the drink." Another smile, a small wave over his shoulder and he meandered his way out of the pub.

The first thing he did was let out a calm breath and squeeze his eyes side.

Now to go back home.

Was he supposed to go to the attic?

Valerian chewed on his lip while he made his way home, pondering if he should. Conny wouldn't come up, but... Maybe... If she did? He'd found his heart racing more heavily than when he was on his way to drop off the satchel, the idea of going home.

Without really thinking about it, he'd found himself up in the attic, laying on the floor in the darkness with his eyes closed.

Olive had situated herself in the library under the guise of reading, staying up late to read more about hops production and trading. No one really questioned her if she said she couldn't sleep. Though she certainly was tired now. The real reason, of course, that she was in the library was because it afforded the best view of the stables. She was hoping to sight Vale returning. Then maybe she should catch him... Well, she couldn't go down to the stables, or out to the stables, more accurately. But maybe in a storeroom? Annoyed with herself, she realized that she should have arranged somewhere to meet him tonight. Sending Vale had disrupted the normal chain of communication. Normally Bairn told Astrid, and Astrid told her, and vice versa.

She wanted to meet him in a store room or somewhere because, well, if it wasn't exactly public, it was certainly less intimate than the attic. She did not want to meet him there. What would she even say to him? Did she have to say anything about the previous night at all? She was wondering this when she caught sight of him returning, but he wasn't going to the stables, he was headed for the door that lead... Well, fuck.

Carefully, feeling as though she was shaking (maybe she was!), she put down the book and took the lamp she'd been reading by from the library. She walked silently through the hallway to her room, saying 'good night' to a maid she passed, and before she knew it she, too, was in the attic. She paused for a long time at the entrance in her room, then, figuring she couldn't put it off forever, hauled herself up and made her way towards where she knew Vale would be waiting.

She simply sat down, a little further away from him than she had the previous night, and set down the lantern. "Hi, Vale," was all she could manage to get out.

The last thing he'd been expecting was Olive. Conny. Which ever.

So when she plopped down beside him Valerian gave a quiet yelp, shot up and pressed a hand over his heart. "Oh my God." He stared at her like she grew six heads, "Don't do that! I was half asleep!" He rubbed at his eyes and leaned forward, one hand on the ground the other still pressed to his beating heart. A few careful breaths later he just rubbed at his chest and tried to calm down. The nerves from before being mixed with the startle now.

Slowly he sat up and crossed his arms over his chest, giving Olive a long look. "He says he sends his love and he'll be thinking of you the night after tomorrow. Said you'll know why." Valerian gave her a long look up and down, "Is that code for something?"

Olive put on the smallest of smiles at Vale's antics. Well, at least she'd managed to get the better of him once. She sat tense, uncertain, as he scolded her and caught his breath and calmed down. She should probably apologize for startling him, but she didn't. She just waited, watching him expectantly.

And when he said the words that confirmed he had seen Silas, and delivered the satchel to him, she visibly relaxed, shoulders sagging and releasing a long exhale. "Thank God," she muttered to herself. She had never tried to smuggle out so much money, coin or otherwise, before. At least it made it that far. And. The night after tomorrow. That caused a flicker of recognition on Olive's face; she clearly understood what it meant. The night after tomorrow. That was soon, but... that should be fine. That should work. Then, to Vale, she said, "Thank you."

She ignored Vale's question and instead asked, "How did he look?" They'd all been in such a terrible state the last time she'd seen any of them, after starving through the winter. They'd had to pad Olive's dress when she snuck into the ball just so she could fill it out. And Silas had been plagued by a persistent illness that winter. She hated being here, relatively safe and fed and clean and looked after, knowing they were all still out there. It didn't occur to her that, to Vale, it might sound very much like those had been love letters, after all.

"You're welcome."

How did he look? Valerian blinked at her and he felt his heart sink a little. Maybe it was a friend? Unless Olive was into much older men. Maybe all those years on the run had her appreciate furry old men better. Still, first and foremost Valerian was her friend and if being with a furry old man made her happy, so be it. He'd survive. "He looked... Old." Valerian looked away after a moment, "sort of.. Dried out and tired, I guess."

Shifting slightly towards her he tilted his head, "Olive, you know I'm not stupid right?"

Olive nodded, frowning. For a moment she looked quiet, sad, then in a sudden outburst she kicked at one of the boxes that made up their ersatz furniture in the attic.

"Erg, I hate being here. I hate being kept guarded and fed and clean and looked after and warm and... Never worrying about food, never worrying about getting caught or killed or having to... When everyone is still out there, with all of those worries. I just can't... Ugh," she kicked the box again. Olive rubbed her face, frustrated, and was silent for a long moment before realizing Vale had said something else.

"What?" she asked, the fit over. She blinked. "What do you mean, you're not stupid?"

Frowning at her, Valerian simply kept his head down and listened to her rant. She hated it here. Hated being kept safe. Fed. Warm. "So what, you think if you were starving and miserable and cold you'd... What. Feel better? Be able to do more for them?" He pushed his hands through his hair and sighed and shook his head, angry at her.

Angry at her being angry about being... Safe. It confused him and he frowned her, "That man. He was a mage, wasn't he? Don't lie to me, Conny. Your angry little outburst confirmed it far better than any old 'yes'."

"Yes, I would 'feel better,'" she snapped back at him, her anger that had briefly subsided flaring back up. What the fuck did he know.

"You have no idea what it's like," she continued, knowing on some level she should shut up, but unable or unwilling to. 'Angry little outburst.' Like she was a child. "You don't know what it's like, being treated like... like vermin to be eradicated. For years. Then only saved because, why? You think if I weren't 'Lady Constance Carwick' anyone would have looked at me twice before stringing me up to hang? You think all the people here who are 'so happy' to have me back would see me as anything other than another witch, another mage, another rat to be killed if I were anyone else?"

She stared at him, hard, anger burning in her eyes. At him, and at everything. "How do you think that feels? Getting everything you don't deserve more than anyone else, just because who your father was."

She didn't, in her rant, answer his question. She'd barely even heard it.

"Of course they wouldn't have! They wouldn't have given a fucking shit about you if you weren't Constance Carwick." Valerian hissed at her, angry. His hands fisted his hair and he took a deep breath, glaring at her for a moment. "You would be dead." The concept of that made him more angry and he felt his eyes burning because why couldn't she understand?

"That's the price you pay with your bloodline, Conny. You can throw it away and live in the forest to 'feel better' or you can do something worthwhile with it and feel like shit because you're getting the exact treatment your bloodline requires." His hands were again pushed through his hair and he squeezed his eyes shut, wanting to say more but knowing on some level, it would make her more angry.

"What the fuck do you think I'm trying to do?" she hissed back at him. "You're the one who offered to help me escape. What did I say? Did I say, 'Yes, please, help me run away into the forest?'"

She seethed at him. He even said himself she'd be dead if it weren't for her title. How could he be okay with that? She'd still be Olive. She'd still be a person, even if she weren't a lady. Who cared if just any-old-person hanged. And who was he to tell her 'what her bloodline requires.' She'd gone to the camps with no resistance, no complaint at all, because it was what she was expected to do. Fuck him.

"I haven't been 'Lady Constance Carwick' for years, Vale. Even in the camps when I still was, how much traction do you really think that got me? Getting beat less, raped not as much. I was nobody by the time I escaped. So, yeah, sorry if I feel a bit guilty for being pulled out of it now. But, yes, I am trying to 'do something worthwhile' now. And you're rich to tell anyone off for not just wallowing around feeling like shit."

She would feel bad about some of those words later. But in that moment, she wasn't thinking about it. She was angry, and lashing out.

An eerie feeling calm passed over him and he closed his eyes after a moment.  There were no words to make this better. Olive was furious and he didn't have a clue a to what was going on.

"Obviously I don't know what I'm talking about and I'll try to stop... Because I don't know and I can't help you. Not me. Not anymore." A quiet breath and he looked away for a moment, his cheeks were red with shame and he pressed a hand against his neck as if that would sooth how tense he was feeling.

None of the words she said were lost on him. Got beaten less. Raped not as much. Valerian was trying to cling to the remains of the girl he'd known and she wasn't there anymore. He knew that there was nothing he could do to bring her back. She'd been beaten and raped and starved and treated like vermin. 

"I'm sorry, I'll... Leave you alone. For what it's worth - and this will probably make you angry -" Valerian gave her a tired smile, "I love you and I'm sorry I can't... Do anything right. Your satchel got delivered, at least I got to do that for you, right? Emotional advantage and all that." There was a shrug and he made his way out of the attic to give Olive some space. So that she wouldn't have to listen to him talk about things he didn't know about anymore.

Angry.

Tired.

Mostly tired.

Maybe he'd snuggle a horse tonight instead of go to his room. Wake up smelling like hay.

Olive stared at Valerian with open-mouthed indignance. She was angrier than ever, but -

When he got up and started walking away, at first Olive just stared on in disbelief. Then she sprang to her feet. "Vale, wait - !"

She sprang after him in the dark, leaving her lantern behind. He might have a head start, but with two legs, Olive was still faster than him. Bounding through the dark, though, Olive half-tripped over some old crate as she was about to catch up with Vale. She kept herself from falling, just, and used the extra momentum to slam into him, pushing him roughly against the cramped wall of the attic.

Having him cuffed by the shirt, she glared fiercely up at him. Unaware, perhaps, of the ridiculousness of scrawny little Olive pushing the tall, strong stablehand around, however many legs they each had.

"How many times do I have to tell you," she hissed, panting a little from chasing after him, "I don't need help. Why can't you just... listen to me, or just... accept how I feel, without acting like I need you to fix me? I'm not broken. I don't need to be 'fixed,' by you or anyone else. I'm not the same person I was, but I'm still a person."

She released him with a huff, taking a step back away from him. But she still held his gaze, glaring hard at him, her eyes bright with challenge, but also, behind it, with hurt. Had he really been about to walk away from her? Did he really see her as so damaged now that he no longer wanted... what? Olive wasn't sure. But she felt angry, and defiant, and vulnerable.

Maybe.

Nope, he was caught.

Valerian let her pin him and he stood while she hissed at him. "What do you want from me then? A fast fuck? A hug? Just someone to talk to? If you don't want me helping you what can I do?" His hands were up, feeling helpless. "I don't want to fight anymore, Conny," The same tired look, "I'm sorry that I'm happy you are safe. I'm sorry I want to help you but... I don't know what to do. You're not the same person and I guess I don't know how to handle that. I keep looking for... For Conny. And you're Olive now."

A quick breath and he ducked his head down, staring down at the floor. "You're a strong person, you're... Amazing." His hands reached out as if to cup her face but he quickly let them fall to his side, worried that touching her would just have her brush his hands away. "I'm not trying to fix you, I'm... I just want you to be happy and there's nothing I can do for that."

Olive's expression tensed, and she nearly swore at him for the 'fast fuck' comment. That wasn't fair. But she finally had the presence of mind to bite her tongue. At least on that score.

"I don't want anything from you, Vale," she replied, her anger mixing with an imploring tone. "I just want... I just want you to be my friend. But you keep acting like I need to be saved or something, or - Even now, you can't imagine I would need anything from you except your 'help.' I don't even know what that means. I'm not a lost little girl who needs to be led home. I can't... You want me to just pretend to be happy for your benefit? Sometimes it's okay to not just be happy, and..."

She was floundering, rapidly losing track of whatever she was trying to say. She ran a hand through her hair, trying to collect herself again. Olive had visibly deflated and when she looked at him, she looked more vulnerable than fierce.

"Vale, I've always been Olive," she said quietly. Not saying that Conny was just something he'd made up. "But, I guess," she shifted awkwardly, folding her arms over her chest and glancing away. "I mean, fine. If I've changed too much for you, then, well, okay. I can't force you to feel differently, so..."

What was she trying to say? She wasn't sure anymore. She bit her lip, feeling suddenly very self-conscious. Not sure what she was even waiting for.

She didn't want anything from him.

She just wanted him to be her friend.

A shaky breath and he gently put his hands on her shoulders. Olive was probably still too hot for a proper hug. "How I feel about you will never change. The last time I saw you you were brat that stole my first kiss. It's... There's a lot of difference between that little girl and the woman you are now. When I daydreamed about you it was that... Brat. You're not a brat anymore, you're an amazing woman. You're strong and stubborn and wonderful." He tried to give her a smile and he ducked his head down, closing his eyes.

"I'm ... Just saying in all the wrong ways that I'm here for you. For whatever you need. To talk, to cry on my shoulder, to... to throw mud at." Valerian dropped his hands and held them at his sides, "If you don't want my help, then just... Know that I don't think you're broken and wounded and needing to be fixed. I just... I'm just really good at saying all the wrong things."

Olive's shoulders sagged a little as she listened to him, still hugging her arms to her chest. And though she did have to fight the instinct to jerk away from his hands on her shoulders, if she could see herself, she would probably be embarrassed by how earnestly she was watching him. She also had to fight back her knee-jerk reaction to tell him again that he didn't know what sort of woman she was now; certainly not if she was 'amazing' or not. But she held it back. Realizing that this was, maybe, her turn to listen. To not fight with every feeling he declared.

But now that she wasn't arguing, she felt herself at a loss for words. She just looked at him for a long moment, expression uncertain and unguarded. Finally, instead of saying all the things she felt - that she forgave him, that she hoped he forgave her, that she loved him, too (though she was afraid to ask which way he'd really meant that) - she summarized it all by kicking at a dust bunny and giving him a furtive look.

"I wasn't a brat."

"You kissed me and I was left a bumbling fool mess," Valerian pointed out taking his hands away, feeling the tension there. Slowly his crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head, "clearly you were a brat." The tension was still there and again he ducked his head down to stare down at the ground.

Valerian put his hands to the back of his neck and turned to look up at the rafters. "I missed you," the words came out defeated and quiet followed by a long sigh.

Olive looked down at the dust bunny she'd kicked and, at his description of the event in question, actually smiled a little. An amused, self-satisfied smile. Clearly she still enjoyed the memory of taking him by surprise. Did that mean she was still a brat. "Yeah," she agreed, still looking at the dust bunny, but still trying not to smile, "that was pretty great."

At his long sigh and defeated exclamation, Olive glanced up at him again. She waited a beat, then practically flung herself at him before realizing what she was doing. With his arms up at his neck, it was easy to wrap hers tight around his ribs, burying her face in his chest (since she didn't reach too much higher). "I missed you, too."

The hug caught him off guard but he was quick to lower his arms. Valerian stood for a moment before he wrapped his arms around her the best he could. Then, with a shuddering breath he'd found himself crying, face tucked against her hair. Slowly he sunk down to his knees awkwardly, taking Olive with him, holding her tight.

"I'm sorry," He sobbed against her hair, finding himself overwhelmed. "I'm sorry," His hand moved to her head and he tucked it under his, against his chest while he rested his head on hers and tried to catch his wits.

If the hug caught Vale by surprise, the feel of his wet tears and the shuddering of his chest beneath her cheek caught Olive. She hadn't meant... Oh. Her eyes widened a little as her face pressed against him, glad that in that moment he couldn't see her expression. In truth, she felt a little awkward just then. Except in the direst of circumstances, Olive, well, wasn't really a crier. Even before the ordeal of the war, she'd never really excelled at blatant displays of unguarded emotion.

Well, except, it seemed, anger.

But she wasn't angry now, and by the time Vale had pulled them to the ground, she'd composed herself. Surprise and awkwardness, if not forgotten, set aside.

"Hey," she said quietly, pulling away from him just enough that she could face him. She pushed back his hair, then brushed her hand against his wet cheek. "Hey," she said again, trying to catch his eye. "I'm here now. We're both alive, if a little worse for the wear. We're doing okay. We're okay."

A few careful breaths and he brushed his hands over his face and felt awkward and silly, but the emotions had been building up and apparently they decided to leak out of his face. Valerian caught Olive's hand and he held it for a moment before he brushed his own tears away and gave a quiet awkward laugh. "Yeah. Both alive." A deep sigh and he gave her a sheepish smile, "I'm sorry, that was as awkward for me as it was for you, I assure you."

There was a pause and he cleared his throat, "Can I just hold you? No funny stuff just..." He pulled gave a helpless shrug, "There's a lot of hugs to make up for." A lame excuse. Maybe she'd buy it.

Olive mustered an encouraging smile for him. One that said, 'No, this isn't awkward, really.' Okay, maybe not. But one she hoped said, 'It's okay. I don't mind.'

She paused a beat after he asked to hold her, a long beat, searching his face. Just when it seemed her silence went on a moment too long, she said, "Come on."

Olive rose to her feet, and pulled Valerian up beside her. Then, taking his hand, she led him back to their 'place' in the attic. It might be just as dusty, but at least it was more comfortable, and her lantern still cast a warm glow over it. Coaxing him down onto the assorted pile of blankets and pillows, Olive settled down beside him without a word, nestling her head in the crook of his neck and wrapping an arm tight around his side.

Valerian felt his breath catch, waiting for rejection.

And then ... She pulled away.

As she positioned him Valerian let her and finally with her tucked against him he sighed. "Thanks." There was a moments pause and he moved his leg, realizing just how much taller he was. "You know, I think I grew a few inches."

