Ok y'all have no idea how excited but anxious I am to post these next two chapters. The next one will be set straight after. No more year gap.


Chapter Seven

Tori knew something wasn't right as soon as she woke up. Before she even saw her mother sitting at the foot of her bed, there was something in the air; a heavy silence instead of the usual bustle caused by Miranda – or more likely, Aunt Marge – moving about the small house. Tori quickly sat up, pushing dark brown hair back from her face to see her mother at the foot of the bed, staring down at her hands with eyebrows knitted together so tightly Tori could almost feel the wrinkles forming on her own skin.

"Mother?" she asked, alarm chasing away her grogginess. "What's wrong?"

Miranda continued to stare at her hands for the longest time. When she finally looked up at her daughter; her eyes shone with unshed tears. "My dear," she said softly, "I'm so sorry. I hate to have to ask this of you. You know I wouldn't if there were any other way. But do keep in mind that it's also what's best for you, as well…"

"What? Ask what? Mother, you're not making any sense."

"I…" Quite suddenly Miranda shook her head, as if clearing it, and stood up – with some difficulty. "What was I thinking, this early in the morning? No, no. Get yourself out of bed, love. Wash your face. Then we'll talk."

The speed with which Miranda's demeanor had changed left Tori disoriented, unable to gather her thoughts for a second or two. She felt a little irritated in spite of herself. How could her mother be so troubled one second and then just shake it off the next? In the end, though, Tori did as she was told – as was her habit – and when she was ready, sat down beside Miranda. But nothing could have prepared her for what she'd hear next.


That was days ago. Three, to be exact.

It was three days ago that Tori was told of what Miranda had planned for her. Three days ago that she stormed out after the horrible fight they'd had. Three days ago that she'd immediately regretted it; feeling guilty when she thought of the helplessly pleading look on her mother's face, or of what her father would say if he were alive at that moment. Sacrifices have to be made for the sake of family, always.And it was two days ago that Tori had returned to her mother, tail between her legs, and apologized.

"There is no need for apology, love," Miranda had said, her gnarled hands cupping her daughter's tear-stained face. "I'm the one who's sorry that you have to be in this situation."

"But I don't," Tori tried one last time. "Please, Mother, let me stay with you. I'll find work, I swear it. There are plenty of farms around here that need a hand. Just…please please don't make me do this."

Miranda caressed her daughter's cheek once more. "He demanded it, Tori. The plans have already been made."

"But–"

"Victoria," Miranda's voice was firm. "This is a good thing. I promise."

In the days since, Tori barely spoke to anyone except Violet, who talked enough for the both of them. She took special care to avoid Gwaine, dodging him whenever possible – walking the other way when she saw him in the street, avoiding his gaze when he tried to catch hers, claiming she had to be somewhere else when he managed to catch up to her. He knew her well enough to know that this behaviour was far from normal, so one day, he'd cornered her as she was leaving Violet's house and demanded to know what was going on.

"What d'you mean? Nothing's going on," Tori had said lamely, trying – but failing – to hold his gaze.

Gwaine's eyes narrowed, reproachful. "Don't lie to me, Tori. We both know you've been avoiding me. What is it? Did I say something? Do something?"

"No, I've just– I've been busy, all right? You're making a fuss out of nothing."

Gwaine gaped at her incredulously. "I'm not making a fuss, Tori," he'd said slowly, "I'm just wondering why my best friend is ignoring me."

Tori had stared at him then, with a look in her eyes that Gwaine couldn't quite place. Abruptly, she mumbled something about needing to get home, walking away before the sentence was even finished.

"Talk to you later, then," Gwaine had said to her retreating back, though he wasn't so sure. He stared after Tori long after she'd disappeared from his sight, feeling troubled. His friend – he thought the word sullenly – hadn't seemed herself the past few days, and not even Elen would tell him why. He wondered if Tori even remembered that it was his birthday tomorrow; his eighteenth birthday. The only reason he even remembered was because she was the one who had – before she started acting weird – reminded him, over and over and over again. Tori never forgot his birthday, and made sure it never went unnoticed. She always set aside her responsibilities for the day to spend it with him. Gwaine had told her, on numerous occasions, that she made too big a fuss over it, but she'd simply shrugged it off and joked, "Don't flatter yourself too much. It's more of an excuse to give myself a day off, more than anything."

Finally, Gwaine turned and went back to Timothy's home, figuring that whenever Tori was ready to, she'd tell him what was bothering her. She always did.

