from the holland road, i rose and i rose

 freya halwyn | dark elf | ex-thief

[ronanelymusdoyle-blog]

The World’s Most Fearful Embrace || Freya + Ronan

[freya-halwyn]

ronanelymusdoyle:

‘You didn’t know I’d be here.’

Another truth that he couldn’t hide from was poured into him by her words. Or more, by the tone in her voice. He had not allowed himself to be saddened by the night, hoping to cultivate a hollow sort of anger, but Sapphire had put it there in the room with them. He didn’t respond to her words. The logic in them was too absolute. And she had proven herself perceptive enough to read it on his face, anyway.

“A leash,” he said, not hiding how preposterous the suggestion was. He shook his head with the grace of a boy about to throw a tantrum. Hadn’t he told her to stop asking stupid questions?

“It’s the call of the wolf, Sapphire. Second in command is where I belong.” His shoulders squared as he spoke. He meant it, felt it, as a declaration that he was royalty, because in a kingdom where the sovereign was given his mandate by magic, who else would be the next in line to the king, if not for the best magician?

And yet, everything was going wrong. Everything in his life, his mind, his body, all of his plans were filling with the tension he refused to name. One that was crowding itself against the borderline of his conscious thought. One that Ronan thought, despite himself, that his master could take away if he chose to, but had probably placed there.

Sapphires blonde locks suddenly felt more real to him than his own thoughts did. He starred at her, only a short distance separating them. She was nothing - not even a wolf. His fingers itched to touch her, not with malicious intent, but something less sharp that he was suddenly, profoundly, disgusted with. He closed his fists against the ache and placed them in his pockets.

As expected he was defiant of her words. Nobody wanted to think they were on a lead - she certainly had refused to believe it about herself. She watched his figure square up. A real look of dignity and regality washed over him; his belief seemed to uphold his chin. The call of the wolf. But then Freya looked at him a little longer. At the little lie in his eyes. Neither spoke. She looked at him like somebody should have looked at her a year ago, when she was so firmly convinced of Matthon’s care for her. He doesn’t care for you. Second is last, and last is disposable. She couldn’t say these things. He wouldn’t listen, just as she wouldn’t have. But maybe he already suspected.

The movement of Ronan’s hands clenching drew Freya’s eyes from his face. She watched him place them in his pockets away, like sheathing weapons. A breath went out her lips and she felt softer. 

“So you were born with it, then? The change.” She had never got an explanation after the heist. Was it that, that made Matthon cruel. Like a beast. Did his bite come with the bark? It was the one thing she wrestled with: the inconsistencies. The way Matthon used to dip his head back in laughter, the way he used to, seemed to, love. Love everything, even though he never admitted to it. What had actually happened to him? 

She looked at Ronan and tried to see something of either Matthons she had known. But staring back at her was a stranger. Something else entirely. And yet, she was reminded of herself. 

“Are you...” she said, leaning forward onto both her hands, “Are you going to kill me tonight, Ronan?”

[freya-halwyn]

that we are thus or thus | freya & brynjolf

[freya-halwyn]

freya-halwyn:

exeunt-pursuedbysweetrolls:

Caught in his thoughts,  Brynjolf allowed the horse and the sight of Saph–Freya beside him so he could keep tabs on where they were. It had been a long time since he’d traveled to Archenland, the terrain was unfamiliar to him, and it meant he could focus more on what he planned on saying when they arrived. 

Ever since Matthon had pulled his stunt, Brynjolf had felt more and more like he was on ever-shifting sand, at any moment threatening to be tossed into some abyss without a bottom. He would never openly admit how much it frightened him, how much at times he felt like merely throwing himself off the edge before he was tossed. But too much depended on him, this very trip depended on him. The King needed his help–his country needed his help. His friends…

Which brought his thoughts to Freya herself. Who knew where they stood in this grand scheme, he still didn’t know his full thoughts regarding her, though he was trying to fix what had gotten broken. It was hard, but he would do it he was determined.

Missing her first statement, he focused, turning to her as she spoke of the city and what they could expect. A nod, followed by a shake of his head. “The sooner we’re there the sooner we’ll do what we need to and get home. I don’t want to leave the Guild for too long, after all.” He replied, taking a moment to take in the scenery. “… Rather beautiful, isn’t it?”

