Your name is Jade Harley and you are, as your beloved and late brother would say, "really quite all tuckered out". Snow days ... oh, you haven't had fun in winter in the last three years, not since you were fourteen and had to start living on your own. Today was wonderful! You made snow angels, built a few snowmen, had a proper snowball fight—Dave is good, really good, but your aim is on par with his dodging skills—and now you're finally back inside, trying to get warm again. Currently, you're all huddled up with Dave on the tiny, patched couch in the sitting room. You drink the last of your hot chocolate and reluctantly lean forward, away from his warmth, to put the mug on the table next to his, and then quickly snuggle back against him and pull the blanket up over your shoulders.

"Hey," he frowns, pulling it back down over his legs. "No fair. I'm a goddamn ice cube over here, too."

"But I'm so cold," you say, looking up at him pitifully. He doesn't look like he's gonna fall for the puppy eyes, though, and you're rapidly losing the ability to keep from laughing at how skeptical and deadpan he is, but then he huffs out a sigh.

"Oh my fucking god, fine," he relents. "Take the blanket. It's not like I need it too or anything. What the hell."

You can't help but giggle as you scoot in closer, laying your head on his shoulder. Wait—if you just lay your legs across his lap, like this, and nestle yourself close against his chest, the blanket doesn't have any gaps around either of you because you're not on one side of him anymore! Perfect. You glance up at him and see his cheeks and nose are bright red. Is he still that cold? Aw, poor Dave!

"Or... or do that, I guess, why not," he says. "Sure."

"I am good at improvising new solutions," you say, nodding to yourself. Dave snorts and settles his arms around you, letting silence fall for a little bit.

You close your eyes and lean against him, listening to the crackling of the fire and trying to thaw your hands by clasping them together in your lap. It's only a little bit effective, sadly. Dave leans his cheek against your hair and lets out a sigh as you open your eyes and glance up at him fondly again, seeing the hint of a little smile. He looks so peaceful right now...

Well, you have a brilliant idea as to how to disrupt that. And you only feel a little bad about it!

Shifting in his arms, you fidget with your cold hands for a second longer, and then make as if to slide an arm around him. Instead, you slip your hand under his shirt, against his bare, warm skin—

The sound he makes can best be described as a strangled shriek that rapidly turns into a string of swears as he shoves you away and you nearly roll off the couch, you're laughing so hard. As it is, you get all tangled up in the blanket and the sight of his crossed arms and frowny face is enough to send you into a whole new fit of the giggles.

"Wow," you manage after a second. "Wow, Dave, I never knew your voice could go that high—"

He lunges for you without warning and grabs you around the waist as you squeal and try to shake him off, and returns the favor with a cold hand on your lower back that makes you yelp. You grab his wrist and push him away, laughing breathlessly as he grins down at you. "We even?" he asks.

"Even," you say, trying to catch your breath as you lay there on your back and giggle some more every time you think about that shriek.

Dave leans over and grabs the blanket you're on top of, yanking it back towards him. "You've lost your cuddling privileges," he informs you, wrapping it around his shoulders. "It must suck to be you, all alone out there in the cold with only—"

"Only all the rest of the hot chocolate in the pot," you agree with affected sympathy, and then laugh at his incredulous expression.

"Oh, hell no. You're leaving half that shit for me," he frowns at you. You sit up and scoot closer again, regrettably not under the blanket this time, and grin cheerfully at him.

"I would," you say with an innocent shrug, "but you're not leaving me half the blanket! It's only fair, Dave."

He opens his mouth, thinks better of what he was about to say, and closes it again. "You, my lady," he says instead, "are a manipulative little shit." Then he peels the blanket from around himself and holds out his arms. "Get your exploitative ass over here and don't drink all my hot chocolate, then."

You gleefully clasp your hands together and chirp "Yay!" before you comply, more than happy to settle back down against his chest. He has the ends of the blanket in his hands and wraps his arms around you as you curl up between his legs, and you innocently snake one arm around his waist again.

"Don't even think about it, or I'm breaking off the fuckin' engagement," he warns sardonically.