The next morning, Gwaine was unceremoniously woken up when a heavy hand roughly mussed up his hair. He heard Timothy's gravelly laughter. "Wake up, birthday boy; I've got somethin' for ya."

Gwaine groaned, refusing to open his eyes. "Later," he muttered into his pillow.

"It's not really from me though," Timothy continued, ignoring the teenager's morning grumpiness. "It's from your mother."

That got Gwaine's attention. He sat up so fast it took a moment before the world stopped spinning. He jumped out of bed and went over to where the blacksmith sat holding something small in his hands. Timothy hid the object from view before Gwaine could see what it was.

"What do you mean, it's from my mother?" Gwaine asked, sitting next to his guardian.

"She gave it to me to give to you."

"When?"

Timothy paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "The day before she passed. You were out looking for food, and she called me over to her. I think…I think she had a feeling she didn't have much time left."

Gwaine clenched his jaw, not wanting to remember how breakable his mother had looked in her final days.

"She told me, that when you turned eighteen, to give you this." Timothy relaxed his fisted hand to reveal a gleaming gold ring; a man's ring, by the look of it. Gwaine had seen it once before. His mother had kept it in a hand-sewn pocket under the mattress. It was the only thing they owned that had real value, but Michelle had refused to sell it.

"That's my father's ring," Gwaine stated.

"It's the ring he gave your mother when they were betrothed," Timothy said, holding it out to Gwaine, who simply stared at it. "She wanted you to have it."

Hesitantly, Gwaine picked up the ring, turning it over. It was a simple band; no embellishments or engravings, just smooth, polished metal. It was probably just wishful thinking, but it was as if Gwaine could feel his parents' history in the ring. His father a knight and his mother a farmer's daughter. They had made it, despite their love being looked down upon by…well, everyone. Gwaine tightened his fingers around the ring.

"And this is from me." Timothy reached behind him and pulled out a fine-looking dagger, gleaming in the early morning sunlight like the ocean at midday. "Happy birthday, my boy."

Gwaine smiled at the nickname. Timothy hadn't called him 'my boy' since he was eight years old. "Thank you, Tim," he said, taking the dagger and its sheath. The blacksmith nodded, clapped him on the shoulder and left the room, leaving him to his own devices.

Once Gwaine was washed and dressed, he packed the leftovers from last night's supper into a bag ready to take with him into the forest, as was tradition. For four years now, ever since Tori's father had forbidden her from seeing him, he and Tori would meet there to celebrate his birthday. For that one day, she was willing to set aside her aversion to the woods – on the condition that they would spend her birthday on the beach. Even after Jeremiah had passed, they'd continued doing this, even though they had no real reason to anymore. It simply felt nice to have something extra special to look forward to each year. Something that Gwaine and Tori shared between the two of them and no one else. Gwaine's mouth quirked up as a memory came to him, unbidden, of Tori's thirteenth birthday. They'd been lying on the sand, having just finished stuffing their faces with meat pies and fruits, when Tori had suddenly stood, bunched up her skirts and waded ankle-deep into the sea. Gwaine had only watched her, contemplating whether or not he should push her into the water when she turned towards him, beaming. The idea had come to Gwaine out of nowhere, and he hadn't hesitated.

He'd jumped up and began to strip.

Tori's face had been amused enough when it was only his shirt that he'd discarded, but when his hands reached down for the laces of his breeches, he could hear the alarm creep into her voice. "Gwaine…" and then "Gwaine!" when he'd swiftly pulled them down. When he looked back up, he saw that Tori had let go of her skirts, letting them touch the saltwater. He saw that her hands were otherwise occupied – covering her eyes. He'd laughed long and hard at that, and had kept laughing as he ran into the sea, much to Tori's irritation.

"Are you out of your mind?" she'd shouted in his general direction. "Put your clothes back on now! Gwaine!"

"Make me!"

"You arse! You're such a child!"

He chuckled. "Which one am I, a child or an arse?"

Exasperated, she'd whipped her hands away from her eyes to scowl at him, but – seeing how clear the water was – had immediately slapped them back to her face, which was so flushed by now that Gwaine almost drowned himself laughing.

There was a knock on the door that ripped Gwaine from the memory. To his chagrin, his heart skipped a beat.

"Happy birthday, Gwaine!" came the chorused shouts when he opened the door. Standing before him was a group of at least five girls – none of them Tori, he noticed. Of course she wouldn't be here, you fool, he chastised himself. She would be in the forest by now, in the field where they always met on this day. The girls in front of him now were all ones with whom he'd never spoken before, but they were all giggling, all tripping over each other to wish him the happiest birthday. They were sweet, he thought, and pretty enough, but none of them had the dark blue eyes he was looking for. The quietest of them, the one with the shyest smile, stepped forward and offered him one of Tobias's cupcakes. He accepted it graciously.

