3 comments/ 12187 views/ 4 favorites Becoming Woman Ch. 01 By: NaivelyWandering Author's note: There are no quick fixes here. I've taken what I wanted from the ages, and left behind what I didn't want, and therefore the resulting chapters are not nearly close to historically accurate. Thank-you again, Kelly for your help editing! "PAPA! PAPA!" A commotion outside his window drew the King's attention, and Imlan looked out of his study window to see his children screaming for him, clinging to Gamon, galloping desperately towards the castle. Before he could think to move, he saw Balron, his chief battle strategist and First Knight, meet them in the castle courtyard. His senses returning, he took the tower steps two at a time, sprinting through the stone halls and out to the entrance, meeting his children just inside the castle walls. "Flein? Fohnrir? What is it? What's wrong?!" The young woman and man ran into his arms, slamming his body with their own. Much too old to be clinging to him so tightly, trembling into his cloaks. "My Lord, they say it was an ambush out past the Forest of Dunhill. Thirty raiders, maybe more," Balron said, watching the twins gripping their father. "Papa, there was a woman, she saved us and-" Fohnrir sobbed, unable to go on. "-she made Gamon bring us home, we couldn't help her fight them," Flein finished for his twin sister. Imlan nodded into his children's hair, rubbing soothing circles on their backs. "Balron, take your best battalion. I want those bandits dead," he ordered, and his second in command nodded and turned, yelling orders at the door guards. "We'll find them, and deal with them," he said, and bowed, leaving his King to tend to his children. "And the woman!" Fohnrir shouted, pulling back out of her father's grasp. "She needs your help!" Imlan and Balron exchanged significant looks, both thinking exactly the same thing. A single woman stood no chance, facing thirty merciless raiders, but the First Knight nodded once to the young woman, and headed for the armoury. ---------- Balron looked around the strewn battlefield. The raiders had put his soldiers to the test, but in the end, his men had bested them with very few casualties on their side. Now, his men pulled the corpses of the greasy pack together. They'd stay until the pile of dead bodies was nothing but ash. He'd seen enough battles himself to have learned to close his nose to the stink of burning flesh, and instead focussed on looking for the mysterious woman the Prince and Princess had spoken of between the ruin of bodies. Just as he began to doubt the woman had even existed, a shout caught his attention. "Sir! Come quickly!" Balron turned his attention to one of his squires, a short, skinny, young redhead who'd only seen battle twice, leaning over a body, thirty paces away. "What is it? Dead or alive?" "Alive, and a woman, I think, Sir," he replied, using the tip of his sword to lift the blood-stained tunic. "Enough of that," Balron cursed, kicking the sword-tip away. He saw why Don had trouble distinguishing the gender. Her dark brown hair was cut ragged and short, not even touching her shoulders, her face covered in blood and dirt. He'd never seen a woman wearing a tunic and breeches before, and frowned at the strange sight of her. He pulled his helmet off to get a better look. Kneeling down, he inspected her wounds, noting the dirty, black dagger stabbed through her left arm. Touching the edge of the blade, he ran his finger over his tongue. Don gagged at the sight of his Master licking the droplet of blood off his finger, and was relieved to see him immediately spit it back out. "Poisoned. Help me get her on horseback. Lord Imlan will want to see she survives long enough to hear his gratitude," he said, and together, he and Don picked her up. "She's bleeding underneath," Don muttered, seeing blood trickle down his arm. "Damn. Turn her over then." Balron grimaced; if her injuries were too grave, there would be no point returning her to the kingdom. Being careful not to agitate the injured arm, they moved her over onto her side so that Balron could see to her back. Through the torn tunic, a deep gash ran from her right shoulder, down to the middle of her spine. "She's too far gone, she won't make it," Don realised aloud, watching his captain's expression change. "She will if we hurry. Get her on the horse and make for the healing houses. Don't stop for anything or anyone." "Aye, Sir." Uninterested in being backhanded for arguing with his captain, Don helped him lift the dying girl onto his horse, and then climbed on behind her, holding her in place. He didn't believe there was a giddy goat's chance she'd live, but he knew better than to disobey an order. "Tell the King of our success. We'll return before sun-down. Now, go!" he said, and slapped the horse's rump, sending his squire away with his charge. Turning back to the burning pile of enemy bodies, Balron watched the flames lick high into the afternoon sky, watched the flames turn from orange to red and back again, and even a man of strength, such as himself shivered at the dark omen. Don held the dying girl to his chest as he rode the mare hard back to the kingdom. He dared not hold her injured arm with the knife still buried through it, but it jostled badly, and he ended up holding it against her own chest, feeling the blade under her skin, making him swallow back bile. As soon as he was within the castle gates, guards rushed forward, and helped lower the girl off the beast. His mail was covered in her blood; he sighed to himself, and dropped down too, following them as they carried her swiftly to the healing houses. "Squire! Where is your master?" Emble, the King's personal advisor joined him as they watched the guard lower the woman gently onto one of the beds. The healers ushered the guards out, but left Don and Emble together. "He sees to the burning of the enemy, my Lord. We have been victorious." "And there were none of our men injured?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at the young man's blood-covered chainmail. "A few dead, Handsworth and another I don't know, but no others with serious injuries, my lord. Sir Balron told me to bring this woman back-" "SH!" One of the healers turned from attending to their patient to give them a nasty glare. "Go and fetch the king from his study. If this is the woman who saved the prince and princess, then he will want to thank her before she dies." Don nodded and bowed, then left the advisor to watch the healers tend to the woman. Running through the castle to the King's study, Don stopped abruptly outside the door when he heard both twins and father engaged in a heated discussion. "You know never to leave boundaries of our land without your personal guard! What were you thinking?!" "We're sorry, papa, we just wanted to swim in the river," Flein started, but his father interrupted him. "The river? Oh, the river!" The King's voice rose in volume even more. "And who would be there to pull you out of the river? Henceforth, I forbid you to leave this castle!" "But, papa-" Fohnrir whined, but her father's glare stopped her from continuing. "No buts. You're lucky you weren't killed! Now, go to your rooms. When Balron returns I'll have him tell you all about the horrors of the raiders and perhaps you'll think twice before running off." "Yes, papa," they replied in sulky unison, and then swept out of the room, passing Don by without a glance. "My Lord?" Don stepped quickly into the room, and Imlan directed his fierce glare at him. "Speak," he said tersely, pacing the study. "My Lord, Sir Balron bade me return with a woman, and to tell you-" "Where is she?" Imlan interrupted, wide-eyed. "In the healing house, Sire," Don replied immediately, and ran to keep up with his King as he swept through the castle, holding his crown on his head as he ran. "It doesn't look good for her. And Sir Balron bade me tell you the attack was a success," he added, panting, but keeping pace with his Lord. "Where?" the King demanded as they came upon the many doors of the healing house. "That one!" Imlan skidded to a halt just inside the room the boy had pointed at. Emble's dark eyes were glued to one of the healers, who had hold of the dagger penetrating a bloodied arm. Just as she pulled intruding weapon from flesh, the woman's eyes opened, and a horrific, high pitched shriek echoed off the walls. Shivers ran up the King's arms at the terrifying scream, Emble flinched, and Don threw his hands over his ears, all staring in shock at the thrashing girl, but her fierce struggle ceased just as quickly as it had started, and she fell back onto the bedding, lying deathly still. "Out, my Lords. Out! NOW!" the healer hollered, and shooed the three men out of the room, more healers coming running to her aide. Imlan paced the corridor outside like a caged animal. He'd released the squire to clean himself up hours ago, and was left with his advisor Emble, exuding calm as always, sitting wrapped in his robes on the stonework windowsill, watching his Lord walk back and forth in the corridor. Finally, just as Imlan considered banging his fist against the wooden door, it opened, and a handful of healers stepped wearily out, blood covering most of their hands. They nodded and bowed as they walked past him, and he strode into the room to find only two left with the unconscious girl, one changing the sheets under her from the bloodied mess to fresh linen, the other wiping a damp cloth over her face. She'd even been changed out of the grubby clothes into a clean, cream satin shift. Her left arm was bandaged, and more bandages peeked out over the shoulder of her gown, and he deduced they were wrapped all the way around her chest as well. "Will she live?" Emble asked softly, stepping closer. The healer dabbing at her face nodded, and took the cloth away. "Aye, my Lords, though her injuries are severe. She'll be bedridden for at least a few weeks," she replied, and taking the bowl of water and cloth, she stood back to let Emble, who was knowledgeable in medicines, step up to the unconscious girl's side. "I will stay," Imlan said quietly, and took the wooden seat next to the bed before his Advisor could sit in it. "I wish to thank her properly when she wakes." The healer shrugged and shook her head, unconcerned that she was speaking directly to the lord of the land. "She'll not wake for another day at least. The fever's on her and that's porthos root on her wounds. Even if she does wake, she'll be too muddled to hear you." "Majesty," Emble started, frowning deeply at him, "I can watch over her and call you if she wakes," he said, but Imlan only frowned back at him. "No, Emble. It is my honour to watch over the saviour of my children." "As you wish, Sire," Emble replied, unable to hide his irritation. ---------- Beth turned her face to the setting sun. Standing in the middle of the healing house gardens, she pressed a hand to her distended stomach and allowed herself to drift with the scent of the flowering herbs, taking over the small courtyard garden. A flurry of ivory satin, pale legs and brown hair flew past, and she all but collapsed, but for the strong body capturing her before she could hit the ground. "What was that?" Looking up, she followed her husband's narrowed gaze to the shrinking figure sprinting through the castle grounds. As First Knight to the King, it was Balron's responsibility to make chase, but with his heavily pregnant wife in his arms, he had no desire to attend to his duty. "Are you alright?" he asked, instead of answering her question, steadying her on her feet again. "Yes, hello, husband. And who was that?" Balron considered Beth for a long moment, and taking her hand, began to lead her back into the healing house. "She was wearing a patient's garb; perhaps she's the one from the forest battle. Tam!" he called, gesturing an armoured guard from his post. "A brown haired, female patient just went running towards the great hall. Take ten men and start a search." Balron didn't wait for the guard to nod before returning his attention to his wife, and led her slowly back to her room. ---------- He woke, wrapped in linen bandages, covered in layers of blankets, and what annoyed him most was, he was lying on his back. Rolling over, he saw beside him a dark haired man sitting in a wooden chair, his elbow on his thigh, his chin in his hand. His eyes were closed, and he breathed deeply; asleep then, he realised, and threw back the covers, hissing quietly as pain shot up his arm. Confused at the bandaged limb, he tore at the wrappings frantically, ignoring the sharp pain until the bandage sat torn on his discarded bedcovers. Finally, he was looking at a pale, skinny arm, two deep red cuts surrounded by angry bruising, and covered in a green paste sat on the top and bottom of his forearm. He turned the limb, wondering at the wounds intently, surprised at the delicate look the sight before him had. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he was greeted with two slender, pale limbs, peeking out at him from under a creamy satin skirt. You are no longer what you were, came the witch's voice in his mind, and a vision opened on him of the frantic old woman shrieking into a fire. I call you Morwendor! The ghostly image faded from his eyes. He scrambled his brain, trying and failing to remember what had happened to him. Shaking his thoughts clear, he gave the sleeping man a last glance and slipped from the room. Sniffing the air warily, he could smell sickness and herbs, and found himself unable to get the unsettling taste out of his mouth. Passing an outer hall, a breeze picked up around him, and he turned his nose to it, grateful for the scent of nature, and something else, something that made his mouth water. Pinpointing the enchanting aroma to another building, his senses zoned in, and dismissing everything, he gave into instinct, and went sprinting towards it. Approaching the stone-walled building attached to the tall, pointed castle, Morwendor poked his nose through the window, noting the enticing scent was within. Circling it, he found a door, and skidded inside, elated to find it empty. Right in front of him was the owner of the scent he'd followed, a metal tray keeping it safe. Leaning over until his nose touched it, Morwendor hesitated for one second before shoving both hands in. Whatever it was, it was warm as he dragged his fingers through it, sticky, dark and warm. He brought one hand to his lips while the other still dug happily around in it, and licked a finger. Sweetness like he'd never experienced melted and spread over his tongue, and before he could stop himself, he'd devoured all of it, licked the tray clean, and started sucking each sticky digit in turn until he was satisfied there was nothing left on his hands. His mouth tingled with the remaining sweet, nectar flavour, and his stomach was full, but he found himself not quite as satisfied as he thought he'd be. "Hey! You, there!" Morwendor turned, and stared wide-eyed at the two shining men standing in front of him. He'd seen men shine like that before, knew they wore something that stopped weapons from hurting them, and knew his only option was flight. Remembering the window he'd peered into earlier, he scrabbled up onto the bench, and before the guards could react, jumped backwards out of the window. Expecting to float down gently, he was shocked to land swiftly in a heap on the ground with a crunch and snap. Seething at the searing pain in his back, Morwendor pushed it to the back of his mind as he searched the grounds for an escape. A faint reminder of the sweet food he'd just eaten played on the wind, and as it came from the forest and not his own hands, he followed it, ignoring the growing pain in his left arm and back, and the shouts from the window above. Running under the shade of trees, skipping over jutting roots and rocks, he came to a small clearing, and the faint sweet scent flitted into his nose again. Something white and gold sat in the middle of the clearing, a soft melody met his ears, and somehow it made the scent even more desirable to him. Pricking an ear to the tune being sung, he jogged up to the one making the song and sat on a nearby rock. It was a man, clad in a white tunic, long black pants and leather boots that laced up to his knees. His skin was startlingly pale, and his waist-long hair fell in blonde waves, and Morwendor found himself transfixed by it, the way the sun shone on it. The man watched him with pale blue eyes as he moved closer, until they were just inches from each other, but didn't pause his song, and Morwendor waited, captured by the entrancing melody. As soon as the singing died, the golden-haired man offered him a warm, if tentative smile, and Morwendor sat back, thinking he'd perhaps approached the man too close. The singer exhaled, relaxing and leaned back with his hands on the grass behind him, but Morwendor caught the exhalation, and caught the addictive scent that came with it. Before either could react, Morwendor was on the man, kissing him, hungrily prodding his lips apart, and licking into his mouth, drinking in the intoxicating sweetness. Satisfied he could find no more there, he released the man from his kiss, and turned his attention to his hands, picking one up and then the other, bringing his fingers to his lips, sucking each one in turn. Chirping happily, Morwendor took the last of the sweet nectar from the man's fingers, and opened his eyes. Goosebumps ran down his arms and back, as he realised with horror what he'd just done. He'd pushed the blonde man flat on his back, and held him pinned down with his own body. They were both panting, and knowing exactly what the blunt object pointing into his groin from the one underneath him was, Morwendor scuttled back off him, his eyes wide with shock. Just as the man opened his mouth, he leapt to his feet, and ran as fast as he could, as far as he could. "Master Bard, have you seen a girl around here?" Deln sat up and regarded the two sentries, and wondered if he hadn't been dreaming, after all. "Perhaps. A dark-haired beauty came to this part of the forest not too long ago. She perched herself atop that rock, but didn't stay to exchange words, and went on her way quickly thereafter." The guards gave each other meaningful looks; as head of the minstrels, Deln was known for his vague interpretations and strange mannerisms, and thanking him quickly, they left in the direction he pointed. His secret love was wrapped around him, dark blonde hair tickling his nose, and strong, warrior's hands caressing his bare chest. But when hard, steely blue eyes staring at him with demanding lust written in their pupils turned to fiery copper, he sat up, shocked. Irritated to see the image of his secret crush fade from his mind, he shook his head and turned his attention to the tree line instead. Where the two soldiers had disappeared into the foliage, a rustling came forth, and loud yelling, and after the clanging of metal on wood resounded through the trees, the soldiers burst out again, both cursing at each other. "Ah, so she is real," he mused aloud, watching their return, one carrying the brunette's still form, the other cradling his arm to his chest. "Aye," the one carrying her growled and Deln