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Chapter Text

Firesday, Brand 4, 1618

Alfyn fanned his hand over his neck. “Shucks, it’s hotter than I expected it to be.”

Therion nodded. The thief, while seeming to manage the climate better than Alfyn, was still sweating, having removed his purple scarf, leaving only a similarly colored bandana. “You’ve never been over here?”

Alfyn shook his head. “Never had time. I was too young before I began training with Zeph and too busy afterwards.”

“Huh. I would’ve thought that you’d visit, with it being so close to Clearbrook.”

Alfyn shrugged. “I mean, Zeph ‘n I got spices and herbs from merchants bringin’ stuff from the markets here. But I’ve never left town until now.”

The two continued walking, their feet sinking into the sand. “Alfyn, do you know what business Sunshade deals in?” Therion asked after a few quiet moments.

“I’ve heard about their tavern. Supposedly it’s got the best mead in the realm!”

Therion gave a chuckle. “Anything else?"

“Is there somethin’ I’m missing?"

Therion gave a wicked grin. “Nothing important.”

Alfyn had met the thief a week prior in Clearbrook, shortly after Nina had been bit by the blotted viper. The apothecary had been sitting on the steps leading to the graveyard when the white-haired man walked up to him and asked why he looked so glum.

Aflyn had begun to talk, the words spilling out of his mouth. He had looked down at Therion when he finished talking. The thief had been staring off into the distance, rotating the bangle around his right wrist with his left hand.

“I’m a thief. See this bangle I got? It means I fucked up.” Therion had said. He looked back at Alfyn, his gaze piercing. “I can help you with your little pest problem. On the condition that you help me on my travels.”

Alfyn had bit his lip, intimidated by Therion’s intense stare. “I’ve been thinkin’ about setting off to travel, but I dunno if I can just leave Clearbrook. But Nina needs help…”

Therion tilted his head back to the sky in thought. “It’s your choice, medicine man. But you think about whether or not you can take this viper on your own.

Alfyn had decided to take the thief up on his offer. They had easily defeated the blotted viper, and Nina had been cured. And when Alfyn had told Zeph about his wanting to leave, his friend had told him that he better go on that journey.

Now, the pair walked into the desert town of Sunshade. Half of the town was shaded by a large bluff that rose jaggedly. To the left and the right were roads leading to housing. In front of them was a sprawling market, active still in the hours of the evening. At the end of the market road stood a massive tavern, beset with glowing red stained-glass windows and a large arching doorway. 

Therion turned back towards Alfyn. “What time is it?”

Alfyn glanced at his watch. The devices were rare, seeing as they had to be imported from Solistia. His mother had saved up her money and purchased one shortly before her death from a traveling merchant. Alfyn wore it at all times to remember her. Now that he spent his time on the road, it was a handy tool. “‘Bout eight.”

Therion walked a few seconds more through the market, deftly reaching out and quickly pulling a bracelet off of the wrist of a woman. “Let’s make our way to the tavern. It’ll give us some opportunities to find out what we can do here before we set off again.”

Alfyn grinned. “You know I’m always happy to head to the tavern!”

Alfyn realized that Therion had lied about the fact that there was nothing else important about the tavern when he saw what was happening onstage. A woman in a blue top that only covered what was needed and a skirt with a thigh-high slit danced around onstage in ways that would’ve sent half of Clearbrook into a coma, her hips winding in time with the music.

Alfyn snapped out of whatever trace she had put him in and whipped his head around to look at Therion, who seemed unbothered. “What is this?” Alfyn said angrily.

Therion walked over to a nearby table and sat down, gesturing to Alfyn to follow him. “In case you hadn’t guessed by now, Sunshade runs on the business of prostitutes and dancers. The owner of this place also manages the women.” Therion waved his left hand at a worker and ordered two ales.

Alfyn slid into a seat and dropped his head into his arms. “My Ma’d kill me if she knew I was in here.”

Therion shrugged. “Just ignore them. It gets easier with practice.”

Alfyn glared at the thief. “I’m from a small town in the Riverlands. I ain’t had any practice.”

Therion laughed as a worker from the tavern set their ales down. His laugh was a low, hollow sound. “We won’t be here for long. Drink your ale. We can get to figuring out what people need help with after.”

Alfyn began to drink his ale, choking when he heard a sultry voice behind him. “Hello, sirs.” Therion clapped him on the back.

Alfyn turned around to meet the rich brown eyes of another dancer, this one clad in a red outfit that showed more skin than he’d seen in his life. “I, um, hello, ma’am.”

The dancer giggled, her long brown hair swaying as her head tipped forward slightly. “Aren’t you a gentleman,” she mused. “Tell me, young man, would you fancy spending some time with me this evening?” The dancer leaned in, jewelry clinking. She smelled of jasmine and honey.

Alfyn was fairly sure his face was as red as her garments. He cleared his throat. “It’d be rude of me not to ask for your name first.”

The woman smiled. “Primrose. And yourself?”

“Alfyn Greengrass.”

“Well then, Alfyn, won’t you take me up on my offer?”

Therion leaned over to Alfyn. “Alfyn, you don’t plan to spend the night with her, do you?”

“Course not!” Alfyn hissed. He’d never laid with a girl before, and he certainly wasn’t going to make a prostitute his first. “But she might have information about town or the people here!”

Alfyn looked back up at the dancer. If he played his cards right, he could learn about the town and spend time with her, without needing to pay. “I don’t know if I can commit to the whole evenin’, but I’d love to go for a stroll with you.”

Primrose appeared to consider it for a moment, before she held out her arm and smiled. “Very well then. Will your friend mind if we leave?”

Therion smirked. “Not at all. Have fun, Alfyn.”

The thief went back to his pint as Primrose led Alfyn outside of the tavern. She was much shorter than him, the top of her head reaching just below his chin. “Is this your first time in Sunshade?" She asked.

Alfyn nodded. “I’m from a small town in the Riverlands, so I haven’t been around Orsterra much. But my friend Therion and I, we’re travelin’. I’m an apothecary, and I’m tryin’ to help people out. He’s in, um, a bit of a bind. We’re heading to Noblecourt for some work for him.”

Alfyn felt Primrose stiffen under his arm. “Noblecourt,” she murmured. “A lovely town.”

He turned towards her. If she had been to Noblecourt before, then he could learn some more about the town. “Have ya been to Noblecourt before?”

“I have.” Her voice was distant.

“Are you alright, Miss Primrose?” He asked, concerned.

“I…yes, I am.”

“Ya don’t seem it. If you want to talk, I have a good listenin’ ear.”

Primrose let out a soft sigh. “Can you keep a secret? If Helgenish found out about this…”

Alfyn nodded earnestly. “Course I can! The only person I might tell is Therion, but he’s got secrets of his own.”

Primrose smiled wryly. “Who doesn’t?” Her eyes furtively darted around the market, and she pulled on his arm, guiding him towards a less crowded area of the town. “Ten years ago, I lived in Noblecourt. I was happy then. But one night, I was with my father in our parlor. We heard a window shatter, and my father made me hide.

“I did, and three men came into the parlor. Each of them had a mark of the crow. One on his left arm, one on his right arm, and one on his neck. They spoke with my father for a moment. Then they murdered him.”

Alfyn let out a gasp, his eyes widening. “Oh, Primrose, that’s horrible. I’m so sorry.”

Primrose smiled softly at the ground. Her eyes shone in the early evening light with the threat of tears. “I left Noblecourt to search for them to enact my revenge. Eight years ago, I found out that this town might have the means for me to find them. Helgenish, the master of the tavern, allowed me to work for him. It’s horrible here, but I must have my revenge. So I’ve stayed.”

Primrose looked back up at Alfyn. The two had made their way to a sort of balcony that overlooked the market. The balcony was shaded by the bluff that rose above the town. From there, you could see the grand front of the tavern, its red stained-glass windows gleaming in the fading sun. “Yesterday, I saw a man that had the mark of the crow on his arm. He asked Helgenish to bring him girls to a location on a map.” The dancer released Alfyn’s arm and leaned on the railing that protected the pair from falling to the streets below. “I must find that map, Alfyn. I would go to any lengths to seize it.”

Alfyn felt his heart ache for the woman beside him. “Therion and I can help you!” He blurted, without much thought. Primrose looked up at him, shocked.

“Really? You would do that?” She asked, surprised.

Alfyn smiled earnestly. “I’m travelin’ around the continent to help people. This seems like a situation that’s worth my time. And Therion won’t mind extra company, long as you give him space when he asks for it.”

Primrose smiled. “Are you sure?” She asked. “This is my problem, not yours.”

“I wouldn’t mind making it my problem too.”

“If you really wish to help me, meet me here tomorrow at nine. That’s when Helgenish will begin moving the girls.”

Alfyn held out his hand. “It’s a deal.”

Chapter Text

Frostsday, Brand 17, 1618

“So I’ll go with Olberic and Therion to get supplies for our journey to Noblecourt. And we’ll stop at Atlasdam along the way, right?” Tressa, the party’s newest addition, was a veritable bundle of energy. She was ecstatic to be traveling with the group, and Primrose was glad to have her. She was incredible at bartering, which would save them leaves and hopefully reduce their need for Therion to steal.

Primrose nodded. “Then we’ll make our way west, and we’ll know where to go after Quarrycrest. While you three go shop, I suppose Alfyn and I can explore the town.”

Tressa grinned. “This place’s wonderful! You’ll love it!”

The trio set off to the Rippletide shops, leaving Primrose with Alfyn. Primrose turned to him. “Well then, Alfyn, what do you propose we do?”

The two had formed a sort of friendship following the battle with Helgenish. As he had healed her wounds behind a crag while Therion stood guard, he had held her while she cried over Yusufa. “I-I didn’t even like working there,” the dancer had sobbed. “I j-just don’t know what comes next. What I’m gonna do now that Helgenish is d-dead.”

The apothecary had given her a reassuring smile as he rubbed a salve into a gash below her floating rib. Helgenish’s hired guard had been more trouble than she anticipated. She was glad Alfyn and Therion had joined her. The thief was ruthless with his dagger and sword. “Well, you’ll go to Stillsnow, with me and Therion. Simple as that.”

Now, Alfyn flashed a much brighter grin. He looked much happier in the cooler environment of the Coastlands than he had in Sunshade’s sweltering heat. “I’ve got an idea. C’mon, Prim.” The apothecary grabbed her wrist and the two began to traverse the town.

Primrose let him lead her to a clothes shop. She turned towards him, an amused expression on her face. “A seamstress, Alfyn?”

“C’mon, Prim, hear me out. Travelin’ through the Frostlands in that getup ain’t gonna be fun.” He gestured towards her dancing ensemble. “And it catches people’s eyes. And not always in a good way. The way Mikk and Makk looked at ya…It’s a good thing Captain Leon drove ‘em off.”

Primrose crossed her arms. He made good arguments, but the clothes were almost a comfort. They were useful sometimes. “I’m used to stares. I’ve worn these for eight years. I’ll just buy clothes in Atlasdam or Noblecourt.”

Alfyn sighed. “We’re already here, Prim. Please, let me help ya out.”

Primrose sighed. “Very well. I suppose it’ll help our group remain unnoticed when we need to help Therion with his heists. And it will be nice to be warm in Stillsnow.”

“You can still keep your dancin’ clothes,” Alfyn said as the duo walked into the shop, a bell ringing above. “But now you’ll have options!”

“Hello there!” A woman called from behind the counter, walking over to them. She was the girl that lad Tony had wanted to marry. “My name is Mathilda. What brings you two in today?”

“I’d like to get some new dresses,” Primrose said. She looks like Bridget, that girl that ‘left’ after two years.

Mathilda beamed. “Wonderful!” She glanced over Primrose’s current outfit, eyebrows furrowing slightly. “Would you like something similar to what you’re currently wearing, or…”

“She’d like something more, um, covering,” Alfyn interjected, his face taking on a light blush.

“Alright.” Mathilda led Primrose to an area near the back of the shop, with shelves full of dresses in all sorts of colors.. Alfyn stayed behind near the entrance. “We have some cotton dresses over here that are a fairly common style all around Orsterra. They can be worn by themselves or with a vest or corset.” She pulled one off of the shelf. “Would you mind trying this on? It looks like it’ll fit, but I can make alterations if it doesn’t.”

Primrose nodded and stepped behind a curtain into a small room, adorned with a small stool and a mirror. She slid out of her dancer’s clothes and stared at herself in the mirror. Ever since she had begun traveling, her form was more muscular, thanks to the constant walking and the fights they had with monsters. The changes weren’t drastic, but Helgenish would have hated it. He liked, as he called in, “meat on your bones”. Primrose bit her lip as she remembered how much he loved hers. She could feel the phantom touch of his hands all over her.

She quickly pulled on the dress. It was a simple style, with cream-colored sleeves that flared out and tapered into a cuff at her wrists, much like the harem pants Helgenish had once bought from Marsalim. The dress hugged her torso and draped out over her hips. The fabric felt lightweight over her skin, but it would also be warm in the cold of the Frostlands.

Primrose stepped out from behind the curtain, holding her dancing clothes. “I like it,” she said, smiling.

Mathilda clapped. “Oh, it does look lovely on you!” The shopkeeper turned towards Alfyn, who was sitting in an armchair, reading a book on the flora of the Coastlands. “Sir, what do you think of the lady?”

Alfyn looked up, a piece of hair flopping over the right side of his face. He looked over the dress admiringly, smiling when he met her gaze again. “It’s great, Prim.”

