You were the daughter of a fishmonger in Laketown, you had come of age four years ago but had not married yet because your father could not afford a dowry to wed you to anyone. It was this winter, in your 20th year that a sickness ran through the town, taking multiple lives. Illness and death was nothing new to you and your townsfolk. Laketown was dreary and full of poverty, the Lake Master keeping what little wealth trickled in all for himself and a select few friends. Your neighbor Bard, and his family had been hit hard by the seasonal illness. His wife had succumb to it and passed after many weeks of quarreling with a fever and cough. She left him with their oldest of three children only 8 years old, Sigrid. Their middle child Bain, 5 years old, and their youngest Tilda was but an infant. The townsfolk all worried to themselves about their own families, but you couldn't help but worry for him and his children's well-being. Your father warned you that it was futile to worry about other's misfortune, that it would only bring bad luck upon yourself, but you ignored him. You wanted to help in any way possible.

You took what little money you had earned that week as a barmaid, and went to the market buying fresh meat, and produce. You tucked it neatly into a basket, adding half a loaf of your own bread. Your father was away working, he would strike you across the face had he known what you were up to. You straightened out your dress as best you could, the wrinkles in it well worn in from years of wear, and bad quality material. You pulled a shawl over your shoulders and left your home with the basket. As you crossed the causeways you checked all around, making sure your father wasn't passing in his fishing dingy. The coast was clear and you crossed over, climbing a small flight of stairs. A soft light was emanating from the front windows of Bard's home, but it was quiet. You frowned thinking to yourself, "a home with children should never be so deathly quiet." At the top of the stairs you took a breath and knocked sharply. The screeching of furniture across the floor could be heard inside. The door opened, a small boy peering up at you. "Yes?" he said, instantly eyeing the basket. You gave the boy a warm smile. "Is your Papa home, I have brought you all some food?" The boy shook his head, but now knowing the basket indeed had food, he did not want you to leave. "Will he be back soon?" you pressed. The boy's eyes lit up, "Oh yes! You can come in and wait if you like!" He gave you a smile and widened the door. You stepped inside. The house was a wreck. There were clothes tossed about all over the floor, dirty dishes stacked high in the sink and on the stove. Your smile sank, the place had lost it's "woman's touch" and Bard had not had the capacity to even begin thinking how to start a life without his wife. You looked further around, and spotted the eldest girl on the bed sleeping, with her baby sister tucked up in her arms. You smiled softly. Placing the basket on the table, you kneeled down to the boy. "Little one -" he scrunched up his nose, "I am not little, my name is Bain." You smiled holding out your hand and shaking his lightly, "very well Master Bain, will you help me clean this house? You cannot have supper without any clean dishes." He nodded curtly and set himself to the task of picking up the clothes.

You rolled up your sleeves and began attacking the dishes, with the bar of soap near by, drying them with your skirt because you couldn't find the dish rag. After a good hour or two you and little Bain had cleaned the house, it was now livable. You had lit a fire in the hearth and set a cauldron of water over it to boil to do laundry, as you began heating the coals in the stove pipe. The girls began to stir in the bed, the baby crying out, she was hungry. Bard's eldest child picked her up, the baby crying louder. She walked over to you. She looked at her brother, "Bain who's this? Why'd you let her in?" Bain realized he never caught your name. You smiled at her, "I'm (y/n), I'm your neighbor across the waterways. I had some extra food and figured you might like it." The baby wailed sharply. "Tilda, do hush." the sister chided. "I'm Sigrid" she nodded at you. You handed Sigrid some of the bread and a slice of apple for the baby to gnaw on. With the baby contently munching, and all introductions made you set to making a stew on the stovetop. It began simmering and you sat with the children at the table, unwrapping the bread, and handing them both a slice. They ate slowly, watching you cautiously. Footsteps could be heard coming up the outside stairs, and the door swung open. Bard had returned.

He was haggard, and looked as if he hadn't seen sleep or food in ages. "Children I'm sorry but I was unable to procure any food. I-" He noticed you. You gave him a small smile, as you rose from the table. "(y/n)? What're you doing here?" You gently placed your hand on his arm, "I had food to share, and so I am." He gave you an extremely weak smile, "that is very kind of you but-" You cut him off, "But you need charity now Bard, and I won't sit idly by and let and your children suffer." A strong look of concern passed through your gaze. He nodded in defeat and entered the house. He threw down his weapons and shrugged off his coat. He ruffled Bain's hair scooting in between his children and taking baby Tilda into his arms. He smiled lightly as he poked at her rosy little cheeks. She gummed around with her mouth in hopes that it was a nipple, no such luck. The baby cooed and ahhed before falling into a deep sleep. You placed some bowls on the table and ladled the stew into them. The children's eyes lit up, and they greedily dug in. "Thank you" Bard said his eyes swimming in a sadness you couldn't even begin to comprehend. You all shared a meal Bard and his children sitting opposite you at the table. At the end of the meal Sigrid helped you clean the table off and wash up the dishes. Bard had already laid baby Tilda in her crib and Bain was nodding off in the bed. You smiled at the sounds of soft snores. When all was done you grabbed your basket and made for the door. Bard followed you out. "(y/n), let me walk you home." You tucked a strand of loose hair behind your ear looking up at him, "you better not, my father doesn't know I'm here, and warned me not to interact with you."

He nodded, and frowned. You put your hand up to his cheek, "Bard I know you must feel terribly lost, and saddened at your wife's passing right now. And I don't attempt to identify with your feelings of grief, but..." you trailed off looking into his deep brown eyes, stroking his cheek softly with your thumb. "But in time you will need to regain the strength to smile, and to laugh, and play. For your children's sake. If you remain like this you will pull them into the same darkness which you rest in now." The concern was shimmering in your deep (e/c) eyes. A small tear escaped his eye. He took your hand pulling you into a tight embrace. A deep sigh left the depths of him. "Yes, in time, but at this time I cannot even imagine how I will begin to set about that task." You smiled, leaning up and kissing him sweetly on the cheek. "Then allow me to help you. I will always be here for you and your children. Whatever you ask, I will help." And with that you pulled away from him. At the bottom of the steps you gave him a small wave and began your walk home.

I apologize for the utter fluffiness of this but I need to make (at least this BardxReader one) a two parter because of the nature of it. I'm the kind of person who believes that grief is very complex in nature and that it wouldn't be appropriate for someone in true mourning to be smutty. So save the date for part II which will be when they know each other better.