saw with concern that blood covered her arm and ran down from her shoulder to his hand. "And a miracle to still be alive. Got into a fight with a forest cat by the looks. All bloodied up, we thought she was done for, but when Jove tried to grab her, she snapped his arm like a twig," he huffed. "Climbed a tree and jumped out with her arms spread, like she could fly or summat." Becoming Woman Ch. 01 "How odd. But a forest cat, you say? Perhaps I'll join your return, then," he said, and picked himself up off the grass, brushing his pants as he stood. Jove only grunted, his arm obviously causing him grief, and when they returned to the castle, he broke into a jog to find a healer. Deln was content to follow the other guard to the healing house, and met Balron along the way. He'd always considered the tall, blonde Knight handsome, particularly his rough exterior. In the past, he'd often toyed with the thought of offering himself to him; he knew in times of battle, soldiers were permitted to seek comfort amongst themselves. But fear of rejection had held him back, and he'd lost his chance to voice his strange attraction, now that Balron had chosen his wife, and was expecting their first child so soon. "Where was she? Is she alright?" he asked, walking with Deln to the room. "Went for a wander in the forest of Dunhill," the Bard offered, trying to desperately suppress a blush at being addressed by the soldier, and focussed on watching the healers tend to her, instead. "I didn't realise she was injured or I wouldn't have let her disappear." Balron regarded the pale musician warily. He'd more than once felt a fixed gaze upon him, and each time, it was the King's Minstrel that had been watching him. Not knowing how to approach him without embarrassing him or hurting his feelings, he'd been relieved to feel his eyes on his back less often since Beth had come into his life. "Would one of you sit and watch her for a few hours?" one the healers asked, pulling Deln out of his thoughts. "Aye, I will," he replied immediately, jumping at the chance to be anywhere but in the presence of Balron, and took a step towards the unconscious girl. "Just don't fall asleep on her, like the last one did," warned another healer, rolling her eyes. "Of course not." Balron considered Deln for a moment; as much as he felt uncomfortable, he couldn't deny the bard's warm friendship and genuine concern for those around him, and saw this as a good way to find out more about the mysterious woman. "I'll ask Beth to take over in the morning," he said, and nodding to the blonde, he left the room, and made his way to his wife. ---------- Deln watched the waif-like girl toss and turn. She was frowning in her sleep, and he instinctively reached over, covering one of her warm hands in his, and began humming a soothing lullaby. Her expression relaxed, and he smiled as she curled closer to the edge of the bed, closer to him. Closing his eyes, he continued to hum softly, while remembering his first encounter with her, her wildness, the way she'd stared at him from the trees. She was completely fearless; paying no mind to the serious wounds that had bested her and made her bedridden, again. "Master Bard? May we enter?" The twins, never needing to stand on ceremony because of their status, didn't wait for him to nod before entering the room, standing just inside the doorway. "They say she tried to escape," Flein said as they inched closer. Deln shook his head, smiling warmly at them. "Exploring, I think. Curious, and perhaps hungry," he added, remembering her lips on his, the way she'd licked the remnants of the toffee he'd made earlier off his fingers. "In her condition?" Fohnrir asked, and pulled her brother close to the foot of the bed. "Papa said she shouldn't even be able to stand with injuries like these." So they'd come to get their answers from him, then. Taking his hand off his charge, Deln shrugged and sat back. In reaction, the girl frowned in her sleep again, and closed the fist that had accommodated him. "Has your father spoken to you about running off like you did?" he asked, uninterested in answering their questions. The twins nodded, Fohnrir biting her lip. "Him and Balron, both. We're to wait for her to wake up and apologise," Flein offered, flinching when the minstrel nodded. "You won't have much luck. I don't think she can speak or understand us, for the moment," he replied. "In the meantime, though, perhaps practising your harps in your chambers until supper will keep you out of the borderlands. I'll call for you when she's well enough for visitors." Flein and Fohnrir both nodded eagerly and made their hasty retreats. Turning his attention back to the unconscious girl, Deln curled a dark brown lock behind her ear. She was beautiful, really, under that fierce exterior, hidden beneath that intensely wild guise. Smiling to himself, he leaned back on the chair and crossed his arms, letting his head fall forward. "That's how she got away the first time." Deln opened his eyes, surprised to see the room thrown into dim sunrise hues of light grey, yellow and blue. In the doorway stood King Imlan, as usual, one eyebrow raised with imperial air. "My Lord," Deln started, standing to bow, but the tall man waved him back down to his seat. "Fret not. I was the one to fall asleep on her the first time," he said, walking to the edge of the bed. "Has she woken?" Deln nodded, eyeing a tray of neglected soup and bread, his supper. "Only to stare at me a moment. Her eyes are the strangest colour," he added, watching Imlan draw closer, examining the wounds on her arm. "Should we wake her for breakfast?" "No," the King answered, standing straight again. "I do not think it would be wise to interrupt the healing process. Beth has offered to watch her while you get some rest of your own, though." "I have rested, my Lord. And I do not mind keeping watch," Deln replied, surprised at his genuine tone. Beside them, the girl groaned and rolled onto her back, her frown deepening. "Are you sure, Deln?" "Get off my wings." King and Minstrel stared at the sleeping girl lying on her back, and then looked at each other. "What did she say?" "Not words, my Lord. A chirp, perhaps?" "Girls don't chirp, Deln," Imlan retorted, hotly. "I wouldn't know, Sire." "Well, perhaps if you rested, ate a full meal and stood in the sun for a while, you'd look less like a ghost, and more attractive to the ladies in waiting, hm?" Deln didn't bat an eyelid at the King's words, but noted both eyebrows now sat at his royal hairline. His Majesty was well known for resorting to cheap shots when losing a verbal sparring match, but he and Emble alone seemed impervious to his baiting, and he simply sat, smiling pleasantly at the King, instead. "I cannot dissuade you from your vigil?" he asked, his eyebrows returning to their usual home when he realised he wasn't going to get a reaction from the bard. "I'm afraid it's an impossibility, Sire," Deln replied, feigning a sad tone, and Imlan smiled as his gaze returned to the girl's troubled sleeping features. "Very well. Be sure to advise Emble when she wakes. I still have yet to formally thank this woman for saving my children's lives, and they are yet to apologise for endangering hers." "Of course, Sire." Deln bowed his head respectfully towards his King, and watched his back as he left the room. ---------- Gentle pressure on his lips woke Morwendor, and when he opened his eyes, it was to find another face very close, too close, to his. Morwendor spent a full second lost in bright blue eyes, and then repulsion took him, and he flung himself backwards, horrified. Pressed against the wooden bed head, he stared at the man who'd dared touch him and bared his teeth, the hairs on the back of his neck bristling. It was another second for him to realise why the man was familiar, and then heat rushed up his neck to his cheeks, while the golden-haired man straightened his tunic. "In my defense, you started it," the man murmured, sitting back. "Though, I truly didn't realise my kissing skills were so poor," he observed, running fingers through his sleep tussled mane. The girl said nothing, but continued to stare at him wide-eyed from where she braced herself against the bed. Moving slowly so as not to scare her more, Deln pushed his chair back and sat with his hands on his knees so that she could see he was not a threat. He realised his mistake, though, when her sharp copper gaze flitted from him to the door and back again. "Please don't run, Miss," he said, leaning forward, and she backed up again, pressing her bandaged back against the bed head. "Miss?" Morwendor's thoughts changed from escape to confusion. Again, the witch's voice echoed in his mind. "Aye, Miss. You don't have to run away. You're safe here," Deln replied, giving the girl a friendly smile. "Miss," Morwendor repeated, frowning to himself. "Miss, miss, miss, miss." Frowning deeply at the girl, Deln wondered if she had received an injury to her head, and sat forward, offering her a hand. "Are you alright? Do you want me to fetch a healer?" Morwendor warbled, and dismissing the hand offered to him, swung his legs over the edge of the bed and got up. "Wait!" Surprisingly strong hands pushed him back the moment he touched her shoulder, and Deln yelped, falling back into his chair. Standing at the same height as he was sitting down, the girl glared him down. Advancing on him quickly, she snapped her jaws loudly at him, and then stepped back, searching for something. Unable to find a reflective surface, Morwendor opted for stripping, and using his own strength, ripped at the fabric enfolded about him until it was nothing but shreds on the floor. He stared at his body, ignoring the man's gasp. He was pale and small, completely featherless like a newborn. Where a flat chest should have been, two proud, firm breasts thrust from his body, and where something significant should have hung from between his legs, his hands found only soft, downy hair. It occurred to him, then, that this body was not male at all, but wholly female. Shocked to his core, Deln willed his feet to move, and he sprinted from the room, calling for a healer as loudly as possible. "Master Bard, what is amiss?" A portly old woman popped her head out of another patient's room, and relief swept over Deln. Ignoring her protests, he pulled the woman by the hand back to the room. "What has been seen cannot be unseen," he muttered guiltily, but pressed a hand over his eyes anyway. "She's naked." "And out of bed," the healer added, standing with him just inside the doorway. "Well at least she's left the bandages on, this time. Hello, lovey, what're you doing out of bed at this hour? And what have you done to your nightie?" Morwendor's eyes moved from his body to the two standing in front of him. The man that had had the audacity to kiss him earlier was blushing furiously, one hand clamped over his eyes, while the woman just stood there smiling at him. "Er, I'll just leave the two of you, that is, I'll fetch some food. I'll be back shortly, but not too shortly," Deln stuttered, and letting go of the healer's hand, he excused himself from the room. "Thank-you, Mary!" the healer called after him, and grinned when she heard him echoing her words from the hallway. "Now then, what're we going to do with you, young lady?" Mary asked, shaking her head. Morwendor stared at the plump, elderly woman, and decided quickly, as she hustled him back onto the bed, that she was no threat, even if she was annoying and pushy. "When you were brought in the second time, we gave you enough porthos root to fell an elephant, and yet, here you are, upright and giving me sass! Right to my face! I'm too old to be given sass, young lady," the healer quipped, and pulled the sheets up to his chin. "Now, mind you pay attention to me when I say this. You can't go showing your delicates to gentlemen, not even pretty ones you might fancy. Stay here," she said, as she tucked in the sheets around him, "and I'll get you a clean gown if you promise not to rip it apart like the last one." "Miss?" "Yes, lovey?" Morwendor stared up at the woman and moved a hand up from under the sheet and pointed at himself, his eyes searching her soft, wrinkled face. "Miss?" "What is it? Are you in pain?" Not picking up more than 'what' and 'you', Morwendor shook his head, immediately regretting the action as it made his temples throb. "Mor-" Mary raised her eyebrows and sat on the edge of the bed. "More what?" "No. No 'more what'. Mor-wen-dor." "Oh, your name? Well, pleased to meet you, Morwendor, I'm Mary," the healer said, and shook the girl's hand spritely. "Still got a fever, but that's no surprise. Morwendor. That's quite the mouthful, you've got there, by the way," she added, getting up. "Did I say to stay there? Well stay there," she repeated, to Morwendor's raised eyebrows. "And I'll go find you another nightgown." Morwendor regarded his shaken hand, the bubbling of incomprehensible words the woman had said, and then watched silently as she walked out of the room. If there was a chance to escape, it was now, but he found himself comfortable, warm, and curious, and decided he could be content to stay put for the moment. The only thing that bothered him was that he'd been moved onto his back again, and apart from the stinging ache running up to his right shoulder, he was sure his wings were going to get squashed, and he rolled over onto his side. Stupid bird, he thought to himself, you've not got wings any more. Lifting the sheet, he peeked down at his delicate form again, and snarled at it. Stupid witch, he added, knows not Morwendor is male. A commotion just outside the door drew his eyes, and just as he pulled the sheet back up to his chin, the golden-haired man returned, a tray piled with food in his hands. He blushed when the shining blue eyes stayed on him, and scooted back in the bed so that the tray could be sat in front of him. "I wasn't sure what you'd want to eat, so I just brought this. I made toffee a day ago, but the cooks couldn't find it, otherwise I would have brought you some. But there's bread, fruit and meat and cheese. Oh, and this is tea, be careful with it, it's hot," Deln said, and then feeling like he was waffling, fell silent. "You hunt?" Deln sat back, surprised at the quiet curiosity, but shook his head. "Uh, no, well, I, I just fetched this from the kitchens." "You hunt for Morwendor," the girl said a little louder, seemingly hesitant to touch the food. Deln realised he was holding his breath while his eyes were stuck on her hand, creeping closer to the tray. Wondering at himself, he shook his head, surprised at how shy and unsure she made him feel. He watched the girl's slender hand glide over the grapes and strawberries, and pick up a slice of ham. Bringing it to her nose, she sniffed the meat warily, and then bit into it. She stared at the man, and he realised when her expression fell from curious to cringing that it was not something she'd had before. "Well, you haven't eaten in a while," he said, watching with curious amusement as she removed the meat from her mouth and put it back on the tray. "You really do need to eat something." "Some-" Morwendor paused. "Something," Deln repeated, frowning. "Anything, really. Is there something in particular you want to eat?" "Eat?" Deln's frown deepened and he began to wonder if her head injury was making it hard for her to understand him. "Yes, eat," he said and gestured to the tray, but she shook her head at him, matching his frown. "I hunt." "Not in your condition, you don't," Mary retorted from the doorway, a new gown in her arms. "Morwendor, this is Deln, Master Minstrel to the King," she said, pointing at the blonde. "Master Bard, you do realise you've dropped grapes all over the corridor?" The plump woman gave Deln a stern look, and he jumped up to his feet. "Oh, I did, yes, sorry, I meant to clean it up, I just wanted to be sure she ate something. Morwendor, did you say?" Morwendor nodded, and satisfied there was nothing on the offered tray that he wanted to eat, lay back on his side, but Mary beckoned him to sit up, and he did so, the sheet falling down to his bare waist. "Right, yes," Deln stuttered, spinning around to face the door instead of the naked girl, "I'll go pick those grapes up." Without daring a backwards glance, he practically ran from the room. "You know, just between us girls, I think he likes you," Mary said, tossing the nightgown over Morwendor's head. Becoming Woman Ch. 02 Author's Note: There are no quick fixes here. Becoming Woman is slowly graduating, so don't complain at the lack of action in this chapter. Instead, bite your tongue and continue on to the next one. This chapter contains pregnancy and birth, you've been warned. Also, keep your eyes peeled. I tend to switch between characters quickly in this chapter. Like most people, I appreciate constructive feedback, but please leave your nasties to yourself. :-) ------- "No! Miss! Get your head out-" Deln didn't bother to knock at the door, and instead walked straight in, to find Morwendor in her satin gown, her head submerged in a bathtub. Attending to his own duties in the morning, Deln had come to relieve the elderly nurse at midday. After spending all his free afternoons in the last week with the girl, it'd become clear to him that she'd been living under a rock or with a pack of wolves her whole life. She really was as wild as he'd thought when they'd first met, hardly able to stay stationary, knowing barely any English, and having no social sense, whatsoever. Every day, when the porthos root meant to keep her quiet and docile left her system- and it did so at an unusually and irritatingly fast pace- she was up and about, demanding 'hunt' and trying to find the route out of the healing houses. Mary surmised rather loudly that it seemed to be only the King's Bard's presence that kept her in her room, which only made Deln blush more, though he enjoyed staring into her copper eyes for hours on end. She'd let him at first, lying quietly in bed, staring just as intently back at him. It had been in this way that he'd learned of her basic nature. Every time his attention was drawn away, she'd scramble about in bed, scratching up sheets and pushing pillows over the side. She would then watch him pick up after her. After the third day of this behaviour, though, Morwendor became disinclined to sit still when the sun went down, and it took all his charming and cunning ways to keep her attention until dinner and medicine came again. "My Lord, will you please ask her not to drink her bath water?" Mary asked, wringing her hands, a good few yards safe from the splashing coming from the barrel. Morwendor could hear the old woman complaining above the water, and cursed that she was making enough noise to make his prey elude him. He wondered when they would let him out to hunt; the small pond-like barrel he'd been given was insufficient. So far, both Mary and Deln had brought him food, and not allowed him to reciprocate. It annoyed him to no end, but they kept pointing at the bed and ordering him under the sheets when he offered to hunt for them. He thought he'd done well so far; it had taken little time to figure out how to use the limbs gifted to him, and though most of