#heinwen

[saraneth87]

WIP Wednesday

Got tagged by the lovely @amasec, so here... the beach chapter, I fear, will end up as a beach short (it's currently 4552 words...)

Dessert had just been cleared when they were interrupted by Abelard's appearance, Cassia on one arm and Idira on the other, all three dressed to the nines. Gwenllian practically leapt out of her seat to joyfully take the women to the bar, and the Seneschal took her abandoned chair. The two men nodded to each other. ‘How was your first day?’ ‘I am… unsure,’ Heinrix confessed. ‘I do not know what to do with myself. I am unused to having no duties.’ Abelard chuckled warmly. ‘You will soon adjust, I'm sure. Shore leave does have its benefits.’ ‘I'm sure,’ he joked dryly, raising an eyebrow at the trio across the restaurant. ‘Ah, I couldn't leave them without a chaperone. Lady Cassia would cause havoc.’ ‘Cassia? Really?’ ‘Oh, absolutely. Idira encourages her, of course.’ ‘And her Ladyship the pair of them.’ They both watched for a while, sat in companionable silence. Gwenllian appeared to be trying to introduce Cassia to the concept of shots. Abelard sighed wearily. ‘That is unlikely to end well,’ he harrumphed, and Heinrix laughed. ‘A laugh, young man? Whatever is that woman doing to you?’ Heinrix snapped his gaze back to the Seneschal in surprise, but there was no malice in the man's face - simply a teasing kindness. ‘Whatever it is,’ he mused regretfully, ‘it may not go down well with my masters.’ ‘Would you like my advice?’ ‘I'll hear it.’ ‘Enjoy the time that you have together. It will be cut short one way or another. Perhaps it is enough to simply live for the now, however temporary.’ Heinrix scrutinised the older man carefully, seeing a flicker of sadness. For Theodora? For Quatharina? For Gwenllian herself? Whichever it was, it was quickly hidden again behind a patient smile as Abelard rose to his feet. ‘Well, I had better rescue Cassia before she drinks too many of… whatever that is.’

[saraneth87]

For @lucheiah and inspired by this illustration (thankyou for this gift, @amasec)

'Lord Captain.'

Heinrix' voice was tense, unusually so, and Gwenllian sighed. It came from the direction of the hidden lift, which meant that Heinrix had bypassed the bridge. He had been using it more often of late, as though he feared Abelard's scrutiny after they had almost been caught together, the night of the warp incursion.

Almost.

'Heinrix? Why are you lurking out in the hall?'

'Are you alone?'

She glanced at Rhiannon, perched on the edge of her desk. They'd been discussing clothing choices for the Magnae, perhaps unprofessionally gossiping a little about Janris' suggested seating arrangement, and definitely not having a cheeky sacra in the sort of protocol-breaking way Abelard hated.

'Rhiannon is here. We were just having a... meeting.'

A pause.

'What on Terra is wrong with him today?' Rhiannon hissed, and Gwenllian elbowed her hurriedly.

There was an audible sigh.

'Lord Captain, I require assistance.'

She raised an intrigued eyebrow. 'Professionally?'

'Of a sort.'

There were footsteps. Rhiannon hopped off the desk and adroitly hid her glass behind a stack of datslates. Gwenllian spread paperwork across her desk and concentrated on it, barely flicking a glance upwards as Heinrix appeared in the doorway.

Oh, sacred feth.

The Interrogator was barely dressed, covered in blood, tightly muscled arms bearing scarlet-stained clothing. He wore blue boxers - Valancius blue, at that, surmounted with a small golden aquila - his rosette, and nothing else.

'What happened to you?' she queried as casually as possible. Her heart was pounding and her throat was suddenly dry and she knew he was picking up on it, if the slight blush that appeared under the blood on his face and immediately vanished was any sort of tell. She couldn't help it.

'There was an... incident... during an interrogation. I got back to my quarters to find my washroom out of order and under maintenance.'

'Ah.'

There was a pause as he shuffled uncomfortably.

'If I may-'

She waved diffidently. 'For feth's sake, Heinrix, you're getting blood on the carpet. You know where it is.'

He bowed his head in thanks and turned with as much dignity as possible. Gwenllian could not prevent her eyes following him, almost breathlessly admiring the breadth of his shoulders, his muscled back, that narrow waist, his long legs.

And, of course, his utterly unfairly perfectly sculpted backside.

'And to think I couldn't work out what you saw in him,' her companion murmured softly.

Gwenllian turned scarlet. 'Rhiannon.'

'Yes, your ladyship?'

She dragged her eyes away from where Van Calox had vanished to look at the maidservant, only to find the girl was about as red-faced as she felt.

'Go ask him if he wants his clothes laundered.'

'Why don't you go?'

'I don’t do the fething laundry, Rhiannon. Do as you're told.'

