Thick hair that wasn't mine spilled over my shoulder. As a familiar hand, warm and calloused, wrapped itself around my throat. I hadn't realized how cold the room had gotten, until her hand was there, skin warm against my skin. It had taken a while to get used to this.
I was grateful, in a way. For the the day she had done more then just scoff at my scarf. Telling me I would freeze. The way she had gotten worried. Pulled off her gloves, grumbling all the while, too fuss over me like some great mother bear. Hands warm but gentle, as the tucked themselves around my throat. Too better warm my blood, she had said.
It had been like a dam breaking.
And honestly? She WAS right. It was warm.
Now, whenever she so much as SUSPECTED I was cold? Her hand would sneak out to press against my pulse. Though, half the time, I suspected it was an excuse. She'd not had many chances for closeness in her life, I suspect. Calysta was the... ah, it was hard to translate, but... the CLOSEST translation? Was something like "Child of The Mountain Gods".
Or was it "Child of the Mountains AND the Gods"?
I was supposed to be writing a treatise on the subject. Gods knows no one ELSE would. Cowards. Bigots too. "Nothing but savages" my silk clad ASS. And they dare call themselves academics!? Ha! HA, I say! Both my professors and I would SPIT! (If it weren't WILDLY rude. I never COULD master that skill. I did try.)
Unfortunately, my professors, were too old to make the journey this far North. It hadn't stopped them from TRYING, when we had finally gotten permission. But... well. They barely made it too Wuntersgreen before the strain and cold became too much. They cried.
As the youngest? I was loaded down with their notes, questions, hopes and dreams, and sent on ahead. No one was impressed by me. The scrawny academic with her soft, soft hands. Never a day's fight in her. Didn't know how to do "anything". But? That had given their word to host me. So they did.
It's been AMAZING.
And I like to think I'm getting better!
Adapting. Learning how to do things and help around the castle. I even helped start a fire for the fireplace the other day! Before THAT? I learned how to set hunting traps... rather badly. I have yet to catch anything. But still! Progress, is it not?
Where was I? Ah, yes.
Calysta. Her rank is something between a Warlord and a King, as far as I can tell? It holds the respected sovereignty of a ruling monarch yet? Can be seized. Should she grow "weak". Is not NECESSARILY passed too one's children. They, presumably, have an ADVANTAGE... but? It goes too "the Chosen child of..." that word I'm still having some difficulty getting a good translation off.
And if I remember correctly, Calysta's brother's did NOT appreciate that. As they had been favored by her father. Showered with praise most of their lives. One of them ASSUMED to be the next leader.
They challenged her.
Did not back down.
Now? Now she has neither Father nor brothers. Not that it seems she had much of either to begin with. Frankly? I am GLAD she won. She is good for the North. Strong, steady, highly tactical. A wry wit. And a FEIRCE love for her people and culture. NO ONE will take it from her. Destroy these beautiful peoples.
I'm tugged back lightly, away from my desk to sit up properly against the back of my chair. The hand on my neck shifting softly, ever so slightly up, to cup the underside of my jaw. Tilting my head up so I can not see my work but must instead meet the eyes of my dear friend.
"Enough, little mouse." There is a fondness to the edge of her mouth, she is not one for great grins and wild expressions. It has taken me months to learn how to read her so well. "Your papers will still be there AFTER you warm up. Should be easier to right, don't you think, when you can actually feel your fingers again?"
I huff a laugh.
Honestly... where would I be with out her? Frozen to death, probably. I get entirely to fixated on my work. Food, drink, keeping the fire running. I notice none of it. Probably shrivel up and die. The fact she even takes the time to check on me? Dispite being as important as she is? Let NO ONE say Calysta does not CARE. She is a good person.
My legs feel numb and prickly, stiff, in that distinctly asleep and too cold sort of way, as I try to stand. Calysta has to wrap her arm around my waste and let me lean against her. She feels almost too hot against me. Another sure sign I have, indeed, allowed myself to get too cold. Oh dear.