Nestled against him, she knew what he meant. Of course, he'd always been taller than her; but having filled out from the lanky boy he'd been, it seemed more pronounced to her, too.

But all the same, even if she knew what he meant, she couldn't help herself. Smiling to herself, without moving to look up at him, she remarked dryly, "I thought you said 'no funny business.'"

Joking was always easier than being serious, she thought; especially where emotions had been concerned.

"I wasn't joking, I honest--" Valerian stopped talking for a moment and he actually went red.

"Oooooh... Oh I get it." Then there was a long pause,and he grinned, an evil look coming across his face and he rubbed his knuckles against the top of Olive's head.  "Well, that, too. I meant kissing and Inappropriate Touching funny business." Then a pause, "besides, you thought of it, I was just talking about my height, your legs are really short."

"Me, too!" Olive laughed. "'Inappropriate Touching,'" she snorted another laugh, "you sound like Grace."

She scrunched her nose, though he wouldn't be able to see it. "My legs are not short," she countered. "They're proportioned just fine to to my height. It's the rest of me that's too small," she said, poking at her bony rib. "But my legs aren't short. You're just a giant."

"I sound like Grace?" The horror in his voice was apparent and he pressed his arm over his eyes, turning slightly in shame, "Not that. Anything but that." Then he smiled and chuckled, "Sure your legs are short. So's the rest of you." He caught her hand and held it when she poked her ribs and he entwined their fingers together and rest them on his chest, over his heart.

"I'm tall. You're tiny. Though," His voice lowered and he grinned, "I love being taller than everyone, you see the tops of everyone's heads. I may not be nobility but, oh man, there's something so satisfying about seeing the tops of their heads." then he shook his head, "That was weird, but it's true."

"Hm," was the only response Vale got to his comments about being able to 'see the tops of everyone's head.' She wondered vaguely if he'd thought that way about her father; she wasn't sure why. But mostly she didn't really think, and let their conversation lapse into silence. For the first time in a long time, Olive actually felt content. And after the emotional strain of their argument, she found herself suddenly exhausted. And, before too long, asleep.

The silence was drawing on him and it wasn't until Olive was breathing softly and evenly that Valerian realized she'd fallen asleep. That was bad, right? Still, he hesitated to move. He could be a pillow for her weary head. That's what friends were for, right?

He knew he should have woken her up. Should have escorted her to her bed room, smiled and went back home.

Still, something inside him screamed to be selfish and Valerian found himself nodding off. He was going to wait for the sky to lighten just a little. Then he'd wake her up and tell her to go to her bed. Five more minutes, then he'd wake her up.

With one of his hands tucked against her back, the other resting on the back of her head, Valerian had fallen asleep with her, kept safe in his arms and for the first time in a long time he didn't dream about fire.

Olive woke slowly, feeling warm and dozing and content. Then she felt the rise and fall of Vale's chest beneath her. Right. She'd fallen asleep with him in the attic. They'd shifted in their sleep, with Olive sleeping half on top of him, and she had a stitch in her side from the positioning and from the discomfort of sleeping in her clothes. Still half-dozing, she stretched against him, making a small sleepy waking-up stretching sound.

Olive propped herself up, blinking down at Vale for a moment. She felt a strange mix of contentness and awkwardness. Torn between wanting to kiss him and wanting to self-consciously shuffle away. What, she wondered, was really going on between them? In the end she did neither, instead brushing back a lock of his hair.

"Hey, wake up, sleepyhe-"

But then she stopped. Because she realized. She could see him. And not by candlelight. Coming in through the small attic window was the bright, strong light of late morning.

When Olive stopped talking, Velarian's eyes popped open and in an instance he was awake. Also sore, tired and achy but... "Oh no." He looked at the window and gave her a panicked look. What to do? Sitting up he shifted his weight and gave Olive a long look before looking back at the window. "Can you sneak into your bed? Pretend to have been sleeping the whole time?"

"What? No, I-" Olive stopped a beat, just staring. She was in big. trouble. Clambouring off of Vale and into a kneeling position. Just, for a moment, listening. The bustle of servants going about their business below could easily be heard. "No," she answered in what felt like a stage whisper, "Grace will already have come to wake me," she glanced outside, "ages ago."

Then another thought struck Olive.

What if it'd been reported that she'd... escaped?

Pushing his hands through his hair, Valerian ducked his head down and sighed. "Alright. We'll just... Tell them we fell asleep in the attic. I can vouch for you. We've been friends forever. No one is going to be surprised by me sneaking in to see you."

"What?" she turned and looked at him in surprise. Was he kidding?

"'We' aren't going to tell them anything," she replied quickly. No way. "Now you get back to the stables, stable-boy," she said, sticking her tongue out at him in a brief stab at levity. "I'll just... I'll... be fine. Now get."

"But Olive, you could get into serious trouble." Despite that Valerian stood up the best he could, wincing when he stood properly, leaning down to rub at his knee. "Just... Promise me that you'll tell them the truth if you get caught?"

"I-" she paused, finally concluding, "I will if I have to."

Olive stood up, too, looking at Vale then. If she had to guess, it wouldn't be any time soon that they'd be able to meet up in the attic again. What if she got sent back to the East Wing? Well, even if she didn't, she doubted she'd be able to come back out here. And she couldn't leave the house to go out to the stables and, well, she could hardly 'entertain' Vale in the library or, god forbid, her bedroom or...

She stared at him. When would they be able to see each other again?

In a flurry of movement, Valerian caught Olive's face and dipped down for a lingering kiss. "We'll see each other again," he said as he pulled away, thinking what she had been thinking.  A brief smile and he finally, made his way out of the attic. His leg hurt. His back hurt.  Work would be hell today, on top of worrying about Olive.

Olive watched Vale go, her mind lingering for a moment on the feel of his kiss. Because, well, now that her head was cooler (and Vale wasn't right in front of her), she wasn't sure if she wanted it or not. When he was right in front of her, she felt the same urge for physical intimacy, for closeness, that she was sure he did. But now, as she stared into the attic that had for so long been so symbolic of their friendship, she wondered what it would mean for them, as friends. It occurred to her then that, in all likelihood, they couldn't be friends and lovers. And that trying the latter might preclude the former.

And she didn't know which she wanted.

And worried that he did know which he wanted.

With a sigh, Olive left the attic with a long look, and headed back to her room, silently praying to Angsar that it wasn't as late as it seemed. When she climbed down the ceiling access of the attic into her room, she heard a disapproving cough before her feet had even touched the floor. Grace was there, but she was alone, and the door was still closed.

Olive looked at her sheepishly. "I... fell asleep in the library?" she offered lamely.

What followed was a mild interrogation of what had really happened, and ample reminders that Olive wasn't a child anymore. That even if she didn't risk being in real trouble for these sorts of antics - which she did - that she was an adult and needed to act like one. What followed that was a not uncaring lecture, it seemed, on the fairness of sneaking around with the poor stableboy. How fair it was to him, that was. When she was younger, Olive might have resented the long series of lectures as Grace fussed over getting her presentable (just to take up time more than anything else), but she didn't resent it now. Grace was right, she knew. In some ways, she realized, Olive was more comfortable with the relationship she had with Grace since returning than with whatever her relationship with Vale was now. Olive considered herself an adult, responsible, serious; and that's what Grace wanted for her, too. Not to mention that Grace had been a downright tiger protecting her since she returned, and had been immeasurably kind.

But with Vale, the more she listened to Grace, the more she was unsure... He'd said himself he was struggling with how different she was now. And even though he'd said he admired who she was now, she still felt a bit like who he wanted her to be, who she tried to be when she was with him, and who she was now... weren't all the same thing.

Well, she thought, she'd have plenty of time to mull over it until she saw him again.

---

And in the stables, Bairn was waiting for Valerian's returned, arms crossed. When his son skulked back in into the stables, Bairn cleared his throat loudly.

"I got a discrete message from Grace this morning," he said, trying to sound casual, but giving 'Junior' the side-eye, "asking me to check that Lady Constance's horse was still here. You wouldn't know anything about that, I suppose?"

Well...

Fuck.

"uuuh..." Valerian tried to smile, giving his father a look before casting another brief look around. "Yes. Olive and I fell asleep in the attic. I needed to tell her something and..." There was a pause, "We fell asleep. It was an accident," Another brief smile and he rose an arm to give it a lazy wave to his father. A lazy dismissive way, "Won't happen again, Sorry for worrying you and Grace."

Then he tried to inch himself away so he could get to work and not think about how much his leg was hurting. Or his not-so-much-a-leg anymore.

"Come back here for a moment," Bairn said, frowning at his skulking son. "It's not just about 'worrying' Grace or me. The problem would've been worrying a guard if they'd found out," he reprimanded him. But it was half-hearted. There was something else troubling the old stablehand.

Bairn sighed. "I won't lecture you about that, though. Yer old 'nough to figure out that kinda sense for yourself. I ain't stupid, though. I knew you found about about Miss Olive comin' back, and I've seen how distracted you've been since." He hemmed; clearly talking about this sort of thing wasn't his forte. "Son, yer not kids anymore. I don't wanna see you get hurt. I don't know what you two were doin' up that attic, but you must know..." He hawed. "Valerian. Doncha want a wife, a boy of your own one day?"

Oh no. Slowly he made his way back, wincing every now and then.

Valerian frowned down at the ground, feeling small.

The talk always made his chest ache and he gave his father a look, his features more telling than any words could hope to say. "Not during this war I don't," His words were stern but eventually he felt his shoulders slump and he felt defeated, "We weren't doing anything in the attic, Pa. We just fell asleep. Honest." He pushed his hands through his hair and ducked his head down.

"You don't mean that, son," Bairn said. But he sounded sad. Like what he meant was, 'I hope you don't mean that.' He frowned, every bit as uncomfortable as Valerian was, but needing to get the words off his chest. "I know yeh don't remember her well, but yer mother was the second best thing that ever happened to me. God rest her soul. You, yer the first best thing, Junior."

His brown creased. Bairn was a thoughtful and kind man, but not a man of words. He was a man who showed his kindness through actions, and saying these things now didn't come exactly naturally.

"Look, yer both old 'nough, I can't tell yeh what to do. But it pains my simple old heart to think of you... turnin' yer back on the best things in life, son. Because Lady Constance, she can't give them to you. Yeh hafta know that."

Valerian didn't mean it.

Sort of.

Having a family, raising a child in this country right now... Even thinking about it made him want to puke. What if his child was a mage? Sure he wasn't. Maybe his future wife wasn't. What if the child was? A pained look to his father and he shook his head, Valerian would kill before letting any child of his be taken away for something they couldn't help. Ansgar preached that magic was an abomination. The hypocrisy around the church had always made him ill.

Still, when his father told him he was the best thing that ever happened to him, Valerian felt his heart drop. "I ... I do want those someday." He confessed quietly, letting his head duck down, and again, he looked at his father, his face crumpling oh so slightly at the reality setting in.

While her father wasn't a duke, she was still Lady Constance and as a man of no station, as a simple stablehand... "Yeah... I know that's ..." Briefly he closed his eyes and gave a humourless laugh, "I know. I know. You've been nicely telling me that since I discovered Olive was pretty," his palms were pressed to his face and he gave a lengthy sigh.

"I figured she'd get married and move away before..." The mage camps, but he stayed quiet, " I'll stay away from the house and she can't come outside." Another hand at his face and he gave his father a look, "Is that enough?"

"Only you can know what's enough," Bairn answered. He wanted to say that it probably wasn't. That his son ought to court some other girls. Girls who could one day be a wife, give him children, make him happy. That not seeing Olive wouldn't be enough if he kept mooning over her. But he didn't think that was what Vale wanted to hear then.

"Well," he sighed, "now yeh know why I didn't tellya she was back." And for the first time, a small part of Bairn wished she wasn't. "I hope yeh can forgive me."

He clasped Vale's shoulder for a moment, then said, "Go on an' get some breakfast then. Gotta lot of work to get through today."

Again his hands were in his hair and he kept his eyes closed. Valerian didn't want other girls, which was probably the hardest part. The mixed signals. The way she kissed him. Still, maybe it was for the best. Of course he daydreamed, he'd always daydream. But now they were different people and he'd come to terms with her never being able to be his.

Valerian could live with being her friend.

He'd have to.

There was nothing else for him with her.

A weary look to his father and he nodded, feeling a little numb. "You want to be a grandpa that bad, huh? I guess you'd have an easier time chasing after a toddler than I would," He chuckled, motioning to his fake leg. Valerian's hand went to his fathers on his shoulder and he gave it a lackluster squeeze.

"See you when the day's done, Pop." And Valerian went and scrounged up some breakfast and began his day. It was long and his leg was sore and raw by the time he was done. He avoided the house and he avoided the other servants the best he could.

The next day passed with Olive trying desperately to keep herself busy and distracted. She kept oscillating between an intellectually understanding that nothing could ever come of anything with Vale, an emotional confusion about whether or not she wanted anything to anyway, and a physical yearning for him. It all left her unsettled, and distracted. But that night she couldn't risk distraction.

Just like her place with Vale in the attic had remained untouched, Olive was amazed by how many strange and hidden passageways were virtually undiscovered in Wulfbauer Keep. She waited now in one such passage to guide the 'delivery' from Silas to where they would hide, hopefully safely, for the next few days. Until the smugglers arrived to take them, God willing, to Serendipity.

...

Above ground, night had already fallen and the days very last chores were being done. Astrid and Bairn were also anxious. The crates had been delivered earlier - that "joint oat delivery" Astrid had mentioned in passing to Vale - but they'd been instructed not to open them until now.

In the back storeroom of the stables, they exchanged nervous glances. It was time.

The house felt itchy today. Normally he wouldn't notice a subtle difference, usually he wouldn't care, but ever since he'd delivered that satchel of 'love letters' he was starting to notice things were kind of weird. Maybe he was being paranoid. Valerian spent most of his day in the stables, taking care of the horses-  brushing them down, getting them fat on what treats they could afford. As usual he kept extra care of one horse in particular - his favourite and he was still brushing the beast.

It was with a snap that he woke up, realizing he'd fallen asleep in the stall. Resting against the very horse he'd been brushing. A small smile was on his face and he stood up carefully, quietly, so's not to wake the horse up.

He hadn't really been paying attention, so when he took a turn and saw Astrid and his dad he stared for a moment, looking between the two for a long moment. "uuuh... " A careful step back so he didn't loose his balance and he stared at them for a moment. "I'll... Uh... Leave you two be."  Another long look at them, at the crates. He wouldn't judge if they were about to do some weird stuff, his dad never did take another wife.

Oh crap. Valerian.

When they hadn't found him earlier, Bairn and Astrid had simply assumed that he was off drinking somewhere. They hadn't expected him to emerge from the back of the stables at this hour. Maybe they should have, though. At his appearance now, they were both clearly surprised.

Astrid recovered quickly than Bairn, who still looked awkwardly worried that his son was getting the wrong idea and that he might discover things he should. The kitchen maid pursed her lips, giving Vale a look.

Reading his expression, she said, "Yes, you caught us. Your father and I are having an affair." She rolled her eyes. "Tch. Wipe that look off your face, Bairn Valerian Reine, and those sort of ridiculous ideas out of your head," she scolded in her typical no-nonsense fashion. "We're just goin' through the grain order. Makin' sure we got everything we need, now that we've combined the stable's and the kitchen's orderin' supplies."

Bairn simply nodded, looking very grateful that the girl could think so much faster than him. If not entirely convincing.

Slowly he lifted his hands, taking steps back, "I ain't gonna judge. Dad's probably lonely and you're pretty." Another nod and he gave them a long look before he shook his head and went on his way...

Or pretended to.

Valerian was careful to walk away just far enough that his footsteps wouldn't be noticed anymore, but close enough to still listen to what was going on. So far, there wasn't the sound of fabric dropping or wet kisses but still... What if. Probably the weirdest bout of curiosity he's had all night. All day.

Besides, being distracted and being weird and listening for his father to make out with the kitchen maid helped him keep his mind off of Olive, just like he promised.

Astrid glared at Valerian reprovingly the whole time he retreated; though Bairn just looked mortified. As soon as Astrid was content that he'd left, she turned to the older stablehand.

"That son of yours," she clucked, "the ideas he gets! You're too soft on'im, Bairn. Someone needs to knock some sense into him. 'Dad's probably lonely and you're pretty,'" she parroted, sounding exasperated. "Really."

Bairn made some mumbling response, but they didn't talk more on it, because time was ticking and they had more important tasks for the night. This was the first time they were doing this with, well, strangers. And both Bairn and Astrid were anxious to see who the people would be, and what state they would be in. The first time they'd smuggled someone through the castle like this, it had been Astrid's brother. That was why she'd petitioned to let Olive work in the kitchen. So she could get close enough to the noble-born mage to ask her help... It had been hard enough seeing the state her brother had been in after miraculously escaping from the camps in the north, but at least they'd known him... Not knowing made it that much scarier.

Exchanging another meaningful look, Bairn took the iron bar and began cracking open the crates. Once they were open, Astrid hurriedly began moving the stacks of flour and oats from the front of the crates to reveal...

