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The quiet of Jorrvaskr was eerie and unnerving.
Just a day ago, it was alight with the usual hustle and bustle, the usual banter, people swinging their fists drunkenly at one another at any given hour. That was the typical Jorrvaskr experience, anyway. Now, it had all gone so silent that a pin could hit the floor upstairs and reverberate into the basement.
Aela didn’t exactly want to admit it was her fault.
After her unconscious, dying body was discovered splayed across the basement rug, everyone had taken to keeping quiet to give her peace as she lounged in the Harbinger’s bed.
However, nobody had considered that she wanted things to go on as normal. She didn’t want any special treatment, and she certainly didn’t want to be bedbound for however long that damnable wife of hers said she’d be there. The newfound silence of the mead hall was enough to drive the beast in her insane — and she was known for achieving such a oneness with her lycanthropy. It stirred such a restlessness inside of her.
“It was just a sabre cat,” she’d gasped to the blurry crowd around her. She didn’t think it would matter much. A little bit of rest would recoup her energy, and everything would be fine. But her body had given out from the pain and growing blood loss before she’d reached her shared room, and out she went.
She’d almost gotten away with it, too, had it not been for the trail of blood she left behind.
The wild Huntress was content to stay down and recover a day, and nothing more. There were things that needed done, and she never could stand to stay still for long…yet here she laid. Doing nothing. Did the rest of the Companions really expect this of her? Did they have a death wish?
Aela had lost track of the time in the midst of losing her sanity in that stupid plush bed. But every now and again, some idiot would swing the doors open, poke their head in to check on her, and end up leaving just a moment later after hearing her venomous barks of discontent.
Just as the sun rose and set every day, a new visitor came to the room. This time, the sorry whelp situated behind the doors knocked twice, sharply. Most were not courteous enough to offer that to her.
“What?” She hoarsely called, propping herself against the pillows as best she could.
“I was sent to check on you,” came Njada’s impatient-sounding response. “Am I going to get bitched at when I get in there?”
Aela sat with the question for a second. Njada’s presence might be a bit refreshing, but she was still miserable — there was truly no guarantee she’d get off clean. “Maybe.”
From the other side, she heard a scoff. “I’m coming in. You don’t scare me.”
The wooden doors whined as they were pushed open, revealing the warrior in hide armor looking as unimpressed as ever. Njada was notably absent the day prior when Aela had her incident, out doing some job with Farkas that had slipped her mind in the moment.
“So this is what the sabre cat dragged in,” she mused to herself. Her hands went to her hips as her hazel eyes darted over Aela’s sagging form. “You look terrible.”
Aela followed her line of sight and quickly shielded her stomach with the blankets tossed to the other side of the bed. “Very funny. Now what are you here to nag at me about?”
“Just wanted to see for myself what a big mess you made of yourself, really. Did you let your guard down entirely, or what? Where was your shield?”
Hearing Njada question her technique when she wasn’t even there to witness it made more bitterness bubble up inside. “Don’t act like you don’t have fresh wounds on your shoulders right this moment.”
The warrior brushed her left shoulder gently, seeming to inspect it with a muted level of care. “This?” She asked incredulously. And without waiting for an answer, she continued. “This was Farkas’s fault. You went all alone even after witnessing Skjor—”
Those words wore Aela down enough for her to hold up a slightly trembling hand. “We’re not bringing this up again. Do you know how many times I’ve heard this in the past day?” In her tone was a suggestion of hurt — and not from the healing wounds across her abdomen.
Njada shrugged. “It’s just baffling behavior from someone who should know better, is all.”
“Nobody’s perfect,” she barked.
“Clearly.”
Now staring daggers into the younger fighter, Aela watched her situate herself at the edge of the bed and cross a leg. Njada was not about to cease the interrogation, and Aela knew she would be harder to scare off than most.
“How are you feeling?” Despite her question being blunt, Aela knew it was her own way of caring.
It wouldn’t hurt to give her a straight answer.
“I’ve been better. Every now and again the pain kicks up a fight. Feels like I’m being seared like a steak. I’m tired, I’m thirsty for something to get me drunk, but most of all I’m dying to get back out there.” Right as she finished saying something, the hot jabbing of her wounds made her wince and bite her lip.
The other leaned back on her palms. “Yeah, you look pretty devoid of life. Even your eyes are dull. You sure you’re not actually dead right now?”
