Heart of Fire

Summary: Cashore, K.: Fire. After the events of Bitterblue. Fire returns home: Some wounds never heal. OneShot- Fire, Brigan. Nash, Po, Saf and others.

Warning: -

Set: After the events of Bitterblue, 48 years after the events of Fire.

Disclaimer: Fire, Graceling and Bitterblue, the characters and settings, are the property of Kristin Cashore.

A/N: Sept 2013. Part 2 of a massive upload session. I won't do this too often, don't worry.

She felt him quite suddenly.

Fire's mind had been occupied with their surroundings up until this point: her travelling group had grown by far since they had left Monsea. The explorers and spies she had taken to Monsea to greet Queen Bitterblue were back with her again, except for the ambassador, who had chosen to stay. Additionally, they had brought a Lienid ambassador, dressed in leather clothes and wearing rings on his hands, gold in his ears and a very unhappy expression that, nevertheless, had nothing to do with his task. A sailor who wanted to explore the Pikkian Seas; another ambassador, this time to Monsea's Queen. All in all, there was a fair number of people to her traveling group. There were not too many for Fire to monitor all of them, though.

Instead, she had spent most of her time watching the Monseans, monitoring their surroundings for monsters and streching out her mind into the distance watchfully. The members of her travelling party weren't weak-minded, not by far. But they were untrained and unused to the Dellian Monsters and Fire did not wish for further interruptions of their trip. Because she wanted to be home soon, yes, but also for another reason entirely: winter had covered the Dells in a blanket of snow and ice. It made the sight of her home country all the more beautiful, white sheets and clear ice, and again Fire was struck speechless by how beautiful the Dells were at any time of the year. At the same time they were dangerous: the entrances to the tunnels they had passed through to reach Monsea were mostly covered by thick snow avalanches and those who weren't led down crippling slopes of rubble and ice. The Monseans seemed used to the cold, as were the Dellians. Which meant their journey was slow, but nonetheless progressed: they strove forward with a fierce determination that was not surprising. Every single member of the party wanted to reach a safe place and a warm hearth, and Fire was no exception.

Suddenly meant just that: After seventeen days of travel they had reached the Dellian plains. Passing a crippled tree on the plains while, at the same time, taking down a sparklingly orange monster that had been circling their party for hours and finally had decided the hunger was worse than the fear, the all-overpoweringly familiar sense of King's City flickered into being in her consciousness. Fire's heart leapt in her chest: Somewhere inside these safe walls was the person she had missed most for the past two months.

Somewhere in King's City was Brigan.

It took her a few more minutes to locate him even though it felt like an eternity. The party marched on, two of Brigan's guards (he had insisted they were to come and had specifically assigned four of them as Fire's permanent guard) picking up and stowing away the dead monster while the Monseans watched with a mixture of awe and horror. The Monsean ambassador, in Fire's eyes still a child even though he was the same age as the Monsean Queen and had been sent by her especially, had caught a cold on their travels and was sneezing into his scarf: Fire reminded herself to ask Mila to have a healing tea prepared for him as soon as they were there. She had not forgotten the way the Queen had looked at him: it wouldn't aid their peace dealings if this man was going to fall ill. She didn't think the Queen would blame them but then, you never knew. A shout from the guards alerted her: another monster was circling them. Safe in the ring of guards with their bows and swords, armed herself, Fire saw no need to refocus her attention: especially since a great collection of well-known minds had just appeared at the edge of her consciousness. With every step they took they grew clearer: so many familiar minds, all in one place. Clara and her son Arin and his wife and children, Nash and Mila and their whole clan, Daphne, Archer's daughter, among them, and so many, many more. All the people in the castle, Fran, the master of the stables, Riochelle in the kitchens, Myria and Rima, the two girls who helped Fire in the hospital, Lyanne, the head of healing – so many people who had, one way or another, become part of Fire's life and now were linked with her. And, in the middle of all of them, his mind burning as bright as it had all those years ago when she had first seen him ride into Roen's Fort: Brigan. He seemed busy, writing something or reading or thinking, somewhere close she could sense Hannah, her mind in the same concentrated state as her father's was in. So alike, the two of them- Her mind brushed theirs without them noticing. A fierce joy filled Fire.

I am home.

She couldn't help but send the short message. She felt Brigan's mind stutter, momentarily drawn away from whatever he was doing, wondering – and then understanding. Lighting up, encompassing her in a way only he ever had been able to. Even miles and hours away from him, Fire knew exactly what he was thinking. His consciousness had lost nothing of its sharpness. Images flowed through her: the cottage, a desk full of paperwork, a warm fireplace. Hannah's face, bright and smiling. The dim sense of a question.