She gasped. She couldn't help it. Huddled in the back of the crate was a man probably in his sixties and a girl no more than fourteen. His granddaughter, maybe. Seeing them huddled, hiding in the cramped little space, the mix of relief and fear in their eyes when Astrid first uncovered them - she had to choke back a sudden sob. A rare occurrence for the typically tough maid. Swiftly, though, she collected herself enough to help them out and onto legs shaking from cramp. Who knew how many hours they'd been hiding in those crates. Longer than they'd had the crates in their possession, certainly.

Astrid wiped tears away from her face as she helped the man down onto the stable floor. Bairn, meanwhile, was opening the second crate and the two of them now quickly removed the sacks of grain to uncover another two mages; a woman in her forties or fifties and a somewhat shifty looking man in his thirties. At first Astrid thought he looked untrustworthy, shifty eyes, but then from behind him a scrawny little girl clung to his leg. She couldn't be more than three, and Astrid was shocked she was being so quiet. She looked up at the man, who mouthed, 'My daughter.'

Once they were all together, the five mages were a sight of misery. Neither Bairn nor Astrid had really been prepared for. Now shaking themselves, Bairn motioned for them to follow to the drain at the end of the store room and, moving as silently as he could, lifted the heavy metal grate.

That was not a sexy noise.

Valerian frowned slightly, pressed against the wall and listening. Something was wrong and he wanted to peek and look but he knew he'd get caught. A horse had woken up apparently, because a loud whinny broke through the silence and he quickly jerked his head to listen to the sound shortly after the metal grate made a noise. The last thing he'd expected was a small child to dart out of the room, apparently having found the noise of horses far more comforting than the scary room and the scary grate.

What.

Now, Valerian was no baby doctor, but he knew for damn sure they needed way more than that to incubate and become little humans. Before Astrid or his father could dart out of the room after the child, Valerian was following the skinny little thing and he ducked down and wrapped his arms around her. "Whooaaah, Little Sister!" He said gently, tucking her under his arm before cradling her quickly, grinning. The child gave him a terrified look, like he was a monster. The look made his heart break, she made his heart break and he quickly forced another smile, gave her a kiss on the top of her head and took her closer to the horses.

The little girl was still afraid, but...

"Want to give her a treat?" He said gently, quietly, tucking a strand of stringy hair behind her ear. A weary nod, and Valerian shuffled over to the bin of apples, pulling one out - one of the better looking ones - and then another of the older looking ones. Then, slowly, gently, he helped the girl feed the black horsey a midnight snack. The better of the pair of apples resting on her lap in his arms. "Is your mommy or daddy in that room?" He asked gently. Another weary nod, the apple held between her hands now, the other being munched on. "Let's get you back, okay?" A soulful look from the little girl to the pretty horsey and Valerian carried her back to the room, humming a lullaby his mother sang to him - one of the few memories about her.

It hit him then, standing in the door way and looking in. This was what Olive was talking about. This little girl wasn't some child that grew from the oats and hay. "Dad," Valerian said after a moment, still holding the little girl who clung to her apple, "is this what the love letters were for?"

There was a hushed commotion in the storeroom when the girl bolted out and when Valerian reappeared with the girl, her father rushed forward and snatched the toddler away from the strange man who just appeared. The look he gave Valerian was hard, fierce, and protective. He didn't smile. He didn't say 'thank you.' The look was that of a desperate warning.

When the man retreated with the girl, all eyes were wide and on Valerian. For a moment, no one moved. The mages were, naturally, terrified to see anyone unexpected. But Bairn and Astrid didn't look much better. They knew, after all, how the young stablehand felt about mages. How much love he didn't have for them.

And, of course, they had no idea why he was talking about 'love letters.' Or that Olive had in any way already involved him.

The grate was open, though, and without taking his eyes off his son, Bairn said quietly, "Astrid."

Snapping out of her surprise, Astrid bit her lip, throwing Vale one imploring look, before quickly beginning to usher the mages down into the drain. But the whole process was unsettled, and everyone was clearly nervous with the unexpected arrival. But they followed all the same; what choice did they have?

While Astrid lifted the little girl down into the drain to her father, Bairn slowly approached Valerian. "Steady there, son," he said quietly, tensely. It was clear he feared what Valerian's reaction might be. And it was even possible he was moving closer to intercept his son before he could take off to tell any guards. "You needn't have seen any of this, boy."

The look Valerian gave his father was, quite clearly, a form of horror. The scars on his back were negligible and his missing leg didn't really matter anymore. Of course he knew mages were treated badly but this was the first time he'd seen it so... There. "Pa..." He watched the people go where Astrid instructed them and he looked back to his father. A few shakes of his head and he moved a hand to cover his mouth.

Of course it hurt that his own father didn't trust him to help but, he knew, the one person who got the brunt of his bitch-fits about mages after he'd lost his leg had indeed, been his father. Before Olive came back, Valerian might have gone for the guards. If she hadn't told him her story. Her experiences. Did they come from the camps? How could people be treated like that? "I want to help." His voice was hushed and he tried to look over his fathers shoulder, trying to watch what he could.

"Just... I want to help. If keeping my mouth shut is the only way to do that..." He locked eyes with his father. It wasn't about mages anymore. Those were people.  That was a tiny little girl, who should be fat and happy and playing with the pretty horseys. The guarded look in the fathers eyes. Valerian recognized something in that man that he carried in himself and while he had no child to protect, to care for... "Pa... Please. I can help."

Bairn held his son's gaze, frowning slightly, brow furrowed, as the last of the mages disappeared into the drain. The last to go down was the girl in her early teens, who turned and cast one last, half-curious, half-guarded, look at Vale. Then she disappeared. Astrid descended after them. And only then did Bairn seem to release a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

He regarded his son for a long moment. It was clear he didn't know exactly what to think, but that he was still cautious. Finally, he nodded briefly and said, "You can help me put away all this grain. It's a pain for an old man like me when these shipments get in late. Joints're creekier after dusk."

Bairn said no more on the matter. He simply got to work. And hoped his son would follow, both in putting away the grain, and in emulating his silence.

Astrid reappeared half an hour later or so. Not coming up through the drain, which Bairn had closed again, but back through the door Vale had first spied them from. There were many entrances and exits to the Keep's subterranean passageways. She still looked shell-shocked and shaky. She gave Bairn a meaningful look when she came back. Then gave Vale a look.

"Lady Constance wants to talk to you, Valerian," she muttered quietly when she was close enough to him. "She's in the beer cellar."

He noticed the look from the girl, giving her a gentle a smile as he could. Concern on his features. Watching her as she went down. Why was his heart pounding so hard? Valerian pressed his hand to his chest and he looked at his father after a moment. The instruction to put away grain was taken automatically and he gave a nod and helped put away the 'late shipment'. "Yeah, I always managed to miss the late shipments."

Like his father worked silently, so did he.

His head snapped up at the arrival of Astrid and he caught the look. His blood ran cold at the next set of words she said. Valerian hadn't felt like he was in 'trouble' for a long, long time. Giving Astrid a numb nod, Valerian swallowed carefully and made his way to where she was waiting to talk to him.

Valerian was hesitant, not wanting to experience a sound tongue lashing of the Not Fun kind, but still he went and when he finally got to where he was supposed to go, he stayed silent. Not having any words to explain himself because he figured he knew exactly what she was going to tell him.

Olive had lit only a single candle in the beer cellar. The less light the better. Had there been a window, she wouldn't have even lit that candle. She set her jaw when she heard footsteps coming towards the cellar. In a lot of ways, she was less nervous seeing Vale now than she had been the other times. Her will, her resolve, was much stronger when advocating for other people than trying to navigate her own confused feelings.

Her eyes immediately went up to him when he entered the room. And despite the best efforts of her firm resolve, she felt a momentary tumult of confused emotions on seeing him. But set them aside, and waited until the closed the door behind him to speak.

"Vale, perhaps it was wrong of me to involve you in the meeting at Baily's pub," she started, speaking quietly and forgoing any greeting. "Maybe I was wrong, and I apologize for that. You can be angry with me if you want. But, I need you... No, I ask you, please. Don't speak of anything you saw tonight. If... if you can do that for me," she didn't bother asking him to do anything for them, he'd made himself quite clear on that already, "I'll never ask you to do anything for me again. Please, Vale."

For a long moment Valerian was hurt.

"Olive..." He said in a hushed voice, shaking his head, "Olive there was a baby there." His hand found it's way to his chest, "I... Who would I tell? Besides someone that would hurt them?" Shaking his head for a long moment, "The secret is safe with me. I swear to God, Olive." A long moment and he took a few steps closer, his hands out for a moment because all he wanted to do was hug her. Though he pulled his hands back and pressed them to his thighs.

"You can ask me for anything, you know that. Don't... Don't use it all up on something you don't need to ask me to do."

"I know there was a baby there," she answered quietly, her expression impassive, unmoved. Her eyes watched Valerian carefully, looking for any sign of deceit or uncertainty. He might say now when she was in front of him that he wouldn't dream of telling anyone, but the next day, would he have second thoughts? Unconsciously, her right hand twitched a little. Olive was used to having a handcanon strapped to her side in situations like this. And it was clear in that moment this was not 'Conny.' The hard expression, the unforgiving eyes, the cold and fierce tone in her voice; this was someone else. Someone new that she had become. And she couldn't let how 'Conny' felt about Vale get in the way of it.

"There are a lot of people you could tell," she answered levelly. "Even innocently. Even accidentally. And you're right, more likely than not, it would reach the ears of someone that would hurt them. Even if Erwin has stopped outright deporting people to the north, that hasn't erased the fear or hatred in people's hearts. There are mage hunters and rogue Mordecai that care little for duchy borders or local laws. So I would rather 'use up' my favors from you, and take just this one. And have you that much more strictly bound to it."

Valerian frowned at her, "Olive. I won't tell anyone. I won't talk about it, I won't mention it."  This was the woman she'd become. Part of him wanted to introduce himself as her child hood friend, hi, how are you doing? He licked his lips and shook his head, "I won't endanger anyone, not for you, but for them." That curious girl. The protective father and his baby.

"I can only imagine if I was a father, if my child was a mage and if they were ..." He frowned, not even willing to imagine his child being treated like that. "I want to do something good, Olive. If being quiet and pretending I didn't see anything is how that's going to work out... I'll do it. I didn't see anything."  Valerian was conflicted. He'd lost a leg but... He was rational. Not some angry irrational idiot that hated everything. Now he knew. He knew better and he was still alive.

Olive listened, her expression unchanged, except perhaps to frown a little. 'I won't endanger anyone,' he'd said, 'not for you, but for them.'

She pressed her lips together, then reminded him, "A few days ago you told me firmly that you weren't interested in mages. That you 'weren't on their side.' Your father and Astrid seem to think the same thing."

It wasn't really an accusation. Just stated as simple fact. Indeed, her stony countenance was breaking a little; just a little. Just a little softer. She wanted to believe him. Desperately. She wanted to think that her oldest friend was on her side in this battle; not on 'her side,' but on the same side as she was. Their side, those people hiding in the Keep's forgotten cellars. But she couldn't trust him just because she wanted to.

"I lost my fucking leg Olive. I'm not a duke. I'm not some noble. I have to walk around on this mess for the rest of my life instead of sit in some chair and do taxes. My back is a mess, my body is fucked up. I'm selfish. I was angry that my body is fucked up." Valerian said quiet and perhaps a little angry. Why wouldn't she just... "That was a few days ago." Giving his head a shake he stared down at the ground, not willing to look at her because he might break. This was a very protective woman and he knew, somewhere deep down, that if he couldn't keep his mouth shut she'd be forced to do something about it.

That wasn't why he had a change of heart though. "I didn't know what it was like until you told me. Until I held that tiny little baby girl. Until those people looked at me, terrified. That shit hit like a tonne of bricks and I'd lose the other leg before I told anyone about what was going on here." Pushing his hands through his hair he gave a frustrated sigh, "I don't know what you want me to say or what you're looking for from me."

Olive looked a little stung by his comment that he 'was not some noble.' But she knew he was right; losing his leg did have a bigger impact on him. She knew that. But he spoke as though 'a few days ago' was really 'years ago.'

In the end, she sighed. "Sit down, Valerian."

She regarded him for a moment, deciding that if hearing a little really had swayed him so much, perhaps hearing more would seal his promise. "We don't know if the little girl is a mage," she said, more weary now that fierce; much of that seemed drained out of her now. "But the father is. And the mother was. The Church doesn't allow mages to keep their children. Especially not now. Had the father and girl been there when the Mordecai came to their home, they would have been taken with the mother. Him to the camps, her to be raised by the Church." Olive made a sour face. "And if she did turn out to be a mage herself, the Church..." But she didn't finish that thought. "He's managed to keep her, but it's kept them on the run. Well, you can tell by looking at her she's never known a stable life with enough to eat. They just want a better life. A safer life.

"The older man isn't a mage. But his daughter was, and his granddaughter is. She's seen the inside of a camp. Her mother died there, but a guard helped the girl escape, though I don't know what she suffered to earn his pity. The other woman was smuggled out with her. Now he wants to do for his granddaughter what he couldn't do for his daughter."

Olive sighed. Just a handful of stories of thousands. They were vague enough in certain details that she decided they wouldn't be too risky to tell. But, she hoped, explicit enough in other details to drive home for Vale the importance that their secret be kept.

Taking a seat, he leaned his weight on his good leg and just... Listened. Staring down at the ground. Losing his leg didn't seem so bad anymore. Probably stiff as seven hells in ten years and unable to do a lot of work but... At least he'd be alive. Maybe. Hopefully. His eyes closed after a moment and finally, when Olive was finished her story he just stared at her. What the girl suffered to earn the guard's pity. And now she was here. To be taken away to somewhere safe.

"I won't..." He sighed and closed his eyes, "I won't say anything. This is safe with me." Finally he looked at her, giving a quiet sigh and looked away, "I'm sorry I didn't understand before this."

Olive sighed, the fierceness he'd encountered when he first arrived draining out of her. She sat next to him in silence for several moments, before resting her head against his shoulder.

"Not many people do understand," she finally said. But she sounded more sad than anything; and it was not a barbed or accusational comment directed at him. It seemed, for now, that his word was good enough. "It wasn't 'love letters' in that satchel," she told him, deciding to divulge a little more in hopes of strengthening their trust. "It was payment for the smugglers that will take them from here." She didn't say when, or to where. "From my own things," she added quickly. "I didn't steal anything."

She paused. "I'm sorry I sent you there, though, without telling you what you were doing."

He tensed slightly when she rest her head on his shoulder, simply because he wasn't expecting someone to touch him, let alone her. She'd looked so angry. So prepared to do something terrible for those people. Valerian hesitantly wrapped his arm around her, resting his head against hers and nuzzling into her hair.

"it was easy to guess love letters," He teased, "and don't think for a second I'd have cared if you stole something - not that I think you did." Valerian knew he should head back. That his father was probably wondering where he went. The not-so-subtle 'don't try for something you can't have with her' gnawed at the back of his head, now that she was so close again.

"Don't be sorry, Olive. I'm glad you didn't tell me, I might have listened for the wrong flower by being so nervous. Like... Bluebells or something. Be talking to that strange man for days about you." He moved his other hand to tuck a stray piece of hair from her face and tried to smile at her, "You've grown up. I still have some catching up to do."

Olive shifted her weight against Vale when his arm wrapped tentatively around her. But at his comment about Silas, she gave a little snort. "He's not a 'strange man,'" she huffed defensively. Silas had been one of her constants since she was sent to the second camp. Though not in the way Vale had guessed. "He had a wife and daughter once, you know," she said sadly, thinking back to the father and daughter they were helping now. "When the Church came to take the girl away, his wife resisted and they killed her. Oh, by 'accident' of course. Then they took his girl to raise on their own. After we escaped," she said, betraying the fact that they had been in the camps together, "he went to find her. And he did. But they'd had her too long; she didn't even recognize him anymore. Or, at least, knew that she wasn't supposed to. She nearly called a guard on him..."

She trailed off in the story, leaving it there, and frowning to herself.

She sighed again, then glanced up at him and his attempted smile. "Well," she said, "you've certainly grown more vertically than I have. I don't think I'll be able to catch up with you."

Another little window into Olive's life. A life he couldn't begin to imagine because while she'd been running and fighting for her life, he'd been taking care of horses. Sure he lost his leg in between some of the taking care of horses... What if he hadn't though. Would he still be out there? Would he have gone too far to come back? "I'm glad there was someone like him with you, despite him being a total stranger to me, from what I saw, he really cared about you."

With Olive tucked against his side, he gave a humourless chuckle when she mentioned his height. "I have to do something better than other people," Valerian commented in reference to his height, "Besides, you're cute short, I don't want you to catch up."

Olive gave a little sigh against him. She didn't comment on Silas again. Maybe she could explain the bond between them to Valerian; after all, he'd been a soldier and Olive imagined it wasn't so different. But she didn't want to talk, again, about the pangs of guilt she felt thinking of Silas and the rest still starving and scraping along while she was here, safe.

Instead she shifted so she could look up at him, narrowing her eyes in faux-suspicion. There it was again; that gray area of... was it flirting? Had she started it? Whatever it was, it made her stomach flip in indecision. She wrinkled her nose. "I don't think you ever called me 'cute' before I disappeared for five years."