Primrose smiled at the praise. “I’d like three, please.”

Mathilda nodded and pulled two more off of the shelf, setting them in a small bag. “Would you like any corsets or vests? I can’t provide corsets myself; a colleague in Atlasdam makes them custom. I have some vests, however."

Primrose bit her lip as she set her dancing clothes in the bag. Even though she had hated wearing her red costume for the men of the tavern, she was used to showing off her body. It felt odd, dressing modestly. “I’ll be traveling to Atlasdam. I’d like it if you could order a black corset.” The color would go with any other clothes she purchased, and it wouldn’t stand out too much. And it would show her figure off. “And I’d like a blue vest and a red vest.”

Mathilda nodded and grabbed two vests, each a vibrant color, setting them in the bag. “I’ll have to take your measurements for the corset.”

Primrose nodded. Mathilda took her measurements and jotted them down on a piece of paper. “The corset should be ready this Levinsday or so. The total for your items is 5,000 leaves.”

Alfyn came up next to Primrose, digging his hand into a pocket of his satchel and pulling out a coinpurse. “I’ve got it, Prim."

Primrose smiled. “Thank you, Alfyn.”

The apothecary paid, and the pair walked out of the shop. Primrose set her bag down on a nearby barrel and pulled the blue vest out of the bag, looking over the tailoring admiringly. “It’s a beautiful color,” Alfyn said, as the dancer buttoned the vest over her dress. “It looks like the color Yusufa wore.”

Primrose froze for a moment. “It is,” she said, her voice distant. Yusufa loved the color blue . She had dyed it navy shortly after she arrived when she was angry at Helgenish. He had tried to turn it positive, making her the blue girl. But she never lost love for the color. And now she wasn’t here to gasp excitedly at Primrose’s purchase. Her eyes were watering. When had that happened?

Alfyn’s face shifted into an expression of concern. “C’mere, Prim.” The apothecary wrapped his arms around her as began to softly cry into his chest. “I’m sorry I brought her up.”

“I can’t stop thinking of the place!” Primrose sobbed into Alfyn’s shirt. “I don’t want anything more than to leave it all in the past, but I just can’t forget it.”

Alfyn rubbed circles into her back. “The tavern was a hard place for ya, Prim. You aren’t gonna be able to just forget it, even if you want to. But I’m here for you, and so is everyone else in our merry band. The memories will fade someday.”

Alfyn continued to console her until she managed to compose herself. Primrose pulled back from the apothecary, wiping her eyes with the back of her palm. “Thank you, Alfyn. You are ever the gentleman.”

Alfyn smiled. “Course, Prim. Come see me if you’re ever sad, alright? I’ll always have a listenin’ ear.”

Primrose nodded and managed a weak smile. “Alright.”

Chapter Text

Levinsday, Brand 27, 1618

Tressa had just returned from the Flamesgrace inn with Olberic and Cyrus, who each held several fluffy winter coats. “The rooms are booked for the night!” The young merchant announced to the tavern.

Primrose smiled at the young girl’s enthusiasm. She wondered if she had ever been like that before her father had died, before the world smiled and showed her all of its darkest parts. Before a thousand men saw what only one should have.

Cyrus handed some of the coats to her and Alfyn. Primrose received a dark red one that complemented the vest she currently wore over another of her new dresses. Alfyn, who sat next to her, grabbed a dark green one that matched his apothecary’s vest. He also grabbed a purple one, presumably for Therion. The two men were good friends. Primrose wished had something like that. She’d had a friend like that, before she had been struck through the heart.

Cyrus sat down in a chair across from Primrose. “I hope Therion returns from his rounds soon. Is this longer than it normally takes him?”

Tressa nodded. “When we went to Atlasdam, it only took 30 minutes for him to find all the goods he wanted. Then we all walked around and then we found you.” She sat down next to Cyrus, an empty chair on her right side that Therion would likely take when he returned.

Olberic sat down next to Cyrus and Alfyn. “Maybe he’s looking for the next member of the prophecy.”

Alfyn chewed his lip. “I hope not. Cyrus ‘n I are much better at gettin’ information about people than him.”

Primrose smiled at the bartender, gesturing for six drinks to be delivered to them. She likely wouldn’t drink, but someone would be able to take her pint. Tressa was below the age of drinking, but she insisted on receiving a tankard at all the taverns they visited. She didn’t even like mead all that much. Someone else would receive hers right after she had a sip. “Yes, you two are more conversational, but Therion is leagues better at flirting than anyone else here. Except for me, of course. And sometimes, flirting is just what you need to find somebody.”

“Primrose, dear, the prophecy states that we only need a hunter and a cleric to complete the party of legend.” Cyrus nodded at the bartender in thanks for his pint that had recently arrived, before turning back to Primrose. “As we are in a holy city, it’s likely we’d find our cleric here. And clerics typically are either celibate or resigned to members of the church. As charming as our thief is, I doubt that his charms will find the person we need.”

Primrose shrugged and took a sip of her mead, shuddering at the strong taste. She set the pint down and handed it to Alfyn. She had learned at the Cobbleston tavern that the apothecary could be quite the heavy drinker. Afterwards, she began to give whatever remained of her drink to him. Alfyn smiled in thanks.

Just then, the door of the tavern slammed open, snowflakes whirling inside. Despite the fact that summer had recently arrived, the Frostlands were still frigid. Even at the height of Steorra, the temperature was rumored to still be low enough to warrant coats in the evenings, which didn’t bode well for her eventual trip to Stillsnow.

Therion entered the room, eyes locking onto the table that housed the travelers. He entered the room with a cocky grin, followed by a shy blonde woman dressed in clerical clothes.

“Sealticge’s Grace, Cyrus, he might’ve done it!” Tressa said excitedly as the two walked up to the table, the woman much more hesitant than Therion.

“If you’re talking about finding another of the prophesied, Tress, then yes, I did do it. Thanks for the apparent belief in me, Cyrus.” Therion leaned on the empty chair next in between Primrose and Tressa. “Everybody, this is Ophilia. She’s a cleric, and based on what she told me, fits the bill of what we’re looking for.” The thief smiled smugly and looked at Cyrus. “What do you think about that, Professor?”

Ophilia cleared her throat softly. “Therion, thank you for bringing me here, but I really must be going. I have to set out soon. I know you said that your friends could help, but this prophecy business sounds dangerous.”

Primrose looked up at Ophilia. The cleric reminded Primrose of the girls who were new to Sunshade. She was like Yusufa when she was first bought. The dancer held out her hand, golden bracelets clanking on her wrist. “I’m Primrose, Ophilia. Lovely to meet you. And you shouldn’t worry. This won’t take long.”

Ophilia looked down at Primrose’s hand, then her face, before slowly extending a gloved hand and shaking it. “It’s lovely to meet you as well.”

Cyrus held up a hand. Despite the professor’s calm demeanor, he was quite capable of being formidable, as Primrose had seen when they faced Russell under the Royal Academy. Even a simple act such as raising a hand was enough to silence the group. “Miss Ophilia, would you mind sharing with us what exactly your quest is? As much as I would prefer to believe him, Therion is not exactly the most trustworthy of fellows.”

Tressa began to laugh as Therion’s jaw dropped. “What the fuck did I ever do to you, Cyrus?”

“Besides stealing his notebook right before we helped him catch a criminal?” Alfyn asked the thief, cackling. Ophilia cracked a small smile, her eyes darting around the table.

“You also tried to steal my spare swords from my house after agreeing to aid me,” Olberic added, his eyes alight with happiness.

“I didn’t know that was your house! And I thought we agreed to leave that in the past!” Therion yelled, red crawling up his face. “Aelfric, none of you know when to let something go.”

“We’re just teasing, Therion,” Primrose said, patting him on the forearm. “Now, Ophilia, what exactly do you need to do?”

Ophilia brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “I will try to be concise. My adoptive father is the Archbishop Josef, and he has recently taken ill. My sister, Lianna, is supposed to begin the rite of the Kindling tomorrow, but she is greatly affected by this news, moreso than anyone else. I am going to partake in the pilgrimage in her stead.”

Tressa’s eyes were wide, and her jaw hung low. “Gods above, Ophilia!”

Cyrus pulled his notebook out of his satchel, flipping to the page that spoke of the prophecy. His brow furrowed. “As you all know, the prophecy is rather vague…but I believe our cleric could easily qualify for the role.”

“I’m sorry, but what even is this prophecy you speak of?” Ophilia asked hesitantly.

Cyrus grinned. “I am, or, well, was, a professor at the Royal Academy of Atlasdam. About six years ago, in my readings, I encountered a prophecy. I thought nothing of it, but I wrote it down nonetheless. But then Therion, Alfyn, Primrose, Olberic, and Tressa arrived in town, and I realized they must be who the prophecy spoke of! And I also fit into a line in the prophecy. My dear, I believe you do as well.”

“You ought to read her the damn prophecy, what with all your talking about it,” Olberic remarked, taking a sip from Tressa’s tankard. It seemed the warrior had been the one to receive the drink.

“Ah, yes.” Cyrus cleared his throat before reading. “ In the year of the Kindling, forward the gods shall bring, eight heroes of power and might, to partake in an ancient fight. A cleric searching for light, a scholar looking for truth. A merchant wishing for treasure, a warrior yearning for redemption. A dancer living for revenge, an apothecary traveling for succor. A thief working for freedom, and a huntress fighting for master. Champions of the rings, facing struggles the outer ring brings. And through the gate will fight, the eight of power and might. We’ve found all but the cleric and the huntress, currently. But we have our cleric now, it seems.”

Ophilia was staring at Cyrus, her mouth forming a small circle. “I…I find this difficult to believe.”

“It’s news for sure!” Alfyn said. “But you sure seem as though you’re a part of the prophecy. And we’d all enjoy having you travel with us. We’ll even help with your pilgrimage!”

“Therion’ll be especially glad to help you,” Tressa added, grinning. The merchant and the thief had a relationship that was mostly composed of threats, bickering, teasing, and arguing about their different professions.

“Tressa Colzione, I will murder you,” Therion growled, hands tightening on the wood of the chair.

Ophilia swallowed nervously, glancing around the table, before looking back at Therion. “I don’t exactly know what this all means…but I will accept the help that’s being offered.” She turned back to the rest of the group. “May the Flame bless you all for your generosity. Now then, we really must be going to the Cave of Origin.”

Chapter Text

Windsday, Sealticge 8, 1618

Primrose breathed in the crisp forest air of the Woodlands slowly. After all, their group would be traveling down to Bolderfall later that afternoon, and the dusty climate of the Cliftlands was sure to be harsher on the lungs.

H’aanit, the most recent addition to the group of travelers that Tressa had decided to call “The Prophesied”, was standing a few feet ahead of Primrose, her snow leopard, Linde, following close behind. The duo had decided to head into the woods north of S’warkii to search for food that they could prepare for the journey ahead.

Now that the eight members of the prophecy were found, the party had met in H’aanit’s house and discussed their plans. They decided that they would travel down to Bolderfall to rest and equip themselves with better gear, as S’warkii only had hunter’s equipment. The trip would also allow Therion to ask the Ravuses if they had any information that could help any of the other travelers. After the brief respite, they would travel to Victors Hollow in pursuit of Erhardt, and then travel eastward around Orsterra towards Stillsnow and beyond. While Cyrus did wish to travel to Quarrycrest to seek out Odette and From the Far Reaches of Hell , he had agreed that his quest was less pressing than Primrose’ and Therion’s. And Tressa had agreed that the mysterious author of her journal could wait until later.

The sound of H’aanit nocking an arrow startled Primrose out of her thoughts. The dancer looked up and noticed a deer grazing a few feet away. H’aanit let the arrow fly, piercing the deer in the neck. The deer collapsed to the forest floor, and Linde ran forward, pouncing on the creature. A few moments later, the animal lay dead. The huntress approached the felled animal, bowing her head and murmuring softly.

“What are you saying?” Primrose asked, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between the two.

“A prayer to Draefendi. I aske that she blessen the life of thy deer, as it hast given its life so mine may continuen.” The huntress slung her bow on her back and picked up the deer. “This shall doe for nowe.”

H’aanit slung the deer over her shoulders. The two began to walk back in the direction of S’warkii, Linde trailing behind. “Primrose…thou art familiar with men, are thy not?” The huntress asked after a few moments.

Primrose exhaled slowly, caught off guard by the question. Despite that it had now been a month since she had left Sunshade behind, the tavern and what it had done to her always seemed to pop up when she didn’t expect it. “Yes.” Linde, sensing the dancer’s discomfort, rubbed her head against Primrose’s calf. Primrose reached down to pet the leopard.

“Are the men in thy group…honorable?” H’aanit asked. The huntress had a slight blush across her face. “Compared to thy formeren patrons.”

Primrose nodded. “If you are asking whether they would partake in my business, none of them would. Therion is a thief, but he has some morals. He didn’t do anything in Sunshade, despite having ample opportunity. Olberic’s honor as a knight means he would never, and Cyrus is simply not the type to engage in those activities. Alfyn, bless his heart, is such a country boy. I flirted with him in Sunshade and he just about had a heart attack. So yes, I’d call them honorable in that sense. Why do you ask?”

H’aanit stared ahead, thinking of a response as she bit her lip. “I…may find one of thy companions attractive.”

Primrose gasped. “Oh, really? Who? I promise that I won’t tell.”

“Thy professor.”

Primrose turned towards H’aanit, surprised. “Cyrus? Truly?”

H’aanit’s face was bright red. “I…he ist well spokenst. And he ist attractive, and kind."