their words still confused him, the tall blonde man was willing to repeat himself with a seemingly limitless amount of patience. When Deln had started spending his afternoons in the same room, Morwendor assumed he was guarding him; but the days wore on, and he'd begun to indulge in silly games to both amuse himself and test the man's interest in staying by his side. If he wasn't careful, Morwendor knew he'd be found out, and he couldn't allow that to happen. He had to leave as soon as an opportunity presented itself, regardless how much he liked Deln's company. Chuckling to himself, Deln walked to the girl and tapped her on the shoulder, careful to avoid the long white bandage strapped over her back. Morwendor flicked her head out of the water, soaking him magnificently in the process, but he'd learned the hard way not to break her gaze, and stared back into her wondering bright orange eyes. "Thirsty?" "Firsty?" Morwendor repeated in the same tone, looking uncertainly at him. Deln had also learned when the girl was behaving like a trained parrot, and shaking his head, squatted next to her. Cupping one hand in the water, he brought it to his lips and pretended to drink, all the while her copper eyes on him. "Thirsty," he said slowly, pointing at his throat and stomach. Clicking her tongue, Morwendor shook her head at him, giving him a look that told him he ought to know better. "No Firsty. Fish!" she exclaimed, and made a snapping movement with her jaws. Deln startled at the sharp clacking of her teeth, but couldn't help but continue smiling at her. Her simplicity astounded him, but her theory was still sound. "Fish later," he replied, offering her a hand up, "now is bath-time." Morwendor took the Minstrel's hand and stood, dripping in her dress. "Say again." "Bath-time," he indulged. "Ba-" Morwendor reached up and touched his mouth, her wet hand on his lips, and blushing again, Deln obliged, making the 'th' sound she was struggling with. "Ba-th-time." "Very good, and now try 'thirsty'." Morwendor's expression darkened instantly, and she seethed through her teeth, but as she exhaled, her features relaxed again, and she repeated 'bath-time' and 'thirsty' for the man. He'd gotten somewhat used to the flashing anger, knew it was instinctual to her, but it was something she was quickly trying to control in front of the nurses. "Sir, I don't know how you've the patience for it," Mary grumbled, walking toward him with a towel. "She's more of a handful than both the twins when they were younglings." Deln took the offered towel and rubbed it over his face while Morwendor watched, enthralled. "They haven't changed in adulthood, but it's really no trouble at all. I should take my leave, though, Mary. Morwendor," he said, handing the towel back to Mary, "clothes come off," he instructed, lifting an imaginary dress off himself, "and then get in the tub and use this, yes?" he asked, pointing to the bar of yellow soap. "Yes," Morwendor repeated, wrinkles of concentration between her brows, and she took hold of the hem of her skirt. "Wait! Not yet, Miss! Wait for Master Deln to leave first!" the healer yelled in a panic, dropping the towel and grabbing the raised hem and pulling it back down. "And that is my cue," the bard said, chuckling softly, and waved as he walked to the door. "Morwendor, be good and I will bring fish." Morwendor nodded again and waved back cheerfully with one small, skirt filled fist. Deln wandered to his study, humming a simple tune as he walked. He had a feeling Morwendor's bath was going to take a while, and decided to check on his duties again before heading to the kitchen. "Melnin?" A young man looked up from his study desk, and gave him a welcoming smile. "Hello, Sir, how are you? You're wet!" "Quite the observant one, Melnin," he responded dryly. "Any orders from the court?" His apprentice nodded, still shocked, and scrabbled around his desk for a piece of parchment. As soon as he found it, he held it out to his Master. "A sonnet for Constance, requested by Tam, one of the castle guards." Deln skimmed the poem, impressed with his apprentice's work. "There are more than a dozen better words for bloom, choose one," he replied after reading it for the second time. "Or don't. Either way, I'm sure her heart will beat a faster rhythm upon reading it." "Sir?" "Yes, Melnin?" Melnin was staring at him as he handed the parchment back, and Deln realised why, heat rising in his cheeks. He'd been on the receiving end of a few of Morwendor's warning nips since he'd been spending his time with her. While most of them were on his forearms, hidden under his tunic, he remembered receiving one just above his collar after getting caught curling a lock of her hair behind her ear when he thought she was sleeping. "I didn't realise you'd taken a lover, Sir," the young man quipped with a raised eyebrow, and Deln's blush darkened a little further. "But it does explain your afternoon absences. Have you been dallying in the gardens?" "That's none of your business until you come of age, young man," he retorted quickly, admonishing himself for nurturing his apprentice's wit. "Now, I want you to work on that harp duet. The Prince and Princess are due to perform for the court at Yule, and I want the King to be impressed with their performance." "Sir, they've barely practised what I've written so far," the young bard pouted, taking his seat again. "Then you must ensure the melody sounds impressive, to cover the musicians' laziness." "Aye, Sir." Melnin couldn't suppress his smile as his Master turned on his heel and made his speedy exit. ------- Bathing was a lengthy affair, Mary learned, and a messy one, as the girl seemed to thoroughly enjoy getting soap and water everywhere but herself. By the time she was clean, dry and in a new house dress, it was almost sunset. Deln had returned to her room, as promised, with a plate of whole fish, cooked medium-rare. It was a compromise they'd agreed upon earlier, as he refused to give her the fish raw, and she refused to eat crispy meat. But of course, it resulted in another warning bite. He knew it was odd, not to mention against the law for a woman to lay a hand on a man, but the funny thing he found about her bites, was that they weren't sharp and painful, she just held onto him with her pointed teeth until she felt he'd learned his lesson, and then she'd let go again. So it didn't bother him as it might if he were someone else. And aside from the sight of the marks, it was that thought alone that stuck with him. "You'll have visitors soon," he remarked quietly, and she nodded, muttering a stilted 'thank-you' for the meal, and he sat in the wooden chair by the bed to watch her eat. The only time Morwendor ever blushed and became shy was when Deln brought her food, and he wondered at it, the light pink gracing her pale cheeks as she crunched happily through the sharp bones. Watching her struggle with the fork and knife made him smile. She really was quite wild, using only her hands and teeth to cut through the flesh the first time he'd given her meat. At first she'd bitten and hissed when he insisted she use cutlery, but a week of practice, more patience, and she could successfully use the tools, even if it did still take twice as long. "Remember to call them Majesty or Highness. Their names are important to remember, but their titles are more important." "Yes. Majesty, Highness," Morwendor repeated. "Good, but don't speak with your mouth full of food." Morwendor swallowed. "Yes." "And bow when you meet them," he added quickly, realising just how much etiquette Morwendor wouldn't understand. "Why?" "Because they are the rulers of this land," he replied, but the girl frowned. "Because they deserve our respect and allegiance." Morwendor huffed but said nothing, instead shoved another forkful of fish into his mouth. He hated it when the man used such long words; it made him wonder if he was ever going to learn everything there was to know about being one of them. Suddenly stunned at the realisation that he wanted to stay and be part of this home to man, Morwendor stopped moving fork to mouth midway, causing Deln to shuffle uncomfortably. The Bard was quick to put a hand on the girl's shoulder, pulling Morwendor out of his befuddled thoughts, and he silently returned his attention to food. As soon as he was finished, Deln wiped his hands and face with a damp cloth while he scrunched his nose in retaliation. A knock came to the door and Deln jumped up, Morwendor watching him move to the door intently. He smelled nervous, jittery even. Deciding it was best to stand as well, Morwendor left his empty plate on the bed and waited beside it, clasping his hands in front of himself. "Come in, Sire, Prince Flein, Princess Fohnrir. It is my pleasure to introduce to you, Morwendor." Eyes wide, Morwendor stared at the crowned head of King Imlan. He recognised him, but didn't know when or where from, and felt the same uncertain familiarity with the young man and woman in front of him. They stood just inside the room, smiling at him, and seeing Deln bow gracefully before them, he did the same thing, only to be rushed upon by the girl. "Oh, Morwendor! How can we ever repay you? You saved our lives!" she tittered, and he stiffened to be held so tightly by her. "Ah," he gasped, trying desperately to quell the instinct to fight back, "M-majesty, ah, Highness, DELN!" Reaching out for the blonde, Deln was at his side in a flash, and Fohnrir pulled back just as quickly, shocked by the sudden, frightened screech. Morwendor immediately curled himself behind the tall blonde, peeking between his arm and side at the shocked faces staring back at him. "I'm sorry, your Highness, Morwendor isn't used to physical contact. She's quite timid still," he explained, and Fohnrir understood at once, taking another step back, she painted a charming smile back on her face. "Morwendor," the King started, stepping slowly forward with his son, "I thank-you from the bottom of my heart for returning my children safely to me. You have done me the greatest service-" "Not for Majesty," Morwendor interrupted, stepping around Deln nervously. He stared at the slack-jawed faces for a moment, and wracked his brain to try to elaborate. "For witch, not Majesty," he said, frowning to himself. "Witch ask for Morwendor service. Witch ask for Morwendor 'saved our lives'." All four continued to stare at him, and he began to feel uncomfortable under their scrutinising gazes. "Morwendor, what do you mean, 'witch'?" Deln asked quietly, stepping away to stand back with the King. "Witch is live in stone forest," he said, sucking in his bottom lip, bothered that Deln was frowning and backing away from him. "Morwendor owe witch due for magics." Deln shook his head; why was this the first time Morwendor was speaking of it? "Why didn't you say something before now?" he asked, unable to hide the hurt tone from his voice. Morwendor chewed on his cheek. Seeing the Prince and Princess' faces had only just undone his blocked memories, but now that he could remember, as soon as he learned their words, he could explain better. "Not know word. I no female miss," he said in a low voice, already knowing it wasn't enough. "Flein, Fohnrir, go and see to your studies," Imlan said quietly. "But Papa-" Fohnrir started, but didn't get any further. "NOW!" he barked, making everyone jump. Flein grabbed his sister's hand and pulled her from the room. Imlan backed up to the door, and shut it behind them, and then advanced on the girl. "Morwendor, tell me everything." "No, Majesty," came the quiet reply. "Morwendor, you cannot say 'no' to the King," Deln said from the background, his tone and expression unreadable. "Morwendor cannot say 'no' to witch," Morwendor replied, bowing his head, knowing he was quickly destroying the friendship building between them. "Or magic will, will-" he made a waving gesture, to which the King nodded his understanding. Imlan sighed, and leaned against the bedpost. He had a strange feeling he knew the meddling woman the girl was talking about, but he wanted to know what dues she could owe his mother. "Can you tell me what she looked like?" he asked instead, only to be greeted with a confused look from the girl. "Did she have hair the colour of mine, or Deln's?" he asked, pointing to their heads. "Mary," Morwendor exclaimed, nodding, her eyes widening with comprehension. "Mary hair." "Grey, and curly," Deln offered, when his King gave him the same confused look. "But more!" the girl added, motioning to her hips. "More hair!" "Aye, gods. Why didn't she tell me? I think I know the witch you speak of, Morwendor. What did you owe her?" Morwendor shook his head. "I cannot or magic will-" "Break," Deln offered softly, and she nodded. "And so she asked you to save my children?" he asked, gesturing to the door Flein and Fohnrir had just swept out of. "Yes." "And kill the men that attacked them?" "Yes." "Morwendor, I want you to look me in the eyes when you answer me this," he said, stepping forward, as close as he dared to her. "Did she tell you when you'd die?" Morwendor stared at the King. How he'd known the witch's exact words amazed him. "Yes," he whispered. "Were you going to die during the fight?" "Yes." Deln sucked in his breath. "Truly? Why send a defenceless girl into battle against thirty raiders? I mean no offence, Sire, but she was sent to certain death! If Balron hadn't found her, she'd be long dead!" "Which means Gloria meant for her to be dead. If she doesn't know Morwendor yet lives, then there may still be a price to pay." "Sire?" Deln was confused; Gloria was the dead Queen's mother, Imlan's mother. "Yes, Deln. After her premonition of her daughter's death, Gloria retreated into hiding, refusing to have anything to do with her family. That she's forced this girl to do her bidding for some 'magic' that probably doesn't even exist is despicable. My guess is that she foresaw the attack; she used this girl, wanting her dead, and she was willing to put my children at risk to do so." Morwendor watched silently as the two men debated. He understood less than half the words coming quickly out of their mouths, and could only imagine that they were discussing his punishment, or worse, the witch's. That Deln now hated him for his silence upset him more, but he could do nothing but stand helplessly there while the King and Deln exchanged words in harsh tones. Before he could stop them, hot tears brimmed at his eyes, and started their speedy descent down his cheeks, making wet trails that dripped from his chin to his chest. "Morwendor?!" Deln was on him in a second, brushing the tears from his face, and he hiccuped, staring up at him through the tears. "Deln, I-" But the Bard didn't let him continue, instead crushed his head to his chest, tangling his fingers in his hair. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Morwendor. It's not your fault. The witch tricked you, do you understand? She used you, there is no magic, and you owe her no due," he said, but Morwendor shook his head against him, pulling back. "No. I owe witch due, magics," but Morwendor gave up, unable to find words, and instead threw his arms around the man, not understanding why, but needing to hold him close. "I shall confer with Emble," Imlan said, watching the two very closely. "The hunt for Gloria will begin shortly. I will not have my family's saviour living in fear. Deln," he said, and the blonde turned the embrace he was in around to face his King, "keep her close at all times, away from the mountain border. If by stone forest she means the Kraken Caves, Gloria could by hiding anywhere around there, and she could have allies. No-one but whom you trust is to come near her. I will have answers soon." Deln nodded, and watched the King leave Morwendor's room. As soon as they were alone, he swept the girl off her feet, and lowered her onto her bed. Wide copper eyes stared at him through tears, and after wrapping the blanket around her huddled form, he took up the wooden chair next to her. "Morwendor, can you tell me what you meant when you said you aren't a female miss?" he asked softly, probing those unblinking orange orbs. "No. You will-" "Feel nothing bad against you," he reassured softly, then offered her a small smile. "Besides, I've seen you without clothes, and you are definitely a female miss." Morwendor searched the man's face, looking for more than reassurance, but lost himself in the pale blue eyes staring at him. "Now I am female miss, before witch I am some-th-ing, no man." Wrinkles of confusion crossed between Deln's eyebrows. "What do you mean 'no man'? Morwendor-" but he stopped, and thought back on the last week. Becoming Woman Ch. 02 The insatiable appetite for fish, the chirping noises she made while she slept, the fast flashes of instinctive rage, nesting her blankets in a ring around herself, not to mention the strange way she stared unblinking, with large pupils at everything around her. How he'd been so blind to her nature amazed him, and he sat back, staring at her as though seeing her for the first time. "Deln?" "Morwendor, tell me what you were, before you met the witch." "No." "I won't tell another living soul, Morwendor. If you want me to stay by your side, you must confide in me." Morwendor felt fresh tears begin to brim, but Deln resisted the urge to pull the girl into his arms again, and instead folded his arms across his chest. "Deln-" Pressing fingertips against the bridge of his nose, Deln squeezed his eyes shut, his long running patience finally wearing thin. "Please, Morwendor, please just tell me the truth! TELL ME WHAT YOU ARE!" "Witch call eagle," Morwendor whispered as quietly as possible, preparing for the magic to break, "am male eagle." Not knowing what to expect, Morwendor stared at his hands, waiting for the transformation to crumble. When nothing happened, he looked up at Deln, but the man's eyes were still closed. "Deln?" The man brought a finger to his lips, and Morwendor remained silent. Finally, Deln opened his eyes, but he couldn't read the emotion in them. Still silent, Deln stood and walked to the solitary window, gazing out over the night-scape. "Morwendor," he started, but couldn't continue. He knew she was waiting for him to say something, but no words would come to mind. "Yes?" "Thank-you for being honest," he said quietly. He stood at the window for what felt like forever, staring at the darkness of night, contemplating her words. That her explanation made sense bothered him. It was the first time she had actually bothered him, or rather, he'd bothered him. A male, predatory personality was living inside a young woman's body, regardless of whether her story was true or not. Even if it wasn't true, even if it was that she'd been raised by wild animals, that she'd been raised as a male meant she would always be different. He wondered at length if that was what attracted him to her, her strength and fearlessness. She was abrasive, proud and determined, when all he'd ever experienced of women was quiet and submissive behaviour. Perhaps Morwendor was the embodiment of what he'd been wanting all along. Perhaps he was just as confused inside himself as she was. When the first hues of light blue crossed the horizon, he turned, expecting to