When Valerian looked down at her and her suspicion he narrowed his back, adding a little pout to his lips. "No," He said evenly, the pout melting away into a small smile and he sighed, "I actually cared when people told me not to do stuff." then he shrugged

"Then life happened, you were gone, I almost died soo..." Valerian shrugged, "Who gives a toss what they tell me what not to do?" He gave his lips a lick and he stared off into the darkness of the cellar, lowering his head for a moment. "Dad told me to... Leave you alone." He smiled slightly, "cause we can't get married and have kids. And if my Pa is telling me that, then I'm pretty sure Grace has been singing you the tune of 'stop teasing the stable boy'. Though I can see now there was a lot more to that than... Just that."

A big breath and he gave her a gentle nudge with his elbow, "Know any cute girls?"

Unconsciously, Olive shifted her weight off of Valerian as he spoke, though she didn't actually move away. Though his words were couched in a bit of humor, Olive knew how hard they must be for him to say, and they weighed just as heavily on her as she thought they must on him. 'Stop teasing the stable boy' was a bit nicer than Grace had been, but she supposed the message had been similar. Though it made her feel al ittle uncomfortable, thinking of Bairn warning Vale off of her. She knew that of course he would look out for his son's well-being, but Bairn had been something of a second father to her, and somehow it was hard not to take it a little personally. Even if she knew she shouldn't. But listening to Vale's words made her chest tighten, and her heart beat a little faster.

She pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs and resting her head against her knees. "I don't want to marry and have kids with anyone." She said it softly, but there was a firmness in the words; she meant it. Olive had never really been so interested in children anyway, but after all the families she'd seen torn apart, all of the terrible decisions parents had been forced to make (including her own), nothing repulsed her more than the thought of a family of her own.

She turned her head and smiled sadly at Vale. Only realizing then that she didn't want to tell him about cute girls. But that wasn't really what he was asking her, was it? The question was code for something else. And it'd be beyond selfish for Olive to deny him. "I told you already," she said, "that some of the maids think you're quite handsome. You want names?"

Valerian gave a dry laugh, "You think I do? I told Dad that. He got... Kinda sad. Went onto tell me that Mom and I were the best things that ever happened to him. Like... Somehow holding some baby of my own would be the most glorious thing ever." He shook his head, the idea didn't repulse him. Someday he knew that having a wife and child were just one of those things.   He let Olive keep herself curled up, hugging her legs for a moment or two before he threw an arm over her shoulders.

"You don't have to look so pouty at me asking about girls," He gave her a little shake, "I was only teasing." There was a long pause and he sighed, "If I wanted to get married to one of the maids that thought I was handsome, don't you think I'd have done that already? I mean... C'mon."

"I'm not pouting," she responding a bit too quickly (and indignantly), crinkling her nose at him again. Her expression changed, though, as she tried to read what he was telling her. Had she misunderstood him before? Because she hadn't thought he was joking. Worse than that, she'd thought he was, well.. right.

"I don't know," she said, looking away from him into the darkness, "maybe it would be glorious." She opted not to respond more to whether or not Vale wanted to marry any of the maids. "I mean, I don't know... Maybe if I were somebody else. But not me. If I weren't a mage. If I weren't a Carwick... My parents, they didn't have any choice in sending me away. If they'd tried to protect me, they'd have endangered the Duchy. And all the mages who've had their children taken from them, or had to run and hide to keep them... I never want to be in that position. Either one. Any one."

She was silent for a moment, then looked back at Vale, smiling a little. "But maybe your dad's right. You wouldn't have to worry about those things..." Her smile broadened a little, adding, "I can't imagine how much trouble a child of yours would be, though." But for all the teasing, it was a gentle attempt to tell him... Maybe his dad was right. About more than just 'holding a baby.' Though some selfish part of her couldn't come right out and say it; didn't want him to agree.

Maybe if she were someone else?

"It's not 'maybe if you were someone else' Olive, it's 'maybe if this place was better'." He referred to Connlaoth and he turned to smile at her, sticking out his tongue in the process.

"I'll make you a deal," He held out his hand, intending for her to shake it, "When you get married and have babies, I will too. That way, they can grow up and be friends and trouble together." He squinted his eyes a little at her for a moment, "Friends like..." A long pause and he sighed, "What are we, Olive?"  Valerian looked over at her after, frowning slightly, not really sure what to make of the fact that all he wanted to do was get her naked and kiss her everywhere.

He also wanted to give her hugs when she was crying and be some sort of pillar to lean on. Valerian continued to frown with thought while his mind wandered.

Olive did not take his hand. Her expression immediately darkened. "I'm serious. It's different for me. Even if I weren't a mage," she answered quickly, her voice rising a little. "But I am. And this is the country we live in.... But even if I weren't, I don't want children that I have to put second. I don't want to have to make the decisions my parents made. I don't -"

But she stopped abruptly at his question. His last question. It took her a moment to realize that, stopped mid-sentence, her mouth was still open. She closed it, regarding him for a long time. What were they. She was silent for a long moment, her mind wading through possible answers. None of them felt 'right.' Maybe it was too naive to really just call themselves 'friends' now, but neither were they more than friends, exactly. No possible answer that she came up with sat well with her. All the things she felt seemed to conflict with some other thing she felt. She'd thought he was gone from her life, and now here he was, and she had no idea what he was to her.

"I don't know. Fucked, I guess," she finally answered, a little wryly. But only a little, smiling apologetically at him. Whatever they were, she had a hard time imagining a scenario for them that would really end with them both happy. Maybe his dad really was right after all.

"That was the point, Olive." He didn't frown at her, simply watched her get herself angrier and angrier. The point of the moment pact was that since she wasn't going to, he wasn't about to. It was silly and juvenile but... Valerian dropped his hand onto his lap and simply watched the ground. Had it always been so... Stuffy in here?

"Fucked?" Valerian barked out a laugh before he slapped his hand out over his mouth, "No... Not that." He rose his good leg up so he could rest his elbow against it, lean his head on his hand while he pondered on just what they were. People. Yeah, that'd do. There would be no happy ending here, no whirlwind romance. A heavy sigh and he dropped his leg before letting his head drop down.

"Should we like... Start over as something?  Is that a thing? Can people do that?" He smirked, "Though, you wouldn't have knowing me as a kid to keep you from thinking I'm handsome." Valerian tossed what he could of his dark hair for good measure.

Olive didn't share his laugh; wasn't sure what he was laughing at. So she just looked at him, frowning a little.

"Something like what?" she asked him. She wasn't sure what he was suggesting and, despite herself, she felt her heart beat a little faster at the possibilities.

"Start over as strangers?" He gave her a long look, not frowning, but his expression was neutral. They practically were, all they had of one another was memories. "Start over as... A guy and a girl who get along? Instead of Constance the Duke's Daughter and Valerian the Stable hand?" Valerian gave her a side-long look, pursing his lips for a moment, "Maybe fake names. Wear disguises. I can put on a hat and use a cane or something, be all dapper."

Constance straightened up a little. Start over as strangers? Her face fell a little. The last thing she wanted to do was pretend to be someone else. Somehow it felt like she'd fought too hard to survive or something to give up her identity. She knew he didn't really mean it like that, but...

There was something else about it. He was all she had left to her old life. He was it. Everyone else was gone. She hated pretending to not to have the past they had together.

"If we were strangers," she started, "we'd never interact more than you bringing me a horse and saddling it." It wasn't a joke, and Olive didn't smile. She let out a little sigh though. Then asked, "What do you want to do, Vale?"

Valerian sighed and looked away for a moment.

"I want it to be okay for me to kiss you is what I want." Pushing a hand through his hair he gave her a little smile, amusement in his eyes. "I suppose I have to get over that though, don't I. I don't really want to be strangers, never mind that, it was a stupid idea." Another sigh and he closed his eyes before giving her a brief look.

"What I said to you in the attic, about you being an amazing woman. I wasn't just... Trying to butter you up. You know that, right?"

Olive watched him push his hand through his hair, watched him sigh. Olive didn't know what she wanted, except some part of her wanted to give him what he wanted. Because he wanted it, and she cared about him, and wanted to make him happy. Even if that wasn't really the best way to care for someone.

"You want it to be... okay with who?" she asked, unfolding her legs a little. "To kiss me, I mean."

She ignored what he said about her being an 'amazing woman.' She wasn't so sure. Some of the ways she'd changed... Olive, at times, found herself increasingly uncomfortable with herself. And this was one of those times. Because even in the thick of the emotions, it occurred to her that it would raise much less suspicion, her sneaking around at night, smuggling people in and out, if people thought she was sneaking around to see Vale. She hated herself for even thinking of it, but there it was.

She bit her lip, eyes searching his. Feeling all around very conflicted.

He shrugged.

"The world?" A moment's pause, "the country, I guess." Valerian sighed and crossed his arms over his chest, knowing it was wrong. He wasn't allowed to want to kiss her. Kissing her was for someone else to do and that someone else was very much no him.

"I want it to be okay with you," His words were softer and he smiled at her, again, pushing his hands through his hair. "I'm just talking in circles now." He cleared his throat and tried to smile, "Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?"

Olive yearned to just close the space between them and kiss him then. But the mood wasn't right then. It was too sad. But she did want to; even if she wasn't entirely sure if she wanted it for her sake or his. Did it matter?

"Do you think," she ventured instead, shifting so she was facing him, unfolding her legs, "we're worrying too much about what we 'should' do or what we are now or... I mean. It's been so long. Maybe we shouldn't force ourselves to decide. We could just," she was the one talking in circles now. She was thinking in circles, too. She wanted so much to just.... make it all better for him.

She bit her lip, self consiously pushing back a stand of hair. He was right, or his dad was, they could never marry or have children. But what if that really wasn't what either of them wanted? Then... what did it really matter? After everything the war had taken from both of them, weren't they entitled to something? Gingerly, Olive put a hand on his forearm.

"We could just... see." See what they felt. What would happen. Whether or not it was right. How would they know until then? She mustered a little smile, a bit tentative. Then Olive folded her legs underneath her so she was nearly at eye level with Valerian. She brushed back a piece of his hair, then smoothed her hands across his cheeks until they were laced on either side into the hair at the nape of his neck. She held them there for a moment, gazing levely at him. Then she leaned in to steal a kiss from him. Gently, in case this time he didn't want it. Pulling away just enough, so their noses touched at the tips, she said, "It's okay with me."

We could just see.

Valerian looked over at her, paused when she pressed her hands to his cheeks and held them behind his head. The kiss was a surprise and he pushed into it, his hands going up to hold her waist where he gently ran his thumbs along her sides. Maybe this wasn't really what either of them wanted. Maybe it was just them processing all the emotions wrong because he missed her so bad and in between being a boy and a man she was all he thought about. Still, Valerian gave Olive a small smile and closed his eyes before his hands ran up to her her chin to tug her closer for a deeper more thorough kiss.

Which was absolutely not why he was down here.

Gently he pulled away to same distance she had and he opened his eyes. "We're adults, not kids. We'll... We'll know when it's too much, right?"

Olive's hands moved upwards, lacing into his hair and holding the back of his head, pulling him close when he kissed her again. In that moment, her earlier doubts seemed far away. She thought clearly more of this was what she needed. Maybe that had been the problem, trying to deny themselves too much. And hadn't they both been denied enough already? In that moment, this was what she wanted. It seemed so clear to her right then. Of course it was. She was ready to tell him that maybe they could try to be less serious about it all, and let themselves have fun together again - they'd had some fun in the attic, hadn't they? In between the sniping and retelling of pasts?

But Vale's words when he pulled away stayed her tongue. Her eyes, shadowed a little with concern, searched his. "Vale," she said quietly, "it's okay okay with me, too, if this is too much. We can... we can set boundaries. If that's what you'll want." Then she paused a moment, and added to remind herself as much as him, "We'll always be friends."

"Boundaries?"

Valerian echoed tilting his head and his hands drifted up and down her sides lightly.  He smirked at her and fixed a piece of her hair that had come loose. "Who said anything about boundaries?" In a telling move of his strength he pulled Olive onto his lap with a quiet grunt, wrapping his arms around her middle and resting his head on her shoulder. "Boundries aren't any fun. I just meant... We know... What Dad and Grace have been telling us." He nuzzled his face into her neck and held her tighter.

He knew. It still sucked. "And of course we'll always be friends. I can't think of much that would ruin it." Valerian looked thoughtful for a moment, "can you think of anything?"

Olive let out a squeak of surprise when he moved her. But she was smiling despite the surprise. Taking advantage of the fact that she was wearing trousers, she swung get far leg over him so she was facing him, a knee pressed into his ribs on either side.

She gave him a relieved smile, placing her hands on his shoulders. When they weren't fighting, being with him almost felt like being home. How could she not want that?

"Well, I think you're imaging that Grace has been saying nicer things than she has been," she said with a little laugh. Then her hands moved up to where his shoulders met his neck. "But your dad's right. I can't give you those things."

But that didn't mean she couldn't give him anything. People had lovers. Instead of or in addition to spouses. That wasn't unheard of. If that was what happened. To illustrate her point, she pulled herself closer against him, catching him in a deep, more forceful kiss.

Valerian pressed himself into the kiss, one hand going to her thigh simply to hold it and the other pressed against her back to hold her closer to him. His hands trailed up to rest at her lower back and he finally leaned back, tossing his head to the side to get his hair out of his eyes.

"I know you can't, Olive." And it hurt to admit. Even now. Most of all to her. He gave her another quick kiss, his hands drawing along her sides much like the 'dust bunnies' from the attic had. Then he leaned back, "Grace says mean things about me?" He finally asked, pretending to look offended, "Why, I never."

Olive wrinkled her nose, smiling at his glib little comment. "Grace has actually been phenomenally nice to me since I returned. I suppose we shouldn't really give her such a hard time." She paused, before adding, "Whatever she thinks about this."

Whatever 'this' was.

Instead of dwelling on that, when he leaned back, she leaned into him, using one hand to push against a beer barrel behind him and keep herself propped up. She kissed him again, a proper, long kiss, pushing her weight into it. It seemed the more talk about things they couldn't do, the more she wanted to do the things she could.

Surprised at how much pressure she was putting onto him he blinked at her before he pushed back, tucking her as close as he could get her before he pulled his mouth away and looked at her. Cheeks flushed Valerian took a deep breath and just stared at Olive. This was different. This was...

One of his hands went into her hair and he kissed her again, holding her mouth to his while he leaned forward, his other hand at her waist. Finally he pulled back, his lips hovering over hers. "Hmm... People are only nice to me when they want something," He finally said against her lips, drawing her lower lip between his teeth for a moment before giving her another kiss, "Maybe Grace is trying to butter you up for something."

"No," Olive answered, relaxing a little in Vale's arms, "I think she cared deeply for my mother. And I'm all that's left of her." She thought for a moment, and smiled, asking, "What about those maids who brought you the 'girly romance novels' when you were healing? That was nice. What did they want from you, hm?"

At the mention of her mother Valerian's hands grew a little bit tighter around her, his thumbs brushed up and down her back and then she had to go and mention the books. "I was hoping you forgot about that," He pursed his lips and looked off to the side, blushing a little bit. "I dunno, I was topless all the time, maybe they wanted to see my chiseled godly chest?" And not the horrific scars on the back. Or see how beat up he was. Or to look at him with pity in their eyes.

"I certainly did not," she grinned. She scooted a bit closer to him, holding on tight to him with her legs. She kissed him briefly, then grinned at him again. "Sure," she laughed softly, "that was probably it."

She brought her hands to either side of his face, brushing her thumbs against his cheeks. "Going to get another talking to from your dad if you stay too long?"

"I think I have one under my pillow, I'll read it to you someday," He smirked and pressed his lips to hers when she kissed him, "Hey. I have a very nice chest. Drives ladies wild." Valerian gave his eyebrows a wiggle but the expression died and he looked away and sighed.

"Probably." He leaned in to steal another kiss - because why not? They were nice - His hands rested on her hips and rubbed his thumbs against her. "Do you want me to stay out of your business, Olive?" He finally asked, eyes searching hers, "At the very least be okay with me helping dad put the shipments away. He's getting old."

"I'll hold you to that," Olive grinned, "since you're the expert on all those books."

But her expression turned serious when his did. She was quiet, thoughtful for a long moment. "When you can help," she finally said, "I'll let you know." That would have to be enough for now. The more people involved directly, the riskier the operation was. The more obvious. But, "Maybe you can go to Baily's in the future, instead of your father. Probably more typical of you," she added teasingly, sticking her tongue out at him. Maybe his drinking wasn't the right thing to make fun of him about, but too late.

She kissed him, her hips responding to the pressure of his hands on them, pushing into him a little. But Bairn would be wondering. And she remembered with a pang of guilt that he'd only just warned Vale off her. Away from her. She pulled away from the kiss, pressing her cheek against his. "I guess we should all be heading back... I'll try to figure out when we can see each other again. I think the attic might be off limits after the other morning."

Valerian nipped at her tongue with his mouth, giving her a playful glare the whole while. It hurt on some level - she was right, he wasn't out of place at a tavern. The fact she knew about his little drinking problem stung but, it was done and he could get angry about it or let it go.