She vanished after him, giggling, and Gwenllian downed her sacra without tasting it, staring at the door.

Oh feth me.

[saraneth87]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

In which Heinrix finds himself in more than one surprising situation.

Prompt by @ashleeabutton, who helpfully suggested what they could get up to on day four of their holiday.

Three days to go!

[saraneth87]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

I asked how many Dargonus assassination attempts were too many and you all said things happen in threes, so here you are. Enjoy Heinrix being put through the ouch time, ya buncha meanies.

NB biiiiig thankyou to @lucheiah for catching the name mix-up partway through - that’s what I get for writing two connected fics at the same time(!)

[saraneth87]

WIP Wednesday

In which our heroes post-coitally fell asleep in the sun

‘You'll get burnt,’ he chastised her again. ‘Will not.’ ‘Well, don’t come crying to me to fix it when you do,’ he muttered. She turned her head to face in his direction, enormous sunshades hiding where she was actually looking. ‘You can do that?’ ‘I assume so. Stimulation of new cell growth, some numbing of the nerves. I can’t say I've ever tried it.’ ‘I suppose when you only come out at night you don't have a need to,’ she teased, and he snorted. ‘Night is where the reprobates are,’ he mused, and she laughed. ‘Is that why you only used to visit me during the evenings?’ ‘That was entirely your idea, as I recall.’ She rolled into his arms. ‘It's hardly my fault it's the perfect remedy for uptight men with sticks up their ass.’ ‘Gwen,’ he tutted. She giggled and suddenly yawned enormously. ‘Don’t fall asleep,’ he added as she settled against him, breasts against his chest as though they were in bed aboard the Myfanwy instead of lying in the radiant sunlight. ‘Mhm.’ ‘If you do then I will, and then we really will discover whether dealing with sunburn is within my skill set.’ But, with the skilled ease of any Guard soldier, she was already gone. He shook her gently, and it roused a sound of protest but no movement. Between her soft breathing and the sound of the surf, warm and comfortable, he soon followed. ‘Well,’ Gwenllian sighed, ‘that's going to be a little tough to explain.’ She was eyeing her back critically in the mirror, at the pale arm-and-handprint splayed across her tan. ‘You are lucky,’ Heinrix said stiffly, ‘that that is all you have to contend with.’ She turned to face him, winced sympathetically. ‘Throne above,’ exclaimed Rhiannon in surprise as she came into the bedroom and halted next to Gwenllian. ‘I didn't know a person could turn that colour!’ ‘Thankyou for your concern,’ he muttered through gritted teeth. ‘It's like the worst flamer-tan I've ever seen,’ Gwenllian mused, moving to his side to peer at his nose. ‘Yes, thankyo- ouch!’

[saraneth87]

WIP Wednesday

The water was cool around his ankles. He waded in up to his knees and stood stiffly, arms crossed. There was splashing and laughter and Gwenllian appeared, swimwear slightly askew, water running down her body. His eyes lingered, but were soon drawn back to her cackling face. ‘Gwenllian,’ he said with as much dignity as he could manage, ‘do not mock me, woman.’ ‘Heinrix,’ she managed breathlessly, ‘You look like you're being lined up for summary execution-’ more helpless laughter interrupted her, and she bent over, hands on her knees. ‘I am here, am I not?’ he snapped, and his tone cut her hysterics short. She straightened, came closer. ‘Oh, my stoic, stern Interrogator,’ she smiled, reaching out and touching his face with one damp hand. ‘Is it all so bad?’ ‘It… could be more unpleasant,’ he conceded reluctantly. ‘Good,’ she beamed, and without warning tackled him into the water.

@aseariel once told Gwen to tackle him in the sea so here you are

[saraneth87]

To Speak of Saplings

'What the Throne is going on in here?'

Abelard paused in his efforts, and Rhiannon froze, the pair looking up to find a battered, grimy Gwenllian. Fresh off the shuttle, she had her rifle over one shoulder and a spatter of blood along one cheekbone. 'Lord Captain. You're back early,' he chastised.

'It was a raiding party, not a full-scale invasion. You haven't answered my question.'

'It's a Saint's Day, milady!' Rhiannon piped up, moving to divest Gwenllian of her weaponry. 'Give me those, if it pleases you-'

'It does not,' she grumbled, but handed off her rifle and boltpistol. 'Which saint?'

'One of the romantic ones,' the girl giggled.

'If you asked Argenta, she'd say they were all romantic,' Gwenllian countered, shrugging out of her torn, filthy coat.

'Then it is good that the Sister is not involved,' commented Abelard, from where he was carefully attaching something to her bookcase.

'I wouldn’t mind, Abelard,' Gwenllian began, sitting down heavily to take off her boots, 'but why is there so much pink?'

'It's traditional!' interjected Rhiannon in a sing-song voice. 'You really need a bath, milady-'

'And why is that, Rhiannon?'

