[This post is from Thordin’s point of view.]
He snuck out to the fire. Perhaps he extruded some kind of aura that strongly suggested that he be left alone—it wouldn’t have surprised him if he did—but no one pestered him while he quickly threw together some oatmeal with fruit and a quick hash of leftover bacon and potato—leftover from the morning’s breakfast, it seemed, ended an hour before, sometime between when he’d left the watch and moved on to the watch that was more important.
There was the normal activity in the area—folks headed to the forge or out to the greenhouses, walking the walls, making repairs, working on the rooftops and starting to build the structures that Thom had designed and engineered over the long months of winter. They were taking advantage of the respite they had, regardless of how long or short it may end up being.
They always felt too short.
He made two cups of tea and snagged one of the old cafeteria trays stacked on a sideboard, loading it up with Sif’s breakfast and tea for both of them before he quietly made his way back to where he’d left her.
It shouldn’t have surprised him to see her sitting up when he came back in, her covers shoved back and the pale gray nightshirt they’d dressed her in peeled up so she could inspect the bandages wrapped around her midsection. She glanced toward him as the door opened, a touch startled and perhaps a little chagrined.
“I just—”
“It’s all right,” he said quietly, setting the tray down on the bedside table. Thordin sat down on the edge of the bed, tangling his fingers in her hair and leaning in. Her lips met his and she wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pressing close.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered against his lips. “I’m so sorry.”
“Shut up,” he murmured. “I’m just glad you’re going to be all right.”
“I—”
He kissed her harder and she moaned softly, arm tightening around him as she dragged him down on top of her, wound and all. He tried to brace himself with one hand, so he wouldn’t fall, keeping most of his weight off of her. Her fingers caressed his cheek and jaw.
Sif’s gaze was fierce when they both came up for air.
“We will have our forever,” she breathed, eyes glittering in the dim light of their room.
Then she kissed him again and not for the first time, Thordin realized that he’d forgive anything if it meant he could be with her—for a second, or for forever. It didn’t matter.
I love her and that’s all that matters anymore.
Very nice.
However, first paragraph:
“leftover from the morning’s breakfast, it seemed, ended an hour before, ”
I had a bit of a time parsing that sentence.