She pressed her teeth into the back of her lips at mention of Bryn having to return to the Guild. “Right, of course.” There was no returning to the Guild along with him. She had almost forgot, riding through the mountains and hills together during each day, that this wasn’t some sort of thieving expedition or mission. Mostly it was only the nights that she felt the pain in remembrance of her loss, when, with their sleeping pallets separated on either side of the campfire, Freya watched Brynjolf’s cheek flicker through iridescent flame, unable to reach out and touch it. During the day it was easier - enjoyable, even - regardless of the stakes of their journey being successful. But his nonchalant comment pinched with the reality of what wasn’t waiting for her back in Cair.  

Freya murmured in agreement. She refocused on the landscape, on Winding Arrow to the far south. “The river,” she pointed and traced its line in the air. “See where it disappears into that tree-line, the one before the eastern-most mountains?” How strange it felt to be looking on it, so removed, and after her life had happened. “My parents’ farm was tucked away there - whatever is there now I can’t say.” 

She felt she could stand there forever, watching it glimmer in the rays of the morning sun. “We better keep moving.”  With a tongue click she egged the horse into a slow and careful trot down the craggy hills, feeling the burning pull in her abdomen to keep balanced.  

When they did arrive in Anvard the sun was disappearing below the city skyline. Anvard, despite the early sundown, was still bustling with warmth. The castle which, made of reddish brown stone, glowed in the distance like a kiln against the winter chill. It felt harsher here - grumbling shopkeepers spit at noisy children, there were more rocks than grassy patches, and the accents were, though inviting to its speakers, graggly and smooth in a way that kept outsiders, outsiders. But, at the same time, the tip-toeing hush of Cair Paravel in the wake of Matthon’s threatening reign hadn’t made it this far south, in the everyday streets and family homes, and bar tables. 

Freya led the way to the inn, remembering the windy streets from trips into town with her mother. The network of thieves between the lands wasn’t necessarily flourishing but it was stable, and Brynjolf had intel that the inn’s ground level tavern was frequented by the local Guild members. When they entered the foyer, they were approached by an older fauness, the innkeeper. Freya spoke to her, slipping back into the accent of her childhood much more easily than she expected, and spun quick anecdotes about visiting the city again after so long, and yes the weather was cold, but still warmer than up north and had they already missed the lights festival, or was that next week? After a few minutes she inquired about the cost of boarding. 

“And will that be just the one room, then, dearie?” 

They hadn’t discussed it. She hadn’t realised they hadn’t until now and she was caught off guard. “Um,” she stopped, looking at Brynjolf for the answer. 

[ronanelymusdoyle-blog]

The World’s Most Fearful Embrace || Freya + Ronan

[freya-halwyn]

ronanelymusdoyle:

‘Why else would I be here, Ronan?’

His eyes flashed at the insult of her response. When he’d asked it he hadn’t really been thinking of the practical considerations of her life. He had meant the question in the sense of wondering why she would so effortlessly be here ruining his plans like she could waltz in and out of them as she pleased. It was in the same kind of way he had wondered why she had ended up fighting giants with him. Or why she had been in the fucking vault in the first place.  

But as a practical question it still had a great deal of merit to him. Ronan had not bothered himself with really learning about the Thieves Guild. Before the heist, he knew only that Matthon would be leaving it and, in doing so, would put it in danger. He did not know that Sapphire would be voiding her membership somehow by participating in the heist - he hadn’t even known she would be participating in it to begin with, so of course he’d payed her no thought before hand. 

But, from her perspective it would have been obvious, because why did any woman end up at the Rose? They had nowhere else to go and did not want to be criminals. 

Even this was new information about Sapphire to him. He supposed at the back of his mind somewhere he must of thought she had a family, or maybe something like his own past associations. He had assumed that, like his Master and himself, she had chosen to throw away a life. But her answer told him that she was totally dependant on herself, except for the hospitality of the local heretic. 

She lowered her hands and he found his temper quietly swelling with the degree of failure he was currently sitting in. 

“Because my Master sent me to kill you.”

Hearing Ronan verbally confirm her suspicions clamped the valves of her heart, as if mortality sent a venomous spider up her aorta. She thought she succeeded in keeping the emotions from her face - the fear of a very real reaper come to take her life away, the fear that she tried to forget, that no matter how far she ran, Matthon would find her, sniff and snuff her out - but, taking another drink of spirits, Freya was losing the motivation to uphold the stoic mask she so often donned during interrogations and confrontations. 

She looked at Ronan for a few moments, then at his boots and disguise on the floor. She recalled how he stretched on the floor when she entered the room minutes before. 

