Valour and Blood || 1.16

Her muscles were already sore, near spasming from her tensed position. She scarcely dared move as the soldier returned from the bedroom, wearing a loose grey shirt and dark trousers tucked into worn boots. He washed up in the basin and patted his hands dry with the rag that had been lying over the leftover scone. He spotted it underneath, and polished it off in a single bite. Cheerily, he headed for the table while Erica was left to stare at the devastated plate of crumbs.

She shivered. Just one bite.

The thought continued to haunt her as dinner commenced, and she was forced to lend an ear to the giants' meal. Their conversation was innocent enough, but all she could hear was incessant chewing. 

"You happen to find any honey mead at the market?" the soldier asked, barely swallowing his bite before speaking. 

"Oh, I left it in the kitchen." The woman brushed off her skirt and made to stand. Her husband put a hand on her arm. 

"I'll get it." He rose from his seat, kissing his wife’s cheek as he passed. 

Erica squeezed her eyes shut as the counter began to shake with his approach. Her heart skipped a beat as he began to rummage between pots and bottles near the fireplace. To her relief, he found what he was looking for, uncorking the bottle with ease. He dropped the cork on the counter. Still holding her breath in hiding, Erica didn't see it coming until it had knocked into her leg. Involuntarily, she gasped. 

The giant paused where he stood, turning back to the counter with a frown. Blue eyes turned wary as he slowly scanned the open area. 

"Darling," his wife called. 

"I'm fine," he replied. "Be right there."

Erica gritted her teeth, willing him to turn away from the counter. But his hard gaze was still sweeping the long wooden surface. She almost gasped a second time when he placed the bottle down on the wood with a rattling thump and leaned forward. 

Willing herself not to make a sound, Erica eased herself behind the next jar, this one blissfully opaque, and looked up at the giant stood above her. He was so big that his hips stood higher than the counter’s forty foot edge. A drop that would kill Erica was nothing to him. She turned her attention to the right briefly as she slid behind the next jar. If she could crawl all the way down the narrow alley between the kitchenware and the wall, she could wait at the edge and be down the wall before any-

Erica was distracted. A prickly sensation of the hairs on the back of her neck. Almost like...

“Darling?” came the voice of the wife again.

She was being watched.

Her head snapped up and she almost stumbled. Those great blue eyes overhead, now so familiar, were fixed right on her. A scream had barely left her throat before the jars were swept aside with a tremendous clatter and she was swiftly clasped in a fist, her lungs fighting for air.

“What the hell?” 

She felt the deep voice right in her bones. She was sure his tightened fingers could feel her terrified heart beating right through her chest. Her eyes beseeched him, as pleading as his were angry.

A noise of motion from the other room made her captor jump. He turned, and seeing his wife in the archway, drew his fist close to his chest to hide it.

“Dearest? What was that noise? I thought I heard-”

“A rat,” the giant choked out, making Erica’s ears ring. “But it's gone now. Go back to the table.”

She was reluctant to do so, eager to have him back at her side. "Did you find the mead? I left it right by the edge." 

"Ah, yes. Got it. Just going to, uh… dispose of the rubbish outside." 

"Can't it wait until after supper? I only just got you back."

He was already moving for the back door, keeping Erica crammed against his middle to hide her from sight. He shot his wife the most convincing smile he could manage as he passed. "I won't be a minute. Save me an extra helping."

Bursting out into the moonlit garden, he shut the door swiftly behind him and moved out of view of the window. Erica coughed, the breath effectively knocked out of her as he brought her up to eye level. "I don't think I have to tell you that this is the last place you should be," he hissed. There was a pause as he studied his catch, turning her round to face the light filtering from the house. Though her hair had grown out, the same green eyes and round face were illuminated under the rim of a makeshift helmet. Recognition hit him, making him stiffen bodily. He jerked her closer, his hot breath making her wince. 

"You… What the hell are you doing in my house?" 

Erica strained pointedly for breath, her one free hand flailing to push her helmet down over her face. “J-just calm… calm down, okay? I meant no harm, I swear. I’m just a… a lowly hunter. Yes. I was lost in the woods and-”

“I know who you are.”

“No, please, I…”

She cowered with clenched fists, screwing up her face as his other hand rose towards her with startling speed. Cool air rushed to meet her head as the giant plucked her ivory helmet away with a finger and thumb and let it drop in the grass. “You're her. I heard Phillip affected your release some time ago,” he rumbled, eyebrows furrowed. His fingers relaxed around her then tightened again. Erica’s eyes flew open, whites vivid in her filthy face. “But I never thought I'd see you around here again.”

