Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He’d never written anyone a letter.

Therion could write, of course. Not as well as more educated folk perhaps, but Cyrus had helped him polish his reading and penmanship during their group’s travels together.

Formal public schooling was not a widespread thing in Orsterra. Many people read and wrote well enough to get by and knew basic arithmetic. That was about it, unless they were upper middle class or better. Or lucky enough to have a learned friend, in Therion’s case.

Regardless of any of that he found himself stumped as he sat on a crate in the stockroom of the Colzione Provisioners with a barrel as a desk.

The work uniform was a bit itchy. Not as worn in and comfortable as the clothes he'd been wearing before. It was different and stiffer material. Tressa's mother said he'd not only get used to it, but it would soften up with a few washes. Nothing new is ever perfect, she'd said. Wise words in more way than one.

He'd been reluctant to take up Tressa's offer of a job there at first. But he'd already put thieving behind him so he needed an income. Though his training period would probably require him to be stationary instead of traveling for the next several months, he'd been assured he could help with middleman's work and do plenty of adventuring on the side once he had a better grasp of the business.

And who was he to refuse his younger friend's kindness? Bicker they might, but the two of them did respect each other by now. After everything they and the others had been through together, it was impossible not to. He wouldn't say it out loud...but he thought of her as family. All of them were.

Anyway, he'd taken the job in the end. The outfit he'd been gifted for work was simple- a tweed vest and pants, both in shades of brown to match the leather cap. A simple collared shirt(white) and sturdy boots. The boots were fine, easy to wear in. The rest of the clothing was more fit to his body than his old duds.

He groaned and tapped his foot. How was he supposed to start this letter, anyway? Starting out with dear Cordelia felt too familiar.

Cordelia...wasn't a close friend. He would call them friends, yes, but only just. And he'd not spoken to or heard from her since he last left Bolderfall seven months ago. She would have turned eighteen by now. Just recently, even, if his memory of her birth season served.

...Dear Cordelia certainly was too familiar then. How ought he write his greeting, then? Again, he'd never written much beyond his name, much less a letter.

He still wasn't even sure why he felt compelled to do this. All things considered, Cordelia and Therion had not started off on the right foot. Or even the left. Their meeting was more of an inelegant stumble and butting of heads, in a way.

But despite her initial dishonesty with him Cordelia was far from a dishonest or irredeemable person. Now that he knew the real value of the dragonstones Therion understood even further why Cordelia had stooped below what were obvious rigorous personal morals to get his help. What he had mistaken for pity at first had been mere discontent with her own actions. Cordelia was not a manipulator by nature, Heathcote had revealed. She had gone into the plan at Heathcote's own urging, in fact, and been unsure about it the entire time. The closing of the mansion, the cutting off from society- it was initially to protect her own heart(and body) from further betrayal. But she didn't like any of it.

That was more evident now as Tressa talked about traveling merchants spreading rumors of the Ravus estate suddenly reopening to the public. Taking on new staff, reaching out to create public works projects. All the idea of the Lady of the House, according to one fellow. Not sure what changed, but one can't complain about a good turnaround now, can he?

That had spurred him in the end, Therion guessed. Curiosity about what was going on.

“Oh, forget it.” He muttered.

To the Lady Cordelia Ravus,

He began with that. Good, he'd started if nothing else. A little more foot tapping, and then a little more clumsy scribbling.

This is Therion.

Hm.

I'm writing because-

“What are you doing?”

Tressa's voice rang in the dim stockroom as a curious chirp. She was wiping dusty hands off on her waist apron. Therion hadn't even heard her come in. Guess I really am distracted, he lamented internally.

“Nothing.” Was his grunted reply. He kept scribbling. Tressa hummed and clomped over in her work boots to look over his shoulder. Therion ignored her.

“Oh, a letter!” She said after moment, “To that Cordelia girl? She was sweet.”

Therion hummed.

“Why are you writing her? I like her fine, but I thought you'd wanna forget her after what happened.”

Why would I want that? His mind chimed. He might not have liked her at first- and he couldn't say he was deeply attached to her now either.

But...

“I'm grateful to her.” He commented. Paused to put his pencil down. “Despite anything that happened initially, I don't think she wanted to hurt anybody. And...”

I have faith in you.

The words rang in his head as clear as day.

Not one person had ever said something like him to that before her. It still shook Therion to think about. He'd thought it a bit naive at the time, but her eyes had been so confident and her tone so clear. Now rather than Naive, he found it brave.

“...If nothing else,” He finally added, “She said some things that...helped me work through some old wounds.”

That conversation had been just the two of them. He wasn't sure how he felt about relaying the contents of it to Tressa. She was trustworthy, sure- but she was also a terrible tease. Like an annoying little sister.

And even with just this her smile grew mischievous, like she'd been handed a water balloon to throw at someone. Therion rolled his eyes. “Anyway, did you need something?” He asked gruffly.

“I was just bringing a couple of boxes in.” Tressa said, “But we're closing for lunch in a few minutes, so don't be late to eat. Tell your lady hello!”

“She's not my lady,” Therion snorted as Tressa giggled her way out of the room. Annoying little sister indeed.

But he could smell fragrant, rich soup smells wafting into the stockroom now. Mrs. Colzione was cooking. He moved to finish his missive so he could join the family for their meal. If he sent it out today, it would arrive at Bolderfall within the next week.

To The Lady Cordelia Ravus,

This is Therion.

I suppose my writing you must be pretty surprising. I can't say I have much to tell you, myself. But I suppose it doesn't hurt anything, does it?

I've taken up a trainee's position at my friend Tressa's family shop, if you're curious at all. I'll be traveling again as soon as the job will allow me.

I've heard you've reopened the estate. That's good. Make sure you're getting enough fresh air.

You can send a letter back if you want.

Cordially,

Therion

Chapter Text

The letter came in a business envelope, and so Cordelia was hardly expecting the lined paper and short pencil note within.

But when she read Therion's name, she felt herself break into a smile. Despite any awkwardness the development of their shaky friendship may have entailed, she did care for his well being a great deal. And it had been quite some time since he left. The news of his working with his friend was also quite welcome. It had her bouncing around the house as she made arrangements and inspected new staff that day.

“You certainly have been put in a high mood.” Commented Heathcote to her in amusement as they finished their morning rounds. It was then that Cordelia handed Therion's note to him.

“It's from-”

“Therion.” Heathcote finished, pleasantly surprised, “I wondered if we would ever hear from him. I'm pleased that we have.”

“I'll have to write a reply as soon as I'm able.” Cordelia bubbled, “I'm so relieved to know he's well.”

A small smile found its way to Heathcote's features. “Yes, you shall.”

Dear Mr. Therion,

She began, not really considering or overthinking her opening the way he had. It had been some time since they'd spoken. She did have quite a bit she wanted to relay. She practically had an essay outlined, she mused, curled up in her study on a window-seat.

I hope my reply finds you as well as your note has found me.

I was very happy to hear from you, so thank you for sending a letter to me. I hope the Colziones are well too. Tressa told me a bit about herself, at one point. She's a very sweet girl, isn't she? Our mutual friend Noa seems quite smitten with her, I think. She was agog about her journal the last time we met.

Leaving that aside, I've indeed reopened my family's estate to the public. Only certain wings are accessible to it right now, and the servants' and my personal wing will remain so. We all need our privacy. But the main hall and rooms have been aired out, cleaned and dusted...the entirety. We've also hired new staff. I do a morning inspection every day and Heathcote himself assisted me in checking backgrounds.

Bolderfall is not in a good state. I've let myself be sequestered so long that I fear I've greatly neglected my duty as the area's residing lady. I feel nothing but shame over this. But the past is the past,and the future is yet to be written. I can still undo what my negligence has caused, and I intend to.

A boy named Kit recently came through our town. He's become a friend quite quickly, and was with our friend Alfyn initially when he came to do wellness checks on new staff at my request.

Alfyn left once his business in town was done, but Kit has stayed behind for the time being. He's a delightful man, and it is a new experience having made a friend my own age that is not Noa.

But I've digressed again, haven't I? Kit heard my plans for quite a few public projects- from repairs to many homes in the lower districts to efforts to bring more stability of employment to the area. He's agreed to mock up some murals for a beautification project with the help of some volunteers. It was his own idea, in fact! He seems a bit jumpy, that boy, but very kind. He insisted he stay at the inn, but he's been by often to keep me updated.

I've also been in touch with Primrose Azelheart since her reopening of her own estate, as I assume you have. You two are close friends, are you not? She's making plans to open it as a shelter for abused and battered women and children. I think it's a wonderful idea. I've taken to helping hire some people from town who are looking to relocate and find work for her. Alfyn actually took a letter in her direction for me. Your friends are all wonderful people.

She stopped to stretch her hand. She had written so much, so very quickly. She ought to rest and gather her thoughts a little more.

...Primrose, yes. The beautiful dancer that Therion had often been trailed by. She, Therion and the apothecary Alfyn were all close in age, it seemed, so it made sense that they had formed what appeared to be a very close knit friendship.

Primrose's story was one that made Cordelia ache down to the bottom of her heart. The loss, the trauma, and the grief she had yet to find a way past. It was something Alfyn had talked about with her at length. He had seemed to have a great many thoughts about Primrose.

About many things, really. Though he had stayed only a fortnight, Alfyn had quickly become very endeared to Cordelia, and she had wrung out of him a promise to write her every once in a while. But only if I can visit ya too, milady! He had laughed in return.