“I don’t think that’s quite true,” she said, looking again at his clairvoyant-seeming eyes. “What do you think?” She didn’t let him answer. “Because I think if you were here to kill me tonight, I’d already be dead. And you wouldn’t have bothered taking off your boots.” 

“You didn’t know I’d be here,” she said. Freya was unsettled by the sadness in her voice. She shook her head and smirked at the invisible, ever-present irony of the situation. 

It seemed, if he didn’t dare to kill her in the ten minutes that, either way, she could no longer stay at the Rose. And what a short time it had been - she had been kidding herself, thinking she could stay close to it all, to her city, to Brynjolf  - seeing as, if she was smart, she would leave by morning. If she could only figure out Ronan, this stranger made too of fangs and claws. Was that his only kinship to Matthon? Did he believe in Matthon’s schemes?

“Why is he your Master?” she asked, not only out of a need for knowledge, but also is the hopes of prolonging her life. “You don’t seem like one put easily on leash.”

[ronanelymusdoyle-blog]

The World’s Most Fearful Embrace || Freya + Ronan

[freya-halwyn]

ronanelymusdoyle:

Fuck. She was right. He hadn’t even stopped to consider that her brain might be a threat to him, or his own. He had only considered her body and how it could land him bloody or behind bars. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

She came closer, thankfully obeying his orders to keep her hands up. He tried not to show how much of a relief it was when she asked for a drink. 

“Of course,” he said, “where are my manners?” Maybe he could drown the entire debacle in good breeding and reasonable scotch. He poured her one and edged close enough that he could pass it to her carefully. Back on the couch, he looked at her again. 

Distantly, some of the night sounds of the Rose echoed through its halls. It sounded like a grown man was giggling in one of the rooms. It was weirdly distracting, and he did not appreciate it because somehow it made sitting across from Sapphire like this even stranger. And because Ronan was trying to have a serious moment as he figured out what to do. 

He could not think of a question to ask that would not give away how much this had surprised him. She was fucking right. Without talking, there’d be nothing more than speculation. He would have to…admit to Sapphire that he was not, in a sense, entirely in control of what was happening tonight. Abhorrent, the very idea of it, but in the pursuit of knowledge, what could he not endure? He was the second most powerful creature in the realm, after all. Was he not?

The distant sounds stopped. Ronan seized on the silence and, channeling as much of his patrician upbringing as he could, asked, “Why are you here, Sapphire?”

Thankfully the idea of strong spirits was as attractive to Ronan as it was to Freya, and, startled as she was that he was tonight’s customer she was keen on pulling answers out of him like teeth. Granted, seeing as his teeth were prone to transform into canines, he was certainly apt to bite back.

“Cheers,” she said politely, accepting the scotch.

Silence between them accentuated the distant howls and giggles throughout the Rose and she resisted pulling her robe tighter. Not a sign of timidity - they were both caught off guard, but he was the one in her room. It odd that she would be half-undressed, but that he would be too.

Ah. She couldn’t very well lie, not in the face of such an idiotic question. “Why else would I be here, Ronan?” She drank again. “I lost my loyalty to the Guild the moment I agreed to help Matthon. No going back. I’m tired of theft and daggers.”

Slowly and carefully, Freya set down her glass on the side table, watching Ronan’s eyes as she placed her hands in her lap instead of keeping them up.

“And why are you here? Matthon not acquiescent to all of your needs?”

[ronanelymusdoyle-blog]

The World’s Most Fearful Embrace || Freya + Ronan

[freya-halwyn]

ronanelymusdoyle:

The only saving grace was that he had not let his mouth hang open. That was literally the only thing in his favour, from the fact he was weaponless to the partial bulge in his trousers. 

Sapphire was an elf and he was no fool. If he attacked now, she’d get her fair share of scratches in and, regardless of the rest of it, he would have to run from the Rose bleeding in his undergarments. No way he’d make it out of Cair Paravel without guards on his blood trail. 

That was not how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to be fucking royalty. Instead bloody Sapphire was standing in the doorway with her hands up. 

“Just,” he clenched his teeth, “stop asking stupid questions, will you.” He wanted to kick the furniture but, knowing it would draw attention, settled for downing the rest of his scotch. 

“Keep your hands up,” he said, as he reached for the decanter and poured himself another one.

Because what excuse was there to spin? What could he possibly say now that she had been alerted to his presence in the city? With nothing else to say, he said the first thing that came to his brilliant mind.

