Chapter Text
Kanoz had only known the girl for a handful of weeks-twenty-eight days, give or take-but somehow it felt as though she had been trailing at his heels for years. She was a contradiction wrapped in wool and sunlight: forever drowsy yet endlessly curious, kind to a fault, and far too sweet for her own good. She moved through the world like a drifting feather, soft and unassuming, but there was a stubborn persistence to her that rivaled roots breaking stone. She stuck to his side like a shadow that refused to be shaken, always with that half-lidded smile, always nodding off mid-step or mid-thought, yet never once falling behind.
He didn’t quite understand why he hadn’t left her where he’d found her. By all accounts, he should have. He’d left others. It was easier that way-cleaner. But he hadn’t. And here she was, skipping along the narrow forest road as if she’d always belonged there, her small hands stained red with berry juice from her foraging, palms sticky with sweetness. She carried her treasures in the folds of her cardigan like offerings to some invisible god.
Above them the sky had been an even, muted grey, the kind of overcast that promised rain but held off just long enough to lull travellers into false security. The air smelled faintly of pine resin and damp soil. Then-without warning-the heavens broke. A curtain of rain came down in a single sweep, thick and heavy, drenching the dusty path until it turned to slick, dark mud in a matter of heartbeats.
“Oh!” Essie gasped, startled at the first icy drops striking her head and shoulders. She tugged her cardigan tighter around herself, shivering. Her dark lashes clung together with droplets like tiny crystals. “Oh, rain?”
Kanoz stopped and tugged his hood over his hair with a slow, exasperated sigh. The waxed fabric beaded water easily enough, but his boots were already splashing in forming puddles. He glanced at her with flat, unreadable eyes-the same eyes she had once described as “storms trapped behind glass.” “That’s how rain usually works, yes,” he muttered.
Essie blinked at him, cheeks pink from the sudden chill, still clutching her cardigan like a shield. “Aw… so no camping outside tonight? Do we sleep in the rain?”
“No. The hell we don’t,” Kanoz said sharply, his tone brooking no argument. There was no universe in which he would let her curl up in a puddle and catch her death. Adjusting the strap of his pack, he reached for her small hand and tugged. “Come on.”
“Wait-I want to play outside!” she chirped, hopping in place like a child trying to catch raindrops on her tongue.
“You can ‘play’ outside when it stops raining,” he replied, his jaw tightening. Rainwater was dripping from his chin; his cloak clung to his broad shoulders like a second, heavier skin. He had no idea why he even cared whether she splashed about in a storm. Ridiculous. She wasn’t his problem. Not really.
“Pretty *please*?” she wheedled, eyes wide and shining even in the dim, rainy light.
Kanoz halted, water streaming off his hood, and turned to face her fully. His expression was stern, carved from stone. “Absolutely not.”
His gaze swept over her-her damp hair plastered against her cheeks, her cardigan clinging to her frame, her boots caked in wet soil. She’d get sick if she lingered in this. But before he could corral her back onto the path, Essie slipped her hand from his and darted off into the trees like a streak of sunlight breaking through storm clouds.
“Hey. Hey! Hey! Oh for fuck’s *sake*-” His voice cut through the patter of rain, sharper now with frustration. He clenched his jaw and cursed under his breath as he followed. Why did he even care? He had no obligation to this girl. None.
…But.
“What are those?!” Essie’s voice floated back to him, breathless with excitement. She was crouched at the edge of a swollen river now, staring at something intently. Two small frogs sat on a mossy log, the rain dripping from their slick green backs like beads of glass. One stood still, the other was jumping around.
“They’re just frogs,” Kanoz grunted as he caught up, panting slightly from the run.
“It’s us!” she declared, eyes wide and bright.
He furrowed his brows, kneeling down next to her. The frogs faced each other, perfectly still, letting the storm roll over them like patient little gods. He sighed. “Are you seriously getting excited over *frogs*?”
“I’ve never seen one! Can I have them?” she asked, deadly serious.
“Absolutely not.” His voice was firm, but there was an undercurrent of incredulity. Did she truly think she could scoop up the rain frogs and keep them like trinkets? Actually, knowing Essie, she would. He pushed the thought aside, glancing at her sodden clothes again. “Come on. We need to get you into dry clothes and somewhere warm before you get sick.”
“Wait, wait!” she cried, kicking off her shoes and socks. She hiked her dress up just enough to step into the shallows. “Oh, the rocks have moss on them-hello frogs!”
Kanoz’s hands clenched at his sides. Any moment she could fall and crack her head. He opened his mouth to scold her, then shut it again. The frogs, of course, did not answer her. They remained statuesque, blinking slowly as rain peppered their backs.
“Be careful,” he warned at last, his voice low but taut. “Those rocks are bound to be slippery.”
