Almost home; it was such a vague notion.

After serving four long years in the military for Harv almost home meant no longer on active duty, making the trek back toward his home town. Ordinarily this involved the whole convoy and strategic timing to avoid harsh weather conditions. Such luxuries were saved for soldiers that followed orders blindly to a fault, something Harv found hard to do, especially when it involved putting his fellow soldiers and old school mates in jeopardy. He didn't have severance pay to work with or a way to wait out the winter some place safe and warm longer than a day. So instead, he risked the elements and plunged ahead on foot one day at a time. He was almost home.

He had been almost home for over two months now.

The snow was shin deep on the main road, save for the occasional pot-hole. His hands and face were numb from the cold. There was only so much a fur cloak could do under a constant bombardment of snowfall. Occasionally a large crack would echo through the trees as a branch fell victim to the weight of the snow. Otherwise, the only sound keeping him company was his own haggard breathing.

It was times like this that he wondered if he had done the right thing. Had it really made any difference? Or were two people suffering in the cold instead of one? He would never truly know either way. At least his conscious was clean.

The sun was starting to dip behind the trees. It would be the warmest hour of the day. He should take the time to rest now and regain some strength, but separate from the sun was another light between the trees. As the sunset started to fade into night, the light grew brighter. Perhaps tonight he could take proper shelter and maybe work to earn a few meals. His rations were starting to thin and he had no idea where the closest town was. If he could just get there before snowfall blinded his way he'd be okay, and hopefully, warm.

Harv reached the castle a few hours after nightfall. Overgrown vines had shriveled and died against the chipped stone walls of the large castle. One large spire, like a beacon in the night, was alight with torchlight. The rest of the windows were dark and covered. The entrance was blocked by an ornate set of iron doors, twisted into a pattern Harv didn't recognize. A stone raven had a bell clenched in its beak, Harv grabbed a tattered ribbon bell pull and the sound that echoed through the forest held an unnatural tone.

Something in the tower darted past the light source, briefly plunging the trees into darkness before flickering back to life. Harv held his breath, well aware he wore the road on his sleeve. Harv counted the minutes and rang the bell again. Once more the light flickered, this time in rapid succession. Just as Harv was about to turn away, a small cut door behind the iron gate opened.

A thin, pale figure buried in a plush robe looked up at him as if he were a ghost. In the limited lamp light, it almost seemed like the homeowner had purple eyes. They looked him up and down, then behind them, then back up at him. Harv coughed.

"Good evening, I know it's late, but I've been on the road for weeks trying to make it back home and I was hoping for a place to stay." Harv began. The person looked more apprehensive than before. "I'll do any kind of work you need in exchange, please." They looked him up and down again.

"Leave the sword outside and the armor." He finally said as he looked for the latch for the gate. His accent was similar to the dialect in Caliburry, perhaps he was closer than he thought.

"In the snow?"

"You can have your weapons or you can have shelter. Your choice." Harv hesitated, but his host only seemed keen on opening the door after he met his demands. The snow would be unkind to his gear, but it wasn't like he was going to need it anytime soon. As soon as the last of his plate male hit the ground, the gates were opened and he followed his host inside. The main hall of the castle was only a few degrees warmer than outside. It was hard to see any of the interior with just the lamp light. "Do you have a name?"

"Harv. Thank you, uh-"

"Finn." The blond man sighed. "There's a guest room of sorts in the back garden. It should be comfortable enough." Harv followed a few paces behind.

"Where is that?" His host froze and turned to look at him, almost scandalized.

"Don't you want to bathe first?"

"If I'm allowed, but it's freezing outside." Finn continued to stare him down.

"...and?" He shook his head. "The bath is this way." He lead him deeper into the castle to a room under the stairs. The interior was lined with a kind of stone Harv had never seen before, smooth and almost golden in hue. A large basin built into the floor was the rooms main feature, the rim against the wall covered in a large assortment of bottles. Finn lit a collection of candles that had melted into one another, pushed a lever, and hot water started to poor into the basin from the wall.

"How did- where does the water come from?" Finn shrugged. "That... that is water, isn't' it?"

"Of course it is." Finn rubbed his temples. "You know what, just, don't touch anything in this room except the inside of the tub." He wrinkled his nose and grabbed one of the bottles then after some thought a second one and dumped their contents into the water. Harv marveled how quickly the liquid soap turned into bubbles, a fragrant citrus smell filling the air. "This is shampoo." Finn handed him a bottle and Harv stared at it. The glass bottle had a shimmering oil of some kind in it. "You wash your hair with it; it's hair soap. Use as much as you need. In fact, just use the whole bottle. I'll be back in an hour to show you to your room." Finn turned off the water.

"An hour?" Finn ignored him and made his way to the door. "I don't need that much time."

"Don't be ridiculous, a good soak is at least thirty minutes." Finn left the room and the door swung shut behind him. Harv looked back at the frothy water and large collection of strangely labels bottles. There was something unnatural about this place. It both looked extremely old, but contained gadgets and things Harv had never heard of. He had heard stories like this, poor little travelers getting eaten by the fae or cursed for being a bad guest. There was a limit to how many more nights he could withstand sleeping on the frozen ground without falling victim to the elements. If he could just survive the night, he could pay off his debt and leave by noon at the latest.

