Smithy/Jane flufff for jatd4ever
Smithy was not an outspoken man. He did not write ballads or make public declarations, and although his heart beat strong and true, it was a steady, practical vessel.
But if love could be spoken in metal, as Smithy believed it could, then his feelings were easy to see when you knew where to look.
Jane's sword, knives and daggers were always sharp, her chain mail kept in perfect order, and her armour wrapped around her like a protective embrace.
Whenever she returned from battle he would examine each plate with care, and if any damage or weakness was found he would set to not only repairing but improving, until the armour of the wealthiest knight on the field could not compare in form and function.
Jane knew what it was to be admired, to be sung about and stared at and placed upon a pedestal until Jane, true Jane, was forgotten completely and only an idol remained.
She knew what it was like to be worried about, fretted over like some fragile thing who might never return from each adventure, incapable and unaccomplished.
But love? Oh, yes, Jane knew love.
Love was trust, and faith, and support. Understanding in her work and confidence in her ability, and determination to help her do better, to be better.
Love was fidelity, watching her leave with pride and welcoming her home with tenderness and patience.
Love was waiting, always waiting, in a warm forge, surrounded by tools and smelling of smoke and sweat, a pig snoring in the corner.
Love was strong arms and a steady heart, a sharp blade and immaculate tack.
Love was a knight and her blacksmith.