Erica wheezed, pushing against him for more air. “I promise you, I had no idea that was your house. I've been trying to get back over the border but things got… tough. I just wanted some food! I wasn't going to hurt them, I swear.” The crossbow pushing against her back from the weight of his hand suddenly felt a lot heavier.

Erica immediately regretted the mention of his family when he gripped her tighter. His eyes narrowed to slits. "You were quick to the trigger before. What makes this any different?"

"They're innocent," Erica choked out. "They're not a threat. I just wanted food, believe me!"

His nostrils flared, but his grip loosened. Erica slumped down deeper into the prison of his hand, the oppressive heat surrounding her. He kept her close, glancing over his shoulder at the house. No movement stirred at the door yet. "How did you make it this far?" He was still reeling as he pushed his free hand through his golden hair. "Prennen is a day’s journey on foot from the castle, even for a giant."

“I took a few shortcuts,” she stammered. “The river, for one.” She sucked at the air gratefully but she still felt horribly vulnerable. She was all too aware of her missing breastplate. The metal wouldn't necessarily have been all that protective against the strength of a giant, but she felt as helpless as a beetle on its back without its extra reinforcement. She could only pray her death would be swift.

“That's not what I meant,” he grunted. “You're a prime target. How have you remained undetected for so long?”

“Oh, I had plenty of close shaves,” she said shakily. “But I know how to take care of myself. You giants would be useless hunters without your sense of smell. I covered myself up and laid low.” She gestured to her dirty face before dropping her arms resignedly to her sides.

"You did yourself half right," the giant said, after a moment of consideration. "But I'm afraid the river took you in the wrong direction. Prennen is nearer the Snow-Tops than the border."

Erica's face fell. The last shreds of hope that kept her eyes so ablaze went quiet. Her quest for weeks had been for nothing. The idea of having to re-trace so much ground made her slip a little deeper into his fist, defeated. When her struggling stopped, some of the anger drained out of his expression. Deeming it safe, he opened his hand and watched her pick herself up in his palm. The dark sky flashed, revealing a brewing storm. Droplets splashed down, flooding the lines in his hand.

The giant slumped against the ivy-covered wall, gazing up at the ominous heavens. "I must be out of my mind," he groaned, dragging a hand down his face. He peeked down at Erica again. She was just sitting there, looking down at her own boots. Shaking. Heaving a deep sigh, he held out another open palm adjacent to the first. "Hand over your weapons." 

Erica lifted her head, jerking away from the new hand. The giant made an impatient noise. "Your weapons. Surrender all of them, and you can stay until the rain passes."

She eyed him for another long moment, mouth open in shock. “Y-you mean, you’re not going to…?”

His eyebrow arched and she lost faith in the rest of that sentence. With trembling hands, she eased the straps of her crossbow holster off her back and held it out to him. It dropped with a quiet clink of metal into his other hand, which rose and fell some as he weighed the hefty weapon. Erica was dismayed by how diminutive it looked, sitting there in the crease of his palm. “Where did you get this?” A note of curiosity entered his deep voice. 

“King Phillip,” Erica murmured. “He said he wanted to give me a fighting chance.”

The giant looked vaguely sceptical, but didn’t argue. He just closed his fingers around it. “And what else did he give you?”

Erica fingered the thin belt at her waist where the sheath hung, letting him see that it was empty. “I had a dagger. A few other things.” She squared her jaw. “They’re all gone now.”

He hummed. Erica jerked as he bent his fingers so he could feel along her back for any hidden sheaths. Satisfied, the giant pocketed the crossbow and ignored the strange look Erica sent his way. "You so much as speak a foul word in front of my boy, I'll dump you straight out. And the crossbow stays with me. Understood?"

He spoke like a commanding officer. Something deep in Erica that she had almost forgotten about twitched, recalling her days of replying with a brisk yessir. Looking back, she wouldn't have so much as spat in Rionny's shadow were he to issue her a command now. 

"Yes," Erica nodded. He was still staring at her. She lifted her head, braving the piercing look of those immense blue eyes. "I swear, I wouldn't dare to try anything here… sir." 

The rain began to pick up pace, breaking him from his daze.  He glanced at the sky, as if questioning a higher power he couldn't see. "You’d better not," he muttered, moving for the door. 

His wife was sitting at attention as he entered the dining space. "Don't you dare try to tell me we had more rats in the garden."

He shook his head, returning to his seat beside her at the head of the table. Without any effort to conceal her this time, he lowered his palm flat up on the table. Erica hastily shuffled off of the living platform, finding herself dwarfed by their supper. "We have a temporary houseguest," he announced softly. 