A knock at her door. “Please come in,” Cordelia called. Soft though her voice was, it rang clear in the silence of her study. And she had no fear- the security currently employed were very trustworthy. And she was in her bedclothes, but a calf length nightgown and a warm robe had no sense of shame in them, and it was late.

Kit peeked inside. “Hello, ma'am.” He said, “I'm sorry to show up so late at night.”

“Don't fret yourself over it,” Cordelia said kindly, and moved to one of the armchairs, motioning for her friend to follow. “What brings you here?”

“Oh, just a bout of insomnia, actually.” Kit said, “I have it, every now and again. Ever since...”

He shifted uncomfortably. Ever since Galdera. The implication hung in the air like a thick and bitter sludge. Cordelia frowned softly.

“Well, you are always welcome here when you need company, Kit. Consider this a home for you.” she offered.

Kit looked deeply grateful. “Sir Heathcote said he'd be up with some hot tea soon. May I ask what you're writing there?”

“A letter to Mister Therion.” Cordelia answered easily. There was no reason to hide it, after all. Kit nodded.

“I see. I trust he's well?” He asked. Therion had been one of those responsible for saving not only Kit, but a great many more through that.

“Yes. He's working with the Colziones now.”

Heathcote arrived with some tea. Cordelia continued writing while she and Kit conversed about his plans for once he left Bolderfall at the end of the month. He'd be heading to Atlasdam to help restore some old paintings that Cyrus Albright had received.It would pay well, and be a unique chance to explore a unique city. He seemed excited.

And then he fell asleep, quite suddenly. He was leaned into the armrest of his chair and gone in a moment. Cordelia was deeply amused, but allowed him to rest and covered him with an afghan before finishing her letter.

...And Kit has drifted off, oh dear. I ought to cover him up and see myself off to bed as well. I'll ask Heathcote to see to him.

I'm sorry to have rambled on so long, but it has been quite busy here! Please, though, do not ever hesitate to write me again. As I said before, I was very happy to hear from you.

Wishing you well,

Cordelia Ravus

Chapter Text

To Mister Therion,

I'm glad my last letter found you well, and even more happy to hear that the Colziones are sending you to do some business for them in Noblecourt. You were hoping to do some more traveling soon, weren't you? That's wonderful. I'll continue to send my letters to the Colziones. Please write when you're able, if you've any inclination.

I haven't much news this time. Kit left some time ago as you know, but his murals have become quite popular as a conversation piece among the townsfolk. He seems a bit lost still, but if he ever desires it, I think he has a promising future in the art world.

Take care in your journeys, as always. Knowing your track record, I'm sure you'll run into trouble, as we all do. But stay safe.

Therion stretched. It was the last letter he had received before departing for Noblecourt. He had yet to write any since leaving. There wasn't much cause to while on the road, and he'd only arrived within the last three days anyway. Not much to say, and not much time to say it yet.

His purpose was to set up a supply agreement with Primrose. Her shelterhouse was in the works, and the Colzione's expanding business allowed that they had the stock and ability to help supply bedding and cooking equipment to the manor. Therion was here to hash out the details and take down orders and other such things. He'd send the preliminary notes to the Colziones, wait for an answer, then go back with the final decisions to help prepare the delivery.

He and Cordelia had been exchanging letters for about a season now. It was the start of winter in Noblecourt and frost crept further across the windows every morning he had been there. A dusting of snow was on the ground outside in the garden today as he lounged in a parlor with a cup of coffee.

“What's that you're reading?”

Interrupted. It was only Primrose, though, wandering in with her own morning drink. He nodded at her.

She looked very different now than the sort of image she put forth in her dancing clothes. Still an ethereal sort of beauty, though. Therion couldn't deny she was enchanting in both personality and looks. But the light and showy nature of her dancer's garb was very different from the dress she wore now.

It was tailored to her measurements of course, but not too gaudy or formal. A very businesslike attire as far as a noblewoman's garb was concerned. The sleeves ended in neat cuffs at her elbow and the bodice was lacking in any lace or extra finery beyond the gold cord and fringing. The whole piece was various warm shades of red, none too bright or vivid to glare on the eyes. She wore her hair down now, a loose clip on the back to keep it neat. Therion supposed they had both changed since their journeys.

“Letter from Cordelia.” He admitted. No reason to lie about it. Primrose nodded.

“I'd heard you had taken up a correspondence. It's nice you've become friends.” She remarked and sat down across from him. “Alfyn's on the road too much right now for me to get many replies to him, but he sends letters quite often.”

“Hm,” Therion hummed. He received one from their apothecary friend every so often as well. The three of them and Ophilia had formed a close quartet, honestly. Because they were all so close in age, originally, but in the end they all just clicked. Like a gaggle of schoolchildren, in a way.

“He's a chatty one.” Therion offered, “But he seems to be doing well for himself. Making friends left and right as always.”

“I worry he's still too trusting.” Primrose admitted. Her smile was wry. “But his giving nature is part of what makes him suited to his work....and yes, he does have quite a lot to say.”

Her smile turned fond. Therion eyed it quietly but didn't say a word. He wasn't a tease on Tressa's level, but Primrose and Alfyn were close in a way that he and Primrose and he and Alfyn were not. They complimented each other well as people, he thought. But he wouldn't jump to any conclusion just yet.

“Cordelia writes a lot too, most of the time.” He offered. Neither of them were greatly talkative people, but as friends they ought to make an effort to catch up properly. It had been over a year since they'd seen each other in person, after all.

“She comes off as quiet in person, but....” he looked at the letter, “This is one of the shortest letters I've gotten from her. I think she probably rushed it into the mail before my trip.”

He shook his head. “I don't mind it, but it's definitely different from my first impression of her.”

“I think a lot of her is different from that impression.” Primrose said in amusement. Therion snorted, but he knew she was right. His first glance at her had been biased and colored by the unfortunate circumstances.

In all actuality she was...a soft person. Like a small flower. He wasn't one to be poetic, but sometimes metaphor and analogy made the best descriptors. She loved to talk about everything from what was blooming in the gardens to the fabrics being considered for the blankets they were donating to the children's home opening up in town. Even mundane things were fascinating to Cordelia. Nothing was mediocre in her eyes, and everything had a story to tell.

As silly as it was, it was also refreshing. Therion knew he was a bit tired and jaded. Less than before, but still world weary. Cordelia saw everything with a fresh and youthful gaze, and receiving her perspective on life was...it was nice. He enjoyed it.

“I hear she's been doing some work with you as well.” He remarked to Primrose as they continued their conversation. Primrose nodded.

“Yes. She's a very capable young woman, I must say...every employee she's sent my way has been a wonderful worker. Quick learners with trustworthy dispositions. I daresay that Heathcote has some hand in it, but Cordelia makes the first and final decisions, and she hasn't steered me wrong with any of them.”

“She's smart.” Therion remarked.

“She is. Expected of a young noblewoman, especially one already the lady of her estate, but Cordelia is exceedingly sharp even for that. It's different from the slyness of other nobles I've met, though. She has a tender heart.”

Therion nodded and hummed in agreement, and tucked the letter away. They had work to do, after all, and they couldn't chat over coffee all morning or nothing would get done.

It was another day and a half before he had time or energy to write her back again, but once he did Primrose procured some paper and a new fangled ball point pen for him to use. Lots of fascinating new trinkets to be had these days, she'd said. He sat in a sun-room by the garden with a clipboard to write.

Cordelia,

If this reply is late, I'm sorry. It's been busy since I got to Noblecourt, and there wasn't much to write about on the way up. Not even any of the trouble you seem to think I'm prone to getting into.

Not that she was wrong, of course, but even Therion had a sense of humor. He continued.

If you'd like to know, Primrose is quite well. Still grieving her father. But I think she probably always will, in a way. But she's doing better overall. A little less distant than she was when I first met her, anyway.

Her estate's huge. Your place is big of course, but this place is bigger. Noblecourt is full of manses and such, so I'm not surprised.

She speaks well of you, just so you know. I don't disagree with anything she's said about you being quite sharp, either.

He paused.

Writing out what was practically a compliment was a bit strange. But he didn't feel a want to scratch it out. He wasn't flattering her by any means...it should be fine.

Most of the rooms here are barren and empty right now. The staff is working to clean out and remodel most of the mansion into living quarters and work rooms- everything the shelterhouse will need to run. The Colziones are going to be responsible for draperies, bedding and cooking equipment. I'll be sending the initial order estimates to the family and then returning to help stock and prepare them for delivery after they write me back again. After that most of the solstice season will be spent here in Noblecourt with Tressa, helping outfit and deliver everything.

He breathed out.

I think you were planning to attend Primrose's gathering or...ball or whatever for the Flame's Festival in December. I'll likely see you around that time, though I won't be at the invitational itself. Noblecourt is quite cold compared to Bolderfall. Bring a scarf.

-Therion

The Flame's Festival was the most distinctive Aelfrician holiday of the winter season. It was the week surrounding the winter solstice every year. The final day was usually a quiet day of family prayer and thanksgiving, a holiday for every worker to rest and spend time with loved ones. The purpose of the entire festival was a celebration of the things that brought light to everyone's life. Food, drink, and family for the most part. It was a five day party, essentially. The first day reserved for religious services, the last for family gatherings- usually with gifts between parents, children and siblings. And often lovers as well.

Therion and Tressa would be in Noblecourt working for its duration. Primrose would be holding a mid-festival gathering for several nobles and potential business partners to talk shop and make merry together. Sort of a way to get the name of her venture out there, she said, and an opportunity to connect with new friends and old ones.

Therion was thankful he wouldn't have to attend that. But he wasn't opposed to spending some time in its vicinity to say hello to Cordelia and Heathcote either. He sighed, and made the rest of the notes he needed to get the letter ready for mailing.