"Thank you, ladies," he managed to say, smiling easily. "I really appreciate it."

"D'you have any plans for today, Gwaine?" a little voice inquired. Gwaine looked down and saw a small girl he hadn't noticed before – she couldn't have been more than six years old, but her eyes were bold. "My sister really wants you to play with her."

"KIERRA," an older girl – probably the sister – shrieked, mortified, and grabbed a very puzzled Kierra by the arm, dragging her away. Gwaine almost burst out laughing. The other girls, also snickering, scurried away after Kierra and her sister, glowing with the thought that they had made his day. Once they were out of sight Gwaine let out his laughter, shaking his head. Finally he calmed himself down and grabbed the bag of food he'd packed earlier and made his way to the woods, smiling.


He'd been waiting for almost three hours now.

Gwaine judged that it was a little past noon, though he couldn't be entirely sure due to the dark, gloomy sky. It was going to rain. And soon.

Where is she?

They always met in the morning, so why wasn't she here yet? Gwaine thought – well, he'd been hoping that Tori's unusual behaviour from the past few days would have subsided by now. And if not, then surely she could put her problems aside for one day? He didn't mean to sound selfish but…it was his birthday. Tori had always been the one to make sure it didn't go uncelebrated.

After the second hour had passed, with no sign of her, Gwaine had reasoned that maybe her mother was having one of her attacks again. When Miranda had these attacks, she wasn't able to move at all for when she did, it would cause extreme pain. Gwaine had been at Tori's house the first time this had happened. All of them – Gwaine, Tori, Elen, Miranda and Aunt Marge – had been having a good time, talking about nothing in particular but laughing like mad, when Miranda had suddenly doubled over and cried out. The attack lasted forever, or that's what it seemed like. In truth, it was only several minutes. Several long, excruciating minutes. Tori hadn't left her mother's side the whole time; she stayed beside Miranda, holding her hand and stroking her sweat-drenched hair. She'd whispered things like, "It's all right, Mother, it'll pass. You're all right. You'll be okay," over and over again. Gwaine had had the feeling that she wasn't trying to convince only Miranda.

When the third hour passed by, Gwaine realized he was pacing. He wasn't able to tell anymore whether it was because he was worried or annoyed. Perhaps both. The thundering sky certainly wasn't improving his mood any. He was just about to leave when, behind him, the sound of a twig breaking made him freeze.

"Don't shoot!" Tori emerged from behind a tree with her hands defensively in the air, a small smile playing on her lips.

Gwaine relaxed, and found himself smiling as well. "I wasn't going to."

"Well, you never know," Tori said, shrugging. "You're always on hunter-mode in this place."

Suddenly Gwaine realized that Tori's smile didn't reach her eyes. He remembered his concerns from a few moments ago. "How's your mother?"

For a second, she seemed confused. "What? Oh, she's…fine. As fine as she ever gets, anyway."

Gwaine frowned. "So she hasn't had any attacks lately?"

At this, Tori's smile turned genuine. "No, not for a few days, thank God."

"So…the reason you're late isn't because you were taking care of her." It wasn't a question.

Tori stared at him, judging his tone. "No."

Now Gwaine was sure: he was annoyed. Furious, actually. "Then what the hell took you so long?"

"What—?"

"You were supposed to— I've been waiting— Why didn't you—?" He was having trouble finishing his sentences, that's how angry, irritated, hurt he was. And not just because she'd kept him waiting; that, he couldn't care less about. He didn't mind waiting for her. He was used to it. And God knows, he'd made her wait on more than one occasion. What he did mind was how she'd been acting the last several days. Avoiding him, dodging his questions, not trusting him enough to tell him what was bothering her.

"I'm going to ask you this one more time, Tori. What's wrong?" Gwaine sounded tired even to his own ears.

For a moment, it looked as if Tori would burst into tears – a prospect that terrified Gwaine. In all the years he had known her, he'd only seen her cry two times. Once, when her father died, and another, when Timothy's old horse Cloud fell ill and had to be put down. It seemed as if the third time would be today, but then Tori took a deep breath and composed herself.

"Well?" Gwaine softly prompted.

She hesitated a moment, gauging her next words carefully. "I'm sorry, Gwaine. I really am. I know I've been a lousy excuse for a friend lately—"

He frowned again at that word. Friend.

