Fallon is every inch a witch when he prepares Tai a remedy for his leg, bent over his task with flashing eyes.

He's less of a witch and more of a panicking young man when he anxiously checks in on Tai throughout the weeks following his injury.

"He's all right," Skander reassures him whenever he knocks on Tai's door. "Any irritation is just how he is, not from the wound." To which Fallon responds with a relieved sigh and a retreat back out the door.

Tai's room in the citadel is as ostentatious as Skander could have guessed. The four-poster bed is draped over with a velvet canopy and arrayed with soft, fine linens. A beautifully rendered hanging of an apple orchard covers a stretch of wall. The sharp, sweet smell of clove permeates the room, originating from a hanging incense burner. Brocade draperies frame wide windows that let in whatever weak December daylight the sky can stir up.

It'd be peaceful, if Tai ever let himself be at peace.

Instead he sits tense and tired at a large, sturdy table, head hanging low over a map stretched across its surface. His leg is nearly healed, thanks to the combined attentions of Dalmar and Fallon. They've warded off infection and the brunt of the pain, leaving him with only the persistent annoyance of itchiness a month later.

"I can see you scratching at it with your boot. It'll only make it worse," says Skander, nonchalantly flipping through the pages of a letter. He lounges on the seldom-touched settee in Tai's room, comfortable on the deep blue luxury of the cushions. He has no idea why Tai never sits on it.

"I didn't invite you here to act as a nurse." Tai says back, as if he isn't embarrassed to be caught in his lapse of self-control.

Skander looks at him. Tai's still scanning the map, not turning back at all. "Tell me to leave then."

"No."

Skander rolls his eyes at the papers in front of him, as if he doesn't adore Tai's contrariness.

Tai had been temporarily bedridden from the severity of the specter's poison, waiting for Fallon's witch-work to come to fruition. Even after the remedy's relief, Dalmar advised him to stay in bed for a few days to keep weight off his leg.

It was during that time that he began calling out for Lionel.

"Is your brother occupied?" He had asked him as soon as he shifted out of raven form.

Lionel, guileless and honest, said, "I can go see for myself, but I don't think so."

And Tai, rigidly upright in bed, said,  "If he likes, he may come and keep me company. I wouldn't mind."

Lionel was confused but still delivered the message. Upon hearing it for the first time, Skander had looked skeptical at the aloof tone but came to Tai's room anyway.

If he had expected a touching scene of domestic sweetness and caretaking, he was quickly disillusioned when Tai thrust a thick stack of envelopes and folded papers into his arms. "See if you can decipher that," he had said.

The papers had been the culmination of all Tai's correspondence with the Beledon city council. Flipping through them, Skander had noticed a sharp uptick in quantity about six months ago, around the time of Aedus Kade's appearance.

"I thought you were some sort of mastermind. Why do you need my help?" Skander said, knowing he should have spoken less harshly. Tai was injured but still willing to extend some sort of peace offering. Yet Skander wanted the whole of an apology. Say you need me too.

Even with his leg propped up on a cushion, confined to his bed by an insistent Dalmar, Tai had managed to look proud. "You can leave if you like. I'm not keeping you here."

Whatever condescension usually swam through his tone was mellowed. It might have been his clothes: his nightshirt and casual trousers were worlds apart from his typical attire of elaborately laced coats and tailored pieces. The simpler clothing lent such a soft, rumpled edge to his handsomeness that Skander found it almost overwhelming to look at him.

Tai didn't seem to have that same problem; his eyes never left Skander when he said, "You told me that you want me around, and that you admire how I mean what I say. So I'll say this and mean it: It might be of some use for me to discuss these things with another, and I want it to be you."

"Why me?" Skander asked, fingers tightened around the bundle of papers.

Tai had only said: "You aren't as unobservant as most of the others."

And that had been the extent of it.

Now, a month later, Skander's eyes rove over the most recent letter. After getting caught up on the old ones, Skander had taken it upon himself to be the first to read through anything from the council, while Tai took charge of the messages from the other outposts.

"What does it say?" Tai asks, still with his back turned.

Skander, whose eyelids had begun to drop low at the comfort of the cloven incense, straightens up again. "Don't bother reading it yourself later. It's mostly gossip about Aedus Kade's romances."