The giantess gasped, clapping her hands over her mouth. Erica had never gotten a look at how equally blue the woman's eyes were, though far more wary than her husband's. 

"It's okay, Sari." He set a hand on her leg. "She's no longer due for punishment. The king relieved her sentence some time ago."

"But she's still…" Sari trailed off, looking close to panic. 

“Please - trust your husband,” Erica piped up from the tabletop. She gave the giantess a smile that she hoped was friendly, reassuring even. The woman still looked alarmed, but Erica couldn’t blame her. She looked like she’d just emerged from the ground itself. “I have no intention of hurting you. Or your wee son.” Her eyes flitted momentarily to the child seated on a pile of cushions on the nearest chair, who was currently staring transfixed at the dishevelled woman stood among the crockery. Her throat felt dry, and there was a tremble in her limbs that had yet to cease. She ached to sit down, but was not about to let her guard down. She was stood on a dinner table, for Pete’s sake. “I hope you can forgive me for intruding. I was desperate."

Sari jerked her head at her husband. "You told me about this one. You said-"

"She's weaponless, you can be at ease, love." He leveled a calm gaze at Sari, the sort of confidence and strength that promise protection. His wife continued to look as distrustful as if she were the one being thrust into an oversized world. 

"I suppose you're hungry," she mumbled after a time. She reached around Erica to ladle a bit of carrot and potato onto a cloth napkin. She dragged the entire thing over, laying it at Erica's feet. She sat back in her seat, watching the tiny woman's reaction as if expecting her to burst into flames spontaneously. The soldier kept his hand on her leg, and watched quietly as he picked up his own fork. 

Erica felt her cheeks warm up. She’d already eaten not an hour earlier - but she wasn’t about to bring that up; not to mention, the insistent glare the male was leveling her with was making refusal risky. Instead, she offered up another small smile and crouched with cautious speed to gather the boiled carrot into her hands. It was still warm, and very difficult to hold, but she gnawed off a small bite and chewed. “You’re, um… you’re an amazing cook, missus…?” she stammered out, her hand over her mouth as she continued to chew. 

The giantess shared another consulting glance with her husband before answering. "S-Sari," she piped up belatedly.  "I'm glad you like it."

The baby beside her squealed rather abruptly, babbling nonsense. It started as a low whine but soon grew to a deafening sound that had Erica dropping the carrot to clap her hands over her ears, staggering backward. For such a small giant, he made more noise than both his parents combined. In a flurry of movement, the toddler lurched forward to make a grab for her, messy hands outstretched. His father slammed a hand down in his path, putting Erica out of his reach. 

"Cam, no." 

Sari dropped her fork and knife to sweep the baby into her lap, away from further temptation. "Shh, Cam, easy… I daresay you're the first human he's ever laid eyes on," she explained rather sheepishly. "I hope he didn't frighten you."

Erica swallowed, not moving as the giant’s hand drew away once more. “You know us humans have sensitive ears. Your bairn’s been blessed with a canny set of lungs.” The boy was still staring at her with the same big blue eyes as his parents. Gaining a little more confidence now that no one was making a grab for her, Erica stepped shakily forward between half-empty plates, and raised her hand in a tentative wave at the burbling infant. His indignant pout vanished immediately in favour of a toothy smile. “How old is the little man?” she asked, craning her neck to regard Sari.

"Not quite two years." She stole a glance at the ecstatic smile on his face. Sari shared a bewildered look with her husband - he saw it too. "He quite likes you, doesn't he?"

"Careful," the soldier warned, arching an eyebrow at Erica when she spun around. "He tends to chew on his favourite things."

Erica winced and backed off a couple of steps. “I can keep my distance. It's not like I'll be here for very long.”

As if on cue, the cosy dining room lit up as lightning flashed outside. A rumble followed immediately after. The rain sounded as though it were picking up the pace. The soldier stared out the window, feeling the weight of his decision more with every wave of rain that beat against the thatched roof. He moved Erica’s napkin closer to her, then tucked back into his own meal. Erica felt trapped within seconds as the sounds of eating were amplified, surrounding her. Even the child's portion was easily larger than a tent. She had to resist the urge to curl up in a ball on the tabletop to block out the din. Not in front of the Tin Soldier here.

"So…" Sari smiled, as if trying to convince herself that this was an ordinary houseguest. "Do you have produce like this, south of the border? I've only heard stories about the long summer. It must be nice."