“If I was dead, I could be haunting you to your grave instead of waiting for an opportunity to strangle you,” Aela said with a strain in her voice.
Njada chuckled and shook her head. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. Why are you so insistent on leaving the bed? Everyone else is saying the same thing: that you want out of here.”
“Would you be thrilled to lie back while everyone else is out chasing glory?”
A hefty sigh left her lips. “Well, no, but I also wouldn’t want to push myself if I was grievously injured. The glory can wait. Would you want your injured wife to be trying to scramble out of bedrest?”
Aela’s freckled face scrunched in disgust. What a foolish question. “Of course not. But I’m rather fine.”
“Ha!” Njada's cackle boomed. “So you say. Let’s see you get up on your own, then.”
No more words were said before Aela threw back the blankets and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. That effort alone caused the pain to rip through her gut and forced a grimace upon her face. In horror, Njada’s eyes bulged as she scrambled to gently shove her recovering body back under the protection of the blankets.
“I can’t believe you actually thought to try,” she said while clicking her tongue.
“I…just need a moment…to…to get my bearings,” Aela spluttered through pained gasps.
“This,” her hand flew out in a broad gesture towards the bedridden woman, “is why you’re not supposed to leave. Do you get it now?”
Aela’s spark reignited the moment she caught her breath. “Leave me, you wretch. I don’t want any more company. And you tell the rest of the sons of bitches that, or—”
Fortunately for her, Njada had already started her departure. No longer was she chiding Aela, but was now preparing to close the doors again. “Yeah yeah, whatever. Nobody’s going to listen to you. Harbinger’s orders overrule yours.” Then, the doors latched shut, and any trace of Njada was gone.
“She’s not supposed to GIVE orders! Who does she think she is?!” She found herself screaming to nobody in particular. That one yell winded her again — for but a moment — and she simply had to sit with her decision and stew on it.
She didn’t think she was in the wrong. The overprotectiveness of the Harbinger was disgusting — even if it was her wife. Every man for himself, after all.
With nothing to take her frustrations out on, Aela’s hand stretched out to the book left on the bedside table. She’d rather be doing some dexterous activity, but with nothing else in sight and her not being ready to tempt fate again, the book would have to do. As she snagged the corner of its spine, pulling it closer, her mind flashed to the night prior, where her wife so lovingly read it to her to soothe her to sleep. Hearing her deep, quietly droning voice instilled a sense of security and comfort in her. It was something she hadn’t known in so long.
The Huntress had bedded other women before, sure, but that was usually for sensual satisfaction and not any actual romantic effort. She wanted someone who would match her wavelength…lo and behold, there the Orc was, helping her and her siblings fight a giant at the Pelagia farm a year ago.
But for as much as she loved her new wife, she had to remember it was her fault that she was stuck in the basement for the foreseeable future. The fondness melted away back into resentment. Her brows creased downwards, angrily flipping through the book to find where they’d last left off.
The Alduin/Akatosh Dichotomy, it was called. A book her wife had apparently become familiar with when she learned of her fate as the Dragonborn. Alduin had since been vanquished, but that was a whole part of her life she simply couldn’t throw away.
The bookmarker was thrown aside, and Aela soon buried her nose in the book. Anything to distract herself from the throbbing and jabbing in her stomach; suffice to say, her distraction was quite successful. She was almost fortunate enough to not notice the doors creaking open for the fourth time that day, but her beast didn’t grant her respite. The noise cut through her focus, and the sour feelings came rushing back.
At the very least, she’d made good progress through the pages when she snapped it shut. Her head craned up, and the acidity let loose from her rough voice.
“Thought I was clear on the ‘no visitors’ front,” she declared.
And the tall, redheaded Orc in the doorway stood puzzled with a bottle of spiced mead in hand. The end of her lip twisted around her tusk as she processed what had just been said to her.
“This is my room,” was the response she quietly settled on.
Aela folded her arms over her chest. “That you’ve locked me in for the rest of my days,” she grumbled.
Uskerva could only sigh. It was what she’d been told by Athis, by Vilkas, and now by Njada: she was trying her best to put up a fight. It was in her nature. “Please, don’t be so dramatic. You know, it hurts me to see you like this, too…”
“Then let me up, damned woman!” She exclaimed desperately. “I’ll be alright!”
“I’ll be talking with Danica in a bit about your care as it stands now, but I wanted to check on you for myself, first. I’ve heard reports of you misbehaving.” There was a teasing lilt in her tone, but Aela was having none of it.
