War and Peace and Pancakes

Tenderness

It was rare that the house was empty when Urdu was there. Normally it was the other two waiting for her to come home and not the other way around. She had spent so much time there, most of her free hours now, but it still wasn't her home. She could see traces of Sam all over, bursts of colour and decorations beyond the out of the package look that Tim must have had before the witch had come into his life.

Her Prince had been playing something close to his chest of late, though Urdu suspected she knew more than most, though she had been commanded into silence. Even if she had wanted to break her promise, she would not be able to. She could barely even think about it, other than remembering that time here was running short. Every room held a memory within it for her and as she paced into the main bedroom she paused, letting out a pained breath.

She knew Sam didn't have the bracelet on, she could feel the emptiness where the witch should be. That emptiness was more typical than feeling her thrumming awareness through this hobbled connection. But seeing it still sitting on the bear, where Sam continued to put it, Urdu felt a flash of annoyance that had her crossing the room to pick up the stuffed toy, half tempted to rip the damned thing's head off to prevent it from being able to hold the bracelet.

The soft body of the creature crumpled in her hands as she clenched them, collapsing the bear into a small ball of fluff and fabric around the bracelet. The fury was more at the realization of what she was going to do. The lack of connection with her mate a symbol of what was surely to come.

"She's fine, you know." Tim was behind her, his movements quieter, his presence less noticed by her wards than they had been. He was coming into his own powers more and more every day, even if he didn't realize it. "I can feel our connection a lot better than before. You don't have to worry."

Urdu tossed the bear back on the bed, where it slowly started to regain its shape, though not very quickly or very well. She turned to him and frowned, raising her hands and sliding off her own bracelet and tossing it on the bed, before disappearing. He jerked in surprise, unable to sense her, unable to feel her as she watched for a moment.

His hurt expression tore at her heart a little bit more, and she reappeared across the room, with the bed between them. "It's not that I don't trust you. Its that I feel that... all the time."

"Then we'll talk to her again, we'll make her promise to wear it." Tim snatched the bracelet from the bed and stalked towards her, frowning when Urdu made no move to approach him. "Please. She can feel you through this too, through my connection with her. She's told me that it helps her know we're both safe."

"Ah. So I'm the only one who is left in the dark." Urdu shook her head, though she didn't pull away when he clipped the bracelet back around her wrist. "Things are dangerous here. I know you are both capable... but I need the connection...I have no way of knowing. When she was sick, I didn't know until you started getting worried. And even then, you barely let me feel anything."

"I don't want to distract you." Tim muttered stubbornly, meeting her glare in kind, reaching up to grab her face in both hands, stepping closer. "I love you both, so much, Urdu. I fear that she only feels my affection for you."

Urdu flinched at that, shaking her head and taking a step back from him, "and my feelings for her, they're nothing? I don't get her genuine feelings? Just shadows, reflections of yours. How conceited you are, to believe that she could only be feeling your love for me."

Tim stood there, watching her carefully, shaking his head slowly. "That's not what I meant. She loves you, but sometimes our feelings, it is hard to tell where her and I are separate."

"You two are very much of one mind and heart sometimes." Urdu murmured, glancing down at the bracelet, doing her best to ignore his worry coming through. Surely she had a little time left, she could enjoy it for a little while longer.