see the sleeping silhouette of the one that had come to mean so much to him, and instead looked into shining copper eyes. "You should be asleep," he murmured, walking back to the bed. Resigning himself to acceptance of his vexing infatuation, he took his usual place on the bedside chair. Giving the wondering girl a small smile, and brushing a tangled lock of hair away from her cheek, he watched tiredly as her gaze shifted to the rising sun, until weariness took him as well, and he closed his eyes. ------- "Do you want me to do it?" Morwendor hissed at Deln, and he suppressed the urge to roll his eyes at her in turn. "I do it." "But it might not be healed yet." Giving the blonde an exasperated frown that he was sure she'd learned from Mary, Morwendor pressed one hand against his chest and put distance between them. "I do it," she repeated, and took hold of the bandage on her shoulder. "Alright, let me know when you're done," Deln replied, and turned around to give her privacy. Another hiss and screech later, and Morwendor had struggled enough to strip the bandage off his back. Abandoning the wrapping to the bed, he pulled the strap of the nightgown back up over his shoulder, and touched the man's arm. "May I see it?" Deln asked, and the girl nodded, turning around. Gently pulling her tangled brown locks aside, he saw a thin, long scab that ran from her shoulder to the back of her nightgown, and he knew underneath, it ran further, close to her spine. "It looks much better," Mary noted from the doorway. "We'll be able to take the stitches out in a few days." She'd watched with amused interest as the quiet bard and wild woman had grown closer over the few weeks since she'd been brought to the healing house. Of all the men to take an interest in the kingdom's newest addition, it was a surprise to see the King's Minstrel standing by her side. She'd always thought he was, well, a 'man's' man. "Will she be able to leave the healing house soon?" Deln asked, sitting back in his usual chair beside the bed. "Leave?" Morwendor was horrified. What had he missed? He'd just spent the last two weeks under the care of this man and woman, and now that he was healed he was being cast out? Or was it because Deln truly was repulsed by what he was? He hadn't said anything more about his confession since that night, less than a week ago, but now he wondered if he was about to learn the man's true feelings. Mary shrugged and raised an eyebrow at him. "Today, if a room's been organised for her, but she'll have to come back every day for another few weeks so I can check on her. And," she paused and winked at Morwendor. "I'm not sure she wants to leave, just yet." Deln turned to see Morwendor's expression darkened by fear. "What is amiss? Don't you want to leave?" Morwendor didn't want to shake his head; he didn't want Deln thinking he'd become so dependent on him, especially if he didn't want him, but if Deln didn't want him, then why hunt for and watch over him? "Morwendor?" Mary and Deln were both staring at him, and he realised he needed to say something. "If I need go, I go." "Lovey, you don't have to go anywhere if you don't want to," Mary smiled at her reassuringly. Deln nodded along with her. "The King has granted you rooms next to mine," he said, standing and holding a hand out. "I can take you there now, if you'd like to see them?" Morwendor was biting her lip, and Deln hesitated when the girl breathed in sharply, a usual sure sign that she was about to bite. But Morwendor didn't, instead, reached out and took his hand. "You've still got that fever, so be sure to come and see me every morning," Mary instructed, unable to hide her toothy, satisfied grin at the sight of the two of them holding hands. "Yes. Thank-you, Mary," Morwendor muttered shyly, and let Deln lead her out of the only space she'd seen for a fortnight. Walking confidently through the halls, the tall blonde didn't seem to notice the strange looks they were receiving, even as Morwendor clung tightly to his arm with both hands. "Deln?" "Almost there," he murmured back, and nodded to another man as they crossed paths. Climbing a stone spiral staircase, Deln led them higher and deeper in the castle, and Morwendor realised if he was left alone, he wouldn't know how to get out again. "Here we are," the man announced cheerfully, and stood them in front of a thick wooden door. "Where?" "Your rooms," Deln replied, smiling down at her. "And that door, right there, that leads to my rooms," he added, and Morwendor looked past him to another door looking identical. "The door are same, how I know my door?" he asked, thoroughly confused. "Well, the King's asked you stay close to me, so I suppose I'll make sure you get to your rooms every day, for now," Deln added, blushing, "but you'll become accustomed to the paths through the castle soon enough." "I do not understand. Deln?" Morwendor's head was spinning; he'd tried so hard to understand the man's words, but only some of them made sense. Deln sighed, his shoulders slumping, and he glanced sidelong at the girl for such a long moment, Morwendor should have, but couldn't understand his silent expression. "Morwendor," he murmured, and pulled her around until her back was at her door. "I want something, and I don't want you to bite me in return. Can you try that for me?" He was close, so close Morwendor's eyes crossed, trying to stay focused on his intense stare and pale features. "Yes." Deln leaned forward and pressed his lips gently against Morwendor's, relishing the warmth they held. He couldn't break the molten copper gaze burning right into his soul, and thought his heart was sure to burst when he felt her slender arms reach around and pull him closer still. "Deln?" Taken by surprise, Deln found himself panting, leaning heavily against Morwendor's slight frame, his face buried in her mess of tangled locks, unsure if his legs would work if he had to stand on his own. "Hm?" "Must I have rooms? Can I have your rooms?" "Uh-" For the first time in his life, Deln was speechless. "Deln?" "Yes?" "I don't want rooms." "I don't understand," he replied, then winced, feeling teeth dig into his shoulder. "Ou-ouch!" Morwendor released his shoulder from her grip and shrugged. "I try." "You had to bite?" "Not for kiss." Deln nodded. "Of course not. Will you at least see your rooms?" he asked, gesturing behind her. "Hm. Yes." "Are you saying yes to make me happy?" he asked, and laughed when Morwendor nodded emphatically at him. "Well, then smile and make nice sounds when I open the door," he said, still chuckling. Upon swinging the thick wooden door open, Morwendor realised he did like the rooms. The first thing he noticed was a tall window dominating the stonework of the opposite wall, and he ran to it, passing the blonde, and leaned, flat-palmed against the glass to look out to the gardens below. "Here, Morwendor," Deln called from a small archway, and the girl reluctantly followed, her eyes wide, taking in her surroundings. "This is where you bathe," he said, gesturing to the large wooden tub and shelving. Cream linens were stacked on the shelves, along with the yellow soap Morwendor recognised, and bottles of other flowery smelling liquids he'd never seen before. A small table and mirror sat against one wall, a wooden stool in front of it. He ran his fingers over bristled handles and pots with powders in them. It was all so much, he wasn't sure what any of it was meant for. Cringing on the inside, he remembered that Deln had asked him to smile and make nice sounds, so he painted a happy face and hummed, but couldn't help being drawn back to the other room, to the window. Deln followed with an air of shy uncertainty, and Morwendor wondered why, until he saw the bedding he'd been provided with. It was very much like the bed he'd been given in the healing house, but so different. Instead of cream and light wood, it was clothed in shades of green, with dark wood beams. It still had the unusual softness the other bed had, but the shape was much more agreeable. Perfectly round, and set on stone bricks, higher than the rest of the furniture, long, thin, brown pillows were thrown onto it, above a light green blanket. "You make nest for Mor- for me?" he asked, circling the bed, staring at it in wonder. Deln nodded; since he was the only one who knew Morwendor's secret, he'd done his best to provide her with comfort, short of bringing a pile of twigs and leaves into the room. Very suddenly, Deln was tackled to the ground, and could only fall back onto the rug covered floor. Wincing, again, he closed his eyes and wanted nothing more than to rub the back of his head, but it was impossible while the girl sitting heavily on top of him held his wrists down beside him. "Deln, do you want me for mate?" she barked angrily. "WHAT?!" Morwendor hissed above him and he waited for the inevitable bite to come, but it didn't, and when he opened his eyes, it was to stare into her fierce copper glare. "You make nest, you hunt, you protect, you, you are male," she growled the last word low, still holding him down. "Well yes, but-" "Male want spawn." Her tone was dangerously quiet, and Deln was sure his eyes couldn't widen any further than they had already; Morwendor was clearly unhappy with him, but the 'why' still eluded him. "Well yes, but-" "You want spawn with me?" Almost choking from shock, Deln pulled free of the hands pinning him down, and sat back, shaking his head adamantly. "No! I was just trying to be nice!" he explained quickly, leaning against the wall and rubbing his head. "I want you to be comfortable here; I want you to be happy here." Morwendor stared at the man, trying to see if he was being truthful, and realising he was being honest, sat back as well. "Why kiss?" Deln blushed, at once, both infuriated at Morwendor's lack of shame and grateful for her straightforwardness. "Because I like you." "Yes. This I smell. I like you. Why not want mate? All male want spawn." "Because it takes longer for two people who like each other to do that," he said, absolutely sure he didn't want to be teaching her about the birds and the bees, and then laughed aloud at the thought. "I do not know people way," Morwendor muttered, seeming to speak more to herself. The overwhelming anger directed at Deln was cooling down to irritated curiosity, and he wondered at such a difference in their way of life. "Nest is make. Now is time for spawn," she continued, and Deln felt the heat in his cheeks rush up to his hairline, and down his neck. "Try to understand, every person has a bed, but that doesn't mean that they all make babies at the first chance. There's courting, and kissing, and spending time together, and other things," he explained, careful not to mention marriage, "before mating. And don't call it mating or spawning. We call that 'making love'." Morwendor stared at Deln, glad he'd had time to pick up on most of his words, but exasperated at the ones he still didn't understand. "What is courting?" "Of course, you wouldn't know," Deln said, scratching his still sore head. "Why don't we go for a walk in the castle gardens?" he asked, and got to his feet. "Walk?" "Yes, surely you'd like to breathe fresh air? Feel the grass under your feet?" "Out? Outside?" Morwendor asked, and her eyebrows shot to her hairline. "Me can outside?" "Only if you say it properly," Deln frowned, taking his hand back. "May I go outside, please?" "May I go outside, pl-ease." Deln smiled into the glowering girl's stormy expression. "Yes you may," he replied sweetly. "We'll wander down to the forest, and I might take you to the clearing where we first met. Would you like that?" "Yes. Deln?" "Mhm?" "You are strange," she said finally, unable to find the right words. "You're not the first girl to say that to me, but you are the first I can say it back to without so much as a breath of hesitation," Deln replied, grinning. "Hm. Girl. I forget this," she murmured to herself, letting him lead her out of her chambers. "Must not forget." "Especially not while you're holding a hand as masculine as mine," Deln scolded playfully. "Now," he said, thinking to himself as he led them back through the corridors he'd just introduced to her, "we should probably find a guard to escort us." As luck had it, Balron was spending time with his pregnant wife in the healing houses, and after much rib-jabbing on Beth's behalf, he agreed to take her, and escort the odd pair to the river banks to enjoy the warmth of the sun. As soon as they reached the castle gates, Morwendor was overwhelmed by the bright sun, the gentle breeze and as Deln had pointed out earlier, the grass under her feet. She ran forward, and almost skittled over, not ready for the skirt she was wearing to tighten her stride. Beth elbowed Balron in the ribs when he burst out laughing, and Deln shook his head, smiling at the sight. Casting a fierce glare at the men, Morwendor quickly turned her attention to the ground around her. Picking up a large stick, she snapped it in half and tossed one half away. Pulling her skirt taut at the sides, she stabbed the sharp end inwards, and with the unmistakable sound of fabric tearing, created a split in her skirt. "Come!" she ordered, and stormed away in the direction of the dense wood. "She's tenacious," Balron muttered, shaking his head at the petite girl's back. "Don't let her hear you say that!" Deln bit back. "As if she'd understand," the knight scoffed. Balron laughed again, as the three of them followed the skipping wild woman's zig-zagging path. Deln wondered why, for the first time, his eyes weren't interested in the slightest at the sight of Balron in his usual armoured glory. Instead, his gaze was following Morwendor's skipping form, her torn skirt flapping around her calves as she moved gracefully over the same ground he kept tripping over. Flitting between the trees ahead of the others, Morwendor breathed in the smell of forest and earth as deeply as she could, letting her fingertips brush every rough tree trunk, relishing every touch her hands and feet made. Remembering Deln's instructions, she moved as slowly as her instincts let her, staying within sight of the tall Knight. By the time they caught up with her, she'd planted herself on a stretch of grass beside the river. Watching Balron help his wife to sit down, she'd wondered if being out in the open was too much of a burden for the heavily pregnant woman. "Urgh, I should have brought a basket," Beth grumbled, stretching out beside her. "I'm hungry." Sensing Deln taking his place next to her made Morwendor feel at ease, but she couldn't understand why Balron was standing still slightly behind his wife. Cocking her head to the side, Morwendor looked up at him expectantly. "You hunt?" "Oh? No, we'll wait until we get back, I haven't brought my bow," he replied, to which Morwendor frowned. "Deln?" "Yes?" Deln opened one eye from where he'd lain down on her other side and stared up at her. "Can I hunt for Beth?" she asked, biting a lip. Asking her golden-haired angel to be allowed to hunt for another was something Morwendor hadn't expected to do, but Deln didn't seem to realise the significance to her, and wondered at her with only one eye open. "Can you hunt for Beth?" Deln repeated, letting the heat of the sun soak into him. "I suppose, if you can, then you can. Just don't wander far." Nodding once, Morwendor stood, and approached the river's edge. Turning back, she perused the trees lining the bank, and then gave Balron a stern look. "If not want raw meat, make fire." With that, she sprinted away to the nearest tree, and after spending a lengthy time circling it again and again, scrambled onto it's lowest branch, and began awkwardly climbing it. Curiousity won him over and Deln sat up, leaning back on his hands to watch Morwendor crawl along a thin branch overhanging the river. There she sat, staring with fierce intent at the lazy current below her while the grumbling man behind him went about finding kindling. "Husband?" All heads turned to Beth, who's face was scrunched up like she was about to sneeze. "What's wrong?" the Knight burst, dropping twigs and rushing to his wife. Morwendor swung off the branch, landing softly next to where the others were huddled. She gave the whimpering woman a funny look, her head cocked to the side. She knew that scent, she'd smelled it before she was made human. "I smell spawning." "It's coming, Bal! Ah!" Beth was panting, sitting in a growing puddle, looking helpless and desperate up at the Knight staring down at her. "Uh, what do I do?! Can you stand? I need to get you to the healing house!" "No time," Morwendor offered matter-of-factly, sniffing the air. "It comes now." "How do you-" but Deln didn't get to finish his question as Beth drowned him out with a scream. "Morwendor, you're a woman!" Becoming Woman Ch. 02 Balron spun around to face her, and both he and Beth gave her pleading looks, but Morwendor's eyebrows raised to her hairline and she only looked back at them blankly. "Yes." "Yes! A woman's duty, come, tend to Beth!" "What?!" Taken by surprise, Morwendor wasn't given a chance to react as the Knight pulled her swiftly to his wife's side, and down by her distended stomach. The woman was panting; Morwendor had never been close to a birthing before, it was no place for a male to be, but now that he was a she, she realised there was no choice but to do what was expected. "Deln need go, and Knight, hm, but I want shirt, and Knight shirt." Deln didn't hesitate to do as he was told, and quickly removed his tunic, giving it to Morwendor, who ripped up one side to make it bigger. Balron did hesitate though, and it was only when everyone else was glaring at him did he grudgingly take his leather vest and shirt off, standing as far away from the scene as he could while still giving the cloth over. "Balron, you bastard, I'm going to kill you!" Beth screeched, huffing at her retreating husband. "Beth, you know what to do?" Morwendor asked, pulling up layers of skirt and waiting nervously in the puddle of fluid between the sweat-slicked woman's legs. "Yes, just, ah, help pull when I push. Ah! Mor, it hurts!" Looking around the area, Morwendor spotted a thick stick and snapped off a small bit. Offering it to the woman's mouth, Beth clamped down, her desperate gaze never once leaving hers. Making innumerable horrible noises against the stick, Morwendor watched, intrigued as the baby started making it's way out of the woman. "Is it coming?" Balron asked, hugging a nearby tree, watching horror-struck, unable to look away. "I see it," she reassured, unsure how she should help Beth get the squirming body out of herself without hurting it. With much grunting and squealing with each push, the head of a baby appeared. The rest of the offspring came quickly once it's shoulders breached past muscle and bone, and Morwendor pulled it the rest of the way out, along with other unidentifiable squishy things. Finally, Beth fell back, and Morwendor busied herself trying to wipe off the slippery newborn as much as she could with Balron's tunic. Tossing the bloody tunic aside, she regarded the strange length of skin connecting baby to mother. "No! Morwendor, don't!" But it was too late, and Deln gagged, watching the girl bite through the umbilical cord. Balron