Primrose smiled. It had been ages since she had talked about crushes with someone. When Yusufa had first arrived at the tavern, she would talk about men that she thought were attractive, but after Yusufa’s first few times, the charm had faded fast. “He is kind and rather smart, but he’s incredibly oblivious, H’aanit! One of his students at the Royal Academy, Therese, is hopelessly in love with him. When she tried to confess, he assumed that she needed more time for her studies!” Primrose laughed as she thought of the memory. The girl almost deserved the rejection, after she had gotten the professor kicked out of the Academy. “What I’m saying is that you’ll have to be rather direct.”

“I doth not mind being directen. Thine professor wilt be worthen it.” H’aanit looked at the dancer and smiled. “What abouteth thee, Primrose? Who dost thou finden to be worthy of thine charms?”

Primrose faltered. She never really had felt drawn to people by their looks. The last time she loved, her adoration of his smile and silver hair came after her admiration of his silver tongue. “...If I had to say, it would be Alfyn.”

H’aanit blinked a few times in surprise. “Thine apothecary?”

Primrose nodded. “I don’t really know if I am attracted to him, but if it were to be someone, it would be him. Therion is too much like me, and Olberic is far too old. Alfyn is kind, he’s handsome, and he’s quite knowledgeable. I…I could see myself loving him.”

H’aanit smiled. “I hopen that thy doth find love withest him, if thou wishes. He ist a kinde man.”

The two settled into a comfortable silence as they neared S’warkii, a woodcutter’s shack signaling that the town’s entrance was near. “H’aanit…I’m sure I don’t need to tell you this, but we ought to keep this knowledge between the two of us.”

“Of course, Primrose.”

Tressa ran towards the two from the direction of the woods. “H’aanit! Primrose! You got a deer!” The young merchant turned her head back towards the area in front of the inn. “Told ya they’d find somethin’ big, Therion!”

Therion glared at H’aanit as the two reached the party. They were all preparing their bags for the journey ahead. “Seriously, huntress? Now I owe the brat three hundred leaves.”

“I apologize that thou didst doubten mine hunting abilities,” H’aanit said, smirking.

Primrose smiled as Therion and H’aanit began to bicker. She was fitting into the group well already. The huntress gave the deer to Tressa, who carried it into the inn to be cooked. Ophilia followed the young merchant inside, and Linde trailed after the cleric, likely enticed by the smell of the deer. Meanwhile, Olberic, Cyrus, and Alfyn attempted to store the party’s luggage.

“I do believe, Sir Olberic, that we might have more room for things if you sold some of your spare blades,” Cyrus told the warrior.

“I agree, Your Lordship,” Alfyn added. “Everyone’s gotta make a sacrifice. I need to pick a lot more of my ingredients fresh now ‘cause Therion made me throw ‘em away so we’d have room in our bags.”

“But what if my current blade tarnishes or is destroyed?” Olberic countered.

“We are stopping in Bolderfall,” Primrose said, joining the conversation as she leaned against the wall of the inn. “If you need something then, I’m sure they’ll have adequate equipment. And Victors Hollow is sure to have plenty of weapons. In the worst case, borrow Therion’s sword. He hardly uses it, and he’ll still have his daggers.”

Olberic sighed. “Very well. Cyrus, come with me. I can hardly understand these Woodland folk, what with their ancient language.”

The warrior and the scholar walked towards the village armory, leaving Primrose behind with Alfyn. “Did you and H’aanit have a good time huntin’?” The apothecary asked, shoving one of Tressa’s vests into her pack. 

Primrose nodded. “It was lovely to talk to her and get to know her.” The dancer grabbed her bag and began to check that all of her belongings were secure.

“I’ll bet!” Alfyn said. “What did y’all end up talkin’ about?”

Primrose smiled. Oh, how he would blush if he knew. “Nothing that you need to worry about.”

Chapter Text

Darksday, Sealticge 18, 1618

Alfyn let out a sigh as he looked down into his tankard, now empty of ale. He had downed it quickly in the hopes of trying to forget the events of the evening, but it didn’t seem to be working. The memories were loud and insistent, a sharp contrast from the tense silence between the travelers.

Gods, how had everything turned so awful so quickly? Alfyn knew that at some point the group would have gotten into an argument. It was foolish to think that a group of eight would be able to avoid squabbles for months on end. But Therion hadn’t just started a petty fight. He had insulted Ophilia’s faith and Olberic’s liege. And then Ophilia had run off, leaving Primrose, H’aanit, and Tressa to follow her to ensure her safe arrival in Victors Hollow. Eventually, the party had managed to all meet at the tavern, but there was still a visible division between them all. Primrose, H’aanit, Ophilia, and Tressa sat near the tavern stage, where Primrose was due to dance later. Alfyn sat near the door with Olberic and Cyrus, while Therion sulked against a wall near the bar.

Alfyn looked at Ophilia. She was smiling as Tressa talked animatedly, but he could see the hurt in her eyes. It was the same expression Primrose had worn when she was at the Sunshade tavern. Sometimes that expression crossed over the dancer’s face when she thought nobody was looking.

If Therion didn’t apologize, then the remainder of their journey would be marked by the tension between the two halves of the group. With a sigh, Alfyn stood up from the table, earning a confused glance from Cyrus. The apothecary walked over to Therion, sidling up next to him.

“Hey,” the apothecary said, smiling down at the thief.

“Are you gonna ask me to fuck too?” Therion asked, staring at a man at the table adjacent to the girls’.

“Has that happened a lot?” Alfyn asked, surprised.

“Two random girls and the barmaid.” Therion took a swig of his drink.

“Must be how friendly you look,” Alfyn said, grinning. “You’re just radiating positivity.”

Therion glared at him. “Real funny,” he muttered, turning his gaze back to the tavern floor.

“What did you say?” Alfyn asked after a moment. “To the girls.”

“No. We’re here to help Olberic find Gustav. Getting into bed with some wench won’t help, even if the distraction would be nice.”

“Good choice. Now, just outta curiosity, where was that kind of decision makin’ earlier?"

Therion let out a sharp laugh. “That’s what this is about. I should’ve guessed. Fuck, I’m getting bad at reading people’s motivations.” He shook his head and drank again.

Alfyn side-eyed the thief. “Of course that’s what it’s ‘bout. Ya can’t seriously believe nobody was goin’ to talk to you about this.”

“A man can dream,” Therion replied. “But I’m not surprised it’s you. The other possibility was Primrose. The two of ‘em are close.”

“Therion, you insulted Ophilia’s faith. The faith that she’s goin’ on a pilgrimage across Orsterra for.” Alfyn said the words slowly, like how one would speak to a child.

“I know, Alfyn. Believe me, I’ve had plenty of time to think about how bad I fucked up. I know it was stupid.” Therion’s tone was sharp.

“Why’d you do it?” Alfyn asked.

“I wanted Cyrus to shut his fucking mouth. I hate the fact that he always has to lecture us about anything we talk about.” Therion ran a hand through his hair. “And…I’m tired of everyone praising the gods, like I said. They don’t do jack shit.”

“Care to say more?” Alfyn asked.

“I…” Therion trailed off, staring at Ophilia. She was currently petting Linde, who had been let into the tavern only after H’aanit and Olberic threatened the bouncer. “Don’t ask. Please. I trust you, Alf…but trust doesn’t always work out.”

Alfyn looked at the thief. His free hand was clenched into a fist. For the first time since Alfyn had met him, he wasn’t as guarded and cocky as he always was. His eyes were unfocused, like they were seeing a memory instead of the scene in front of them. “Alright,” Alfyn said.

The two stood in silence for a few moments. Therion’s knuckles were white, his hand gripping the handle of his tankard firmly. 

“You know you have to apologize to Phili.” Alfyn said after Therion’s grip seemed to have loosened.

“I know. I feel like I’m gonna fuck that up too. I’m not used to apologies.” Therion drained the rest of his tankard and set it on the floor next to him, the chain of his bangle chiming as they hit the wall.

“Maybe. But if ya don’t do anything, we might not be able to stay safe. Havin’ us all divided makes it a lot more likely that monsters’ll mess us up.”

“I know, Alfyn. Why do you think I’ve been drinking so much? This stuff is called liquid courage for a reason.”

Alfyn was startled out of their conversation as a round of applause began. Primrose walked onstage. She had decided to dance on the tavern stage in order to earn a few extra leaves. Lodgings in Victors Hollow were expensive during the fighting season.

Alfyn stared at her. She had changed into her red dancing clothes, the soft curves of her body on display. Her brown hair was in a ponytail again, like it had been the first time they met. When traveling, she usually braided it, like H’aanit did. Her golden bangles clanked against each other as she raised her arms above her head. Her smile was bright. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her this happy.

The tavern fiddler began to play, and her hips began to sway. She extended a long leg, her hip cocking as she smirked. She twirled around the stage, her brown eyes sparkling in the lanternlight. Alfyn felt like he could spend an eternity watching her.

Therion snickered beside him. “Oh boy, Alfyn.”

Alfyn turned towards the thief, snapped out of his reverie. “What?”

Therion had a wicked grin. “You don’t get to talk to me about girls and how bad I am with them and proceed to ogle Primrose.”

Alfyn’s face flushed red. “I’m not ogling her! She’s just…I’m watchin’ her dance.”

Therion’s grin widened. “Yeah, and you’re also thinking about how you’d like to get under that red skirt of hers. I get it. She’s a pretty girl.”

Alfyn’s face grew hotter. “Yeah, she’s beautiful, but…”

Therion laughed loudly. Alfyn saw Ophilia’s head turn toward them before quickly looking away. “Real convincing argument. Listen, there’s nothing wrong with admiring a girl. But you know Primrose’s been through shit.”

“I know she has. I’m not goin’ to be her lover. I would probably just end up hurting her more.”

Therion shook his head, chuckling slowly. “Oh boy. With that kinda response, it won’t be long before you’re on one knee.”

“Shut up! Besides, you still haven’t apologized to Ophilia.”

“I’ll do it when Primrose is done. She’d kill me if I interrupted her performance. I’d like not to be practice for whoever’s waiting in Stillsnow.”

Alfyn and Therion settled into a silence as Primrose continued to dance, her hair swaying in time with her hips. “Alf…if you ever do get with her…you’d be good for her. She needs someone different from Helgenish and the guys in Sunshade. A good person. I’d say you fit the bill.”

Alfyn turned to Therion in surprise at his words as the music ended. He looked back up and watched Primrose bow, a smile spreading across her face. Someone in the crowd whistled. Alfyn clapped as she walked offstage, a spring in her step.

Therion gave Alfyn a pat on the shoulder. “Alright, Alfyn. Thanks for the talk. Wish me luck.” With that, the thief walked towards Ophilia’s table, leaving Alfyn to think about his words.

Chapter Text

Windsday, Sealticge 26, 1618

Alfyn waited to knock on Primrose’s door until he saw Ophilia leave the inn, rapping the door three short times. It was how he and Zeph both knocked back in Clearbrook. When you heard that knock, you knew the apothecary was coming over.

“Come in,” he heard her say.

Alfyn opened the door and saw Primrose lying down on her bed. Her braid was undone, her chocolate brown hair spreading around her head like a halo. She had removed the red vest that she typically wore, and her red dancing outfit hung up on the wall. “Heya, Prim,” he said, tentatively sitting on the edge of Ophilia’s bed.

The dancer sat up as she heard his voice. “Oh. Alfyn. Hello. I wasn’t expecting it to be you.”

“Who were you expecting?”

Primrose shrugged. “I don’t really know. Tressa, maybe. I can tell she wants to ask me all sorts of questions about Arianna and House Azelhart.”

Alfyn smiled. The young merchant had endless curiosity, and had been talking to Primrose about her status as nobility every day since she had revealed it in Victors Hollow. “Well, I’m not here to ask ya as many questions as she would. Just a couple.”

Primrose’s lips quirked into a smile. “Very well.” She patted the side of the bed next to her. “Come over here, then.”

Alfyn obliged, sitting down next to her. He turned towards her, gazing down into her deep brown eyes. “Prim…are you feelin’ alright?” He asked.

Her eyes softened. Alfyn hadn’t realized how guarded she always was. She inhaled slowly, her breath slightly shaky. “I…I am unsure. Arianna has made me remember my father. And it always makes me sad, thinking about him. And seeing what she has to do now…”

Alfyn nodded. “It’s horrible that both of ya had to do that stuff.”

Primrose smiled wryly. “It’s ironic. Two women from the most esteemed house in the Flatlands, working as whores because it’s fallen. Father would’ve hated that his death caused this.”

Alfyn reached out his hand and rested it upon hers. “I get it. If you wanna talk more…”

Primrose’s left hand clenched into a fist. "It's just so frustrating! Arianna is an angel, and she has to work with these horrible men, just so the left crow can make more money! It’s disgusting!”

Alfyn nodded. “It’s horrible. But tomorrow we’ll get rid of the crow.”

Tears were welling in Primrose’s eyes. “I’m worried about that plan. I worry about Therion and Cyrus at the parlor tomorrow, and I’m worried about Ophilia and Tressa. They’re both so naïve, and now they have to be exposed to some of the worst people in the world. And what if I fail? What if I fail my father, and the crow kills me too?”

“Primrose.” Alfyn spoke her name in a firm tone. She looked up at him. “You aren’t gonna die, and you aren’t gonna fail. Therion and Cyrus are goin’ to be just fine at the parlor. Yeah, maybe Ophilia and Tressa ain’t gonna like what they see an’ hear at the parlor, but that’s a part of growin’ up. I promise you, Prim, it’s all going to work out. We have your back.”

