𝐄𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐱 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐭! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ೃ 𐙚⋆. ˚࿔ 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁
The weight of the heavy, red cloak of his uniform always felt twice as heavy at the end of the day.
Easthies unclasped the fastens at his collar, his fingers slightly stiff from hours of gripping his staff and signing disciplinary decrees. His eyes ached. As the captain of his squad, the burden of maintaining order among the Pointed Caps, of hunting down those who dared to transgress the laws of magic, rested squarely on his shoulders.
He closed the door to his private quarters, letting out a rare, exhaustive sigh. The room was sparse, functional, and devoid of the whimsical comforts other witches favored. He was looking forward to nothing more than a few hours of dreamless sleep.
Then, he stopped.
A cool draft brushed against the back of his neck. His gaze snapped to the stone arched window. It was unlatched. Barely a finger’s width ajar, but enough to set every instinct he possessed on a razor's edge.
Easthies didn’t hesitate. His hand gripped his pen instinctively, his posture locking into a defensive stance. He scanned the shadows of his room, his sharp eyes cutting through the dim candlelight, searching for the telltale glimmer of forbidden glyphs or an intruder’s silhouette.
Instead, a faint, unnatural mist began to roll over the sill. It swirled with a quiet, mesmerizing grace, pooling onto the stone floor before condensing into a shape right behind him.
Before he could spin around, a pair of arms wrapped gently over his shoulders from behind. A familiar, soft warmth pressed against his back, and a teasing voice whispered directly into his ear.
"Miss me?"
Easthies didn’t flinch. The rigid tension in his shoulders slowly, begrudgingly melted away. He let out a long, slow breath, closing his eyes for a fraction of a second.
"You are incredibly foolish," Easthies murmured, his voice low and raspy from the long day, though he made no move to push her away. "You could be killed just trying to cross into this territory. What are you doing here?"
You let out a soft, melodic laugh, resting your chin on his shoulder, completely unbothered by his stern tone. "Please, Easthies. Give me some grace. I wouldn't dare be that careless. Besides, you didn't answer my question. Did you miss me?"
He didn't answer right away. His mind drifted, pulling him back through the years, peeling away the layers of the hardened man he had become.
He remembered when you were both just small apprentices, studying under the same roof. Even back then, your genius was undeniable. You possessed a breathtaking prowess for magic, drawing clean glyphs with a creativity that left teachers marvelling. But alongside that talent was a bottomless, insatiable curiosity, a desire to know what lay beyond the rigid boundaries established by the dynamic of the pointed caps.
That curiosity had eventually led you down a forbidden path. You had chosen the Brimmed Cap, embracing the wild, restricted magic that the rest of society feared.
And he? He had joined the Knights Moralis. He became the shield and the sword meant to eradicate exactly what you had become.
By all rights, I should report you, he thought, a familiar, bitter irony twisting in his chest. I should draw my pen and execute the law on the spot.
He had told himself that the first night you snuck into his quarters years ago. He had told himself that dozens of times since. Yet, every single time you appeared like a phantom in the night, his resolve crumbled. He loved you too much. He was selfish—disgustingly so, by his own moral standards—for turning a blind eye to a Brim Hat.
But even with that love, he could never join you. The mere thought of becoming a Brim Hat himself, of breaking the fundamental laws of their world, filled him with a deep, visceral disgust. He was a creature of order; you were a creature of the forbidden. They were two forces that should have destroyed each other on sight.
Instead, he turned around in your embrace, his hands coming up to gently grip your wrists. He looked down into your eyes, his expression a mix of exhaustion and affection.
"Be careful," he said, his voice dropping to a fierce, quiet whisper. "If the guards catch even a whisper of your ink..." He trailed off, shaking his head. He looked toward his bed. "Spend the night. If you're going to risk your life to come here, you might as well stay put where it's safe."
A radiant smile broke across your face. "I'd love to."
With a soft sigh of contentment, you reached up and slid the wide-brimmed hat from your head, setting it carefully on his desk. Without an ounce of hesitation, you climbed into his bed, pulling the heavy, unadorned blankets up to your chin.
Easthies watched you, a faint, barely visible softening in his eyes. His bed was notoriously uncomfortable, stiff, practical, and meant for a soldier, not a regular witch. He complained about it to himself most days. But as he extinguished the candles, removed his heavy outer coat, and lay down beside you, the stiffness of the mattress seemed to vanish.
You immediately slid closer, snuggling into his side and resting your head against his chest. Easthies wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close, burying his face into your hair.
For a few hours, the rules didn't exist. The forbidden magic of the Brim Hats didn't exist. In the quiet sanctity of the dark room, listening to the steady rhythm of each other's breathing, they were just two small apprentices again, finding comfort in the only person who truly understood them.