There was already a reply waiting for him by the time he returned to Rippletide, naturally. Cordelia was always prompt.

Tressa was waving it at him as he came through the door.

“Your little lady sent you another letter, good sir!” She singsonged.

“She's not my little lady,” Therion replied curtly, and took the letter from her in a huff.

Tressa's snickering was cut abruptly short, though, when Therion replied with “How recently have you heard from your little lady?”

“Noa's not-!” Tressa sputtered immediately, pink up to her ears, “Noa is not my lady! And she...wrote last week, but that's not the point!”

“Who said anything about Noa?” Therion noted smugly. Tressa yowled at him like an angry cat, and he chuckled as he fled to his room.

Any teasing he might do was mostly to curb or retaliate to Tressa's, though. In all honesty it was endearing to see her so enamored with something other than her work or travel. And boy was she enamored. She had been from nearly the beginning, as far as Therion could tell. He didn't think Tressa would have given the journal to just anyone. She was a kind, generous girl- but not that kind and generous. She felt a connection to Noa, that much was certain. And now, well, she was smitten to hell.

...But according to Cordelia, so was Noa. So there wasn't any harm in it. They'd be fine.

He set his bag down and took off his boots. In his months with the Colzione family, his uniform had indeed become more comfortable. The tweed felt softer and the shirt less stiff. Comfort comes with work and patience, Mrs. Colzione had told him. She hadn't meant just the clothes, but she was right nonetheless. She was a sensible woman, and her husband was a jolly man. Kind, honest people. He could see where Tressa got it all. He liked them.

He opened the letter. It was multiple pages, but also the only one he had received in his absence, so that made sense.

Dear Mister Therion,

It began the same as always.

Am I really sharp? That's very flattering of you both to think, though I'm not so sure myself.

I'm glad to hear things are going well for both Primrose and yourself. It's been a flurry of activity here again.

A nasty bout of the flu has been about in Bolderfall. Even I fell ill with it I'm afraid. But of course Alfyn appeared just when he was needed. I think he has a divine sense of where he needs most to be at any given time. He had us all back on our feet within the week.

He had quite a few interesting stories about his travels as well! He visited Cobbleston, and it seems a Sir Erhardt was there to celebrate a birthday with your friend Olberic. Like brothers, that's how Alfyn said they were. But the most exciting thing was the recounting of the spars he had against them both.

Alfyn calls himself a runelord- from my understanding, it's something of a spellblade, and the tricks he's showed me with his runes are very impressive. He'll make a strike, and a searing energy charged with an element will fill the space in its wake. It's amazing, just as much so as the spells your friend Professor Albright has demonstrated for me! I wish I had some talent for magic, but I really don't think I'd be good at it.

Still, that Sirs Erhardt and Olberic can compete against Alfyn with plain swordsmanship is nothing short of incredible. I'd love to see a match between them someday.

It doesn't snow in Bolderfall, as you know, or much of anywhere in the Cliftlands. But the leaves still turn in fall, and now all but the coniferous trees are barren. No flowers or anything. But the pines are still fragrant and beautiful. It may be a different sort of pretty in the mountains here than other places, but I still love our winters. Dry and dull, perhaps, but they're a quiet and pensive sort of season as well.

Of course she would say such a thing. Therion let out a small hmph at it. Yes, that was her fresh perspective. The boring barrenness of a Bolderfall winter could never remain just that to Cordelia Ravus.

Ah, but beyond that, I'm so happy to hear that we might see each other near the Solstice. I'll see if I can arrange to arrive a day early so we might catch up and have tea. I'm sure I'd love to see Tressa as well, and more time with Primrose is always a delight.

Please do take care in the meantime, Mister Therion. I'll be hoping to see you soon!

-Cordelia Ravus

Therion folded the letter. He opened the drawer of his bedside table, then tucked it into the old jewelry box he'd been keeping all of Cordelia's correspondence in. He wasn't sure why he was keeping them all, but it didn't feel right to just throw the letters away either.

He was sore, and tired. He'd walked the entire afternoon. He wouldn't be needed in the shop until morning, so he made to change into bedclothes. There was no need for a reply to Cordelia straight away. But he'd send a short one ahead of their reunion in Noblecourt.

For now, he wanted to sleep.

Chapter Text

As the Solstice and Flame's Festival neared, all eight of the travelers convened in Noblecourt.

Therion was unsurprised that all his friends had arrived to visit. Many of them hadn't much in the way of family to spend the holiday with, so it only made sense to spend it instead with their closest friends.

Alfyn and Cyrus were already arrived when Therion and Tressa came, waiting in the doorway to help them with their luggage.

Cyrus looked about the same as always, though dressed for the weather- the colorful sweater was almost comical, but it suited him. His hair was a touch unkempt as always, a little bit of dark under his eyes from working too much. But overall he retained a slender prettiness that contributed to his very unwitting popularity.

Alfyn had changed a bit. He was the same tall and strong built fellow as always, but seemed less scruffy and unkempt than he used to. His hair was a bit neater, so that you could properly see it was wavy, and his stubble had changed to a fuller beard. Continuing his transitional elixirs, his face had also sharpened. There was still a soft feminine touch to it last time Therion saw him- now he looked rugged. He had changed from his old clothes too. A long green overcoat and a neatly buttoned shirt instead of the vest and loose top from before.

Cyrus was waving at them. Alfyn and Tressa leaped at each other immediately. The apothecary twirled the young merchant in his arms with a hearty laugh and squeezed her again as he set her down.

“Look at you, miss Colzione!” He boomed, “Disposed of that floppy hat, I see! Trying to look a little more professional?”

Tressa patted down some flyaways on top of her head. Her hair was getting a little longer so she always tied it back now, and she'd indeed done away with her old hat and wore her merchant's feather clipped to her ponytail now. She'd also traded her long skirt for leather trousers and an apron- easier to move in. She smiled at Alfyn broadly.

“I can't go around looking like a trainee anymore, now that it's Therion's job.” She jibed. Therion rolled his eyes as he hopped down from the driver's seat of their cart.

Alfyn held out his hand and he and Therion grasped arms tightly. Huggy as the medicine man was, he knew well enough by now that Therion didn't like to be too touchy feely. A handshake was enough.

“Well, we all gotta start our trade somewhere, don't we?” He asked, “Good to see ya, Therion. How are you both?”

“We're managing,” Therion replied, “The Colziones have been very kind.”

“Mom and Pop like you a lot.” Tressa said warmly, “I think if you were younger they'd adopt you.”

“No need for drastic measures.” Therion deadpanned. But hearing it did make a good feeling spread through him. To be thought of like family by somebody was nice, if unfamiliar. He supposed to himself that would make Tressa his little sister, then...the sound of it was pleasant; but he'd never tell her that.

“What about you,” He called toward Cyrus, who was finally approaching, “How's things at the Academy? Still stuffy, I'd guess.”

“By your standards certainly,” Cyrus admitted lightly, “Though with Odette taking up the headmaster's position I daresay that will change.”

Therion hummed.

“Kit's been working there for some time now, restoring and examining some art for us. He and Therese get on quite well.”

“They could both use a friend,” Tressa commented, “That's good.”

Primrose appeared at the door then. “What are you four doing out there? It's frigid. Get your bags and come in. I'll have some of the staff get the horses and cart taken care of.”

Alfyn carried most of the load, naturally. Always eager to help, and he had the most muscle out of the five of them. He was bogged down and still moving normally, chattering away merrily with Tressa and Cyrus at the lead of their group. Primrose took Therion's arm and they brought up the rear.

“When did they arrive?” He asked her.

“Cyrus has only been here since yesterday,” Primrose answered, “Alfyn got here almost a week ago.”

“Probably riding out the cold at your place.” Therion said with a hint of humor.

Once Therion and Tressa had settled their things in their room, the group dispersed to take care of their tasks for the day. The holiday had not quite arrived yet, so there were still preparations and work for everyone to do. Therion and Tressa would be working part of the day for the duration of the festival as well.

It was late in the afternoon as Therion was taking a walk to stretch his legs that H'aanit and Ophilia arrived. He was passing the main doors and caught sight of them on their way up the steps.

Ophilia slipped and tilted forward. Therion hadn't even made it half a step before H'aanit had caught her around the waist with her free arm, though, the other still easily holding both their bags.

The flush in Ophilia's cheeks was too deep to mistake as H'aanit hoisted her against her side and back to her feet. The rest of the way up the steps the hunter kept Ophilia pressed against her to steady her gait.

“Thought someone from Flamesgrace would do a little better on icy steps,” Therion drawled as they arrived. Ophilia looked at him with a halfhearted glare, cheeks still ruddy.

“Oh, hush, you.” She retorted, but she made no move to step away from H'aanit's side.

“Are we the last to arrive?” H'aanit asked. Therion shook his head and turned to walk inside with them.

“Olberic's not here yet.” He answered, “But I heard from Cyrus he'll arrive by tonight with Philip and his mother.”

“I suppose it would make sense he wouldn't want to spend the festival away from anyone he considers family.” Ophilia remarked softly, “He speaks so well of both miss Blake and Philip.”

“Speaking of,” Therion said, “How has H'aanit adjusted to Flamesgrace?”

“'Tis different from S'warkii.” H'aanit replied, “Colder, more open. But the people there have been welcoming, and kind.”

The hunter had moved to Flamesgrace in the summer as her relationship with Ophilia had become more serious. The general consensus among the rest of the group had been it's about time. Ophilia and H'aanit had grown close more quickly than any of the rest of them had, always curled up with each other or chatting away in some corner. That they had fallen into a romance was hardly a surprise. Therion expected an engagement announcement any day.