"I wasn't gonna do anything!" you protest, laughing. The engagement. He is never going to stop joking about that, you're sure of it! You mean, it was a pretty impromptu idea and all, but you never thought that even months later it'd be a joke. But... knowing Dave, you should've expected it. Honestly.

Not that you mind, though. You think you'd be more than okay with marrying him. Sure, you've known him for less than a year, but he's not planning to leave you and you do love him a lot. And it's almost been a year, anyway. Grandpa always said that if anyone wanted to marry his little girl, there had to be a good long honorable courtship period, but... then again, Grandpa's not exactly here, now, is he?

And with that you're thinking about the nightmare-memory-flashback from this morning. Not a very pleasant reverie. You find yourself biting your lip and curling in on yourself a bit tighter. Dave notices.

"You that cold?" he asks wryly. You ... don't know what to say. Do you just say yeah, it's the cold, no big deal and try to hide it again? He didn't buy it this morning, but you didn't realize he was awake and you weren't trying to hide it this morning. But then again, you don't know if you want to go with your first instinct of hiding everything.

Apparently, taking forever to respond is a point that goes against the whole hiding stuff idea, because Dave shifts his arms around you, sliding one hand up to your chin to tip your head up so he can see you.

"Hey," he says, a hint of a concerned furrow in his brow. "Are you okay?"

You take a deep breath. "Just... just thinking about what I was thinking about this morning," you answer kind of timidly. Dave's concern seems to grow as he lets out a little ah and kind of awkwardly pulls you closer, letting you lay your head against his shoulder again. He leans back against the couch and hesitates for a moment, and then presses a kiss into your damp-from-melted-snow hair.

"Well, uh... if you wanna talk about it or, or anything, I'm here, okay?" he says. You can't help but smile, albeit a kind of wan smile, as you nod. It's... it's so nice, having someone around to care for you on these days. You could get used to this. You're a little scared to admit how important he's become to you, but you could definitely get used to this.

"I kind of want to stop thinking about it, honestly," you answer truthfully, the hand not wrapped around his waist coming up to rest on his shoulder. Your fingers trail down his sleeve and wrap around his upper arm, pulling him a little closer. He gets the message and holds you a bit tighter, and you try to remember if you've felt safe and secure and away from your inner demons like this, ever. Definitely not before he came along. Maybe when you were with Grandpa and Jake, but you didn't have this may problems, then.

"Okay," he says. "Uhhh... shit, what's something we could talk about..." He trails off, presumably to rack his brain for a topic. You run your index finger over the stitched patterns in the shirt he's wearing. It's one you bought for him at market a while ago, as soon as it was decided he'd stay, so he wouldn't have to keep using Jake's old things—you have to say, you hated lending even those few shirts and trousers out. Jake's clothes, the few that you salvaged from your old home before fleeing, are Jake's clothes, not anyone else's. Not even Dave, despite how much you love him.

You trace an embroidered spiral around his collarbone, following the design up to his shoulder, where it disappears around his neck. Then you trace your way back down, until your own head resting against his chest gets in the way. When you look up, he's regarding you with a little fond smile and something you can't quite place. He leans down and kisses your forehead. Then he goes kind of pink in the face and looks away, clearing his throat, but you smile at him and stretch up to peck his cheek.

"Thanks," you murmur.

"For what?" he asks, raising one eyebrow to give you this elegant, aloof, and kind of coolly disinterested expression. You wonder if it looks so practiced because he used it a lot when he was living in Derse, part of that noble family he said he wanted to get away from. He seems to realize he's giving you that look and apparently he doesn't mean to, because it shifts to a more open, inquisitively friendly one. You don't pay that much heed though, instead starting up your embroidery tracing again.

"Being here," you say simply. "It's really nice, not being alone anymore. And, for trying to make me feel better. It means a lot."

The hand resting on your lower back moves to catch your hand and hold it, over his heart. "Whoa, I haven't even actually done anything yet," he says. Then he goes quiet and gives you this funny look. You can almost see the cogs in his mind turning and turning and turning. "So ... you've been dealing with this shit all alone for all these years, huh." He sounds ... almost sad.

