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Of all the places Raphica thought he would find himself, sitting between the legs of a pretty little hylian was not one of them. However, as her fingers threaded themselves through his hair, the Rito leader found himself easing into the idea more and more. Her fingers caught on a knot, giving him a gentle tug. Taking advantage of the opportunity, he allowed himself to lean back, his shoulders fitting snugly against her thighs. Should he lean his head back, he would press against the plush of her belly.
It was enticing.
“Apologies, my lord.” Her tone, while soft, was cautious. This was all still new territory to the kingdom of Hyrule. He could hardly fault her.
“Think nothing of it,” he replied, smooth, “I never minded a little hair pulling.” Her fingers faltered. Perhaps that was a little forward. Thankfully, after a moment, she continued, her tips grazing along his scalp. He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly.
What a curious creature she was.
Mali had been one of Queen Sonia’s attendants prior to the war. They had met in one of the encampments where she had been tending to wounded soldiers, himself included.
Pinnec always called him a bit reckless; perhaps this time the old bird had been right after he played a bit too close to the fire fiends. Raphica blamed it on the wind shifting, his body barreling down into the fray. A rookie mistake.
He survived, much to his happiness, if not a little beaten up. The Knight Construct, Vence, and Calamo had fished him out of the pit. Hylia, Raphica knew none of them would let him live the moment down. However, waking up under her golden-eyed gaze made the pain worth it, especially as she tended to him battle after battle. There had been other occasions where they met, conversed, over the weeks but nothing ever this intimate before.
Then again, there was one time at a bonfire some time back. It had been an effort to lift spirits and rally the troops once more. Raphica could have sworn she watched only him as she spun round and round the fire, her hair almost matching the blaze in its color and ferocity as she held her arms out for balance. His feathers rustled against the heat, unable to take his eyes off her.
Had she been a Rito, she might as well have sung a proposal to him. Hylia, she fascinated him–drew him right in.
He accepted the dance, offering a feathered hand and spun her under his wing.
“Once this is all over…” The words tumbled before he could stop himself. His head tilted back, his eyes finding hers. “Come back to Tabantha with me. We’re rebuilding our settlement.” Mali stared down at him, eyes wide. “We’ll need to sort trades out with the kingdom and we will need someone who knows the in’s and out’s of Hylian ways.”
If the King, a Zonai, could be with a Hylian woman, why couldn’t he?
A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “I’m not familiar with the economics of trade,” she admitted, her voice low and melodic. Her hands slid down the sides of his face, brushing through the sensitive feathers. He breathed through the tender sensation, warmth spreading through his body. His eyes fluttered shut. “Wouldn’t it be more beneficial if someone like Lenalia assisted you?”
Probably, but Lenalia wasn’t the one he wanted.
“From what I’ve seen,” Raphica answered, “Lenalia prefers the archives and preserving history.” Her palms moved down his neck and over the slopes of his shoulders. “We,” he held the sound for a moment, her fingers rounded out behind his back, “Would be making history.” Her fingers scooped the base of his head, gently pulling at the tense muscles. “I’d be happy to let her visit if that would please you.” She giggled.
He sounded a little desperate, hadn’t he? Oh well.
Mali hummed as she eased his head forward, tilting his chin towards his chest, “I don’t know much about your culture.” Her fingers splayed out, pressing into his scalp. “Someone would need to teach me.”
A small smirk pulled at the corner of his beak. “I’d be more than happy to,” Raphica replied, melting into her touch. “Who better than the Elder of the tribe?”
“You won’t be too busy making history?”
Raphica clicked his tongue, a chuffed sound escaping. “For you? Never.”
What it would be to adorn her in gems and braids, proclaiming her as his own. His feathers weaved into her hair, his marks on her neck. Already, he could picture her in the glow of the summer sun or savoring the crisp air of autumn. Winter, unfortunately, was brutal but he’d be there to keep her warm. His hearth would always be lit, pot always full. His roost would be a much happier place.
“Regale me.” She pulled her fingers through his locks. He relished in the gentle tugs as she twisted his hair. “What is most important for me to know?”
Again, he hummed, this time in consideration, savoring a buzz of excitement. She was intrigued. “Rito are territorial creatures,” he announced after a moment, “There are cultural acts we find most sacred.” He blinked his eyes open, staring blanky at his lap. His heart sputtered. “One such is hair-braiding.”
“Oh?” Her fingers slowed, pulling them away. “I hope I haven’t offended you in any way.”
“Actually,” Raphica lowered his voice, “The opposite.”
It was an act that required patience, understanding, and respect for a partner. Above all, it required trust that the one behind his back would never betray him. He had come to know this soft woman and could not bear to think of what life back in Tabantha would be like without her. Pinnec was right. He had a terrible habit of diving into things on his own.
War put a perspective on things though. Life was too short.
He had faith in himself.
“My lord–”
“Raphica,” he interrupted, turning to face her, leaning his weight on his hip, “Please.”
There was something in her eyes he couldn't quite read until her features softened. Her touch was hesitant as her fingers returned to the edge of his hairline where the strands met feathers. No pressure was needed for her to turn him back forward. Mali remained quiet as she moved them further down, following the line of his jaw. Her thumbs brushed against the sensitive corner of his beak. She eased his head back, pulling the top of his head flush with her belly. Warm. Her scent reminded him of the forest–woodsy with a hint of a sweet fruit. He breathed deep, relaxing against her.
Mali repeated his name, a breath of a sound, and all hope was lost for him. A smitten Rito. “I am simply a lady's maid.” As if it were reason enough. He didn’t buy it.
“And I am but a warrior,” he replied, “I’m only the Elder because of my people.” He shrugged weakly, watching her expression; admiration flashing across her eyes. “I don’t have riches or a hammock to call my own yet.” He laughed, he had to. What could he offer her but himself? “But when we defeat the Demon King,” he continued, “I’d like to build something.”
A legacy? A home? He wasn’t quite sure but he knew he wanted her beside him.
Cradling his head, Mali smiled, “You honor me.”
”I’d like to do more than that,” he rumbled. She gasped, his name sputtering out in a laugh mixed with disbelief and giddiness. A tendril of hair fell over her shoulder, dangling in front of his face. He joined in, his body shaking against her. “You must forgive me,” he said, a neutralness returning to his tone, “I could not resist.” Especially when she worked such magic with her hands.
A touch cruel, perhaps, but he’d happily live through the punishment if he could witness the blush on her cheeks daily. The cold may well suit her already. Raphica reached up, a feathered finger toying with the fallen piece of hair. His voice lowered, “What do you say?”
She took a deep breath, allowing him to play. Her gaze softened. “I shall consider it,” she answered. Diplomatic. Queen Sonia would be proud. He shouldn’t have been surprised. “But,” Mali hummed, “You must promise me to return from the battles unscathed.”
Raphica snorted weakly, “But I enjoy our little moments like this.”
“So do I,” Mali tilted her head, “But I cannot tend to you otherwise if you are always injured.”
His feathers flustered, catching a spark in those molten eyes. He released a breathy laugh, a smirk appearing, “I don’t think Agraston or the King will miss me on the front lines next time.”
She laughed, “I mean it, Raphica.”
Letting go of the hair, Raphica tentatively reached up towards her face. The tips of his feathers brushing against her soft skin. In the subtlest move, she leaned into his touch. His heart fluttered, the cocky quirk in his lip faltering. “I promise.” The words, though soft, held so much. His hopes, his desires, his feelings. Whatever it took to defeat the Demon King, he would do so and make sure they—he, Mali, and his people, could return home.