by candlelight

by dippy

Summary:

Set post season 1 finale/episode 91.

Nouren is on edge. He’s scared, scared that Aaron would never wake up, scared that Clove is still in constant danger. All he wants is to protect them, and the Crimson Princess.

Or, Kharis sneaks into Nouren’s room at night.

The candle had burnt out long ago, leaving Nouren in darkness but he could not sleep. His mind was preoccupied with the week's events: the explosion in the prison, Aaron’s coma, the possibility of Clove’s weakness being revealed… and Kharis’ ankle, twisted and bandaged. It felt silly to linger on something like a wounded ankle when many were in a worse state. Nouren tried to tell himself it was only out of duty, his new place here in the Crimson Clan castle, his new loyalty to the Crimson royals and their sharp golden eyes. Those eyes… 

He rustles, fruitlessly trying to find a comfortable position. He felt his heart skip a beat, felt it in his throat, the way he often did when he thought of Kharis. He never expected to find it so damn easy to want to be loyal to her. When he had heard the marriage proposal, he had felt relief for an end of the conflict, but also deep fear for Clove’s safety. While the palace was still a dangerous pit of snakes (the gossiping ministers, the general with his strange eyes, the queen’s absent yet heavy presence, Prince Kyro, whom he was still weary of), Nouren felt like he and Aaron were almost adjusting too well with the palace guards. He feared Princess Kharis had disarmed him. His early mistrust of her slowly fell as he witnessed her kindness, her intelligence, her carefree charisma. 

A memory came to him - the night of the royal wedding. He remembered the hot shame he had felt down to his bones when Kharis had unmasked herself, revealing that she was the dancer he had been so captivated by. Her movements were fluid and graceful, capturing the attention of almost every man in the room. His heart had been pounding as he approached her and his head had spun as she laughed and slid her mask off with a slender hand. He tried to shake the memory of her dancing out of his head, before it became a problem he would have to handle. 

 

A soft sound caught his attention. A crack of light from his door, opening and closing again as a figure slipped in. He sat up fast and his hand twitched for a weapon but he recognised the silhouette and stride, especially with the limp. 

 

“Kharis?” he whispers into the dark, feeling silly again. Was this a dream? 

“Yes?” 

He hears her fidget as she lights a new candle. 

“What are you doing here, Princess?” 

She snorts a little at this. “I told you to drop the titles, Captain.” 

She sits down on the edge of his bed and her soft hand reaches for his calloused one. 

“I haven’t caught you alone since… you know.” 

“Yeah,” is all he can manage out, squeezing her hand, feeling it rest in his. The contact alone made his heart race even more and, in the quiet night, he was certain she would hear it. He takes her in, her dark hair messy and the warm candle light illuminating her bare face. There were bags under her eyes and a worried crease to her forehead, but she was as beautiful as ever. 

“Can I stay the night?” Kharis asks and Nouren feels like he’s been struck by lightning. His throat constricts but he coughs and manages out an affirmative. As she slips under the blanket with him, his heart pounds on and on and he fears his sternum will shatter against it. 

“Won’t someone notice?” he finally manages.

“I’ll slip back into my room before the maids come in the morning.”

He nods and wonders how she has been sleeping. No doubt she was sleeping poorly as well, having been underground herself. Nouren feels even more ashamed to have been thinking about her body earlier, as that same body now was pressed up against him as the two lay, hand in hand. 

 

“How have you been since the prison collapse?” she asks. 

“Busy,” he says. “Stressed too. But I shouldn’t complain. How’s your leg?” 

She laughs mirthlessly. “Kyro keeps telling me to rest but he also needs my help. It’s been an extreme week for everyone...

"Nouren.”

“Yes?” He turns his head to face her in the dim light. 

“Thank you for carrying me in there.”

“I was just doing my job. I should have stopped the traitors before they set off the gunpowder.” 

She moves her other hand, holding his between both of hers. 

“It was not your fault. We could all drive ourselves mad trying to think of how we could’ve been better. The explosion, Clove’s kidnapping, the war.”

The two fall silent again. Nouren tries to shake off the urge to kiss her. The two still hadn’t kissed yet, hadn't verbally acknowledged what was happening between them, but this was not the right time for that. The mood was too sombre for it and he was sure the princess had a million other things on her mind.

“I’m scared I’ll never dance again,” she says, confirming his worries. “Or rather, I’ll never dance the same.”

His heart aches for her. 

“I’m scared Aaron will never wake up, that he’ll die in his sleep any day now. I’m scared that I will fail to protect Clove.” 

‘I’m scared I will fail to protect you,’ his mind offers, but the words die in his throat as she lets go of his hand and and wraps herself around him. 

“Hold me,” she commands, her voice almost blending into the still night, but he hears her, feels her lips moving against his shoulder, and does so immediately. Sleep does not come easily, but with her in his arms, it certainly comes easier.