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“Carants!”
It was more of a tackle than a hug, and Evelyn felt her feet lift from the ground with Síora’s embrace, her own laughter bubbling from her throat her she wrapped her arms around the woman.
“Síora,” she smiled, slightly breathless as the woman squeezed her tight, “it’s good to see you, my friend.”
“It has been too long, Evie,” Síora said gently, her eyes darting across her face before a frown graced her brow, “you look tired. Have you been sleeping?”
“No less than usual,” Evelyn shook her head, fighting against the fake and polite De Sardet smile that usually accompanied the words. Here was not the time or place for it, even when the old nickname shot the expected and quiet ache through her heart.
“That’s not as much of a comfort as you seem to think it is,” Kurt drawled from behind, his warm hand coming to rest at the small of her back.
“Kurt,” Síora smiles, launching herself forward and wrapping the man in a similar hug.
Evelyn unsuccessfully bites down on her smile at the taken aback expression on his face and the awkward hovering of his arms, before he tentatively patted her on the back, “nice to see you too.”
Síora pulls away with a pleased smile, and Evelyn can't help but notice how well leadership suits her—far more than the provisional governorship suits herself, at any rate.
"Come, we have much to do still," Síora takes her hand and leads her forward, but Evelyn can't find it in herself to protest with the familiar treatment. “Mev has said she has not seen this many people gather since the Lions first came to our island.”
“Have you ever been to a Hunt? Aside from last year,” Evelyn asks.
“Once, when I was very small. I do not remember much.”
“I’m sorry we couldn’t stay, then.”
“Why are you apologising? I do not think they would have let you join us, last year. But we are here now, and it will be our first together,” Síora smiles, and it’s infectious.
It was remarkable, the difference a year makes. It was smiles that greeted them both now, rather than the rightly placed mistrust that they had been met with previously. Perhaps the starkest of changes was the fact that there were children running through the village now, free to roam and play instead of hiding away from the renaigse newcomers.
It was… refreshing to be so remote again, rather than under the constant weight that sat heavy on her shoulders in New Sérène. Evelyn knew now why Kurt had insisted they leave earlier than they had planned—and why he had seemed so intent on drawing out their travel speed to a leisurely pace, as if they had no cares in the world. How desperately she had been needing the fresh air, and to forget for just a moment about the piles of work that were awaiting her return.
Surrounded by the smells of nature and the tall trees of Vígshádhír with Kurt's steady presence at her side and Síora’s easy conversation, she could almost make believe she was herself again. Something that she has not felt for a great long while.
“Evelyn,” Kurt softly prompts, his fingers catching hers as he pulls her aside, “I can hear you thinking from here.”
“Am I that obvious?”
“No, but I'd like to consider myself an expert on your expressions by now,” he says with a dry tone. “You're allowed to have fun. We agreed, remember?”
“Kurt—”
“What did we agree, my Lady?”
“No De Sardet,” she sighs, “just Evelyn.”
“No De Sardet,” he repeats with a gentle squeeze of her hands. She's not quite sure who smiles first from the action, but then neither can stop the growing smiles and soft huffs of laughter. Kurt's eyes flick over her shoulder and he sighs, “I think Síora is planning on separating us. She has that look.”
“It's probably the safest bet of making sure work gets done,” Evelyn murmurs, and resolutely doesn’t look at his lips.
“Probably,” Kurt nods, and there's another squeeze of her hands as she turns back to their friend.
The suitably unimpressed look causes a bubble of laughter through her before they're most definitely separated. Síora fondly rolls her eyes before she sends Kurt to the other side of the village, and Evelyn lets herself be guided by Síora into the most time crucial tasks.
Its easy to lose herself in the rhythm of the work and company for hours, until a delighted shriek draws her attention.
A small swarm of children surround Kurt, and one dangles in the air as they hang from his arm. She can’t hear what he says as he hoists the kid onto his back, but she can see the grin stretched wide on his face as the kids try to share his attention. His eyes quickly find hers as if he could feel her watching him, and Evelyn delights in the rapid reddening of his ears before he’s dragged away again.
