The Rune/Ski Business - Part Two

[shayna611]

Chocolate #28. Longing with a Brownie


Story : knights
Rating : PG
Timeframe : the day after the previous piece
Word Count : 5588



A loud pounding on her door broke through her sleep, echoing so loudly in her head she felt as if her skull might burst. Ski threw off the covers, realizing she must have drawn them over her face some time ago to block out the nauseatingly bright light which now flooded her vision. Cradling her throbbing head in one trembling hand, she slipped from her bed and staggered towards the door.

She was momentarily confused by the fact that she was dressed for bed. She didn’t remember changing her clothes. As she thought about it, she had to admit there was a lot of the previous night which she didn’t quite remember. One distinct thought came to her as she tried in vain to sort through events lost in the haze of alcohol. She clearly remembered kissing Rune.

Ski caught the footboard in both hands to steady herself as she struggled to recall what had led to such a thing and what might have followed. Unable to answer either question, she wondered if, perhaps, it was only a dream. She clutched her aching head in response to another series of knocks from outside and called out, in a voice which she wasn’t certain even reached the door, that she would soon be there.

Unable to further collect her thoughts, she proceeded to the door. Laying one hand on the knob, she braced herself against the frame with the other and swung it open to find Rune standing on the other side. He was dressed in his traveling clothes and carried a package under one arm. One glimpse of the apprehensive look with which he greeted her was enough to assure her that the memory of kissing him was certainly no dream.

“Good morning,” he said, forcing a smile. “Or should I say ‘good afternoon‘?” Ski groaned. Had she really slept so long? Her hand returned to her head, pressing her fingers roughly into her forehead in an effort to contain the throbbing.

“Here,” he offered, reaching into a pocket in his cloak, and she wondered for a moment why he was dressed so and where he was intending to go. Still bemused, she threw her hand up out of reflex alone to catch the tiny vial he tossed her way. She turned the glass over in her hand, absently watching the amber liquid splash about inside.

Rune watched her expectantly. “Drink it,” he said at last. “It’ll help with the headache.”

She looked from Rune to the vial and back again. “Can you not…?” she made a vague gesture with her fingers in the air, at a loss for words.

“Sorry, that’s the best trick I know for hangovers.”

Ski popped the cap from the vial and gulped the fluid. The taste was not unpleasant, she noted, but the simple act of placing anything in her mouth made her stomach lurch. Although she didn’t expect to, she was a bit disappointed not to notice any immediate change.

“Thank you,” she said, returning the empty vial to him. He nodded and slipped it back into his pocket. “So, where are you going?” she asked.

“That depends,” he said.

“On what?”

He smiled nervously. “On whether you’ll join me.”

“I am hardly in any shape…” she began.

Rune dismissed her protest with a wave of his hand. “Give it a little time. You’ll be fine.”

“All right then,” she said, still confused. “Where are we going?”

His eyes fell sheepishly on the floor and a blush crept into his cheeks as he found himself cornered into saying what he must have intended to all along. “I feel bad about last night,” he started and Ski fervently wished she could remember just what it was that had happened. “And I was thinking maybe I could make it up to you, say with a um… a date?”

Ski wasn’t sure if it was shock or hangover, but it suddenly felt as if her stomach were in her throat. “A…um…ah… sure,” she said, blinking. She wished to the gods she could recall what she had done last night. “So where to, then?”

“It’s a surprise.” He took the package from under his arm and held it out to her. “You’ll be needing this.”

She accepted his offering and carefully stripped away the outer layer of cloth that bound it. Soft blue fabric was folded inside. She let the wrapping fall to the floor and unfolded a simple yet lovely blue cotton dress. She looked in confusion from the garment to Rune and then back again.

“No offense,” he said, “but you’d stand out for miles in anything you’ve got in your closet and I think you might have more fun if that wasn’t the case. Not that I could ever really disguise you as a commoner,” he quickly amended, “but it’s a step in the right direction.”

Ski looked at him expectantly, but he made no move to leave. “I will need a moment,” she said at last, though inwardly she wondered if she yet possessed the coordination she would need to dress herself.

“Yes, of course,” he said, backing hastily into the hall. Ski closed the door behind him.