Soon, she sent back. I have to see Nash first. I am bringing guests.

A wave of suspicion answered her. She allowed for it, as an inherent part of the man she loved. Be nice, she couldn't resist on sending. They have been on their best behavior. The mental equivalent of a snort followed her statement, then a sense of satisfaction as he finished drawing out a plan. Brigan would convey the message to Hannah and her stepdaughter would inform the King and take all the other necessary precautions. Since Garan's death Clara had continued to lead the spy network the twins had established in King's City, and when she finally had retired Hannah had taken over. Proving she had the same calculating mind and sense of duty her father had, Brigan's daughter had then proceeded to expand the network to a point in which Fire wondered whether it still was a network or a full-blown corporation, so far, it worked splendidly. It had been Hannah who had first known of the Monsean intruder – or, at least, Hannah had been the second to know. It had been Fire who had been keeping her eyes open and who had felt Lady Katsa breach their frontiers for the first time. Now, it wasn't that Fire expected the Monsean entourage to pose any danger. But a small demonstration of their abilities perhaps was called for.

Something else, from Brigan.

I know. Looking up into the sky, Fire watched another monster bird circle their group. Her hands, as usual, went to her hair – it was a useless gesture, since it was securely hidden under her scarf. Sometimes she wondered whether the silver strands that were now visible in her hair were as alluring to the monsters as her flaming red and pink mane always had been. She dismissed the thought of trying it out one time – she was too old for such kinds of experiments. Instead, she concentrated on Brigan: on the steady, familiar sense of his mind, the calmness he excluded – and the warmth in his heart that still offered her a resting place whenever she needed it. A sigh of relief in her mind, and a sudden, warm chuckle, accompanied by the deep sense of impatience. Fire smiled, fighting the undignified urge to start running.

I miss you too.

Nash had lost nothing of his charm.

Silver lined his temples and crow's feet had settled around his eyes – sure proof of the way he had grown into his title and how he still was able to see the world through the glas of humor. Refiandell, overall called Reff, Nash's eldest son, hovered at his father's side. Hannah stood at his other, partly obscured by the shadows. She gave no indication that she had recognized Fire, but Fire felt the joyous thoughts drift in her direction. She was looking forward to speaking with her adoptive daughter but for now there was no sign that Hannah, her husband Sax or her children Roen and Teresa were anything other than well.

"Welcome to King's City," Nash greeted the ambassadors. "From what I gather, you have had a long and torturous journey. I am sure the existence of the Dells and Pikkia have been a surprise many of you might not yet have completely overcome, and I apologize for the need to place hidden informants in your country for such a long time. With time, you will learn the history of my country and you will come to see it was necessary, from our point of view, to first establish whether a peaceful bond could be forged one day. This day has now come and I once again welcome you in The Dells."

Conversation was awkward. While Pikkians and Monseans seemed to share some rudimentary aspects of their language, which meant they more or less understood each other, Dellians were barely able to make out the dark, short sounds of the Monsean language. During the journey, Fire had talked to the Lienid ambassador quite a lot. His ability to read his environment surpassed almost everything Fire had ever seen, except her own powers. They had reached an understanding: Fire would project the words into his mind, and Prince Po would translate, especially since many of his people were afraid of what they called "Graceling Power" when it came to mind control. Fire, having met Larch herself, was inclined to understand their fears.

The Lienid and the Monsean Ambassador were introduced. Prince Po extended his King's greetings, and after a short second of awkwardness the young man did the same in the name of the Monsean Queen. Fire, who had promised herself she wouldn't read too much but nevertheless kept the strangers closely monitored, caught the same image she had seen a few times before: the girl queen, her hair standing wild, her face glowing in the soft light of a fire place while the windows were pelted with snow. She pulled back, startled, and felt both awkward and annoyed: the boy was exceedingly good at controlling his own thoughts but he couldn't help thinking of certain events, and those shattered his shield from the inside like a thrown object shattered the ice of a just-barely frozen lake. Prince Po's thoughts, on the other side, were sealed as tight as Brigan's had been the first time she had met him. Still, she sensed no threat from either one of the ambassadors, and she told Hannah.

"I am sure you are looking forward to a warm bath and a soft bed," Nash said and smiled enigmatically. "Rooms have been prepared for you. If you would extend me the honor to dine with me tonight? You will be called for when it is time."

