Primrose had seen Olberic fight dozens of opponents, both man and beast, over the course of their travels these last few months. Several of these battles had pushed their group to the very limits of their endurance, requiring a coordinated effort and combined tactics to bring down their foe. The unflinchingly bold knight was never a man to shy away from a challenger and would cheerfully accept a duel anytime, regardless of the odds. His confidence was contagious and rightly so; to this point, the dancer had never seen anyone match his skill.

Not until she saw Olberic face off against Erhardt, that is.

Their styles were remarkably similar which was not a big surprise given their history and how long they had trained together. Olberic was taller and more powerfully built, a fact that Primrose (and the warmth uncoiling in her belly as she dwelled on the memory of those muscles) could happily attest to. What Erhardt lacked in sheer mass in comparison to his counterpart he more than made up for in speed. They wasted no time circling, taunting, or sizing each other up; they had been here before on the practice fields many, many times, and once in earnest. They knew each other better than they knew themselves in some ways, and despite the long years of separation and resentment, the moment their blades connected, all the pain and loss fell away and suddenly they were home.

Of course, that wasn't going to get in the way of a good fight.

In the end, with a howl fit to make the heavens tremble and a final vicious flurry of strikes, Erhardt was disarmed and thrown down and Olberic was victorious. The black-haired knight stands over his rival, panting as the adrenaline coursing through his veins slowly began to subside.

"I...I yield," Erhardt gasps, clutching his side. Their eyes meet over Olberic's blade and for just a moment, Primrose was unsure how the day was going to end. She sighs in relief when Olberic sheathes his weapon smoothly, leaning down to clasp forearms with Erhardt and tug him to his feet.

Seeing that whatever tension was left between the knights is gone, Primrose picks up Erhardt's sword and crosses over to him, flipping it in her hand to present it hilt first.

He accepts it with a smile, offering a courtly bow in return. "My thanks, m'lady...?"

"Primrose," she replies smoothly.

Olberic reaches for her, pulling her to his side. She tugs affectionately at the stray lock of hair dangling over his forehead, leaning into him with a smile. Olberic clears his throat, embarrassed. "Ah, right. Forgive me. Erhardt, allow me to present Lady Primrose Azelhart of Noblecourt. She and I have been traveling together for some time, alongside some other folks who I am certain you will meet soon enough."

"Traveling companions, eh?" Erhardt says, eyeing the dancer appreciatively as he sheathes his sword. "All of a sudden I find myself questioning my decision to settle down in Wellspring for any length of time."

She laughs softly, shaking her head. "We already heard half the women in town singing your praises, Sir Erhardt. Somehow, I feel as though you are doing alright for yourself here."

"Only half?" Erhardt gasps, clutching his heart in mock horror. "Gods above, I must be slipping," he grins wryly at her. "The circumstances could have been better, admittedly, but it truly is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Primrose."

"It could have been a lot worse. I am grateful to have the opportunity to know you. Please, though...just Prim, or Primrose, if you must," she replies. "The three of us will exhaust ourselves stumbling over titles if we do not draw a line somewhere, and my lineage calls to mind a time I'd rather not dwell on."

"Fair enough, Prim, and likewise." He glances at Olberic, his handsome face growing serious. "Tis a strange thing. I fought with everything I had, but it seemed you were protected by a greater power...and yet, for the first time in a long time, I regret nothing."

"Aye," Olberic nods.

The blond runs a hand through his unruly locks, a gesture so familiar to Primrose that she cannot help but laugh. Both men turn to peer at her quizzically and she shrugs one shoulder with a grin. "So, as much as I'm enjoying the ambiance here, are you boys finished? Everything out of your systems now?" she asks, a teasing tone in her sultry voice. "If we stay here any longer, Bale is likely to send a search party."

"You're not wrong," Erhardt says, heading for the exit. "Come along, you two. I don't know about you, but I could surely use a drink."


After a brief but jubilant reunion with the soldiers outside the cave, Bale leads the way back to town. Olberic rests his large hand on the small of Primrose's back as they walk, idly tracing tiny, deliberate patterns on her bare skin. The gentle movements of his calloused fingertips coupled with the warmth that suffuses her whenever he is close by are driving her to distraction and she is grateful that all of the attention is focused on her male companions for once.

Word of their return spreads quickly and Wellspring takes on a festive air as the locals begin preparing a celebratory feast for that afternoon. After their offers to assist are politely but firmly rebuffed, Erhardt declares that he is off for the tavern, a statement that turns the heads of several of the younger women. Olberic hesitates, glancing down at Primrose who appears lost in thought beside him.

