It is four-thirty am and I can't sleep so here I am writing fic lmao. This one is for the lovely @reachfolk , enjoy bestie 💕
Meeting with a wandering clan never failed to comfort him, even if this particular clan seemed more wary of outsiders than most- they kept eyeing Lydia and Lucien distrustfully, even after Ruaidri had vouched for them. He decided to give the group of Cinder-Hearts the benefit of the doubt; for all he knew, their camp had been raided recently. As it happened, he and his friends were not the only visitors, a young woman roughly Mairenn's age was also present. She bore the mark of Nimaigh on her face, her bright copper hair braided in the manner of an accomplished flame-dancer, her hands stained from alchemical work. He liked her already, even though seeing her brought a bittersweet longing for home.
Ruaidri wandered nearer to her when he realized she was having trouble communicating with the clan's alchemist. "Myself... wanted... glow... flower?" the girl said hesitantly in reachspeech, pointing at a bowl full of gleamblossom seeds. Her words had a strong Nordic influence to them, but he could still understand her, and there was definitely no cause for the alchemist to be so, so callous towards the poor girl.
"Idiot girl," the man growled, "play-acting at being a true daughter of the Reach! I will not sell to Nord pretenders, Silver-blooded usurper, whore's daughter! Take your blood-coin and leave!"
Ruaidri neatly stepped in front of the woman (she looked close to tears, because even if she hadn't understood a word the alchemist said, the man's face was plain to read.) and pointedly rested a hand on his sword hilt, drawing his shoulders back and making himself a wall between a girl his little sister's age and a fool's hatred. "If you have a problem, friend, speak so the one you have issue with can understand. Or does your clan not believe in courtesy?" Ru said, smiling with too many teeth.
"The girl is a, a usurper, you fool! A filthy Nordic half-breed! She doesn't deserve to wear the mark of our gods, probably doesn't even follow them!"
Ruaidri drew his blade, laying the tip almost casually on the man's shoulder. "Oh, I see now!" he said, faux cheerful. "You're a bigot! What a wretched life you must have!"
Ruaidri pressed the sword tip to the alchemist's jugular. "No, you see here, you miserable ass. How dare you, reject and debase this girl just for her father's name! A daughter of the Prydyni has come home, has been returned to us by the grace of the gods, and you, in your small-minded prejudice, are more concerned with the person her mother joined with to survive, than the fact she returned at all? How dare you! If this girl is a Silver-blood by birth, then is it not remarkable, cause for celebration, even, that she gave up that life to join her mother's people? You should be ashamed, you complete bastard!" The alchemist opened his mouth, and Ruaidri pressed at the sword hilt just enough to scratch; a very clear warning for a very stubborn man. He bared his teeth in a snarl, daring the man, or indeed anyone else, to do or say something stupid. (What he did not know: for a single moment, all his teeth were dragon-sharp.) Then he sheathed his sword and briskly herded the girl away.
The girl's name was Alexandria (Alastriona, his uncle's voice insisted.), and she thanked him quietly through sniffling. (Lucien patted her back awkwardly, like he didn't know what to do with his hands.) She had wanted the seeds for a friend, as a thank-you for teaching her how to braid her hair in the proper style for her magical strengths. Ruaidri immediately handed her a small satchel of his own gleamblossom seeds, pressing it into her hands.
"Oh, but, are you sure? I don't want to just take your things, I-"
"Consider it a gift, sister. Welcome home."
