Fic - EphrimThrondir - SiH24 spoilers
Apr. 13th, 2019 01:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lady_mablisten................................ they're husbands.
That's it that's all I got.
Ephrim wakes with a sudden start at the first sound of the bells. His brain, still swaddled in sleep, scrambles to remember what should happen next. Morning prayer? No. His turn for watch? No. A call to arms?
There’s a clatter outside in the center of their camp, and Highwater has her weapon drawn in the shadows of the tent. He can see Marigold’s silhouette against the dawn, moving cautiously. He can’t hear what she says, but Throndir’s rumbling tone answers—barely audible beneath the bells.
Marigold moves, Kodiak growls, and there’s the sound of a brief scuffle.
Ephrim and Highwater lunge for the front flap of the tent at the same time, but his retainer is faster. She shoulder checks him, and he crumbles back onto his bedroll with a wheeze.
She spares him a glance of apology before ducking out. “What’s going on?” Highwater asks, voice pitched low. “Did he hurt you?”
“No,” Marigold grumbles as Ephrim emerges from the tent. She avoids looking at him. “I’m fine.”
Ephrim gives a quick look around, seeing Hadrian sleepily standing in front of his tent with his sword out. Fero’s nowhere to be found, but two birds hop anxiously on top of Kodiak’s head, and that is answer enough.
“Where’s Throndir?” he asks, turning to his retainers.
Marigold gives him a look, then points towards the coast. “He went that way.”
“He was starting to get the fire ready for breakfast when he suddenly flipped,” Fero adds from his new perch on Kodiak’s back, Safewater on his head.
Ephrim is aware of Rosana saying something to Hadrian, but her words can’t be heard over the final peals of the bells. He grits his teeth and ducks back into his tent in order to pull on his boots.
Highwater follows immediately after. “Lord, perhaps it’s unwise for you to—”
“Don’t.”
“I’m just suggesting that he might not be… sound right now.”
“And I said ‘don’t’, yet you did anyway.” Ephrim doesn’t bother looking for his cloak and pulls the blanket from his bedding to wrap around himself instead. He has to pause, standing half in the tent, half out, as he waits for the world to stop spinning.
She frowns. “You’re in no condition to go after him.”
“I will do as I please, Highwater. Just like you’re going to follow after even if I tell you not to.”
“Can I come?” Fero asks brightly, and it’s all Ephrim can do to not snap at him.
“No.”
Fero pouts, folding his hands on top of Kodiak’s head. “Camp is boring.”
“Go do reconnaissance over the other camps or over the walls or something,” Ephrim says as he walks away.
Sure enough, Marigold and Highwater fall into step behind him. Thankfully, the others remain back at the camp. Rosana urges the others to help her tidy up and get breakfast started.
Ephrim picks his way through the other camps, hugging the blanket closer to his shoulders. It’s a chilly morning, and he’s still not feeling recovered from the altercation with the vines in the forest.
Along the way, he spots a pan that he’s rather certain is theirs. Marigold picks it up without question, and his two retainers share a frown that they don’t even bother to hide from him.
The ocean air grows heavy with salt and the sound of surf as he reaches the shore. The top of Throndir’s head pokes out from the water, looking like some sort of ocean creature from a story he read a long time ago.
Something in Ephrim’s chest aches, and he moves forward without hesitation—stepping in until the waves are up to his knees, his night clothes and boots soaked. He keeps the blanket from trailing in the water.
“Lord Ephrim,” Highwater calls, clearly displeased, but he waves her off.
Throndir moves slowly, cautiously, towards him. He doesn’t say anything, even when Ephrim holds out a gloved hand, and helps tug him back to his feet. He doesn’t say anything even when Ephrim wraps the blanket around him and steps in closer.
Ephrim kisses him despite the salt water dripping off his ears and winding tiny rivulets from his hair to his chin. He can feel Throndir’s trembling, and it’s more than just the cold. “What happened?”
“I don’t know,” Throndir whispers back, not looking him in the eyes. “I just panicked. I’d never felt so scared in my life.”
“Is it because…” He doesn’t know how to say it. It’s still one of those things that neither of them talks about, just like Ephrim’s hand.
“I don’t know,” Throndir repeats. “I haven’t been… I’m not…”
“Throndir…” He sighs, but doesn’t admonish him further. “Do you want to go back?”