fared worse, dry heaving where he leaned against a tree. Ignoring the pitiful state of both men, Morwendor spat and wrapped Beth's offspring in Deln's tunic, and handed the tiny bundle to it's mother. With Beth occupied with her newborn, Morwendor made short work of returning the remaining cord back from where it came. Beckoning the pale, shaking Knight over, Morwendor relinquished her position between the woman's legs and walked down to the river. She needed to get the smell of newborn off herself, and disregarding everything around her, leaned over the bank and dunked her head and shoulders into the rushing water. Hands were pulling her back too soon; she wanted to stay under the cold, cleansing wetness, but she found herself gasping and staring up into Deln's concerned gaze. "Are you alright?" he asked quietly, pulling her wet hair back out of her eyes. Morwendor looked over her shoulder to the Knight and his family, comforted to see the man finally doing his duty, helping his wife to her feet, and then scooping her up into his arms, their infant snuggled tightly against her bosom. "No. I don't like this. I want bath," she replied, just as quietly, to which Deln nodded. If she weren't so bothered by the scent of Beth's offspring clinging stubbornly to her, Morwendor would have liked to spend more time studying Deln's naked upper body. He was as pale as her, thinner than she'd first thought, the billowing white tunics he wore hiding his lean frame. "Come, we'll go back to the castle." The trip back was silent for Morwendor. Balron had uttered quiet thanks while his wife and newborn slumbered in his arms, but Morwendor had no desire to discuss or be anywhere near the three of them. The only thing she could think of was to get the smell off herself as soon as possible, and fought fiercely against the urge to give in to panic and run away. Sensing her discomfort, Deln offered to fetch hot water as soon as they were standing in her doorway. Balron had already disappeared to carry his wife off to the healing houses, much to the wild woman's relief. Morwendor sniffed herself and shuddered. She hated the drying scent of newborn, it made her heart race and goosebumps raise up her arms. Unable to untie the knots in her dress' lacings fast enough, she tore at the fabric, panicking at the sickening scent enveloping her nose. As soon as it was nothing more than a puddle of material on the floor of her rooms, she kicked it to the door, and rushed to the small bathing room. Finding the strongest flower scented bottle, she opened it, and squeezing her eyes shut, emptied the contents onto her face, rubbing it in as hard as she could into her chest and arms. She felt better, unable to scent the woman's offspring on herself any more, and sat, waiting patiently in the empty tub. Within minutes, Deln was knocking on her door, and when she called out to him, he came striding into the bath room, a large pale of water in hand. "Morwendor, no!" "No? Why?" Frowning and stepping backwards into the room, Deln deposited the bucket of water next to her, careful not to look down. "Mary told you not to be naked in front of others! Why are you naked? You should have waited!" He was tense, and she disliked the angry tone in his voice. How was she to be at fault for smelling like Beth's offspring? It was the woman who'd been so inconsiderate as to dowse her in amniotic fluid. "Deln, I not like spawn smell of Beth. Dress comes off and bath." "My bath is in my rooms. Don't get up!" "I don't understand. You need bath, Deln." Sighing resignedly to himself, Deln figured there was less logic in trying to explain the situation to Morwendor, and more in locking her door so no one could discover them in the indecent circumstances they were about to find themselves. "Wait here." Within a minute, he was back, two more large pales of water in hand. Ignoring her fixed stare, he poured the water into the tub, filling it more than half way. Leaving his under-breeches on, he didn't look into the sharp copper eyes staring at him and stepped into the bath, sitting awkwardly with his legs crossed in front of himself. Warm fingers pressed under his chin, raising his gaze, until he was forced to peer into Morwendor's eyes. He didn't want to look any lower than her chin, in fact found he was unable to lower his gaze at all. "Deln?" Determined not to sound like a stuttering fool, Deln cleared his throat. "Yes?" "Breathe." "Of course," the blonde muttered, blushing and breathing in deeply. "Do I dare ask why you smell like a field of wild lavender?" Morwendor relaxed the hold she had on his chin, and turned around in the water. "Smell bad." "Well, you used too much," he replied, eyeing the discarded, empty bottle nearby. "Not that. Offspring smell. Bad." Deln took a handful of lavender oil sodden locks, and pulled her head gently back into the water and began running his fingers through her hair. Morwendor's expression was unreadable, she seemed paler, and he wondered if she thought she'd done something bad. "You were very brave. Provided Beth survives, I'm sure all three will be very grateful for what you did today." Morwendor only hummed and closed her eyes, trying to focus on the gentle massages Deln was applying to her scalp. But her mind kept taking her back to the sight of the child being born; it was unusual to her, to see newborns coming in this way, and she wondered silently if she was also capable of such a feat. Feeling instantly sick at the thought of bearing offspring, she sat up again, yelping quietly when Deln's fingers caught in her tangled hair. Sitting with her knees drawn up to her chin, Morwendor remained quiet. Her silence was off-putting; Deln had rarely seen her so quiet, she seemed to be considering her experiences deeply, so he stayed silent too, not wanting to break her thoughts. Picking up a sponge, he scrubbed yellow soap onto it, and then tentatively ran it down her back, careful to avoid the long run of stitches. When she didn't move, he decided it was safe to continue, and made slow, soapy circles over her shoulders, moving further down her arms. "Deln, I want hunt," she said finally. He was caught off guard, and almost dropped the sponge. Getting a better hold on it, he squeezed it in the water between them, watching the cloud of tiny bubbles and suds rise to the surface. Unhooking the ladle from the side of the tub, he dipped it in the warm water. "What do you mean?" "Go hunt, in forest, go for long hunt." "How long?" Deln prodded, frowning as he poured water over her sun blushed skin; he didn't like her soft tone, there was something to it that unsettled him. "Maybe night and day. Maybe more night and day." "I don't think that's wise, Morwendor," he replied, wondering if she'd be very angry. "The witch is still out there, somewhere, she might try to hurt you." That he didn't want her to go, well, because he didn't want her to go was something he couldn't admit out loud to her, but something told him she'd 'smell' that on him anyway, just as she smelled that he liked her. She was quiet again, and he watched goosebumps raise up her arms to her neck. He wanted to reach out and comfort her, unsure why he felt she needed comforting. Instead he sat back, and looked away as she stood up in the tub. Still not facing him, Morwendor pulled a towel down from a shelf, and wrapped herself in it. He marvelled at the size of the towel compared to the girl. "Deln. I not ask for hunt. I say I want hunt, I hunt." "You also want to work on your communication skills," he muttered, frowning at her sharp tone. "You know I'll worry about you while you're hunting." Standing in the bathtub, he watched her pull another towel down and hand it to him. "Moon is bright soon. Easy for hunt. But witch not hunting for me, and if you need me, call and I will come. But Deln can not stop me for hunt." Morwendor dripped, making small, wet footprints on her floor as she made her way out of the bathroom to the dresser. She opened a draw, relieved to find it full of clothes, and pulled a pile of fabric out. "Are you going now?" Quickly drying himself off, Deln walked over to her, and sat on the side of her bed, sifting through the clothes she'd unearthed. Picking out a simple dark brown shift, he waited for her to dry off, and then helped her into the dress, his fingertips tingling every time he touched warm skin. "No. I wait for Deln for sleep, and go before sun, before day." Knowing he'd spend the night awake, then, he bit his bottom lip, but nodded. Why did he feel like a concerned, obedient wife, letting her husband fulfill his duty? Pushing the ridiculous image aside, he finished with the lacings and turned her around, offering the wild woman a smile. "Do you want to eat before you go?" Morwendor stood staring at him, and Deln felt another blush raise up his cheeks at her scrutinising look. "Why?" "Why what?" "Why do you say one thing but smell other thing?" she asked, still gazing curiously at him. "I don't understand," he offered, feeling a little ruffled by her words. "You not want Mor- me go for hunt, but you not say. You not care for food, but you not say. You want, hm, I do not know how say," she said, and sat on the bed next to him, frowning and regarding his confused expression like she could interpret the words from his icy blue eyes alone. "You want sleep here, with me, no, not sleep, only wait and see, and-" But Morwendor didn't finish, and instead her gaze turned to her hands, spread out in front of her. She knew the scent of him, knew that it was that he wanted her close to him, and giving up on struggling to say the words she couldn't understand, she swept onto him instead, wrapping her arms around his trembling frame, holding him close and tight against herself. "Morwendor, I can't-" The last thing he saw before he melted at the touch of her warm lips on his was the fire in her eyes. She was so hot, he was sure her fever was worse, or perhaps she wanted to burn him. He knew he was a fool, losing coherent thought the moment she kissed him, forgetting his body, and letting her embrace him so completely. He was dimly aware of being on his back on her bed, her lithe body wrapping around him. He felt as though he'd just drunk a mouthful of peach wine, the heat of her warming him completely, from his mouth to his throat and chest. Her teeth nibbled at his bottom lip, and he felt like whimpering at her touch, unable to move. Their tongues entwined, and stars burst behind his eyelids, but Morwendor kept on, lapping at him with every ounce of her being, holding him prisoner as her mouth assaulted his in the sweetest of ways. What man allowed a woman to behave so brazenly? What woman wanted a man who behaved so demurely? He couldn't think; she was drinking his very soul through his lips and filling him with a heady warmth at the same time. Her hands were in his hair, on his cheeks, around his throat, stroking his shoulders, and he was victim to her heat, the overwhelming sensations as she touched him, shivers running back up his chest to his neck, behind his ears. Sensing the man under her was close to swooning, Morwendor pulled back, her body still covering his, with no intention to remove herself, only to give him enough space to breathe. His eyes opened slowly, halfway, as though he was dreaming, but his heart was pounding in his chest so loud she could hear it. He was panting hard, still unable to fathom what she'd done to him, only able to lie paralysed in the state she'd put him in. She could scent so many things on his breath, desire, need, uncertainty, fear, so many different feelings, she wondered how he could manage it. One was quickly overtaking the others, though, and she frowned, concentrating on the aura surrounding him. A dark blush was heating his cheeks, and finally she identified the feeling taking him over, just as he sat up straight, putting his head in his hands. "Deln?" She reached out to touch his arm, but he flinched at the contact and stood, striding quickly towards the door. "Don't coddle me like a child, and don't think for a moment you know my thoughts. If you're going to go, stop delaying and just go!" Morwendor stared at the door long after he'd slammed it behind him, confusion rife in her mind. Had she said something bad? Should she not have kissed him? He made her feel as though her whole body were on fire, she wanted nothing more than for him to hold her like he'd wanted to, before the confusion came. That she'd upset him upset her, and she recognised the feeling, but wasn't sure how. She knew, deep inside herself, the way to make the one she cared for happy with her again was to hunt; she'd learned this lesson before, a lifetime ago. But her mind was presently still muddled, thanks to the lingering taste of him on her lips; the feel of his skin was still making her fingertips tingle. The confusion wouldn't let go, and she knew, as soon as she could run freely in the world, she'd understand herself again. She knew he wouldn't come back, not tonight. He didn't want to see her, she'd understood that much, and she had no desire to force him otherwise. Getting up from the bed, Morwendor stepped silently to the window, and sat on the cold stone before it, closing her mind to thought, and focusing solely on waiting for the rising moon. ------- Deln was concerned. In fact, his apprentice Melnin noted, he was down-right frantic. He'd never seen his Master so frazzled, but the tall blonde now paced his study, wringing his hands, muttering to himself. "Where could she have gone? Where? Two days, Melnin! Two! And not a word? Footsteps, that's all I heard for goodbye! But I yelled at her, and she's so timid. Oh, that must be it. I've upset her, and she's angry with me, but what should I do? What can I say?" Melnin started getting dizzy at his Master's pacing back and forth, and turned his attention back to his composition, keeping one ear pricked in case Deln actually wanted him to pay attention. "But what if it's something else entirely? Women don't like it when you don't know what you've done wrong, they get angrier. I've seen it happen, the Captain's wife, case in point. An embarrassment to be cowering before your own wife, but there he was-" "Master Bard, is something amiss?" Emble wandered into the study from the doorway, and Melnin sat amazed that the greying counsellor could look so intrigued and so bored at the same time, but then, the King's Chief Advisor was always very aloof when it came to the other members of court. "Yes, Emble! Morwendor is amiss!" Deln exclaimed, his arms wide in surrender. "I cannot find her. She left to hunt before dawn yesterday, and hasn't returned." Deln frowned to himself and started his muttering and pacing again, and Melnin returned his attention to his music. Emble took the Bard's study chair, and crossed his arms over his chest, watching the tall minstrel work himself into a frenzy, and shared a meaningful look with the apprentice. "The King ordered you to keep her with you at all times," he said, frowning, then cocked his head to the side when the Minstrel laughed. "When you spoke last, what did she say?" Deln stopped in his tracks and regarded the advisor for a full minute, struggling to remember anything past her heated advances. "She said she was going to hunt. She said," he paused, thinking hard, and then his pale blue eyes lit up. "she said to call for her if I needed her," he exclaimed, a smile reaching across his face. "If I call her, she'll come back!" "But," Emble interrupted, sitting forward, "she said to call her if you needed her, not if you simply wanted her to come back. Are you sure she won't be annoyed to return only to ease your worrying?" Deln's smile fell, and a light blush graced his cheeks. He did need her, but he didn't want them knowing that. What he didn't realise in his worked up state, was the fact was fairly obvious to anyone with eyes. "But shouldn't I call her? If the King finds out I've let her go off on her own... but how could I stop her? I dare anyone to try holding Morwendor against her will. If his Majesty learns she's disappeared, I'll be to blame, and what of her? She can't be punished for my failure!" "Master Bard, remember that Morwendor doesn't hold any allegiance to this kingdom. As an outlander, it is her decision to go where she pleases, as long as she understands the dangers, I suppose," Emble added, nodding. "Perhaps you ought to let her be, if only for a few more days, even if you do incur the King's wrath for it." "I suppose, perhaps. You're right," Deln said, slowly, seeing a way out of the discussion. "Of course, Advisor, I shan't call her unless needed. Thank-you." Emble nodded and stood. "His Majesty has requested a drum quartet at dinner tomorrow night. Can you at least do that much?" Deln frowned at him. "Of course." "Good. Take care, Bards," Emble stood and waved as he left the room in the same lofty manner as he'd entered. "Drums?" Melnin asked, giving his mentor a confused look. Deln only shrugged, his mind already back on Morwendor. Another two days passed, and Deln felt physically sick with worry. He'd lost the will to eat or sleep, let alone write music or poetry, and after watching his mentor fidget with the same quill for the whole morning, Melnin finally suggested he get some rest. After assuring his Master discretion, Deln left their duties in his apprentice's hands, something he'd never done before. But while his rational mind was away, he could only convince his desperate self that Melnin was up to the task, and instead spent his time pacing his own bed chambers, caught firmly between screaming for her from his balcony, and sulking in his bed at her persistent absence. Becoming Woman Ch. 03 Author's Note: There are no quick fixes here; this is my attempt at romance, rather than what a friend of mine refers to as a 'stroke story'. Alas, this chapter is longer than I'd originally intended, and I dare say(though I hope otherwise), the next shall be just as long. My earnest thanks to Kira; I truly value the time and effort you take with your editing. Also, I would like to thank Jim for your input! ~~~~~~ Deln woke to find the sun streaming unwelcome light onto his face. Groaning at himself for forgetting to close the door the night before, it took him more than a minute of staring at the large bay window to realise he'd moved into Morwendor's rooms sometime during the night. Pulling one of the thin pillows into his chest, he rolled over and pulled the moss-green blanket over his head, completely uninterested in anything the day had to offer him. Not a few minutes passed, and a loud banging rang out from his door through to Morwendor's chamber, and he groaned inwardly. "Master Bard! Sir?" Another loud banging, on Morwendor's door this time, and Deln grumbled something unintelligible but unfriendly towards the intruder, and hugged the pillow tighter. "Master Bard! Sir Balron bids you come to the castle gate, quickly!" There was a time when Balron's summons would have made his stomach flutter, but now Deln only felt contempt for the beckoning guard. "Master Bard!" "Yes, yes," he grumbled, getting out of the round bed. "Tell him I'm coming-" But he didn't get to finish his sentence, as the door was thrown open, and a tower guard came striding into the