"We'll join you shortly," Olberic says. Erhardt flashes a knowing grin and claps him on the shoulder before allowing a pair of bubbly dark-haired girls to lead him inside. The taller knight shakes his head in amusement. "Now this truly feels like old times," he remarks with a chuckle.

"Hm?" Primrose replies, focusing her attention on him. "What's that?"

"He always managed to find an alehouse and some...company after a fight," he replies. "It appears he hasn't lost his touch in the years since I've seen him."

"Oh? No drinking and carousing for you, then?" she asks quietly, slipping her arms around his neck and gazing up at him through her lashes. "My sweet choir boy. How you must have suffered."

"Choir boy, indeed." Olberic pulls her against him, running his hands down her sides and resting them on her waist. "I gave in to those urges occasionally, who wouldn't? I just never enjoyed the endless parade of women the way Erhardt did." She flashes a coquettish smile at him and his fingers tighten slightly. "Perhaps I was waiting for something better." He leans in, drawing her into a slow kiss and releasing her with a low groan a long moment later.

"Good answer," she purrs.

He brushes her lower lip with his thumb, his eyes dark. "Would it be rude to be late to our own party?"

"Oh, I am sure they can live without us for a little while," she murmurs, twining her fingers through his and leading him towards the inn.

They barely make it two steps into their room before Olberic kicks the door shut, grabbing Primrose and capturing her lips in a deep kiss. She begins tugging at his sword belt, her nimble fingers making short work of the buckles and tossing it aside, quickly followed by his tabard. Olberic chuckles as she fumbles with the straps binding his breastplate and covers her hands with his, gently pushing them aside and removing the armor himself with practiced movements.

"I'm amazed that you can even move under all of this," she mutters, pulling his shirt over his head to finally expose his skin. She runs her hands over the broad planes of his chest, humming appreciatively as his muscles twitch under her gentle touch.

"I hardly even notice it anymore," he replies, his deep voice rumbling out of his chest. Steel grey eyes intent on hers, he guides her backwards until her shoulders touch the wall. She reaches behind her neck to unclasp her dress and the gauzy material slides over her hips and drops to the floor. He closes the gap between them again, bracing his hands against the wall to either side of her and claiming her lips roughly as her hands slip into his waistband and wrap around his hard length. He breaks the kiss with a groan and she smiles against his lips, squeezing him steadily once more before releasing him, unfastening his pants and tugging them down.

He grips her hips and lifts her effortlessly, her legs eagerly wrapping around his waist. He holds still momentarily, watching her face, giving her time to adjust.

Her pulse pounds in her ears, her whole body throbbing in time with his. She drags her nails up his back and over his shoulders, scratching faint lines into his skin before tangling them in his hair. She tugs his head back and bends her mouth to his, nipping at his lower lip and shifting restlessly against him, desperate for him to move. "Please," she purrs into his mouth. "I need-"

Suddenly he pulls back and snaps his hips upwards. Her answering moan spurs him on and he repeats the motion, shifting his position to grip her upper thighs and brace her against the wall. She leans back, soft moans giving way to gasps and sharp cries as she voices her pleasure, her breasts heaving as he thrusts into her.

Gods help him, but he loved that bounce.

He knew she was getting close by the way her whole body tensed, arms and legs wrapping around him until all he could feel was her, all he could hear was her throaty voice whispering his name like a prayer, begging him not to stop. She clings to him as he relentlessly pumps into her, sharp white teeth sinking into his shoulder as her body crests that final wave and she comes apart in his arms. He finally succumbs to his own release a moment later, shuddering to a stop as she slowly relaxes her grip on his body.

He holds her against him a little while longer, unwilling to put her down just yet. She nuzzles his neck with a contented sigh, running her fingers through his hair and tugging on the ends affectionately. "You're going to have to let me go at some point, you know. Otherwise it's going to be very awkward when someone comes up here to see what's taking so long," she murmurs against his ear.

He chuckles softly, gently disengaging from her and setting her feet on the floor in front of him. She reaches up, taking his face in both of her hands and presses a gentle kiss to his lips. She turns and starts to reach for her discarded clothing but he stops her, his expression unreadable. She straightens, her eyebrows knitted in a concerned frown. "Olberic? What is it?"

"I love you," he says quietly. Primrose's eyes widen in surprise and for a moment he forgets to breathe. His mind races, desperately searching for something else to say, until her lips quirk upward in a beatific smile, brightening her features and lifting a weight off his heart that he wasn't aware of until that moment.

"Oh, Olberic," she breathes. "I love you, too."