The last time they were able to be so carefree was, well… she chances a glance at her left hand, and the simple black line of ink around her ring finger never ceases to send a quick rush of warmth through her.
“You act like you have only just become minundhanem,” Síora teases with a nudge of her shoulder.
There's a snort as Mev approaches and she drops the full basket in her arms onto their workspace. “That feeling does not easily fade, Síora,” she says with an inscrutable look, “but it seems your renaigse is good with children.”
“So it would seem,” she replies, unable to help how her eyes dart to Kurt again, where he carefully guided a child's hands as they weave a cluster of flowers together.
By the Enlightened, is he trying to murder her?
“You are less subtle than you used to be,” Síora snorts.
Her cheeks heat and she can barely articulate a response before Mev looks between the two of them with a raised brow, and then something Evelyn could only classify as a smile slips onto her face, “it is good to know that the man is not as scared of everything here.”
She doesn’t expect her own burst of laughter, but the flush of her cheeks instead burns with her own embarrassment. “You made quite an intimidating first impression.”
Mev stares at her for a long moment before she nods, seemingly pleased with herself. “Are you sure you will not join us tonight? Síora told me much of your skills.”
“Oh,” Evelyn starts, before shaking her head, “no, I… I don’t think I’m ready yet.”
Even after a year, even with the time she had shared with the other clans, and with Síora and her aunt, and the rest of the clan in Vígnamrí, Evelyn still felt like a stranger. Like a renaigse. It sat underneath her skin, the sharp reminder that she didn’t quite fit in to any one place or people.
Maybe with time it would get easier, but until that time, Evelyn was more than happy to keep to the sidelines with Kurt.
“Very well. I'm sure the children will keep you both occupied,” she says before there's another call for her from her voglendaig and she's pulled away.
“Do you want me to stay behind with you?” Síora gently asks, catching her arm before Evelyn can throw herself back into the preparations.
“No, you should have fun tonight. Go experience the Hunt. Kurt and I will be here when you get back.”
“Are you certain?”
“Absolutely,” Evelyn promises.
The shade is a nice reprieve from the heat of the afternoon sun and not for the first time, Kurt has had to stop himself from drifting off in it’s comfort. His gaze travels once again across the village to where Evelyn is smiling and laughing with Síora, and he knows without a doubt this was the right decision—the time away has done her a world of good. Likewise, he can’t say he pictured his day being dragged around by children, but to be honest, there is little he can find to complain about.
Most of the kids have retreated back to their parents now that the excitement and newness of Kurt has worn off, but there are still a handful of the younger ones that are eager for his approval in a way that almost reminds him of when he had first been assigned as the master of arms… with less teenage hormones, he thinks with a smirk.
“Do you think Evie would like these?” Ailis, the youngest, asks from his lap, her brow scrunched with concentration as she braids flowers into the colourful mess of a crown.
“So she’s ‘Evie’ now, is she?” He looks down at the bundle she’s continuously asked him about, the tangle of pinks and blues and yellow he helped her pick out and weave together and nods, “they’re her favourite colours.”
“I heard Síora call her that,” she defends, her eyes wide at the offense.
“Why don’t you go give it to her?”
The girl suddenly turns bashfall, a light pink dancing on her cheeks.
Oh, he realises.
He keeps his voice gentle, and Kurt has to bite down on his smile. “Do you want me to come with you?”
The debate plays out on her young face before she gives an all-too-serious nod. She stands and clutches the wreath in one hand and takes Kurt’s hand in the other, leading him—determinedly, he might add—to where Evelyn and Síora sort through the various scatterings of plants he can’t make heads or tails of beyond ‘poisonous’ and ‘not poisonous’. Both women look up with their approach and there’s a faint flush to Evelyn’s cheeks as she smiles.
“Kurt,” she nods, and then turns her smile on the child, “Ailis.”
He feels the small hand ever so faintly tighten around his own, and he realises just how much he has in common with a seven year old. “Go on, Ailis.”
“I made this for you,” she declares, her chest puffing with pride as holds the crown out.
“Is that so?” Kurt drawls, biting down on his smile when Ailis shoots him a glare, which is wholly ruined by the fact that he can see her tongue poking through the gap of her missing front tooth.