“Is it considered misbehaving to want to be left alone to find valor for myself?”
“When you did that last, you apparently got distracted, and here we are now.”
Heat took over Aela’s cheeks. “I wasn’t distracted,” she said, her voice low, “I just…” Her head shook in annoyance. “Look, is that mead for me or not? My throat could use a spot of that right about now.”
“As a matter of fact, it is, love.” The Orc fidgeted with the warmed bottle in her bare hands as she approached Aela’s side of the bed. She bent down to meet her wife’s face, an innocent grin plastered across her warpainted cheeks. “A kiss, first, if you please.”
Aela’s eyes were fixated on the bottle behind her back, trying to figure a way to finesse it from her grasp. She was not quite in the mood for kisses. Maybe after a good drink…
“Ah-ah,” Uskerva warned as though speaking to a child. She held the mead above her own head, away from her wife. “I know what you’re trying to do. I would like a kiss. Then you can drink.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“You know I am.” She winked.
It drove her insane. This woman was going to be the death of her. Nevertheless, with pouty, puffed cheeks, she leaned in as best she could. And soon, soft, tusked lips touched her warm skin. Uskerva lingered on her right cheek for longer than she cared at the moment, but it meant she’d get to hydrate, so she put up with it.
When the bulky woman pulled away, she seemed more than pleased with herself. The spiced mead soon found its way into Aela’s hands. So greedily did she uncork it with her lupine fangs, so swiftly did she down it, that she didn’t think to question that it faintly smelled earthy, or had a unique bitterness to it behind the spices. When every last drop had been drained, she lightly cleared her throat and sank back down into the sickeningly sweet comfort of the bed.
“Do you feel better now?” Uskerva patiently asked.
“Do I sound better?” She flipped the question back with a tone more pleasant than the last.
The Orc flashed her a toothy grin that was as warm as the mead she’d imbibed. Her heart hitched a moment, forgetting every little qualm she had with her beautiful wife as her pure joy melted her cold exterior. Maybe forced bedrest wasn’t so bad when a wonderful woman was doting on you.
It was even better when said woman crawled into bed with you.
Delicately, Uskerva’s calloused hand wrapped around Aela’s smaller, freckled hand and rubbed the back with her thumb. “Do you want me to leave now?” Her voice now was the way it was the night before: soothing, quiet, a balm on her mood.
The sudden uptick in pampering wasn’t unnoticed, and Aela wasn’t the fondest of suckups, but something about this just felt right. Giving her question a genuine thought, she’d be rather sad if she departed for the Temple now.
“Stay a little longer, please.”
Silently, Uskerva nodded and continued to press gentle circles into her hand. The comfort of the moment made her almost entirely forget the sabre cat’s marks across her body that taunted her so. Her blue eyes made an effort to focus on the gorgeous, chubby-yet-muscular body that belonged to the woman who stole her heart. A build like that was perfect for holding your smaller partner close and sharing a tender moment. The yearning for such a tender moment grew, but Uskerva knew it would be foolish in her current state. So instead, Aela settled on drinking in the beauty of this beefy Orsimer who treated dragons like chew toys.
The warmth of a nearby body and the warmth of the spiced mead soon enveloped her. The oft-fiery Huntress felt rather subdued as the minutes passed, melting into the bed and blankets. It became a strain to keep her bleary eyes open; she didn’t even remember her lids falling closed and shrouding the view of her magnificent spouse. The faint hand massage told her that Uskerva remained there…so soft, sleepy words escaped her parted lips.
“I love you,” she mumbled.
She wasn’t entirely sure Uskerva had heard her, until she felt the far-off pressure of lips planting themselves on her forehead firmly. Uskerva broke away, and the waves of sleep came crashing over Aela.
For the moment, she was placated.
A tense hour with Danica had passed before Uskerva returned to the mead hall. As much as she loved dedicating time to her Goddess, she was happy to be home — especially at a time like this when her wife needed care. Admittedly, she was at the Temple because of her care, but only because she was able to knock her out and sneak away so that said feisty wife couldn’t attempt yet another escape.
Reports from other Companions showed that Aela was still asleep as far back as fifteen minutes before Uskerva’s descent into the dining hall. When she made her way back to her chambers, she found that the restless Huntress was indeed resting. A small weight off of the Orc’s shoulders.