“You certainly look appropriately fuckable.” 

She would have been more frightened if he wasn’t so obviously caught off guard, and, though the two had only a brief encounter - if escaping guards and bouldering giants to a hideout with a power-hungry ex-thief signified an ‘encounter’- Freya sensed Ronan was not the type to be found in compromising positions, specifically the one at present. He was contemplating something in his gaze, probably whether to knock her out and make a run for it.

He downed his scotch. She kept her hands up, but slowly stepped closer.

Freya refrained from rolling her eyes. “Look, maybe. But you’ll get no further than pure speculation.” She gestured to the decanter.

“Pour me a glass, will you,” she said, sitting on the edge of the bed, flexing her feet and pointing her toes.

[rosheenonice-deactivated2019011]

(x)

[freya-halwyn]

i rose and i rose | freya & theodora

[sister-theodora]

Theodora listened carefully as Freya spoke, and her heart went out to the younger woman. She rested her teacup in its saucer, holding it for a few moments as Theo went through her thoughts. She could have one of the east rooms, Theo thought to herself, looking up again into Freya’s face. See the sunrise when she wakes… Yes.

Setting the teacup and saucer on the small table, Theo leaned forward slightly. “Child, one thing you must know, you will always have a place here at the Rose. It is open to all, and you are not required to work in the usual line of work here.” Theo paused for a moment, then reached over to comfortingly place her hand over Freya’s.

“I know not of what this work was, or of the individuals you worked with, but here you are safe. You may stay here as long as you like, and you don’t need to pay me. Here we aim to make peace with the Great Lion through partnership with another, and there are many ways to do that.”

Theo squeezed Freya’s hand slightly. “I only ask that you contribute here. Small things, like cooking or gardening or helping the other girls. But…” Theo sighed slightly. “I may ask this, but you can decline. You could be looking for work outside of the Rose I do not know about, or simply don’t wish to be out and about.” Theo smiled again, nodding slightly.

“It is your choice, Freya.”

[freya-halwyn]

Sister Theodora’s hand over Freya’s own sent hope washing over her. Real hope. That she might cook, garden...it seemed ridiculous that she could spend her days that way, that she might never pickpocket a nobleman or visiting lord ever again. Only in a dream...

And yet it was her choice. It was all up to her - everything after this moment. She saw two doors. One with a dagger, back out to the streets, trying to find subsistence through odd work or thieving. The other door - a door with a rose - led into a room somewhere above past the stairs. She didn’t know - she wasn’t sure - what she would find there, or how she would feel. It was terrifying, but more terrifying was the thought of returning to work in a world she only knew how to steal from.

“Here,” she said quickly. “I mean, I want to work and live here. Learn what you have to teach, Sister.” Freya squeezed the woman’s hand in return. An immediate hardness lifted from her chest, a sense of liberation. She could make the choice to change the course of her life. She just had. She was scared, but she was ready. To begin, finally, again.

The World’s Most Fearful Embrace || Freya + Ronan

[freya-halwyn]

ronanelymusdoyle:

Two weeks he had spent, two weeks, crawling around the city in search of his target. One sight of Sapphire and he would have been able to put a dagger through her throat, but fortune was neglecting him. He had been forced to pass his nights at establishments like the Seven Stars, drinking consuming meat and mead with the masses. Intelligence leaked out of his mind with every conversation he was forced to endure with them, but what else could he do?

He had even gone so far as to venture a few trails in the city in his wolf form, but he could not risk being spotted by the guards. Or Brynjolf and his underlings, who would surely have cause to find and kill him after what Matthon had done to their order.

Who was this girl to think she could just fuck with his life like this?

He needed a fucking night off. Just one night with the company of someone who did not smell like goat and manure, and whatever warmth he could get from between a woman’s thighs.

Theodora’s eyes tracked him as he moved through her lobby, analysing his every micro-expression, as she always did. As a repeat customer, she had no trouble recognising him in his disguise even though he had been forced to dress like a farmer, like his father, rather than the scholar he was to carry out his mission. It itched beneath his very skin. And was that a flicker of pity in her eyes? Disgusting. For that he kept their conversation was brief, lest she begin going on about misguidance and loneliness. Or fucking Aslan. None of which had ever applied to him.

Eschewing his usual probing of her philosophies surrounding her stupid cause, he asked after her ‘priestesses’. She had someone new delivering teachings, that she said perhaps he might fall into a connection with. He concealed his scoff beneath a polite smile and exchanged his gold for her services. Theodora escorted him to his room for the night.

