Greetings! And welcome to my humble attempt to write a sequel. If you haven't read my fic Blood Games, go read that first. This fic will make a lot more sense if you do. Comments are always welcome :)
Prologue: Six months after their Handfasting
Kristoff bolted upright, gasping hard for breath, clutching the bed furs with hands shaking with visceral terror. Just a dream, he panted, desperate to convince himself. His pulse thundered in his ears, his veins flooded with the ghosts of old fears. J-just a dream…
But the fear was too strong, constricting his throat with tight bands of dread. He'd lost his family, his friends, half of his lifetime, and now that he's rebuilt so much of what he'd lost those old fears crept back up to torment him. Especially now, now that he had so much more to lose.
He wanted to be strong, to master the fear and anguish tormenting him on his own. To swallow it back down and bury it in the past where it belonged. Where it should have stayed. He tried, breathing through his nose in a vain attempt to control it on his own, but he couldn't. It's still there, scratching at his consciousness like a rat in a grain bin. He couldn't do it, not on his own. He glanced to his side, and only then did his racing heart start to quiet.
She was there, safe and warm and softly snoring.
She was the Lady Anatonia Ustrina, Imperiatrix Destinatus of the distant Roman Empire and beloved younger sister to the Empress herself. The former Gladiatrix of Gallia who could slice a man from gob to groin faster than a lightning strike. His beloved. His Anna. His wife. His little Aeris, as he called her during their sojourn in the ludus and still called her to this day, almost two years to the day he earned his rudis, the symbol of his freedom.
Though free, the following nineteen moons were arguably the worst of his life. That's saying a lot for a man who spent a decade as a slave, forced to fight and kill to survive and protect his one remaining friend after witnessing his parents' murders and their village's destruction. He'd lost so much in his young life, made to endure so many horrors, yet in his mind that paled to the year and a half without her smile. Without her fire. Without his heart.
It still amazed him that she travelled halfway across the world for him. That she, an Imperial Princess and heir to the throne of the mighty Roman Empire, chose him. She could live in warmth and modern splendor with the world at her feet, yet she chose to live simply with him here in the frozen northlands. He couldn't help but grin, remembering fondly her awkward yet enthusiastic forays into the village to make friends. Her stubborn yet self-deprecating laughter as she learned how to live and thrive in their much colder environment. Her stilted yet endearing stumblings as she learned their language. His people were drawn to her feisty nature as well as her prowess with her blades. It took some time, but eventually they welcomed and accepted her as one of their own.
He ran a tired palm over his face, rubbing grit from his eyes, scratching at the several days' worth of stubble on his jaw. Judging by the crazed state of her hair it was well past midnight, but still hours until dawn, which came earlier and earlier as the summer solstice approached.
He knew why his old fears of pain and loss haunted his dreams. What she told him earlier that evening stirred them up like bubbles in a peat bog.
He wanted to wake her. He should; the gods knew they both still fought nightmares. He lost count of how many times she woke him, or he woke her, trembling and disoriented and desperate for comfort. How many times they laid entwined, wiping away tears, soothing tensed muscles, the gentle rhythm of one heartbeat calming the other's racing one. He knew that if their roles were reversed he'd want her to wake him, no matter how tired he may be.
But he didn't wish to disturb her when she so greatly needed her rest. She hadn't been sleeping well for weeks, and he knew why now. So instead of waking her for comfort he laid down beside her and pulled her into the curve of his chest. She mumbled a bit before burrowing back into him with a contented sigh. He sighed too, finally relaxing. Her scent and her warmth soothed his soul and chased his fears back into their dens. He brushed his hand along her waist and rested his palm against the subtle little swell of her belly. The promise of things to come.
He smiled as he curled himself around her, safe and warm in his arms, and drifted back to sleep.