Erica dropped onto her bottom, breaking a fluffy chunk off the roast potato. “Yes. Certainly in my former kingdom, and the warmer months meant our crops could flourish. Though they never grew as large as this,” she said, inclining her head at a mound of potato on Aaron’s plate that was the size of a horse. Her eyes glazed some as she remembered the details of her exile. She'd never be welcomed back to Greendale, not in a month of Sundays. Her only hope of getting back to humanity was to find a new kingdom. And if the male giant had been telling the truth, any part of the border was miles deep into the forest. Suddenly, sitting cross-legged on a table as big as a field, Erica felt smaller and more helpless than ever.

The dishes were rinsed and stacked, the tablecloth and napkins left to soak in a basin of soapy water. The enormous house was quiet save for the constant patter of rain on the roof, and Sari laying down with Cam in a room Erica couldn't see. Couldn't see much of anything beyond the blond giant, who seemed annoyingly glued to her side. 

"See?" Erica mumbled, folding her arms across her chest. "I'm perfectly capable of a calm conversation. No bloodshed."

The giant just grunted. 

Erica rocked on her heels on the countertop, but didn't dare wander too far. He hadn't explicitly told her not to, but the last thing she wanted to do was give him an excuse to grab her again. She watched idly as he rolled his sleeves up his elbows, revealing a pair of toned forearms. He dipped a cloth into the sink, scrubbing a chunk of soap into the rough fabric. When a lather had been worked up, he wrung it out and dropped it at her feet. "Here," he rumbled. 

Erica flinched to wipe away the splattered droplets from her face, and craned her neck to gauge his expression. Unreadable, as usual. "What do you want me to do with this?" Erica eyed the expanse of the counter. Was she to earn her keep with chores like she had done on occasion for the king? Her tired bones trembled at the thought. 

The giant nudged the cloth closer to her, impatient. "Wash yourself up. You're filthy."

Erica gnawed the inside of her cheek, giving him an uneasy look. “I'm decked out like this for a reason,” she argued. “If I go back out there without protection I'll be sniffed out a mile off-”

“Your scent is already starting to shine through. But you reek of mutt,” he interrupted, wrinkling his nose. “I can't imagine what you've been rolling in but I can assure you you'll be noticed in a heartbeat - whether or not anyone smells your blood. You're disgusting.”

He nudged the rag pointedly against her and frowned. Erica couldn't find the courage to decline again. “Thanks,” she griped, snatching up a corner of it and rubbing the mud away from her face. And though she didn't speak up to admit it, the clean soap and water felt like a miracle on her skin. All too soon, she was stripping off her shoulder plates and tunic right there on the counter, scrubbing away the accumulated sweat and filth from her thin frame.

Without a word, the sentry began to collect her armour from the pile she'd created. Erica opened her mouth to protest, but found herself stunned into silence instead. The giant was not confiscating her protection, merely running it under a trickle of water and rubbing at the caked dirt with a finger and thumb. He kept his eyes loyally on the task, providing a strange attention to detail. Erica was baffled. Still watching in her peripherals, she resumed the task of scrubbing herself. Her heart raced again a moment later when the giant suddenly broke the quiet. 

"What's your name, human?"

Her lips parted in surprise at this formality. But she simply cleared her throat, pulling the rag up to wipe her bare legs. “I forget - we were never properly introduced,” she smirked tentatively. “Lady Erica Sage. Or I suppose, just Erica now.” She swivelled to watch him more openly. “What's your name then, giant?”

He quirked a eyebrow down at her, but there was something less severe about it this time. "Sir Aaron Stryke. First Order of the king's guard." His lips twitched. "You're already familiar with my expertise."

Erica paled a little, finding herself for a moment unable to look him straight on. It was all too easy to recall him fully uniformed in his menacing dragonhide armour, blocking out the sun as he reached for her. Aaron turned away as well, continuing in his task of cleaning her armour. "This metal is so brittle," he muttered. "You might as well bind yourself with tree bark for all the good this will do you."

Erica scowled, then winced as she cleaned an especially sensitive spot on her side. “We lost our good metalworker to giants a few months back,” she replied coldly. “Along with half his stock. That's the best we've had for a while now.”

Aaron pursed his lips, holding a now gleaming forearm piece up to the firelight. “You were wearing a breastplate when I came to collect you,” he remarked. “With a pig on it. What became of it?”

Erica gave a start. She hadn't expected him to remember. “That was a wild boar,” she corrected him snippily. “I… had a run in with one of your lovely friends. From a party of soldiers camping at the Pyre.”