As the day wore into evening and preparations for dinner began, snow began blowing about heavily, and Olberic arrived with Philip and his mother Blake in a burst of it. As some staff took their things to be settled into rooms, they joined together with everyone for the evening meal.

It was a noisy affair, but not particularly loud. Blake and Philip reintroduced themselves to everyone, of course. The young boy had grown taller, his hair a little shaggier than Therion remembered. And he knew little of Blake, but judging from the way she carried herself and spoke, she was a gentle and quiet woman.

The conversation flowed like cheap mead in an alehouse. Therion kept tabs on the subject but focused mainly on his meal for a while. He'd worked most of the day and he was famished. Philip chattered away about things in Cobbleston- his first spars, his mother's work as a seamstress, Olberic arriving for breakfast on the dot at eight every morning. Blake interjected with comments or corrections occasionally, eyes sparkling with fondness for her child's excitement.

Cyrus, of course, spoke of the academy. Odette's changes to regulations had made the air there much more relaxed. He seemed quite impressed with her work so far, but Therion tuned out of that line when he got into his current research. He turned instead to the conversation Alfyn was having with Ophilia and H'aanit, hearing more about the hunter adjusting to Flamesgrace as her new home. He shared some stories from his recent travels and updates on his friends in Clearbrook.

Of course, the former thief couldn't escape talking himself. He did find himself filling everyone in on his time with the Colziones eventually. His arrival and their warm welcome, adjusting to having a regular schedule for the first time.

“And of course,” Tressa interjected, “He writes a lot of letters to the Lady Ravus.”

“I don't write that many.” Therion deadpanned. He was unsurprised that Tressa brought it up, but the rest of the group wasn't nearly as determined to make a tease of it as she- much to her disappointment.

“I think it's nice,” Alfyn said, “Cordelia's a real sweet girl. She's been nothin' but hospitable every time I've been through the area.”

“Aren't you exchanging letters with Noa Wyndham too, Tressa?” Primrose added, “A bit brazen to be teasing Therion, then.”

Tressa flushed and made to retort, but shut her mouth and settled into a pout instead. “You guys are no fun.”

“Don't sulk, Tressa, it's cute.” Ophilia teased, “You having a little sweetheart, I mean.”

“Sh-she's not-” Tressa stuttered. Her attempt at putting Therion on the spot had completely backfired; he watched with a smug satisfaction. But Tressa's brow was furrowed as they all dispersed for the night.

Therion wasn't heartless, and he knew what was on her mind. She'd become quiet the moment the teasing stopped and hadn't spoken since. Glad as he was that the ribbing hadn't been at him, it didn't sit well that Tressa was feeling so troubled. He fell into step beside her and nudged her side.

“Hey,” He offered.

“Hi,” Tressa muttered back.

“So, about Noa,” Therion started. Tressa opened her mouth, glaring, but he held up his hand.

“About Noa,” He repeated, “You really do like her, don't you? Spill.”

Tressa stopped walking. Her entire body seemed to deflate with the sigh she let loose.

“What am I gonna do, Therion?” She asked pitifully.

Therion leaned against the wall. “Depends, what do you want to do?” He asked, “Not that I'd have any good advice. I'm as clueless on 'matters of the heart' as Cyrus, according to Prim.”

“Noa's so full of life,” Tressa said, “And she's so cute. Just reading her letters gets my heart racing. It makes me want to run right to her and just hold her and listen to her all day.”

Lovesick like a puppy, Therion mused. He considered for a moment before speaking again.

“If you feel that strongly about her,” He offered, “Why not just go visit her? It might help.”

Tressa looked at him like he'd grown a second head.

“I'm serious.” He pressed, “After we're done here in Noblecourt, just go see her for the new year. I'll let your parents know. I bet she'll be happy to see you.”

“You think?” Tressa asked, “I don't know...”

Therion shrugged. “Just give it some thought. It'd be better than sitting on your hands about it, anyway.”

He left Tressa to her devices then. Sleep was calling him, and he hadn't anything more useful to say.

Cordelia arrived on the first day of the festival.

Therion was wrapping up the last of his notes for the day when he saw her and Heathcote in the foyer. A staff member was just taking their cloaks away.

He moved to greet them, looking them over as he approached. Heathcote had hardly changed at all, but Cordelia seemed...different.

Therion realized quickly that it was because she had matured. Her face, mostly- it was still soft, but the cute roundness of before had angled out somewhat. Her posture seemed straighter and more confident as well. Cheeks flushed from the cold, she was blowing lightly on her fingers when Heathcote noticed Therion approaching.

“Ah, Therion!” He greeted cheerfully, “How pleasant to see you so soon after arriving.”

“Heathcote,” Therion nodded as he came to a halt. Cordelia had looked up and fixed him with a wide smile.

“You both look well,” Therion offered.

“We are, thank you.” Cordelia said. Her voice was clear like a bell. “We were afraid the all the snow would make us late, but it seems our luck held out and we still arrived on schedule.”

“That's good.” Therion said.

There was a brief silence during which Cordelia and Heathcote seemed to be studying him very carefully. He quickly grew uncomfortable.

“What's wrong,” He asked, “You're both staring.”

Cordelia jumped a little and the flush on her cheeks- which had abated before- returned fiercely. Heathcote merely chuckled.

“You simply paint a very different picture cleaned up and wearing a merchant's attire.” he quipped.

Oh. Therion had gotten used to it by now, so he sometimes forgot how...grungy his old clothes had been. Dusty, worn, and ragged. Cyrus had commented on his unruly hair often as well. And even now it was untamed but at least neater than before- the Colziones made sure he kept himself presentable at all times. He sighed.

“Yeah, the bosses are a stickler for that kind of thing.” it was a half joke. He didn't enjoy spending a lot of time on personal grooming, but now that it was habit it wasn't so bad.

“You look handsome, though.” Cordelia offered- completely sincere as always. Therion felt himself fidget. At least she didn't think it looked bad, not that it would matter.

They were joined quickly by Tressa, who had come to find Therion, and Primrose, there to greet her guests. Cordelia greeted them both warmly, though Tressa's impulsive hug had left her a bit surprised.

Things became a flurry again after that, as Cordelia and Heathcote were hurried along to their guest quarters, chatting with Primrose, and Tressa pulled Therion away for some last minute work that had cropped up.

You look handsome . The words echoed in his head, though he wasn't sure why. It was certainly not a compliment he'd received often, though. And even less from a well to do person like Cordelia. They were friends, but even so there was no reason for her to feel a need to flatter him.

Alfyn dragged him out to the alehouse with Olberic and Cyrus that evening. Therion certainly didn't mind, but it was late and dark by the time they all stumbled back and bid each other goodnight.

Therion overslept the next morning and missed breakfast, then worked through lunch and had hardly eaten by the time he finished for the day. He was tired, hungry and feeling irritable, so he took an early dinner from the kitchens courtesy of some kind staff and went outside to eat in the garden. The cold wasn't always pleasant, but bundled up alone out here, no one would bother him.

He had thought so, anyway. He heard footsteps crunch across the snow, and when he looked up he saw Cordelia wandering through with a book clutched to her chest. She was shivering in her gloves and coat, but seemed enamored with the scenery around her all the same. Just like her.

She paused not far from him. Her shoulders hunched as a petite little sneeze jolted her shoulders. Therion blinked, surprised at the strange cuteness of the noise. He had only ever heard small animals sneeze in such a tiny way.

He spoke up before he was aware of himself. “Didn't I say you should bring a scarf?”

Cordelia started and turned toward him. “Oh! Mister Therion.” She said in surprise.

Therion balled up the paper his meal had been wrapped in and pocketed it as he stood. “It's colder here than in Bolderfall. You'll get sick if you don't stay warm enough.”

“I'm simply taking a walk.” Cordelia said mildly, “I won't get sick from that.”

She immediately sniffled and coughed. Therion fixed her with a look, but he could tell she wouldn't be herded inside easily. He removed his own scarf and began securing it around her neck with a sigh.

“You don't have to-” Cordelia started.

“Quiet,” Therion groused, “it'll look bad if you miss the gala because you stayed out too long in the snow and fell ill, you know.”

Cordelia's face fell into a slight sulk. “Don't you scold me,” She huffed lightly, “I've rarely been around snow. There's nothing wrong with wanting to take in the sights.”

“The house has windows.” Therion retorted. Cordelia's pout deepened.

“That's not the same.” she said plainly. Therion felt amusement stir in him. She was being a bit childish, but it was a side of her he'd never seen. Something about it was almost endearing.

“What's the book about?” He asked, nudging her to move forward. They began to walk together.

“Oh, it's...” Cordelia looked flustered, “It's a silly romance novel. Nothing you'd find very interesting, I don't think.”

“I'm not much of a reader, no.” Therion admitted, “And I guess I've never been much of a romantic either.”

“Yes, you don't strike me as one.” Cordelia replied softly, “I've...always been enamored by such tales though. Perhaps it's because I've lived such an isolated life. Feeling a deep connection like that to someone is something I...would like someday.”

She finished awkwardly. The admission seemed to embarrass her.

Therion had to admit he'd never put much thought to romance. He'd had casual encounters before, but never felt anything serious for anyone. He wasn't averse to the idea, but he really had no desire to actively seek such a thing either.

And the more he thought about it through their continued light conversation, the stranger it seemed to imagine Cordelia in such a relationship. Holding someone, marrying them- it stirred a strange emotion in his stomach and an unpleasant taste in his mouth.