As soon as she departed, he stripped off to his trousers and a white undershirt. Now he could breathe deeply again. He poured himself a drink from the comfort of a finely upholstered lounge. Maybe the woman would take her time and he could lose himself in a book for a few moments?

A blonde woman walked in. Ronan glanced up, ready to make a quip, but it died on his tongue. 

It was Sapphire.

It was strange how the candlelight bounced and glimmered off her pale tresses, like reflections of the sun in shaky waters. She missed her dark hair - but only a little. It had kept her camouflaged alongside such dark guild armor, and the contrast to her pale skin was always striking under the moon and the stars, where she usually worked.

Now her locks were golden, shining like sunflowers in the spring, and it the persona looking back from the mirror she gazed at evoked too much positivity. She was nervous again; this was only the second time. 

It’d been a fortnight at the Rose. The first few days dragged for ages but she was at peace. She helped around the house and garden, keeping to herself. Sister Theodora checked in with her during tea time: was she happy? was there anything she might do to help? And the conversation would turn, slowly, into something more philosophical. Freya started to understand Theo’s subtlety in what could only be called genuine and gentle manipulation. Always they ended up on the theory of love, and though Freya drew into herself at first, she found, by the end of the first week, that something had fundamentally changed. It was a quick and sudden change, like the lighting of an extinguished sconce brought into a full flush of licking flames. Or, it was as if the bandits had stolen something within her all those years before, and only now, being here, was it returned to her. Maybe it was hope. 

It’d be time to go in soon. It wasn’t the first time, that was two nights before. And it’d been good. Albeit strange at first, but enjoyable. Sister Theodora didn’t ask too many questions when Freya had changed her mind, only if she was sure, because she didn’t have to do the Rose’s work. But when Freya talked with the other girls they seemed genuinely happy - and she laughed with them. It had been so long since she’d laughed too. 

Freya stood from the vanity in her boudoir. She slipped the lace robe over her thin frock and turned for the door in the adjacent room. On the other side was a man. She looked from his trousers to his drink to his undershirt, finally to his face. Her chest was met with a pounding. 

“Ronan?” she barely said aloud. How had he found her here? Was he meant to kill her? Of course, he’s here to kill me. What do I do? Fuck’s sake - what do I do? They just sort of stared at each other. 

Freya blinked and looked again - at the cup in his hands, his shoes beside the chaise, his exposed toes, his folded pile of... farming attire? Was it actually possible this was a coincidence? 

She made herself speak. “Am I meant to seduce you before you kill me? Or have you decided to take ‘sleeping with the enemy’ to a literal level?” 

And then, because there was nothing sensible to do, “I’m not armed.” She put her hands up, holding in a painful laugh.   

[freya-halwyn]

that we are thus or thus | freya & brynjolf

For some time the terrain had been rocky. They’d long since left the green pastures of Narnia for the bleaker Archenlandian landscapes. They had a horse each. Hooves plattered against the stony ground. Edging south along the coast would have been dangerous, too out in the open. Brynjolf and Freya rode west and south, well into the mountains. It was cold, especially this time of the year. 

It had quickly become clear they needed to act; having Matthon’s target on their backs didn’t help one bit. She heard rumors at the Rose - all the girls gathered information from customers, naturally. People disappearing from town in the dead of night, brothers or sisters leaving homes with a weapon they could barely wield: all to fight for him. It was unimaginable, but it was so. There were creatures and faces willing to fight behind Matthon. Maybe they were very afraid.

Freya looked over at Brynjolf. It wasn’t as strange or hard a journey as she’d expected. It still felt like business, but it was important. And maybe that knowledge between them softened the difficult feelings of the past. This was bigger than them, but they would do it together. 

From their elevation they could see the softer rolling hills below, and further east, Anvard. Much further south was Winding Arrow River, the natural border to the deserts of Calormen and her home. “We could be there by sundown,” she said. “The city, if I remember growing up, isn’t very kind to strangers. But they’ll still offer us a place to stay. And I wouldn’t be surprised if someone from the network here discovers us before we, them.” They had been riding all morning. For days, actually. “Do you need a rest?” 

[freya-halwyn]

i rose and i rose | freya & theodora

[sister-theodora]

Theodora gave a small nod, hurrying out to set a tray up for her guest. The pot was still warm, so she just set it on a tray with two spoons, a new empty cup and her own teacup. Carefully, Theo left the kitchens, returning to the lounge where Freya sat. She set the tray down, quietly shutting the door so as to not be disturbed - which seemed unlikely at this time - and seating herself across from Freya.

