Chapter Text
Jyn can see him in the gardens with the fencing instructor, Cassian dressed in full fencing whites, his foil at his side. She wonders if there’s a photographer nearby to capture the image for the papers but maybe she’s just missed the press. Her finger is still pressed into the crease of the book where she had been reading just before she looked outdoors and noticed the action below, but now the book just taps against her leg as her fingers find their way to the glass of the window, small circles being traced in the morning condensation.
He’s a natural, or looks like one at least. She’s learned some self defense herself, mostly just to know since she will never not have security around her, but never swordplay. But it interests her--at least the aesthetic of it does. And so Jyn watches Cassian move in the gray morning, the white flashes of his body stark against the green hedges just behind him. He’s fluid in his movements, his trim body gliding forward and snapping to attack. She doesn’t know how long she watches him but thinks too long when he finally stops and begins to take off his shirt to use the fabric to wipe his brow. The book falls from her hand and Stormy barks behind her.
“Stop!” she chides her dog, but it’s more out of embarrassment for herself than anything. Gathering her book and Stormy into her arms, Jyn makes her way back to her room. But when her feet hit the first landing, the oak doors in the foyer below open and Cassian steps in, the instructor behind him.
“Princess!” the instructor says, bowing deeply. Cassian locks eyes with her and only says her name once, his gaze never leaving her, though his hands tighten nervously around the shirt in his hand.
With a nod from Cassian, the instructor is on his way, and Jyn remains somehow rooted in her spot as though she is waiting--waiting for him.
“Fencing?” she says at last, and Stormy wriggles out of her arms then and bounces over to Cassian, hopping and panting around his new master’s legs until he gets an ear rub, which Cassian offers with a smile.
“It was suggested to me that I pick up a pursuit befitting a prince,” he says wryly.
“Kay?” she asks archly.
Cassian smiles. “Who else?” He begins to climb the stairs, and when she can almost feel his nearness, she begins her way up again, Cassian close behind.
“Truth be told,” he continues, “part of me always liked playing at pirates.”
“Pirates?” she asks, fingers brushing against the smooth wooden bannister. She stops and turns and sees him flicking back a tendril of sweaty hair that’s fallen onto his forehead. “I pegged you more as someone who’d rather be a swashbuckling sailor--a captain in His Majesty’s fleet.”
“Perhaps that is true,” he says, “but pirates was more fun as a game.”
They’re at their rooms before she realizes it and he bows politely and says, “I wanted to apologize, Jyn.”
“For what?”
He motions to himself. “For being half dressed when you saw me. But you are my wife after all, and in front of the instructor, it might seem . . . odd if I hurried to put the shirt back on.”
“Oh,” she squeaks, face growing hot. “It’s no bother.”
“Well,” he says, nodding, and goes into his room where she listens to the door shut with a quiet click. Stormy whines at her feet and looks up at her expectantly.
“Don’t start,” she says, but then, as she shuts the door to her own room and leans against it, hand pressed against her heart, she’s beginning to suspect that things may have already started long before she realized that it had.