He escorted her back indoors and they parted ways with a pleasant goodbye. He strolled around the manse on his own after that, feeling pensive. H'aanit and Ophilia would probably marry, he mused. Olberic was growing very close to Philip's mother according to the others. And of course, Tressa was pining after Noa.

He felt foolish, contemplating what it must be like to fall in love with someone. He was shaking the thought off as he passed a parlor with an open door.

He stopped short, and scurried out of the doorway quietly when he saw the parlor was occupied. When he peeked around the corner, he found Primrose and Alfyn seated on a sofa, close together, leaned over a book. Alfyn was pointing something out in it, and Primrose didn't seem to be listening at all. As the apothecary continued to ramble, she brought a hand to his chin and turned his face toward her-

Therion clenched his jaw and hurried away. He hadn't been meant to see that, surely. He hoped he hadn't been noticed, and he certainly wasn't going to tell anyone what he'd seen.

“Must be something in the air,” He muttered to himself. Everyone was pining or courting or...something.

Cordelia would find a person to kiss too, probably.

Why didn't that sit well with him? He'd never even thought about it until today, and now the notion wouldn't leave his head.

He marched to his room and spent the rest of the night alone.

The next day he and Tressa finished up the last of their work, days ahead of schedule. The afternoon was spent relaxing while Primrose and her staff hurried about preparing for the gala.

Alfyn seemed glued to her side, helping her carry things or just generally trying to be helpful. That wasn't out of character for him, but Therion saw something in it now that he wouldn't have before yesterday. Alfyn would settle his hand at Primrose's waist occasionally. She would lean into him. Had they always touched each other so familiarly?

He didn't think so. But he didn't say anything. If they wanted anyone to know, they would tell them, he reasoned. He shouldn't be nosy.

Soon enough guests trickled then poured into the main wing of the estate and it filled up with music and laughter. Therion was still within reach of the clamoring noise a few hours later as he walked about after dinner, looking for something to amuse himself with. Alfyn seemed to have ended up as Primrose's escort for the evening. Olberic had taken Blake and Philip into town, where the public festival grounds were, and Tressa was playing cards with H'aanit and Ophilia. He hadn't been in the mood to join at the time, and so he found himself alone.

He rounded a corner where the clamor was a bit louder, and someone hurrying around it themselves collided with his chest. He released a breath in surprise and stumbled back, eyes flicking down to get a look at whoever it was that had bumped into him.

Of course, it was Cordelia.

But Therion found himself staring anyway. It was plainly her, but she looked like another person as she was dressed. Her hair was pinned to the side a bit, out of her face. Soft shades of makeup had been applied, and the frosty blue gown she wore was elegant and opulent compared to her usual, simpler attire. Her shoulders and neck were completely exposed, smooth and pale.

She looked at him in surprise as well. His heart sputtered weirdly- had her eyes always been so blue? He'd never properly looked at them-

“Mister Therion, hello.” She greeted clumsily.

“Uh.” He replied, “Yes. Hi.”

What was wrong with him? He shook his head and straightened up, adjusting his collar. Yes, Cordelia was pretty. He'd always known that, hadn't he? It shouldn't be surprising that she would look even better fixed up for a party. But...

“What are you doing out here?” He asked.

Cordelia smiled sheepishly and let out a sigh. “It's been a long time since I was in such a crowd. So many stuffy nobles there. I know I'm one of them, but rich people can be insufferable sometimes. I needed some air. Time away from the callow boys trying to get my attention.”

“Popular on the dance floor then, I suppose.” Therion said.

“Not as such,” Cordelia said, “I'd have to accept invitations to dancing for that to be true.”

She smiled wryly and made her way to a seat by the nearest window. Therion followed dumbly.

“I wouldn't think a romantic like you would pass up a chance like that.” he commented as he sat across from her. Cordelia stifled a giggle behind her hand. Therion's heart hammered again.

“It would be foolish to hope for a genuine connection with someone who views me as a trophy to be won.” She said softly. Her eyes looked a little sad. “Many noble boys think of any woman as just that.”

The forlorn gaze she sent out the window made him feel sour. “They're idiots.” He said simply, “You're pretty, but there's a wealth of things in you besides that. Anyone who doesn't care to know them doesn't deserve you.”

He didn't realize how heartfelt his words had been until Cordelia's flustered gaze was settled on him. He felt his face heat. He squirmed under the look and avoided eye contact. Some kind of realization was on the edge of his mind. It hadn't quite hit him yet, but he could feel it approaching.

After a moment, Cordelia's face settled into a sweet, warm smile. “That's sweet of you to say. Thank you, Therion.”

He shrugged awkwardly. Words had stopped making it past his throat.

“I think the same of you.” She continued after a moment, “You're a wonderful man, aside of your rough edges.”

“No need to flatter me.” He blurted. There, his mouth still worked.

“I'm not” Cordelia laughed, “I mean every word. You may be reluctant about showing it, but you're very kind and thoughtful. And you have a strong sense of honor.”

“If you say so.”

“I do.” Cordelia insisted, and stood. “But still, I should probably make my way back to the party before Heathcote comes and scolds me for running off.”

The image of Heathcote scolding someone broke Therion's nerve enough to make him chuckle. “So you're a misbehaving child now?” He asked.

Cordelia held a finger over her mouth, and her eyes glinted. “There's more mischief in me than you think, sir. Now, I'll be off. It was nice to see you, Therion.”

He watched her retreating form, and his eyes fixed on the expanse of her shoulders and neck. They were free of any blemishes, unlike his heavily scarred body. They looked soft.

The realization slammed into him like a brick thrown at his head- that he wanted to touch them. That he found Cordelia attractive , and that was why the thought of her being involved with anyone was upsetting.

He swore under his breath. When had that happened? He tried to parse it. When they had met, she was an irritation, a blackmailer. Then she was a friend. They wrote letters back and forth, and...
He thought of them, all shut in their box back in Rippletide. How he was always rereading them when he had a bad day and imagining what Cordelia must be doing then, and if she was well. How her excited descriptions of the changing seasons made him feel warmth in his chest. Her fascination with even everyday things became endearing.

“I'm an ass.” He muttered to himself in exasperation. Primrose was right about him after all. Dense as lead. He'd developed an infatuation without ever realizing it. And now that he had it was going to eat him alive with stress.

What, he thought, am I supposed to do now?

Chapter Text

Tressa worried about Therion sometimes.

He was like a big brother to her, all things considered. It was only normal to be concerned for family, and he'd been through a lot. He still got weird, distant looks on his face from time to time.

As she stepped over the Grandport city limit, she thought of his troubled face when they had parted ways on the road. After they left Noblecourt, Therion had been quiet and moody. And she would grant that he was always a bit snippy, but this was melancholy, not irritable. Different from his usual funk. It made her wonder if something had happened with Cordelia Ravus during the festival that he wasn't telling her about.

She saw the way they looked at each other, of course. Even if they didn't notice it themselves yet, she did.

A similar thing had her in Grandport, after all. It was Therion's suggestion, initially, but Tressa knew he was right. She wouldn't be able to settle until she did something about her infatuation with Noa Wyndham. Even if it was just visit her to sate the need to see her. She only hoped dropping by without notice would be acceptable.

She'd been drawn to Noa immediately upon meeting her. Such a thin, pale girl, weak of constitution but sturdy of spirit. Those eyes of hers were as clear blue as an August sky, with sunny blonde hair to match. The perfect picture of a porcelain doll, and the sweet personality to match. Despite her status as a noble she was kind and unspoiled.

And so ambitious. Every story Tressa told about her journeys was met with excitement and fascination, and a hope from Noa that someday she too could see such sights, and meet such people. And Tressa dearly wished for that day as well. The words in Noa's letters pointed to her health slowly improving of late, and that had them both encouraged.

Noa's father often kept people from getting too close to Noa. Protective to a fault, he always feared for her health and safety. Tressa, blessedly, had avoided such a fate because of the incredibly positive effect her gift of the journal and her kindness to the young lady Wyndham had achieved.

And so when she arrived and presented her identification, the staff had her escorted inside. They'd been informed of her by now as par for the course and there was no reason not to let their employer's daughter be called upon by a friend.

“Would you like me to announce you?” asked the manservant escorting her as they arrived in the study where Noa was reportedly reading.

“No, I'd like to surprise her. Thank you, though.” Tressa responded. The manservant smiled, nodded, and allowed her inside.

Noa was curled up in a window seat across the room with what looked to be the journal. Tressa smiled, wondering how often she must reread it or write in it. She also saw a stack of letters nearby. Hers? She sort of hoped so, a slight flush thinking about Noa reading through her messages with that cute little smile on her face.

As she began to stride across the room, the young merchant coughed and announced herself. “Presenting,” She began with a flourish, “The merchant, Tressa Colzione- your ladyship.”

Noa snapped the book shut and looked up in shock. Yes, for certain, Tressa stood halfway across the room in a light mock-bow. The young lady Wyndham gasped and stumbled out of the window-seat so quickly that she nearly fell on her face.

Tressa moved forward to catch her as she fell forward again a few steps later- and was surprised almost out of her very skin when Noa's arms flew around her neck and she pressed an excited kiss on her cheek.

Tressa was certain her face was red as a beet as she helped Noa steady herself. Despite her frail build she was still a good half head taller than the admittedly tiny Tressa, and was looking down at her like she was a vision of a god.

“It's really you.” Noa said, “Tressa, I'm so happy to see you. But what are you doing here?”