Her steps back into the room were quiet and calculated so that her love wouldn’t be disturbed. For just a moment, she stood vigilant by Aela’s side, drinking in the peace and the fact that for now, she felt no pain. Aela’s chest rose and fell softly, light and wheezy breaths escaping her slack mouth. Her arms were splayed out — the left arm dangling off the bed, an empty mead bottle on the floor brushing against her limp fingertips.
Uskerva would get that bottle later.
She rolled up the sleeves of her Kynareth robes and approached the bed as close as she could without bumping into Aela’s hanging arm. Carefully, Uskerva withdrew the blankets from Aela and tossed them to the other side of the bed. Loose-fitting red nightclothes were revealed on her person, bringing Uskerva to then tug the bottom of her tunic upwards and expose the healing sabre cat slashes.
It was certainly an improvement from when she first saw them: through torn steel armor, blood everywhere, viscera visible…the thought of such a thing made her feel ill. Now, the wounds were still a deep indent in the skin — red and irritated — but healing nonetheless thanks to the combined efforts of Uskerva and Danica’s Restoration magic.
She snapped her fingers; atop her dry tips was a golden glow. She’d just stared at it for the better part of half an hour and focused on bringing it to life. It felt significantly easier this time, despite the pressure being on to get it right. Perhaps it’s because she knew Aela trusted her, and she already had healed her once — saving her beloved from death’s door.
Uskerva bit her lip in concentration, making a gesture towards Aela’s abdomen. The brilliant lights swirled from her fingers, hands overcome with faint tremors. She held it for five seconds, just as she’d practiced. The process made her feel numb, but watching the wounds become that much shallower between the streams of incandescent magicks was well worth it. The fledgling healer clutched her chest and let a deep exhale escape her lungs. How she managed to pull off a similar feat yesterday could only be explained by adrenaline and fear that were now long gone.
She couldn’t help but lock her attention back onto her sleepy spouse, the serenity of the here and now. She challenged such serenity by wicking away saliva from Aela’s bottom lip with her thumb, and paid the price instantly. The Nord’s mouth closed, her face crinkled in disturbance, and those beautiful icy eyes flickered open.
Those eyes were full of confusion and exhaustion, then spite.
“You…” she said with a heavy tongue.
Sheepishly, Uskerva backed away from the bed. “Well, good morning to you, too. Are you feeling better?”
Aela pushed herself to sit up again, ruffling her tunic back down over her stomach. “What was in that mead?” This time, her words were sharper.
“Canis root, my love. Arcadia suggested it in case—”
A blunt thud of her fist against the comforter cut her short. “By Hircine’s furry hide, Uskerva, how much did you crush into it?”
The Orc cocked her head to the side and shrugged. “You have to remember you chugged the whole thing, dearest.”
“Gods…” Aela murmured before letting herself fall back in defeat. “To think the whole of Whiterun is against me when I’ve saved the sorry asses of all these people so many times…”
Uskerva frowned deeply. “There you go again, being dramatic over a little recovery. You don’t mean these things, and we both know that.”
“You have caged a wild beast in your room and you’re not going to like what happens next,” she remarked with a sneer.
“You’re threatening me now?” Her red eyes widened. Truthfully, she could not take her threat so seriously when she was in such a meager state. Or at all. The thought of her wife threatening to attack her over a week of being asked to relax…
It was admittedly humorous.
“And you’re laughing?” A thick ginger eyebrow was raised.
“I never thought I’d see the day that you were laid so low that you became a grumpy little puppy. What’s the harm in accepting a lazy week?”
“Is treating me with dignity also out the window now? …You know what? Get Vilkas back in here. At least I feel better yelling at him.”
Even throughout Aela giving her a piece of her (albeit sleep-deprived and miserable) mind, Uskerva could not help but love every bit of her. The messiness of the situation was unexpected, but she knew in her heart that her gentle yet formidable wife was still in there somewhere. It was at this point that she decided to let Aela tire herself out again and let the “captivity”-driven ranting run its course.
It only took another minute for her to wind down and throw her hands over her face in some sort of sour emotion. Uskerva took this time to reapproach and lay a hand on her shoulder. Thankfully, Aela did nothing to combat her.
She did, however, groan obnoxiously.
“You’re terrible,” she resigned in exasperation, hands slipping back down.