She tossed the dress onto the bed and began unbuttoning her nightgown with great difficulty, as it seemed her hands were reluctant to obey any commands issued them. She slipped the fabric from her shoulders and let it fall, pooling at her feet. She pulled the dress over her head and slid it into place, forcing her arms through the sleeves and tugging the skirt down over her waist. Once it was securely fitted to her, she paused to examine herself in the looking glass.

The dress was modest but flattering, hugging her form as if it had been made for her, though she highly doubted Rune had the time or the measurements to have done so. It hung low off her shoulders, exposing her collarbone, but little beneath that, with long sleeves that fit snugly to her wrists. It was fitted to the waist where it flared out into a crisply pleated skirt which hung just past her knees. The dress bore no adornment aside from the simple laces to secure it in the back. Her uncharacteristically clumsy fingers were able to cinch the slender strands to her satisfaction, though she fumbled in any attempt to tie them.

Ski turned her attention to her hair and determined that, if she were to go anywhere at all, something had to be done with it. Sleeping on it still half styled had left it badly tangled. She took a comb from her dressing table and was pleasantly surprised when raking it through her hair caused her far less pain than she expected it would. The tonic must already be taking effect. It took a great deal of effort to reach a point she thought acceptable, and she was still certain she had not removed all the tangles, but, without the luxury of a bath, she gave that up as a lost cause.

The pounding in her head was beginning to subside, but the memories of the events of the previous night remained no less distant. The only thing she recalled with any certainty was the kiss, and her perception even of that was hazy. She remembered the feel of Rune’s lips on hers and his arms around her, but not how or why it had happened, and she had the distinct impression the decision had not been mutual.

Ski cursed Tess and Ilya for their need to involve themselves in things that were hardly their business. It seemed their foolish notions of her having feelings for the man were actually starting to take hold of her. She had floundered all night for a way to let him know. In the end, she supposed she got the point across. She wondered just how much of an impression she had made. Whatever she had done, Rune felt the need to ‘make it up to her’ and she figured that could not possibly be a good sign, but, if she dared ask him what it was, she was sure she would only look even more foolish.

She reached under the bed for a pair of boots, feeling another lurch in her stomach as she bent over. Leaning heavily on the edge of the bed, she pulled them on then rose, returning to the mirror to inspect how they complimented the dress. Satisfied with her appearance, aside from the blood shot eyes, which she was forced to admit she could do nothing about, she reached for the door.

Rune waited a few strides down the hall, leaning against the wall with his arms folded beneath his cloak. He looked up as she approached and she heard him utter an appreciative “Wow.” She smiled, her cheeks suddenly flushed with warmth. She was used to praise, used to drawing attention on the dance floor in all her finery, but this was different. No silk, no satin, no lace, no careful crafting of her hair; this was just her in a dress a peasant might wear, with hair barely tamed and blood shot eyes, alone in the hall with Rune. Rune, who never paid her appearance any notice, who was now staring at her in dumbfounded admiration. What could possibly have triggered such a change? She shook her head, not wanting to dwell on the matter.

“Would you mind?” She tossed her hair over her shoulder and offered him her back. His fingers grazed her skin as they took up the laces and worked them into a bow.

“I suppose I should fetch my cloak,” she said and ducked back into the room to retrieve it from its peg near the door. She shrugged her arms into the sleeves as she returned to the hall. The coat hung well below the hem of her dress. It may be beneficial that she not stand out wherever it was they were going, but she didn’t even want to think about the ramifications of anyone in the palace finding her dressed as a peasant.

The halls were all but vacant, as was typically the case following the ball. The few souls the pair encountered along their way passed them by with little more than a glance.

As the gates came into view, Rune suddenly stopped, putting a hand to his hip with a groan. Ski looked to him and raised a brow. “I left my money in my room.”

“No matter,” she said. “Whatever you have in mind, I am sure I have more than enough on me to cover-”

“I am not inviting you on a date and then asking you to pay for it. I won’t be long.” Before she could offer further protest, he took off back down the hall at a jog.

With a sigh, Ski began a slow pace about the hall.

“Masakari?”

Ski nearly jumped at the sound and hoped that the fact that her back was to the speaker had concealed her shock to some degree.