Tressa had prepared for this. 'I was passing in the general direction on my way home from holiday work and thought I'd take a slight detour while I had some time off,' or something like that. It was simple, not untrue, and not so impersonal that it would seem rude. Tressa had been repeating it to herself since that morning.

And yet, what came out was this- “I just missed you, is all.”

She backpedaled immediately. “I mean, that is-!”

Well, tried to at any rate. She covered her mouth and felt her ears burning fiercely. But looking up showed Noa with a flush on her face too, so maybe it wasn't a total loss.

“I've missed you as well,” Noa replied softly, “I'm glad you came to see me.”

There was a short silence, full of all the things neither of them had yet said. I wish I could see you every day, Tressa wanted to tell her. There were so many words she never included in her letters. Most of them boiled down to what she had said already, though. Oh, I miss you so much. Every day.

Noa held her hand. “Shall we have tea?” She asked sweetly. Tressa squeezed her fingers.

“Absolutely,” She replied warmly.

There was no need to say everything right away. She had planned for a week's stay. Plenty of time to say all she wanted and more. By the end, she hoped, she would have clearly said everything she wished for Noa to know. And perhaps she would even receive a good answer for her troubles.

The small merchant offered her arm. Noa fetched the journal and letters first, but took it with a warm smile. The two of them chattered aimlessly as they informed a servant of their plans and walked toward the nearest parlor. Noa was thin but warm and soft, her proximity sending a rush through Tressa's head. She really had missed her. Her lovely face, her gentle voice, her sweet mannerisms and expressions.

Therion, she decided, really was capable of wisdom. Sometimes, anyway. She would have to thank him for it.

Chapter Text

Therion was not exactly surprised by the letter that awaited him upon his return to Rippletide. Though he supposed Cordelia must have written it while still in Noblecourt- how silly, when she could just have spoken to him.

But then, there had developed a strangely tense air between them after the night of the party. Therion's realization left him without any wit to approach her with, and Cordelia seemed to interpret this as him being upset at something. He hadn't the presence of mind to address it then, so their remaining reactions before their departures were trivial and brief.

But Cordelia remained lovely and polite in every one. Therion felt like a fool looking back, letting her depart from each conversation with a light furrow in her smooth brow. Her eyes, blue as a clear pool, seemed to ripple with disquiet.

But the letter hinted at none of this. Instead, it was sweet and warm.

It was a pleasure to see you again in Noblecourt, it had started, and just as good to see you faring so well. I worry about you often, even if I don't say it.

I know I shouldn't. You're resourceful and strong, Therion, and you never start anything you don't mean to see through. I know you'll make a wonderful merchant. But as I do with all my few friends, your well being is often on my mind.

I hope that the next time we meet, you will still be well. And I dearly enjoy every one of your letters in the meantime. The differences of our day to day lives are interesting and refreshing to read about, and I love knowing that you are going along without worry. Please take care.

With warm regards,

Cordelia

He had settled in quickly so that he could read the short message, and his heart was full to bursting by the end. There was no hint of romance, but the warmth in the words was so genuine and kind that Therion felt emotional regardless.

And naturally that did not sit well. Not now that he knew why the reaction was so strong. Imagining Cordelia smiling her sunny little smile, soft as morning light(how he hated that he made the comparison as such) while she read his letters. Did she share the same sweet words with everyone she met? He didn't doubt it. Everything she did seemed to be geared toward making those around her feel valued, wanted.

She was quite plain and simply a very sweet woman. Soft, gentle like a spring breeze. Everything about her made him feel like a poet and it was growing more and more maddening by the day.

And to cope, he stopped writing for a time. By Tressa's arrival home a little over a week later he had still not managed to even begin his next reply. He didn't mention it to her.

And she was over the moon anyway- finally having made her admissions to Noa, there were, as she put it, sweethearts. A bit of a silly term in Therion's mind, but then again there was no way to make a romantic relationship sound anything but sappy.

And in time life settled back into routine. Therion managed a reply to Cordelia, normal and full of menial updates as usual. But of course, he did tell her how it had been nice to see her again. He couldn't lie about it. And he supposed he could have left it out, but it didn't sit well with him. So on the end of that reply he tacked I enjoyed walking in the garden, I think. But think more about your health when you go out in such weather.

So began the new year.

And it moved on surprisingly quickly. Meaningless replies between him and Cordelia, though he treasured every one of them. Her mentions of a trip to Quarrycrest and the wonderful scenery she was able to see. Speaking of her dealings with Primrose, or her dogs(who she actually wrote of quite often).

And Therion had only work or his newfound family to speak of, he realized. He had no local friends, really. Tressa had a few from her childhood whom she often chatted or went out to tea with. Therion had some friendly acquaintances among store regulars and business partners, at least, so he wasn't too bothered. There was no need to be close to everyone he met. But it did make for what he feared were very boring letters.

And the months continued into early spring. Olberic announced that he was, indeed, courting Philip's mother. Therion sent him congratulations from himself and Tressa by mail. Though he had yet to know Blake very well, he found Philip to be a pleasant child and the thought of Olberic having found a family also sat well in his mind.

He was an honorable, goodhearted man. One of the first Therion had managed to open up a bit to of his old traveling companions, if only for his rigid moral compass. He deserved happiness, just as they all did.

And as spring faded into summer, Primrose and Alfyn finally made their own courtship public. It was not so much a secret as it was simply unofficial before then.

Tressa, of course, was thrilled. They were each just what the other needed, she told Therion as they discussed the letter they received. Alfyn's kindness and honesty could put Primrose's weary heart at ease- and her sensibility and realism- if somewhat pragmatic- could help keep his head out of the clouds and his altruism from getting him hurt.

Visitors came and went. Ophilia and H'aanit spent the spring equinox in Rippletide with them, chatting up a storm and cooking up even more. H'aanit found herself out of sorts with the bubblier natures of Tressa's family, but Therion's calm seemed to help put the awkward huntress at ease, so they spent many a quiet moment in corners together simply sipping at drinks during the visit.

Alfyn came by when Tressa's mother came down with a stomach illness in late summer, treating her gently and helping her through the worst of it. She would be fine, it was a common bug that passed through the body. Lots of rest, stay hydrated and treat the nausea with the little ginger drops he had brought. They tasted like a slightly spicy candy, but were meant to sooth stomach pain. Something of Alfyn's own devising, he had said.

Ali came by often. With his family's business up and running once more, they had partnered with the Colziones. He and Tressa were like- well, peas in a pod. Best friends, Therion would call them. And he didn't exactly dislike Ali either. With each visit they got on better and eventually, Therion felt he could call the witty young man a friend too. It was nice, if unexpected.

Leon Bastralle also came by once or twice. First just happening to be passing through, the second for Tressa's birthday. He brought an empty journal as a gift and paid his respects to the family. Therion also spoke with him a bit. Though their types of adventuring had been different, they were able to compare a few interesting stories.

The anniversary of his start with the Colziones came and went as well during the year. It was a quiet affair as Therion requested nothing fancy. Merely a dinner with extra dessert, a few small gifts. Therion didn't know his own birthday exactly, so the Colziones announced this would be when they celebrated it hereforth.

He didn't mind too much. He received some spending money, a new pair of boots- and his old poncho, sewn up and repaired like new.

“I thought I put this away,” He said as he ran his fingers over the skillful stitches of Mrs. Colzione's hand.

“Tressa came to me with it,” Was her reply, “She said it was an old thing that seemed important to you. Thought it would be nice to fix it up so you can wear it again, for work.”

A simple gesture, but touching. And admittedly very much like Tressa. Rascal though she was, she cared deeply for people and treated Therion just like a brother. He wasn't much for embraces, but offered a clasp of hands and a squeeze of the shoulder to Tressa that evening.

“I'm glad you're here, you know. Even if I don't say it a lot.” Tressa had replied.

“I know,” Therion replied, “I appreciate it. You'd have kicked me out by now otherwise, I'm sure.”

Tressa laughed. “How's Cordelia? Her birthday is coming soon, right?”

Therion knew it was. “She's well, so far as her last letter says,” He replied simply, and they left it at that.

Well, Tressa did. Therion, however, was at a loss.

He'd done naught but send her well wishes when she turned nineteen. He was not yet enamored as he was now, and less open to being...well, open.

But his heart felt a little hollow now.

Cordelia had so little in the way of people in her life. Occasional visits from the travelers with whom she was close. Kit. Heathcote. No local friends, only business relations and the servants with whom she was on good terms.

Three dogs was something, but they were technically guards for the house as well. Therion knew- he knew she must get lonely, and quite often.

A Therion from a different time would not have even considered that, much less been bothered by it. But Therion now- a Therion that knew Cordelia's sweetness, her selflessness, her eyes in the dim light of a winter evening, her pout through a scarf in a snowy garden- this Therion was bothered.

He couldn't make the time for such a far journey right now, he knew. It was near the Autumn Equinox and so there would be more business as Rippletide prepared for the seasonal festival. But he could sent a letter, a gift, anything.

And after several nights, he found himself pacing his room once again deliberating over what to do.

How did one go about writing a letter like that? Something heartfelt, something sweet. He had never tried it. Up until now his letters had been simple updates about his life or commentary on Cordelia's updates.

It wasn't for lack of wanting. There were many soft gestures he found himself wishing to show her of late. But all his encounters of a more intimate nature in the past had been passing. To blow off steam, simply put, and nothing more.

He was sure expensive things would have little meaning to Cordelia. She wasn't the type of person to care much for opulence, despite her status. Simplicity and sincerity were what won her over to things, and-

And Therion stopped, catching sight of his scarf on his bed. Finally, he had a gift idea in mind- a scarf would be a bit too muggy for Bolderfall he knew, but a neckerchief would be tasteful and appreciated.