He'd soon find that he was enjoy the kisses too much, so when Olive finally pulled away and pressed her cheek to his, he groaned loudly and pressed his face to her neck, wrapping his arms soundly around her and closing his eyes. "Hey, if we get to see one another again... It'll be good. At least we know that it can happen now," He nuzzled into her neck, ran his hand up and down her back. It was like a dream. Olive was in his arms. She was here. He chuckled a little when she mentioned the attic and he gave the side of her neck a brief kiss.

"Knowing you're alive and close by is... Far better than anything else that's happened these past few years."

Olive felt her pulse quicken a little as she felt him groan against her neck. Instinctually, her legs clenched tighter against him. Yes, she thought, it was time to go. Before it was too late. Already she didn't want to, her hips pressing into his and a slow exhale escaping her as his face pressed against her neck. No, she didn't want to return to her quarters at all now, she wanted to stay here with him and...

'At least know that it can happen now.'

Those words, though, rang strangely in her head. They could what.. Oh. Internally, Olive paused. Somehow, what she felt right now in the moment, what she wanted now, and talking about the future as though they'd agreed to be... She didn't know. A flutter of doubt flitted through her. Had she committed to something? Well, yes, she supposed. She had. Sort of. And that was what she wanted, right?

She stopped thinking about it when he kissed the side of her neck, causing a soft whimper from her throat. She barely even heard what he said next. She knew she should get off of him, knew she should sneak upstairs, let Vale go back to the stables, but instead she kissed him again, but with more need, more pressure, leaning her weight into the kiss.

So close.

Valerian's eyes widened slightly at the intensity of the kiss and he ran his hands up and down her back before he pulled away. Pressing his forehead to hers. "Hey," He said softly, his hands drifting up and down her back gently. He gave her a quick kiss but leaned back, moving his hands to her neck and then around the front of her to gently brush his calloused rough thumbs against her cheeks.

"I don't want you rushing into anything," He smirked at her, brushing his thumb over her lower lip, "I'll be here forever." Another kiss and he moved his hands to Olive's hips again, drawing his hands gently over her thighs. Though he made no move to pull away or to push her off of him, if anything he changed his seating to draw her legs further apart.

In Olive's experience, men always talked far too much. It was, frankly, annoying. Even if now the words were coming from her oldest friend. Even if there was probably wisdom behind them, even if he was wrong. If she'd learned anything from the war, it was that nothing was forever.

She answered his concerns with another kiss, just as intense as the last had been. Her hips rolled into his touch, adjusting to press against him when he shifted his weight. It was also a little annoying. 'He didn't want to rush her into anything.' As though she were some blushing maid with no idea where this path led. But since he had put it that way, she didn't stop to think about whether or not she was rushing him.

Her lips only left his to move to his jaw, the space beneath his ear, then down his neck. He was wrong. Nothing was forever. Least of all this moment. And Olive didn't want to wait until it'd passed.

The moment of truth passed by and Valerian drew in a breath when Olive didn't turn away. Didn't make any quips. Instead she just kissed him harder, ground against him and he found himself out of breath. It was all caught in his throat. He pulled her closer, pressed her down against him. Gently his fingers plucked at her shirt so he could pressed his hands to the flesh at her sides while he nibbled at her ear. Get caught up in the moment Vale. Don't worry about the scars. It's Olive. She won't care about what your back looks like if she's too focused on what's at the front.

His hands drew up under her shirt, one hand moving to cup her breast while the other drew up along her spine. He wanted to ask questions. Make sure it was alright. Make sure that he wasn't moving too fast or making her feel uncomfortable. He knew though, that she'd just kiss him to make him shut up. So, instead he went for it, drawing down to give her neck a gentle bite while he pushed her shirt up.

Vale was right. She didn't want to answer any questions. The last thing she wanted to do was stop and think. Stopping to think would just lead to... stopping. And she didn't want to do that, either. She wanted to grab this moment, this moment before she could think. Because they were all right: Bairn, Grace, the cook. There was no future for a stableboy and a noblelady, even if the lady was a mage. Even if up until a month ago, she'd forgotten that she was a noblelady.

She just wanted this. Now. It had been a long time. Not since with the sniveling Templar in the cave. (Olive didn't stop to wonder if perhaps she had a pattern of poor impulse control!) A low moan released from her throat when his hand found her breast, and she helped him remove her shirt. He wasn't the only one the war left with scars. Along her own back he'd be able to feel the raised scar tissue where she'd been beaten for protecting the priest who had later betrayed her. But she didn't think about that. Or about the fact that the war had left her thin and bony. She didn't think at all.

Instead she caught him in another kiss, hungrier than the last, grinding her hips into his groin, pushing against the cool touch of his hands on her bare flesh.

The shirt was off and he pressed kisses to her shoulder and neck while his hands pulled her closer and trailed along her back. The familiar feeling of scars. Unable to stop thinking Valerian just wanted her to feel good and if this helped then... What was the harm? She was so tiny. She'd always been small but now she was tiny. A few moments of stolen pleasure. Valerian wrapped his arms around her and held her tight while she pressed her lips to his again.

Still, he was hesitant. His hands didn't stray from her upper half except to press her as close as he could get her and he made no move to pull off his shirt or undo his pants, though he did grind back against her and kiss her back with as much hunger as she kissed him. He wanted this. Valerian had wanted this since she'd kissed him before she left. Now he just wasn't sure how to go about getting it, even though she was already seated on his lap. 

As much as Olive wanted to ignore everything and lose herself in the moment, in him, in what was growing between them, even she couldn't help but notice that something was off. She tried to ignore the hunch, kiss him harder, pull at his shirt to loosen it from his trousers. But in the end, she couldn't, and Olive broke the kiss, pulling away only enough that she could look at Vale. Her legs were still clenched tightly around him, her hands on his shoulders, her eyes trying to make contact with his.

"Vale," she said softly, still panting lightly. "You don't want this, do you."

It wasn't really a question. Maybe it was a little. But Olive feared she already knew the answer.

"I do." He drew his hands up and down her back gently, giving his head a shake before he looked into her eyes. An oddly shy smile was on his face, his cheeks were flushed. "I do," He leaned in to press his forehead to hers, eyes closing. "I just..." He gave her another kiss, fingers trailing the scars along her back absentmindedly while he tried to think of the words.

"You're all I've wanted but never been allowed to have since... Since you kissed me when we were kids" He gave a dry laugh, tucking his face against her neck. "I don't want to screw up," He kissed her collar bone, gave a sheepish smile against her shoulder, "I want it to be a nice memory." Because, eventually, that would be all they got. A memory of stolen sweet moments like this one. A careful breath and he pulled his hands away, tugging at his shirt before he whipped that off himself to toss it down beside hers. The burns were obvious now, climbing around his chest and over his shoulders.

"I do want this. I want this more than..." He shook his head and then leaned back to give her a look, "Booze." And then he stuck his tongue out at her.

Olive caught that proffered tongue in a kiss; but a gentler one than the urgent, thoughtless ones minutes ago had been. It was only short, and she broke it to smile at him. Smile at his shy smile. He was right. This should be a nice memory, not a hurried regret.

Her eyes glanced down at the bare skin of his chest, his shoulders and arms. But only for a moment before she ran her hands over the muscles there. Then, wrapping her legs around him tightly, she pulled them together and caught him in another kiss; passion and need returning to this one, heightened by the feel of their bare skin against each other. Her hands, wandered down his sides, then around to his back, her finger tips digging into his shoulder blades as she pulled herself as tightly against him as she could. She pulled out of the kiss, her mouth moving to bite gently at his ear, rolling her tongue over the sensitive skin there, before moving down his neck, kissing him hotly and pushing her body against his, into his, stoking the growing heat between them.

A smile.

Valerian's shy smile turned into a grin and his dug his finger tips into her back to pull her as close as he could and before long his fingers were slipping into the back of her pants. It would be a nice memory. A lovely moment to look back on and sigh and he'd known he'd got to taste her. Got to hold her. A thing, he knew, he'd regret not even trying to do. If he was cause for Olive to have one blissful moment, he'd be happy. Though, it wasn't like he wasn't getting the same in turn. His mouth was pressed to her cheek and he ground himself up against her while he pressed wet kisses to her neck.

He wanted to reassure her. Ask her if what he was doing was okay, but before long he was pushing at her pants with one hand and palming her breast with the other. He didn't want this so much as he just wanted her. The girl he wasn't allowed to have. The girl he grew up with. The girl he loved unconditionally. He pulled away for a moment to press his mouth to her ear while he pulled her tighter against him to grind against her harder, "I want you," he panted, nuzzling against her cheek, "Can I have you?"

Olive panted and whimpered against him. That grin. This boy. Her earlier misgivings were melting away; she felt happy. She wanted this. She wanted him. If not forever, then at least right now.

'Can I have you?'

Olive pulled away from him, just enough, and cupped her hands to either side of his face. She brought his head up so she could look at him, her green eyes gazing clearly at his brown. She held his gaze for a moment, then leaned forward to kiss him more softly, caring. When she pulled away, she answered, "Only if I can have you."

And when she kissed him again, it was deeply and with need, pushing her entire body into it. Her hands slid down his side until they reached his trousers, thumbs hooking into the waist as they moved forward to the fastenings.

"I'm all yours," He whispered against her mouth, drawing her lower lip between his teeth while she worked at the fastenings of her trousers. Everything was so warm and his hands moved down to hers, to catch her hands and he undid the ties himself, lifting up slightly to push them down his thighs. The fastening of his fake leg were visible and for a fleeting moment he felt embarrassed, but that was quickly forgotten about because now he was mostly naked and he had the girl of his dreams on his lap.

Who had time to be embarrassed?

To distract himself he trailed kisses down her chest, catching her breast to his mouth to pass his tongue over her nipple before taking it into his mouth. He was at her breasts while he pushed at her pants, eager to free her from them and hold her to him. Just tonight. They could have tonight. A moment of emotions. One nice memory. They couldn't get married and they couldn't parent children together but... They could have this. They could have a nice memory. A heated moment that they could keep a secret.

Unfortunately, his brain wasn't working the whole way and even though her pants were undone, they wouldn't go down any farther because her legs were so far apart. He found himself leaning back and grinning, glaring down at her pants before looking at her with a pleading look with the silly smile on his face.

Olive whimpered against him, a thrill going through her when his hands joined hers working to free him from his trousers. She let him take over, her hands smoothing over his chest while he undid the trousers and pushed them down. Truth be told, Olive was a little relieved that he had done it himself. She wasn't embarrassed about his leg - she was just glad he'd only lost that - but she'd been concerned about how to navigate the situation without embarrassing him. She didn't want him to think that she thought any less of him. She wanted him to know that she saw him no differently; well, no differently because of that.

In the heat of the moment, she did see him differently than she had when they were kids.

Olive's back arched into the feel of his mouth against her breast, distracting her from the business of removing her own trousers. That was, until he leaned back. And there it was again, that grin. Unwittingly, Olive found herself mirroring that grin. It was so familiar. It was the same grin he'd always had, and in that moment she felt a pang of love for him. What kind of love, she wasn't sure. Genuine, deep. Her grin broadened, and she leaned forward to give him a brief kiss. Then she extracted herself from him, standing to pull off her trousers.

When she was done, she crawled back into his lap. Now her heart was pounding, her body pleasantly tense. Because now here she was, naked, in his lap. After all these years. Heat pooled within her, between her legs, and she quivered as she positioned herself on top of him now, her sex poised above his.

The grin. His own widened when she returned it and he was struck by just how beautiful she was. Honestly it wouldn't have mattered if she was missing an eye or was missing half her hair. That grin on her face, the one that mirrored the one he couldn't help but have. It made her beautiful and Valerian let out a gently sigh, though he tensed slightly when she pulled away, even though her leaving was after a kiss.

Valerian had found that he could probably kiss her forever.

When her pants were off and she was back on his lap his breath hitched. His hands were on her thighs and he gently rubbed at them before dipping a hand between her legs, drawing his fingers over her sex and kissing her deeply while he circled his thumb over her clit and gently tested her with his fingers. His pulse was raging and he pressed his lips to hers before he leaned back and moved his hands to her hips and gently pulled her down onto him. Valerian wanted to watch her face when she took him in. His thumbs gently drew over her sides while he urged her on, moving from her hips to her thighs and back again.

Olive returned his kiss urgently, a stifled moan pressed against his mouth as his hand explored her. She was left a little breathless when he pulled out of the kiss, but she let him guide her hips down onto his. Olive's breath caught when she felt him hard against her entrance, hesitating for just a moment before letting her hips sink down onto his. She bit her lip, eyelids fluttering, stifling another moan as he filled her. After all, they were only in the beer cellar, an unlocked and moderately accessible room, if one heard a noise and was inclined to investigate.

But she didn't think very long about that. Once she'd taken all of him inside of her, she stole him in a deep, possessive kiss. It wouldn't occur to her until later, but in that moment Olive had finally left her past behind her, at least for a time. She wasn't thinking about Lorent and his tragic end, which she still felt responsible for, or about Harret and Schemler and the violence they had meted out against her, or any of it. It was just Vale. And by the time the kiss had ended, her hips were moving in a committed rhythm.

Knowing to be quiet, he could only sigh low when she finally seated herself on him. The kiss wasn't unexpected but it did catch him off guard and his hands drew up along her back, fingernails trailing along her spine. Valerian did his best to urge her on, giving jerks of his hips, using his hands to help with her rhythm. Before long his hands were at her hair, giving her gentle kisses to her cheeks.

Breath hot in her ear he nuzzled along her cheek, pressing kisses where he could reach. "Olive," He panted hotly at her neck, giving her a gentle bite. Now wasn't the time for words. They were too loud. In the heat of the moment they were also easily missed. Easily mistaken. Giving gentle squeezes Valerian simply stayed as silent as he could, breath hot against her ear while they moved.

Occasionally there was a hiss of air when it felt really good and he again, pressed his teeth to her neck before remembering himself and instead placing kisses before catching her mouth with his again.

Utterly lost in the moment, Olive wasn't sure how long their love-making went on; that, she had realized, was what it was. Not just a secret, stolen romp. But as the timeless moment drew on, the feel of Vale beneath her, within her, his hands on her body, his mouth at her neck was building a growing urgency within Olive, translated into her hips, which began to move faster and more forcefully.

She whimpered a stifled moan, biting her lip to keep herself quiet, and finally burying her face in the crook of Vale's neck, clutching tightly to his shoulders. She took in his scent, the feel of his skin, the touch of his hair as she climaxed, her body shuddering strongly against him, her sex clenching and spasming around his.

Doing his best to keep quiet he caught he face and pressed his lips to hers while she shuddered on his lap. Sweat beaded along his back and he moved his hands to her hips, pressing his tongue to her mouth while he lifted her and brought her down a few more times before he too, reached his peak. There were no thoughts beyond Olive and he held her tightly, pressing kisses to her lips before he pressed his forehead to hers and tried to catch his breath.

Another quick kiss and his arms trembled, trailing up and down her back gently before he grinned at her. Pressing their noses together. There was no room for words, he could only smile at her and give sleepy blinks while he held her atop his lap, trembled slightly and nuzzled at her cheek.

Olive returned his smile, but only briefly. Her own smile lasted just a moment, then faltered. Her body still clammy and trembling, she pulled herself tight against him, burying her face in the crook of his neck. This was just a moment. And it was over. Olive didn't want to return to reality; where she was a prisoner, and Vale was a stableboy. Where she was a mage and a criminal, but also a lady and a standard flown to bolster the Duke's position. Where Vale was crippled by the war, and glossed over his pain with alcohol. Where neither of them were the people they used to be, and never could be again.

She wanted to stay here. And, suddenly, she felt very vulnerable.

"I don't want to go back. Let's run away," she murmured into his neck. "Let's be different people, in a different land. And just take this with us."

She didn't mean it, of course. Except for the first bit. But she really, really wanted to.


[[OOC: Sorry this post is a little over-dramatic treacly!]]

It was strange, to feel his heart breaking all over again. Once before when the reality set in that they were just too different to be together. Not emotionally. Not personality wise. Simply because of the stations they were born to. Now, it was breaking for a whole new reason. Valerians arms tightened around her and while the sweat cooled, he kept warm, holding Olive as close to himself as he could. His hand went to her hair and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, heart still thumping.

"I don't want to go back either," He said softly, hands running up and down her back.

"You'd hate yourself. You'd hate me if we ran away," Then he leaned back again, moving to tip her chin up so he could smile at her, "If we had... If we had done this in the attic, and you had said that... I'd steal you away, we'd go to Serendipity and we'd... Have bushels of children and ... grow hops or whatever your book was about." A sad smile, "You have something important to do here Olive. Something no one else can do."

A lingering kiss to her lips and he pulled her closer for a long moment, going quiet and simply enjoying the contact.

His words weighed on her like a sack of stones on her chest. 'You have something important to do here. Something no one else can do.' She almost cried. But she didn't. She met his eyes with what felt like a suffocating sadness. It was as if she suddenly became aware of just how much she had lost, and what she was losing still. When she had been here last, she'd been the daughter of two healthy, living parents. Her father had multiple heirs. She'd been far from the 'Last Carwick.' And now that they were gone - her parents, Avery, Caspian - after she'd been turned out and stripped of her dignity and title, didn't she deserve this? Deserve to run away with the little that was left of her life, and start over?