He turned sharply, genuine surprise flashing over his face. Erica gripped the rag a little tighter when he stared at the skin where her tunic had ridden up. Even elevated on the counter, Aaron looked so high overhead. "It's their job to enforce the treaty if humans trespass," he replied, giving a shrug. He set down the last of her armour and turned off the sink. "The Fates seem to favour you, Miss Sage."

“Was it just fortune’s favour, then, that you didn't kill me today?” she demanded before she could stop herself. She wrapped the rag tight about her shoulders and stood. “You could have. Easily.”

Aaron stood right before her now. He pushed his drooping sleeves up higher, slow to meet her upturned gaze. "I know you weren't alone in Fallon's murder. I see no reason to have you suffer a sentence that should be shared with another."

Erica's lips parted, realisation washing over her. Though a part of her wanted to be bitter that he hadn't voiced this opinion while she was being sentenced, her relief was greater. That stern look on his face was not murderous. 

"Besides," he sighed. "The king deemed it proper to release you. I trust his judgement."

“That's some of the best news I've heard since I landed in this godforsaken country.” Erica’s throat suddenly felt very tight, like she might be about to burst into tears. Quelling this ridiculous urge, she stepped a little closer to the edge of the counter, to Aaron. It was almost funny to find that this stern, stoic creature had such an ordinary name.

“I suppose this means I owe you a great debt,” she admitted. “Thank you for treating me with kindness. You and your wife.” She clutched the rag to her collarbone as she dipped her head, keeping her bare skin from the shoulders down covered.

Aaron's face changed, looking a bit taken aback by the meek show of thankfulness. Truth be told, he looked rather uncomfortable. "You owe me no debt." He folded his arms over his chest, doing his best to look smug. "What favour could I possibly demand from the likes of you, anyway?"

“My time in the palace taught me that giants can be quite ingenious when it comes to making demands.” But still, despite the nettling, she smiled back. 

“I’m sure,” Aaron murmured, now plucking up her linen garments from where they lay dripping by the sink. Carefully, he set them down on the edge of a chair before the fire. “These should be dry by morning. I’m sorry I don’t have spares for you, but you can imagine I wouldn’t usually have need for such things in my house.”

“You shouldn’t bother,” Erica said, touched nonetheless. “If you don’t think I can help you in return. I thought your kind were loathe to tend to humans.”

He smirked. "You don't seem the sort of woman that needs much tending to." 

Erica felt something warm bloom in her cheeks. That had to be the closest thing to a compliment she'd ever heard from a giant, save for Brandt’s kind words. Still, it didn't keep her from feeling terribly small standing under him, nearly bare beneath the oversized rag. 

Aaron tore his gaze from her, glancing around the kitchen. "You'll be needing somewhere dry tonight…" After a moment, he pulled a towel from a shelf, and held it out for her to climb into. He averted his gaze as she slipped from one cloth into the next, bundling thick handfuls of fabric around her chilled skin. Erica felt a strange exhaustion wash over her as Aaron lifted the bundle between his hands and left the kitchen. The last time she had been at the mercy of these quaking strides, she had been certain he was carrying her towards death. This time, she felt almost… safe. 

After debating under his breath for a bit, Aaron settled on his knees just inside a new room. In the dark, she could make out two bookshelves crowding the small space, a table laid with parchment and inks, and a weighty chest in the shadows. Aaron set her underneath a table by the door, tucking the towel up against the centre leg. "You'll be in no danger of being trod upon here," he explained, remained hunkered down to address her. "I'll leave your things here tomorrow morning, if you're not up before the sun."

Erica made a quiet noise, pulling her aching joints in close as she settled in the soft fabric. Though the ground was hard and cold, she could barely feel it. The weeks of sleeping on dirt had given her a new backbone. This scrunched up scrap was as good to her as a downy mattress and quilt. Keeping her eyes on his as she snuggled beneath the layers of cloth, Erica nodded, shoulders drooping with sudden fatigue. “Thank you,” she said, almost going unheard as a rumble of thunder broke the gentle quiet.

“You don’t need to keep saying that.” Aaron sounded disgruntled, but he regarded her softly for another moment before rising to his feet. Erica’s little fists clenched in the covers as he strode past her, and she didn’t lie down properly until the shaking of his footsteps had ceased.

Her head fell back with a sigh, a smile on her lips. This was the comfiest bed she’d had in a long time - even surpassing the soft warmth of Franciska’s furry belly. The thought of her companion saddened her, abandoned out there on the other side of the wall. She prayed the canine wouldn’t come into danger, looking for her. 

The weight of her exhaustion soon became too much to hold out against. Lulled by the peaceful darkness and the trickling of the rain, Erica quickly fell into unconsciousness.