“Mother,” she said, composing herself enough to face her. The woman had an uncanny knack for showing up at the most inopportune times; something which Lyssa could well attest to.

“I gather you are headed into town to resupply?” her mother said.

Ski drew her cloak tighter and thanked the gods it was sufficient to hide her dress. “Yes,” she said hastily. “There are a few things we shall be needing for our return trip.”

Her mother cast her an appraising gaze and she wondered if her nerves were showing. “I spoke with Her Majesty last night,” she said.

Ski did her best not to cringe. While relieved at not being caught in what her mother would most certainly consider inappropriate behavior, she could see that this was clearly not going to be a pleasant conversation.

“I hear you have yet to accept Prince Terrel’s proposal,” her mother continued. “Nor have you declined.” Ski wondered how she could possibly make her disinterest in the lech any more obvious. Her mother must have been able to read it in her expression, because she sighed. “A royal would be a great asset-”

“Must you always think of the House?” Ski said. “What of me?”

Her eyes narrowed. “The House will one day be yours. I simply wish to ensure that you are prepared.”

“I have time.”

“Your time is not without limits.” Her stern expression was enough to silence any further protest. “I expect you will be giving His Highness an answer. I will not insist, though I do hope, that it will be a favorable one. If not, it is time you considered your options.” Ski meekly nodded.

“Well then,” her mother said. “I have things I must attend to, as, I am sure, do you. I will see you again before your departure and I anticipate your decision. Good day.”

“Good day, Mother,” she answered as the woman turned and strode back down the hall from which she had come. Ski wondered if she had gone to the trouble of tracking her down to lecture her or if the meeting had been one of chance.

There was a sound of additional footfalls. Rune gave her mother a brief greeting and a nervous bow, both of which were scarcely acknowledged. Ski breathed a sigh of relief that her mother had few words for him and both quickly resumed their pace.

“Are you alright?” he asked as he came to stand beside her.

“I am now,” she said, bringing a hand to rest on his arm. He raised an eyebrow, but did not pry any further.

“Let’s go then.”

They made their way down broad cobbled streets. Ski let Rune guide her along routes she could have traveled with ease even on a moonless night. In the warmth of the afternoon sun, the cloak that had served to get her out of the palace without notice was soon shed and tied around her waist. She’d seen Rune in heavy sleeves at the height of summer and wasn’t the least surprised that he kept his.

The roads, in time, gave way to those that were in less repair. The elegant homes and storefronts that populated the inner city receded, and ones with roofs of mismatched shingles and walls of more rough hewn brick, as the ones she had become accustomed to seeing in the villages around the fort, took their place.

The smells and the sounds found their way to her before she caught sight of their destination. She inhaled deeply of the sugar-laden air, thankful again for the tonic Rune had given her as she was sure the scent would have otherwise made her quite ill.

“Hungry?” he asked, and she was forced to admit she was.

They turned a corner and it was as if they had stepped into another town altogether. Streamers of brightly colored cloth hung from the weathered awnings of the shops and spiraled around lampposts. Flower petals littered the ground. Stalls that were no more than dining room tables dragged into the street lined the pavement, laden with food and goods. Locals, young and old, milled about, talking and laughing, pausing to examine or to buy from the makeshift shops. A table selling pastries caught Rune’s attention and he reached for his wallet as he headed for it.

“I’ve never been able to make these right,” he said as he returned with a pair of small round cakes drenched in sticky glaze.

Ski’s eyes widened, not at the pastry, but at the man pressing it into her hand. “Something you cannot cook? I am inclined not to believe that.”

Rune shrugged. “They just never turn out quite like I remember.” He took a bite of his own and studied it a moment. “Not Berna’s,” he said. “But not bad. Better than mine.”

Ski tore a corner from the flaky, cinnamon and sugar filled pastry and popped it into her mouth. It all but melted on her tongue. “You will have to give it another try sometime and let me be the judge of that.” He laughed, and she quickly realized it was at the fact that she was licking the icing off her fingers and let the offending hand fall back at her side.

The two strolled down the decorated street, quietly finishing the pastries. When the last crumbs were gone, Ski waited until Rune wasn’t looking and ducked her head to the side to clean her sticky fingers with her tongue.