room, his feathered helmet and spear-tip almost reaching the ceiling. "Excuse me, my Lord, but he bids you come now," he pressed curtly, eyeing the disheveled Bard. Frowning, and wondering exactly what the emergency could be, Deln's thoughts quickly turned to Morwendor, covered in blood, being carried through the castle corridors, and he threw on his abandoned tunic from the floor, and followed the guard's sprint through the castle to the top of the barbican. "Deln! Good to see you up before noon," the First Knight quipped, giving the rumpled man a raised eyebrow. "I am in no mood for jest, Balron. What is it?" Deln growled, leaning, panting against the short stonewall. "We thought at first that it was chasing a deer, but, well, see for yourself, Master Bard," Balron replied, pointing into the distance. Pulling his long hair back into a loose pony-tail, Deln followed the direction of the knight's finger, and saw, without a doubt, Morwendor, in all her ragged, wild glory, being chased by a gargantuan Tiguran from the edge of the forest, over the fields and towards the castle. Deln couldn't pull his eyes away from the ginger and grey striped forest cat, so close behind the fleeing woman. It was horned, much like the horn of a mythical unicorn, but there were two of them, and only appeared on females of their kind, used to protect their young against aggressive pack members. "Look at the size of it! Must be what, twelve, fifteen feet!" one of the guards further along the wall exclaimed, making Deln's stomach turn. "And those horns! Gods, wouldn't want to be on the sharp end of those," his friend replied. Both fell silent as the Minstrel glared them down. "What is she doing?" he whispered, his eyes drawn to her as she zig-zagged in front of the great beast, slowing and speeding up in front of it. "Being hunted, by the looks," Balron replied, frowning at the advancing sight. "Strange for a tiguran to be out in the open, though. Archers! Ready aim!" "NO!" Deln screamed, pulling the captain's arm down. "They'll hit her!" Balron tsked, and waved his men down. "What do you suggest, then? She's still two miles from safety," he said, directing his stern gaze to the pale man. Deln stared at the wild woman, followed closely by the wild animal, pounding over the fields towards them. Fear was flooding him so much he couldn't move, but an idea came to him, a mad idea that would never work, but he had to try. "Open the gate," he said, to which the knight immediately shook his head. "Open the gate, and give me a sword. Close it after me, I don't care." "Wait, my Lords!" Both men directed their gazes back to Morwendor, who'd broken ahead of the beast. Coming up close to the castle, she put a fair distance between them, and then stopped, and spun around to face her pursuer. "NO!" Deln's horrified scream was drowned out by the huge animal's roar, and it lowered it's head, horns pointed straight at the girl, claws digging into the earth to give it more power and speed. She crouched low, and just as he was sure she was about to be pounced upon by it, she sprang atop a rock and jumped high into the air. Landing perfectly on the beast's straining back, she grabbed both horns, holding herself steady. With a powerfully sharp yank, twist, and screech, the animal stumbled, Morwendor jumping off it's back to the ground again. As soon as she was standing still beside it, she looked up at the barbican and waved cheerfully at the men, all of whom had dropped their jaws to the ground. Beside her, the giant tiguran lay still, it's considerably sized neck broken. "Have you ever seen anything like it?!" "Gods, a woman! Felling a beast that size!" "With her bare hands!" Ignoring the gushing men around him, Deln flew down the battlement steps, and through the opening portcullis, heading to where Morwendor stood, huffing in front of the dead animal. "ARE YOU MAD?! WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?!" he bellowed, running towards her. "You could've been killed!!" Morwendor let herself be caught in the man's embrace, let him press her close to him and spin her around, clutching her head to his chest. The sound of galloping hooves behind them told her that others were coming as well, but she didn't pull back, instead, turned her head so she could speak. "Fast this way. Carry dead hunt take more time," she said softly. "And you call." Deln blushed darkly at her words. He was beyond questioning how she could have heard him from as far as the forest. The mere fact that she'd heard him and come running expanded his heart so much he thought it'd burst. "Morwendor, I must congratulate you on a most successful and impressive hunt." Balron stepped down from his steed and studied the dead animal while Morwendor and Deln broke their embrace. "Thank-you," the girl replied carefully, eyeing the knight warily. "May I ask how you got it to chase you?" Morwendor looked between Deln and Balron, not sure if she wanted to give her hunting secrets away. "Make it angry with Mor-me," she said finally, satisfied with her answer. Balron rolled his eyes and pulled a length of rope down from his saddle. Before he could wrap the length around the beast's ankles, the girl was in front of him, baring her teeth, fury written all over her dirt-stricken face. "Unless you want to carry it all the way to the kitchens?" he asked, undeterred by the feral image in front of him. Deln pulled her back, but she continued to glare at the man, uninterested in losing her fresh prey to him. "Thank-you, Sir," Deln said, to the Knight's nod. "Come, Morwendor. Come and have a bath." Morwendor allowed herself to be led away, giving the Knight a last defiant glare from over her shoulder. Back in her rooms, Morwendor let Deln fuss over her, filling the tub with hot water and ordering her in. She didn't understand his obsession with clean skin, but still sniffing annoyance on him, decided it was better to let him do as he pleased for a while. "Morwendor, how did you make the animal angry with you?" he asked, finally breaking the silence as he rubbed a sponge down her back. Relishing the knowledge that Morwendor was back within reach, he pushed aside his excitement and focused on cleaning the girl. She'd gotten dirt on her stitches; she'd have to visit Mary anyway in case she'd acquired a new injury while away. "I make bad word on mate, and make pee on food," she replied immediately, causing the man to cough behind her. "She does not like pee," she added, turning around and giving him a look like he ought to understand that. "No, I can't imagine many animals do," he replied, blushing and picking up the lost sponge out of the quickly darkening bath water. "Why they take hunt away?" she asked, content to note his bristling scent had calmed a little. "They'll prepare it for dinner, tonight in the court." At this, Morwendor stood, ignoring the water splashing over the side of the tub, heat raising through her body to her cheeks. "No! I hunt for you, not court! Not court dinner, Deln dinner!" Caught off-guard for the second time in less than a minute, Deln wiped the splashed water off his face with his sleeve. There was nothing for it; he'd have to bathe too, now that he was covered in her dirty bath water. "And I appreciate it, I'm very grateful," he called as she clambered out of the tub and disappeared from sight. "It was very impressive!" Getting up, he followed the girl's wet footprints from the bathroom to her bedroom dresser. He thanked the gods above that she still hadn't figured out which clothes went on first and closed the dresser drawer again. "Morwendor, I don't eat meat," he said, directing her back to the bathroom. Experience should have told him to expect it, but he jumped when her sharp teeth dug into the wrist on her shoulder. She let go just as quickly, and directed her fiery gaze at him before climbing carefully back into the tub. "Not good. Deln eat meat. Meat is good food." "Yes," he replied tiredly, "meat is good to eat, but it does not like me, and never stays in my stomach." "Deln?" "Hm?" "You not want hunt?" Defenseless against her hurt tone, Deln shook his head and pulled her back so that her matted hair lost the leaves inhabiting it in the water. "I do, Morwendor, I feel very special. I'll enjoy tonight's dinner, yes?" The girl smiled up at him from where her head lay back in the water, and he was charmed by her sweet smile. In turn, Morwendor's attention was drawn to the twinkling pale blue eyes giving her such a gaze that she was sure she was blushing over her entire body. "Yes." "Will you come to dinner tonight?" Morwendor's happy expression immediately closed. He'd asked this of her before, and she'd already turned him down. Now she wondered why he was asking again. She sat up and frowned to herself; she was no tame pet, she would not sit and be quiet to make others feel comfortable. "No. Not want-" "-people staring, I know," Deln finished for her, unable to help feeling a little disappointed. "Do you want me to bring dinner to you again?" Morwendor splashed Deln, frowning deeply at him. Tempted to bite, she held back only to berate him some more. "I hunt to bring you dinner. Not always Deln bring me dinner." "Why don't we eat together, then?" Deln compromised. "Not with others?" He shook his head, biting his tongue. As much as he was sure King Imlan would disapprove of his absence yet again, he didn't want to let the wild woman out of his sight, and felt as though his own blush was turning just as deep red as hers. How did they come to be so awkward around each other? "Just the two of us. I'll show you where the kitchens are and then we can eat back up here. My rooms have a small balcony, so we can sit out with the stars. How does that sound?" "You stay and eat with me?" Morwendor got up and walked into the towel her golden-haired man offered. They hadn't eaten together since the last night she'd stayed in the healing house, and she missed it. "Dry yourself off, and I'll help you put a dress on. Then we'll go together to the kitchens and fetch dinner." As soon as she was dressed, Deln took the girl's hand, and they walked hand in hand to the kitchens. Biting her tongue to distract herself from skipping circles around Deln, Morwendor let him lead her through the candle-lit corridors of the castle. Servants passed them by, carrying large, silverware platters on their shoulders. Morwendor avoided their curious, wandering eyes, gripping Deln's hand a little tighter. "You fell a huge tiguran on your own, and yet passing a few servants in the safety of the castle halls with me by your side still bothers you?" Morwendor stared up at the blonde, trying to make sense of his words, but gave up quickly when he didn't seem to need a response. "Deln, I am lost," she said finally, when he stopped them. Unbeknownst to Morwendor, they stood in front of the kitchen door. The cooks knew him well for his bad reaction to meat and his love of toffee, but they would be meeting his charge for the first time, and he wasn't sure how she'd react to the sight of so much food and such a bustling place. "Stay close to my side, Morwendor. If you see something you'd like, tell me and I'll ask the cooks, yes?" Bright orange eyes stared up at him, and Morwendor nodded that she understood. Taking a deep breath, Deln knocked loudly once, and swung the large wooden door open. Directly in front of them, a white haired man of massive girth stood behind a wooden bench, and when his beady bright blue eyes fell upon his favourite bard, he opened his arms and showed his flour covered palms in greeting. "Ah, Maestro, welcome, welcome! How are ye this fine evening, lad?" "Well, thank-you, Master Gridath. And you?" "Oh fine, fine, lad. And who's the wee one ye've brought with ye tonight?" Gently pulling Morwendor around from behind him, Deln smiled at her encouragingly while she took in the numerous benches, furnaces and apron-wearing cooks rushing around behind the giant man. "This is Morwendor, Master Gridath-" "Ah!" the cook interrupted and leaned over the counter, pushing his fat, moustached face forward. "Say t'isn't so, Deln, she's but a wee little thing!" "Deln? I do not understand his word-speak," Morwendor grumbled, still grasping one of his arms with both hands. The cook was staring at her, but she didn't want to match his gaze; there was something greedy about the way he looked at her, like he was contemplating her as a serving of food. "Morwendor, this is Master Gridath, Head Cook for the King." "Oh, a fine title, to be sure, lassie, but nae' ye mind it, jis call me Gridath if ye can manage," the jolly man responded giving her a toothy grin. "Is it true, lass? Dinnae tell me ye were all alone hunting that beast?" "Hunting? Yes, I hunt for Deln dinner, but he say to me 'I do not eat meat'." "Oh, aye, lass," Gridath replied, giving her a wink as she relaxed in front of him. "I've been trying to fatten him up since he was nae' but a wee lad, but he eats less than a waif as yerself." "What is waifasyerself?" "Someone like you," Deln supplied, raising an eyebrow at the cook. "Oh." Morwendor had to agree; she couldn't see Deln eating a whole fish in one go, either. "Gridath, could we trouble you for dinner?" Deln asked, and the big man nodded. "And, a gentle portion of Morwendor's hunt for me," he added, grimacing as the words came forth. "Yer asking for pain, laddie, but t'be sure, ye'll have yer gentle portion," Gridath replied, unable to suppress a grin when he turned back to his cooks. "Oi Laurelei! Dinner fer two 'n t'go!" "Aye, Sir!" one of the cooks yelled out. "Anything else, lad?" Deln gazed down at Morwendor, a small curve playing on his lips at the expectant look on her delicate features. "Do you happen to have any toffee left from my batch?" he asked, to which Gridath nodded vigorously. "Aye, I wondered if ye'd be after summat sweet," he smirked. "Kept this aside, the others've pinched the rest," he added, handing over a glass jar from under his bench. Deln opened the jar, and Morwendor immediately caught the enticingly sweet scent. "I know this smell!" Deln laughed; the wild woman was staring at the jar of left-over toffee he'd made while she'd been gone like it was the biggest fish she'd ever seen. "I'm relieved to hear you say that," he quipped, surrendering the open jar to her outstretched hands. "I was wondering if you'd remembered how we met." "Dinner's up!" "Ah, here we go, Maestro, ye mind yer stomach now," Gridath warned as two cooks brought over a tray each, both with roast meat and vegetables. "Thank-you, Gridath. Morwendor?" Deln motioned for Morwendor to give him the jar, but she clutched it tightly and shook her head. "Oh, dinnae worry lass, the Maestro here'd love to make ye some more jus' soon as ye ask," Gridath offered to the wide-eyed girl. Glancing between the jar and Deln, Morwendor bit her lip, and handed it over. He gave her a smile in return, put the lid back on and put the jar on one of the offered trays before taking it. Realising she'd need to carry one as well, Morwendor accepted the other with a nod to the cook holding it out. "Good night, Master Cook," Deln farewelled, and Morwendor followed silently. "Deln?" she asked timidly as she followed his path through the now empty corridors; she didn't have his hand to hold, and though nobody was around, she felt her heartbeat jump in tempo. "Concentrate on carrying your tray for now," he replied, leading them quickly back to his rooms. Sooner than she expected, they walked past her chamber door, the surrounding tapestries telling her where she was. She could see finding her way to her rooms in future would be an easier task than it was currently and quietly smiled at the comforting realisation. Deln stopped outside his room and put the tray down. Opening the door, he gestured Morwendor in, before retrieving his dinner. Curling his lip at the meat sliced on the plate, he followed her path into the room, and realised it would be the first time she was seeing them, and rued that it was already night. The scent of Deln was on everything, as though soaked into every fabric. Morwendor's head spun at the sweetness of it, and she wanted to press her face into every piece of cloth. Salivating madly as she watched him balance his tray one-handed and open the balcony doors, the sight of the world outside instantly stole her attention. "Come," he beckoned gently, and she followed his voice to the moonlit perch. The platform was small: large enough for two comfortable-looking wooden chairs and a round table, but not much else. The stone banister was low, like the little wooden table; but the wide landscape, opening onto the courtyard below, and the trees stretching far off into the distance silenced her. "Do you like it?" he asked, placing his tray on the table. Morwendor nodded, her eyes stuck on the view, trying to take it all in at once. Deln was truly clever, to have his nest stuck to the side of the castle, but she wasn't jealous; her nest was inside, safe and warm, and she could still see the world from her room's window. But to eat and be comfortable so high and outside amazed her. Gesturing for the wide-eyed girl to join him, Morwendor sat in the offered chair, but was no longer interested in food, and left her tray abandoned beside his. Instead, she stared at the world on display, while Deln lit the table lamp and set to his dinner. "Thank-you, Morwendor. It was very good," Deln said finally, putting his empty plate back down on the tray. Her attention recaptured, Morwendor blinked at the man. Though he was still smiling, he was blushing furiously, his sky blue eyes twinkling at her again. "You like my hunt?" In an instant, she was on top of him, again, and the anger he'd felt at being at her mercy before came back to the surface. He didn't want her in charge, a woman, taking control of him like this, it embarrassed him. A strong part of him resented her instinct to be on top, to keep a hold over him, but another, quieter part of him was joyful and comfortable in her embrace. He wanted so much to let her do what came naturally to her, but childhood memories of being teased and bullied because of his lean stature and gentle features were ingrained in him, and another voice, old and masculine told him to grow up and be a man. Becoming Woman Ch. 03 Panting, he opened his eyes, and realised he was still holding Morwendor by her upper arms above him. She was frozen in his grip, her copper eyes staring down at him. He was wearing the same scent he wore before she'd left, and it worried her. He'd just accepted her hunt! Hadn't she proven herself worthy? The anger in his eyes settled down as he calmed his breathing, but his hold on her remained strong. "Don't-" he started, and then stopped. He didn't want to tell Morwendor what to do and what not to do, but he was sure she wouldn't understand. "-just, please, don't stand over me like this, okay?" Deln shook his head trying to clear it, and stood, pushing Morwendor off and back away from him. The girl cocked her head to the side, but continued to regard him with wide eyes. "I do not understand." Morwendor's favourite words, uttered quietly and unsure made him turn and sit back down. Being angry wasn't an option for him now; it was mere ignorance that determined her actions, an ignorance that