"Thank you, King Nash," Prince Po said for all of them. "Will Lady Fire be present, too?"

His dark eyes were directed towards the King. He's blind, Fire sent both Nash and Hannah and felt Nash's surprise. It was quickly smothered. How well he was able to control his feelings now – she still marveled at it. The rash, over-emotional Nash she had gotten to know years ago would have probably set off a few of the honorable, stiff ambassadors he had to deal with throughout the years. Though his smile remained friendly and polite, though, she could sense the mischief that danced in his mind. He's not fallen for you, Fire, has he?

"It will be up to her, though I am sure we would benefit from her translations greatly," Nash replied easily.

Prince Po nodded and turned to her. "I hope we will see you tonight, Lady."

Of course he hasn't, Fire sent into Nash's mind acidly and received a chuckle. I wouldn't put it past you. You still are as beautiful as ever, Fire. – Stop that or I am going to tell Mila, she threatened but both of them knew she wasn't angry. A part of their routine had always remained: since the day she had saved him he had always known her mind, and she knew his. If Fire ever had had a brother – it would have been Nash.

Welcome back, Fire.

It's good to be back, Nash.

The Monseans departed while Fire, Nash, Reff, Hannah and a few guards remained. Fire's personal guards respectfully melted into the background while Nash gave an impatient wave.

"Leave us," he demanded, and his own guards did.

"Fire," he then said and opened his arms, but Hannah was faster. Making her way around the table she gave a wordless yell and fell into Fire's arms, and Fire hugged her close and kissed her head.

"It is so good to be back, love," she told the girl. Both arms around her, Hannah muttered something intelligible and remained like that for a few seconds before she pulled back and eyed Fire attentively.

"Are you alright?"

"I am," she answered lightly and gave Hannah's hands a squeeze. "No one tried to attack us in Monsea and the trip back was fairly uneventful, despite the weather. You will have the full account of our journey on your desk by tomorrow."

"I want a full account, too!" Nash complained, eyes twinkling, and pulled her into a tight hug as well. Fire extricated herself after a few heartbeats, laughing.

"You get the version suited for a King – the abbreviated one."

"Are you well, Fire? You look thinner." Nash's worried expression made her smile.

"I am fine, don't worry."

"Will you join us for dinner?" He inquired. "The kitchens have gone overboard when they heard they had to feed sixteen additional people tonight. Something about finding decent food in winter – I don't know why they're so picky, we have more than enough pickled and smoked goods in the basement if Hannah's boring reports are any indication."

"First of all, Uncle Nash," Hannah said, "These, as you call them, boring reports focused on the possibility of a siege and how long we would be able to withstand one. Second, you ordered the kitchens to serve traditional Dellian dishes, and those contain fruits and vegetables that aren't seasonal at all right now. And third…"

Nash groaned. "There is a third point?"

"And third," Hannah continued relentlessly, "Sixteen additional people are a kind of problem – because the banquet room hasn't been used for months and has to be cleaned first."

"I see you have it under control," Fire told her adoptive daughter. I'm proud of you.

"She keeps us on our toes," Reff said, who had remained in the background for the first greetings. Now he stepped forward, his black eyes a twinkling copy of his father's. His face, though, held Mila's delicate features. "Welcome back, Aunt."

Hugging him warmly, Fire laughed. "She has that gift, yes. It is good to see you, Reff. How are Zirah and the little ones?"

"They're well, thanks." Reff's face brightened even more. Then something occurred to him and his face went grim. "Nadia is worrying me, though." He was referring to his only daughter, who had turned seventeen this summer. "I think she lost her head. Hannah, what do you know about a guy named Leto? He's the son of an Earl, if I recall correctly. Earl White Haven?"

"Dear son," Nash said. "Are you trying to mess with your children's love life? Let me give you a friendly piece of advice." He winked at Fire and put an arm around his son. "Don't get involved."

Fire and Hannah laughed. "Should I have a talk with her first?" Hannah offered. "Or, even better, Fire might do it."

"I might," Fire said. "But as you all know very well, one shouldn't mettle with those things."

"But she's still too young…"

"Reff," Hannah interrupted her cousin mid-sentence, "She's seventeen. You know what Fire did when she was seventeen? Or my father, or yours?"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," Reff grumbled. "They saved the world. Message received, cousin. Still…" His face went from dark to hopeful. "Maybe I could just talk to him?"