But no, Vale was right. She didn't. And she couldn't.

There, in the beer cellar, even with her body still flush against Vale's, Olive felt very small. Very alone.

Her eyes had wandered downwards, heavy with the thoughts in her head, when she suddenly looked up at Vale. "Vale," she asked hesitantly, "did you want me, because you couldn't have me? Or," she brushed her bangs back, hearing how silly the question sounded, how girlish and self-conscious and, well, trivial - but it felt very important to her just then, "or just... because it was me?"

She paused for a moment, earnest. Then added, "You can be honest."

"Did?"

Valerian shook his head, "I do want you Olive." A slight confusion on his face but he shook his head to keep the hair from his eyes. "I want to run away with you. I would do it in a heartbeat if I knew we wouldn't regret it." His hands moved up and down her back in attempts to sooth. "It's you Olive. Not because I couldn't have you. I've loved you since we were kids. I loved the girl that left and I love the girl that's come back." He pressed a kiss to her cheek and he gently passed his thumb over her lips.

"Do you think I did this with you to... Prove something to someone?" He whispered, tilting his head, "Did you not want this?" Valerian's voice got low and he looked at her, concerned.

“No, of course I-” Olive stopped short, looking down in mild embarrassment. “Of course I didn’t think you were trying to ‘prove anything,’ you’d just said -” She stopped again and sighed. Her eyes stayed down for a moment, her cheeks slightly flushed. She was being silly. When she looked back up at Vale, it was with a small smile. “Just checking, I guess. These days, it seems like nobody wants me for being ‘just Olive.’”

And with that answer, with the small, pained smile, she closed the open emotional door and shut her vulnerability away again. Back to business-as-usual Olive, with all her doubt and sadness locked up inside.

She smiled at him again, a bit less reservedly now, a bit of a grin. “Your dad’s going to wonder where you’ve been, Valerian Reine. You’re set to get another talking to.”

"I want you for being 'just Olive'." He pressed his forehead to hers, eyes shut. "No matter what else, you're... Just Olive."  Valerian then, at the mention of his father. Turned beet red and gave a quiet chuckle and pressed his forehead to hers, "Please don't mention my father when I'm inside you," he whispered, looking at her, finally bashful. Looking over her shoulder at her clothing he gave her a quick kiss on the lips and... Took a breath and then stared at her for a long moment. "I... I..." He looked down at her and blinked a few times like the thought just struck him.

"I forgot to..."

Perhaps there were some personality differences born out of the differences in their respective stations. Because while Valerian was embarrassed by talking about his father and sex openly, now that the moment of unguarded emotion had passed, Olive was embarrassed by his open statements about how he felt. She was glad that his forehead was against hers and that he wasn't looking at her. And it wasn't lost on her that he'd said both that he loved her and that he'd wanted her, and neither statement had been returned by Olive.

She hadn't even answered when he'd tried to ask if she had wanted what had just happened between them.

But his words brought her out of those thoughts, and she blinked at him. It took half a moment before she realized what he meant. In her desperateness, she'd also forgotten about that. "Oh," she said. And then, hoping that it was true, "I, I can take care of that." She just hoped she could find the right things, and she'd have to come up with some excuse to get them... But 'how to prevent an unwanted pregnancy' had been a lesson every woman in the camps learned, either for herself or a friend.

She gave him a small, reassuring smile and a quick kiss. Then she extracted herself from his lap. They couldn't stay down here forever, and Olive felt herself more and more wanting to be alone. Did she regret this? Pulling on her trousers, she threw him a bolder grin. "Am I allowed to tease you about your Dad lecturing you now?"

The fact she hadn't returned any of his words wasn't lost on him. There was no hurt feelings though. Living a life without regrets was slowly becoming more and more important to him as time went on. Telling the people he loved just that wasn't something he was about to be ashamed of. When Olive finally removed herself from his lap he was quick to fix his pants and lean down to scoop up his shirt, though he didn't put it on.

Valerian did stand up however and poked his tongue out at her before rolling his eyes. A hand scratched at his stomach and he gave a full body shudder, giving Olive an appreciative look before a sated smile was on his face.

"Yeah. Tease away." Looking around he rolled his shoulders and slowly pulled his shirt on, once again keen on hiding his scars.

“Nah, I don’t actually like to think of your dad warning you off me,” Olive said as she pulled her clothes back on. “Hard not to take personally, even when I know he means well.” Even when, of course, he was right. Olive looked over at Vale as she undid the now tellingly sloppy bun of her hair and began to retwist it into a new bun. She felt rather conscious that she had somehow given less of herself in this interaction than he had. It wasn’t that she didn’t love him, she did. Of that she was certain. But how those words could be interpretted in a moment like this… That Olive was less sure about. Just as she was unsure herself about how she actually felt about Vale. Vale who until a week ago she thought she’d never see again. It was all going very fast.She didn’t want to say that she loved him, and have him hear that she was in love with him. Her feelings on it were changing just as quickly.

She’d felt doubtful just moments ago, but looking up at him now, with that dopey smile, filled her with a deep affection. Was that love? Or was it just familiarity, fondness, and the comfort that went along with it? Was there a difference?

Rather than ponder the answer, she closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms lightly around his neck, standing on her toes now that they were both on their feet to gently kiss him. “I want to see you again,” she said, the words coming out before she was sure she meant it. The implication being, of course, not just to wave in the store room. “I think Grace has told a guard to keep his eyes out in the corridor where your entrance to the attic was. But I guess we can’t keep meeting in the beer cellar.”

Valerian felt his heart speed up.

I want to see you again.

He was sure it wasn't so that he could braid her hair. The kiss was returned with vigor, his fingers pressing her to him where he could pull her and he pulled away. Brief eye contact and he just smiled at her. It was nice. This had been nice.

"Well. We don't need to rush anything," He said softly, brushing hair from her face. "I mean... Where are we going to go that's away from here?"

In the next week had allowed a handful more chances for Olive and Vale to meet. At first Olive's indecisiveness, her flopping emotions, continued, but it had been easing into comfort. And maybe even happiness. She knew Vale in a way that she didn't know anyone anymore, and he really knew her. And cared about her. And he was right: they weren't going anywhere. There was no rush. No cause to worry. She could just.... be happy. Grace, she thought, suspected, but only gave Olive one oblique lecture about it all.

In the last days, however, the Keep had been overflowing with rumors. But not about the odd Lady Carwick and the crippled stablehand. Word was flying: the thief (http://www.spiritsoftheearth.net/smf/index.php?topic=16365.msg177879#msg177879) who had caused so much trouble around the castle the year before had returned. And with a child! A child she claimed was Duke Therrien's. If that weren't shocking enough, the thief and the baby were being kept in the Keep. Being served upon as though they were honored guests! At least, that's what the servants grumbled. And the counselors were talking, too. Duke Therrien was now harboring a foreign thief that claimed to have birthed his bastard, while his rival Lord Kennins had a proper noble Connlaothian wife, three healthy sons, and a daughter. What should the people think? Who should they look to for stability in Wulfbauer?

Those rumors swirled for a few days before new rumors arrived: The Duke was to engaged to marry Constance Carwick! That caused a whirlwind of talk, good and bad. She was a mage. She was a hostage. But, in the end, she was a Carwick. And Duke Therrien marrying her would continue the bloodline that had ruled the duchy for more centuries than anyone could remember.

Olive, meanwhile, was still left in a stupor. The reality of what she'd agreed to hadn't really seeped in yet. It was just an arrangement. Just a 'fix.' A political workaround to a political problem. The most feasible option to give a sense of stability to Duke Therrien's rule. It was all of those things, she knew, but it was also real. And even though she couldn't help but thinking of it all in quotes - she was 'engaged'; Erwin was her 'betrothed'; soon they would be 'married' - she knew she couldn't keep pretending it was fake.

And she needed to talk to Valerian.

To her embarrassment, she put the task off for two days after Erwin first 'proposed' their 'marriage.' Finally, on the third morning, she got up and instead of dressing in her normal attire, she put on her riding clothes. At least her 'engagement' left her with more freedom of movement. She could, finally, leave the Keep without being escorted by a guard. She might as well take advantage of that, at least. So, steeling herself for the task at hand, she took a deep breath and headed down to the stables.

She found Vale busy, hard at work. She leaned her shoulder against the doorframe and watched him, undetected for a moment, feeling her chest tightening. Finally, after what felt like a long, long moment, she cleared her throat.

"I was wondering... could you take me riding?"

Valerian was jolted out of his thoughts violently by Olive's voice.

The last thing he'd expected was for her to be out here and so the bale of hay he was moving was thrown from his hands and slid down across the ground. Wide eyes stared after it for a moment like it had betrayed him but he gave a surprised laugh and dragged it back, waving a hand at Olive in a 'just a minute' gesture before he went and retrieved it carefully putting it in the place he had intended.

It occurred to him then that he was topless and there was a fine sheen of sweat on his chest before he looked to Olive and retrieved his shirt, though he didn't put it on.

"Riding?"

Flushed from the work he tilted his head at her and smiled. While Olive had been having an interesting week, Valerians was... Mostly the same. Though the added time with Olive had kept him perky - for more than one reason. It was an easy relationship he fell into. Knowing the limitations of what they were allowed.

"Of course... Right now though?" He eyed her outfit and then looked down at himself and his shirt, "Give me five minutes? I can saddle up your horse after I... Uh... Mop myself off," Valerian smiled and rose his eyebrows, questioning, "Unless you don't mind me smelling like sweaty horses."

Olive watched him with a small, patient, and slightly sad smile. She didn't rush him. She didn't want to. Her smile broadened a little when he lost control of the hay bale. Again, she felt her chest tighten. A flare of affection for him. She felt her conviction waiver. But what choice did she have? She could run from the stables, and just never talk to him again. That, she guessed, was really the only other option. Olive didn't like either option. Or the situation that forced her to choose between them.

"Well, I may as well take advantage of my new broader freedoms," she muttered, half to herself, as Vale hauled the hay bale. Then louder, to him, she said, "I don't mind waiting." And added, smiling a smile that made her nose crinkle, "I don't mind you smelling like sweaty horses, either. I'm used to it."

There was a shocked gasp and Valerian wasn't sure if he should be offended or not. Pulling on his shirt he gave a shrug, "Suit yourself!" A quip and a quick smile and he pushed a hand through his dark hair. It was unusual to see Olive outside and he gave a glance behind her, looking for guards of some sort. A hesitant look at her clothing to confirm she didn't have any bags or anything.

"Just a ride, hmm?" His hands on his hips he looked towards the stable. "Want to ride your horse?"

Olive watched him carefully, guardedly, wondering what he was thinking. It hadn't really occurred to her that Vale might be so far outside of the castle's gossip circle that he might not know why she was here. And why she was here alone. And her lack of guard wasn't the only thing that was different about her today. Three days ago, alone with him for this long, Olive probably would have kissed him by now. Or at least gone to his arms. (Even if he did smell like a sweaty horse). Today, she hadn't moved yet from the doorway. She'd done nothing to lessen the distance between them. And her body language, too, was more closed. More reserved.

"Just a ride," she answered, mustering a small smile. Her face brightened a little, though, at his second question. She'd only seen her horse, a black mare whose only marking was a white star on her head, once since she'd returned. When she'd been taken to visit her parents' graves. She'd be glad of the horse's familiar company today, and she nodded to Vale, her smile spreading to her eyes.

There was little Valerian didn't catch. Being a servant had taught him to keep his tongue to himself when he could because everyone was listening. The few times he'd spoken out of turn the maids had gossiped and it was just a total nightmare, something he had never wished to repeat simply because it had been annoying.

Her smile caught him off guard. It had been a while since he'd seen a real smile from her and he returned a bright grin.

So, he made a motion with his hand for her to follow him and he led her to the stall of her horse before leaving her there to gather the various tack. A blanket. The saddle. Bridle. It was a few minutes before he returned, holding the saddle in his arms before placing it on a bench.

"Did you want to brush her down first?" Valerian asked quietly. Usually it was his job - brush down the horse, get it ready for all the riding activities. "I may or may not have spoiled her completely." He confessed quietly.

"I can do it," Olive answered him without looking at him. Her eyes were on the horse, her hand against her velvet nose. It was almost like going back in time, being here with Searchlight and Vale. She threw him a grateful smile at his 'confession,' though. "Somehow that doesn't surprise me." A pause, then, in earnest, "Thank you, Vale."

She took the brush, then looked at Vale again. "You get a horse ready for yourself. I don't want to ride alone."

Partly, Olive was happy to brush down and saddle Searchlight herself. But she also didn't want to spend too much time before getting around to her purpose. She did, and she didn't. She wanted to drag out the 'before telling him' forever. But she knew she couldn't. And she didn't want to lose her nerve. And she'd noticed, at this point, that he wasn't acting like she'd expected him to. He wasn't acting like he'd already heard...

A nod and Valerian went about setting up his own horse. While it wasn't personally his horse, it was just as good. Soft words were given to the dark brown mare, her black mane shining in the sunlight. The horse nipped at his shirt and he tugged it away before it ripped, grinning at the horse.

Her name was, appropriately, Princess.

Giving her the same treatment Searchlight was getting, before long she was saddled and Valerian had hefted himself up onto her back, giving her neck scratches and nudging her along towards Olive. "Ready when you are," He gave Princess a nudge and licked his lips, looking off into the distance at the sky. He couldn't remember the last time they'd gone riding together.

A bright smile was towards Olive and he sat up straighter, shoulders back.

Despite the lack of a leg, he looked at home on top of a horse as ever.

"Let's go up to Caerith's Seat," Olive suggested once they were both mounted and out of the stables. It was a high overlook with the best view of the region, a bit more than a half hour's ride. Legend held that it was where the first Carwick duke of Wulfbauer first took his throne, but no one knew for sure. It was mostly a forgotten place now, and one they'd gone to often as kids.

She didn't quite manage to return his smile. Alone with him now, with him acting so normal, so oblivious, Olive felt sick. A nauseating mixture of love for him, whatever kind, and dread at what she had to say. And guilt. Though she wasn't entirely certain why. Or maybe she was, and she just was keeping it out of her mind.

"It's been quite the past few days," she said cautiously, testing the waters, as they road. "I don't think there was ever half as much drama when we were kids." Her eyes watched him carefully, looking for any sign of what he might think. He couldn't really have not heard, right? Maybe he had and be was trying to act normally for her benefit? Olive could only hope....

It took a good deal of effort not to cry out 'race you'.

Valerian looked over at Olive and smiled at her again, giving a careful swallow and looking ahead while they rode. His hand was mostly brushing along the horses neck and he closed his eyes for a moment, just listened to nature and the steady breathing of the horses and Olive. Finally he opened his eyes and let out a sigh.

"Drama?" He gave his head a curious tilt, looking over his shoulder at Olive - he was ahead by just a little bit to 'clear the way'. It seemed like the gentlemanly thing to do! "Of course there wasn't as much drama when we were kids," Valerian smiled again at her, "We were kids. We were just... Around. Now we get to participate." There was a pause and he gave a shrug, "At least you do."

'Now we get to participate... At least you do.'

Olive felt those words like a smack across the face. She looked at Vale for a moment, eyes wide, stung. Then her gaze dropped down to her reins, cheeks coloring a little. "Yeah," she muttered, "I guess I do."

He must know, then. He must know, and be angry at her. 'At least you do.' It wasn't like she wanted to. It wasn't like she wanted to have been born a noblelady, and him a stablehand. It wasn't fair for him to hold that over her. She felt her face heat while those thoughts ran through her mind. Then it occurred to her. Maybe the way he was acting - like nothing was wrong, nothing was unusual - was some form of punishment. As if her becoming a duchess, ending whatever they had... had, was no skin off his back. Just what he expected all along.

That didn't quite feel right, either, but Olive's doubts were drowning out her reason. And she hung back, letting Vale be the 'gentleman' and ride ahead. Something she never would have done before. She would have been racing him, forcing her way in the front. But now she did neither. She stared at the black hair of Searchlight's mane without looking at the horse at all, wondering if she'd made a big mistake coming here at all.

Then she went quiet.

Valerian frowned slightly down at his horse before he turned to look at her, slowing down slightly so they were closer together and he reached out a hand to gently ghost over her arm. "I didn't mean that in a bad way," He said frowning at how defeated she looked.

"Olive?" He leaned towards her, ducking and trying to look at her face, "I just... Meant that ... You're home. You're an adult now. You're nobility." Valerian shrugged and tried to smile, though it faltered because she looked so sad, "That whole nobility thing seems to come with drama in spades, y'know?"

Drama in spades. Why did he say it so matter-of-factly? She was pretty sure there had been no bastard children, no crisis-averting engagements, no kept mistresses and thieves when her father was duke. But, she knew, none of it was unheard of amongst the noble families in general. Maybe he was right. Maybe she shouldn't have expected anything different.

But still. She was mad at him for not... what? Caring more. For being so sanguine, so stoic about it. As much as she didn't want him to hurt, part of her wanted him to hurt... a little. If only because she did. Was that wrong?