That has Tai turning around, so Skander continues, "He's being pursued by an aristocrat's daughter. Lovely, refined, all of the usual. Aedus Kade is flattered, but he has a childhood sweetheart he doesn't want to abandon: a girl on a neighboring farm from where he had grown up." Trying not to laugh, he says as gravely as he can, "It's as if his old life as a farm-boy is at war with his new life as a prophesied hero. What a dilemma. I say we stop bothering him about the end of the world now. He's clearly too busy."

"Oh yes, let the rest of us menial workers grapple with logistical issues while he agonizes over this," Tai says. He's spent the better part of an hour trying to track a relatively safe, specter-less trade route between a few of Beledon's larger towns outside the capital city. And while he does it, Aedus Kade is concerned about who he'll dance with at a ball. Of course.

What a ridiculous decision to be considering. "He should just pick one. Or both. Or neither, for all I care. How can anyone be that hopeless with romance, anyway?" says Tai. Skander hums in agreement.

The two of them remain oblivious to the irony and return to their tasks.

Outside the window, winter passes.

————————————————————

Jasper has to wait until January to hear his overseer's thoughts on his work.

He had completely straightened out the accounts from the large estate, his mind somewhere else as he spent long hours over the thick stack of papers. When it was completed, he was sure it was awful, that there were thousands of little mistakes littered throughout. He didn't really care and sent it in anyway.

Now, as his overseer showers him with praise over a job thoroughly well done, Jasper discovers the upsides to being considered a competent employee.

Then, as his overseer showers him with plans about other difficult tasks he's evidently now equipped to take over in the future, Jasper discovers the pitfalls of being considered a competent employee.

Yet he chooses to remain optimistic when he rings himself into the citadel on the morning of his next day off.

(Actually, the bell first takes him to a toymaker's shop in Beledon, where Jasper appears as the only occupant. The proprietor, a wizened man that looks as old as the city-stones, blinks at him with an open mouth. Jasper trips over his own tongue at the stare, finally says, "Don't worry, this is a dream," and quickly rings himself away again. Not his finest moment.)

When he tells them of his little victory, the citadel's residents celebrate by adding extra flair to the breakfast table. There are egg pastries filled with cheese and herbs, buttery scones with spiced sugar, creamed milk, and fruit preserves.

Jasper lords over the head of the table, happy with the grand meal, his new success, and the company of the others.

Tai isn't impressed by any of it and pulls Skander to the side as breakfast winds down. "Get your bow and meet me outside the armory," he says, keeping his voice low.

Skander has no idea what this is about, but it's hard to even think the word "no" in the moment, so he agrees to find him afterward.

Across the entrance to the armory is another door.

"I found it last night," says Tai, gesturing toward the turtle-shaped knocker. "Shall we?"

"Just us two?"

"If the others find out, they might burn it down again. I'm not willing to wait for another to appear of its own volition; I'd like to see this world for myself."

Skander considers it. The council hadn't been happy with Kit's door destruction. They want  as much information about the chimera and its world to be collected as possible, to be relayed to Aedus Kade in his preparation to confront it. However he was planning on bringing it in for a confrontation in the first place.

He looks at the door. The turtle seems harmless, unassuming. This is what, the fourth portal? He knows from the anecdotes of those who had been there before that the chimera's world is wild. Tai is coming with him, though, and Skander wouldn't trade the steadiness of that for anything.

"All right," he says. He knocks once before opening the door.

The citadel's been immersed in everything characteristic of winter lately: bitingly cold air and unpredictable precipitation. Wherever they are now presents a drastic change: spring incarnate.

They stand next to a river, and the wind is warm. The jewel green tone of the grass by the riverbank is dotted by the gentle whiteness of water lilies and the eye-catching purple of irises. Skander is face to face with the exfoliating bark of a birch tree, one of many that barricade the sides of the water. The turquoise movements of the river make him long, as he often does, to finally see the sea. 

Skander loosens the scarf wound around his neck. It's much too warm for it here. Since one of his hands is preoccupied with holding his bow, he uses his teeth to tug off the fingerless gloves on his hands.