“I know I am, dear. I know I am.” The calmer wife’s fingers crept to the hair fanned over the pillows, ready to play with it. Just one twirl of a strand made her stop; Aela’s hair was wild and knotted — likely from the tossing and turning and generally being stuck in bed. She reached for the nightstand’s drawer and brought out a birch-carved hair brush, tossing it lightly against her palm.
The defeated Nord couldn’t help but take a peek at what drew the comfort away from her immediate side. “What are you doing?”
“Your hair’s a mess, and I know I wouldn’t like that.” Even now, Uskerva’s maroon hair was in pristine condition, styled swoop and all. She took her looks very seriously — a task often proved daunting in her line of work. “Might you sit up for me, my furball?” The brush was quickly put down in case she had to aid her in sitting up again.
Fortunately, with the recent round of healing, it became less of a struggle for her to situate herself upright. However, it did come with another pouty look. “Furball…?” Aela reiterated, offended. “I’ll have you know Farkas sheds way more than I do.”
Uskerva snickered. “No, silly, it’s because of your hair right now. Just…hold still for a moment, alright?”
A nasal huff of frustration. “Fine.”
Before she knew it, Uskerva had once again crawled into the other side of the bed. She now wielded the brush in her dominant hand and grasped a portion of her ginger hair with the other. With utmost caution, she began to pull the bristles from her roots to her tips, saving any actual tugging for rather mangled knots. While she did her best to not jostle her wife’s head much, some knots had to be removed with a bit of force. Every time she made her twitch, a soft apology arose.
Eventually, she fell into a rhythm. It seemed to be entrancing Aela.
That, or she simply had no fight left in her.
While petting her hair to make sure it was tangle-free, Uskerva hummed along to a tune she was surprised she still remembered.
It piqued her beloved’s interest to rouse a question from her. “What…is that? I’ve heard you singing this song before,” she asked after clearing her throat.
The brush went onto the table on her side of the bed before Uskerva took her shoulders and meticulously kneaded her fingers in through the fabric of her tunic. As she began her impromptu massage, she smiled sadly. “I hold no love for Wrothgar and what it did to me, but I can never forget the ballad of the Hero of the Second Era. The name, admittedly, escapes me, but the melody lingers.”
“Mmm. You’ll have to tell me the story sometime.”
“Yes, but not now. I’d rather not think of it. Wrothgar as a whole unravels…unsavory memories.”
Aela leaned more into the massage as it trailed down her back. “Apologies.”
“It’s fine, really.”
As discreetly as she could manage, she pulled away a hand to wipe away budding tears. It did not lead to Aela noticing — too far gone in the massage. She would let out unconscious, guttural grunts when Uskerva would hit specific points of tension in her muscles.
The Orsimer would do anything to keep her safe and happy, and she could only hope her wife knew that.
“So…is this to make up for the mead incident?” Her head was dipped against her chest, muffling her a bit.
Uskerva rolled her eyes involuntarily. “You just won’t let that go, huh? Aye, I guess so. If it makes you not want to rip my heart out of my chest and—”
Aela stiffened. “I never said such a thing. I love you too much to sacrifice your heart to Hircine.”
“Then what were you planning on doing to me, exactly?” Her hands raised from her back, planning to withhold her tenderness until she’d received a sufficient answer.
“I’d rather hear what Danica said,” she demanded.
As much as Uskerva loathed that she changed the topic, it wasn’t unwarranted. Somehow, she had forgotten to mention that at all. She blinked slowly a few times before bringing herself back to reality. “Right…well, she said that if you continue to abide by the instructions you were given, you’re most likely allowed to roam around Jorrvaskr starting tomorrow.”
“Is that so?” She asked with an urgency she tried to dampen, not wanting to appear outwardly desperate.
“We can sit on the porch together and take in the nice summer breeze. Just think of it.” Her hands were lowered onto her back again. “But you still must stay in the city for another week at the very least.”
“I’ll take it,” Aela settled upon with only a smidge of bitterness in her tone. “I yearn to be free of the bed more than anything. How in Oblivion have I been sleeping in this thing every night for a year?”
“Oh, it’s not so bad if you’re not lying in it all day.”
That was the end of their conversation. The deafening silence returned, save for the rustling of Uskerva’s dainty movements across Aela’s body. There they sat for another few minutes, content with one another’s tranquil presences.