And did he have to keep shrugging?

"Sure," she answered, tensing when he reached out to touch her. "I guess you're right." Her voice was tense with a mixture of hurt and anger, and she still didn't look at him. She urged Searchlight on a bit to get ahead of Vale. Had she been naive to think he'd be upset? After all, they'd known they could never be... Oh, she didn't know.

Even if he wasn't upset, she'd thought he'd at least let her be. She hadn't expected the same, 'Well, this is your position and your responsibility, so it doesn't matter what you wanted' that she got from Grace.

Valerian sighed and did his best to keep up with her.

"Olive, What's wrong?"

Frowning as he followed after her, "You've been quiet and weird and you haven't even kissed me." Not that he expected kisses but they had turned into... A thing. Like hugs. A simple little thing he didn't really notice himself missing until there was just... Nothing.

"Are you okay?" Then he paused for a moment and gently frowned at her, "You're not pregnant, are you?"

Olive’s hurt and annoyance had been simmering into anger as she rode ahead of Vale. A shorter temper was one of the traits she’d been left with from the war, and his complaint that she ‘hadn’t even kissed him’ stoked it into a flare. It wasn’t really anger just at him - or even really mostly at him - but he’d made himself the target of it now.

She turned her horse suddenly so that she blocked Vale’s path, and Olive finally looked at him, glaring hard. But it was clear that just below the surface of the angry glare, she was upset.

“Of course I haven’t!” she snapped at him. “You can’t scold me that I’m ‘an adult and I’m noble’ and I should just expect to be involved in whatever ‘drama’ goes along with that, like it’s no big fucking deal. And then complain that I haven’t kissed you, Vale.”

She glared at him for a moment, face tight, frowning. “No, I’m not pregnant,” she finally answered. “But that’s the point, isn’t it? He might keep fucking that thief, for all I know, but it’s different for me. I can’t… I can’t even risk the rumors that I might get pregnant from someone else.”

Much less a stableboy. But she didn’t say that.

"I wasn't scolding you!" Valerian snapped back, looking as confused as he felt.

Again. Everything wrong was coming out of his mouth again and if he wasn't so confused he would have been entertained. A little bit. A very little bit.

Then the pieces fell together and he just stared at her for a long moment, visibly going pale. "Fucking the... What?" He leaned in slightly, looking away after a moment. Rumors? Then his heart sped up because now it made some sort of sense. The drama she spoke about. While he tried to puzzle out just what the hell was going on, his fingers were in his hair and he frustratingly fisted it.

Then it clicked.

"Oh my God, Olive."  Why would she care if the duke was screwing someone? Someone else.

"Olive." Her name was just about the only word he could say while he stared and took careful breaths.

"You're going to..." He'd joked about it in the attic. Saying he'd always be by her side, even if she married that duke. It was a joke then. It seemed so unlikely, such a far fetched idea that being her friend even then was a possibility. 

At least the snippets of rumors he heard were suddenly all making sense and he let his hands fall to his sides while he stared down at the mane on his horse. Fingers idly playing with the mares mane while he processed the information and put the puzzle pieces together.

Of course he knew it would happen. It was always going to happen. It had never been an option to not happen. It still felt final. Like the single lonely last nail into the top of a coffin. One fell swoop and it was closed and ready to be buried. Head still down, staring at the horses ears. Looking towards Searchlight like she'd be able to help calm him.

"I didn't know," He finally looked at Olive's face, giving his head a shake, "I'm so sorry." For her. For him. Mostly for her. Trapped here now like she was. Then he frowned at Olive, "What do you mean 'fucking that thief'? You'll be the duchess. Throw her goddamn ass out of your house."

This was not how she'd meant this conversation to go. She'd thought they'd have a calm conversation up at the Seat, with at least her staying collected. Maybe she'd imagined Vale would be upset, and she'd have to reassure him. Comfort him. She hadn't, perhaps egotistically, expected how upset she would be. And she certainly hadn't imagined it coming out in the mess this was turning out to be.

Did he really not know? Doubt flickered across her face, but she was still angry. Even if she wasn't angry at him, or maybe she was. She wasn't sure. Probably she was angry at everyone. She looked away, glaring at the distance, and feeling the heat of angry tears welling in her eyes.

"What?" When he suggested throwing Mae'leena out, the  mother of the Duke's bastard child, she looked back at him. Her expression more mixed now. Was that what he thought she was upset about? She didn't care if Erwin kept sleeping with the woman. Well, that wasn't true. Truth be told, she did, even if she didn't want to admit it. Being the 'wife' of a man with a known mistress was the fast track to pity from others. And Olive was tired of being pitied. But that wasn't... that wasn't the heart of it. It made the deal worse, but it was having to take the deal at all that had her on edge. At the edge.

"That's not..." she started trying to explain that, but gave up. Her point was that Erwin could fuck whoever he wanted to. Olive could not.

Olive looked away again, and sighed heavily. When she turned back to Vale, she looked deflated. "Did you really not know?"

"How would I know that?"

At least it explained the looks from the maids. The glances that were full of 'i want to tell you something' but.. Usually they got one word in and he was off doing something, generally uninterested in the going ons in the house. Why listen to rumors when you had a best friend who could tell you the real story?

He went quiet, staring down at the mane on his horse before he tried to smile at Olive. It was his job to... Be happy for her?

No.

He was angry. This was bullshit.

"This is bullshit. That guy is..." Valerian wrinkled his nose, wanting to say something not so nice... Unfortunately he'd never met the man beyond a few glances. "Olive, I didn't know." And now that he did. Now that he knew she was being... Married away. His heart broke for her long ago, but that same throbbing pain was back and he remained quiet, head down, staring at nothing.

Olive’s face dropped. He really hadn’t known. For once she wished he gossiped more around the house.

She frowned at his angry question. “I don’t know, I mean, people talk, Vale. I just thought…”

But she didn’t finish her sentence. And her frown deepened at his angry outburst. Somehow this didn’t feel much better than it had before. She felt helpless. What could she say to him? What could she do? She found her mouth moving before she’d really thought any of her words through.

“I mean, it’s not, it’s not like a real marriage,” she said, the last word dry in her mouth. “Lord Kenins has an established family, a noble wife, three sons, a beautiful little daughter. That looks like stability. Compared to an unmarried Duke keeping a bastard child and her mother. I’m… I’m a convenient, you know, solution, I guess.” Olive felt so uncomfortable. She felt like she was making excuses, listing the political reasons she'd agreed to the proposal. She felt, somehow, like she was disappointing him. “Marrying me, it… Well, distracts people, from that, and… Well, it gives a sense of stability, doesn’t it? Erwin Therrien’s line,” his legitimate line, that was, “will also be a Carwick line…”

Unease, Olive paced Searchlight back a little. She couldn’t tell if she was glad of the space being on horseback allowed them, or if she wished she could reach out and put a hand on his shoulder. She ran a hand through her hair, looking helplessly at him. She was silent for a long moment, then finally she said, “It’s the right thing to do.” But she looked thoroughly unhappy about it. At least right now. She tried to muster a little smile. “Like you said. I’m an adult. I’m a noble. I have…” Her smile faltered. “I have a role to fulfill.”

"You are an adult and a noble. Which makes this not just regular bullshit but fucking bullshit."  He was angry alright. Angry because she was being used as a pawn. His best friend. One of few people he loved unconditionally was being used because of the station she was born into. The name she was born into.

Angry wasn't even a stong enough word for what he was feeling.

"An unmarried duke keeping a bastard child and his mother isn't your fault, Olive. It's the fucker's fault for not keeping his bullshit in his pants. That isn't your mess to clean up or help sweep under the rug. He made his bed, why do you have to lie in it?" He wanted to hit something.

This wasn't what he wanted for Olive. A solution. "This is bullshit. Who gives a shit about 'Erwin Therrien's' line? Can't you just... Duchess him up and kick him and his circus out of your house?"

"It's not 'my' house anymore. It's his."

Olive frowned. Her anger had disappeared with the arrival of his. Now she was mostly... uncomfortable. She didn't want to have to explain this to him... It was one thing to convince herself, but it saying it all out loud to someone who cared about her?

And she didn't want to hurt him anymore. She didn't want to tell him that, current mess aside, she thought Erwin Therrien was a good man. That he could be a good duke. Even if she agreed with at least some of Valerian's words.

Instead she said, "My responsibility isn't to Erwin Therrien, Vale, it's to Wulfbauer. Of course if I can help provide stability for the duchy, I have to. Vale, I... I've benefited so much in the last five years just because of who I was. Because of my name. That doesn't come without a price." This was the price. She watched him, brow creased in concern. Guilt tugging at her stomach. She brushed back her bangs. "Think about it. Erwin Therrien has withdrawn the army from Calent's senseless war. He's stopped the deportation of mages, at least by Wulfbauer forces." He couldn't stop the rogue mage hunters that roved the country. "If Lord Kenins unseated him, he would end all of that in a heartbeat. The army would go straight back to Calent. He'd likely double down on purging any mages still remaining. You can bet your ass I would hang."

She swallowed, her eyes not leaving him. "If I can do somethign to prevent that, of course I have to."

A careful breath and he gave a numb sort of nod.

The words she said made sense. Which also made him angry.

"Did you agree to it? At least... At the very least tell me that you want to do this and that... No one is making you." A sigh. A quick look to her face before he looked back down.

How did she answer that?

No, of course she didn't want to do it. In truth, Olive didn't want to be in Wulfbauer at all. At least not here in the Keep. But she wouldn't say that to him again. It would hurt him, she knew, and the last time she suggested it, it'd only caused a fight.

Was someone making her? She had agreed, but could she really have refused? Olive wasn't sure. She supposed she couldn't, in the end, have refused in good conscience. But the fact that she had been something of a political captive at the point of the 'proposal' certainly wasn't lost on her.

"I want to do what's best for the duchy," she finally answered, her words obviously carefully chosen. What else could she say?

Valerian sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, letting his head dip forward.

"Olive," He frowned at her, nudging his horse forward. "I'm your friend. You can tell me the truth. Please." Eye contact. Valerian tried to search her face, settling on her lips.

Olive's shoulders slumped. What was she supposed to say?

"That is the truth," she said lamely. Of course it wasn't the entire truth. And in truth, she did want to talk to him about everything else she felt. About her frustrations and worries. How trapped she felt now.

But was it fair?

"Let's keep going up to the Seat," she finally said. Somehow it seemed like it'd be easier sitting down. Something about being on horseback made it feel so... confrontational.

"Alright..." Valerian sighed and ducked his head down.

Not really sure about how he was feeling. It was one of those things he knew was going to happen, maybe... Maybe not so soon. That part didn't feel so great. The ride to the sea was uneventful and quiet, stolen glances at Olive before slowly looking away. This was how it was always going to happen, right?

Would she ever get to just be... Happy? It wasn't her getting married to someone else that made him angry. It was that she wasn't going to be happy. Of all the people in the world, Vale wanted the best for Olive. He wanted her to be happy.

Maybe that just wasn't going to happen for her and beyond the selfish jealousy he felt his chest tighten.

"Olive?" He started quietly, "You know I'll always be here for you, right? I'm starting to sound like an echo but... I just want you to know, you can tell me anything. I'm sure you've realized I'm really bad at gossiping."

Vale's question came just as the pair reached the airy overlook of Caerith's Seat. With a sigh, Olive dismounted. She rubbed Searchlight's nose, then plopped down on the cool rock of the overlook. Sitting with her knees pulled up around her, she gazed out at the rolling countryside around Wulfbauer Keep.

"I know, Vale," she finally said, glancing up at him. She frowned, looking for the words she wanted. But she couldn't catch them. "You know..." she started, "you know, it's not what I'd choose for me. If I could... I mean, if we could..."

She let out a huff, and wrapped her arms around her knees, looking back over the countryside. She didn't finish her thoughts. She wasn't even sure she knew them in her head. Privately, she wasn't sure how she'd be able to face Vale once she was... Well, 'married.' It was one thing to tell herself that everything was fine, that the duchy was more important, and all that. And of course she believed that. But something about seeing him knowing that she'd spend her nights in the bed of a man who didn't really want her. A well-known womanizer with a child out of wedlock and a woman he kept - a woman who was, by what Olive could tell, approximately a thousand times more attractive and sexual than she was. How would she ever be able to face him?

There was a sad smile.

Valerian got off of the horse when she did and he sat beside her a few inches away.

While her posture was closed off, knees tucked to her chin, he kept his open. His good leg was drawn up and he rested an arm over it, the other arm propped him up behind himself. His other leg stretched out in front of them.

It was different this time.

"I know. If we could..." He offered her a sad smile and shuffled closer so their arms were touching slightly. Everything else was off the table, but damn if he wasn't going to get some contact.

"You're not going to get all closed off, are you? Olive, no matter what else is between us I'm your friend first." He looked at her, concern on his face.

"I know," Olive said, not turning to look at him. The hills stretched out in front of them were bright green with the budding spring. The land looked so alive right now. Up here, you could almost forget there was a war going on. The land looked peaceful, productive. It looked like what it should be. That, she reminded herself, was what her responsibility was to. But she also had a responsibility to people, to the people she cared about. Who cared for her.

"I know you'll always be my friend. But... you're not just my friend anymore. It doesn't seem fair, complaining to you about... about my impending 'marriage.' Or to tell you my worries. Not when," she finally looked over to him, frowning gently, "not when I know that the way you care about me, it isn't just for a friend."

Now that they were dismounted, now that they were so close, Olive had to resist the urge to reach out and touch him. To brush her fingers across his cheek, tuck back his hair. Kiss him.

Valerian laughed. A smile for her frown before he reached over and tucked a loose piece of hair behind her ear.

"Shouldn't that exactly be why?" He said softly, still smiling. "Who gives more of a damn about you than me?"

As soon as his hand brushed away her bangs, she leaned her weight against him. It was almost an unconscious movement. An instinctual search for comfort.

"No one," she answered quietly, realizing for the first time that it was true. At least, no one there at the Keep. That realization hit her in the stomach. Was that really true? Again she felt the loss of her parents like a physical ache.

She looked up at him and bit her lip. She was just a little too close, and everything in her posture and eyes asked to be kissed. And everything warned against it, reflecting her own internal struggle.

"And what about you?" she finally asked.

The silent cue's to kiss were taken and he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, shifting again to kiss the top of her head. "Well... I'm sure Dad cares about you, too." Another kiss to the forehead and he sat up properly, moving his arm around her shoulder and tucking her against him.

"What about me?" Vale asked softly, "I'm... Going to go back to normal." A sad smile and he rested his head against hers, "I'm not going to get married to ... some asshole. Or become a duchess."

That wasn’t really what Olive had been thinking, but a kiss on the forehead was safer. More responsible. But she leaned into him all the same, nestling against his chest.

“He’s not… he’s a good man,” she said lamely. Vale needed to be careful about what he said. Words like that in the wrong company could get him the sack. Olive sighed against him. “It’s just not what I imagined happening, I guess. Somehow I let myself think that when the war was over, I’d be able to go. Don’t ask me where. Obviously I didn’t think it through. And I just… I suppose I was lucky, in a way. I never thought I’d have to enter into a loveless, political marriage.” Now that she was voicing her thoughts, her words were coming more freely. “I mean, I don’t think I was ever in love with Avery, but I did love him, in a way. And when it was decided our marrying wouldn’t be best… I guess I assumed that I’d be allowed to choose for myself. Someone from university or,” she stopped, glancing guiltily up at Vale. She never would have had that much choice, and she wondered if she was being too open. She stopped and sighed. “Well, and in the last five years, it never occurred to me that I’d marry at all. I thought that was behind me.”

She’d thought all of this was behind her.

“And Erwin… Well. It’s obvious his reputation for getting around with women isn’t undeserved. I remember how people would look at the wives of lords who everyone knew had mistresses, you know? When people look at me now, it’s already pitiful enough. I think I’m already Constance-who-survived-unspoken-horrors or something in most of the household’s eyes. They already look at me with pity. I don’t want that to go on…. forever.”

Of course it stung.

It would hurt. Forever. An ache. Every time he looked at her, Valerian knew his chest would tighten and he'd feel sad. It was inevitable though. A thing that could never be. It was always like that. Someone from university. He gave a dry chuckle, rubbing her arm. Part of him wished she had just been a maid. Though, still, she would be a mage and her status as a duke's daughter wouldn't have kept her alive.

His hand was on her head and he held her close. If he couldn't be her lover, he could be her friend.

There were no comforting words from him, simply because... What could he say? As much as Valerian wanted to pretend he was okay with her getting married for something other than love - a concept he couldn't quite grasp - it made his chest ache to think. Someone else would have children with her. Someone else could sleep with her until they were - hopefully - old and wrinkly.

"Is he easy to talk to?" Valerian finally asked having only ever seen the Duke fleetingly when he'd come by for horses. Maybe they'd exchanged words once or twice but obviously it wasn't anything note worthy. "Maybe... Set some ground rules."

Olive gave a shrug. "I suppose so. We've hardly ever talked about more than politics. But he does listen to me there." She had to give him credit for that. Erwin Therrien had give her words more weight than most Connlaothian men would give to words spoken by a woman. Whoever the woman was.

