A/N: I'm really not sure about this fic, so if it's bad, I'm sorry! I recently re-read ROTG, but I haven't read the others for a while, so I'm also worried about getting details wrong. If there's any obvious mistakes, again, sorry! Also, I love fluff. If you don't like fluff, I don't recommend reading my stories! :)
..........................
Daine stumbled down the narrow passage of the ship, cursing aloud as it listed violently and she was flung against the wall. Mithros' wrath on the fool who'd come up with the idea of traveling across water! Rough, stormy, unpredictable water, at that. Barely catching herself from tumbling down yet again, she glared at nothing in particular, and reluctantly supposed that she ought to be grateful no one was around to witness her tottering, unsteady gait.
'Two-leggers are so clumsy.'
Daine halted, braced herself against a wooden door, and frowned at the Captain's cat as he sailed airily past.
'Where are you going?' she asked curiously.
The enormous tabby's belly swayed as he walked – with a coveted sure- footedness – in the opposite direction, towards the lurching stairwell.
'To the brig,' the gargantuan animal explained, in a slightly haughty manner, 'I'm hungry. If I just lie down with my mouth open, some of those silly rats might tumble right in, the next time the ship rolls.'
Daine shook her head, and clutched at her roiling middle with one hand. It flopped over in protest at the very thought of eating anything, let alone rats.
Spreading her fingers against the reassuringly solid door, she let her head thump back against it gently, and sighed. They hadn't been on the ship above twelve nights now, and she was already craving the feel of solid ground beneath her feet. Anything but this fair wretched swaying!
She briefly toyed with the idea of taking bird-form for awhile. The memory of soaring weightlessly on the breeze was so close, and so tempting, that she could almost touch it... but she quelled the urge. Numair had forbidden her to leave the ship during storms, fearing that she might become lost, or lose her strength in the strong winds, or something silly like that. Her mind had wandered a little during that particular lecture. She could always ignore him, it would hardly be the first time, but he'd been so earnest and worried...and so uniquely persuasive.
Daine couldn't stop a blush as she remembered the form his persuasion had taken. Reaching up, she absently rubbed her hands over her burning face, as if trying to scrub the redness away.
A moment later, she was lying flat on her back and blinking up at the swaying ceiling in confusion.
A concerned face loomed over her, and the subject of her...rather indecent...thoughts let go of the doorknob and crouched at her side.
"Magelet," Numair said worriedly, touching her face, "Are you alright? I'm sorry, sweet. You must have been leaning against the door. I didn't know you were there..."
Gods, Daine thought wryly, the storm must be dulling her senses if she hadn't recognised whose room she'd stopped outside of. Especially since its occupant had been her reason for risking life and limb in this dratted corridor. She had to talk to him – and she'd been hoping to have the chance to...offer some persuasion of her own.
And now she was blushing again.
Actually, she mused, shifting around slightly, it was quite nice on the floor. Her belly wasn't protesting as passionately, and her body moved with the motion of the unsteady vessel – which sure beat being hurled into walls every second step.
"I was just coming to find you...sweetling?"
Belatedly, Daine realized that Numair was still talking, and reached up a hand to his lips, halting the apologetic monologue.
"I'm fine, Numair," she promised, her hand straying to smooth back an errant strand of black hair. Then she scowled. "Well, as fine as I can be on this Gods cursed boat!"
Numair tucked her hand into his, and squeezed it gently, rubbing his thumb over her sparkling betrothal ring.
"I know it's rough, magelet, but hopefully it won't be too many more days."
"One more day is too many," Daine said darkly.
There was a brief silence, and she shivered as Numair's other hand teased gently around the hem of her shirt, pulling it from her breeches and stroking the soft skin of her waist.
"Daine?"
"Mmm?"
"You're still on the floor."
Daine stretched contentedly.
"I know. It's the first time I've been comfortable for hours. Except..."
Frowning, she arched up and felt around beneath her back. Triumphantly, she hauled out an ancient-looking book, threads hanging from the spine, and waved it at Numair, cocking an amused brow. Looking around, her gaze fell on the many like it strewn across the floor.
She wondered if Numair had actually left anything back in Tortall, and asked.
He considered the question seriously.
"Well, I don't know anything about the Sailan Isles, so I thought I'd better bring...don't be sarcastic."
Daine grinned up at him cheekily.
"What are you doing all the way up there?" she asked the lanky mage.
Catching Numair off guard, she tugged hard on his hand, and giggled as he fell across her.
Her laughter abruptly stopped, however, when Numair – supporting his weight on his elbows – moved to lie more comfortably above her, his forehead resting against her own. Stretching out a leg, he kicked the door shut.
His lips – quirked in a wicked smile – met hers, and any lingering amusement faded as he kissed her, at first with gentle exploration and then with a growing urgency.
Daine twined her arms around his neck, and held him tight, her legs moving restlessly against his.