She poured the empty cup for Freya, holding it out carefully. “It’s still hot - I was trying brewing a pot when you arrived,” she said softly as Freya took the cup, and Theo sat back carefully, inspecting the younger woman. She was beautiful, but in a different way to many of those at the Rose. This young beauty seemed… sheltered. Less confident than the giggly girls who roamed within the Rose.

“My name is Sister Theodora,” Theo introduced herself, smiling kindly. “I am the owner and mistress of the Rose of Virtue.”

She took a sip of her tea. “You need not provide details, if you do not wish, but are you in trouble? You don’t look like you’re here for my usual services, Freya.”

[freya-halwyn]

Freya took the cup in her hands; it warmed them. Internally she replied, I know, I saw through the window -  it drew me towards your door. “Thank you.” The woman’s eyes roamed over her figure, her face. But it wasn’t an uncomfortable or calculating glance, a summation of her worth. It was a genuine study of meaningful curiosity. She wondered what it was the woman saw. 

“Sister Theodora,” she repeated quietly and nodded.

The usual services she was not in need of. At least, it it were, she was unaware it was so. She wasn’t quite sure what she needed save a safe place, a spot to rest her head away from nightmares and wolves. Instinctively she wanted to close up, withdraw into herself. Freya paused though, and looked Sister Theodora in the eyes. Like ripping off a bandage she made the decision to trust her. Not with everything - there was no need to burden the woman - but with enough. Because if she stayed here, if that was an option, the woman ought to know who she had put under her roof. 

“Years ago, when I came to Cair, I was on the streets until a group of people saved me. I’d been with them ever since. I always...had a place with them. And then I got in with the wrong sort. If I’m in trouble, I’ve put myself there. Now I’ve nowhere to go.” She glanced through a nearby window. “I need a safe place to stay for...” she turned back to Theodora. “...well I don’t know for how long. My former line of work isn’t an option anymore, and that was my whole life.” She felt a little embarrassed for having spoken so much about herself. “I suppose a few nights - until I figure out what’s next.”

[freya-halwyn]

i rose and i rose | freya & theodora

[sister-theodora]

The days had been quieter since the treaty signing. The Rose was as busy as ever, only now people rushed to be in its doors and when they left, they left in a hurry, taking care to not look around too much. Theo was the only one in the kitchens, making herself a pot of tea. It was comforting, soothing. Theo didn’t worry as much about Caradoc or Tumnus when she held a teacup in her hands, and now she hummed to herself, pouring the tea and straightening up, taking a deep breath. She stirred the tea, watching as it swirled about, and was about to remove the spoon when she heard knocks, two of them, followed by silence. Theo placed the teacup down, smoothing down her skirt, and headed out to the door. She opened it quickly, seeing a young, rather uncomfortable-looking young woman standing on the front step. Barely a moment passed when she spoke, looking more uncomfortable as she talked, and pulled out a few coins as she asked to stay for a night.

Originally posted by dailypotc

This girl - Freya - wasn’t asking to have a night with one of Theo’s girls, nor did she look like an expectant mother too scared to visit Cara. Theo reached out, closing Freya’s hand with her own and pushing it toward her, shaking her head. “Child, you need not give me coin. The Rose is a place welcoming anymore, a place for those to stay in times of need…” Theo opened the door wider, offering for Freya to come in. “You’ll be more comfortable in one of our drawing rooms. I’m sure this one is empty…” Theo closed the door behind Freya and opened another near the staircase, looking in. “This one is empty. I can fetch some tea, if you would like some?”

[freya-halwyn]

She didn’t know what this establishment’s policies usually were, but the generosity of its owner genuinely surprised Freya. One because she didn’t realize how ‘in need’ she looked to outsiders - her usual demeanor to outsiders was cold or unreadable. Second, for all that had happened, and with a prospective war on the horizon, she figured these townspeople would want as much currency in their pockets as possible.  

And maybe too it was child that Freya needed to hear. She had always felt old, but not very wise. She had ceased to consider herself a child since that day on the farm, since her childhood was taken from her.

The door closed behind as the woman ushered her inside, leading her to a drawing room beside the staircase. Freya looked around as the woman spoke. The decor was simple, yet decadent in its own right. “Tea would be lovely, thank you. Very much.” 