You don't want him to be sad, especially not on your account! "Yeah, but I mean—it isn't that bad," you say hastily. "I just complain about it, but it's fine, really, don't worry—"

"Jade," he cuts you off quietly. You fall silent, and he squeezes your hand comfortingly. "Well, you ... you don't have to deal with it on your own any more, okay? I'll be here from here on out."

You give him a grateful smile for not trying to make you admit to how horrible your last three winters have been. And for promising to be here for you from now onwards. "Thanks," you say again.

"Oh, hey, I have something I could tell you about," he suddenly says. "Remember how I said I'd tell you about it this morning?"

Your curiosity is piqued once again, and you eagerly latch onto a new thought instead of the old. "Yeah? What was it?"

"Weeeell... remember how I said my family's a bunch of rich-ass nobles back in Derse?" He sounds almost sheepish, and you meet his eyes with wide ones of your own. Was that not true? He lied to you? "That was true," he says quickly, "but it wasn't... the entire truth. I kind of just wanted to forget the entire truth, for a while."

Here he hesitates, so you gently prod, "What is it?"

He takes a breath and squares his shoulders a bit, and you rub his back soothingly. It's a little awkward because your hand is more or less trapped between his back and the cushions, but you make it work. "I wasn't just from some random fuckin' noble family or other. I kinda was ... third in line for the throne."

It clicks in your brain pretty easily. All those visions of Dave in a grand obsidian palace suddenly make so much more sense.

"Oh," you say.

"Oh?" he repeats kind of nervously. "Uh... you're not... mad that I didn't tell you, are you?"

"What? No, no!" You shake your head quickly. "If you were a prince, why were you on the battlefield?"

He huffs out a not-very-amused laugh. "Jade, I was third in line. You think I fucking mattered? It's all about the heir and the spare. Me and Rose—Rose is my younger sister by the way, we're twins but I'm older—weren't really necessary. I'm pretty sure we were probably accidents. And yeah, it's nice getting all the shit you ever want without having to worry about the responsibility of getting the throne later, but... I gotta admit, it's rough. It's really shitty, actually, knowing that your parents literally care about your older brother and sister more than you. And they say that to your face. And I just got so fed up that they were like okay Dave, since you're gonna act like a fuckface and not care about etiquette and rules, we're packing you off to win the royal house some glory on the warfront!" He stops, drops his gaze, and shakes his head slightly, scoffing. "As if the warfront has any fucking glory at all."

"It doesn't," you agree, and then because you have no idea what to say to that, you just squeeze his hand and press him close and nestle your head back against his shoulder. "If it's any consolation... I think you're wonderful."

He gives you a weak smile. "Thanks."

"Do you miss them?" you ask quietly.

Dave ponders that a second. "Kind of. Mostly Rose. Sometimes Roxy. Rarely Dirk. He and I never really saw eye to eye, y'know?" He pauses, and his face darkens a bit. "I don't miss my parents. Fuck them, honestly."

The idea of hating members of your own family is very foreign to you. You loved Grandpa and Jake with all your heart. You loved Jane and John too, when they were there—they were family on your dead mother's side, but they moved away when the war started getting close. Grandpa said he didn't want to go. The village was where he was born, and it was where he would stay. But you think Dave has the right to dislike his family, if they really told him he wasn't worth as much as his siblings. "I guess... that makes sense, yeah," you say.

He shrugs slightly. "Yeah. I thought about writing to her—Rose, I mean—but... I'm a fucking deserter now. That's punishable by death. And I don't want to get her in trouble by association if she gets caught with a letter from me or something."

A thought strikes you. "There are ... other manners of communication," you say a bit hesitantly. "Magic ones, I mean. I could ... get in touch with her for you, without letters, if you wanted."

"You could?" He sounds totally surprised. "Shit, I keep forgetting you know all these spells. Like, it literally never would have occurred to me that there are spells for long-distance communication. How the hell does that even work?"

"It just takes two reflective surfaces, one on either end," you explain. "And then it's a bit like scrying! The only hard thing will be getting her to know how to scry us back, but I think we could manage."

Dave runs a hand through his hair, blowing out a breath. "I dunno," he says. "I'll... I'll think about it."

"Okay!" you give him a quick smile. "If you want to, just let me know, okay?"