he would have to very soon address. "Morwendor, I'm sorry. In this place, a woman is to be quiet and gentle." "I am not quiet and gentle," she replied, frowning slightly at him. "No, you most certainly aren't." Deln chuckled. Morwendor's frown fell even further and she breathed in sharply. Deln had seen that expression before, and wracked his brain to remember. "Deln, I should go," she said finally, eyeing the balcony doors. "What?! No!" Deln gasped and jumped out of his chair. Before she could blink, Morwendor was pulled into his embrace. "Don't you dare leave me again! Don't say that, don't even think it!" Panic took up residence in his throat, even with his wild woman safely in his grasp. Uninterested in anything other than keeping her that way, Deln bent down and captured her heated lips with his. Sweeping her off her feet, he sat down in his chair and cradled her against him. More than reluctant to pull away from Deln's soft lips, Morwendor ended their kiss and nuzzled into his chest. Curled in the tall man's lap, she was content to doze, feeling his breath tickle her neck. Deln smiled into her hair, breathing her in. She was so warm, even on a cold Winter's night like this one, her body seemed to defy nature and run at its own temperature. He smiled at that; Morwendor's defiance was not restricted to her personality, then. Morwendor was almost asleep in her golden angel's lap, when his stomach made a dissenting grumble. "Oh, this is not going to end well for me. Get up." Morwendor scooted off Deln's lap, and he pulled her immediately back down onto his seat. Even though night had long since fallen, she could see his frown of consternation. "Stay here." ~~~~~~ "I want to give Deln some-th-ing nice." "Didn't you hunt for him recently?" Mary asked, but Morwendor shook her head at the old woman, sighing every time she felt thread being pulled through scar tissue. "Deln does not eat meat," she replied, huffing at the memory of watching him struggle to eat the hunt she'd provided for him, only to watch him later that same night, throwing it back up again. "He does seem the delicate type. Why don't you gather some berries from the forest? I'm sure the cooks would be happy to dip them in chocolate for you," Beth offered, rocking her baby boy in her arms around the room. Again, Morwendor shook her head and catching a stray lock of long hair between her teeth, pulled and snapped it short like the rest. "Males want offspring. How long did that one take?" she asked, to startled eyes. "Nine months, and two weeks," Beth said, smiling proudly at her little boy. "That is a long time to sit," Morwendor mused, thinking to herself. "Oh, it's a wonderful idea, to be sure, lovey, but usually marriage comes before children," Mary stuttered, catching on, and pulling the last stitch from the girl's back, sat down. "What is marriage?" Beth and Mary exchanged significant looks. Rumours were flying rampant through the castle walls that the renowned 'wild woman' and the King's Minstrel had become lovers, but to Mary, that Deln hadn't mentioned marriage to her at all seemed very unlike his character. "Well, it's when a man and woman give each other a ring, and they promise to love each other and stay together for the rest of their lives," Beth explained, putting her now sleeping infant in his cot. "I like this marriage. Can I give marriage to Deln?" Both women stared at the girl incredulously. "Er, well, there's ceremony to be stood on, lovey, it's the man that asks the woman, not the other way around," Mary said, smiling behind her tea. Beth had something else on her mind. "His Majesty's First Minstrel can't marry just anyone, you know," she started, crossing internal fingers. "He's expected to marry from the court, a lady in waiting, or another of the King's staff," she said, cringing at the admission. Morwendor only looked at the women curiously. Mary was scenting disapproval at Beth, but she wasn't sure why. "I do not understand." "Um, she means you can't marry Deln, sweetheart," the old woman said, nervously. "Why? Because I am strange?" "Of course not, lovey!" "But, it is, Mary," Beth said, exasperatedly crossing her arms over her chest. "That's exactly it. Morwendor's no lady in waiting, and she's not under oath to the King. She's a stranger here, that's why-" she stopped talking, and turned back to Morwendor, giving her an appraising eye. "That's why," she continued, her eyes suddenly glittering with excitement, "we make her a lady of the court!" ~~~~~~ It was late in the afternoon and King Imlan was pacing his study chambers, closely watched by Emble. His Chief Advisor had come looking harassed, and after a long discussion, they were drawing close to a solution; the solution the Lady Beth had offered that same morning. "So you see my Lord, even we cannot meddle as well as women," the Advisor offered, leaning back against a tapestry. "Perhaps I should post Sir Balron's wife as my Chief Advisor, then," he grumbled. "I will have this kingdom's debts paid in full, and I would see the King's Minstrel back at his post as he should be. But perchance his infatuation is fickle?" "Naught have seen Master Deln so distracted, and he is one known for distraction," Emble replied, rolling his eyes. "I surmise his Majesty should address the situation; Deln is proud of his post, and a well-worded warning of dismissal will shake him. In his current state, I doubt Master Bard realises his neglect." "And you believe this is the best way to address and resolve the situation?" the King asked, finally taking the seat back at his desk. Emble nodded, moving forward to stand beside his Lord. "Scander has long needed a worthy hunter to join his garrison. And after her miraculous display, the castle guards would vouch for the wild woman, I'm sure," he replied slowly. Imlan frowned to himself, but Emble was pleased. The King had many frowns, and he'd learned long ago this was an optimistic one. "Very well, send him in," he gestured to the door. "You summoned me, Sire?" Deln stood in the doorway of the King's study. He paled at King Imlan and his Advisor both giving him stern, unflinching glares. Suddenly feeling very self-conscious, he straightened his vest. "Yes, Master Bard. My Chief Advisor has told me a few disturbing things. Please, have a seat." Sure all the blood had drained from his face, Deln took the wooden chair in front of his King's desk. Behind Imlan, Emble remained expressionless. For a long moment, too long for the King to be staring at his servant, both he and Emble were still as stone. If the blood hadn't drained from Deln's face at those first unhinging glares, it had now. Finally, King Imlan spoke. "You let the girl leave the castle." He drew his eyes down to the parchment in front of him and wrote as the Bard in front of him stuttered. "It was not within my power to make her stay, Sire. Morwendor holds no loyalty or allegiance to my Lord's kingdom. She is free to travel as she will. I could only warn her of the danger she was in," Deln replied, echoing Emble's earlier given advice. Behind his King, Emble subtly nodded his approval of Deln's words, giving him an inch of strength. "Quite right, I suppose," Imlan replied, putting his quill down. "But you did not seek to advise anyone of her departure? Neither Knight, Advisor, nor King?" "I," Deln started, and then feeling a blush creep up his cheeks, bowed his head. "I was not myself for a while." Imlan rested his elbows on his desk, and his chin in his clasped hands. So, the Bard had the sense to come clean quickly. "So it would seem. I have had my best trackers hunting down the Queen's mother, and it did not miss their eyes when Morwendor went running in the forest. She came very close to being within the witch's grasp." At this, Deln looked up at his King, a cold shiver running up his spine and along his arms. Morwendor had come so close to being captured, or worse because of his neglect. "The Queen's mother has been found?" "We are closing in on her, yes. But Master Bard, we are not here to discuss that. You are the topic of discussion," Imlan said, standing to impose his imperial height over the Minstrel. "Rumours are flying wild of a scandal involving yourself and this poor, innocent girl. You are neglecting your duties, been absent from your post during feasts, allowed your apprentice to take charge and forgotten your place in my kingdom! Explain yourself!" Another cold shiver ran down Deln's arms, and he shied back from his King, whom he'd never seen so angry. Swiftly standing from the chair he'd cowered into, Deln bowed as low as he could. "My Lord, I apologise most earnestly. I have no explanation for you, only my admission of guilt. If I disgrace you so, remove my standing from court, and I shall further remove myself from your kingdom." "Rise, Bard," Imlan sighed, sitting back in his chair. Being hard on his favoured subjects was difficult. "You will not resign your post, nor will you continue to neglect it. Quell the rumours surrounding your name, and if at all possible, rein in your obstinate charge." "His Majesty is too kind," Deln offered, still staring at the desk in front of him, rather than his King's eyes. "You speak too hastily, Master Bard, and do not start walking on egg shells on my behalf," Imlan countered, gesturing him back to his seat. "I am hereby ordering Morwendor's confinement to the castle grounds. If she is to leave your sight, she will be accompanied by an armed guard." "I don't believe she will allow herself to be held captive, my Lords," Deln replied, wincing. "She will have no choice in the matter," Emble interrupted, frowning deeply at the Bard. "She is a woman and will behave thusly." "It is my final word on the matter, Deln. Do not forego this chance to redeem yourself." Hearing the dismissive tone to the King's voice, Deln nodded and stood. "Thank you, Sire. I shall not disappoint you again. Shall I take my leave?" he asked, bowing again. With a nod of his head, Imlan dismissed the bard, and Deln made his hasty exit. Emble turned and finally regarded Imlan as the King put quill to parchment once more. "Sire, if I may say, you truly are a mighty King," he teased, smiling. "Don't you have a substantially large work-load as of now, advisor?" Imlan quipped back, pointing with his free hand to the door. "Aye, My Lord, I shall leave thee to thy Kingly thoughts." Emble made his way from the King's study as quickly as he could, and soon Deln's long blonde hair was visible as he stalked alone down the darkening corridors. "Master Bard!" Deln stopped walking, and turned, shoulders slumping when he recognised the King's Advisor striding towards him. "My Lord?" "Deln, I would speak with you a moment," Emble said, coming up to walk beside him. "I want to discuss these rumours of you and Morwendor." "I shall address them promptly, my Lord, I assure you," Deln replied, frowning as he walked. "Had I the sense to know what was being gossiped about, I wouldn't have allowed Morwendor's name to be tarnished so." "Then am I correct in assuming you have not bedded her?" Emble asked, ignoring the glare directed at him. "Certainly not! I appreciate you have some faith in my character after all, my Lord." "Deln, stop. Please," the advisor pulled the Bard to halt him from his path. "I only wish to know your intentions. It is no secret you feel for the girl, but it is my duty to keep King Imlan's court behaving with civility. Will you not speak with me?" Deln regarded the sage advisor for a long moment. His dark eyes were full of sincerity; he had no reason to deceive him, but Deln was at a loss. "My heart cannot allow Morwendor to seek another's love, but I am forbidden to make her mine. It is the law of our King that I should not marry any other but one of his court, and she is not, nor will she ever be. The only remaining option is to sever our friendship, as I cannot allow these rumors and false hopes to escalate." Emble regarded Deln as he'd just been regarded. The memory of the Bard's frantic pacing and worrying was ever present in his mind. Severing his friendship with the girl would do no good, it would break the Bard's heart, and he would be even more useless than he was already. Beth's good advice was coming to surface again, and he knew her plan would work. "Your family name is known among the great smiths, Deln, but you became the King's Bard. Since you hold the highest standing in your family, you will be certain to marry first," Emble said, tapping a finger against his chin. "Your mother died with the birth of your sister, but her wedding ring, if it still remains within the family would rest in your care. My advice would be to keep that particular ring close for a time, Master Bard." Leaving Deln speechless, with his jaw scraping on the ground, Emble turned and walked away before he could regain his composure. As soon as he turned a corner, he found himself struggling to keep in check the triumphant skip in his step. ~~~~~~ In the week leading up to the Yule feast, Morwendor saw less and less of Deln. The afternoon he'd fetched her from Beth and Balron's chambers, he'd been strangely quiet, responding half-heartedly when she spoke about her day. Beth had made her promise not to talk about her scheme with Deln. It was to be a 'surprise', though Morwendor had less of a clue of what one of those was than she did about what they were actually talking about in the first place. They hadn't eaten together since her hunt made him sick, and though he'd promised to take her with him to his 'pretty words place', he'd left her in her rooms every day, and put shining men in front of her door. But each afternoon he would come by, leave her water for her bath, and ask if she'd go to dinner. When she refused in the beginning, it was with confusion, but the more she was left alone, the angrier Morwendor became. Now, almost a week later, and she'd had enough. It was clear Deln did not want to be anywhere near her, and so instead of remaining and nursing a hurting heart, she decided she'd leave as it seemed exactly what he wanted her to do. Glaring at her reflection in her bathroom mirror, she didn't hear the knocking at her door. "Good afternoon, Morwendor!" No answer met Beth's ears, so she knocked harder. "Morwendor?" Giving her companion a shrug, she and Emble walked past the armed guards and into the wild woman's empty rooms. Beth's eyes were drawn immediately to the bed and floor; Morwendor's clothes were everywhere, her bedding rumpled and gathered on one side, and the wild woman herself was nowhere to be seen. Emble strategically stepped over garments and stood by the window. "Oh, by the gods, Morwendor!" "Beth?" Morwendor finally heard the noises coming from her bedchamber, and popped her head out of the bathroom. Beth was glaring at her, an intense blush gracing her freckled cheeks, her hands on her hips. "Morwendor, this place is a mess!" "Hello Beth. I cannot speak words with you. I must... Who are you?" the wild woman barked, storming up to the regal looking man standing by her window. Unaffected by the high-pitched outburst, Emble merely shook the finger pointed at his nose. "Pleased to meet you, Morwendor, I am Lord Emble." "Mor, what are you doing?" Beth asked, exasperatedly gesturing at the complete mess around them. "Oh," Morwendor muttered, regarding the finger the strange man had just shaken, "I go soon. Did not know what I am to go with." "What do you mean 'go'?" Beth held both of the wild woman's arms at her sides, and looked her in the eye. She owed Morwendor a debt of gratitude; she would not let her go unrewarded. "I go. Deln not want me here, so I go," Morwendor replied, shrugging, but Beth could clearly see the pain in her eyes. "Did he say he does not want you here?" Emble asked, stepping forward. He didn't believe the bard would have said such, and Morwendor confirmed his belief by shaking her head. "Then how do you know he does not want you here?" "He does not speak words with me and does not want to see me." "The King's Minstrel is a very busy man, Morwendor," Emble remarked gently. "And he is especially busy at this time of year. Do you understand?" Morwendor shook her head and gave Beth a hopeless look. Biting her lip, Balron's wife thought hard about how she could explain Deln's position in the King's court so that the wild woman could understand. "Do not know busy." "Deln's duty to his King is as a bard; music, prose, poetry-" "-Deln makes pretty words," Morwendor argued, shaking her head. "Yes," Emble agreed, smiling warmly at the fretting girl. "Making pretty words is Deln's duty to King Imlan. But instead of doing his duty he has been tending to you." "Deln does not say of duty. I did not know Deln duty to king." "Morwendor, your accomplishments have reached the King's ear, and his Majesty has granted you a place in his kingdom. If you would give him your allegiance-" "-No, please!" Emble raised an eyebrow at Morwendor's immediate refusal, but she looked fearful, not angry, and Beth was quick to pull the girl to her side. "She doesn't understand you, my Lord," Beth added, exasperated, Morwendor clutching her arm. "I bid you use smaller words." "Morwendor, Beth and I want to help you. If you want to keep Deln by your side, you must do everything we say for the next two days. You have no other choice," Emble said finally, crossing his arm over his chest. Morwendor looked from woman to man, at a complete loss as to what she should do. ~~~~~~ For what must have been the hundredth time, Deln patted the inside pocket of his vest. The Chief Advisor's words echoed constantly in his mind, but he dared not cling to the hope Emble had spoken of. Winter Solstice, Yule had finally arrived, and the great hall was filling slowly, kitchen staff first, laying out the feast that would ring in the shortest day of the year. The servants followed quickly after, filling wine goblets, and then his fellow bards wandered in, sighing contentedly at the shining sight of the magnificent hall, lit by candles and fireplaces set throughout the laden tables, before taking their seats beside the dance-floor. Pair by pair, members of court began entering, taking their seats. Deln ensured no moment went by filled with silence, instead weaved his musician's melodies together with the conversations bubbling around them. He'd turn when he could, his eyes scanning the incoming crowds, unable to find the one he was looking for. At Melnin's subtle nod behind his flute, Deln's breath caught in his throat. His stomach flipped, and he turned, expecting to see Morwendor. But Emble, Balron and Beth were walking in, and he sighed, disheartened, before realising their arrival heralded the King's. Raising his baton, he indicated the trumpets, which rang loud and merrily through the hall, and the whole court stood, and cheered as King Imlan walked through the tall doors, followed closely by his son and daughter. Becoming Woman Ch. 03 All Deln could think of as he conducted the trumpeter's tune was that Morwendor hadn't come. He was disappointed, but not surprised. Before visiting her prior to preparing for the feast, he'd asked her if she'd come, she'd only said 'maybe'. But he had hoped that if she ever would, she'd have come out of her rooms on this particular night. Rounding off the melody, he bowed