Evelyn’s face lights up as she kneels down to Ailis's height, a smile on her lips.
“You made this?”
“...Kurt helped,” she hastily adds, like if she says it fast enough no one will notice.
“I'm sure you did all the important parts though,” Evelyn's gaze darts to him for but a moment and her smile grows into a wonderful grin as she reaches up to her braid, “will you put it on me?”
Ailis nods fast and watches as Evelyn's quick fingers unwind her braid into a simple plait that hangs loosely over her shoulder, and then ever so carefully places the crown atop Evelyn's ducked head.
Will he ever tire of looking at her?
He doubts it.
“It's beautiful, Ailis,” Evelyn smiles, “I love it, thank you.”
“Thank you, Evie,” Ailis's blush grows something fierce before the young girl blurts, “will you be my minundhanem?”
There’s a second of pause as the three of them process.
Evelyn is, as expected, the first to recover.
“Oh,” she huffs a faint laugh, “but Ailis, I'm already betrothed. How could I break Kurt's heart like that?”
Síora snorts a laugh as Ailis frowns and sends another glower his way.
“What's betrothed?”
“It means we're… going to be minundhanem,” Evelyn haltingly explains, “we still need to complete our bonding.”
“Oh,” Ailis says quietly.
Síora frowns and shoots them both a confused look, “I thought you had already… married?”
“Unofficially,” Evelyn says quietly, and Kurt doesn’t miss how her thumb absentmindedly fiddles over her ring finger, “we're hoping Vasco returns with my uncle's recognition of Naut ceremony.”
“Your ways are still so strange to me, carants,” Síora sighs, “I doubt I will ever understand them.”
“But,” Evelyn starts, and Kurt knows that wicked tone anywhere as Ailis perks up, “where I come from, people have fought for the right to bond with whom they most love.”
By the Enlightened—
“Evelyn,” Kurt chokes, and his ears grow hot when she turns her teasing grin on him.
“I'll fight Kurt!” Ailis all but shouts, looking to him with wide eyes.
Before he can even protest, Evelyn beams and takes Ailis's hands in hers. “May I give Kurt a good luck kiss, my brave warrior?”
Ailis’s brow dips in serious thought before she nods, “yes.”
“Thank you.”
He's not endeared by that smile. Or the flower crown. He's absolutely not.
Not at all.
“You really want me to fight a seven year old for your honour?” Kurt asks lowly, pursing his lips as she raises her eyebrows in mock innocence.
Evelyn takes his hands in hers, and he can see how much she’s clearly biting down on her smile. “You live and breath honour, Kurt, what seems to be the problem?”
“No, there's no problem at all. Only, I had no idea you were a fan of those kinds of books, my Lady,” he teases, “or are you more for the raunchy types the nobles talk about in hushed whispers?”
“Oh, very much so,” Evelyn nods seriously, “I have a collection hidden away in my private rooms.”
“The rooms which I share?”
“Yes, absolutely,” she deadpans, when there’s a noise of protest from Ailis and they both break into stifled laughter.
“I think my competition is getting impatient,” he says under his breath, and he feels her fingers gently tracing his line of ink.
“Good luck,” she murmurs and his gut swoops as Evelyn bites her lip with her next smile as she leans in.
A simple lingering press of the lips, nothing more—but even so, he finds himself leaning forward for a second one. He feels the smirk against his lips as she pulls away, and her eyes flick to Ailis before she gives a dramatic sigh and shrugs helplessly.
Kurt drops his expression to something stoney as he turns back to Ailis, and has to clench his jaw to stop himself from smiling at her folded arms and hugely unimpressed expression.
“Would you like a good luck kiss too, Ailis?” Evelyn asks, and the young girl’s face turns pink before she nods.
Evelyn leans down and kisses her cheek, whereupon Ailis lets out a ferocious battle cry and charges at his legs.
Smiling hurts.
Evelyn’s not sure which makes her laugh more, the unexpected war cry or the look of shock that plastered itself on Kurt's face as Ailis tried to tackle him. Síora is not as restrained as Evelyn, her laughter loud and unrepentant in the face of the... challenge.
