"My liege you cannot attend that gathering, you have promised that evening to rituals of appeasement" (you promised you would rest and take some time just for yourself)
"My liege, there are worrying rumors about their trust and capability" (Last time they tried to plan something, it fell apart and you had to plan it last minute)
"My liege, you MUST attend to maintain diplomatic standing!" (You haven't seen your friends in a month and are saying you miss them every day, SAY YOU WILL GO)
You know, I made this post with a very specific context (how people see me, a married muslim lady in a hijab, and automatically assume I’m oppressed) but all these additions are absolutely sending me and the notes are delightful so by all means, please continue
How does your WoL/OC react to hearing a noise in the middle of the night? Whether they're asleep or making a midnight raid on the fridge/snack cabinet, how do they handle it? Do they investigate? Scream? Or just leg it back to bed and dive under the covers?
Answering to the WoL question of the day posted by @/sajynkojuro on bsky, heh :3
...there's nothing more I'd love, than to stay right here.
..then here we shall stay.
how long had it been. since they had a chance to rest.
a moment to themselves. without the noise of the twins or of wuk lamat.
without the constant threat of battle. without something going awry to take away their peace.
too long. too long since they had a night to themselves. to merely be.
she wouldn't let this moment slip for anything. not this time.
“I need to change first, Thancred.”
“Nonsense, come here.”
Her eyes found his in the dimly lit room. It’s like Thancred knows how exactly each light in her apartment falls on the bed so he looks the most convincing he can.
Thesa missed everything about this. She loves traveling, she loves Radz-at-Han, but she missed this. She missed this hand, the warmth behind it, the gentle smile he gave her. In another time, she’d grieve the sentiment. Now, that warmth engulfs her body as Thancred pulls her back into the bed, and she feels everything but that.
“My garments are dirty and I-” Her words get cut off by his lips, gentle and quickly, on her temple.
“We can tend the sheets tomorrow.” His answer is quick, at the tip of his tongue before she can even finish her own sentence or think about his answer.
Then it hits her: we can.
The silence sits between them as Thancred’s laughter quiets down.
“Besides, I wager your garments are worth far more than where we are lying now.” He says, with pretend ease, but she knows he can feel how her body is suddenly frozen by his words when her back hits the bed.
Thancred’s eyes are on hers again, but she feels seen rather than watched. The last time someone helped her with house chores was by Kimah’s instructions, but that was for a far greater number of people and a far greater cause — as the hrothgar insisted on telling her: every little thing counts.
By the time she was old enough to leave Jote’s roof and join the other vieras, Thesa has been responsible for everything that was deemed hers. It changes when she met the scions because, on occasion, she would help them. It was an arrangement easy to fall into when the twins shared a room with her since they often needed her help, and she was happy to oblige.
However, this was her apartment.
Her shelter, her bed, her sheets to care for.
Yet, when Thesa came home, she found Thancred laying there already, and the sight didn’t surprise her until he said it out loud in the space between them. Now, it leaves her frozen beneath his worried gaze as his hand rests over her shirt — over the darker spots marked by dirt, sweat and faint smears of blood.
Thancred leans over it without care, kisses her cheek, and whispers, “and I like them.” He says as his lips tugs to the side and forms a thin line, as if he is holding back an apology between the compliment when he leans over to kiss the edge of hers. “And you look beautiful.” He adds, and opens his mouth as if to say another after this, then another, until she stops overthinking what he said before.
“I don’t have extras,” she cuts him off before he can start listing anything else. If he isn’t taking back what he said, so he should know.
Every other month, Thesa wakes up far too early to clean the house so it’s done by the time she goes to bed again — and it helps that she is very rarely at home too. He needs to know how she works, how things work here. How he shouldn’t expect these things to change because she couldn't- she tried it before.
“I can lend you mine.” He says, simply, and she can’t help the twist in her lips at the absurdity of it all.
Thancred hasn't been home in months.
“All the way from Ul'dah?” She asks.
“All the way from Ul'dah.” He repeats, with far more certainty than anything she spoke all night.
Thesa turns around, looking into his eyes again to search any meaning behind those words and finding none. It’s still his, those beneath them are still hers, but he does not mind sharing. So she leans back on her bed, resting her head above his arm and nods quietly.
“Tomorrow, then.” She complies, closing her eyes.
Thancred’s body seems to ease. She feels how his hold around her becomes softer as he gently curls himself closer, repeating the words she said before his breath was against her hair as he pulled her closer.
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