"No," Fire told him and ruffled his hair. She had to get onto the tips of her toes for that action. When had they all grown so tall? Maybe I am shrinking. Her smile for Reff was genuine, and he smiled back. "I don't know about you, but I've spent the last two weeks either in caves or on horse-back and I want a bath and a new change of clothes as badly as the Monseans did. I will take my leave now. I will join you for dinner, though."

It wasn't a lie. She wanted a bath and a change, but she wanted to see Brigan more than anything else.

"Fire," Hannah said, a sudden discomfort passing her mind fleetingly. Fire froze, her heart wrenching under a sudden onslaught of unknown terror.

"What?", she demanded, sharper than she had intended.

"Fire," Nash repeated and held his hands open in a placating gesture. "Don't bite off our heads. Hannah just wanted to tell you that Brigan left a short time before you and the Monseans entered the palace premises. Hasn't he told you?"

Fire extended her mind to reach for Brigan: he was there, in the close vicinity of the castle, and nevertheless he wasn't there. Swallowing her disappointment, she turned back to Hannah, Nash and Reff.

"What happened?"

"Nothing, really." Her adoptive daughter was talking fast but there was no trace of a lie in her mind. "A farmer reported strange symptoms one of his horses was showing shortly before you returned. Father decided to accompany him and have a look at it."

Horses. Of course. "Horses," she said out loud. "What else." That explains why you didn't tell me, Lord Commander. Brigan's mind was occupied, but she sensed the hint of guilt.

"He said he would be back for dinner," Hannah supplied quickly.

"He'd better be," Fire murmured darkly and left to look for a hot, scented bath.

Despite the short notice, the kitchens and the staff had outdone themselves. The banquet hall sparkled with the light of the many candles and each dish was more elaborate than the last one. Fire sat a few seats down from Nash, next to Prince Po and opposite of Saphire, the Monsean ambassador. While Po looked quite contained – well, he was blind – Sapphire's eyes seemed to budge out of their sockets every time he saw something new. For Fire it was surprising, since from what she had seen of the Monsean court, Nash's castle was quite… anticlimactic. She watched him, smiling, as he sampled the dishes in front of him.

"I trust the meal is to your liking, Ambassador Sapphire."

The man looked up, an expression like a child caught with the hand in the candy jar. He saw her smile and swallowed.

"Yes, Lady, thank you. It is very good."

"How long have you been ambassador to the Queen?" Fire asked – mainly to give him something to hold on to, because she knew the answer already.

"Actually, this is the first time." He sounded unhappy.

"Well, you have to start somewhere," she said, trying to lighten his mood. "How do you like what you've seen of The Dells so far?"

"Oh." He perked up, sensing a less dangerous topic. "The landscape is lovely, and temperatures are similar to Monsea. And the Winged River is amazing! It looks like the Winged Bridge in Monsea-"

Appalled, he fell silent. Prince Po shook his head, but a small smile graced his lips.

"I understand the River has stood model for the bridge," Fire said lightly. "It is a remarkable piece of architecture." She turned to Prince Po. "What did you like most, Prince?"

Po was easy to talk to. His powers did not extend as far as hers – although he could sense the thoughts of the people around him, he could not control them – and he could not reach out with his own mind to talk to others. But he was open for other minds, constantly scanning his surroundings, and he reminded Fire of something she couldn't yet place.

"It must be pretty in summer," he just said, "when all the roofs are open and the sun reaches into the rooms."

Fire confirmed it. "I always long for summer when it is winter – and the other way round."

"Well, Lady," the Prince said and smiled, "That seems the natural course of life."

To that, Sapphire grimaced, but he did not disagree.

Mila offered the guests more wine. They respectfully declined but did not say no to the roka juice. "How long will you be staying?" The Queen asked. "Because this year, the Great Summer Festival takes place, and it is an amazing view. There will be fireworks over the Winged River, dances and whatnots. Everybody comes to spend a few days in King's City."

Sapphire looked like he would have preferred to be gone within the next seven hours. Prince Po smiled and offered he couldn't yet say how long they would stay since it would depend on the peace talks and King Nash, and on what kinds of agreements they would be making how fast.

"If you want to stay," Mila said and winked, "I could tell my husband to expand the negotiations…"

While everyone laughed, a door opened. Fire had monitored Brigan's arrival since he had mounted off his horse in the stables. He hadn't taken any detours: now he was there, in his plain, dark riding clothes, his hair mussed and his cheeks flushed from the cold wind. But his grey eyes were as steady as always. They swept the table, up and down – Fire felt two of the Monsean assistants-to-the-ambassador perk up in attention as their gazes fell on him – and then landed on her. Fire felt the impact – saw his gaze soften – and deliberately knotted her fingers into each other in order to avoid jumping up and throwing herself at him.