Lips skating down her cheek and along her jaw, Numair buried his face in her neck and nuzzled. For a long moment, he stayed like that, his breath tickling her flesh. She relaxed and closed her eyes, soothed by his warm weight and familiar scent.
Then, lifting his head, he butted his nose gently against hers and Daine – for once – found herself without words, as she looked into his eyes and saw the adoration and desire that burned brightly in them.
"I love you, magelet," he told her sincerely, shifting to lie against her side, arms encircling her tightly.
"And I love you back," Daine returned firmly.
Brief silence.
"But we have to get up."
"We do?" Numair didn't sound enthusiastic. He kissed her beneath her ear lobe and tugged gently on a brown curl. "Why?"
Daine couldn't remember.
"Because...uh...oh...Alanna."
"Alanna?" Numair walked playful fingers along her collarbone and rested his hand against the pulse point in her neck.
Her breath hitched.
"A- " she cleared her throat and pushed his hands away, mock-frowning at him, "Alanna wants to speak to us. So behave."
Numair inhaled sharply, catching the fingers that had moved to slide slyly beneath his shirt.
"If I have to behave, you have to behave," he informed her, grinning.
Reluctantly pushing himself to his feet, Numair straightened to his full height, and reached a hand down to help his rather disheveled love.
They sheepishly straightened their clothing and hair, and Daine rolled her eyes good-naturedly when Numair showed signs of fussing over his.
She walked – stumbled – to the door, groaning as her insides launched into full rebellion again.
Numair followed, catching and supporting her under the arms when the floor rolled.
"Remind me never to get on a ship again after this."
"We still have to get back to Tortall."
"I'll fly."
"You will not."
Daine frowned at him, knowing better than to argue. She'd learned to pick her battles with Numair. That way, she usually won.
"I may have to stay in the Sailan Isles then. I wonder what it's like there," she said, anticipation growing beside the nausea in her belly.
Several months ago, a Tortallan fleet had discovered the Sailan Isles, a kingdom about twenty nights' journey from their homeland. Tortall's eagerness to make contact with the Sailan people was apparently reciprocated, and Daine, Numair, Alanna and Queen Thayet were amongst those who had departed for the Isles. King Jon had stayed behind, to keep an eye on any potential trouble from the north.
Numair was particularly excited about the prospect of new territory, new developments, new research. Daine was beginning to doubt that she'd see much of him when they finally arrived.
She looked at him with a mixture of love and wry amusement. He'd launched into an enthusiastic speech about all the new reading he'd have to do.
Fortunately, she knew how to stop him.
Not caring who saw them right then, she reached up and pulled his head down to hers, sealing his lips with her own.
Within moments, Numair had forgotten all about his work.
"I wonder how advanced their mages are."
Almost.
..........................
Daine stumbled down the narrow passage of the ship, cursing aloud as it listed violently and she was flung against the wall. Mithros' wrath on the fool who'd come up with the idea of traveling across water! Rough, stormy, unpredictable water, at that. Barely catching herself from tumbling down yet again, she glared at nothing in particular, and reluctantly supposed that she ought to be grateful no one was around to witness her tottering, unsteady gait.
'Two-leggers are so clumsy.'
Daine halted, braced herself against a wooden door, and frowned at the Captain's cat as he sailed airily past.
'Where are you going?' she asked curiously.
The enormous tabby's belly swayed as he walked – with a coveted sure- footedness – in the opposite direction, towards the lurching stairwell.
'To the brig,' the gargantuan animal explained, in a slightly haughty manner, 'I'm hungry. If I just lie down with my mouth open, some of those silly rats might tumble right in, the next time the ship rolls.'
Daine shook her head, and clutched at her roiling middle with one hand. It flopped over in protest at the very thought of eating anything, let alone rats.
Spreading her fingers against the reassuringly solid door, she let her head thump back against it gently, and sighed. They hadn't been on the ship above twelve nights now, and she was already craving the feel of solid ground beneath her feet. Anything but this fair wretched swaying!
She briefly toyed with the idea of taking bird-form for awhile. The memory of soaring weightlessly on the breeze was so close, and so tempting, that she could almost touch it... but she quelled the urge. Numair had forbidden her to leave the ship during storms, fearing that she might become lost, or lose her strength in the strong winds, or something silly like that. Her mind had wandered a little during that particular lecture. She could always ignore him, it would hardly be the first time, but he'd been so earnest and worried...and so uniquely persuasive.
Daine couldn't stop a blush as she remembered the form his persuasion had taken. Reaching up, she absently rubbed her hands over her burning face, as if trying to scrub the redness away.
A moment later, she was lying flat on her back and blinking up at the swaying ceiling in confusion.
A concerned face loomed over her, and the subject of her...rather indecent...thoughts let go of the doorknob and crouched at her side.
"Magelet," Numair said worriedly, touching her face, "Are you alright? I'm sorry, sweet. You must have been leaning against the door. I didn't know you were there..."