She looked at the small paintings on the walls and embroideries on the pillows. She wasn’t sure what to do with her hands so she spotted the nearest chaise and sat on its edge - in the same manner she had sat on the edge of her first bed at the guild, skeptical and hopeful and yes, scared of the future too. Freya waited until the woman, whose name she was eager to learn, returned with the tea. 

[freya-halwyn]

i rose and i rose | freya & theodora

Leaving the warmth of Brynjolf’s arms that morning was that of leaving the last thing she knew, her last comfort from a life it was necessary to move on from. Or, rather, to grow upwards and out of. Even so, his were hands she’d hold firmly onto through a great storm - she had. He’d kept her alive through it. And now she was here. 

Here, being a cobbled street in Cair at dawn. She was still in Megara’s clothes - a white linen shirt, trousers - and her own boots. She wore a headscarf lest she be recognized by any guards, or worse. There were no birds, only the sound of the breeze whipping around the stone houses and wooden stalls. A wind-chime too, far off. Ever since the peace treaty signing the city hadn’t been the same. No one seemed to go out of doors. It was just quiet, like the whole town was holding its breath. 

Nowhere struck her as a place to stay awhile, safe and out of the way. Would there be such a place? A place for a girl with a new name. A lost girl, running. She walked further on down the road, past old taverns and new stalls, until she turned a corner. 

And there she saw an inn marked with a rose. It was quiet in the street, but she thought she heard the whistling of a tea kettle inside. She carefully peered in the windows, some stained glass. A young woman removed a pot from the fire, turned to the cabinets and reached for a mug. The woman hummed, quietly. 

An impulse, hard and true, moved her to the front door. She remembered now, about this place. The Rose. A strange house of comfort. She lifted her knuckles to the door and rapped twice quietly. And waited. The tinking of the cups stopped, replaced by footsteps. After a moment the door opened slowly and the woman’s face appeared, an expression of surprise and confusion, but kindness too. “Um,” she began, not knowing what to say. “Right, sorry. I was just passing by and I heard the kettle and...well I haven’t anywhere to go” she hated this “...Do you have a room available - at least for a night?” She pulled out a few coins. “...I’m Freya, by the way.” The name still sounded funny in her mouth. “It’s just, this looked like a nice place to stay.”

[ratsbyghost]

Never forget

[gayforkatiemcgrath]

[gayforkatiemcgrath]

[freya-halwyn]

by each crime and every kindness| sapphire. brynjolf.

[leoreginae-deactivated20171211]

‘I will not leave you to bear the consequences…’

Brynja’s eyes slipped closed, and with a sigh she merely listened, the wetness in her eyes collecting in her lashes. He was right to say that the situation with the Guild may possibly lead to its extinction, but her heart’s ache eased a trifle with his assurances that he would try to protect her from it all. Yet, despite the hope of such, she knew fully well she would be touched by this in more manners than she had already,

Still, it was comforting to know that Jasper would try his hardest to protect her. It was warming.

“Yes I do.” she finally said, in complete agreement with his statement. The Guild and the Pevensies existed on different sides, but come a common enemy – like this one – she knew that they would fight to protect their own, and that would mean fighting on the side of Narnia. “We may be thieves, but we have our honor, our loyalty, our family. I just hope we’re still here to do so should it come to it – and we have some friends who may plead our case.” Yet, though these words came forth, she was not entirely sure that those connections would prove their allies if they were upon the execution block.

Karliah, she knew would speak for her, and Petra –  and Shadow she was beginning to suspect had her connections with the Pevensies as well. Perhaps Aslan had been putting the pieces in place for her and her family.

That didn’t mean she could allow herself to not prepare. The worst could still come. She needed to speak to Megara, and set up a new hierarchy now that her top three were gone. The Guild still had to run like the well oiled machine it had always been.

Her mind was drawn back by Jasper’s speaking again, her critical mind dying down to a murmur. He wanted to cling to whatever it was that had been different, whatever had driven them to become more intimate than she had ever considered being with him… but she knew in her heart she couldn’t give him any false hope – or herself for that matter. It would be unwise, especially with so much still in the balance, and although she desired to allow herself to merely explore it, she knew deep down she couldn’t. Not yet. A whisper brushed in her mind. She only hoped it didn’t mean ‘not ever’, or if it did that it wouldn’t harm either one of them before it was through. “Indeed.” was the only response she could muster, her brows scrunched in trying to straighten out her mind which threatened to once again become a mesh of confusion.