“Kan! Kan, Kan! There’s fish in here!” she squealed.
He raised an eyebrow, stepping closer to the bank. Sure enough, the faint shadows of silver fish flickered beneath the current, glinting like fragments of fallen stars. “So there are,” he said nonchalantly, though her excitement tugged at something unfamiliar in his chest.
“You said last night you wanted fish? Your kingdom does fish and uhh… ‘chips,’ don’t they? Look, I can catch one for you!” She crouched, scooping at the water with her hands like a child.
Kanoz snorted softly. “You won’t be able to catch one with just your hands. You need a fishing rod or a net at the very least-” He stopped mid-sentence as an idea struck. He knelt beside her, scooping up a smooth, heavy river stone. “Here. Watch me.”
A large fish swam near the surface. With a flick of his wrist, he launched the stone. It hit true, stunning the fish, which he scooped out with practiced ease. Water dripped down his arm as he held the catch up for her to see. “See? That’s how you catch a fish.”
“That’s a big one!” she exclaimed.
“It is,” Kanoz agreed, inspecting the silvery scales glinting faintly in the dim light. “This will make a good evening meal.”
“Oh my god, that *rock*,” Essie breathed.
“What about it? Essie, my fish, look at my fish-” he asked, frowning.
“It-look!” She bent to grab it, a small brown stone shaped vaguely like a heart, the same shade as his eyes. Her foot slipped on the mossy rock, and she pitched forward into the stream with a splash. “Got it!”
Kanoz’s heart lurched. “Are you alright!?” he barked, kneeling on the bank, cursing himself. Why did she have to be such a damn magnet for danger?
“Look, it’s you but a rock,” she said, grinning up at him despite her dripping hair.
He let out a small, reluctant chuckle. “You’re ridiculous, do you know that?” He took the stone from her fingers. It did look like his eyes.
“I wish there were purple rocks,” she murmured. “Then I could have one like my eyes-and-and we could match!”
Kanoz rolled his eyes but there was something strangely warm about the notion. “Well, you won’t find any purple river rocks. Sorry, Essie.” The nickname slipped out again. It had started as a joke, but lately it was a habit.
“Come on, quit messing around. You’re going to get sick.” He reached for her wrist, tugging her gently up.
“Carry me to the inn? I’ll hold the fish!” she pleaded.
Kanoz stared. Did she seriously expect him to carry her? He almost said no-but something in him softened. “Bloody hell… fine,” he muttered. He scooped her up easily, the fish tucked on her lap.
By the time they reached the inn, the fish was cooking in the kitchen and Essie was upstairs changing into something dry. When she returned, damp hair clinging to her neck like dark silk, they sat at one of the inn’s sticky tables, waiting for dinner.
“So Erthyruby does a lot of fishing?” she asked, leaning on her elbows, eyes wide.
“Aye,” he replied, sipping from his ale. “On the coast and rivers. It’s a large part of our food source, and a big part of our economy.” He tilted his head. “And what about your kingdom?”
“I don’t think we do a lot of fishing here… it’s mainly pasta and desserts. What’s fish taste like? Oh-what *are* chips?”
Kanoz chuckled softly. “Chips are long slices of potato fried in oil. And fish… well, fish tastes like fish. Hard to explain.”
“I thought they were called fries?” she asked.
“They’re wrong,” Kanoz grumbled. “They’re chips. Only weirdos call them fries.”
“I’m calling them fries,” she said with a smug little smile.
He rolled his eyes, snorting. “Fine. Be a weirdo, then.”
“Oh-food’s here!” she exclaimed as the plates arrived. The fish was perfectly fried, golden brown with a crisp crust, a pile of steaming chips beside it.
“About damn time,” Kanoz muttered. But Essie’s excitement quickly turned to dismay. She tried a bite, gagged, and pushed the plate away.
“Noooo… I hate this…”
Kanoz stared, incredulous. “Seriously? You don’t like it? There’s somethin’ wrong with you.”
“I want to like it because you like it, but it’s ughh…”
“You don’t have to like something just because I do,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. This girl would drive him insane.
“But then we can share?” she asked, wide-eyed.
“That’s the dumbest logic I’ve ever heard,” he muttered. “You’d force yourself to like something just to share it with me?”
He sighed, signalling the staff. “Fine. Pasta for the high-maintenance princess?”
“Thank you, my beloved knight!” she beamed.
Kanoz nearly choked on his ale. Beloved knight. Damn it.
“You’re insufferable,” he groaned.
“You could’ve pushed me in the river when you had the chance,” she teased. “I wanted to push you.”
“Don’t worry,” he said dryly. “The thought definitely crossed my mind more than once.”
…
…
‘’Hey!’’