Primrose threw her arms around him, sobbing into his chest. Alfyn froze for a moment, before carefully wrapping his arms around her back.

After a few moments, she pulled her head off of his chest. Her eyes were still wet with tears, and her face was red and splotchy. She was still beautiful. She always was.

“Thank you, Alfyn,” she said, sniffling. “I always seem to end up crying in your arms.”

Alfyn smiled at her. “Hey, as long as I’m not makin’ ya cry, you can do it as much as ya need!”

Primrose smiled. “You’re too kind for this world,” she said.

Alfyn gave her a pat on the back before standing. “I should probably get to sleep, and you should too. Unless you want me to stay?”

Primrose shook her head. “No, I should rest. Ophilia will probably be back soon too, and I don’t want her to have to listen to us.”

Alfyn nodded. “Right then. Sleep well, Primrose. Good night.”

“Good night, Alfyn.”

Chapter Text

Frostsday, Sealticge 29, 1618

Primrose walked out of the tent she shared with Ophilia smiling, her cheeks pink with the Frostlands cold. They had left Stillsnow the day before, having dispatched the left crow, Rufus. Now, they were headed east to Noblecourt, where the next crow and the ruby dragonstone were located.

“Good morning, Primrose,” Cyrus said, shoving the tent he shared with Olberic into the warrior’s pack.

“Good morning, Cyrus,” Primrose said, walking towards the fire Therion had lit during his watch. She curled her fingers as tendrils of dark magic weaved through the air and snuffed the remaining embers. She had learned the dances that she used in combat and dark magic from a book she took with her from the Azelhart estate. Soon she’d be able to return it.

“Morning, Prim!” Tressa said, walking over. “You sure look chipper today!”

Primrose smiled as she stood, feet crunching in the snow. “It’s my birthday.”

Tressa gasped, her mouth dropping into a circle. “Oh my gosh!” She turned back towards the camp, raising her voice. “Everyone! It’s Primrose’s birthday!”

Alfyn’s head whipped towards them, a grin on his face. “Really, Prim?”

The dancer nodded. “I’m twenty-four now.”

“Shit, you’re older than I am,” Therion said in surprise.

“How old art thou?” H’aanit asked, stroking Linde’s fur.

“Twenty-two. Not that it really matters. I don’t celebrate my birthday or anything.”

“Why not?” Ophilia asked.

The thief shrugged. “I don’t know the exact date. It’s sometime in Aeber. And when you’re trying to live on the streets, getting excited about being a year older isn’t a high priority.”

Alfyn walked up to Therion and flung his arm around the thief’s shoulders. “Well, now that you’re with us, we’ll have to celebrate! What’ll we do for Prim?”

“I can hunteth something specialen,” H’aanit said, slinging her bow around her back. “I woulde gladly maken thy birthday moren enjoyable, Primrose.”

Primrose beamed. It had been a while since she had felt so loved by someone. Not since her father had died. Not since a gardner with silver hair had read her poetry. She exhaled slowly, breathing the memories of Noblecourt out. “That sounds lovely. Thank you all so much.”

Primrose watched as Cyrus waved his hand and lit the campfire in front of them. Even though it was late Sealticge, the Frostlands were still frigid, especially in the evenings. They had stopped their travels earlier than they typically did today, taking shelter under a crag that would hopefully shield them from any falling snow or rain. H’aanit had gone out to hunt with Olberic, who had been learning to hunt as well.

Ophilia sat down next to her. “Are you excited that it’s your birthday?” The cleric asked.

Primrose nodded. “Back in Sunshade, nobody celebrated my birthday. Most of the dancers didn’t like me because Helgenish did. But it’s nice to be here with people who care about me.”

Ophilia smiled. “I’m glad for you.”

“Bifelgan’s Bounty! That’s a big one!” Tressa exclaimed. Primrose looked over towards where the merchant was and saw H’aanit and Olberic walking back over, the huntress holding a rabbit and a deer slung on the warrior’s back.

“Damn!” Alfyn exclaimed. “Good work, you two!"

“Thanketh thee,” H’aanit said, smiling as she set the rabbit down by the fire. “We shall curen this one. It shall lasteth longeren that wayeth.”

Alfyn began to help H’aanit cook. The huntress was an amazing chef, and Alfyn wasn’t half bad. Primrose chatted with Ophilia, Therion joining them after a few minutes. Across the campfire, Tressa, Cyrus, and Olberic talked, probably about their planned route to Noblecourt. There wasn’t a direct route from Stillsnow there, so they would be backtracking to Victors Hollow, S’warkii, Flamesgrace, and Atlasdam. They hoped to avoid spending time in those towns. It would be easier if they could slip through unnoticed.

Primrose sipped water from her canteen, looking over at Ophilia and Therion. The thief was teasing the cleric, causing her to blush. He had been doing that more and more lately. The two of them were cute together. She’d talk to Ophilia about the pair later. For now, she was content to watch the flickering embers of the campfire.

“Dinner’s ready!” Alfyn said, snapping the dancer out of her reverie.

“Fuck yes!” Therion reached towards the campfire to grab a piece of deer, but H’aanit swatted his hand away.

“Primrose doth getten the first pick,” the huntress said.

“Thank you, H’aanit.” Primrose grabbed a section of the deer and a slice of the bread they saved for the difficult days when they had to fight a lot. Or the days that were special.

Everyone took their meals and began to eat. Tressa was the first one to speak up. “Prim, what did you do to celebrate your birthday in Noblecourt?”

“My father, the staff, and I would have a big dinner. On my thirteenth birthday, he held a ball.” That had been only a few months before he was murdered.

“You’re so lucky!” Tressa exclaimed. “On my eighteenth birthday, my parents just got me some new clothes and said I was officially a merchant.”

Primrose felt cold shoot through her veins at the mention of an eighteenth birthday. She bit her lip, trying to block the memories from rushing back to her. They didn’t listen. They were a clamor in her head, growing louder and louder.

Primrose had been resting in the dormitories. It was her birthday, after all. She deserved some rest. And business was always slower in the summer. People didn’t want to go through the Sunlands when it was boiling hot.

If her father was alive, she would’ve been at a big ball now, meeting men she might marry. Instead, she was in a clay building in the Sunlands, waiting for the stagehand to ferry her to the tavern.

“Primrose!” Helgenish said, startling her.

She sat up quickly. “Master.” She sunk into a low curtsy.

“What are you doing laying around when you could be dancing?” He asked. Helgenish was not a tall man, his eyes level with Primrose’s own. 

“I apologize, Master. It’s my birthday, and I wanted to rest a little before I performed,” she said, swallowing her nerves. Her body felt like it was on fire, her nerves tingling. She hated calling him Master. Everyone did. But she knew what happened to the girls that crossed him. She wouldn’t dare do that.

“How old are you?” Helgenish asked, his eyes narrowing.

She swallowed nervously. It wasn’t good that he was curious. “Eighteen, Master.”

He grinned, a wicked thing. It was a smile that would sear itself into her memory. She would never forget it, the way he looked at her like a wolf looked at a deer before it pounced.

“Well then. Come with me, Primrose. You don’t need to dance tonight.”

Primrose followed him out of the dormitories and towards his office uneasily. The Sealticge sun beat down on her. Of course the part of town that wasn’t covered by a cliff was the part she spent most of her time in.

They entered the room, Helgenish closing and locking the door behind her. The sound of the lock’s click sounding like fate being sealed, a binding contract being signed, the knife driving through her father’s heart.

He walked around her to stand behind his desk. He didn’t take a seat. “I confess, I am quite delighted about your becoming an adult.”

Primrose didn’t speak. She wasn’t supposed to, she could tell. “Most girls, they don’t get the privilege of waiting three years for this. But you, Primrose, you are my favorite. So I waited. For you to blossom and become even more beautiful than you were then.”

Primrose smiled and was about to thank him when he surged forwards and pressed his mouth to hers. She froze, her body cold.

She remembered the other girls talking in hushed whispers about what Helgenish had done to them. When she walked up to ask them, they just shook their heads. “You’re better off not knowing,” they said. “But when the time comes, don’t fight it. It’ll make it worse.”

So she didn’t fight it when he shoved his tongue down his throat. She didn’t fight it when he shoved her onto the bed in the office and she didn’t fight it when he tore her clothes off and she didn’t fight it when he was rough and it hurt. Because it couldn’t get worse than this. She acted and pretended to enjoy it, making the noises she heard from the other dancers when they worked.

But when she walked back to her cot, her legs aching and her breasts sore, bleeding, she sobbed the entire night.

That was only the first time.

“Primrose!” Alfyn’s voice snapped her back to the present. He had his hands on her shoulders. She couldn’t make him out through the tears spilling out of her eyes.

“Don’t touch me!” She yelled, standing up and staggering away from him. Her breath came in labored pants. She could feel the rough grip of Helgenish’s hands all over her.

“Primrose, you’re having a panic attack. Please, let me help.” His voice was pleading.

“Stay away!” She cried as he tried to step closer. He had seen her in those clothes. The same clothes that had been torn off of her body. It could’ve been him. It could’ve been any of them. He was just a man.

“Primrose, it’s alright. You’re safe.” It was Ophilia who spoke this time. She sounded like Yusufa now. Yusufa had been hurt by Helgenish too. She remembered Yusufa’s first night. She remembered so much.

Primrose’s knees buckled as she fell back to the ground, sobs wracking her body. She was shaking. Ophilia was next to her. “Primrose, what are you thinking about?"

“He-he…It was the first time, on my birthday. He didn’t…it hurt, Ophilia!” She couldn’t form a sentence explaining what he had done. Couldn’t say the truth, that Helgenish had raped her a thousand times and the first had been exactly six years ago. “He made me say his name!”

“It was that bastard from Sunshade.” Therion’s voice was far away, quiet. “That piece of shit raped her.”

She heard Ophilia’s intake of breath. She couldn’t think about anything but his hands on her and his voice and how it hurt.

“Primrose, look at me.” Ophilia’s voice was quiet. It took effort, but Primrose did look. Her eyes were kind and soft.

“Helgenish ain’t here, Primrose.” It was Alfyn who spoke this time. Their voices cut through the buzz in her head. He sounded less scary this time. “He’s dead. He can’t hurt you any longer.”

He was dead. She had killed him. She had slit his throat. The thought was a comfort. Her eyes cleared slightly. She could see Ophilia kneeling on the snow, Alfyn standing behind her. Everybody else was at the campfire. Therion’s hands were clenched around his dagger. Tressa’s eyes were wide with concern. He was gone, and she was here, and she was safe. They wouldn’t hurt her.

Ophilia held out her hand. It was an offer. Primrose grasped it. “Helgenish. It was him, on my birthday. He said he had waited.” Her breathing was still ragged.

“I know.” Alfyn didn’t really know, and neither did Ophilia. But she could pretend. Pretend that they understood. “But you don’t have to talk ‘bout it if you don’t want to.”

So she didn’t. She sat there, her dress soaked through from the snow, grasping Ophilia’s hand. Eventually the clamor in her head calmed. She could hear Therion's voice whispering softly. When she looked up, he was speaking to the rest of the group. Tressa’s eyes were wide, and Olberic’s expression was grim. Therion himself looked ready to bury a dagger in someone’s chest.

Slowly, she stood. Her breathing was still shaky, but her head was clear. She walked over to the campfire and sat back down, inhaling slowly. The smoke was a harsh smell, but it was a reminder of the fact that she was here.

“Are you well, Primrose?” Cyrus asked the question after Ophilia and Alfyn had sat down at her sides. Everyone else had found their seats around the fire. Olberic tossed a stick into it. There was only so much Cyrus’ magic could do to keep it burning.

Primrose nodded. “I am. I just…remembered something, from my time back at Sunshade.”

“Do you wish to speak of it?” Olberic asked.

Primrose nodded again. She wanted to say it. She wanted them to know, to understand. “Tressa, you mentioned your eighteenth birthday. And that made me remember my own eighteenth birthday. It was…far less nice than yours. It was the first time that Helgenish…” She trailed off. Even though she knew the truth of what he had done, she still couldn’t say the words out loud. Maybe some day she would be able to. They wouldn’t be mad or press her for more.

Tressa’s hands flew to her mouth. “Oh no, Prim! I’m so sorry, this is all my fault.”

The dancer shook her head. “No, it’s not. I’ve been…bottling up all of the things that happened to me. It would’ve spilled out eventually.”

They finished their dinner in silence. Primrose helped Ophilia set up their tent, and when she lay down to sleep, she gripped the cleric’s hand in her own. Ophilia looked surprised for a moment, but she squeezed Primrose’s hand. They drifted off to sleep, the kindness of the group cocooning her like a second blanket.

Chapter Text

Frostsday, Steorra 11, 1618

Primrose slipped her arm through Alfyn’s. “I know that you’re trying to be respectful of my boundaries, but nobody will believe that we’re married if you don’t touch me,” she said, her tone light.

Alfyn blushed. “Sorry, Prim.”

She smiled. “It’s fine. I’m only teasing.”

Their group had split into four pairs in order to discreetly find information about the ruby dragonstone and the right crow. Tressa and Olberic would pretend to be father and daughter. H’aanit and Cyrus were pretending to be two scholars from Atlasdam, and Ophilia and Therion were acting like lovers. Primrose and Alfyn were under the pretense of a married couple. They had entered the town last, as she had needed to help H’aanit and Ophilia become less conspicuous.