Her heart flutters in her chest as Kurt draws it out instead of immediately rolling over to concede his defeat, as Ailis growls and giggles with childish delight alongside his dramatic noises of pain and aggression.
He puts on a good show, for what it's worth.
There’s a shriek of Ailis’s laughter as Kurt tickles her and the girl turns into a wild assortment of writhing limbs, and Kurt only barely manages to avoid the wayward hands that fly near his face.
“I yield,” Kurt chokes between his own laughter, slumping back on the ground and throwing his arm over his face, “I yield, Ailis.”
Ailis climbs victoriously onto his chest, beaming with a toothy grin as she turns to look back at Evelyn. “Evie, I won!”
“You did!”
Her cheeks ache with how hard she’s grinning.
There’s a groan as Ailis knees Kurt in the ribs as she scrambles over to her.
“Does this mean you’re my minundhanem now?”
Kurt’s arm moves a touch as he peeks at her, and the smile on his face makes her stomach twist with butterflies and the ever present bloom of warmth with how much she loves him.
“My brave champion, I would be honoured to be your minundhanem,” Evelyn says, before looking to Kurt with a sigh, “oh, my dear sweet Kurt, I shall miss you so.”
He slowly gets to his feet, brushing the dirt from his pants and looks sadly between Ailis and herself, and gives a dejected nod. “Do I at least get a commiseration kiss?”
Evelyn looks down at Ailis in question and the girl frowns, before tugging gently on her hand to pull her down to her level to whisper in her ear, “what does commiseration mean?”
“He means a loser’s kiss,” Evelyn whispers back, “what do you think, does he deserve one?”
“I guess,” Ailis sighs, rolling her eyes.
“You’re much kinder than I am,” she laughs as she rises, squeezing Ailis’s hand.
Evelyn purses her lips and raises her brows in expectation, biting down on the smile that tempts her when Kurt catches her hand to reel her in. With one hand on her waist and his other holding her hand, he’s a solid wall of warmth against her and with the nip of her bottom lip and gentle swipe of his tongue, Evelyn can’t help but sigh into this kiss.
It takes all her willpower to pull herself away, and releases an ever so faint pleased hum that only Kurt could have the hope of hearing.
“That was a nice kiss,” she says softly.
“Is that so?” he murmurs against her lips.
“Yes,” she breathes.
“Shame that, what with you being minundhanem to a seven year old now,” he grins, his arms falling away from around her.
She huffs a laugh and turns back to the other two, “Ailis, do you want to help Síora and I?”
Ailis’s expression turns conflicted as she glances back to the rest of the children, and looks back to her helplessly.
Síora has a look of impossible affection on her face as she shakes her head. “We have almost finished, I can handle the rest.”
“Truly?” Aillis asks, her eyes lighting up in excitement.
“Are you sure?” Evelyn asks quietly and Síora nods gently.
“I am a mál,” Síora says tonelessly, and then breaks into a smile when Evelyn quietly snorts, “go, I will see you after the Hunt tonight.”
“Thank you, Síora,” she says, which is enthusiastically repeated by Ailis before she starts to drag her over to the other children.
Evelyn hears Kurt chuckle behind her before there’s the crunch of leaves under his feet as he follows.
The fire in the centre of the village is a welcome reprieve against the cold wild and the rapidly dwindling sunlight. The few who stayed behind are easy company, either the parents of the smallest of the children, and those who are too old to participate in the hunt altogether. The children old enough to be left mostly unsupervised—but not old enough to join the Hunt—are grouped together under everyone’s watchful eye as they joke or listen to the shared stories being thrown around. And much to their joint amusement, Ailis had very firmly sat herself down between Kurt and Evelyn, where he had spent most of the evening watching fondly from beside the self-imposed-child-barrier as Evelyn had crafted a crown for Ailis to wear.
Even now, Kurt watches as the two quietly conspire, Evelyn’s slender fingers aimlessly braiding the leftover collection of flowers the two had originally gathered together, and Ailis every so often tells her to use a different flower or very carefully weaves in her own addition.
He leans his head back and his eyes slip closed in the peace of it all.