All that was left was the letter. A simple note with well wishes and hopes that she enjoyed her gift would be enough he was sure, but...

It was not what he wanted to write. Not in the slightest. But how to approach what he did want to say was eating away at him so thoroughly that he had to seek advice.

Olneo was who he went to. Tressa's father was a jolly, personable man and just as his wife Marina had done, took to Therion with open arms and offered many a good counsel if the young man asked for it.

And so they sat down in the corner of the alehouse together one night. Therion had to prepare himself for the conversation, so he let Olneo steer the conversation for a while, until he came to remember what they were there for.

They sipped at mead and ate dinner. Full of good stew and the sound from the merrymakers around them, it was easy to relax at least a bit. It was as such that Olneo didn't remember Therion had needed advice until they were completely through with their meals and on to simply drinking. He set his tankard down and leaned an elbow on the table.

“Well, laddie, what was it you needed?” He asked pleasantly.

Therion shifted. “There's...well...” Someone I'm sweet on, Therion finished in his head. He had two pints in him, and it was hard to focus completely, though he was nowhere near proper drunk.

“Listen.” He finally blurted clumsily.

“I am, Therion. What is it you need?” Olneo asked, sobering up a bit, “There's no need for nerves with me, you know that by now.”

Therion looked around, and then sighed.

“Olneo,” He started, “have you ever written a love letter?”

The advice Olneo ended up giving him was simple- state his feelings in no uncertain terms, without putting pressure for a timely or favorable reply. That was how it should be with a confession by letter, he said, and sweet nothings could wait until later.

That in mind, Therion spent a few days writing on note paper drafts and ideas. Parsing out words he might use, what his feelings truly were, what he wanted to really convey. It was easier than he expected, but still difficult. The thoughts flowed so heavily he was unsure what ought be included and what should be left for later. But eventually he did find his footing, and he approached Marina Colzione for some nice, plain stationery to write it on.

"You've never asked me for any fancy paper before," She'd said, "Writing to that little honey of yours?"

Therion fidgeted. "She's not...that." He said awkwardly, but then he added, "At least, not yet. We'll see."

Seeing his discomfort, Tressa's mother simply wished him luck and said to let her know if he needed more than what she had given him. She also offered him some wrapping for the neckerchief he had bought. Simple lavender, embroidered with a sunflower.

And he sat down to write. It took him some time to neatly put down all he wanted to say, but by the next morning he was able to send the letter out with the post.

Dear Cordelia, it began,

Allow me to wish you a happy twentieth birthday first. I hope it's a good one for you. I've included a small gift. It isn't fancy, but I have told you to wear a scarf, now haven't I?

But, that's not the only reason I'm writing.

Let me start by saying I've never been a sentimental man. And I'm no good with pretty writing or prose, so I suppose you shouldn't expect any from me. That aside...

I've been troubled, since our last meeting almost a year ago. And not in a bad way, mind you. Walking with you, talking with you, being with you outside the urgent circumstances where I was fetching those stones for you...I enjoyed it.

But, Cordelia, you see, I can't stop thinking about it. Your eyes or your hair or anything else, but most especially your gentle words and manners. Everything you do feels like a punch in the gut when I'm near you. I don't know how else to phrase it. You never leave my mind, now, and it's edging on maddening. I've stopped measuring time in anything but the spaces between the letters we exchange. What is Cordelia doing right now? Is she well, is she resting enough, is she getting enough sun? I wonder after your health all the time and I feel like a fool for it, but there it is.

I'm not...good, I suppose, at saying this sort of thing. So please allow me to put it plainly.

You've got me smitten. It's not an eloquent way of saying it, and I'm embarrassed just to write it. But honesty is my only option here, lest you misunderstand me.

I'm terribly fond of you, of your letters, of everything about you. And there's no need for you to reply to this or to return the affection, as it were. This is kind of just for my own peace of mind. To air it out and put myself at rest knowing I've told you.

Please, have a wonderful birthday. Take care, and don't overwork yourself.

With Fondness,

Therion

Chapter Text

The next letter from Cordelia arrived not until nearly a month later. When Tressa handed it to him, Therion's hands shook with anxious jittering and he scrambled gracelessly to his room to open and read it.

He sat on his bed and held the envelope in his hands tensely. The same seal and ribbon as always, the same crisp white parchment.

His heart hammered in his chest, his throat, his head, his fingers. He shook it off and pulled out the folded missive. Don't worry about what it might say, he scolded, just read the damn thing.

And so he took a deep breath, unfolded it with scrunched eyes, then opened them and began to read- and his shaking only grew with each word.

My dear, dear Therion,

Please forgive the tardiness of my reply. I hope I've not kept you in limbo and fear. It simply took me quite some time to...gather myself and my words.

My hands are shaking even as I write this to you, Therion. I never expected, even in a dream, to receive such a confession from you. Kind and loyal as you are, you hold others at a distance. I always thought you had no interest in...such things.

I cannot say effectively in writing how elated I have been made. Ah, I've lost all I had planned to put down. Perhaps I should just let my pen guide me.

Therion, please do not doubt, you are ever so dear to me. There have been times when the promise of your next letter is what gets me through busy and stressful weeks. Carry on, I will tell myself, Therion will write again soon.

It is not an easy admission, but I have been smitten by you far longer than you might think. Since quite nearly the beginning, though then it was a silly crush with no informed opinion of your true self.

But now, I know you. Your honor, loyalty, your kindness. The businesslike scratch of your penmanship and the smell of your soap on your scarf. I never

A teardrop stained and blurred the next word. The letter indented and continued in another paragraph. Therion worked to control his breathing.

I never imagined I could catch your eye, and so I was content to be a friend to you. And that I was wrong in my assumptions is....I feel giddy beyond measure, like I could alight and flit with the hummingbirds in the garden. Isn't that silly...

At last, let me conclude in no uncertain terms, Therion...my dear, your affection is returned tenfold. Please write again soon. My heart always awaits your next message.

Yours,

Cordelia

There was a long, long moment where Therion was sure he would never find his breath again. But finally his lungs kicked into action and he drew in a deep, sharp breath. The exhale shuddered as he felt tears prick at his eyes. He held them back by force of will and berated himself.

Was this all it took for Cordelia to reduce him to a quivering mess of nerves?

Was this really what it felt like to have such affections, to have them reciprocated, to...

He forced another breath. This was a good thing. In fact he knew that the shaking and the pounding of his pulse were from sheer joy. The emotion was so foreign to him that it was taxing already, but it was a wonderful sort of exhaustion that came over him.

There had been drops where tears had hit the paper. She had been so overjoyed she had cried.

Therion had never doubted Cordelia's loyalty as a friend. She was a genuine, gentle girl and her care for others was never halfhearted or insincere. And the thought of anyone catching her eye had driven him up a wall with discomfort ever since that day the previous winter. But that he of all people had captured her gaze was almost too much to believe.

He had known so little in the way of affection during his life. A solitary existence as an orphan on the streets and then a solitary existence as a thief after Darius betrayed him. The friends he made in his travel were the only family he had ever known, really, and there were times when even their friendship felt foreign and strange. It left a dissonance in his chest that made him feel hollow and lacking.

And he had often wondered if perhaps he just did not know how to feel. If, perhaps, something was wrong with him to make him so rarely emotional, if ever at all. That he should think open displays of joy, or sadness, or anything were odd. A result of his trauma, his isolation perhaps. But in private he had worried if he could ever learn to unbar his heart in the way people as Alfyn or Ophilia did.

As he tucked the letter away safely in the box with the others, he decided that this warmth in his chest...which spread to his veins not like fire but like the softness of a down blanket, this warmth must be the beginning of a greater change in him.

Suddenly the world seemed brighter and more colorful. Like Cordelia's wondering perspective had come to him through her words. The sun was warmer on his skin as he worked outside that day. The bustle of the market more cheerful, more pleasant. Even Tressa's teasing felt homey and safe.

“You've had a little old grin on your face all day,” Tressa finally pressed that night as they strolled through town after dinner. Stretching their legs and getting some air wasn't an uncommon pastime for them.

“Have I now,” Therion said idly.

“Anything to do with the letter you got this morning?” Tressa elbowed his side with a sly smile on her face. Of course she could tell. Therion had been so distracted, he doubted anyone of the Colziones hadn't caught on yet.

And, Therion decided, he didn't want to deny it anyway.

“Yes,” he replied simply, “It does.”

The shock of the honest reply stopped Tressa in her tracks, and Therion simply hummed to himself in satisfaction as he left her behind.

He busied himself beginning a reply straight after dinner that night, too wound up to sleep and too full of things to say to keep them all in. He had sent it off by the next day, hands sweating as he placed it in the postbox.

So began Therion and Cordelia's relationship. Whatever it was(Lovers? Sweethearts? He wasn't sure what the best word for it could be), the letters became that much more intimate and sentimental as the months passed.

Cordelia noted the changes in each season with delight, always just as happy with the weather as ever. But Therion noted, she seemed especially fond of rain. As autumn rolled in, he asked if he might be correct in his assumption in one of his messages.

My mother loved to dance in the rain, Cordelia wrote back, And took me out to splash in showers when I was young. I still like doing that- is it silly, do you think?

A smile spread on his face as he imagined the noblewoman toeing off her shoes and bouncing about and twirling in the water like a child. It was an endearing mental image.

I promise I don't let myself catch cold though, good sir! Always a hot bath and fresh change of clothes immediately after.

That put a very different mental image in his head and he banished it with a flustered cough.

