with no healer in the strath, germanicus did not go far for his field medicking. the morass offered a rank place replete with mud, but shadows in which botanists might find their necessary leaves.
he discovered comfrey and yarrow here, a sprinkle of geranium. the eagle placed the mixture badly, as he could not reach his nape. he rolled upon it and thought it well enough for now, the scabs protected from breaking and oozing once more.
germanicus would not admit that the physical repercussions of that fight had lasted longer than expected. stiffly he rose, mud and leafery falling from his shoulders as he limped back toward the strath.
The days grew starkly colder—with this, a sense of urgency coiled in the younger woman’s belly, pulling her—but she did not know what for.
To settle?
To call it quits?
To seek companionship?
Pale lilac eyes blinked, her jaws widening in a yawn, though it held the duress of stress rather than fatigue with it. Whatever there was to it, she had to do something soon—the small squirrel at her paws was the grandest feast she had in days now.
Reaching down to pluck her quarry back up, eager to leave this more morose area behind. Much of the valleys and mountains had left her thirsty for the taste of freedom and adventure—something about this specific area felt far more lackluster.
Or, perhaps it was her mood.
She froze when she saw a dark wolf rolling—jaws clenching tighter to her meager prize, eyes narrowing before the wolf rose—and she almost barked a laugh at the realization of who she had stumbled upon once more.
it hurt to breathe, a ring of bruises around the ribcage beneath a proverbial breastplate. germanicus continued as far as he was able and then stopped to take even intakes.
but he was not alone. the last individual who the eagle wished to witness him in this state sounded behind him. the charcoal ears flicked. the yellowpaint gaze turned itself upon her.
"you stayed."
an observation he had meant to be silent.
‘You stayed.’
A slender shrug was given in response to that—keen eyes studying the man who seemed stiff—her eyes roving over the mud he had caked himself in. Gingerly, she dropped her pitiful squirrel in favor of conversation, though a certain string of stubborn pride almost wanted to hold her silence.
“Just taking in the pretty scenery and mulling over my options,” she replied smoothly, a small smile given, though it did not quite reach her usually laid-back gaze.
More importantly: “What happened?” A nod to his injuries—his stiffness.
mírwen received an amused snort, or perhaps one of pain only turned in her direction. with great effort germanicus shoved aside the anguish lancing through his shoulders. he had been injured a dozen times before. he had suffered great wounds and been forced to drag himself to safety across a battlefield churned to bloodied mud. fever he had suffered, the setting of bones with no more remedy for pain than clenching teeth upon a branch.
how odd then, to be so tormented by what equated to a handful of flesh wounds.
"palaces draw politics, politics draw attacks on pharaoh herself. i was there to intervene, though her guardians would have torn him to ruins even if i had not been present."
the eagle's voice was a monotone to keep the strain away.
Her lips pursed—royals and their politics.
Royals and their ability to lay waste to those around them.
The mirth faded from her eyes briefly—her gaze drifting away from him in rumination. “The desert you suggested I seek out, I assume?”
A pause then—a streak of fatigue, mixed with boldness. “You were probably right. I go there—I present myself. Maybe they will give me a choice or options to whom I marry.” Guards to keep her from those at home who missed their princess pawn.
A faux semblance that she had an option in her life… fleeing from one kingdom only to enter another.
She loathed that a part of him had perhaps been right... that she was not cut for this life of barely surviving. Spoiled, pampered brat.
She held back a bitter smile, fleeting as it may be. “Do you need anything for the pain?”
"i will live."
what germanicus wanted was to sit with the agony which he had finally accepted was not from the wolfsteeth slashing in his skin but the band of hot fire around his ribcage.
something had broken and he was unwilling yet to devote attention in its direction.
the yellowpaint eyes belonged to her then, for as long as he could distract himself. "the palace of muat-riya is very beautiful with bounties of food and eager servants." germanicus teased mírwen in this for a moment of brevity.
now his gaze went to the paltry thing she had caught for herself. "have you had a full meal since last we spoke?"
He preened at her with his words—they left much to be desired. A palace—beautiful, allegedly, fit for the politics and vipers that likely roamed its halls. Eager servants. Her mouth tipped in a downward moue before she masked it.
