𝐖𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘, 𝖺 𝗀𝗅𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝖻𝗎𝗆

(b.n) that finger looks empty

The Iron Lion's kitchen was filled with the warmth of stew, crackling firewood, and half-done repairs. 

Nico was wiping grease off his hands after fixing the gate latch when he heard Will's voice — loud, sharp, and already walking the fine line between teasing and too much.

"Hey, pirate," Will said, jerking his chin toward Bea, who was across the room in conversation with Nancy and Luke. She laughed at something, curls pinned back with her usual knife, sleeves rolled, light in her eyes. "That girl's been yours how long now?"

Nico raised an eyebrow but didn't answer.

Will didn't need one. He smirked and went on, loud enough to draw curious looks.

"Because I'm just sayin' if you don't put a ring on that finger, someone else might. She's smart, scary, and somehow still too good for your grumpy ass."

The laughter that followed was uneven. A few folks didn't know Will well enough to wince. Brenda muttered, "Oh, no."

Gally looked up from across the room and very slowly set his mug down.

Nico didn't flinch.

He stepped forward instead, calm and unreadable, and leaned one elbow against the table between them.

"Let me ask you something, Will," Nico said, his voice cool like steel just pulled from the sea. "You think a ring is what keeps her?"

Will blinked. "What?"

"I mean, you think something shiny on her finger is what holds a girl like Bea? Keeps her close? Makes her stay?"

"I— No, I just meant—"

"You think if I don't chain her down with tradition, she's yours for the taking?"

"...Wasn't trying to start anything."

Nico didn't raise his voice.

He just smiled — slow, sharp.

"She's not something you 'snatch.' She's someone you choose. Over and over. And if you're lucky, she chooses you back."

Will shifted on his feet, suddenly very aware of Nancy's glare and Thèrèse's very visible knife.

"Got it," Will muttered.

"Good."

Nico turned, about to walk away, but paused long enough to add under his breath:

"...And for the record? She doesn't like rings."

Later that night, Bea found him fixing the window shutters in their still half-finished house.

"Something happen?" she asked casually, even though she could tell from his clenched jaw and the very precise way he was hammering that he was thinking too hard.

"Nothing important," he muttered.

"...Did Will say something?"

Nico paused, then gave in. "He suggested I put a ring on your finger before someone else does."

Bea blinked, then burst out laughing. "What are we, a prize at the end of a race?"

"I said that, basically."

She grinned, walking over to steal the hammer from his hand. "You wanna know what I think?"

Nico raised an eyebrow. "Always."

Bea gently lifted her hand — the one with that "empty" finger — and placed it flat against his chest. "I don't need a ring to know who I belong with. But if you ever wanted to give me something..."

He looked at her, waiting.

"...Maybe a better hammer."

"Noted," he deadpanned, pulling her into his arms.

And she whispered against his neck, "But if you did ask, someday... I'd still say yes."