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[staysail]

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[hassaran]

[ She lets her hand be taken, watching fingers closing around his palm. ]

No. But to consign her to that just because we were happy for a time would be selfish. Like our choice in the last dream was selfish.

[staysail]

That's not what I'm saying. The way I see it--

[His fingers laced through hers, his rings flashing in the light. Her hand is cool against his, a familiar press.]

I remember we came to a point, when we realized that she was going to be born. And we decided. That wasn't selfishness. That wasn't a mistake. That was hope. And after that--I remember talking with Silver. And she was there. And I told him that I wasn't frightened, because I wasn't. I remember that, not being frightened, because she was the future. She made the world worth living in. She made it worth saving, for her. We need that. All of us, that we, not just you and me. If we don't have that, we don't have anything.

[hassaran]

[ She sets down her wine and brings her other hand, still warm from the cup, to join their others, the pad of her thumb stroked into the web between his and forefinger. Her eyes are on their hands, too, and she shakes her head, just once back and forth. As she leans over them, the heavy garnet ring she wears on a chain around her neck swings to press against her sweater from the inside, and the arrowhead on its cord beside. ]

But we were failing her. We were going to fail her. [ She's quiet a moment, like she might say more, that sense of words built up and turned over he's come to recognize. But she swallows them back down and just squeezes his hand. ] We just have to win this war while we still can. And then we can give all this up for good, like we said. Otherwise-- [ she shakes her head again, quicker this time and for longer ] I can't.

[staysail]

I know.

[He'd waited through that quiet, holding so she had space to say whatever she wanted to say. They've known each other for so long. The balance that they'd once had, holding back secrets while still showing each other more than they showed anyone else--it's made for a peculiar sort of comfortable, a particular pattern to their relationship. He takes her hands and pulls them to him, turns them so he can kiss her knuckles--one hand, then the other.]

I know. I wouldn't ask you to. That's not what this is. [He presses another kiss to her hand, sealing that promise.] We'll win the war. We'll give it up. We are going to do that, Yseult. We'll have what we want. It will happen. I don't want you to be thinking of the future with fear. She might not be a prediction, a sure thing, but she's our prophecy. You and I will have something after all of this is done. And it will be better for the work that's done here.

[hassaran]

[ When Yseult nods it's near enough for her hair to brush his jaw, before she lifts her head to press a kiss to his cheek. The hand she slips free of his hold is only to set on his opposite cheek, thumb swiped tenderly across the bone. She leaves it there for another moment, before drawing away enough to twist and collect her wine again.

And his, too, which she offers back to Darras as she rearranges herself comfortably at his side again. There's an air of closing a file, opening another. ]

So you were confiding in Silver?

[staysail]

[Kissed, and kissed well, Darras takes back his wine. Hot wine and a hot wife, what more can a man ask for?]

You don't want to know how often and how keenly I talk of you outside of dreaming, never mind in dreams where I've become close mates and confidants with someone. You'll push me out that window. After you kiss me agian.

[hassaran]

[ She obliges him with another kiss, this one a closed-lip press so she can hum a noise of distaste as she does it. Not at the kiss itself, of course. Everything else. ]

I might just. What have you been telling them about me, precisely?

[staysail]

[He settles his arm around her after that second kiss, keeping her close. The feeling of it lingers, a gentle reminder.]

Of course I said you've got freckles on the backs of your knees.

[hassaran]

I suppose you told them about the constellation on my ankle as well [ she says in a dark tone. A dire revelation indeed. ]

[staysail]

I practically wrote a poem about the constellation on your ankle.

[Very serious. He casts his eyes up toward the ceiling to try to disguise his smile.]

And I talked about how great of a mother you were. Will be.

[hassaran]

[ This time the face she pulls is real. ]

I'd rather a dozen poems about freckles than that.

[staysail]

[He laughs.]

Really. Even if I'm more complimentary about it? And that's hard to imagine, I know, given how I speak of your freckles.

[hassaran]

Really. [ She flicks a finger against his shoulder at the laugh. ] I'd prefer they didn't know.

[staysail]

Well, it was a dream. Likely all forgotten.

[He grabs for her hand so she can't flick his shoulder again. And, you know, just because he wants to hold her hand.]

I didn't speak of you that much. Even then, I remember knowing that you didn't want yourself to be too known. I love knowing you, so I know that about you.

[hassaran]

[ She tugs on his hand like she might try to pull away, but really just pulls his arm near, trapping it across her body beneath her other arm. ]

You do. Only you get to know these things. [ Or so she'd prefer, anyway. ] Though they may not forget the baby.

[staysail]

They might. [Hope, for two seconds, before he corrects himself:] Likely they won't. But it was only a dream, they'll tell themselves. Or you could give them something to distract them.

[hassaran]

[ That gets him a sidelong look. ] Such as?

[staysail]

[He shrugs, without looking at her, while still looking at her out of the corner of his eye. Very casual and matter-of-fact, this is a serious suggestion--]

Can't you do a handstand and juggle with your feet?

[hassaran]

Through all our meetings? [ Like that's actually a thing she can do. (It's not.)]

[staysail]

It would be distracting.

[hassaran]

For me especially.

[staysail]

Now, that I don't believe. I can barely manage to distract you.

[hassaran]

You underestimate yourself.

[staysail]

Really.

[He shifts, abruptly--straightens his posture, looks down at her.]

I propose a test.

[hassaran]

[ She shifts to match, twisting back toward the couch arm to look up at him. ]

Go on.