'For when the Interrogator comes by,' grinned the maidservant wickedly, and Gwenllian felt herself turn the same colour as the string of hearts that now adorned her desk.

'I don't know what on Terra you mean,' she frowned.

'Come now, my lady, it's regicide night! Surely you hadn't forgotten?'

Annoyingly, she had, and as she put two and two together she felt her blush deepen.

'Oh no. Absolutely not. I don't care which fething Saint's Day it is, I'm not playing regicide with van Calox with this many hearts in the room-'

'Are you not?' came a cool baritone from the doorway. 'A shame to waste it. They've been in here all afternoon.'

Gwenllian promptly wished a warp vortex would swallow her whole. Abelard smirked as Rhiannon giggled helplessly, and Gwenllian immediately kicked her to shut her up.

'Out, both of you.'

Heinrix waited until they had both vanished before approaching with a gentle, teasing smile.

'It is a lot of pink.'

She noticed his hands were held behind his back.

'Heinrix-'

'I believe gifts are traditional on this day, are they not?'

She blushed again. 'I didn't get you anything. Unless a dead Drukhari raiding party counts.'

'I don't mind.'

She rose to her feet, moved to the ormolu drinks cabinet and poured for them both.

'You're limping,' came a concerned voice. She shrugged.

'Got clipped. It is what it is.'

'I refuse to accept that.'

Heinrix was suddenly behind her, tall and broad, and she felt her heart skip a little at the soft whisper of him removing his gloves.

'Where?'

'Left calf. It's really nothing-'

But he was knelt behind her, and she felt the ankle zip of her bodyglove being undone and his cool, gentle hands removing the bandage beneath.

'Oh, Gwen,' he chastised.

'You try facing a razorflail and getting away with it. I was playing bait for Kibellah.'

He tutted, laid a hand either side of the ragged gash as she winced. 'Drink up.'

She threw back the sacra and braced as he knitted the torn flesh together. This was her least favourite part of having him around, she had decided.

'That hurts-'

'Hush.'

He was soon upright again, stood closer than propriety allowed, and she watched as he downed his own drink.

'Thankyou,' she said, flexing the calf gently.

'Stop getting hurt ' he instructed.

'And then what would you do all day?'

He chuckled. Shyly, she took his hand, squeezed his fingers gently. Their eyes met, and she blushed again as he lifted her free hand to rub at the dried blood on her cheek.

'It's not mine,' she reassured him, and he smiled.

'Good.'

She closed her eyes helplessly as he kissed her, long and slow. They were interrupted by soft footfalls, and they broke apart to find a servitor bearing an enormous tray.

'What's this?'

'Dinner. I thought you might be hungry.'

They both laughed as her stomach immediately, audibly gurgled.

'Let me just wash my face at least,' she smiled, and he nodded. She hurried through to the bathroom, stripped out of the torn bodyglove and dunked into the bath, briefly. A dress appeared on the couches while she was scrubbing off blood, and she sighed but didn't argue.

It was pale pink silk.

Barefoot, she padded back through to the reception space, and the look on Heinrix' face before he managed to school it back into something closer to neutrality made the entire ridiculousness of the evening worth it.

'You look- very pretty,' he smiled hesitantly, proffering a glass of wine. She blushed, taking a seat next to him.

They ate, talked of inconsequentials, shipboard gossip and current rumours, and when they were finished he took her hand and led her to the regicide table. It had, she noted, had pink roses stuffed into every crevice of the bookshelf behind it.

'Before we begin,' he started, sounding a little nervous, 'I have a gift for you.'

There was a tall, opaque cloche in the middle of the table.

'I didn't get you anything,' she repeated helplessly, and he chuckled.

'I don't care. Open it.'

Under the black glass was a potted sapling, and she felt her heart stop as she recognised the tiny tree immediately, despite never having seen one in real life.

'Oh, Heinrix...' she breathed, reaching out trembling fingers to touch the young, green leaves. 'Is this- is this what I think it is?'

'If you believe it to be a nalwood sapling, he said gently, sliding his arms around her waist from behind her, 'you would be correct.'

She bit her lip, abruptly.

Lost Tanith. A little piece of long-lost Tanith, just for her.

'But how-'

'A little bit of cloning, a little bit of luck, and some negotiation with your High Factotum.'

He held a data-slate in front of her, and she took a sharp breath. The pict was of a tree nursery, hundreds of saplings in neat rows, and she thought she might cry.

'Choose a planet,' Heinrix said. 'It can be Tanith made anew.'

She turned in his arms to look up into his face.

'Why?'

'Because I can,' he said simply. 'Because I want to.'

[saraneth87]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

A fresh entry in the beach chapter short mid-length, in which our heroes go exploring and Heinrix is troubled by his thoughts.