Primrose felt her heart flutter as she entered her hometown again. The blue gabled roofs of the houses had been only a memory for so long. But now she was back, and they were real again.

The town was almost exactly as she remembered. The market sat near the entrance of the town. People wandered from stall to stall, talking to merchants and each other. She could see the road that led to the lower city’s homes. The high walls and grand houses of the noble’s district could be seen from miles away. They rose up, the stone enclosing gardens and manses. Long ago, she had thought that those high walls would protect her from everything bad in the world.

They made their way into the market. She saw Tressa and Olberic out of the corner of her eye. The young merchant was talking excitedly to a vendor, Olberic standing next to her. He had changed into the simple clothes he wore in Cobbleston, while Tressa had removed the feathered cap that marked her as a merchant. The two didn’t look much alike, but they had the easy rapport of family. Olberic had become a sort of father figure to the entire group, charging into battle ahead of them and guarding them when they were weak. Primrose saw herself in him, just a little. Both of them had lost everything with the strike of a blade. And they sought vengeance. It was an odd sort of comfort, to see the raging fire in herself within another.

“Up the stairs to the left,” Primrose directed. She knew societal customs and manners of the Flatlands’ upper class, so it would be easier for her to blend in within the wealthy district. Alfyn’s Riverlands mannerisms would stand out a little in Noblecourt’s regal society, but they could claim he was from a wealthy city like Donescu or Riverford

The two walked towards the upper town, Alfyn’s boots clicking against the stone stairs. Primrose tilted her head back slightly and breathed in the crisp summer air. The town had a distinctive scent that she couldn’t quite place. It was something like parchment and coin, combined with the rich scent of roses that the wealthy liked to wear. She had missed it when she was stuck in the dormitories, where the smell of sweat and secretions mixed with the hot air.

She looked up at Alfyn. His eyes were slightly wide, a smile wide on his face. The sun shone through his golden hair. For a moment, Primrose thought that she would be happy to walk through her childhood home with his arm around hers for hours. He would see all the wonders that weren’t in his small Riverlands town.

“Where should we go next?” Alfyn asked.

Primrose was startled out of her thoughts. She considered the question for a few moments as they slowly walked through the eastern part of town. Really, it would be best to go to the city guard to ask about suspicious activity, but then she’d have to reveal her identity and why she was asking. And if one of the crows did live here, it would be dangerous for people to know that the daughter of Geoffrey Azelhart lived and was in town. “One of the shops. We won’t be conspicuous there.”

The two ended up at a shop that was clearly meant for tourists. She saw a globe in the window of the shop turned to highlight Orsterra. It had elaborate illustrations, with leviathans in the Middlesea and a grand palace where Atlasdam was located. A trinket without much geographical truth to it, as Cyrus would say. But it was charming.

The pair entered the shop, a bell above the door tinkling. The shop had high wooden walls, with shelves full of oddities designed to appeal to those new to the city. She saw maps of the Flatlands, Wold, and Orsterra hung on the wall, postcards on a rack, several more globes, and all sorts of other things.

“Welcome in!” The man behind the counter smiled at them. He had square glasses perched on the rim of his nose, a dark brown color that complemented his tanned skin.

“Hello there!” Primrose said, smiling.

The man leaned against the counter. He was tall, almost the same height as Alfyn. “What brings you two here?”

Alfyn spoke this time. “She’s got family over here. And I figured we’d get a souvenir for my family down in Donescu.”

The man smiled. “Well, in that case, I’d recommend looking at our postcards! We’ve got a wide assortment. I’m sure you’ll find one to your liking.”

Alfyn walked over to the stand of postcards. Primrose followed and stood next to him. They had all sorts of illustrations, with some having a view of all of Noblecourt, some with shops and taverns within the city, and some with a view of the market. Primrose’s heart sped up as she saw one at the end of its row. It had the grand front of Azelhart Manor. The grand arch by the door, the tall shrubbery in the garden.

She reached out and picked it up. “What about this one?” She asked. “I’m sure that your parents would find the architecture interesting.” Her voice was slightly shaky. She hoped that the shopkeeper wouldn’t catch on.

Alfyn looked down at it and back up at Primrose. Understanding dawned on his face. “It’s beautiful. Azelhart Manor, right?”

Primrose nodded. The place that had been home for thirteen years. Part of her still considered it her home. The other part of her thought she had no home. That she hadn’t for ten years.

The door swung open, the bell dinging loudly. Primrose looked up to see a city guard walking in, his metal armor gleaming in the sunlight that shone through the windows.

“Mr. Marcus,” the guard said, bowing his head. “I’ve come to warn you that there was recently a thief in the market. He stole a pair of earrings.”

The merchant frowned. “How terrible. It’s been some time since people were bold enough to steal in broad daylight.”

“The merchant said the thief claimed to be a foreigner. He is about five foot seven with white hair, with a fool’s bangle on his wrist. He was accompanied by a blonde woman about five foot six.”

Primrose froze for a moment, her eyes widening. It had to have been Therion. Nobody else would be so brash as to steal from a crowded market in the middle of the day.

“I’ll keep an eye out.” The merchant bowed his head to the guard. “Thank you for alerting me.”

The guard left as Alfyn approached the counter with the postcard. He seemed slightly shaken as well. “I’ll take this, please.”

The merchant pulled his ledger out from behind the counter and quickly jotted in it. “That’s one hundred leaves.”

Alfyn fished the money out of his coinpurse and set it on the counter. He nodded his head in thanks and quickly grabbed Primrose’s arm, leading her out of the shop.

“I can’t believe Therion stole from the market,” Alfyn muttered.

“You aren’t the only one,” Primrose said. “I’ll talk to him at the inn.” There was a pause in the conversation for a few moments before she spoke again. “Will you send the postcard?”

Alfyn nodded, an easy smile spreading across his face. Primrose was glad about that. It was odd to see him upset. “Zeph’d get a kick outta knowin’ I’m in Noblecourt, of all places. And it’ll be nice to tell ‘em about what’s happened.”

“Maybe we can visit Clearbrook on the way to Saintsbridge,” Primrose suggested. “After all, you’ve been to my hometown now. It’s only fair you introduce me to yours.”

Alfyn beamed. “Hey now, that’s a great idea! Everyone there’d love ya. And everyone else, of course. It’s so beautiful, with the rivers and the gardens…I bet ya’d love it there.”

Primrose smiled. “I think I’d love it there too.”

Chapter Text

Firesday, Steorra 16, 1618

“How is she?”

H’aanit’s head snapped towards Alfyn, but she relaxed when she saw it was him. “I am no apothecary. Comen, looketh at her yourself.”

Alfyn walked over to the bed, his boots clicking on the wooden floor of Revello’s house. Linde had curled up at the foot of the bed, her tail lashing slowly.

Alfyn looked down at Primrose. Her chest rose and fell slowly, and she was pale. She had lost a lot of blood three days ago. But she was alive.

They had run back to the parlor when they heard Simeon’s maniacal laughter. Alfyn had gone with Revello, Olberic, and H’aanit towards her. They had found her collapsed on the parlor floor, blood oozing out of the wound in her side. If the knife had stabbed her an inch higher, she would have died before they could have reached her.

He looked down at the wound. It had scabbed over, thankfully. He sighed and sat down in the chair next to H’aanit. “Has her breathing improved?”

The huntress nodded. She had dark circles under her eyes. “I believen so.”

The two stared at her. Her face was relaxed in unconsciousness, her body limp. Her brown hair lay in a braid that fell off the bed. Tressa had done it when it was her turn to watch over the dancer.

“I hopeth she wakes up sooneth,” H’aanit said.

“Me too,” Alfyn said. He felt tears pricking at the back of his eyes. She had come so far. She had finally seemed happy. She couldn’t die now. He wanted her to live. He wanted to see the soft smile she had worn when they walked around town a thousand more times.

H’aanit rose and walked towards the door, turning back to him before she exited. “Thou knowest that if she wakes up…”

Alfyn nodded. “I’ll let y’all know soon as I can.”

H’aanit left the house, Linde padding behind her. Alfyn swallowed thickly, looking back at Primrose.

His mother had always told him he had been born with a heart that cared too much. He’d always laughed and shook his head, telling her that having a kind heart only helped him in his work. But now he understood what she had meant. He couldn’t imagine having to continue on their journey without her. 

Alfyn turned to dig through his satchel. He had gone with Therion out of the city the day before to find some plants that would allow him to make a healing salve.

Alfyn froze when he heard Primrose release a gasp as she sat up. “Was it all…a dream?” She murmured. She let out a soft grunt, reaching towards the wound at her side.

Alfyn quickly regained his senses. “You’re awake!” He cried, a smile spreading across his face.

Primrose turned towards him. Her expression softened. “Alfyn.” She seemed to crumple as tears came to the front of her eyes. “Where am I?”

“Revello’s house. We brought you here after Simeon…”

Alfyn trailed off. Primrose’s face fell. “So he really did stab me.” Her fingers brushed over the wound.

“You knew him.”

Primrose nodded. “He was House Azelhart’s gardener’s apprentice. And…” She trailed off, looking down.

Alfyn recognized the pose she had taken. She looked like this after her panic attack. Dejected and haunted by memories that she didn’t know how to put into words.

He set his hand atop hers. She looked up at him. He saw tears silently rolling down her face. “I loved him,” she whispered.

Alfyn felt his anger rise at her confession. Not at her, but at Simeon. That had been when she was just thirteen. “You were just a kid then. He was…he wasn’t a kid."

Primrose nodded. “He didn’t touch me, but he would read me the poetry he wrote. He was everything a young girl could’ve hoped for. But he was…it was all a means to an end. I was just a pawn in his game.”

Alfyn tightened his right hand into a fist. The bastard didn’t deserve Primrose. He didn’t deserve to see her smile, the sparkle in her eyes when she was happy.

Anna walked into the room. She had a tray with a bowl of porridge and a slice of bread. It was likely for him. The other travelers had all spent some time watching her, but Alfyn had come by twice a day to make sure she was healing correctly.

Anna turned to the bed and gasped. “Thank the heavens! You’ve come back to us at last!”

She walked over to the bedside table, setting the tray down. “Darling, come quickly!” She cried.

Revello hurried into the room, eyes wide with concern. A smile broke across his face when he saw Primrose sitting upright. “My Lady Primrose! Why, I feared we had lost you forever!”

Alfyn saw the flicker of despondance that flashed over Primrose’s face as Anna voiced her agreement. Revello walked over to stand by the bed. “Oh, but the heavens can be merciful,” he said.

Primrose spoke. “Master Forsythe, I…how long was I asleep?”

“Three days and three nights,” Alfyn said.

Primrose’s eyes widened. “I…I see.”

Revello sat down in the chair H’aanit had occupied. “That bastard Simeon fled town before we could do a thing.” Alfyn felt the muscles in Primrose’s hand tense. “What does he hope to accomplish with such horrible deeds? Everything about the man is a mystery…”

Primrose looked down into her lap. Alfyn moved to the bed and sat down next to her. He ran his thumb along the side of her hand. She wrapped her hand around his, squeezing softly.

Revello spoke again. “I was thankfully able to get one of his lackeys to talk.”

Alfyn remembered the interrogation. Linde had found him, the scent of the manor strong on him. Olberic and Revello had made him speak. Alfyn had been there to clean up their mess. Typically, he would’ve been opposed to them harming a man who had no evidence of wrongdoings. But this was for Primrose, and so he stitched up the criminal and lied that he was out of medicine that dulled pain.

“What did he say?” Primrose asked.

“That he makes for the town of Everhold, in the mountains to the south of here. What business he has there, I cannot say.”

Primrose was quiet for a few moments. “Well, then I know where we must go.”

“I wish that I could join you there,” Revello said. “But I am not as young as I once was, and I have a family that needs me.” Alfyn saw Anna nod out of the corner of his eye. “Be safe, my dear child, and may you find the answers you seek.”

Primrose stood, wincing. She reached for the wound on her side again. “Thank you, Master Forsythe.” Alfyn stood up next to her and threw his satchel over his shoulder. “I will. You can be certain of that.”

The two bid farewell to Revello and Anna and began to make their way to the inn. Ophilia had changed Primrose into her dancing clothes in order to let her wound breathe and so Alfyn could monitor it easily. She would change when she got to the inn, and then they would make for Greenbay.

Alfyn let out a gasp as he remembered the medicine in his satchel. He began to rummage through the bag.

Primrose looked at him with a bewildered expression on her face. “What are you doing?” She asked? Her voice was slightly hoarse after not using it for a few days.

Alfyn held the salve out to her. “This is for you.”

She took the pot hesitantly. “Medicine?”

“It’ll fix ya fast, if it starts to hurt again.”

Primrose smiled. “Thank you.”

The two began to walk again. Alfyn spoke after a few moments. “Listen, Prim…I want you to take care of yourself, okay? I’m askin’ as your apothecary…and your friend.”

Primrose looked back up at him, her eyes shining in the sunlight. “Thank you, Alfyn.”

Primrose threw her arms around him in a hug. Alfyn stood still for a moment, surprised, before he wrapped his arms around her. “Of course, Prim.”

Chapter Text

Lightsday, Steorra 25, 1618

Alfyn found Primrose on the beach sitting in silence, gazing out at the waves. She had removed the sandals she always wore, and she had taken her braid out. Her hair lashed back and forth in the sea air.

Alfyn sat down next to her. “Hey.”

She looked up at him, smiling. “Oh, hello, Alfyn.”

“Enjoying the beach?”

