Disclaimer: I want them to be mine, but they're not. All credit to TP.

Numair had given her the option of riding with him or riding in the wagon, and since Alanna had backed him up, Daine made the trip back to Pirate's Swoop sitting astride Spots, Numair comfortingly at her back again. She never would have admitted it, but she was a little glad that they had both insisted. She was still exhausted, and simply getting herself up, bathed, and dressed had left her feeling weak and trembly. She was thankful to have Numair's arms around her as they rode, and had been enjoying the surreptitious caresses of his long fingers and the feather-light kisses he pressed against the back of her neck every now and then when he was confident Alanna was distracted.

Daine nearly fell as she slid from Spots's back when they finally arrived back at Numair's home, grasping at a stirrup to keep herself upright. Numair caught her deftly, one strong arm wrapping around her waist. Spots, too, leaned in to give her support, sensing her weakness. She stroked his neck gratefully.

"I guess you figure it's your job to take care of me now too," she said softly to the beautiful horse.

The Stork-man would have let you fall off already if it were not for me, she heard the horse say coolly. I did not know if he had any better sense when he is on the ground.

Daine giggled.

"I hate to interrupt what I'm sure is a riveting conversation," Numair began, "but I think you should get inside, where you can rest." He nodded to Owen, who had just appeared and smartly took Spots in hand.

Daine was absurdly thankful for Numair's arm still firmly wrapped around her waist; she wondered if there was a romantic way to suggest he carry her over the threshold again, as her legs felt as if they each weighed forty pounds and were attached to heavy stones. It was only a short walkway to the entrance, but at that moment, it felt like miles.

You can do this, she thought stubbornly, willing herself to take a step forward.

Her body disagreed, and she stumbled. Without another word, Numair swept her into his arms, holding her cradled against his chest. "You are still feeling the effects of your healing," he said softly. "Perhaps we should have stayed at Tameran a little longer. The trip has clearly exhausted you."

"I'll be fine once I can rest," Daine insisted, placing her arms around his neck and resting her head against his shoulder.

"I hope so," he answered wryly. "I, for one, do not want to face Alanna should you fall ill. I have seen her prowess with a sword."

She laughed again as the front door burst open to reveal a familiar short, plump woman.

"Oh, Master Numair, Owen tol' me what happened to our dear Mistress Salmalin. You poor, poor duck, being spirited away and you just married. Why, I was so worried I let a whole batch of bread burn almost black. Even the chickens didn't want it. But don't you worry now, Mistress, you're back home and I brought up a big pot of soup with some lovely fresh bread - I didn't let that batch burn, you can trust - and a good hearty meal and some rest and I know you'll be just as right as rain again. My, but I'm so happy to see you both!"

Daine felt more than heard Numair's low chuckle at the short, bustling woman's appearance and speech. "Thank you, Ardith," he said kindly. "It is heartening to come home to such a lovely greeting."

"Well, I got word 'round noon that you were coming back and I said, I am not letting them two come back to a cold house and Master Numair's cooking, not after all that poor girl went through. And you was probably worried sick the whole time, Master Numair, and I know what you're like when you're distracted, don't eat or sleep or anything. So now the fires are all done and you can have a nice dinner and then let that poor girl get to bed," Ardith bustled on. "You don't need me underfoot, but if you do, you know how to find me. And don't let that soup get cold."

"Thank you for everything, Ardith," Daine said gratefully. "I do hope we get a chance to sit and get to know each other sometime."

Ardith flapped her hand. "Oh, don't you even worry, Mistress Salmalin. We'll have us lots of cups of tea, I expect. I'm sure you know what this one is like when he gets into his books. Won't rouse for nothin'. You just come look me up those days, I'll make sure you're tended to and kept in good company. Now, Master Numair, you get that girl in the house out of this chill." With that she strode out of the house and stumped down the small path without a backwards glance.

"I probably need to increase her pay," Numair mused, watching her go. He carefully navigated Daine through the open door, being careful not to bump her head.

The room was filled with the scent of fresh bread and hearty beef stew, and a fire roared in the fireplace. "You definitely need to increase her pay," Daine answered, basking in the warmth as Numair set her in a large, soft chair in front of the fire. Gentle hands peeled away her cloak and replaced it with a lovely, soft colourful blanket that she suspected was more of Ardith's doing.

It was comfortingly domestic and mundane to sit quietly by the fire, watching Numair move about the kitchen, spooning the stew into bowls and cutting the bread. He refused to let her help, or even move, instead bringing the food to her on a tray.

"You know, if someone had told me before that this is what marriage was like, I wouldn't have waited so long," she teased. "I mean, being waited on hand and foot - a girl could get used to this."

Numair chuckled as he set the tray on a table near her. He leaned over her, using one elegant finger to tip her chin up. "Make no mistake, magelet. I expect to be paid for my services as well," he said wolfishly before pressing a kiss against her lips. He dropped light, tickling kisses across her cheeks, nose and forehead before pulling away, as Daine giggled.