There’s a pause, then Throndir shakes his head. “Not yet.”
Ephrim works his way into the warmth of the blanket, wrapping his arms around Throndir’s chest as Throndir’s arms close around his shoulders. He doesn’t even pay attention to the wet clothes. “This conversation isn’t over, but now isn’t the time.”
“We can move back to the shore at least. Your retainers are going to hate me if I keep you in the ocean.”
Together, they shuffle out of the water and back up the rocky shore to where Marigold and Highwater wait.
The retainers had fetched another blanket and two mugs of steaming tea. “Make sure you change before you get worse, Lord Ephrim,” Highwater says as she hands over one mug.
Marigold hands the other mug and the second blanket to Throndir.
“I’m sorry,” he mutters. “I hope I didn’t shove you too hard.”
“I’m fine.” She glances to Ephrim, and he gives the slightest shake of her head. Whatever her next question was going to be, she swallows it down and nods to both of them.
“Thank you,” Ephrim says, and then when neither of his retainers seem keen on moving, adds, “We’ll be up shortly. Prepare something for me to change into.” If they were going to mother him, he might as well play along in an annoying fashion.
The two finally leave, with another round of nods, bows, and yes, Lord Ephrims.
He turns back to Throndir, who studies the half-consumed contents of his mug. Ephrim pushes down his sigh and reaches out to kiss him again. Some of the tension eases from his chest as he can feel Throndir relax beneath his touch. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“It’s not… something I can just learn about. Something about the bells just set me off in a way I wasn’t ready for.” Throndir keeps one arm comfortably around Ephrim’s waist, and they lean into each other’s warmth.
“And what about tomorrow?”
Throndir manages a one armed shrug, the threads of exhaustion obvious. “I don’t know.”
“What if we find wax or cotton? Something you can plug your ears with?”
“I don’t know,” he says, sounding so defeated and lost.
Ephrim runs his hand back through Throndir’s hair before pulling him down to rest his head on Ephrim’s shoulder. “Alright. I’m sorry. We’ll figure this out.” He presses a kiss to the sopping, tangled mess of Throndir’s hair. “We’ll figure this out.”
He doesn’t know just which one of them he’s reassuring, but it doesn’t seem to work either way.
That's it that's all I got.
Ephrim wakes with a sudden start at the first sound of the bells. His brain, still swaddled in sleep, scrambles to remember what should happen next. Morning prayer? No. His turn for watch? No. A call to arms?
There’s a clatter outside in the center of their camp, and Highwater has her weapon drawn in the shadows of the tent. He can see Marigold’s silhouette against the dawn, moving cautiously. He can’t hear what she says, but Throndir’s rumbling tone answers—barely audible beneath the bells.
Marigold moves, Kodiak growls, and there’s the sound of a brief scuffle.
Ephrim and Highwater lunge for the front flap of the tent at the same time, but his retainer is faster. She shoulder checks him, and he crumbles back onto his bedroll with a wheeze.
She spares him a glance of apology before ducking out. “What’s going on?” Highwater asks, voice pitched low. “Did he hurt you?”
“No,” Marigold grumbles as Ephrim emerges from the tent. She avoids looking at him. “I’m fine.”
Ephrim gives a quick look around, seeing Hadrian sleepily standing in front of his tent with his sword out. Fero’s nowhere to be found, but two birds hop anxiously on top of Kodiak’s head, and that is answer enough.
“Where’s Throndir?” he asks, turning to his retainers.
Marigold gives him a look, then points towards the coast. “He went that way.”
“He was starting to get the fire ready for breakfast when he suddenly flipped,” Fero adds from his new perch on Kodiak’s back, Safewater on his head.
Ephrim is aware of Rosana saying something to Hadrian, but her words can’t be heard over the final peals of the bells. He grits his teeth and ducks back into his tent in order to pull on his boots.
Highwater follows immediately after. “Lord, perhaps it’s unwise for you to—”
“Don’t.”
“I’m just suggesting that he might not be… sound right now.”
“And I said ‘don’t’, yet you did anyway.” Ephrim doesn’t bother looking for his cloak and pulls the blanket from his bedding to wrap around himself instead. He has to pause, standing half in the tent, half out, as he waits for the world to stop spinning.
She frowns. “You’re in no condition to go after him.”