“Pretty good, huh?” Ski whirled round, forcing her hands down, to find him grinning at her. She hoped her blush didn’t look as intense as it felt.

They rounded a corner, past a broad terrace where a group of young men were dragging more tables into view. The festive decorations and crowded stalls continued down this new path.

“Hey there!” Both turned their heads at the girl’s voice. Dark eyes settled on Rune with a playful glint from under a crown of daisies. More wreaths trimmed in colorful blooms hung round her arms and she held a fistful of gleaming blades.

“Me?” said Rune, eyeing the knives.

“Yeah,” she said. “How about winning something pretty for your lady?”

Rune’s gaze followed her gesture behind her to the large painted target propped against a nearby wall and he grew a shade paler as his eyes fell back on the knives. “I… er…”

“Come on now, you want to impress the girl, don’t you?” Her eyes passed over him, head to toe and back again, before drifting to Ski. “I’m guessing you can use whatever chance you might get.”

Rune frowned and color rose in his cheeks. “You strike low,” he said, pulling a few coins from his wallet.

“Ah, but my aim was good, “ said the girl, still grinning. He shook his head as the money exchanged hands. “Three tries. Land one in the red to win.”

“Rune,” Ski started, as he took the knives from the girl’s hand. A foolish grin was his only response and it was her turn to shake her head.

He found the line on the ground and took aim. The first knife sailed through the air, only to turn over and strike the board with its pommel before falling to the ground. Rune’s face burned red and Ski fought to suppress the urge to laugh.

Taking a moment to pace before the line, he shook his head and gave his collar a tug. The second knife slid from his left hand to the right. He raised the blade, aiming it and a thoughtful frown at the target. Rune let the weapon fly and this time it stayed straight in the air, settling deep into the outer regions of the target. Ski put a hand to her mouth and the girl bit back a laugh as she poured the coins from one hand to the other and back. More than one of the passersby who had stopped to watch the spectacle failed to conceal their own amusement. Rune buried his face in his hand and Ski wondered if he wished more to laugh at himself or to hide.

“Rune,” Ski said, laying a hand on his arm as he took up the third knife. Nervous blue eyes met her own. “You need not.”

“But-”

“You think this is going to impress me?” Crestfallen, he flushed an even deeper shade of red. Ski put a hand to her temple, shaking her head at how insulting she must have sounded. “What I mean to so say is, do you truly think you need to impress me?” She slipped the knife from his grasp and tossed it in the direction of the target without bothering to look to see where it landed. “I thought you knew me better-” Her words were swallowed up by the applause of those gathered around them.

“And the lady wins her own reward.” There was a rustling and a light weight as the crown of blue daisies settled on her head.

“I… what?” said Ski, looking from the girl to the crowd to the target with the dagger embedded in its center.

Rune folded his arms across his chest and shook his head. “Have another go at it?” the girl asked him.

“I’ll pass,” he said, turning away.

“Rune,” Ski said, hurrying after him. “I did not mean-”

“What?” he said, slowing his pace so she could catch up. “To make me look like a fool? I was doing a good enough job of that myself.”

“That was my point,” she said. He whirled to face her, pale brows knit over sharp blue eyes. Her hand found its way to his arm; she felt him tense beneath it. “You need not make a fool of yourself on my account. The Rune I know is no one’s fool. It is,” she smiled as she pulled her hand away, “It’s one of the things I love about you.”

The creases in his brow subsided, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he might laugh. He shook his head as he turned back to walking. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said.

She followed along in silence, wondering how it was that a town she had lived in for so long could become so completely unfamiliar just by tossing enough streamers at it. Ahead, Rune’s steps became hollow as the path arced over one of the narrow channels that fed into the city. He paused, long arms coming to rest on the rail of the bridge, and stared into the water. Ski stopped beside him, her own hands settling on the weathered wood.

“You know,” he said. “Sometimes it’s not such a bad thing.”

“What?”

“Making a fool of yourself.” He turned to look at her, his lips twisted into a half-smile. She found herself focusing on them, remembering the way they had felt on hers last night, and quickly forced her eyes to the water.

“I am sure,” she said, “that I did more than enough of that last night.”