low to the King, and took his seat with the rest of the musicians to await the royal address. "My Lords, and Ladies, I bid you welcome to this grand feast of Winter Solstice!" Cheering broke out all around them again, and Deln forced a smile onto his face when his comrades patted him on the back. "Please," Imlan continued, waving the din down, "I would ask us all to give thanks, for that which we have received," he said, and winked in Deln's direction, to the Minstrel's utter confusion. "Give freely to your brothers and sisters, as they give freely to you. Be kind to one another and bless those around you with love." Deln looked around the hall to watch the crowd nodding and smiling at the King, touched by his words. "And now, finally, before we fill our bellies with this delicious food and wine, I would like to make an introduction. Less than a month ago, you may have heard of an attack on Prince Flein and Princess Fohnrir by a group of bandits-" Deln swallowed hard. He looked at the twins, but they were both beaming at him and he blushed and looked down at his lap instead. "-they were saved by a stranger; someone who held no allegiance to this kingdom. But if not for her brave deed, I would not have- my beautiful- children this day..." When silence reigned, Deln looked up to see unshed tears in his Lord's eyes. One look at his choked up King, and Emble immediately rose to stand beside him. "My Lords and Ladies, please join me in welcoming our newest member of court, Lady Morwendor of outer-lands, Royal Hunter and ally of our beloved King Imlan." All eyes turned as one to the doors of the great hall. As they opened, a lone figure stepped forward, and if Deln had been told by anyone but the King's Chief Advisor that the sight before him was his wild woman, he wouldn't have believed them. Applause broke out like thunder, deafening him, but Deln had no need of his ears. A slender, pale girl with a head of soft brown curls walked forward nervously. Wrapped tightly in black woven cloth that fell to a lace skirt around her ankles, she wore delicate silver ribbons tied like sashes around her waist and wrists. Nestled in her hair was a fine silver tiara, and she regarded the clapping people with bright orange eyes. Deln felt his heart drop to his feet as he stared dumbfounded into liquid fire eyes when she found him and started walking towards him. "Morwendor?" The dark-haired beauty smiled, her eyes glinting like embers, and nodded. "Yes, Deln." "But you, you're, you're-" Deln shook his head, unable to get the words out, and swallowed hard, instead simply stared at the stunningly beautiful girl standing in front of the whole hall. "Mary said I was make noise when I come," she offered meekly, pressing her pale hands over her skirt, "so Sir Emble suggest I make 'grand entrance'." "So everyone, everyone knew?" Morwendor crinkled her nose at the blonde. "I did not know 'grand entrance' mean this." Sudden realisation dawned on Deln that the whole court had fallen silent and was staring at them blatantly, and the blush gracing his cheeks darkened. "Morwendor, you need to go sit down," he muttered, motioning to the lengthy table in front of him, but the girl shook her head, making her soft curls bounce. "Not without Deln." "Mor-" Morwendor remembered what the King's Advisor had told her, and ignoring her golden-haired man's quiet protests, took his hand, and led him away from the other musicians. Murmurs broke out amongst the crowd of people as she walked them to two empty spaces reserved next to Balron and Beth. His cheeks feeling so hot they could rival the sun's surface, Deln dimly remembered to pull the chair out for her, and she sat, smiling demurely at him as he joined her. As soon as they were seated, the feast began, and the members of court who were still staring, turned their attention to their meals. "Master Bard," Balron greeted warmly, "and welcome, Lady Hunter." "Lady Morwendor, you look delightful," Beth simpered beside him, beaming at them both. "Lady," Deln repeated, looking over to where he'd stood conducting his fellow musicians, expecting to see himself lying unconscious on the floor, "Lady?" "Master Bard, were you not paying attention to my grandiose speech?" Emble had wandered up the table, and stood now behind Balron. Deln couldn't help feeling annoyed at their smug expressions. Morwendor said nothing, and paid acute attention to the platter of meats and cheeses in front of her. "Thank-you, my Lord, I was, but your monotonous voice almost put me to sleep. Had it not been for Morwendor's radiant appearance, I'd have thought you were discussing the dismal weather with us," he replied scathingly, narrowing his eyes at his superior. "Lady Morwendor, Master Bard. She's only had the title a moment, barely long enough for you to forget it," Emble retorted, and smiling sweetly at the girl, he turned, and left them to their meals. "I like snow," Morwendor said, swallowing a mouthful, ignorant to the glare Deln was directing at the Advisor's back. "Pretty and feel good, but make hunt more, hm, what is word?" "Difficult," Deln replied at once, and Morwendor dropped her fork to press her fingers against his lips, watching him intently. "Say again." Unable to stop the smile spreading over his lips, Deln obliged, and repeated the word. "Difficult," she echoed softly, hesitating before taking her hand away. Unseen beside her, Balron raised an eyebrow at Deln, but said nothing, and engaged his wife in a discussion over the hall's decorations before he could receive the same glare Emble had been given. "Lady Morwendor, may we speak with you?" Morwendor looked up to see a group of young people standing in front of her, holding out a shining goblet. Giving Deln a look of surprise, he only nodded back at her in encouragement, and she nodded at them in turn. "It is customary to stand," Balron muttered, and giving him the same wide-eyed look, Morwendor stood, and accepted the offered cup pressed into her hands. "We were only wondering, now that you've officially joined the court's ranks, if you would care to teach some of us to hunt?" the bravest one who'd been holding the wine asked, the others smiling nervously behind him. "Teach?" "Yes," another spoke up. "We heard how you hunted and felled a giant tiguran with your bare hands." "How else to hunt?" Morwendor asked, clearly confused. "One hunt with strength, only strength." The group of youngsters made appreciative sounds, and their eyes grew larger, but Morwendor couldn't understand their awe, and wanted nothing more than to sit down and eat her food. "Very impressive, my Lady, but we mere mortals use arrows and blades to hunt our prey," Balron offered, his ears pricked to the conversation. "Perhaps a private hunt would be acceptable?" he asked, watching the girl's eyes narrow at the gathered youths. "No arrow, no blade. No so many. One for hunt, others make noise." "But, Lady Hunter-" The 'once was' bravest of the approachers flinched back when Morwendor bit the air in front of him. Balron's hand automatically made for his sword, but stopped when her fierce gaze flitted to his movement. When she turned her attention back to the young man, Deln noted with relief that she was breathing deeply; she was trying to calm her swift anger. "One only. Hunt not game. I will take one tomorrow." Considering the conversation over, Morwendor sat, and the group bowed, still gawking open mouthed, and quickly made their way from the table, speaking in hushed murmurs. "Do you really think it wise to let her take them hunting?" Deln asked the Knight, ready to start an argument. "Get her to take Don. He's been my squire in the field for three seasons now. He's able and he'll take her instructions," Balron replied, matching the Bard's frown, "as long as he can understand her." "Deln, what is this?" Morwendor offered the now empty goblet to him, and he took it, pressed a finger on the inside and sniffed, then licked the tip of his finger, all the while bright, fiery eyes stared at him. "Urgh, the sweet death, fruit of the devil, I haven't drunk this since before I came of age!" he exclaimed, sitting back, then stared at Morwendor in wonder. "And you drank all of it?!" "Mm," she nodded absently, unconcerned as she nibbled a block of cheese, "I like it. Good to eat." "Drink," he corrected, grimacing. "What, they gave her peach wine?" Balron asked, his attention still caught on the odd pair. "That's quite an offering Lady Hunter, you should be proud." "What is proud?" "Er, hm, never mind." Not being one for words, Balron returned to his meal with renewed vigor. "Hm." Concerned for the woman huddling up next to him, Deln let her lean against him, still nibbling her bit of cheese. "Room move slow, Deln. Feels strange, here," she whispered, pointing to her temple. Motioning to Melnin, across the room, his apprentice scrambled up from his meal, and hurried over to the table. "Ask the Prince and Princess to prepare themselves for their performance. Have the others bring their harps in. I'll be conducting as soon as they're ready." Nodding at his Master, Melnin ventured further up the tables to where the royal family sat, and started speaking in a low voice with Princess Fohnrir. Deln watched both twins nod at his apprentice, and gently pushed Morwendor back to sit up on her own. "Drink some water," he instructed, moving his cup closer to her, and stood up. "I have to do something, but I'll be back very quickly, understand?" Morwendor nodded, focusing hard on the cup placed in front of her. Too intent on the perfection of the twins' performance, Deln couldn't hear the beauty of the melody Melnin had composed, and after their tribute to their father, he barely noticed the applause ringing out through the halls. As soon as the bows to his King, the King's children and the audience were done, he was back at the table, and the first thing he made sure of was that Morwendor had drunk all the water in her cup. "What is so amusing?" he asked, frowning at Balron again when their eyes met. The Knight stifled a laugh, smothering it with a cough, but his steely blue eyes were twinkling in a mischievous way, making Deln's stomach drop in a moment of dread. "Nothing, Master Minstrel, nothing at all. Wonderful performance, by the way," he added hastily before helping his wife to her feet. "Deln?" "Yes?" Morwendor stared at him from where she sat. She'd crossed her legs on the chair, a difficult feat in the dress she wore. "I don't like this." She handed him another goblet, and Deln realised why the Knight was chuckling. He'd given her a full mug of mead, only it was of course, now empty. "Why?" "Knight give, say offering," she replied, not realising he wasn't speaking to her. Balron shrugged. "I thought perhaps Lady Morwendor would like mead more than peach wine. You don't like it, after all, Master Minstrel," he said, unable to hold back his smirk. "You're a fiend, Balron," Deln seethed, uncaring that he was addressing a superior. Leaning closer to the swaying girl, he whispered in her ear. "Can you stand?" Announcing their retirement from the party, Balron and Beth excused themselves, weaving a path through the crowd of people getting up to dance. Morwendor pulled back immediately, and it was only the scent of strangers that stopped her from giving her golden-haired man a sharp bite. "Yes." Deln noted the fierce tone, and realised he'd only just avoided another nip. In that same moment, he realised he'd have to use charm to encourage her to leave with him. "Let me bring you back to your rooms," he muttered, using the most luring tone he could muster, and pressed a small kiss on her earlobe, tracing a thumb gently over her bottom lip. "Come with me." Wide copper eyes stared at him, and Morwendor nodded, unfolding her legs to swing over the seat of her chair. As soon as she was standing, he had one arm around her waist, and giving the King a polite nod, he pulled her swiftly from the halls. Those not dancing watched them leave; the tall, pale Bard and the mysterious new lady of the court. As soon as they were clear of an audience, Deln stopped, and wrapping his other arm under her knees, swept Morwendor off her feet. Carrying her through the castle corridors, the small brunette seemed content to lay her head against his chest, and he noted again how warm she was. Even with her wounds completely healed, she continued to run that incessant fever, and he wondered if it would ever leave her. Reaching her rooms, he pushed on the door, and carried her inside. "Still feel strange, Deln," Morwendor murmured, letting him carry her to her bed. He was grateful the lamps in her rooms had been left lit. Dim orange light bounced off of stone walls, turning her pale complexion as copper as her eyes, and the warmth of her skin felt more natural. She let her fingertips linger on his shirt sleeves, enjoying the feel of cotton on her hands, and brushed down his arms as he gently laid her down onto the covers. "It's not forever," he reassured softly, smiling at her dazed expression, "but if you close your eyes, you won't see the room move any more, and when you wake up you will feel better." She let out another quiet hum, disinclined to believe him, but when she closed her eyes, she found he was right, the room did stop moving. Her hands were still on his arms, and she gripped a little tighter, pulling him down to her level. "Stay with me," she murmured, her warm breath tickling his ear. Deln's shaky exhalation told her all that she needed to know, even in her confused state. He wanted her; he was all but desperate for her, and had been for a while. "Morwendor, you need to go to sleep," he replied softly, the madman inside him screaming otherwise. "Do you want me to sing you to sleep?" He didn't wait for her to answer, and taking a seat on the side of her bed, began softly singing the same lullaby he'd hummed for her the first night he'd watched over her. Determined to ignore the evil voice inside his mind, he watched as Morwendor got comfortable, and started breathing deeply and evenly. "Deln?" He broke song when sleepy orange eyes peered up at him through long, dark lashes. He could lose himself forever in that molten copper gaze, a fact that wasn't lost on him. "Yes?" "Song make happy. I like Deln song best..." Whatever Morwendor continued to say, he had no idea; the girl's words had reduced to a sweet, soft chirping warble, and he thought perhaps it should have bothered or confused him, but he found himself smiling down at her instead, charmed by her nature. "I should go to bed," he whispered, and she opened her eyes again, blinking at him slowly as she tried to make sense of what he'd said. "Yes, bed." Morwendor opened her arms, but, holding his breath, Deln moved further back, virtually trembling with a demanding want he didn't dare recognise. "No, I'll go to my rooms, to sleep." "Deln, stay," she pouted, pressing a hand on his arm again. "Stay, mate, no, make love with me." "Aha! Ah, I can't, Morwendor, you're drunk, it wouldn't be right." He didn't need to pat his vest again to know the other reason. "Go to sleep," he whispered quietly, gritting his teeth and pulling the bed covers up over her shoulders. "Why?" The question was softly spoken; Morwendor was already falling asleep, and he stood back, admiring her troubled features. Her eyes were closed, a small fist closed above the pillows next to her; she was well on her way to dreams. He walked quietly away, but he found his hand stopped before it found the door knob. She really did look so sweet. He felt humbled by the effort she'd gone to, as though she'd transformed once again, this time from wild woman to sweet angel. Her normally matted mass of dark hair had been brushed and shined so that each curl bounced around her face, and it now lay fanned out across her pillows. Delicate, manicured hands clutched the sheet closer to her, and he instinctively reached out to her, wanting to touch that soft, supple skin again, just to be sure it was no illusion. Before reason could catch him, he was back at her side, curling a wayward lock of hair behind her ear. She trilled quietly, frowning in her sleep, and he bent down, entranced by her rose lips, pressing his own against hers. He knew it was wrong to take advantage of her, even if she'd asked for it. He couldn't imagine another man hesitating to oblige her in her inebriated state, but she was so precious to him, and yet when she clutched warm hands behind his neck and pulled him closer, he could do nothing to stop himself from giving into his need for her. The room was dark, the lamps burnt out. Morwendor's dizzy eyes settled on the golden angel above her, his lips and exploring tongue grounding her, keeping her where she was. Teeth grazed gently over her lips and she arched up into him, sucking and lapping tentatively at the tongue offering itself to her. She was silent, daring not to even let her breathing break through over the rustling of clothes and sheets for fear that the sweet dream would crumble at any moment. Deln felt as though he was watching a silent scene, unable to do anything but watch and feel as soft hands helped him remove his shirt and her dress. Naked, her flesh called to him with its heat, her quiet panting the only thing telling him she was awake. Lying over her, covering her with his own body, he touched her, still disbelieving her presence. This sensual creature, arching up to meet his fingertips, relishing his touch as he ran his fingers over her heated skin. He memorised every inch of her, as though mapping an erotic picture with touch alone. She stayed as still as she could, compliant to his searching fingertips sending sparks of electricity under her skin to her core, finding areas that made her shiver with want; behind her ears, along her throat, down to her navel, under her thighs, sending desire through her in waves. He relished that familiar warmth of her, let her body heat his own. Giving in to his passionate kiss again, she felt his want grow, and wrapped her arms around his back, pulling him closer still. Spreading her legs for him, her mind buzzed with anticipation. She cried out when he entered her, the only sound she made, and it was truly music to his ears, the raw need in her tone matching his own desire. He pushed further into that warmth and tightness, feeling her whole body clutch to him as though fusing to him. "I love you," he whispered, tickling her ear with his warm breath. "Morwendor. More than life, I cannot exist without you. Will you stay by my side? Will you be my wife?" It was too dark to see; he was working by touch alone, but that was all he needed. He knew without even really knowing, every inch of skin under him. She was staring up at him; he could feel the heat of her fiery copper eyes peering into his soul. The ring was still in his vest, he hadn't taken it out, but he was too overwhelmed by the hot body accommodating him to care. "Yes." Softer than a whisper, and more heartbreaking than prayer, it was enough to shatter his heart to dust and put it back together again. Deln buried his face in her neck, tears prickling in the corners of his eyes. Never in his life had he been so touched, so moved by a single word. He couldn't have let her go now, anyway, not even if she'd refused him.