It was early in the morning, so early that Loredas had changed from Fredas not long ago. Most nights she would have put the lamp out long ago, but tonight she just had a feeling that maybe, before she fell too deeply asleep, she would hear the sounds of someone opening the door, a creak of floorboards that was too loud and slow and deliberate to suggest one of the children coming over to their room after their nightmares about what might have happened to their Papa.

She remembered when Kogaan was still too young even to walk, wrapped up tight in a cradle in the corner of her room, and when it was Blaise who might cause the floorboards to creak in the night — although he never came to her at night that way, and indeed, never shared his nightmares with anyone as far as she knew. That was in their newlywed days, when each of his smiles seemed to stop her heart, when every intense gaze caused her to blush, and when every moment in his arms seemed too short. Before the baby had kept her up, she couldn't sleep half of the nights from worry, wondering what her new husband was doing, what new enemy or trial he might be facing while she was home baking and buying and telling Blaise 'No, you absolutely cannot keep the spider that followed you home.' She hated spiders. Always had.

Now, though...now things were different. Not a bad difference, by any means. With their fourth child, another Ashcroft boy to walk and talk and make messes—thank Mara for sending Brii the time before to break the male streak—and years having past since their first intoxicating moments together, their lives had relaxed into something calmer, sturdier, and steadier. It was a sort of steadiness which made his bold flirting warm her with confidence rather than a blush, and which made her trust enough in his ability to make it home again no matter what he faced that she could sleep at night, even if she still worried that Arkay would call him away sooner than she liked.

It was just gone three in the morning, though she had no way of knowing it, when she heard him creep in and sit on the other side of the bed to toe off his travelling boots.

"You couldn't have sent a message ahead?" she grumbled, her voice low and hazy with sleep.

"Couldn't have told you for sure when we'd be back," he replied wearily, loosening the ties on the front of his shirt. "Had to make a stop in Morthal, and we might have hit trouble in the south of Hjaalmarch, besides. Didn't want you to worry."

"Right." Quiet reigned as he tugged out the leather thong that held back part of his rust-colored hair and tossed it onto the bedside table.

She continued sleepily. "I swear Kogaan has grown at least half an inch since you were home last." Home. She almost chuckled. Sometimes, when she was tired or stuck in a daydream and the suddenly he was there, in front of her as he almost never was, it once again seemed absurd that a wanderer with the soul of a dragon who had seen tombs and caves and treasure would want a homestead, and a wife, and children. He was a man out of legends, literally, and yet the things he truly desired were some of the least legendary.

"Takes after his Papa, does he?" Her husband chuckled as he laid down behind her. With a slight 'hmpf' she scooted forward in bed, away from the heat of his body, teasing him.

"I wish you hadn't given him that damned dagger. He's barely nine, and without you around to teach him how to handle the thing, he nearly—"

"Divines, woman, I'm tired!" She felt a well-muscled arm thrown around her waist, pulling her back into a firm, warm chest. "No need to babble on now. We have two whole weeks, at least."

Two weeks?

Her hopes rose before she could smother them. It would not be the first time he had made a promise which he then had to break, but that breach of trust only happened in the direst of circumstances, and it seemed, at least recently, that circumstances had become less and less dire.

She turned her head back to look at him. "Why didn't you say so earlier?"

"Is that all you wanted to know?" She felt his warm chuckle against the top of her head, his breath gently lifting a few stray strands of dark hair. Without waiting for a response he turned back to the still-barely-burning lantern and whispered:

"Evenaar."

As their lips met, the room went dark.

This was a quick one-shot I couldn't get out of my head. Might lead to more. Thanks for reading.

~Ink