A hand settled on her back and, though she didn’t hear him laugh, she felt it. “Like I said, not such a bad thing.” He gave her a pat. “Wouldn’t be here otherwise.” She turned, wondering if she had the courage yet to ask just what that meant, but he was already on his way.

“So where are we headed now?” she asked.

Rune came to a halt. His hands sinking into the pockets of his cloak, he shrugged. “Not sure,” he said. “There isn’t exactly much point in me trying any more games, is there? And I don’t suppose it would be fair if you did,” he added with a grin. “You might put folks out of business.”

“Might I make a suggestion?” she said.

“Don’t see why not.”

“We are nearly back to the main marketplace,” she said, taking the lead. “There is a park not far from here. I think you might like it.”

Another turn and a few more blocks brought them back to well kept streets. Sadly, the streamers and the stalls thinned as the more dignified shops came into view. Ski made a sharp turn just before the plaza, heading north. The two crested a low hill where the buildings suddenly gave way. From behind, she heard Rune’s sharp intake of breath as he caught sight of the park.

A patchwork of carefully maintained lawn and flowerbeds lay before them. Even as fall encroached, the gardens still bore a number of flowers. Another few minutes of walking brought them past rows of red and golden blossoms. Ski strolled through the grass, pausing now and then while Rune stooped to examine a plant.

“I’ve never even seen some of these,” he said.

“Her Majesty has a taste for imported flowers.” He was beaming at some oversized frilly red thing that she was certain was some imperial rarity. She laughed. “I should sneak you into the castle gardens sometime.”

“I wonder if I could get seeds from these,” he said, eyeing a few of the spent flowers.

“I doubt anyone would notice,” said Ski. Rune plucked a few pods and stuffed them into his pocket.

“How did I miss this?” he said, as they wandered toward the center of the small park where a strip of open lawn provided them with a view of all of the gardens.

“It is rather out of the way,” she said, settling on the ground. “One of the better things about it.” Rune took a seat beside her, still looking about in wonder. “I used to come here all the time. When I had something to read or to study. Often just to be alone to think.”

Rune nodded. “I had a spot like that when I was a kid too.”

“A garden?”

He laughed. “A cliff actually. A ledge just big enough for one.”

“You never talk much about your home,” she said.

He shrugged. “Not much to say. There was a kitchen, a mountain.”

“A girl?” she asked. He’d never said it, but she always suspected there was.

Rune smiled and shook his head. “Not what you think,” he said. His stare seemed to focus on something far more distant than the neatly arranged bed of daisies his eyes now rested on.

“You miss her though.”

“I did,” he said. “But I never belonged there, or with her.” Those deep blue eyes turned back on her and he was smiling. “I think I’m just now finding where I am meant to be.”

“I never gave much thought to where I belonged,” said Ski, plucking at the grass. “I always reasoned that if I did what was expected I would be doing what was right. Somehow what is expected of me now could not help but feel more terribly wrong.” She sighed. “Foolish, I know,” she said, laying back in the grass, “but the one dream I ever entertained for myself was that it might be nice to have such a place that was not just mine. To have someone sit beside me, without conversation or pretense, to simply…”

Rune was leaning over her, looking at her with that same giddy, empty headed expresion she’d seen Ilya and Dalton exchange more times than she cared to think about. She wondered if she looked just as foolish as her gaze flitted between deep blue eyes and the gently parted lips descending to meet her own.

“Well,” she said, sitting up abruptly. “I suppose we have lingered here long enough. Was there anything else you had planned?”

“Dinner?” he said, lips still poised where she’d left them, a look of confusion creeping over his features.

“Dinner,” she echoed with a slow nod.

His hand drifted to the back of his neck. “Wouldn’t be much of a date if I didn’t get you dinner, would it?”

“I suppose not. So where to now, then?”

“You remember that place we passed way back, when we first got to the fair?” The patio where the boys had been setting up tables. She nodded.

“Think they should be ready by now. Maybe there’ll be some music too.” He offered her a hand, but she pushed herself to her feet, pretending not to see it.

The return trip was carried out under an awkward silence. They passed back over the bridge and along the brightly decorated streets. Ski caught a grin from the girl who was busy suckering another young man to her knife throwing game.

The plaza was, indeed, ready. The scattered tables were lined with white cloths and set with pitchers of water and glasses. Ski and Rune found an empty one and seated themselves and Ski filled their glasses.

