QUIET LITTLE CORNER
Her eyes lifted again when he spoke of steak, and the brightness in her expression stirred an answering warmth in him that he no longer tried to suppress. When she declared that medium rare was the only proper way to enjoy one, he gave a slow nod of agreement, the corners of his mouth rising with clear amusement. The pride in her voice when she spoke of her own seasoning blend drew him closer without effort, his posture leaning in as though the promise of that future meal had become a matter of quiet importance.
When she suggested she needed a test subject, his grin deepened.
“I would happily volunteer for such an honorable duty...” he said, voice warm with playful seriousness.
“But I have conditions.”
His brow lifted slightly.
“I possess a dangerous sweet tooth. I will only agree to serve as your test subject if confections accompany the arrangement.” The negotiation rested between them with the comfortable rhythm of shared humor.
Their conversation shifted gently as the subject of holodramas returned, and he studied her face while she spoke. There was a fleeting shadow in her expression when she admitted she disliked silence while sleeping, especially when she was alone. The words stirred a thought in him so immediate that he caught himself biting lightly against his lower lip to contain it. The instinct to speak it was strong, but restraint held him steady.
Instead he inclined his head once, voice softening.
“I hope your dreams become as sweet as you are.” he said quietly,
“With or without holodramas playing in the background.”
Then he spoke of beskar forging, and the shift in her demeanor was immediate. Curiosity lit her features openly. He felt it in the way her attention sharpened, in the brightness that returned to her eyes. He held her gaze without hesitation, allowing the moment to stretch.
Forward had been the word guiding him all evening, and it had carried him through every step of this strange and wonderful encounter.
He had told her she was the only red that looked good on him. He half expected a laugh, perhaps even something thrown his way for the boldness of it...Instead she gave him her ring size.
Aegon could not stop the quiet laugh that escaped him, low and genuine. The air between them seemed to shift as she continued speaking, her words flowing faster now as she spoke about forging and childhood dreams of making her own blade. It felt as though she was attempting to steady the ground beneath them, to cool the warmth that had gathered.
Unfortunately for that effort, the word
Forward had taken root deep inside him.
All he could see was the firelight dancing in her eyes. The red of her hair catching the glow of the flames. The sound of her voice settling into his thoughts like something familiar. He nodded slowly when she asked if he could teach her.
“I would be happy to teach you what I know...” he said, his tone carrying quiet certainty.
“However, such training does not come free. Just as with your cooking arrangement, I require a small portion of dessert before any hammer strikes metal.”
Forward.
The word echoed in his mind with unmistakable clarity. And in that moment he made a decision that ignored caution
entirely.
The festival disappeared from his awareness. The laughter, the fire, the distant music all faded into silence as his focus narrowed to the woman before him. He reached out slowly with his dominant hand, movement careful and deliberate as his fingers gently guided her chin upward.
Then he leaned forward and kissed her.
His lips brushed against hers with softness that stood in quiet contrast to the strength in his hands. He lingered only for a breath, allowing the moment to exist without force or urgency.
Then he leaned back again. A smirk settled across his features, confident yet warm.
“You may consider that a down payment.” he said calmly. His gaze held hers without wavering.
“But I will require more of the same before your sword takes shape.”