The next thing Kurt knows, there’s a warm and familiar hand in his and a child quietly giggling, and he opens his eyes to Ailis staring at him and Evelyn’s tender smile.
“You fell asleep,” Ailis states, and she looks to Evelyn and her grin widens.
Oh, yes. Definitely conspiring.
“Imagine that, my bedtime being before yours,” he drones, and Evelyn snorts a laugh and squeezes his hand.
“You must be older than Pedir,” Ailis whispers, none too quietly, “he’s still awake.”
“I will pretend I did not hear that, young Ailis,” comes his old voice and even though there’s an obvious smile in his tone, Ailis blushes before she descends into a new wave of giggles.
Only this time, Evelyn follows her with her own quiet laughter.
“So, what’s got you two grinning like fools, then?”
“We made you something,” Ailis disjointedly sing-songs, and only then does he notice how she’s holding her hands behind her back.
Kurt squints at her and looks her over with a careful eye, before his eyes flick to Evelyn and her soft grin.
“Hand it over, then.”
Ailis cheers and bounces on her toes as she thrusts the flower crown at him. He looks down at the assortment of blue and white flowers, and the tiny yellow daisies that stick out without rhyme or reason.
He takes it with careful fingers and sits it on his head, biting down on his smile when he looks back up at the two of them and sees their expressions. “Happy?”
“Very,” Evelyn sounds extremely satisfied as she nods, “I told you he’d wear it, Ailis.”
“You are minundhanem,” she pouts, as if she’s explaining to a child younger than her, “it doesn’t count!”
“Are we now? Why didn’t either of you wake me and tell me the good news?” Kurt smiles, and Ailis pokes her tongue at him, before he looks to Evelyn, “blue, white, and yellow though? I didn’t think you were a fan of the uniform.”
“Whatever gave you that idea?” Evelyn scoffs, and then she shrugs, her lips parting in a contented smile as she looks at Ailis, “besides, I didn’t pick the colours.”
“On ol menawí, I need your help again,” Ongos calls from his workspace set out by Mev's house.
Evelyn sighs and slips her hand out of his. “My work is never done, it seems.”
Ailis scowls in Ongos's direction, staring mournfully after Evelyn before she throws herself down against Kurt.
He doesn’t feel any need to fill the silence of Evelyn's absence, not when Ailis has a look of concentration etched across her face as she plays with his left hand, tracing his tattoo and turning his hand back and forth to her satisfy her own curiosity.
“What does it mean? Evie has it too.”
“It's just another way of... bonding,” Kurt hesitantly tries to explain, “to show we belong to each other.”
“To let the renaigse know you are minundhanem?” She quietly trails off, like she doesn’t quite understand it.
“Exactly.”
She's quiet as she starts to lose her energy and Kurt too, finds himself fighting to keep his eyes open, until he finally feels Ailis's weight fully slump against him.
“Thank you for letting Evie be my minundhanem, Kurt,” Ailis sleepily mumbles, her head resting on his shoulder.
“You won fair and square, kid,” he says softly, shifting her into a more comfortable position on his chest, “I had nothing to do with it.”
When there’s no answer like he anticipates, he looks down to see her eyes shut and her mouth parted in sleep. He smiles and gently shakes his head, resting his head back as his eyes follow Evelyn across the way until she sits back down beside him.
“You two make quite the image,” she softly murmurs.
“She’s had a long day.”
“She’s not the only one,” Evelyn sighs, “Kurt?”
He hums, and watches as she opens her mouth before closing it and shaking her head.
“I love you,” she says instead.
“You’re not ready for that conversation, are you?”
“I’m really not,” she laughs nervously.
“Neither am I,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to her temple, “I love you, Evelyn.”
She smiles, and then her shoulders start shaking with silent laughter, “minundhanem’s quite a mouthful, isn’t it?”
“I’m still fond of wife, myself,” he says, and delights in the flush to her cheeks.
Minundhanem…
Wife…
He’s not quite sure which he prefers most.
As she rests her head on his shoulder, with the gentle floral scent of her crown intertwined with the smell of the village and the fire and Evelyn herself, Kurt thinks he knows himself better than he ever has before in his life.
And he wouldn’t change it for a single thing.