A heavyset woman in a grease stained apron arrived with their meal. “Such a lovely girl you’ve got there,” she said, laying a dish before Rune and another before Ski. “Would swear she was a princess or something. You hold on to this one.”

“She’s not… I mean, we’re not…” Rune stammered, color rising in his cheeks. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He slid some coins into the woman’s hand and she strolled back towards the open door.

Ski stabbed the pie in front of her with her fork and found herself rewarded with a burst of steam. She smiled at Rune through the vapors, sitting back to let the thing cool while he did the same.

The food was delicious; the crust flaky, the meat and vegetables tender. It was nearly as good as if Rune had made it. Ski wondered how he could stand to dine out when even the palace chefs’ work rarely could match his own, though she supposed he must appreciate a break from the stove now and then.

The meal passed with frequent nervous glances, but few words. Ski feared that if she opened her mouth she would say the wrong thing. She feared more that she might say the right thing and find herself the target of that foolish expression again, or a kiss. She wasn’t quite sure what she would do if Rune tried to kiss her again and there was nothing she wanted more than to find out, so she thought perhaps it would be best if he didn’t.

Ski tried to make it last, one slow bite after another, but her plate was soon clean and the plaza was growing dark. She stared into her drink, determined not to acknowledge the wistful way her companion watched the musicians take their place along the edge of the square. She closed her eyes as he dipped his head in an effort to face her.

“Something wrong?” Rune said.

She gave the plate before her, and the last crumbs that remained of its contents, an idle shove, first in one direction and then another. “We should be headed back before long,” she said. “We have that meeting in the morning, after all.”

“I suppose.” He gave the musicians another look and sighed. “Just one dance first?”

Ski made the mistake of looking up into those eyes and no form of refusal would find its way to her lips. She was sure she could trust herself for the space of one dance. “Just one,” she said, sliding her hand into his as the singing of strings put an end to conversation throughout the square.

As the night wore on, the crowd had thinned until only a handful of dancers remained in the square. With firm but gentle touch, Rune guided her in a dance her feet carried out without conscious command. As the music continued its slow, romantic pace, Ski gripped his hand in one of her own, and his shoulder in the other. He held an arm around her, keeping her so close she could feel the warmth of his breath against her cheek.

Another song wound to a halt, and their feet shuffled to an awkward standstill. The request of “just one more dance” had ceased to be spoken by either one of them quite some time ago, each knowing no argument would be forthcoming from the other.

Rune stared at her with eyes whose sharp intensity wavered and melted into pools deep and dark as the sea beneath the moon. She wondered desperately what it was he saw with them. He brought his lips slowly to hers and, nervously, she met them. Their touch was soft but firm, the breath that flowed between them into her mouth hot and wet. His hand tightened its hold on her back, pinning her to him, and she closed her eyes. She felt as if she were drinking him in, pulling the very breath from his mouth into her own, a sensation far more exhilarating than her drunken recollection of the previous night’s kiss.

He released her and she found it suddenly difficult to breathe, as her lungs vied for space against the frantic pounding of her heart. He returned her breathless stare for a moment before their lips met again. She wound her arms around his neck and pressed herself to him until she could feel the throb of his heart. His lips moved forcefully against her own, and a feeling of intoxication more powerful than all the liquor she’d downed the night before made her head spin.

They parted again to regain their breath. The music had resumed and the dancing with it, though the square around them could have been just an illusion for all Ski cared. All that mattered were those blue eyes that saw nothing but her and those lips that she longed to taste again.

Putting a hand to his chest, she drew to a halt as she found herself about to kiss him again. Rune paused, blinking in confusion, his lips poised to meet hers. She tore her eyes from his, forced them to stay on her own hand, determined to say what she knew she should. “It is late.” She could feel his pulse beneath her palm and her fingers suddenly refused to lay still. As she found them straying over the surface of his chest, she tore them away. “There is that meeting tomorrow,” she said, stepping backward out of his hold. “We should be headed back.”

He forced a smile and nodded, his arms falling reluctantly to his sides. Both cast the musicians one last, lingering glance before taking the other‘s hand and slowly walking out of the plaza.