Supper that evening was... interesting.
They sat around the garden table the way they had used to do quite a lot when they were younger – and still did occasionally, when various responsibilities didn't keep most members of their group away.
There were additions, though.
Rake had a chubby toddler balanced on each knee – his year-and-a-half-old twins, Ada and Alain. Ordinarily Pepper would be holding one of the children, but she was so swollen with child again – due any day, in fact – that Rake was good-naturedly doing double duty. Seated between Jester and Smithy was Smithy's wife Susanna, a good-hearted town girl who was also expecting – although she'd only just begun to show. She had recently been helping the enormously pregnant Pepper in the kitchen quite a bit.
They talked of only lighthearted things, and laughed, and begged a song from Jester... and then another. No one brought up the fact that the king was due to pronounce judgment on the three prisoners in the morning. That would take care of itself in due time, but for now the evening was warm, the lantern-light was cheerful, the company – and food – were good, and there was an unspoken agreement all around the heavy-laden trestle table that the mood should remain upbeat.
But for all of this, both Gunther and Jane seemed a bit... distracted. They sat beside each other – close beside each other – but rarely made eye contact and when they did, one or the other would quickly look away. In fact, Pepper – who was observing all this from the corner of her eye, with a hand tactfully raised to hide her smile – was positive that at one point she even saw Jane blush.
Like the other denizens of the castle, she'd have been hard-pressed to miss Gunther's fierce show of devotion as Jane had fought her way back from death's door. No one had been positive, however, about whether Jane herself had felt the same way. She hadn't exactly been in any condition to ask. It was true that she had often called his name while delirious, but that didn't prove anything; it could just as easily be put down to their bond as comrades-in-arms. Now, though... Pepper was quite certain she recognized what was going on. Mismatched? She mused to herself, her secret smile widening. Not this time, I think.
She wondered, idly, when the wedding would be.
OOOOO
The moon was up, and had been for some time, when Gunther knocked quietly on Jane's door, then waited for an answer. He was just raising his hand to knock again when he heard her voice, sounding muffled and sleepy, call, "come in."
He opened the door and slipped inside, shutting it quietly behind him. He paused for a moment, debating… then threw the latch. And then he stayed where he was, letting his eyes adjust to the dimness; Jane, he saw, was already in bed.
"I woke you," he said softly. It was not a question. Her hair was even more of a glorious, rumpled mess than usual. He felt a small half-smile quirk his lips as he thought back to a time when that incredible mane of hair had been a source of intense consternation to him; the early days of their squire training when he hadn't known what to make of such an untamable mass of hair – or of the girl it belonged to. He had even once suggested that they cut it all off and weave it into a rope. She hadn't been keen on that idea, unsurprisingly.
He'd loved her even then. He certainly hadn't realized it yet, but...
In the present moment, her eyes were heavy-lidded and her movements slow, languid. "Yes," she said, "I drifted off waiting for you, but it is alright. I will sleep even better with you here." She'd been in the middle of the bed but now she scooted to the far edge, and patted the space beside her. "Come on, Sir Gunther, are you going to stand there all night?"
Feeling a bit as if he were moving in a dream himself, he crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, took off his boots and slipped in beside her under the coverlet.
Jane had been absolutely right; at the end of the day, Gunther reflected, she usually was. She had intuited that she would sleep better with him in the room, and that was exactly what happened, as far as Gunther could tell at any rate.
She nestled up to him, slung an arm about his waist, pushed her head in right under his chin, and was sound asleep in thirty seconds.
Gunther pulled in a deep breath, released it in a long, slightly unsteady sigh, curled an arm protectively around her, and was sound asleep in thirty more.
OOOOO
(A/N: next chapter things get a bit... "steamy". Nothing graphically descriptive but still, you understand what's going on. Consider yourself notified! ;)