After they're off, he turns to Tai and blinks in surprise when he sees that he's already being watched intently, Tai's eyes darker than usual as they follow his movements. They snap back to their normal hue at Skander's questioning look. Tai tilts his head to indicate the space behind them.

"The door is gone." Sure enough, the area behind them is all trees, no doors. He had already suspected as much, but it's still disconcerting to confirm.

A large splashing sound brings their attention back to the water, accompanied by a voice crying out, "Stand, in the name of the earl."

"We're already standing," Tai points out.

"Then sit, in the name of the earl."

"Absolutely not," says Tai, eyes concentrated on the water. The voice comes from the direction of the river, but he can't discern a speaker.

"How callous. Who let someone like you in? Is this a joke?"

"Probably," says Skander, thinking of the chimera and its fickle games.

"Joke or not, no one's allowed by the river without leave of the Earl of Incessant Spring." the voice says. The tone swishes, for lack of a better word: sometimes muffled, sometimes clear. Skander tries not to get lost in the oddly rhythmic sound and focuses on the words instead.

"Who's the earl?" he asks.

"Not sure. I think it's me this week."

Tai looks annoyed at the uncertainty, but Skander tries to press forward. "Well if it's you, may we have your leave? We're just looking around."

"No can do, gentlemen. Or, gentleman and other one. I might not be sure who's in charge, but I do know the rule for this week is that no one can walk through Incessant Spring unless they're looking for a good venue to fight to the death. Or they're celebrating their honeymoon. Or are interested in one of our widely-renowned dragon-watching tours, which I highly recommend. Wardens Weekly left a glowing review last month, calling it 'mildly fatal'. Are you interested?"

Tai's trying to think of a way he can convince this river-voice that they're looking to duel to the death when he feels an arm hook loosely around the back of his neck, warm fingers brushing against his skin. Skander's reached up to pull him close against his side.

"That's perfect," he tells the river. "Today is the first day of our honeymoon."

Tai cuts him a glance out of the corner of his eyes. He feels a flush spreading to his ears, and wills them not to turn red. From how close he is, Skander would definitely see.

"Oh, I had no idea! Felicitations." The voice rises into a bubbling sound. After a pause, it says: "I'd congratulate you by your names if I knew them." It hisses quieter, like water mixed with heat. "Might I trouble you for them, to celebrate properly?"

Skander knows what it's trying: Giada's warned them well. "Sorry, I don't remember mine," he says. By his side, he can hear Tai suppress a huff of laughter.

If water could click disapprovingly, the river-voice does. "And what about your beloved's?"

Skanded nudges him. "Answer the river, beloved."

Tai tries to think back to the last time he's made Skander laugh. Deciding it had been too long, he replies, "Gerald."

That gets him. Skander's arm tightens against the side of Tai's neck when he laughs, trying to face backward to hide the delight of his smile from the river's view.

Tai reaches a hand up to loosen Skander's grip. "Ease up, sweetheart." He tries to make his voice as overly saccharine as possible, but it just comes out laughably stiff.

Skander's still smiling wide from leftover mirth. "Sorry, dear," he gets out.

"How sweet," the voice interrupts them. "Not that wandering through spring indefinitely isn't romantic, but if you really want to freshen up your honeymoon, how about joining our game night? The prize is a feather."

A feather? It doesn't sound like much, but then again, they are talking to a river. Chances are that the feather isn't the ordinary kind they're thinking of.

Tai and Skander look at each other in consideration, the latter still holding Tai close.

"Any objections, darling?" Tai deadpans, then watches the dancing light in Skander's eyes as he tries not to laugh again at the endearment.

Skander's hand involuntarily comes up to brush against the silky blackness of Tai's hair while he thinks. Finally he says, "Might as well. It's hard to say no to talking water."

"That's what I like to hear," the voice says.

Arms burst forth from the river, impossibly long and every shade of restless, swirling blue as they grab hold of the two honeymooners and pull them below the surface.

Author's Note: This chapter— and specifically the use of "darling" as a term of endearment— is dedicated to Elena, who both uses the word often in her comments about these two, and was the earliest to spot the ship. I've known for a while that I wanted to jokingly put it in somewhere. Hope you liked it! 💙