Primrose nodded. “One time, when I was a child, we took a holiday to Grandport. My mother was sick, and the doctors thought the sea air would help her. It was one of the only times that I was able to pretend I had a normal family. This reminds me of then.”

“You’ve never talked about your ma before,” Alfyn said.

Primrose looked down into her lap. “She died when I was six. And she was sick for most of my life. It’s my understanding that giving birth to me was a challenge, and the health issues came after that.”

“Oh.” Alfyn reached a hand out and laid it on hers. He was always careful when he touched her. He didn’t want her to have a panic attack again. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever forget the way her eyes were wide, memories haunting her. But he knew she didn’t mind him touching her hand.

“I don’t remember much about her, but I do recall some things. The perfume I use…I bought it because it smelled like hers.”

It was sometimes strange, seeing Primrose be so vulnerable. She tried so hard to be brave, to put on a mask. But he saw the way she hurt, how her face crumpled when she thought of Simeon or Sunshade.

“My Ma died a year ago,” Alfyn said softly. “And my Pa did when the Great Pestilence rolled around.”

Primrose looked back up at him at that. “I’m sorry,” she said. “So we both have no family.”

“Well, that ain’t exactly true. I got plenty of family back in Clearbrook, they just have different blood.”

Primrose shifted so that she was facing him. “Tell me about them,” she said.

Alfyn was surprised at her insistence, but he smiled and turned towards her. “Well, ya might’ve heard me talk about Zeph before. We’re the same age, and we grew up together. His parents died in the Pestilence too, so my Ma practically raised him. His pa was the village apothecary, so Zeph was gonna follow in his footsteps. Ya know why I wanted to be an apothecary, and I convinced him to let me join him.”

“You sound close,” Primrose remarked.

Alfyn nodded earnestly. “He’s like a brother to me. Leavin’ him and his sister, Nina, behind was hard. The three of us were our own little family. Zeph’d manage patients in his house, and I’d visit the ones ‘round the village. Nina spends most of her time outside the house with her friend Lily, but sometimes she’ll help us mix remedies. And I usually catch fish for dinner, and Nina tends to the garden, so we eat well too.”

“Do you live with them?”

Alfyn shook his head. “I live where my Ma ‘n I lived. But it’s just a short walk from Zeph’s house. And it’s got a nice little porch in the back, where I can sit and watch the river, or mix up salves, or just sit and enjoy the weather.”

Primrose was looking at him with rapt attention, a soft smile on her face. “I’m excited to visit it when we head to Saintsbridge,” she said.

“I’m excited for y’all to visit too! Zeph’ll love to meet you ‘n everyone else. Really, everyone there will love you. Even Gertas.”

“Who’s Gertas?”

“Oh, he’s a woodcutter. But I ain’t ever seen him smile! He’s such a grump. He always complains that I never give him the big fish, but a fella’s gotta eat! Oh, and Zeph swears he’s got a crush on Meryl."

Primrose had an amused smile on her face. “Even the smallest of towns has gossip?”

Alfyn laughed. “Oh, the old folk’ll tell ya all about the rumors if you ask. Or even if you don’t! Zeph, Gertas, Meryl, ‘n I are the ones talked ‘bout the most. Nina says it’s ‘cause we’re all young and the same age.”

“How old is Nina?”

“She’s twelve. Wait, no, she turned thirteen last month! Damn, I’ve been gone for a while.”

“But we’ll be back there before you know it. And then I’ll get to meet everyone.” Primrose smiled.

“Yeah.” Alfyn looked out at the ocean. He’d spent most of his life by the water, playing in the river. But the ocean was something entirely different. The smell of the salt in the air, the hoarse, golden sand, and the water that lapped at the soles of his boots and the bottom of his pants. He’d need to change when he went back to the inn. But for now, he enjoyed talking to Primrose.

He looked back at her. She’d also decided to gaze at the scenery. Her brown eyes glowed the color of honey in the sunlight, and her lips were set in a contented smile. She was more relaxed than she had been when they discussed her mother. Alfyn was glad for that. He didn’t want her to be sad.

And that was when he realized he had fallen for her.

He supposed it was only natural for him to fall for her at some point. She was beautiful, but that wasn’t what drew him to her like a moth to a burning candle. She was kind, and she was smart. She didn’t smile too often, but when she did, it felt like when the sun rose again after a storm.

“Since Flynn’s been healed, should we leave town tomorrow?”

Her words startled him out of his thoughts. “I think so. It seems Vanessa’ll be here for a while longer, so if anything pops up she’ll be able to help.”

Primrose was silent for a moment before she spoke again. “Your accent was stronger when you talked about Clearbrook.”

Alfyn flushed. “Oh, was it?”

Primrose looked at him, smiling. “Don’t be embarrassed. It’s cute.”Alfyn blushed even harder. Primrose’s smile widened. “It ain’t fair of ya to tease me like that,” he mumbled.

Primrose’s head tilted back as she laughed. Alfyn wanted to bottle up the sound, to be able to remember this moment whenever his journey ended and he was back home and Zeph was telling him to flirt with Meryl for the thousandth time.

“You’ll be a great father someday,” Primrose said.

Alfyn blushed again. “Say what?”

Primrose smiled. “You’ll be a great father someday. You talk about Nina so sweetly, and I saw how you treated Ellen.”

Alfyn scratched the back of his head, if only to prevent him from scratching his ass. “That’s…kind of ya. Thanks.”

Primrose smiled, opening her mouth to say something further when they heard Cyrus call their names. The professor was walking towards them, a smile on his face.

“Hello, you two! What were you talking about?” He asked as he sat down.

“Clearbrook,” Primrose replied.

“Ah, wonderful! I must admit, I’m quite excited for our stop there on the way to Saintsbridge. I was just speaking with that other apothecary, Vanessa. My goodness, she’s rather tight-lipped!”

Cyrus began to talk about his encounter with Vanessa. Primrose looked at him, listening. Alfyn tried to pay attention too, but he couldn’t stop his eyes from shifting towards her.

By the time Cyrus had finished speaking, it was late in the day. The sun had reached the horizon, and the sky glowed golden. Alfyn helped Primrose to her feet and they made their way to the inn, Cyrus staying behind to look at the different shells on the beach.

“I liked talking to ya,” Alfyn said.

Primrose looked up at him. “I enjoyed it too.”

The two found the others in the inn, enjoying bowls of fish stew. Tressa was excitedly talking to Ophilia and Therion, her eyes wide as she gestured, nearly spilling her bowl. H’aanit and Olberic were having a much calmer conversation by the fireplace. Linde had stretched out by the fireplace, her tail lashing slowly as H’aanit reached down to pet her.

Alfyn sat down on the couch, beginning to eat. Therion slid next to him. “How was the beach?”

Alfyn smiled, covering his mouth with his hand when stew began to dribble out. He swallowed before speaking. “It was amazin’. The view was incredible.”

Therion gave a smirk as his eyes meaningfully flickered towards Primrose. “I bet.”

Alfyn felt his face heat. He busied himself with eating the stew. He’d tell Therion another time, but not when she was ten feet away, laughing at whatever Tressa was saying.

Chapter Text

Firesday, Balogar 4, 1618

Primrose pulled her cloak tighter around her body, shivering as a gust of wind snaked through the open window at the end of the hall. She rapped on the door at the end of the hallway, balling her free hand into a fist in an effort to prevent it from reaching out and slamming the window closed.

Olberic answered the door, a small smile breaking his features when he saw her. Most people would not have been able to see the difference in his expression, but Primrose had been traveling with the knight for nearly three months. She had learned how to read the harsh lines of his face. She believed that it would be useful when they arrived in Wellspring.

“Primrose. What brings you here?”

“I wondered if I could speak with Cyrus,” Primrose said.

Olberic nodded. “Of course,” he said, stepping to the side and allowing Primrose entrance into the room. She let out a soft sigh of relief as the warmth of the fire they had stoked washed over her. Cyrus was sitting at the table near the fireplace, paging through a book. He looked up when Primrose cleared her throat, a smile breaking over his face. 

“Primrose! What brings you here, my dear?”

Primrose smiled as she sat in the unoccupied chair. “I wanted to speak with you.” She looked back at Olberic, who still stood at the door. “Alone, if possible.”

Olberic gave another nod. “I was hoping to speak with H’aanit about the Whisperwood. Good night, Primrose.” He exited the room, and Primrose turned back to face Cyrus.

Cyrus closed his book and set it on a stack that looked rather precarious. “Well, Primrose, what do you wish to talk about?”

Primrose looked down at her hands. “I was talking to Ophilia earlier, and she said something that made me a bit…confused.”

The cleric had been whispering to Primrose about her attraction to Therion. Primrose had been half-listening, trying to keep an eye on Alfyn’s drinking. Therion had left by then, and Primrose was worried about the apothecary getting a bit too deep into his cup. But then Ophilia said something Primrose hadn’t been expecting. “I suppose it makes sense. I mean, I’ve been drawn to him since we met.”

“Would you mind telling me what she said?” Cyrus asked, breaking Primrose out of her thoughts.

“Ophilia said that there was someone she’d been attracted to since she had met him. Is that…typical?”

Cyrus tilted his head, a soft hum coming from his throat. “Most people will occasionally fall in love with someone they don’t have a close bond with.” He spoke slowly, measuring his words slowly. “If you would not mind, how many times have you fallen in love?”

“Once. It was Simeon.” Primrose felt slightly bad for lying. He was only trying to help her, after all. But she wasn’t ready to tell someone that she had fallen in love again after ten years.

“That was after you had grown close to him, was it not?”

Primrose nodded. Cyrus drummed his fingers on the table as he hummed in thought. Primrose supposed that H’aanit was right. He was handsome, and he seemed kind. But she didn’t feel drawn to him the way she did to Alfyn.

“I’m sure you’re aware of sexualities other than heterosexuality,” Cyrus finally said.

“I am. My cousin married a man who liked men and women.”

“And that would be an example of bisexuality. Oftentimes, our experience with other sexualities is limited to homosexuality and offshoots of it. I would also imagine that you would not have received an outstanding education on other sexualities, given your position in society.”

Primrose nodded. “I…yes. My understanding of the matter was that some women liked other women, and I was not to be one of them.”

Cyrus nodded. “This is an unfortunate view of the nobility, though one I can see the thought behind. Regardless, homosexuality is one instance of a differing sexuality. It is much more common than what I believe is the case with you.”

Primrose bristled slightly at that. She ran her thumb over the nail on her index finger, the repetitive motion soothing. “What do you think is the case with me?” She spoke slowly, worried about what the answer would be.

“The majority of people are what are referred to as allosexual. They regularly experience sexual attraction to all sorts of people, and they enjoy having sexual intercourse with people. The inverse of that are those referred to as asexual. There are many different types of asexuality, and my current thought is that you are a type of asexual. Specifically, demisexual.”

Primrose’s throat felt dry. How in the world did Cyrus know this? She’d never even heard of the term asexual, or allosexual for that matter. She prided herself on her education, but at the moment she felt it had been rather lacking in some areas. “What does being demisexual mean, exactly?”

“Demisexuals typically do not experience sexual attraction to people without forming a close emotional bond with them. The intensity of the bond required for sexual attraction varies from person to person. For some, friendship is all that is needed. Others need to deeply trust people. This also means that the amount of people one feels sexual attraction to will deeply vary from person to person. You said you’ve only felt attracted to Simeon, correct?”

Primrose nodded, the gears in her head turning.

“You were quite close to him, yes?”

Primrose nodded again. “Whenever I felt overwhelmed by whatever my father asked of me, he was always there to make me feel better. To read some poem or play and ease my troubles.”

“You had formed a close emotional bond to him, and so sexual attraction followed. Now, it is possible that you are not demisexual, or even asexual. But considering your past experience with romantic love, and the trauma you experienced working in Sunshade, it makes sense for you to be demisexual.”

Primrose just nodded. It felt like the last piece of a puzzle had slotted into place. Working in Sunshade, she had never felt drawn to any of her clients. Simeon had been the first person she loved, and she had first fallen for his silver tongue and the way he made her feel seen before she began to dream about the way his hand would fit in hers and how his hair would feel under her fingers.

She stood, ready to continue thinking in her own room. “Thank you so much for talking to me about this, Cyrus. You truly have no idea what this means to me.”

Primrose made her way to the door, but she stopped when Cyrus began to speak again. “Something tells me that you are seeking out this information for more reasons than Ophilia’s comment.” Primrose turned back to face him, a flush beginning to spread across her face. She had learned how to feel embarrassed again on this journey. “If that is the case, I wish you luck. Alfyn is a good man.”

Primrose blushed even harder. She’d been trying to forget his golden hair and his infectious smile ever since Ophilia had whispered about Therion, but Cyrus had not only rudely shoved the apothecary back into her thoughts, he had also figured out why Alfyn was there in the first place. But the past exchange had only proven that Cyrus was a good man. She could trust him.

“Thank you, Cyrus. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Primrose.”

Chapter Text

Frostsday, Balogar 17

Primrose was beginning to regret wearing the dancing outfits to the Black Market. Maybe Therion had been right. This was a bad idea.

She could feel the eyes of every man they passed on her, roving over her exposed thigh, her stomach, her breasts. She hated feeling their stares on her. She wished that she could will the bangles on her wrists to stop clinking against each other, the coins on her belt to stop chiming.

She reached her hand towards the dagger she had strapped to her right thigh. Through the fabric, she ran her fingers over the words engraved on the blade. Therion had the dagger she used in smaller fights wedged in his boot. He’d promised to give it to her once they were somewhere where seeing her carrying it wouldn’t seem odd.