They sat together as the sky darkened outside, talking quietly as they ate the delicious stew that Ardith had prepared. Numair told her about his youth at the university, his teachers and his classmates. She knew he'd shared those stories with few since coming to Tortall, wanting to put his Carthaki past behind him, but the recent events seemed to have made him nostalgic. She listened quietly as he told her about Tristan Staghorn as a student, about Emperor Ozorne and Varice Kingsford and their early days together.

"I often wonder if I missed some opportunity to change them, even then," he mused thoughtfully.

"Numair, don't be silly," she protested. "You were children!"

"Perhaps," he conceded. "But I could see many of the flaws that would later become their worst characteristics. Ozorne's need for power and control, Varice's desire to associate with the powerful, Tristan's maliciousness..."

"Children change," Daine insisted. "And besides, you weren't responsible for teaching them morality. Surely that should have fallen to your teachers!"

His eyes became wistful. "I'm not sure they were all well-suited to that particular task," he said quietly.

Daine leaned forward, reaching out to take his hand. "You can't fix the whole world, Numair," she said softly. "Though it's sweet that you want to." A playful grin danced at the edge of her mouth. "Now - enough of all the gloom and doom. Aren't you supposed to be telling me beautiful tales of romance so you can sweep me off my feet and have your way with me?"

Numair chuckled. "Of course, my fair maiden. Allow me to clear these dishes away so that the feet-sweeping may begin!"

She giggled as he pressed a brief, sweet kiss against her mouth, and another to her forehead before gathering their bowls and trays.

XxXxXxXx

Numair stared into the dancing flames before him, lulled by the quiet of the night and the crackling of the fire. Daine slept soundly cradled in his arms and he could think of nowhere else he wanted to be at this moment than right here, knowing she was safe. He knew that he should eventually transfer them both to the bedroom - his back would not thank him for a night spent sitting in this chair - but at the moment he was content to simply enjoy holding his beautiful wife in the night's stillness.

Unbidden, his mind wandered again back to Carthak - to Ozorne, and Varice, and Glissa, and Tristan. To people he had believed friends, until he had been forced to flee from them. When they had captured Julian Staghorn, he had screamed at Numair until his voice was hoarse, calling him a murderer and a traitor. For many years, Numair had felt like a traitor. Hiding out in crowded cities, afraid to use his magic, hiding himself - he had wanted desperately to go back to Carthak, to change his friends and make them see what he saw, so that they could all be together again. And he knew he could not do so.

He had spent his early years in Tortall keeping most people at arm's length. He didn't want to make friends just to find out they were someone he would have to run from again.

Except Alanna. He had tried to hold her away, but she'd have none of it. To her, he was like a lost puppy that needed a home, and she was determined to give him love even when he didn't want it. And then Onua, eventually Jonathan and Thayet… and then Daine. Daine had been like coming up for air. He felt like he recaptured the youth he'd lost when he fled Carthak when he first met her, full of energy and vivacity, those blue-grey eyes sparkling with mischief.

He shifted his arms as Daine curled into him closer, automatically rearranging the blanket that was draped over both of them. He really should move her to the bed.

He could hear the waves crashing into the shore below and remembered, with a grimace, watching Daine collapse while she sat next to those same waters because she was trying to make her heart "be quiet". His own heart had nearly stopped as well when she fell. And he had berated himself when he realized what she had done. How could he have been so stupid! Why hadn't he explained to her what she was doing, how her magic affected her? He had been as arrogant as any of his old classmates in assuming her magic was somehow less than his own - and she had nearly paid the price.

He remembered the chill that had spread down his spine when he looked at the letter that Ozorne claimed Daine had written, saying she was running away. Of course she hadn't written it, but the ruse was even more frightening. The idea that Daine was now at the mercy of Ozorne. It had taken every ounce of willpower he had not to tear the castle brick from brick. And the strange feeling that had spread through him when he realized the destruction that Daine had wrought when she believed Ozorne had killed him. The first inkling that she might care for him as he did for her.

"We've had quite the journey," he whispered against her hair.

"Mmmm?" Daine mumbled sleepily.

He smiled as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Time for bed, magelet," he said.

"Okay," she murmured, snuggling deeper into his hold.

Numair chuckled, carefully rising to his feet while holding the sleeping woman in his arms. He carried her into the adjacent bedroom, and with some coaxing and cajoling, he managed to strip off the light day dress and cotton shift she had borrowed from Lady Celine of Tameran for the trip home. He tucked Daine into the blankets before stoking up the fire and stripping off his own clothes. He slipped into the bed beside her, pulling her back into his arms and sighing as she snuggled back into his hold.

Of all the places he had been in his life, this was where he was meant to be.