Work Text:
Dawn light filtered in, filling the room with a soft glow. H’aanit lazily rolled over, still drowsy from sleep. She wrapped an arm around Primrose, pulling her closer to her under the covers as if it were second nature.
Primrose sighed at the tender contact, relaxing at the touch of her lover. H’aanit burrowed her face into Primrose’s neck, seeking warmth. She felt the softness of the dancer’s hair, tinged with the scent of jasmine. H’aanit woke slowly, cuddled up close to her girlfriend.
She usually woke up before Primrose, as she naturally rose at dawn. Her routine consisted of waking up with the sunrise, taking a morning stroll with Linde, and spending time cleaning and polishing her weapons. She often used this time to make more arrows, tighten the string of her bow, and clean her axe’s blade.
However, since she and Primrose started sharing a bed, it’s been increasingly difficult to leave on time. She enjoys the comfort of sleeping in, of cuddling next to her lover. In the closeness of their embrace, she feels Primrose’s heartbeats, hears her sighs in sleep. H’aanit had not experienced this level of intimacy with any past lover—she and Primrose seemed to lie in perfect harmony, a balance that she was reluctant to disturb. So she would lay awake as dawn faded to morning, tracing the curve of Primrose’s cheek, softly running her hands through her long strands of hair, simply relishing in the joy of spending the morning entwined with the one she loved.
Linde hasn’t seemed bothered by the change in habit. In fact, she was deep in slumber, snoring in the covers at their feet, a mass of white fur and warmth. The snow leopard had taken a liking to H’aanit’s travel companions from day one, but Primrose was always her favorite.
H’aanit was now fully awake, with Primrose cuddle up to her chest. She absentmindedly traced her thumb along the edge of her lover’s thigh, appreciating both its softness and strength. Primrose had the toned body of a dancer and her physique often matched or surpassed H’aanit’s own, a fact that left the huntress both impressed and proud.
Smiling nostalgically, H’aanit recalls a moment from the tavern, when just the women were chatting over drinks.
“Well,” Primrose had asked, that sly smile stretched on her face. H’aanit had just realized it back then, why that smile had caused some anticipatory dread in the pit of her stomach. She had a crush, the first in years. The huntress struggled with that smile specifically, how Primrose’s coy eyes and curved mouth filled her with the desire to cover that smile with her own. “What’s on your mind, H’aanit?”
“Tis’ no matter.” She balked, taking a swig of her whiskey to hide the blush on her face.
“Oho?” Primrose leaned forward, a teasing look on her face. “You look like you’re thinking of a lover. Do share.”
“Yeah H’aanit! You’re obviously crushing on someone!” Tressa piped up.
The redness on her face worsened, and it was not due to the alcohol. H’aanit sputtered, her poker face shredded to pieces.
“I holden no such feelings.” H’aanit replied
“Perhaps she would prefer to keep it to herself,” Ophilia cut in, her voice soft in understanding.
“Alright, alright.” Primrose relented, sipping at her wine. “Perhaps a change in topic then.” She paused for a moment, pretending to think. H’aanit expected the next question, but still flinched just slightly when Primrose finally asked. “What do you look for in a man?”
H’aanit averted her gaze, trying to keep her face inscrutable. (Well truthfully, I only love women). She pretended to mull over the question before presenting her answer, the same she gave whenever this question came up in idle conversation.
“I suppose…someone stronger than me. Who can protect me.” H’aanit met Primrose’s eyes with an electric gaze, returning the smirk to her from across the table. She always gave such an answer, knowing it was a challenge meant to never be overcome. No man she had ever encountered could fell her in combat, not even her master Z’aanta. She was intent on keeping it that way, as it freed her from the worry of having to entertain the wants and needs of a man. And, should a woman ever meet those standards, she knew she would assuredly fall for her.
Perhaps that is why she felt so deeply for Primrose.
For she knew the pain of her lover, but she also knew the resolve. She heard tales of Primroses time in the Sunlands, biding her time under an abusive master in a brothel where she only knew one true friend. And Primrose had not been idle in her training as an assassin – the strength of a dancer is one of elegance, stamina, and power. H’aanit is sure that Primrose’s strength exceeds her own in many ways, and that idea leaves her excited and devoted to the woman pressed against her chest in this moment.
Primrose stirred, turning over to face her, eyes still glazed over with sleep. Her hand rose to touch H’aanit’s cheek, and her gaze met the other woman’s. She noticed the bright glint in her lover’s eyes, that so often appeared in battle and in the pursuit of a great hunt.
“What’s on your mind, dear?” Primrose asked curiously, caressing H’aanit’s cheek affectionately.
“I love thee deeply.” H’aanit stated with both a bluntness and a vulnerability that she did not expect. Usually that focused look only appeared on her face when H’aanit is at her most savage and graceful, when she is swinging her blade in combat or tracking her latest mark. Yet, in this context, Primrose recognizes the look for what it is—H’aanit’s devotion, whether its for her comrades, her craft, or her lover. She is a woman of intense loyalty, and Primrose felt a rush of warmth as she realized that her lover held such deep fidelity towards her.
“As I love you,” Primrose replied, pulling H’aanit into a soft kiss. The two remained in bed longer than usual, enjoying the presence of the other in their bliss.