He asked her of her meals, pulling her from her reverie—she looked blankly down to her catch—one she was proud of, thank you very much. “Of course,” she smoothed, a wry smile pulling at the corner of her lips as she swept her waif-like form to a gentle seat. “Don’t fret about me, Germanicus—I’ve been able to wile my time away with a man here or there,” she mused.
A blatant lie.
But how would he know?
he would know only that her mien had not changed in the way one's did when they had known the pleasure of embrace. germanicus had been alive long enough to see this subtlety in both himself and others, in both being the one to give and the one to be gifted.
a shallow breath took his focus for a moment as he did not wish to expand his chest so far.
either she lied or she had found men who did not change her. a third and worse thought was that mírwen had traded her favours for better hunting.
perhaps this was only royalty in her bearing, an impassivity to rival his own albeit in different ways.
mírwen did not mean to go to the palace no matter his jibes.
"you might do well to settle with one for the winter. hunting will only become harder." the eagle eased down, spine to nearby tree. "did you find all you sought?" the ranger asked, curious despite himself, the tactician's silent mind working ahead of what answer she might give.
He did not call her out on her bluff—whether because he was oblivious, a gentleman, or he simply didn’t care… the checkmark could have been by any of those options.
Instead, she could see the way in which he tried to restrict movement—subtle, allowing himself to slide down a nearby tree, continuing on with conversation that she felt best left behind. Within five minutes of being within the man’s presence, he was already trying to convince her to find a home for the winter.
One in a desert, far from here.
A crooked smile came—did he fear her presence around his children? Eligible sons, perhaps? Wouldn’t want the rebellious princess to rub off on them, no doubt…
Her eyes followed him, and she swept upward, though made no move to encroach upon his space. “Do you know of anyone who can look after your wounds for you? Your children, perhaps?” She paused, a glimmer of mischief setting in. “A lady friend? Or a man friend?”
She teased at him... but the truth was, he looked to be in need of a healer, and she disliked the idea of the man withering away to pride.
mírwen did not continue with their lackadaisical conversation and he was secretly grateful. the focus of their discourse turned back upon him and he shifted against the tree in discomfort, both for his injuries and for her attention.
germanicus felt it was better placed elsewhere. "the only one among us who knows perfunctory medicine is me. there are no friends of either persuasion."
he would not die. the gods had dragged him through things much worse. and the eagle no longer knew if this was a relief or a fear. "do not sign up to tend ageing men too stubborn to avoid a fight," and at last germanicus delivered a cracked grin, genuine if tight now with the pain that had seemed to grow with each moment.
‘There are no friends of either persuasion…’
She snorted in a bout of mirth. “It must be because you’re so approachable,” she admonished with a light tease.
A wayward eye cast to him, a shift in her slender form, she pulled the squirrel toward her. She would have pointed out that he hardly seemed aging—far more likely he was in his prime. Given his stuffy nature, it wasn’t likely such a statement would be taken as a compliment.
“If a man is too stubborn to avoid a fight, perhaps he should try to find himself a medical friend of sorts,” she surmised ruefully. She began to pluck the fur from the carcass delicately. “Tell me… How do you plan to hunt yourself a meal, being as banged up as you are?”
germanicus wanted to join her laughter even if it left him wincing. he felt ancient, as old as the tree at his back, and mírwen's youthful antics did not help with the sensation.
and yet he did not wish to be elsewhere.
to know mírwen thought of him as stuffy would have greatly amused the eagle. such descriptions were far too apt to ignore. "my son and daughter will hunt for me," germanicus answered, "and i shall will myself to heal faster."
a joke, a jest. he shut his eyes and leant his head back against the trunk behind him. "you seem to find me approachable, mírwen. this is our second meeting and once more i have suggested you seek your own way. and yet you have not."
ignoring whatever ramifications his mind insisted upon, serendipitous or otherwise, germanicus found her gaze. no smile formed upon the firmly held mouth, but his eyes were searching.
for what, he did not know.
“Maybe I’m just curious to why you keep trying to spirit me away somewhere,” she murmured with a saccharine smile. Delicately, she rose, jaws grasping the squirrel before closing the distance between the two of them and plopping the thing rather unceremoniously in front of him with an arched brow, even as his gaze simmered upon her.
“Maita,” she murmured, albeit with a certain sharpness that one raised as royalty might provide. “Eat. It’s minimal, but it should help aide your strength until your kids find you something larger.”