"Brother King," Brigan greeted Nash, "I apologize for the delay. You will be glad to hear that the sickness is nothing contagious."

"The royal stables are safe, then," Nash answered good-humoredly. "Ambassadors, Ladies and Gentlemen: Let me introduce to you my brother, the Lord Commander of my troupes, Brigan."

Brigan's place was right next to Nash, which made it impossible for her to talk to him. Still, Fire felt his eyes on her like glowing embers. She listened as someone inquired about the kind of horses Brigan bred and suddenly they were engrossed in talk.

"I'd like to see them once," the Lienid mused. Brigan gave him a smile – everyone who liked horses was welcome to him. Fire was listening with one ear while she chatted on with Sapphire and another Lienid.

"You are welcome to ride them, if your schedule allows for it. Just come to the stables, I will issue a note to my stable master. You might be able to accompany Lady Fire when she leaves for her daily rides."

He threw her an amused glance, knowing full well she had heard him even if she, technically, shouldn't have been able to. Fire glared at him.

"I would like that," the Lienid answered. If he had noticed something, he didn't say anything. Po watched her carefully.

And then the kitchen helpers brought in the desserts, and everyone else brought his attention back to the table. Fire, who suddenly did not feel like sweet cakes and ice cream anymore, crossed her arms and hoped time would pass quickly. Brigan's consciousness was shining with amusement at her childish behavior. She sent him a wave of resentment and watched him flinch, but the small smile only deepened.

At one point of the evening Fire, returning from a quick visit of the kitchens, found herself in a corridor in front of a tapestry made from monster hair. It depicted a coat-of-arms, red, violet and gold: a castle on a rock, surrounded by waves. Three silver lions were assembled around the castle. Somehow, Fire couldn't help but think it symbolic: the tapestry made her think of Bitterblue, and the Monsean Queen had mentioned there was an image of Fire somewhere in her palace, too. Of course it was a coincidence. Still, she found it oddly comforting.

"Fire."

Brigan was standing in the shadow of the well-lit corridor, directly behind her. She turned to find herself in the cage of his arms and leaned her forehead against his chest. His scent was familiar and welcoming. His arms tightened around her.

"Horses?" She asked him, her voice both amused and still-resentful. "Really, I would have thought you had grown up during all this time, Brigan."

"Horses," he confirmed and dropped a kiss to her head. His fingers were playing with the loose strands of her hair that cascaded down her back. "My one weakness. Besides Hannah, obviously, and you. And how funny you would talk about growing up…"

"So I'm third in line," she teased, jabbing his ribs for the last comment but otherwise ignoring it. "How good of you to inform me. And after forty years, too."

"I remember you more than jumping with joy at the opportunity to leave me for months," he challenged. "What good wife would leave her husband like that?"

Fire pretended to think about his words. "You are right. I am a bad wife. But you're a bad husband, too, so are we even?"

"Not really." He hummed: a steady, deep sound that reverberated through her body. Her hands crept higher, reached his hair. "You haven't greeted me properly yet."

"My mistake," she said in mock-horror, and then his intentions filtered through their connection and into her mind and her entire body lit up. She stumbled over the next words which were supposed to be witty, too, but failed embarrassingly. "I hadn't realized…"

"Fire," Brigan whispered as he leaned down, his eyes fixed on hers. "God, I've missed you."

"Someone will come along this corridor," she whispered back, their lips only millimeters apart. "Brigan…"

"So divert them," he said, and then he kissed her.

They were lucky nobody decided to use the particular corridor that minute, because Fire's mind was occupied with other things.

The fire in Roen's house was warm and comforting. The flames flickered over the walls: her own bedroom looked alien in its light. Strange how nothing had changed and she still sensed a change.

A girl with the strength of a castle, she told Brigan that evening, after the dinner had ended and everyone had withdrawn to his own rooms. A girl with the strength of a castle and a heart to encompass a whole kingdom.

"Well," Brigan said, glancing at her from where he was perched on their bed. He wore a lose shirt and breeches, his hair was tangled, with only thin strands of grey, and he still looked healthy and energetic. Fire sat at her vanity, dragging a brush through her tangled mane – useless, as usual – and admired him in her mirror. "Will it stretch out to encompass Nash's empire, too?"

