A Kind of Magic

Eighty-One

He sat with her still squashed against his ribs, settled in his arms comfortably on his bed and rocked her gently, murmuring sweet nonsense into her ear while her other ear listened to his strong heartbeat repeating to her in its special morse code that he was really alive until she started to believe it all-- that he was back and would never leave again, that Freddie was safe and his grandfather the king arrived in person to take him back home, that their friends were well and no blood had been spilt in the dragons' camp apart from... Lagon's and the Highlander's who killed him... and yes, Lagon was dead, but it was destiny and couldn't have been avoided...

Fiona finally thawed enough in Peregrine's warm, loving embrace, both fear and coldness leaving her through a series of shivers, to be able to talk.

"You are injured," she said, her voice gravelly after the long disuse as she traced her shaking fingers up his arm where a long, still unhealed cut stretched from elbow to shoulder. Other, smaller cuts marred his face, and, on his back, the shredded fabric of his black cloak revealed more injuries to her exploring fingers. She knew well by now that his kind of magic would heal him soon without her interference just like it would restore his clothes to perfection, but she needed to look after him, to allow some of the huge amount of love she felt for him to flow through her fingers touching his wounds, erasing his pain, helping him heal even faster. 

"Please, let me look at your wounds," she begged as she freed herself from his embrace and walked to the bag in which she held her first aid kit, when she spotted it by the door of the bedroom.

He stripped obediently while she removed her heavy coat and prepared her things before she turned back to him, the sight of his injured back making her gasp. His previous injuries, those she had helped to heal at least, had been nothing compared to this...

"Just... why do you always have to do this?" she asked, as she washed away the congealed blood using the small towel she found next to the basin and ewer placed on the window sill, before dipping a wad of cotton wool into her favourite disinfectant. She was beginning to run out of some things; she needed to ask Helen to send her some more or make a trip into her other world personally. The only things she really missed from her old life were the disinfectants and antibiotics... 

Fiona shook her head to clear it; she needed to focus on the task at hand that was Peregrine. "Just why do you always have to fight, and get injured, and make me... suffer like this..." she finished in a whisper, the first tears spilling from her eyes stealing her voice as she observed the wonder of his healing-- the wounds, thanks to her attention, closing much quicker, the lacerated skin growing back together under her very eyes, the affect of medicine mixed with magic causing an instant miracle. 

She gasped with surprise when he reached behind and drew her on his lap, making her drop the cotton wool. He kissed her, making her moan when one skilled hand found its way into the bodice of her dress, caressing, teasing, promising... Botheration! She had never needed his... attentions so much as now, when she was pregnant... Right. She needed to tell him, and there would hardly be a better moment. 

"You know," she said, cupping his face to make him look into her eyes," it's not always better to burn out, than fade away. Especially if one is about to become a father, silly."

"No..." he gasped, making her frown. "I mean, yes! Yes! Repeat it, what did you just say?" he demanded, but his warm, large hand coming to lay carefully, reverentially on her still almost flat belly, told her that he had understood well.

Luckily, because someone knocked on the door even as she opened her mouth and she invited them in, instead of repeating the words that had made Peregrine's face glow like a candle. He reached for his shirt, magically restored into perfection, before Freddie entered.