"perhaps it is because i know what it is to be both alone and determined to stay as such until i found my way out of it."
hunger arched its skinny sides against the corners of his stomach. he had eaten very little since his return from akashingo and knew he needed more. taking the limp squirrel would be an admission of that.
germanicus at last swept the animal closer. "if i accept this, does it mean that we are courting?" the imperator inquired in a dry voice, an allusion to a certain tiny acorn still twisted into the fur of his shoulder, if one knew where to look for it.
finally he began to eat, controlling his movements in hopes of saving himself further pain.
She registered his words—she would have added her own spin to it—that after being suffocated her entire life, the quiet was a nice reprieve… even if temporary, but she didn’t wish to dwell on the topic of her upbringing.
Not until she determined her next move, and how her past would play to her future.
When he accepted her offering, she was pleased for a moment—until the sardonic murmur gave her pause, and she then recalled the acorn she had made him. She laughed—a true laugh, at the reminder—and upon instinct, her eyes grazed briefly over him, seeing no sign of such—but not feeling insulted by such a whimsical gift.
“Can’t have had many decent courting gifts if you think a squirrel is a worthy one,” she retorted, stepping back to allow him his space so he could quiet his hunger—replenish himself, even if the meal was small.
"we do not give courting gifts in editum or mereo." some measure of the eagle's strength had returned, though he was not finished with the squirrel until he too had cracked the small bones and fished out the marrow.
at last the imperator relaxed somewhat against the tree, though his breaths remained tightly reined. each second that he did not seek a healer was a second in which he could become permanently compromised.
mírwen's laughter had been a balm.
"it is far more straightforward. if you wish to be married, you simply declare your intentions and find a den together. courtship is not for soldiers who are often gone long months."
his voice was even but germanicus had lost some of his careful expressions to reveal a flicker here and there of the gnawing affliction inside.
“Mmm… Speaks to how whimsical and flowery royalty is, doesn’t it?”
A quiet notion, mostly—in truth, she felt nothing wrong with the way of his people. Succinct… to the point. Still, to marry a soldier would be lonely, she surmised—though the guards she remained familiar with remained closer to their home, guarding the kingdom borders.
His breathing was tight—his eyes denoted something to her—pain, perhaps? As much as she wished to carry on conversations of lighthearted nature, she inclined her muzzle lower, a light tip of slender ivory, her lavender eyes seeking out gold. “You truly don’t know of anyone who can assist you medically?” She paused. Waiting—and then: “If you don’t, you realize I might need to go find someone to help, right?”
He was not okay. Despite his bravado—or his desire to be, winter was not a time to roll the dice on whether an injury would heal gracefully on its own or not.
through the malaise a small curve found its way to his mouth, self-deprecating and almost bemused. "all my bridges have been set afire. the only ones who live here know me for who i was, and who i affected."
another breath. germanicus pictured the fractured end of a rib poised over some vital organ as if it were a pike above the heart of an enemy. he found that he preferred such sentiment, accepted it. the eagle knew this was no death in battle but understood as well that this would provide an easier way for valiria and aquillius to reassimilate with the redhawks or those their father had alienated.
and so, to mírwen, he extended a paw. "there is no one. please stay. speak to me of anything you wish."
the hovering gesture, withdrawn, but his mouth quirked once more, the yellowpaint eyes closing for a moment.
Burned bridges had left him here, aline, in a moment of need.
He was in pain--as their conversation continued, it was becoming more apparent, even to one who wasn't exactly the most selfless creature.
He invited her to ask him anything--and she bitndown a snipe about how these children he spoke fondly of were not here, by his wounded side.
Instead, a frown marred her delicate features. I dislike the idea of you keeling over dead infront of me,
she spoke then, wondering what he thought about that. It seems traumatic. And probably entirely avoidable if you weren't being so stubborn...
"perhaps i am tired of living."
the words fell and germanicus found he meant them. he did not shift, his injuries great, but offered her a soft look. "i am not going to die here. you may accompany me back to the strath if you wish."
to be sure. to be certain.
‘Perhaps I am tired of living,’ he issued to her, and she found a frown mar her features as she studied him sharply. “Then you’re doing it wrong,” she decided, offering that clarity to him before ushering a low chuff.
He invited her then to accompany him back to the strath—allegedly where he had kids to look after him.
“I think you’re scared of introducing me to your kids,” she decided then—as if to distract him from depressing thoughts.