“Prim?” Alfyn asked. She looked up at his masked face. “Are you alright?”

“Of course,” she said, not believing the words she said. She’d been able to act like she liked these clothes six months ago. Why did everything have to be harder now?

She couldn’t see his face, but she knew what his doubt looked like. “Are you sure?”

She found herself shaking her head. She dug her nails into her thigh.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Primrose felt her heart melt a little at that. It wasn’t fair of Alfyn to be so incredible. To be a far better man than the hundreds she’d seen in Sunshade.

“I just…wearing these clothes brings up only bad memories. Sunshade, Rufus, being hurt in Noblecourt…” She trailed off as fragments of the memories flashed through her head.

“I understand,” Alfyn said softly. “My ma gave me the watch I always wear. Well, not always, ‘cause I did take it off since we’re coming here, but you get it. Wearing it the first few weeks after she died was hard. But I tried to think of it as a way to remember her.”

“I don’t want to remember those things.” She hated how hoarse her voice sounded. “They’re horrible. I wish I could just leave them all in the past.”

“Whether you like it or not, those things are a part of ya. And that’s hard, knowin’ that you have to carry the burden of something that happened ages ago. But you’re strong, Prim. You can make it through this.”

Tears pricked at the edges of her eyes. Primrose willed them to dry. She couldn’t act like someone new to the job. She was the only one who did know how to act. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough, Alfyn.” She remembered her conversation with Therion in Stonegard. How she had felt so helpless, knowing that even though Simeon was still far away, he still had a hold over her.

Alfyn reached over and grasped her hand. To someone on the outside, it would look like a man urging the woman he had borrowed closer. To her, she knew it was a gesture of comfort. Something to make her feel better. “You are so strong, Prim. I don’t know if any of us except for you would’ve been able to handle everything you’ve been through. But you have.”

Primrose swallowed the lump in her throat. “I still get nightmares.” She saw Simeon, his knife wet and gleaming red with her blood. She saw his knife buried in her father’s throat. She saw Helgenish looming over her, threatening her, making her serve him. She saw him standing over Yusufa’s body, that evil grin spreading across his face. “I still remember everything.”

“If you’re ever awake late, come and get me. Therion wakes in the middle of the night. He tries not to wake me up, but I can always tell. And think of the good memories that come with these clothes. Like Yusufa. And meeting me and Therion.”

Primrose smiled, blinking rapidly. She was glad for the mask. It wouldn’t do for all of these nobles to see a girl they thought to be a whore crying in the street. “Meeting the two of you might have been the best thing that happened to me.”

Meeting them had led to her fair share of sorrow. Yusufa’s blood was on her hands because of it. But she had met Ophilia because of them. She had found her purpose again. She had begun to avenge her father.

She had fallen in love.

They stopped as they reached the entrance to the cave that housed the Black Market. Primrose quickly moved so that her and Alfyn truly looked like they were a part of the group.

“Big group of ya,” one of the guards remarked, his voice skeptical.

“I’ve got a lot of friends,” Therion said smoothly from the front of the crowd. She watched as his hand tightened around Ophilia’s hip. It wasn’t too low, but she still watched him carefully as he pulled her to him. She could only imagine the flush the cleric must have. “And we thought we’d have some fun while we were in the Sunlands.”

Primrose felt as Alfyn hooked his arm through hers, drawing her close. Without thinking, she leaned into him and arched her back slightly. “Prim, what’re ya doing?” His voice was slightly panicked.

“Acting,” she murmured. She told herself that it was just to sell the act.

She looked over how the group had found themselves. Olberic had stepped closer to Tressa, though he refused to touch her. Cyrus’ arm had found its way around H’aanit’s shoulder. Erhardt looked around a little before moving behind Tressa, standing to the left of Olberic.

Primrose could feel the eyes of the guard roaming over their group. She could tell that they lingered on her body and Ophilia’s. She swallowed as he turned to speak to his partner. They were a large group, which was suspicious. But they all had their masks, and the type of people to rent girls for a day were also the type to buy goods from an illegal market.

The guard stepped to the side to let them in. “Have a good day,” he said.

Primrose could feel the smirk Therion made. “Oh, we will.”

Chapter Text

Lightsday, Aeber 1

Primrose felt a smile spread across her face as the town of Clearbrook entered her field of vision. The thatched-roof houses, the meandering streams, and the towering trees were just like Alfyn had described.

She looked up at him. A grin stretched across his face. He reached down to grip her hand. She tried to suppress the warmth that spread through her at that. “This is it! We’re really here,” he said. She could hear the excitement in his voice.

“Alright, which one’s Zeph?” Tressa asked as they walked into town. She felt people’s eyes on them, scrutinizing until they reached Alfyn. She heard some people gasp in surprise, turning to run and go tell whoever they wanted to.

Alfyn looked around, before he pointed to a brown-haired man standing on the other side of the river that meandered through the town. “He’s over there, with Nina ‘n Lily.”

“I’m gonna go say hi! H’aanit, c’mon!”

Tressa took off towards the bridge. H’aanit followed with Olberic in tow, and Therion made his way shortly behind them. Ophilia hurried to catch up to Therion, and Cyrus followed them. That left just Primrose and Alfyn, who had an amused smile on his face.

“We should probably go before poor Zeph gets too confused,” Primrose said.

“We should,” Alfyn said, his voice mirthful. The pair began to walk over. They had just finished crossing the bridge when they heard Tressa’s voice.

“You’re Zeph, right?” Primrose bit her lip to keep from laughing at the bewildered expression that appeared on Zeph’s face as he turned around.

“I am,” Zeph said hesitantly. “Who’re y’all?”

“We’re Alfyn’s friends!” Tressa said.

Zeph’s eyes widened. “Pardon?”

“It’s true,” Alfyn said.

Zeph whirled towards the two of them, his eyes wide. “Alf?” He whispered, as if he was afraid that speaking too loudly might scare Alfyn away.

Primrose saw the water that formed in Alfyn’s eyes. “I’m back, older brother.”

Zeph ran forward and slammed into Alfyn, their arms winding around each other in a tight hug. Primrose felt her heart melt a little, seeing Alfyn so happy.

“Gods, Alf, you couldn’t have given me some warning?” Zeph said, his voice slightly muffled by Alfyn’s vest. He was slightly shorter than Alfyn, and he was less broad, too. He didn’t look much like Alfyn, but his smile and his eyes had the same warmth as Alfyn’s did.

The two girls Zeph had been with were staring at the pair. One of them, who had the same brown hair as Zeph, looked like she was about to cry. Primrose walked over to them and gave them a warm smile. “Hello there.”

The two looked up at her. “H-hello!” Said the brunette.

“I’m Primrose. What are your names?” Primrose asked.

“I’m Nina,” the brunette said. She was Zeph’s sister, Primrose recalled.

“And I’m Lily!” The other girl, who had chestnut colored hair and freckles dotting her face, smiled as she spoke. “Are you friends with Alfyn?”

Primrose nodded. “I am. We’re going on a journey together.”

“Are all those other people on the journey too?” Nina asked.

“They are. We’re all traveling together.”

“Zeph said Alfyn is traveling to learn more about this other apothecary. Why are you traveling?” Nina asked innocently.

Primrose hesitated. She wasn’t sure how to say that she was traveling to enact revenge on the bastards that had killed her father in a way that wouldn’t scare Nina and make Zeph hate her. “I’m trying to find an old friend,” she said after a few moments. It wasn’t exactly a lie. Simeon had been a friend once.

“That’s nice. Nina and I are best friends,” Lily said. “Do you have a best friend?”

Primrose looked over at Ophilia, who was watching Zeph and Alfyn catch up, tears welling in her eyes. “That girl,” she said, pointing at Ophilia. “Her name’s Ophilia.”

Lily and Nina looked over at Ophilia. “She’s pretty,” Nina said. “You’re pretty too. Is Alfyn your boyfriend?”

Primrose froze for a second. “No,” she said. It was true, they weren’t involved like that. But she remembered the way he had stepped in front of her when Darius had talked about her. How he had always been there for her. How easy it would be for someone to think so.

Alfyn made his way with Zeph over to where the travelers were gathered, Zeph’s arm slung over Alfyn’s shoulder. “Zeph, these’re my friends! That’s Cyrus. He’s a professor up in Atlasdam.”

Cyrus bowed his head at Zeph. “It’s wonderful to meet you,” he said. “Alfyn talks about you often.”

A grin spread across Zeph’s face as Alfyn continued talking. “That’s Ophilia. She’s a cleric from Flamesgrace. H’aanit’s from the Woodlands, she’s a huntress. Therion’s, um, a mercenary, from the Cliftlands.” Primrose smothered a laugh as she looked over at Therion, who had tucked the fool’s bangle behind his back with a small smile. Alfyn continued to name them all. “Olberic’s a knight from the Highlands–Hornburg, do ya remember when it fell? And Tressa’s a merchant, and she’s from the Coastlands. And there’s Primrose. She’s a dancer from the Sunlands.”

Primrose smiled as everyone greeted Zeph. “Well, y’all probably figured this out, but this is Zeph, my fellow apothecary. That’s his lil’ sister Nina and her friend Lily. I see you’ve met ‘em already, Prim.”

Primrose felt her smile widening. “You spoke of them so highly back in Goldshore. It would be rude of me not to introduce myself.”

Lily let out a little gasp. “Alfyn talked about us?”

“Oh, all the time!” Ophilia said. “I can tell just how much he loves it here by how much he talks about it.”

“Well, that’s mighty kind of ya!” Zeph said. His accent was just like Alfyn’s. It was warm and sweet, like honey.

Alfyn sat down next to Primrose as everyone began to talk to Zeph, Nina, and Lily. “Enjoying Clearbrook so far?”

Primrose nodded earnestly. “Oh, Zeph is so nice, and so are Lily and Nina. It’s nice to be somewhere where people are so welcoming.”

Alfyn smiled. “It’s incredible here. I’m glad to be back, even if it’s only for a couple of days.”

“Miss Primrose?” Nina said, walking up to her and Alfyn.

Primrose bent forward towards Nina. “Yes?”

“Alfyn said you were a dancer.”

Primrose nodded. “That’s right.” She hoped that was the extent of Nina’s questioning. She didn’t want to have to explain her work in Sunshade to a thirteen-year-old.

“Could you show me a dance?” Nina asked.

“Yeah, I wanna see a dance!” Lily said, walking over to stand by Nina.

Primrose stood up. She was only a few inches taller than the girls. She tried to think of a dance that she knew would be appropriate for them to see. One of the strengthening dances would be good. She decided on the Lion Dance.

Primrose stepped into an open area. She gave a twirl and then shifted her weight onto her back foot, raising her hands into the shape of claws. She felt the magic weave through the air towards Alfyn.

“Wow,” Nina breathed out.

“That one’s called the Lion Dance,” Primrose said. “It boosts people’s strength. I used it on Alfyn, so he’ll be a little bit stronger now.”

“Really?” Lily asked.

Alfyn stood up with a smile. “I reckon we ought to find out.” He leaned down and picked Lily up, cradling her in his arms.

Lily began to laugh. Primrose couldn’t help the smile that spread over her face. “No, Alfyn,” Lily managed to get out in between giggles. “You need to try picking Primrose up! She’s bigger than I am.”

“If ya say so,” Alfyn said, setting Lily on the ground. He walked over to Primrose, who felt a flush grow over her face at the thought of him holding her like that. “Ready?” He asked her.

Primrose gave a nod, and Alfyn leaned over and gripped her behind her knees and her back. She let out a shocked squeal when, instead of holding her in his arms, he threw her over his shoulder. She began to laugh as her braid fell over her shoulder and began to dangle in front of her.

“Not what you were expectin’?” Alfyn asked.

His accent had already become more pronounced, just like when he’d talked about Clearbrook back in Goldshore. It was cute.

“No,” Primrose managed through her peals of laughter.

“Alf, if you want a real challenge for your strength buff, give Olberic or H’aanit a try,” Therion said. Primrose could picture the amused expression on his face perfectly.

Alfyn let out a bark of laughter. “Ready to come down, Prim?”

“Yep,” Primrose said. Alfyn slid one hand onto her waist and he slowly lowered her to the ground. She stumbled back a few steps, a smile spread wide across her face.

Alfyn walked over to Olberic, who had an amused smile on his face. “This should be interesting,” the warrior said, removing his scabbard and leaning it against a tree. He set his spear against the same tree.

Alfyn rolled his shoulders back before he walked towards Olberic. Primrose walked over to stand next to Cyrus, who was watching Alfyn size Olberic up with an amused expression on his face. “This ought to be fun,” the scholar murmured.

Primrose smiled in agreement as Lily and Nina joined her. Alfyn walked forward and hooked one of his arms around Olberic’s neck and the other around the back of his thighs. With a grunt, Alfyn managed to pick the warrior up.

Olberic let out a hearty laugh as Alfyn beamed. Primrose began to clap. “Brand’s Blade, Alfyn! You really did it!” Tressa exclaimed.

Alfyn opened his mouth to respond, but a flash of panic came over his place. “Prim, I think the spell’s wearin’ off!”

Primrose’s eyes widened, and she hurried to get to somewhere more open. The effort proved to be useless, as Alfyn let out another grunt as his arms gave out. Olberic crashed to the ground, groaning in pain.

Lily and Nina began to laugh, and Primrose felt herself joining them. Soon enough, the whole party had erupted into laughter.