Uskerva could not lie, she did wish to see her wife back in action again. She wished to hunt by her side, by foot or by paw. And part of her still was in shock over the horrible sight that greeted her yesterday when she rose from the paperwork in her office. Knowing she was suffering so much that she was lashing out senselessly hurt more than the harsh words ever could. She did admittedly feel guilt for keeping her in bed, just on the basis of Aela being a very active and stubborn woman. But it was for the best, was it not?
Her massages turned into slow rubs as Aela began to squirm underneath her hold.
“Love?” She worriedly chirped.
“What’s on your mind?” Uskerva pushed down the melancholy and responded with her usual bright inflection so that Aela would have no reason to worry.
“I’m…sorry. For everything since this morning.”
“It can wait until you’re better. In sickness and in health, Aela.”
Aela swallowed deeply. She turned her head back over her shoulder enough to meet her partner’s gaze. Fatigue still lingered in the darkness underneath her eyes, but she was alert enough now to stare into her soul.
Her next sentence came mildly, yet so powerfully: “I’m so glad to have met you.”
The Orc’s tears made an unwelcome return. “Of course, dearest.”
“Oh, there’s no need for that crying…” The tone used was almost scolding, but Uskerva knew better than to think she was being shamed.
Aela’s hand met Uskerva’s sharp jaw, drawing her in closer to the Huntress’s range. Before her intentions could be questioned, her green-stained lips smushed into Uskerva’s. It took her by surprise and certainly made the tears stop their dripping, and she would be a fool to not return the favor.
Uskerva cradled her cheeks and put all her heart into her reciprocative kiss.
She was so incredibly happy to see Aela on the mend.
A slow, slow hour had yet again passed. This time, the two wives were intertwined with one another as Uskerva continued her quest to read to Aela. Her head was nestled into Uskerva’s side, still lying on her back. She was once again at peace — asleep. Yet Uskerva continued to read aloud.
She figured it good for her subconscious mind to have something to focus on that wasn’t the attack that could’ve taken her life; she didn’t mind if Aela was already asleep. If it kept her sane, if it kept her resting, then it was worth the scratchy throat she’d get later.
Occasionally, she would twitch or mutter something incomprehensible, always bringing a little grin to Uskerva. Everything about her was charming in some way. Sometimes she would reach over and rub the arm that had invaded her personal space, sprawled over her chest. It would always get a sleepy reaction out of her spouse.
Just as she neared the end of the book, a harsh knock broke through her concentration. Admittedly startled, Uskerva nearly tossed the book and woke Aela, but she held strong and mentally cursed the knocker instead.
“Quiet, please,” she whispered a little loudly.
After the doors had opened, a still-armored Farkas clanked his way inside. “Uh, sorry, but Tilma wanted you to know that dinner is done.” He did his best to match his Harbinger’s volume, seeing the cause of the quietness all cuddled up to her.
“That’s…that’s fine,” Uskerva said while shaking her head. “But I’m afraid we’ll be late tonight. Can you have someone bring it down in maybe…two hours? One and a half?”
Farkas scratched at his head. “Won’t it be cold?”
“Aela’s soup can be reheated over the fire. I don’t care if I have anything cold.”
“Oh…alright. How is she, then?”
She couldn’t help but chuckle. “Better than earlier. She’s not about to chew someone’s arm off anymore. I think I got her calmed down.”
His initial response came with a cheesy smile. “Ah, that’s good to hear!” The smile, however, was soon damned to vanish. “You know, after I heard about what happened, I was afraid we’d lose someone else already. Especially her.” Farkas’s words were even smaller now, tinged with a familiar sadness. He was right there when Kodlak had died and hardly spoke to the others in the immediate aftermath.
“I know, Farkas, I know. I think we all love her in some way.” Uskerva puffed her cheeks as though she were about to cry again. She did wish that Farkas wasn’t so direct with his words — even if it was what they were all thinking. To offset any possibility of crying and waking Aela, she simply snapped the book shut and pulled her hand in to pepper with kisses.
“Should I go now?”
“If you’d like. Thank you.”
The steel-clad warrior shut the doors behind himself as gently as possible, leaving Aela and Uskerva in a mostly dark room again. Uskerva laid her hand back down and picked the book up again, resuming the last few pages she had to go. After finishing it, she lightly tossed the book towards the nightstand and immediately went to twirling Aela’s hair around her fingers.
She managed to sneak in another forehead kiss and an “I love you” to the sleeping woman.
She wasn’t aware of it, but the corners of Aela’s mouth subtly twitched into a faint smile.
The Huntress knew she was loved.