Gods, Daine thought wryly, the storm must be dulling her senses if she hadn't recognised whose room she'd stopped outside of. Especially since its occupant had been her reason for risking life and limb in this dratted corridor. She had to talk to him – and she'd been hoping to have the chance to...offer some persuasion of her own.
And now she was blushing again.
Actually, she mused, shifting around slightly, it was quite nice on the floor. Her belly wasn't protesting as passionately, and her body moved with the motion of the unsteady vessel – which sure beat being hurled into walls every second step.
"I was just coming to find you...sweetling?"
Belatedly, Daine realized that Numair was still talking, and reached up a hand to his lips, halting the apologetic monologue.
"I'm fine, Numair," she promised, her hand straying to smooth back an errant strand of black hair. Then she scowled. "Well, as fine as I can be on this Gods cursed boat!"
Numair tucked her hand into his, and squeezed it gently, rubbing his thumb over her sparkling betrothal ring.
"I know it's rough, magelet, but hopefully it won't be too many more days."
"One more day is too many," Daine said darkly.
There was a brief silence, and she shivered as Numair's other hand teased gently around the hem of her shirt, pulling it from her breeches and stroking the soft skin of her waist.
"Daine?"
"Mmm?"
"You're still on the floor."
Daine stretched contentedly.
"I know. It's the first time I've been comfortable for hours. Except..."
Frowning, she arched up and felt around beneath her back. Triumphantly, she hauled out an ancient-looking book, threads hanging from the spine, and waved it at Numair, cocking an amused brow. Looking around, her gaze fell on the many like it strewn across the floor.
She wondered if Numair had actually left anything back in Tortall, and asked.
He considered the question seriously.
"Well, I don't know anything about the Sailan Isles, so I thought I'd better bring...don't be sarcastic."
Daine grinned up at him cheekily.
"What are you doing all the way up there?" she asked the lanky mage.
Catching Numair off guard, she tugged hard on his hand, and giggled as he fell across her.
Her laughter abruptly stopped, however, when Numair – supporting his weight on his elbows – moved to lie more comfortably above her, his forehead resting against her own. Stretching out a leg, he kicked the door shut.
His lips – quirked in a wicked smile – met hers, and any lingering amusement faded as he kissed her, at first with gentle exploration and then with a growing urgency.
Daine twined her arms around his neck, and held him tight, her legs moving restlessly against his.
Lips skating down her cheek and along her jaw, Numair buried his face in her neck and nuzzled. For a long moment, he stayed like that, his breath tickling her flesh. She relaxed and closed her eyes, soothed by his warm weight and familiar scent.
Then, lifting his head, he butted his nose gently against hers and Daine – for once – found herself without words, as she looked into his eyes and saw the adoration and desire that burned brightly in them.
"I love you, magelet," he told her sincerely, shifting to lie against her side, arms encircling her tightly.
"And I love you back," Daine returned firmly.
Brief silence.
"But we have to get up."
"We do?" Numair didn't sound enthusiastic. He kissed her beneath her ear lobe and tugged gently on a brown curl. "Why?"
Daine couldn't remember.
"Because...uh...oh...Alanna."
"Alanna?" Numair walked playful fingers along her collarbone and rested his hand against the pulse point in her neck.
Her breath hitched.
"A- " she cleared her throat and pushed his hands away, mock-frowning at him, "Alanna wants to speak to us. So behave."
Numair inhaled sharply, catching the fingers that had moved to slide slyly beneath his shirt.
"If I have to behave, you have to behave," he informed her, grinning.
Reluctantly pushing himself to his feet, Numair straightened to his full height, and reached a hand down to help his rather disheveled love.
They sheepishly straightened their clothing and hair, and Daine rolled her eyes good-naturedly when Numair showed signs of fussing over his.
She walked – stumbled – to the door, groaning as her insides launched into full rebellion again.
Numair followed, catching and supporting her under the arms when the floor rolled.
"Remind me never to get on a ship again after this."
"We still have to get back to Tortall."
"I'll fly."
"You will not."
Daine frowned at him, knowing better than to argue. She'd learned to pick her battles with Numair. That way, she usually won.
"I may have to stay in the Sailan Isles then. I wonder what it's like there," she said, anticipation growing beside the nausea in her belly.
Several months ago, a Tortallan fleet had discovered the Sailan Isles, a kingdom about twenty nights' journey from their homeland. Tortall's eagerness to make contact with the Sailan people was apparently reciprocated, and Daine, Numair, Alanna and Queen Thayet were amongst those who had departed for the Isles. King Jon had stayed behind, to keep an eye on any potential trouble from the north.
Numair was particularly excited about the prospect of new territory, new developments, new research. Daine was beginning to doubt that she'd see much of him when they finally arrived.
She looked at him with a mixture of love and wry amusement. He'd launched into an enthusiastic speech about all the new reading he'd have to do.
Fortunately, she knew how to stop him.
Not caring who saw them right then, she reached up and pulled his head down to hers, sealing his lips with her own.
Within moments, Numair had forgotten all about his work.
"I wonder how advanced their mages are."
Almost.