Without another word, she submitted to his reach, joining him in the bed once more and settling down. She could not deny him if he wished her to be there, and perhaps they could keep each other’s nightmares at bay? The dragon in her dreams was getting hungrier. “How is your pain?” she inquired.

[freya-halwyn]

Brynja settled beside him, his elf ears picking up the thuds of her beating heart. They faced each other and Jasper took in all the lines of her face, every curve with his eyes. It may very well be the last they be so close to each other, so taken in immediate warmth. These despairing notions threatened any calm, the calm he was aching for. So much wrong had happened, it was hard to push away the overwhelming urge to make as much happiness as he might, to use up these moments for what they could be worth. But timing, ill-timing, dictated all. Jasper looked at his friend, slid an arm over her side and tried to relax. 

“It’s manageable. Still terrible, but better than before,” he answered. “Your own?” he returned to inquiry. She had to be exhausted, and like himself in more ways than just physically. 

It was quiet then, just for a few minutes. He listened to their breathing.

Jasper’s eyelids heavily closed but fearfully reopened. He remembered the hallucinations and the ever-deepening slumber while on the hilltop, of feeling so close to going under warm thrashing waves and never coming back up. He’d hit his head so hard. 

His fingers moved to Brynja’s cheek. “I’m worried,” he whispered. “I’m worried if I go to sleep I’ll never wake up.” And of the nightmares, of seeing wolves and loved-ones turned to stone. It didn’t help when you lived such stuff as night terrors are made on. Would his little life then, be rounded by this night’s sleep?

So they lay that way for awhile, speaking in whispers to keep each other awake. He thought, he was sure, there were frames of time he fell asleep; but Brynja’s voice narrated his dreams so nothing else might get at him, and when he’d slept for too long she drew him from sleep with her fingers and sturdy intonations. 

And then towards dawn Jasper woke with his face in the crook of Brynja’s neck. His arms were wrapped around Brynja, and hers around his. He became aware of a small shaking and then hot drops like rain onto his cheek. Jasper didn’t stir, only listened, only continued to offer his embrace in pretend slumber. Bryn, I’m so sorry, he thought with all his heart. It was unbelievably warm, their bodies. In the morning he would have to unwrap their arms, he would sit up and she would stir. What would be said? What could be? He would have to leave and then it would be so cold, wouldn’t it? 

It was easier to leave when he’d been angry. Now his heart was full, of crime and of kindness, of guilt and of hope. 

[freya-halwyn]

*written note* You look like someone I know who has the world on her shoulders. But yours is significantly smaller in comparison. Doesn't mean that it isn't as important. I do ask though... Why keep such burden when you seem to no longer need it?

Another if you will, why miss so many opportunities? Why leave so many loved ones behind? Why stand alone in the darkness swayed by the voices too easily? You do not have your own light yet and thus you go around in circles. Why can’t you move out of it?

Do you know that you’re in a bubble? You should burst it because it’s doing more harm than good. You should see reality outside your own. Because looking at things observed. Not so much but I think enough. Aren’t you seeing the self induced misery you’re in?

Or do you need some help to burst your bubble? To get you out of such misery? Or to help you see it?

Or maybe a friend. If you could trust one again and not flee from your already fragmented loyalties, come to the East Gate. Tea time. Bring your daggers or your poisons, fight but do not flee. You’ve seem to have missed so much already.

Freya turned the note over looking for a sender’s name. It wasn’t there, but the weight of the words gave her some sense. She was standing at the window on the second floor, overlooking the streets of Cair Paravel. It was a cloudy day and smoke trails of surrounding shops and homes drifted up into the low-hanging fog. Though less than a week she’d been there, she hadn’t ventured from her new room save for dinner and tea. Everything was new - plus she didn’t want to be recognized in the streets, didn’t want [or rather did want, and that’s where the pain lie] to run into him. 

Could she trust again? She had words for this sender, she had explanations. She wouldn’t be swayed - that’s why she left her loved ones behind, painfully. And this bubble? No. This was the first time, standing with her bare feet on the floorboards of this establishment, that she didn’t feel like she was in a bubble. The bubble was Matthon, the bubble was the Guild, the bubble was Sapphire. 

You’ve seem to have missed so much already. 

Aye, too much. She looked behind to the trunk at the foot of her bed. Inside were the daggers, the armor. The East Gate, she thought. She would go, but the daggers she would leave behind. 

@gentlelilyqueen ???