The seven flowers of fate

Chapter 2: In His Hands

Inside the cottage, the soft glow of enchanted lanterns illuminated the familiar space-shelves lined with vials, herbs hanging from the rafters, and the faint scent of magic lingering in the air. I led him to the chair by the hearth, where he sank down with a sigh of relief, his armor creaking as he moved.

"You're a mess," I said softly, though there was no real scolding in my voice. It was a familiar routine-him coming back from battle, me patching him up.

He grinned up at me, that familiar spark of mischief in his eyes despite the fatigue. "You should see the other guy."

I shook my head, but couldn't help the small smile that tugged at my lips. That's Kellan always brushing off his injuries like they were nothing.

But they weren't nothing. Not to me

I gathered the healing salves and herbs from the shelves, my hands moving automatically through the familiar motions of preparing a poultice

His charm was as reckless as he was in battle. I mumbled "One of these days, you're going to come back without a scratch, and I won't know what to do with you."

"Now where's the fun in that?" His voice dropped to a teasing murmur as his eyes followed my every movement. "I'd hate to deprive you of an excuse to fuss over me."

I rolled my eyes, though warmth spread through my chest. "Sit still, or I'll let you fend for yourself next time."

His chuckle was soft, but he did as I asked, sitting quietly as I knelt beside him. My fingers worked carefully to undo the straps of his armor, revealing the marks of his latest battle. Deep gashes marred his skin, some still fresh, others already healing from his natural strength. But even he couldn't heal completely without help.

my gaze fell on the scar running across his chest-a jagged line that had long since healed but would always be a reminder of the night I had first found him.

"Hold still," I murmured, applying the herbal salve to the worst of the wounds. He flinched slightly but said nothing, his eyes fixed on me with that ever-present glint of mischief.

"Careful," he said, his voice soft but playful. "You'll ruin my rugged look."

I snorted, shaking my head. "I'm afraid you're stuck with that look, no matter what I do."

"Good," he teased, leaning back in the chair with a smirk. "I'd hate to be too pretty."

My fingers paused for a moment as I looked up at him, catching the twinkle in his eyes. He was always like this-turning every serious moment into something light, playful, as if to remind me that we were still here, still together, no matter the dangers that lurked just beyond our sanctuary.

"You're impossible," I said with a smile, but my hands moved gently over his skin, healing as I worked.

"And yet, you love me for it."

Flashback: The Night She Found Him

The storm had turned the world into a torrent of rain and darkness. Sheets of water poured from the sky, making it nearly impossible to see the path ahead. My cloak clung to me, soaked through, and my feet sank into the muddy ground with every step. I had just finished tending to the wounded from the village after a skirmish when I spotted a figure lying crumpled at the side of the road.

At first, I thought he was dead.

Mud and blood covered his skin, mixing with the rain as it streaked down his body. His chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths, a fragile sign of life clinging to him. My heart pounded as I knelt beside him, the rain falling in relentless waves, plastering his dark hair to his face. His body was large and muscular, making it difficult to move him, so I carefully peeled back the tattered remains of his armor to assess the damage.