"Yeah," he says. "I'll do that."

Silence falls again, quiet and still but not awkward. It's full of the warmth seeping back into your bones and the crackling of the fire and Dave's heartbeat, under your clasped hands. You catch yourself smiling a little. Yes, you're sad for Grandpa and for Jake. But right now, with your little cottage in the depths of the forest that's not empty for the first time in your life, your heart feels happy and full and golden.

Dave shifts then, sitting up a bit straighter and looking down at you. "Well," he says. "Now that that wonderful spill-your-emotional-guts session is over, wanna pick our way through these sad, sob story inducing entrails and go finish the hot chocolate? And hell, the leftovers from breakfast, too?"

You wrinkle your nose. "I like how you combine a metaphor about entrails with a sentence about getting food," you complain, teasingly. It's kind of gross, but you don't really mind that much. "But yes."

"Awesome. We can play the floor is lava, but with gross emotional guts instead. Don't step in the kidneys, Jade," he adds as you start to get up. You stare at him a second and then droop back into his lap.

"Oh no, the kidneys! I don't trust myself on that floor," you say, striking a pose with your hand dramatically flung across your forehead as if you feel faint. "Noble knight, save me!"

"Well shit," he says, amused, as he gathers you into his arms and stands, the blanket draped around his shoulders like a precarious cape. "You can't go around fainting on me at the sight of teary blood, my lady. What are we gonna do when we're married and—"

"If you finish that with something about the marriage bed," you warn, "I will hit you with that pillow over there."

"What a threat," he deadpans, and you can't help but giggle. "How're you gonna get the pillow when your feet aren't touching the ground?"

"Magic," you answer, grinning triumphantly when he rolls his eyes. "You forgot about the random spells for everything again, didn't you?"

"I don't have to tell you a goddamn thing."

"That is so a yes."

He sets you down on the kitchen counter and grabs two clean mugs. "Maybe."

You hop down and duck under his arm to lift up the spelled pot that's been keeping the hot chocolate warm all this time so you can pour it into them both, and then put it down and hand him one. "Here. I think that's a yes."

Dave doesn't answer, taking a dramatically exaggerated swig of his hot chocolate. You nod to yourself and sip yours too, giving him a little smile when he glances at you and you catch his gaze. Sitting down on the stool, you let out a satisfied sigh as you think about the snowmen outside, about the remnants of the snowball fight still slowly dripping out of your coat and boots, about the icicles lining the edges of the house. Dave leans against the counter across from you, the blanket still clinging to his shoulders.

"Nice cape," you tell him, and he grins.

"It's the best fucking cape in the entire world," he tells you with a nod, tugging it up and over his arms so it's less likely to fall. "So damn majestic."

You laugh. "I don't know how my eyes are even handling all this majesty! It's too much!"

He tips the mug in your direction and takes another swig. "You must be special. But then, 'course you are. We wouldn't be engaged, otherwise."

"Aw, that was actually kinda sweet! I'm surprised!" you joke.

"What, do you think I'm some kind of asshole? Damn, do I have to court you like a cultured gentleman or something? I thought we were already betrothed. Fine, okay, I'll do that. Sweeter than the most saccharine extract from sugarcane and a pot of caramel combined."

"Wow," you say. "That's really sweet." What does he mean by courting you...? This whole engagement thing is a joke, right? ...Not that you'd ... mind a courtship, really. Quite the opposite. The thought makes your heart do these little excited flutters.

"I know," he says with a little smirk, nodding at you. "Buckle up and hold on to your saddle, my lady, and get ready for the courtship of your life."

You laugh. "Oh," you tease, "I can't wait!"

AN: Woooo I got my writing muse back! Expect more regular updates, especially now that I've settled in for college life.

Now question for you reviewers (pls review :D): There are two routes this story can take from here. Do you want the kind of angsty one or the pure fluff one? (To clarify: The angstier version is longer and more plotty, while the fluffy one is gonna be just the short cute romance that'll probably be done in another fiveish chapters. So if you want to know more backstory and what happened to Jane and John and etc, that'd be in the angstier version. Else, we can keep it short n sweet!)

Thanks for reading! You're the best!