"—but I just…I can't tell you. I don't know how to. I'm sorry."

Gwaine closed his eyes; pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fine. So be it." He walked around Tori to pick up the bag of food – which was most likely spoiled by now – and slung it over his shoulder.

"Gwaine?" he heard Tori call from behind him, as he made to leave. "Gwaine!"

He turned back to face her, hearing the annoyance in her voice. To his surprise, she didn't look miserable and pained like she had just moments before; now her face was reproachful. What had he done wrong? Gwaine wondered.

"You seem to think this is all about you," Tori told him, "but it's not. It really has nothing to do with you."

He was stunned. "I don't think it's about m—"

"Oh, yes you do, or else you wouldn't be getting so worked up about my not telling you!"

"That's not why—"

"Just listen to me. I will tell you what's going on – actually, even if I never told you, you'd still find out in a few weeks, anyway – but the point is: I will tell you. But first you have to…let me come to terms with it. I have to deal with it on my own before I can say anything to you. Okay?"

"Fine," Gwaine said again, but this time he meant it. "Okay, fine."

"Okay." Tori half-laughed and half-sighed at the same time. And this time when she smiled, it touched her eyes. "So. Did we come here to fight, or to celebrate someone's birthday?"

"Are we still doing that?"

"Of course. That's what we normally do, isn't it?"

Gwaine scoffed. "There's nothing normal about today."

Tori's smile faded slightly at that. "That's true. But still…" Suddenly she took two long strides, closing the gap between Gwaine and herself, and wrapped her arms around him. "Happy birthday, Gwaine," she said quietly.

"Thanks."

Tori bit back her laughter at his stiffness. She knew that he was still holding on to some of the hurt, no matter how "fine" he said things were.

"I'm not letting go of you until you hug me back. Properly!" she added when he simply put a hand on her back. She felt his body shake in silent laughter as he hugged her back, tight.

After a long time, Gwaine finally said, "So d'you have a present for me, or what?"

Tori let him go and smiled. "Of course I do."

She reached down to unstring the laces of a small pouch she wore on a belt just above her hips, and pulled out something silver. As she handed it to Gwaine, she rambled. "It's not much, I know, but what can you expect when a seamstress tries to make jewellery with the help of a blacksmith? Neither of us should be allowed to make anything of the sort, though. Really, Tim and I were at each other's throats every time something went wrong. And that was almost all the time. But I wanted to do something different for you this year, not just make another shirt. It's a crescent moon. Well, it's supposed to be a crescent moon, anyway."

"Oh, really? I thought it was a crab claw," Gwaine said, grinning. Tori rolled her eyes at him, though he wasn't that far off. She looked down at the necklace she'd just given him; a simple chain, with a small pendant in the shape of Gwaine's favourite kind of moon.

"D'you like it?" she asked.

He smiled. "Can't you tell?"

"I don't know, you're just staring at it!"

At that, he laughed. "Just trying to figure out how to get it on."

"There's a clasp right there, you dolt. Or is it too small and delicate for your hands?"

"Yeah, all right, blame my hands and not your faulty craft-making."

"Shut up," Tori said, snatching the necklace from him. Gwaine watched her as she unclasped it easily – so much for faulty craft-making – and reached behind his neck to fasten it. He swallowed. They'd never been this close before; Tori's face was only a few inches from his own. She was shorter than him, but not by much. The top of her head came up to just above his nose. As she stepped back, he didn't fail to notice the slight redness in her cheeks, or how shallow her breathing had become, or the way her eyes flicked down to his mouth.

Tori's fingers trailed down the line of the chain to the crescent moon now resting comfortably just below Gwaine's throat. Before she could pull her hand away, Gwaine covered it with his, holding her there.

Tori glanced up at him. "What are you doing?"

"I don't know. I've just—I've missed you," he told her in a gentle voice she hadn't even known he possessed.

Her first instinct was to jokingly say that she hadn't gone anywhere, but something stopped her. There was something in Gwaine's face. She'd never seen his dark eyes look so unguarded, so…tender. She couldn't answer those eyes with a joke. "I've missed you, too, Gwaine."

The next thing Tori knew, he'd rested a hand behind her neck, the other around her waist and he was pulling her closer – with his hands, with his eyes, with…just him. Tori closed her eyes tight, hating this. Hating how much she wanted it, and hating how much she wasn't supposed to. They were so close now. So close. It took every ounce of willpower for Tori to say what she knew she had to.

"Wait, stop. Gwaine, I can't."