Rathgarr loudly huffed, and then swiped for the rest of their clothes, and threw them over his shoulder. And then, before Geva had quite realized what was happening, he swept her up into his powerful arms, clasped her close into his warm chest, and stalked out of the room.
Geva only vaguely noticed Ulfarr and Killik on the way by — Ulfarr still glowering, Killik’s expression more considering — and Rathgarr didn’t show any sign of having seen them at all. His eyes frowning straight ahead, his forehead deeply furrowed, as he strode down the corridor, and finally back into their familiar bedroom, still lit by the light of the dim, flickering lamp.
He set Geva down on the bed with obvious care, pulling his cloak more tightly around her, before turning to the wardrobe, and yanking something out of it. His fur. The big silvery fur he’d so often worn travelling, large enough to wrap fully around her entire upper body over the cloak.
“Is there aught else I can do to help?” he demanded at her, from where he was now pacing restlessly beside the bed. Still with his hair streaked long and wet against his skin, pasted against where he was still fully bared, without even a stitch of clothing.
And despite his huge size, it almost seemed… vulnerable, somehow. Especially with that softness of his belly, and the slack heft dangling at his groin. And with the way his eyes on her were still tentative, uneasy, fearful.
“I’m really fine, Rathgarr,” Geva managed, and she could admit that shewasfeeling better, the warmth easing back into her limbs again, the heavy cloak and fur oddly comforting around her shoulders. “Thank you. Although I should have” — she reached a hand out, tentatively touching at the wet mess of her hair — “damn it.”
She was trying very hard not to think of how he’d sprayed in her hair, and how they had most certainly not washed it out properly — and she could almost feel him thinking the same, his expression still uneasy and alarmed. But then he squared his shoulders, and stood a little straighter, his eyes narrowing on hers.
“Then you shall allow me to address this,” he said flatly. “Tell me how best to tend it. You use this oil, ach?”
He’d again lunged for the wardrobe, and when he whirled around again, he was brandishing her familiar bottle of oil toward her. “You comb this in, ach? With your fingers?”
Geva warily nodded, and watched as he plucked out the stopper with his claws, and poured some oil into his palm. And then he rubbed his palms together, just the way she always did, before stepping closer, and settling down behind her on the bed.
“You shall speak if this pains you, ach?” he said, as she felt his fingers cautiously touching at her hair, stroking the oil in — and then almost instantly catching, stilling, on a tangle. “And ought I to — pull through this? Or cut it, with my claw?”
Geva winced, and shook her head. “No pulling, andespeciallyno cutting,” she said. “But if you can carefully work at it, maybe from the bottom…?”
It was perhaps asking more than he’d wanted to commit to — no doubt he’d thought it like his hair, needing only a quick comb through — and she was distantly, genuinely surprised at the feel of him actually… doing it. Carefully picking at the knot from the bottom, and then reaching for more oil from the nightstand.
It took a good while, but he did eventually accomplish it, his fingers now gently drawing through that section without any resistance, his claws lightly scraping against her scalp. The touch entirely unexpected, and feeling so suddenly lovely that Geva gasped, her entire body shuddering beneath the cloak.
She half-expected Rathgarr to laugh, to mock her, something — but instead, he just kept going. Finding another knot, and teasing it out, too. And this time, his claws lingered longer against her scalp as they combed through that section, sending another glorious, prickling shudder up her spine.
And then he did it again, and again, and again. Using more oil than Geva ever would have ever used herself, but she couldn’t seem to find the will to care. Especially once he’d finally detangled all of it, his hands now carding easily through the full masses of her hair, his claws dragging slow and beautiful down the length of her scalp.
“I ken this is yet not how you wear it,” he murmured, and she could feel one of his hands gingerly patting the side of it, where it had to be sticking nearly straight out, now that all the curls had been separated into a fluffy, voluminous mass. “What ought I do next?”
Geva found herself oddly swallowing, her shoulder giving a quick little shrug. “I would usually pull it back, or twist it, or put it in two braids,” she said, her voice hoarse. “Just something to keep it protected, especially while I sleep.”
If she expected Rathgarr to refuse, she was once again surprised, because he was already pulling her hair into two sections over her shoulders, and then drawing his claw down the centre of her scalp. “Ach, I can do braids,” he said. “I oft braided Kesst’s hair, when he was small.”
Oh. Geva couldn’t seem to find a reply, but she nodded, and shivered again at the feel of him shifting to one side, and using his claw to part that into smaller sections, as well. And then, starting at the top of her head, he began to slowly, carefully braid downwards, drawing in more sections as he went, keeping it close against her scalp. Just the way Geva would have done herself, the way her mother had always done, and she felt her breath catching at the feel of it, her body utterly still.
“Ach, no,” he muttered at one point, and then tugged out what felt like a large section, before resuming it again, moving slower than before. But Geva still didn’t care, didn’t move, because gods, she would sit here and let him do this all night, no matter how long it took.
“What should you think,” he ventured, once he’d reached the base of her skull, “of some beads here? Kesst always wished for these.”
Geva’s breath caught again — she hadn’t worn hair beads since her mother’s passing — but she managed another nod, and in return Rathgarr gave a satisfied-sounding huff. “Hold this,” he said, nudging the braid against her, and once she complied, she could feel him standing, and striding off. Over toward his trove-room, where she could hear him rummaging around, and then coming back again.
His braiding felt different this time, and she could feel him sliding the beads onto the strands as he went, perhaps using his claws. Until finally, he gave a grunt of satisfaction, and carefully draped his new braid over Geva’s shoulder.
She couldn’t help twitching a hand to touch it, craning her head to look. The sight choking her breath in her throat, because the braid was neatly, evenly done, and the beads studded within it were — beautiful. Perfectly rounded, shining gold beads, gleaming in the lamplight.
They were surely very valuable, and Geva couldn’t seem to look away, or stop blinking her wet eyes. “You — didn’t have to do that,” she said, her voice hoarse. “You don’t.”
There was an instant’s silence behind her, and then the feel of Rathgarr moving to the other side of her head, parting her hair the same way with his claws. “Ach, I wish to,” he said. “Wish to be a better… helpmate to you. Wish you to feel…valued.”
Right. Of course. This was a way of him trying to still keep her, to make sure she didn’t dump him over for Jule’s teaching post, and ruin all his carefully laid plans. Just like how he’d offered her more coin earlier, and apologized, and said all those lovely, empty things in the bath.How kind and generous you are. How hardworking. How fair-minded. Bewitching. The prettiest I have ever seen.
And perhaps he’d followed that too, because he sighed, the feel of it prickling against the nape of her neck. “I am sorry, for speaking to you as I did tonight,” he said, quieter. “You have done much good work for me, even when I have not deserved this. I do not wish to lose your help.”
Something sank in Geva’s chest — yes, yes, it was only about this, again — but she twitched a silent little nod. Because even if she could take on the teaching job, she still wanted to leave in a month, right? She still wanted to sail to Ezira, to her real home… right?