He tentatively stuck a finger in the water and pulled it back. It didn't seem that dangerous. There was a gazing glass bolted into the wall over a smaller basin. He still kind of looked the same, though his facial hair was uneven and patchy along the cheeks. Shaving had been the least of his concerns on the road. If he had a whole hour to waste, he might as well make the most of it.

Finn never got visitors. Occasionally the odd house wife would muster the strength to knock on his door, only to find in dismay that there was no witch living in the enchanted forest anymore. As far as the court was concerned, Finn had disappeared along with her. Which was fine, safer, that's for sure. The only person who'd dare ring the bell at odd hours of the night was that blasted unicorn, shivering and full of blood lust. At least that was what Finn had thought when his nightly skin routine was interrupted, but the creature was always too easily distracted to ring twice.

The last thing he had expected was a soldier and a gullible one at that, or maybe just he desperate. Most men would sooner freeze to death then abandoned their only supplies for a stranger. Finn braved the cold once more and collected the sword and armor from the front step. They were well used, but not bloodied, a good sign perhaps. Still, it was best to keep anything dangerous in a place only Finn could find until the time came for this stranger to leave. He stole away to his mother's study and locked the items in a trunk.

In hindsight, he didn't give himself much time to prepare. What else was expected of him as a host? Probably food and proper sleep wear, but it was highly unlikely anything in the castle would fit someone of the warrior's build. And food, well, there were plenty of leftovers from today's feast. They'd be a little cold, but nothing a quick round in the oven couldn't fix. Finn ran to the princess's old prison in the garden and did his best to clear out anything too childish and shove it into the bottom drawer of the dresser. The linens were dusty and the small fireplace hadn't been swept out in ages, but it was at least more hospitable then the ground, so it would have to do.

After setting everything up Finn rushed back to the bathroom and hoped his guest hadn't accidentally messed with any of the potions in the cabinet. He offered a soft knock on the door as warning and entered the room.

"Did you..." Finn tried to find a kinder way to phrase it, but the state the warrior was in was simply unacceptable. "Did you seriously bathe only to put those dirty rags back on?" Caliburry soldiers were supposed to be barbarians in combat not day to day. Harv turned in surprise, his face much easier on the eyes, but Finn kept getting drawn back to the filthy tunic he threw back on.

"I don't have other cloths."

"Really, the army doesn't provide changes of cloths to their soldiers, what do they do with all that money then?" Finn rolled his eyes. Harv briefly seemed to mourn something, before shaking his head. "If you leave them outside of your room, I'll have them washed by morning."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet, you haven't seen the room."

The small fireplace had chased away the chill from the small guest room. Too sturdy to be called a shed, but too shabby to be considered part of the main house. All of the furniture in the room was small too, like a giant doll house. Harv wasn't one to complain. A dusty twin bed was better than the snow and he didn't have much use for tables or vanities, regardless of their size. Finn had left him to get acquainted with the quarters and pick out a change of clothes from an odd assortment of things Finn thought might fit.

His choices were a noble woman's lounge robe which probably wouldn't offer too much modesty or an extra large tunic that might have covered Finn to the knee but on Harv was a regular shirt. No briefs of any kind. Finn returned with a silver tray that had an assortment of meats, veggies and black tea.

"I wasn't sure what you'd like, so I brought a bit of everything." Finn adverted his gaze from Harv's tattered uniform. "It's not much, but... well it's not much." Finn set the tray down on the tiny table. "I will come back in the morning with your clothes clean and your list of duties. Change quickly, I'd like to limit how long I have to stand in the snow." Finn left again, but hovered by the door. Harv changed into the tunic and slipped the cloths through the door. "And the under clothes."

"But-"

"Precisely, butts are gross. Underclothes." Harv disliked feeling exposed, but Finn refused to leave until he handed him all his clothes from the road. "Goodnight Harvey." Finn started walking back to the house and Harv moved the tiny dresser in front of the door for peace of mind.

The food though, it was fit for a king, even if the portions were small. He had just been expecting some water and bread, not something so decadent. Boar's head, mincemeat pie, gingerbread and candied plums; these weren't just any delicacies they were for Yuletide. Yet the castle was devoid of any decoration or guests; it was cold and empty. It was also a bit odd that Finn was the one dropping off food and collecting things for the wash. Normally these kinds of places were teaming with servants, even while the master of the house was away. Surly he wasn't the only one on the property, there had to be a cook or a maid of some kind somewhere.

Harv took a bite of gingerbread, a wave of nostalgia hitting him. His family home so warm and full of life, while his younger brother would show off what treats he had pilfered through his friend in the palace. He wouldn't be getting his usual care package this year, so far from the front lines. Though they might already know that he had earned a Bad Conduct Discharge, regardless of the circumstances surrounding it. He had hoped he'd make it home in time for at least one holiday before spring came. An empty castle and festive leftovers could only mean one thing, he had missed all of it. He was still on the road, taking shelter in a strange place, in the middle of who knows where.

He was almost home.