Chapter Text

Lightsday, Aeber 1, 1618

“Thanks for invitin’ me for dinner,” Alfyn said, sitting down at the table.

“You think I’d have you eat at the tavern when you haven’t been here in, what, four months?” Zeph countered from the kitchen. “Sometimes I don’t understand the way you think."

Alfyn let out a laugh. “Hey, people out on the road aren’t as nice as the people here. You’d be surprised at the amount of innkeepers who got mad at us for staying a while.”

“Where did you stay the longest?” Nina asked from her seat at the table. She had a book open in front of her. Alfyn caught a glimpse of noxroot before she closed it to look up at him.

Alfyn tipped his head back in thought. “I’m not sure. Either Noblecourt or Wellspring.”

“Why were y’all there in the first place?” Zeph asked, walking into the dining room. He sat at the third chair at the table and put the food in the center of the table. Fresh-caught fish and sweet potatoes. Alfyn felt his mouth begin to water as Zeph dished each of them up.

“Well, we visited Noblecourt pretty shortly after we’d formed our party,” Alfyn said in between bites of bass. He decided not to mention the prophecy. It didn’t seem like something that needed to be kept top-secret, seeing as it had just been sitting in the Atlasdam library, but if he told Zeph the whole town would know by the end of the week, and all of the Riverlands by the end of the month. “Primrose and Therion had business there.” As interesting as Zeph would find the reasons for Primrose’ and Therion’s travels, Nina was only thirteen. She was far too young to hear about those things.

“Primrose said that she’s trying to find an old friend,” Nina said after a bite of sweet potato.

Alfyn hesitated for a second. He supposed Primrose had said that so that she wouldn't have to explain the intricacies of her situation to Nina. But it still hurt, to hear Simeon referred to as a friend. He didn’t deserve that, with everything he had done to her. “Yeah. A guy named Simeon.”

“Why were you in Wellspring?” Zeph asked. Alfyn was grateful for the change in subject. He didn’t want to explain why Prim had been looking for Simeon in the first place.

“Olberic and Therion needed to go there.”

“Your friends have so many cool stories,” Nina said. “Tressa was tellin’ me about how you fought a lizardking!”

Alfyn felt himself smile at Nina’s wonder. He’d missed her excitement about everything. Tressa had some of the same exuberant energy, but it wasn’t quite right. “We sure did! That was one of the things we did in Wellspring.”

“Was it scary?” Nina asked, her eyes wide.

“A little. But Olberic’s so strong, so it wasn’t too bad.”

“Olberic was able to pick me and Lily up at the same time!” Nina said, her eyes sparkling in the house’s lanternlight.

“Alf, have ya met any other apothecaries on the road?” Zeph asked.

Alfyn faltered as he thought of Vanessa. Yes, she’d been an apothecary, and she was a damn good one. But she was a horrible woman too, healing people for all the wrong reasons. “One. She was…somethin’.”

Zeph tilted his head to the side, his lips quirked up in a curious smile. “What do you mean by that?”

Alfyn hesitated, his eyes darting to Nina. “It was back in Goldshore. There was a fever runnin’ around the town. She made a cure, and it worked well, but it had Gaborra evergreen in it.”

Zeph’s eyes widened. “What?”

Alfyn nodded grimly. “She sold the treatment for the cough evergreen causes for a hundred thousand leaves. She said it’s ‘cause the ingredients were hard to find.”

“Dohter save her,” Zeph muttered, his expression furious. Nina, too, was wide-eyed, shock written across her face.

“This woman, Marlene, didn’t have enough to pay for her daughter. But it turned out that the ingredient in the cure, glowworm moss, was in a cave outside of town. So we went to the cave an’ fought her. We were able to defeat her and grab some moss, and I was able to help Flynn, the girl who was sick.”

“Wow,” Nina whispered. “You’re a hero, Aflyn!”

Alfyn blushed. “Well, I dunno if I’d say that,” he said, scratching his neck.

“Hey, you stopped a bad apothecary from doin’ more harm,” Zeph said. “That’s no small feat.”

“Thanks, Zeph,” Alfyn said softly. He took a bite of sweet potato. It had begun to cool off in the time the conversation had taken.

“Have you been in charge of healing all of your friends?” Nina asked.

Alfyn swallowed before he answered. “Mostly. Ophilia’s a cleric, so she can use some magic to heal people, but I usually do it since it makes Ophilia really tired to heal people.”

“Do you have an assistant?” Zeph asked.

“Primrose knows a little. I taught her some back in Goldshore. It comes in handy when everyone’s a little scraped up.”

“Primrose is nice,” Nina said. “She’s really good at dancing, too! And she’s pretty.”

“She sure is,” Alfyn said. He felt a smile spread over his face. He’d seen how she’d made her way to Nina and Lily when they’d first arrived in town. And how happy the girls had been talking to her.

“You got a crush, Alf?” Zeph teased.

Alfyn felt his face grow hot. “W-what?”

Zeph let out a laugh. Alfyn had missed that laugh. Zeph laughed in a warm way that made all your problems seem small. “Oh, I’m right!” Zeph said, his smile wide.

Alfyn looked down at his plate. “So what if I am?” He managed to bite out.

“Hey, Clearbrook can be boring sometimes. It’s excitin’ to hear some gossip that’s not recycled from five years ago. You said she’s from the Sunlands?”

“Well, she was born in Noblecourt, but she’d lived in Sunshade for the past eight years or so when we found her.”

Alfyn looked up to see Zeph’s eyes widen. “Aelfric above. She was in Sunshade?”

Alfyn nodded. “Dohter save her,” Zeph muttered.

“She’s had it rough,” Alfyn said. “I don’t want to hurt her.”

“But you’re so nice!” Nina said. “You’re never mean. She’d be lucky to marry you.”

Aflyn smiled and reached over to ruffle her hair. “Thanks, Nina.”

“She’s right,” Zeph said. “Primrose seems like a great woman. And you’re a great guy.”

“I don’t even know if she thinks about me like that,” Alfyn said.

“How could she not?” Zeph said. “You’re an amazing apothecary, and an amazin’ person.”

“Thanks, Zeph.”

“Tell ya what, tomorrow, we’ll have all your friends and me go down to the tavern. I’ll keep an eye on her. See what she’s thinkin’.”

“You’d do that?”

“Anything for my brother.”

Chapter Text

Windsday, Aeber 2, 1618

Primrose heard the distinctive sounds of Tressa’s laugh echoing through the tavern as she walked in, her eyes adjusting to the low light. She found Tressa sitting at a table with Zeph and the rest of their group. She made her way over to them, sitting in the open chair between Zeph and Cyrus.

“There you are, Prim!” Tressa said. Her face was slightly flushed, and Primrose wondered if she had convinced Alfyn to buy her a drink. It wouldn’t have been surprising if she had. She hadn’t been allowed to drink since Olberic had won the tournament, something that she’d voiced her disapproval over many times. Maybe being home had made Alfyn a little more lenient.

“Sorry I’m late,” Primrose said. “Lily and Nina were doing my hair.”

Primrose slung the braid the two girls had done over her shoulder. Deep green ribbons that matched the color of her eyes were interwoven with her dark brown hair, with a small daisy tying it off at the bottom.

“It looks good!” Alfyn said. He was sitting on Zeph’s other side, a plate of food in front of him. “The girls sure are takin’ a liking to ya.”

Primrose smiled. “They’re lovely. I’m enjoying spending time with them.”

Olberic slid her a pint from across the table. He was certainly capable of handling his drink, but Primrose had observed he often didn’t unless he was challenged. The night after his fight with Erhardt was the only exception. She took a slow sip, smiling as the ale began to warm her up.

“We were just talkin’ about stuff that happened when we were kids,” Zeph said. “You got any stories?”

Primrose looked down into her cup. Most of her happiest childhood memories had revolved around Simeon. And she didn’t want to bring him up here. Not when she was feeling so happy. “Not really,” she said softly.

Zeph opened his mouth to respond before closing it. Alfyn’s eyes darted between the two of them before he spoke up. “Hey, Prim, do you remember that time we walked through Noblecourt when we were staking it out?”

Primrose felt a smile spread across her face at the memory. “I do. Did you ever mail that postcard?”

“What’re y’all talking about?” Zeph said, his smile amused.

Primrose looked down into her mug, feeling a soft flush spread across her cheeks. “When we all went to Noblecourt, we split up into groups so that we could find out some information about the people we were looking for. I went with Alfyn, and we found this charming little shop. It had all sorts of things for tourists, like maps and such, but there was a pretty postcard that had Azelhart Manor on it. Alfyn bought it, and he said he would mail it here.”

Zeph turned to face Alfyn, an exasperated look spread across his face. “You never did that!” He exclaimed.

Alfyn held up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m sorry! In my defense, that was in Goldshore, and I was kinda busy makin’ sure Flynn didn’t die.”

Zeph barked out a laugh. “Fair enough. Say, you want another drink?”

Alfyn looked down into what Primrose assumed was an empty pint, looking back up with a wide smile that made Primrose blush even more. Gods, how strong was this Riverlands ale? 

“‘Course I do,” Alfyn said. “Go ask Isaac for another.”

Zeph stood and grabbed Alfyn’s pint along with his own. “Anyone else?” He asked.

Tressa eagerly reached her arm out to hand Zeph her pint, but the apothecary shook his head. “You’re only nineteen, and a lightweight from the looks of it. I’m not getting you another.”

Tressa pouted. “Aw, c’mon! Please? These guys never let me get anything. The last time they did was in Victors Hollow.”

H’aanit spoke up at this. “Tressa, thou slurrest thy words. ‘Twould be best to stoppen for nowe.”

Tressa let out a huff, sliding down into her chair. “Fine,” she grumbled. “But at least get me something to eat.”

Zeph shook his head, laughing. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, walking towards the bar.

“Have you eaten yet?” Ophilia asked from across the table. Primrose noted how, despite the close quarters of the people around the table, she managed to be noticeably closer to Tressa than Therion.

Primrose shook her head. “Not since lunch.”

“Well, that won’t do!” Alfyn exclaimed. “Nobody is gonna go hungry in Clearbrook if I have anything to say about it.” He pushed his plate of a half-eaten fish and roasted broccoli towards her.

Primrose opened her mouth to reject the offer, but she was cut off by the growl of her stomach. She recalled just how long it had been since she’d eaten lunch. With a small sigh, she pulled the plate towards her. “Thank you, Alfyn,” she said, beginning to eat.

Zeph returned with a plate with a few slices of bread and two full steins. “The bread’s for everyone, not just you, Tress,” he said, sliding the plate into the middle of the table. Tressa grabbed a piece and began to wolf it down, much to Olberic’s amusement.

A woman walked over to their table, leaning on the back of Alfyn’s chair. “There you are!” She exclaimed. She had long, dark hair that was tied back and held in place with a green headband. She had on a simple beige dress, with a brown vest tied in the front. “I’d heard you were back in town, but I wasn’t able to see you!”

Alfyn turned around, a smile spreading across his face. “Meryl! Great to see ya!” He stood up and gave her a hug. Primrose felt a twinge of jealousy ring through her. She grit her teeth together, trying to ignore the feeling.

Alfyn stepped back, though his arm remained slung over her shoulder. “Everyone, this is Meryl. Meryl, these’re my traveling friends.” Alfyn raised his arm and began to point at each of them. “Therion, Ophilia, Tressa, Olberic, H’aanit, Cyrus, and Primrose!”

Primrose managed a smile as the others gave Meryl their hellos. Meryl beamed. “It’s so nice to meet y’all!” She said. Her voice had the same honey-smooth accent as Alfyn and Zeph.

“It’s nice to meet you too!” Tressa said, her words sliding together just as H’aanit had said. “Alfyn says everyone here in Clearbrook is super nice. You seem super nice!”

Meryl’s smile widened. “Aw, thank you! I’d have to agree. Everyone here’s lovely. Except maybe for Gertas.”

Meryl shot a glance at a gruff man that sat in the corner of the tavern. Despite her teasing words, her expression was affectionate. Nothing like how it had been for Alfyn. Primrose felt her worry melt away.

Zeph caught Alfyn’s eye, and Primrose saw a message pass between the two of them. She wondered if he had made the same realization that she had. Alfyn casually removed his arm from Meryl’s shoulders, a smile still on his face. “It’s a bummer I’m leavin’ tomorrow,” he said. “I’d’ve loved to talk to you and Gertas.”

Meryl smiled. “Well, you could come over now! That is, if you’re okay with leavin’ your friends with Zeph for a bit,” Meryl added, glancing over the group gathered by the table.

“Go ahead, Alfyn,” Primrose said. Alfyn glanced at her with a surprised look, but he turned back to Meryl with a smile firmly in place.

“Lead the way,” he said, and the two disappeared into the crowd of the tavern. Primrose was surprised by the size of the crowd that had gathered on only a Windsday. Although, she supposed, the Sunshade tavern had been filled with crowds larger than this every day of the week.

Primrose remembered her food and resumed eating. The fish was flaky on her tongue, and she felt herself release a small sigh as she bit into it.

Primrose looked around the tavern as she continued to eat. She hadn’t really had the opportunity to take it all in when she’d first entered. Candles sat in the middle of each of the tables, and two windows behind the bar had moonlight filtering through them. She could see pieces of the floor worn down where people had undoubtedly walked through or decided to dance.

People were all gathered around the candlelit tables. Her group was by far the largest, but it didn’t seem like anyone was alone. The sound of chatter, in those melodious accents, filled the room. It didn’t feel like a tavern, not in the sense that Primrose had known that word.

It felt like a home.