"But..." Olive shifted so she could look up at Vale, and blinked. "What do you mean, 'ground rules?' I certainly don't want to bind anyone to fidelity to me who doesn't want to." She spoke these words plainly, matter-of-factly. But it was true. Somehow the thought of it just made her queasy. It was bad enough, being the 'convenient fix' to a man who'd made it quite clear he never wanted to marry at all. "I don't suppose I could, anyway. It's not exactly a wife's prerogative. Most men, at least, noblemen, do as they please with women."

Valerian gave a dry chuckle.

Politics.

If there was something that was an obvious difference between their classes it was the depth of their knowledge. Valerian knew just about everything you could know about horses. Even broken a few before riding a horse bareback wasn't really an easy thing to do anymore.

Olive was politics. Politics and books about hops in different languages.

He nuzzled into her hair and held her tighter, rubbing his hand up and down her side while she spoke. Though her uncaring if her husband was faithful irked him in a way he didn't quite understand. It wasn't like he was going to be having an unfaithful... Wife? If that happened.

"I don't like it," He stated, "I don't like knowing that... You'll be married to someone who... Puts his dick in other people, he isn't a stallion. He doesn't make the best race horses." Valerian wrinkled his nose in distaste and stuck out his tongue for good measure. "Then again, I get to choose. If it ever comes up." 

Going quite for a few moments, Valerian finally rest his cheek against her head and wrapped his arms around her in a hug. "For what it's worth... I'm sorry Olive. I know you want what's best for Wulfbauer and I'm sorry... I'm sorry you don't get the little luxuries like I do." Like getting to choose who you get married to.

It wasn’t that Olive didn’t care. Of course she cared. Having for so long assumed it wouldn’t be her fate, she’d always pitied a little the women who had to marry whomever their parents said, men who fooled around as often as not. Her parents’ marriage had been arranged, but they’d been in love nonetheless. At least by the time she’d come around. And Olive was now realizing she’d taken some kind of pride in that. But would it really feel any better to twist someone’s arm, force them to be ‘faithful’ to you when they didn’t even particularly want you in the first place? Except, of course, for your name.

And the way Vale put it wasn’t making her feel much better about it. She knew now that he hadn’t been the right person to talk to about it. She should have voiced her concerns to Grace, maybe.

But it was all trivial, anyway.

Olive clucked her tongue in annoyance with herself, straightening herself and sitting back up. “Listen to me,” she grumbled. “People are dying every day from this war, and I’m worrying about what my ‘husband’ will do on the side. As though it mattered.” She was silent for a moment, looking out over Wulfbauer’s green hills. Annoyed, and a little disgusted, with herself. Finally she gave a shallow sigh and looked back at Vale.

“I’ll be a duchess. Think about what that means. I mean, not because it’s me, but what I am. That’s important, Vale. That’s more important than whether or not I’d want to marry. Or what my ‘husband’ does.”

She believed those words. But it didn’t mean she felt good about them. Now Olive was seeing, though, that maybe it was better to convince Vale that she was fine. And she was… fine. What more could she really ask for?

Valerian pulled a face when she sat back up and away.

Though he didn't try to keep her close if she wanted space, he sat up properly too, tucking his hands into his lap while he listened to her. Watched her speak. Why couldn't she just understand where he was coming from? Yes, bad stuff was happening. That was a very very true thing. Yes, her being the duchess was a good thing. A mage as a duchess. A mage that didn't immediately make the keep explode. It was only a good thing.

Why couldn't she just understand that everything he said, all his opinions were just... About her? Valerian let out a small sigh and nodded at her, looking away after a moment. Her being happy was apparently not an option and he wondered if it hurt her as much as it hurt him.

"I know it's important." But what her husband did still mattered, didn't it?

"I'm sorry. You're looking for comfort and... I'm just... Bad talking it." He gently chewed on his lip and rest his hand on her shoulder, giving it a familiar friendly pat before he moved his hands to himself. "I spend most of my time with horses, I'm afraid I've never really learned how to converse with ladies." He stuck his tongue out at her after a moment before pushing his hands through his hair and trying to smile.

"You'll be a great duchess." It went without saying she was probably the most intelligent person he knew. Though he paused then and moved to rest his head on his hand, "Do I at least get to teach your kids how to ride horses?"

Olive shot him a sideways, unimpressed look. "I'm not a lady," she said flatly. Well, of course, that wasn't true. She was; and soon she'd be more than that. She gave a little huff of an exhale, then corrected, more gently, "I'm not a lady with you."

She looked at him, frowning. There was so much potential between them, and so few possibilities. Olive honestly didn't know if she would want to marry Vale, much less have children with him. She wasn't sure she wanted to marry anyone. But she wanted to be free to explore their relationship, find out what she did want, what they might be able to create or embark upon. Without all the barriers and restrictions and constraints put upon them by their stations, by her responsibilities.

Comfort hadn't been the reason she'd come to him that day. She'd come to tell him that they couldn't keep exploring the possibilities of their relationship. At least, not in the direction they had been in the previous days before the thief's appearance...

His question about 'her children' clenched her stomach. Somehow that idea tore at her heart. Was it the image of Vale resigning himself to care for children that couldn't be his? Loving her through them? 'Them,' the phantom children she could barely think about. Was it the idea of these theoretical children getting to have a relationship with Vale, when she feared there would only be a growing distance between them after this? She wasn't sure.

"I don't know if I'll be a good duchess or not," she answered quietly after a long silence. "But I can't bear to think about 'children.' I mean, I know that's 'part of the deal,' I guess. But I just..." she thought back to the conversation they'd had about children in the attic. Then, worse, realized that 'the attic' couldn't still be a thing. At least... not in the foreseeable future. With that realization, she scooted closer to Vale, tilting her head to rest against his shoulder.

She let out a long exhale, then asked quietly, "How long can I keep you away from your work?"

I'm not a lady with you.

Valerian grinned widely and nudged her with his arm, "Oh, I know." the words were softly spoken and he winked. It was a potentially lewd comment, but he couldn't quite help himself. It was there and it was too good to just ignore. Then he went quiet while she spoke. About the children she never wanted but now would be required to have.

"You've practically been in school forever to learn how to be a good duchess and you're not snobby and stuck up... I mean... C'mon Olive. How many nobles have crippled stable hands as their friends?" He simply rose an eyebrow at her, like her being 'tainted' by common folk would some how make her a better leader than... Well, someone who wasn't.

Valerian liked to think so. Olive would be... A good duchess. "You can keep me as long as you like," He paused for a moment, "Away from work I mean.  It'll just be waiting for me when I get back," Valerian gave a shrug. Sure some of the horses were out taking their turn on the field to eat the grass but.. It wouldn't kill any of them to nibble on a little more. 

Taking a deep breath he gave her hair a ruffle, "I hope it was nice while it lasted," He commented softly, implying... Their meetings. "Some... Nice memories."

You can keep me as long as you like.

Olive looked at him then, stricken by those words. Her emotions came to the forefront then - her emotions, not her intellectual reasoning about the political advantages of a marriage. She looked at him, looking sad and defeated and lonely all at once. She wanted to keep him. As a friend, if he couldn't be a lover. She didn't really, she thought, have any friends in her 'noble' life. Not any real ones. She wanted to keep him; for herself. Olive didn't want to share him, not even with a theoretical future woman who would, inevitably, one day have more claim to him than she did. But she knew she couldn't. And she knew she would have to.

In a sudden movement, she threw her arms around him, clinging tightly to him with her face buried in the crook of his neck. Without realizing it, she'd started crying. Silently, but he'd feel the shaking of her body, and the warm tears against his neck.

"It was nice," she sniffed, voice quiet and thick.

The hug caught him off guard and his arms wrapped around her in turn. One hand cradling the back of her head and the other drawing up and down her back in slow circles. Valerian stayed silent, nuzzling his cheek into her hair while she cried and he felt his eyes burning too. Olive had never been his. He knew she would never be his. There was always the gate of status between them. Of Grace and his father.

Still, it hurt to know that finally what little spark they had carried for one another, the little candle flame that they'd explored would be snuffed out so soon.

It was probably for the best, he though, giving Olive a gentle kiss to the crown of her head. Valerian had been mentally preparing himself for this day, the day Olive would... Go away. Emotionally? Physically. Things like this, a simple hug, would be blown out of proportion.

"Good," He finally replied, "I wanted more nice memories with you." It took a lot of willpower to not push her away slightly, catch her face and bring her lips to his. It wasn't that she 'belonged' to someone else now. Olive would never belong to someone. It was that if he did that it would make this all so much more difficult. "No matter what, I'm here. For you. That's what friends are for, right?"

But Olive wasn't 'going away.' She was going to stay here, indefinitely. And so would he, for as long as he liked. There was some comfort in that. They'd been friends her whole life, and now they'd continue to be. But it also made it harder - much harder - at least for now. And Olive realized she'd have to find a way to actually be happy, not just resigned. Or she'd never be able to face him. How could they ever really be friends again if they stayed heartbroken? It couldn't go on forever.

For right now, though, Olive was heartbroken. Her tears had abated a little, but when Vale spoke again, they started right up. And just for now, she let herself cry. Mourn the premature end of her more-than-friendship with Vale, the end of the life she thought she'd made for herself - a free life, the end of being 'just Olive.' She held herself tightly to Vale. Internally, she had the same struggle as him: Resisting the urge to kiss him, to find physical comfort in him, to physically reaffirm a relationship they wouldn't have now. But she didn't. To guard his emotions, she told herself, but really for hers, too.

Olive sniffed loudly, trying to gather herself to speak. When she finally did, her voice was thick and a little strangled from the crying. But she realized there was something she hadn't told him yet; and she needed to. "Vale, you know I love you, right?"

The words should have been a surprise.

They weren't though.

Valerian just smiled. The bright dopey grin for her. It took a lot of effort to keep his eyes from watering and he just took a deep breath and let it out slowly before he held her tighter and nuzzled into her hair. Fleetingly he wished he'd taken the time to at least change his shirt. "You do?" He feigned surprise, his voice slightly muffled because he was speaking against her head.

"Well, give me spots and call me a Pinto." Another kiss was pressed to her head and he silently grieved for the person she wasn't going to be. "I know." He finally confirmed softly, "Even if you never told me. There's only one kinda love you know, just... Sometimes it's shown differently. We just got to... Show each other a special kind." He was quiet for a moment.

"I love you, too, Olive. Unconditionally. Nothing has changed that." Valerian leaned back finally before pulling a straight face, "We should probably not have sex anymore though," He pursed his lips and tried to look more disappointed than sad. A silly attempt to lighten the mood, "That might get you into trouble."

That actually made Olive laugh; a slightly strangled laugh mixed with tears. She moved so she could face Vale. "Heh, that's what I wanted to tell you," she said, wiping her wet cheeks. Sniffing, she tried to muster a helpless little smile for him. Her eyes on him were damp, and grateful. Grateful not just that he had come to that conclusion somewhat on his own, but also grateful that he had curbed his own anger. That he'd been strong, and let her be weak.

Her eyes stayed on him for a long time, bright with tears and dampened with earnestness. She nodded, though, thinking of his words. 'There is only one kind of love.' And she loved him. Fiercely, and in a way that went far beyond the physical relationship they had shared. It would survive this heartbreak. Maybe it would need some time. But it would make it to the other side.

"I'm always in trouble," she joked weakly. "Maybe it's time for me to try to behave. A little."

She reached out and took his hand, squeezing it tightly in her own. "Come on," she said after a long moment, not letting go of his hand. She managed a smile, trying to make it as reassuring as she could. She loved him. Unconditionally. Nothing would change that. She just wasn't as good at saying it. But she hoped he knew. "I'll help you bring the horses in from the fields. I'm not a duchess yet."

It was bittersweet.

Valerian brought her hand to his mouth and gave the back of it a lingering kiss. "My lady," then he stood and, mimicking all the fancy lords, bowed like one to her.

Then he promptly dropped her hand and hobbled to his horse, "Race you back to the stables! Loser has to go through the mud!" A grin and he paused a moment before hoisting himself onto Princess, sticking his tongue out at Olive and nudging the horse along into a trot.

Olive scrunched her nose, peeved at the head start he'd given himself, still sniffling. Or at least, she was trying to be peeved. Really, she was a bit overwhelmed. It was an effort, for her and she knew for Vale, to act like this: Normal. A worthwhile effort, but effort. She took only a moment longer, then she wiped her nose and sprang to her feet.

"Don't kid yourself, Valerian," she called after him, "I've always been faster than you!"

She ran to Searchlight, grabbing the pommel of the saddle and hoisting herself up onto the horse. Urging the mare into a cantor, she came up close alongside Vale and, once she did, reached out and smacked him lightly on the back of the head as she passed him. It's what they'd always done as kids when racing and overtaking one another. She blew a raspberry at him, then trotted out ahead of him towards the stables.

"Ow!"

Damn.

The raspberry was returned with vigor and he nudged his horse along. "Did I say loser has to go through the mud?" Valerian called, "because I meant the winner!"

"Too late for changing that now," she called back at him. She didn't race too far ahead of him, though. In fact, she only stayed half a horse length in front of him. She wasn't sure if she wanted to give him the chance to win - obviously he'd need her to give it to him! - or if she just wanted to stay close to him.

It was faster going back from Caerith's Seat than to it, and the downhill track went fast. It had been a long time since Olive had ridden fast and carefree. And the thrill of the ride and having Vale so close was just so familiar. It wasn't long before the wind in her face dried her tears and the weight that had been pressing on her chest lifted.

Maybe Olive was thinking too much about that and too little about winning the race, because she only saw too late the fallen bough that she had to quickly and last-minute navigate Searchlight around, letting Princess and Vale go through straight in front of them!

With a hmph!, she resettled Searchlight, taking off quickly after them.

Strangely competitive, Valerian was in the zone and they shot past Olive and Searchlight quickly. A few more nudges and the lead they got was enough because before long, with an early whoop of victory Princess and Valerian were closer to the stables, so close!

Just a little bit more and Olive would have to muck around the muddy part of the field. A glance over his shoulder to Olive and he gave a bright laugh, grinning widely. It wasn't a good day, it had been ... Disappointing news.

Now there was a good memory though, something to smile at when he thought back on it.

The day he beat Olive at her own game! Ha!

As soon as she saw that grin, Olive knew she wasn't going to try to overtake him. She wanted him to have a win today. So she urged Searchlight on enough to come close - she didn't want it to be obvious - but stayed just a hairbreadth behind. Still, it was fun. The rush of wind, the pounding of the horse's hooves all were imbued with a little feeling of freedom. Even if it was a freedom with caveats. Olive was finding, more and more, that all forms of freedom were. Was she freer living in the wild with the mages? Maybe. But she hadn't been free from hunger, or cold, or the constant threat of capture. Now, maybe, was the start of a new kind of freedom for her. But just in that moment, with the horse running beneath her, it felt like a purer form of freedom. Just then. In a minute, of course, it would be over.

When she finally came into the stables, just behind Vale, she was breathless and laughing. "Fine, you win! I'll trudge through the muck. I won't even tell Grace what happened," she grinned. Then she laughed and looked over at him, "Are you going to help a lady down, or what?"

She could, of course, dismount herself. But just then, she wanted to ask.

A grin.

Valerian dismounted with a grunt, leaving Princess to her own devices for now - which was to stand there and breath all horse like.

Going over to Olive, he raised his arms and instead of simply giving her a helping hand, he practically man handled her off the horse, setting her to her feet gently. A small show of his strength. A small display of his masculinity. Perhaps to just reassure himself that them not being able to happen wasn't because of him. Or something he did.

Letting out a careful breath, he took a step back and smiled. "First we unsaddle the horses, then we go get the ones from the field. Then you don't tell Grace on me because that woman can blister my eyes. I still remember the first lecture I got after you went back to her covered in mud. I have nightmares about it." A visible shudder and he gave Olive a little nudge, a small smile and motioned to Searchlight.

A new beginning. Sort of. Back to the what they were before. Friends. Friends that had races.

Friends that made bets on who got to walk through the muddy part of the field.

It could work.

It would have to.

Olive gave a squeak of surprise, half-laughing half-halfheartedly protesting as Vale physically lifted her off the horse and set her down on the ground. When her feet hit the ground, the momentum of the action almost led her to kiss him. But she paused, remembering that no. That was over. And in that moment she became suddenly very conscious of how close they were. Her heart thudded in her head, and her smile faltered a little. She felt a pang in her chest and then, thankfully, Vale took a step backwards.

Olive stayed where she was for half a moment, still frozen where she'd been. Then she forced a smile. It was genuine, but there was a sadness behind it that she'd temporarily forgotten on the horse. But it grew a little as he went on about Grace.

"Yeah, yeah," she said, rolling her eyes and shaking her head at him. "I think you're big and strong enough to survive a talk from Grace. And anyway, I'm the one who's likely to get a lecture!" She gave a huff, shaking her head at him again.

"Come on," she said, giving him a playful shove, then heading back to Searchlight to unsaddle her.

Then she'd trudge through the mud. In a way, she was happy it was her. Happy to trudge through the mud. Something she could do for him. Something they could laugh about. A new silly memory that they could try to build a new, old, friendship on.


[[Finito?]]