“I will do as I please, Highwater. Just like you’re going to follow after even if I tell you not to.”
“Can I come?” Fero asks brightly, and it’s all Ephrim can do to not snap at him.
“No.”
Fero pouts, folding his hands on top of Kodiak’s head. “Camp is boring.”
“Go do reconnaissance over the other camps or over the walls or something,” Ephrim says as he walks away.
Sure enough, Marigold and Highwater fall into step behind him. Thankfully, the others remain back at the camp. Rosana urges the others to help her tidy up and get breakfast started.
Ephrim picks his way through the other camps, hugging the blanket closer to his shoulders. It’s a chilly morning, and he’s still not feeling recovered from the altercation with the vines in the forest.
Along the way, he spots a pan that he’s rather certain is theirs. Marigold picks it up without question, and his two retainers share a frown that they don’t even bother to hide from him.
The ocean air grows heavy with salt and the sound of surf as he reaches the shore. The top of Throndir’s head pokes out from the water, looking like some sort of ocean creature from a story he read a long time ago.
Something in Ephrim’s chest aches, and he moves forward without hesitation—stepping in until the waves are up to his knees, his night clothes and boots soaked. He keeps the blanket from trailing in the water.
“Lord Ephrim,” Highwater calls, clearly displeased, but he waves her off.
Throndir moves slowly, cautiously, towards him. He doesn’t say anything, even when Ephrim holds out a gloved hand, and helps tug him back to his feet. He doesn’t say anything even when Ephrim wraps the blanket around him and steps in closer.
Ephrim kisses him despite the salt water dripping off his ears and winding tiny rivulets from his hair to his chin. He can feel Throndir’s trembling, and it’s more than just the cold. “What happened?”
“I don’t know,” Throndir whispers back, not looking him in the eyes. “I just panicked. I’d never felt so scared in my life.”
“Is it because…” He doesn’t know how to say it. It’s still one of those things that neither of them talks about, just like Ephrim’s hand.
“I don’t know,” Throndir repeats. “I haven’t been… I’m not…”
“Throndir…” He sighs, but doesn’t admonish him further. “Do you want to go back?”
There’s a pause, then Throndir shakes his head. “Not yet.”
Ephrim works his way into the warmth of the blanket, wrapping his arms around Throndir’s chest as Throndir’s arms close around his shoulders. He doesn’t even pay attention to the wet clothes. “This conversation isn’t over, but now isn’t the time.”
“We can move back to the shore at least. Your retainers are going to hate me if I keep you in the ocean.”
Together, they shuffle out of the water and back up the rocky shore to where Marigold and Highwater wait.
The retainers had fetched another blanket and two mugs of steaming tea. “Make sure you change before you get worse, Lord Ephrim,” Highwater says as she hands over one mug.
Marigold hands the other mug and the second blanket to Throndir.
“I’m sorry,” he mutters. “I hope I didn’t shove you too hard.”
“I’m fine.” She glances to Ephrim, and he gives the slightest shake of her head. Whatever her next question was going to be, she swallows it down and nods to both of them.
“Thank you,” Ephrim says, and then when neither of his retainers seem keen on moving, adds, “We’ll be up shortly. Prepare something for me to change into.” If they were going to mother him, he might as well play along in an annoying fashion.
The two finally leave, with another round of nods, bows, and yes, Lord Ephrims.
He turns back to Throndir, who studies the half-consumed contents of his mug. Ephrim pushes down his sigh and reaches out to kiss him again. Some of the tension eases from his chest as he can feel Throndir relax beneath his touch. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“It’s not… something I can just learn about. Something about the bells just set me off in a way I wasn’t ready for.” Throndir keeps one arm comfortably around Ephrim’s waist, and they lean into each other’s warmth.
“And what about tomorrow?”
Throndir manages a one armed shrug, the threads of exhaustion obvious. “I don’t know.”
“What if we find wax or cotton? Something you can plug your ears with?”
“I don’t know,” he says, sounding so defeated and lost.
Ephrim runs his hand back through Throndir’s hair before pulling him down to rest his head on Ephrim’s shoulder. “Alright. I’m sorry. We’ll figure this out.” He presses a kiss to the sopping, tangled mess of Throndir’s hair. “We’ll figure this out.”
He doesn’t know just which one of them he’s reassuring, but it doesn’t seem to work either way.