"Oh, no, Brigan," she said, startled, and almost dropped the brush. "Didn't you listen? She's not such a person. She has a strong mind, she is very responsible. She won't start a war with us, she has enough at her hands in the Seven Kingdoms. And she's young, but she'll grow. She's on her way there already."

"So when will she reach the place you've picked for her?"

"I didn't pick out anything for her," Fire answered, indignantly. "And you know that."

His amusement was a warm spark in her heart and at the edges of her mind. Where his consciousness touched hers their connection glowed, golden and warm.

That's not fair, you know, she thought at him. Brigan frowned, his brows wandering all the way up into his hair.

What do you mean?

You're making fun of me and I can't defend myself.

Sitting up, he came over to her chair and carefully extracted a few strands of hair that had entangled themselves in her brush.

"Here, let me do this," he said gently and started brushing her hair, his hands rough and careful. Fire closed her eyes and felt his touch. "Have you lost weight?"

"Why keeps everyone asking me that?" She complained. "I am well."

"Because we love you, and we worry for you." Brigan leaned down. "Who asked you?"

"Nash."

Her husband chuckled wryly. "Of course he would notice."

Fire's hand came up to hold his wrist. "Brigan, you know-"

He kissed her hand, softly, and she shuddered. "I do, Fire." Her hand fell away and he continued to brush her hair, letting his fingers slide through it carefully.

Fire hesitated, then sighed.

She reminded me of myself.

He answered with a surge of love. What you did, you did because it had to be done.

Cansrel was a monster. In everything that mattered. But he loved me.

I am still grateful, Lady. Your actions saved my life.

In a way, she mused, I'm glad. The little Monsean Queen at least did not have to kill her own father. Brigan's hands ran through her hair, tender, adoring, she could feel his love for her like a warm shield between herself and the past. Closing her eyes, Fire leaned back against him. His heartbeat still was the most comforting sound in the world. There seem to be too many children in this world that are stricken with fathers that do not bring happiness to their children.

Yes.

And we cannot help them all.

No.

Fire sighed. It has been more than forty years, and yet I still feel the same. Some wounds never heal, do they?

"No," Brigan said softly into her ear. He was looking over her shoulder, his face next to hers where she saw them in the mirror. A green-eyed, red-haired monster and her grey-eyed Prince. "But time does go on."

"She will have a lot of trouble with the other kingdoms around hers, and with her people, too. They're still traumatized."

"She won't go through it alone. From what I hear, she has good people – and we will be there to help her, too." Brigan put aside the brush and offered her a hand. "You will be there to help her, Fire, the same way you helped Nash and the Dells. The same way you helped me."

She looked at his hand without taking it. "So it always comes down to this, doesn't it? You can never make those things disappear, you can never forget them, but you have to continue on. And in order to do that, you have to rely on other people?"

His gaze was very soft. "Yes. Mankind is weak, Fire. You should know that best of us. You fight it every day."

Fire closed her eyes. "I am tired of fighting."

"I know you are."

Her eyes fluttered open. "I don't mean it like that, Brigan-"

"I might be repeating myself, but I know. It's just…"He hesitated. "Remember what you asked me while we were still fighting Murgda, all those years ago?"

"I asked you – what did I ask you?" She scrunched her brow. "What, Brigan?"

"You asked whether you could take solace from my pain." His eyes were steel-grey and steady. "And you still can, Fire, but it is not just pain anymore. You give me strength. Take back what you need."

She remembered: a grey night, a cold tent. Tears, on his cheeks. Do you mind if I take strength from your beauty? She hadn't minded then. She didn't mind now.

Finally taking his offered hand, she let him draw her to her feet and into his arms.

Brigan?

Yes?

I love you.

He answered with his love for her, so all-encompassing she couldn't help but feel safe. Fire smiled into his chest, and then into his kiss.

Outside the windows, the snow fell in white, soft petals, covering the world.

A/N: I might have messed up the timelines here and there, if you find mistakes please let me know. I established it as the following: The journey from King's City to Monsea's capital takes roughly two-and-a-half weeks, one month the Dellians remained with Bitterblue – makes roughly two months of absence from King's City. We know Hannah took over Garan's and Clara's job, she must be around fifty-something, so Fire and Brigan (and Nash…) are in their early seventies? God. Their children must be around thirty to forty, too, so their children are in their late teens… In any case, I've kept them fit and young. I'm sure it is that way with Fire, but perhaps all Dellians age a bit slower. I'd like that very much.