With an exasperated snort, once it becomes clear my legs will probably not be recovering fast enough for her liking, Calysta decides she will speed things along. My legs are swept out from under me effortlessly. I don't even squeek anymore, this has happened so often. But I USED too.
It is how I became "mouse".
Now I just allow Calysta her way. She'll put me down when she wants to put me down. And honestly? It's kinda fun to be carried like a child. I feel tall. Weightless and somewhat decadent, it makes my heart beat a faster. And on somedays? All I want to do is go boneless. Allow myself to be HELD. Not that I'll ever tell. So Shhhhh, a secret to our graves, okay? It would make things awkward for her.
She strolls down the hall with me, too her office. No one so much as blinking an eye. We've become so common in our shenanigans, I imagine, it's become mundane. And... ah~ Calysta was RIGHT. I WAS cold. The fireplace in her office is full with logs burning away merrily. The windows we passed in the hall showed snow. It seems the storm's finally hit..
Instead of putting me down, Calysta heads for the couch. Turning and with a huff, flopping down, making both of us bounce a bit. Leaning back with me less in her arms now, so much as in her lap. The room is quiet. Hushed almost. The crackle of fire, the distant howl of wind, far away chatter of life, elsewhere in the castle.
Calysta has leaned back against the back of her office's couch. Head rested against the fur blanket draped against the back of it. The fur mixes with her riotous man of hair to create almost a halo, lit in golds by the fire's light. Her eyes are closed as she takes her moment. The fire light makes her face softer.
But never soft.
No force in all the world could make Calysta anything but the Queen she is. Dangerous and powerful. First into battle and last to leave. She is breath taking in the way all deadly things are, I think. Like blades and poison held up to the light. Predators and fires that burn.
"You're staring, little mouse." She says, voice nearly a whisper in the softness of the room. It is a rumble like mountains and the sweet call of dangerous things. She's always had such a commanding voice. I envy it. "Is my face so entrancing?"
She's smirking. Teasing me. I laugh and rest my head against her shoulder. Let myself drift as the chill in my bones fades away. The arm loosely around my waist to keep me from falling off, has taken to lightly stroking my back. Almost absent-mindedly. Occasionally, fingers playing with the ends of my hair.
A servant has come-by. Removed our shoes for us. Brought Calysta missives and responses. General updates. She shifts us. Tucking me against her as she lays down, tucking me between her body and the couch. Fuzzy blanket over me, arm wrapped around me. I... I feel boneless.
Safe.
Everything warm and quiet and far away.
Trusting, I doze off. Cuddling close and utterly content.
Calysta presses a kiss to the crown of my sleeping head. Let's her hand roam, just a bit, simply to feel the perfect way her little mouse fits right up against her. She was MADE for her. Born to be here. Still... she has to be... be GENTLE. Soft.
It's hard. She hasn't had much practice in that.
But good things are worth the struggle for them. True love is WORTH the time, the effort, to learn how the South romance. Figuring out how to woo her lil mouse as she deserves. Making sure she never leaves.
Speaking off...
She diges out the ridiculous fancy paper envelope at the bottom of the stack. Hidden, as per her instructions, so her little Mouse wouldn't see it. Another one, it seems, from that damn "House" of hers. Southern Clans were pretty damn presumptuous, weren't they? Had some fucking gall.
What did THIS one say?
Let's she... "come back at once" blah blah blah "how dare you ignore all our letters" blah blah "you WILL honor the engagement we've found for you, or ELSE" oh? Threats now, huh? Ah~? "Keep ignoring our letters and you'll be cast from House-" well, well~!
That's convenient.
One flick of the wrist, and the letter is in the fireplace. Burning away. Just like all before it. Oops. How difficult it is, to get news from the South. Her little mouse really SHOULD just forget about them. THIS is her home now. THEY are her people.
Her girl doesn't need anyone else.
"Don't worry, little love. I won't leave you out in the cold. You're gonna stay with me. Forever. I Promise."