The seasons turned. The winter solstice passed again, a flurry of activity this year and too full for Therion or Tressa to take much time off with the rapid growth of the Colzione's business. But among the bustle of the soggy Rippletide winters, Therion still found time to get a gift and letter sent off to Cordelia. It was a simple little thing, a pendant he'd seen in a shop window that had reminded him of her. A simple chain with a silver bird, wings spread. Cordelia's free spirit had always seemed to him like a bird's, if caged by the restrictions of her noble status. A pretty thing best admired in flight but often confined to the limits of duty.

He wasn't surprised to receive a small parcel from her as well, though he hardly had any guess as to what it might contain. The letter was heartfelt and sweet as hers always were- I think of you so often it drives me to distraction. Come visit soon. The words made him smile and his heart warmed.

The gift had turned out to be a set of writing implements- a nice pen and a few pencils. Considering the nature of their correspondence Therion found it very appropriate. He made sure to write his next letter with them.

The Solstice passed, and then the new year, and winter bled into spring again. Work continued busily for the Colziones and Therion continued to grow more at home with them. An occasional pang, a wish for the open roads and large skies of travel washed through him. But he found that instead of the 'anywhere but here' desire he had once felt, the cliffs and crags of Bolderfall and its dusty streets filled his head. The stone walls of the Ravus estate, its iron gates, the white steps leading to the front door...

Cordelia, standing with hands folded in front of her, waiting for him.
He wondered- had she grown her hair out at all? Had her taste in clothing changed, or the way she carried herself? She filled every empty space in his head, down to the last nooks and crannies.

“You're lovesick,” Alfyn said to him when he visited at the edge of summer, “As a puppy.”

“I don't need to hear that from Primrose's little pet,” was Therion's retort, but it held no bite. Alfyn was devoted, wrapped around Primrose's finger like a piece of string, yes. But the two of them were happy and Primrose would do anything to keep him safe and happy as well. And anyway, it only served to say that Alfyn knew what love-sickness looked like.

“Have you seen her at all recently? Cordelia I mean,” Alfyn asked over his mead. They had found themselves at the tavern as they always did when they spent time together. Alfyn enjoyed a good stiff drink or two on the regular, though he was less reckless in his consumption now than when they had first met.

“Not since last winter,” Therion replied honestly.

“I popped by on my way through a couple of months ago,” Alfyn told him, “She's the same little darlin' as ever. The whole town's real enamored with her. Big difference from back in the old days, eh?”

The old days. Therion chuckled a little and shook his head. Alfyn made them sound so distant, but it was still less than five years ago that it all had happened.

And yet, it did seem so very far away now, emotionally. The cold resentment he'd held, and then the begrudging respect. The tentative grasp at friendship. And now he couldn't imagine his life without Cordelia as a permanent fixture.
He'd never considered before that moment the long term. He set his drink down. There were no strict laws regarding class and marriage throughout most of Orsterra. The most stringent ones where in the kingdom of Atlas, and even then they could be worked around if you took the right avenues.

But there were still traditions, things people would whisper about and make scandals of. He suddenly wondered, what would happen if they...and then just as suddenly he became aware of what he was thinking.

Marriage. Spending the rest of his life with Cordelia, bound to her in law and in heart, and...

“I really am lovesick,” He muttered to Alfyn feeling pathetic. His friend looked at him in worry.

“Therion?” the concern in his voice was heavy.

“I can't even offer her anything she doesn't already have,” Therion voiced the realization grimly, “She could do so much better than me.”

Alfyn rested his hand on Therion's back. “Therion, listen.” He said gently, “Listen. C'mon, look at me.”

Therion did.

“I'm nothin' but a country bumpkin, okay? A backwoods apothecary with no real education outside my trade. Primrose could have had her pick of almost anyone but she chose me anyway. She doesn't care about station or traditions or any of all that stupid stuff people make a fuss over. She still loves me.”

He nodded at Therion, “And Cordelia loves you. Don't let yourself think you aren't good enough. She chose you for a reason- chin up, okay?”

Therion sank into his drink. “Still,” He remarked, “I can't...afford much in the way of a ring, huh...”

Alfyn burst into laughter. “You're thinkin' even more seriously than I thought, huh? Wow, buddy.”

After Alfyn's visit, Therion began to really think on it. Marrying someone was a real act of imprisonment for someone like him(or at least, who he used to be) who valued having no loose ends to tie them down. It took a lot of commitment. He knew that. He saw it in many couples, especially Tressa's parents.

The intimidating nature of the prospect did nothing to turn him away from it. So he made a decision as summer began to draw to a close.

“You're sure you've got everything?” Tressa said as he shouldered his bag. Various members of their group had helped him plan this, but now came the part he had to do alone.

“I'm all packed. You're visiting Noa in mid-autumn, right?” He asked. He needed to be sure so he could be back in time to fill in for Tressa while she was away.

“Yeah, just for a week.” Tressa told him, “Be safe on the road, now. Ma asked for you to send a letter when you get there.”

“Will do,” Therion said.

“And good luck, Therion.” Tressa said as he finally turned to go. Her tone was genuine, lacked any of her usual tease and pep. He offered her a small smile before finally setting off.

It would be a week's journey at least to Bolderfall. Much longer a journey than he had taken in quite some time. His restless spirit was looking forward to it- and especially to what lay at the destination.

The end of summer in Bolderfall usually meant warm, light showers as the weather changed to the rainy autumn season. The dust settled underneath the dampness and the air filled with petrichor and the sound of laughter as children splashed about in the puddles.

Cordelia, for her part, loved this particular time of year. The smell, the sound, the temperature. She loved all of the year. Every season had its charms and unique traits, but the end of summer that blurred into the beginning of autumn was genuinely her favorite.

It had been some time since she took a personal day, and so when a shower had started that morning she canceled all her appointments and went to splash about with the dogs in a sundress and light jacket.

She supposed that Therion's next letter would arrive any day now. It had been a while since she had heard from him, but he had mentioned that summer was looking to be busy for the Colziones.

She treasured every message he sent her. He was much more pragmatic than she, very practical in his writing and in his observations of the world. But he still wrote to her gently and warmly. If Cordelia's words were a warm blanket, Therion's were a strong cup of coffee(another thing she quite enjoyed, actually).

She was so busy with the rain and her thoughts though, that when the dogs excitedly barked and ran off, she dizzily stopped her spinning and nearly fell. Was it Heathcote with afternoon tea, or...?

“You're going to slip if you keep that up,” Came a deep voice from the entry to the garden.

Cordelia's heart screeched to a halt. She knew that voice, had heard it so many times in her daydreams and slumbers when she felt lonely. She pattered around to face the trellis that bordered the entry in her bare feet. And, to her delight, he was there. Truly there, not a daydream or hallucination.

Therion was nudging the dogs down away from his pack, but his gaze was set on her, soft and warm. Cordelia's breath caught in her chest.

He looked handsome, well put together and very different from the bedraggled fellow he had been when they first met(though she had thought him handsome then, too). His cloak had been repaired to an almost new state, his work clothes underneath only slightly worn and a bit dusty from the road but otherwise clean. Even his hair had seen a bit of combing and trimming.

The heiress took a step forward. “Therion?” She asked. It was hardly above a whisper but he heard her, and he smiled.

“I do believe that's me, yes.”

He had to brace himself as the barefoot noblewoman dashed into his arms from halfway across the garden courtyard, laughing in delight. But he caught her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and a laugh rumbled in his chest as he spun her around to settle their momentum and keep them from tumbling to the ground.

And her lips were on his cheeks, his forehead, his nose, his chin- everywhere but his mouth. The little pecks drew more laughter out of him though, as he set Cordelia on the ground.

She was breathing heavily and he cupped her chin. “I had to see you,” He said quietly.

“Therion-” she began,

“Cordelia,” He interrupted. She looked up at him, a bit confused by his solemn tone. Her eyes were as light a blue as a clear sky and her hair, even damp, remained a pale gold. A glistening songbird in a rainy garden. It was poetic at the very least.

“I love you,” He murmured. Loud enough not to be misheard, quiet enough to be private.

And he kissed her, before her gasp could turn into words. Soft and gentle and slow, he pressed his lips against hers. His were so chapped and cracked against Cordelia's, smooth and soft. But she pressed back with little hesitation, hands moving to his face as he drew her closer to him by the waist.

And she was gasping by the time they parted, but the flush of her face and sparkle of her eyes was enough to tell the reformed thief that it was a good thing. He drew her close, into a tight hug, heedless of them both being thoroughly soaked from the drizzle by now.

When he released her, it was to press something into her hands. Cordelia furrowed her brow. He'd said so little, and she was of course elated to see him. But whatever could be going on that-

Her breath caught. In her hand was a silver ring, with a small skystone set into it.

“Therion?” She asked in a whisper.

“Let's go inside,” He murmured, “There's something I want to talk to you about.”

Therion would return to Rippletide long enough to finish getting his things together and fill in during Tressa's absence, he knew. But after that, there could be nowhere else he would settle rather than Bolderfall.

In his pack, a simple box full of cherished letters lay. A similar bundle of letters was bound up in a drawer at Cordelia's desk in her study.

And perhaps as the years went on there would be more times that called for letters. More absences, journeys, and partings. But Therion had decided now that if there were any home he wanted to return to- any place he would tie himself to, for any reason- it would be Cordelia. Her, and no one else.

The last page of their initial correspondence was closing, and the first of a lifetime was about to open. And someday they would share the letters with their son and daughter and laugh at all the silly things they had shared as they told their story. But now it was only a beginning. A prologue to something much greater.