Ash and Song Chapter Four
In the quiet village of Grovehollow, a dragonborn warrior named Toryn is trying to learn what it means to stay.
Scarred from a life of battle and burdened by the belief that he is meant only for steel and solitude, Toryn never expects kindness—least of all from a soft-spoken human healer with golden hair and hands gentle enough to steady the fiercest flame. Cassius Ordo is shy, earnest, and quietly brave, tending wounds both seen and unseen. When he fusses over Toryn’s injuries with tender insistence, something long locked in the dragonborn’s chest begins to loosen.
--
My first story on here!
I'm mostly aiming for something sweet and fluffy. Perhaps expect spicier stuff in later chapters.
The small cottage came into full view now, smoke curling faintly from the chimney, the garden fragrant with herbs. Cass slowed, turning to Toryn with that soft, careful expression that never failed to unsettle him.
“You’ve walked quite a bit,” Cass said gently, adjusting the strap of his basket. “Are you… hungry? Have you eaten today?”
Toryn froze mid-step.
Eaten?
The thought had not even crossed his mind. The morning had passed in restless pacing, the market had distracted him, and his own body had been… secondary.
He opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught somewhere in his throat. He could feel the sudden tightness in his chest, the way heat seemed to curl beneath his scales.
Cass tilted his head slightly, waiting, his eyes patient and encouraging.
“I can… make you something,” he offered quietly, voice low and warm. “If you’d like. Lunch, perhaps. You can come in…” His hand gestured toward the open doorway. “…if you want. It’s no trouble.”
Toryn’s claws flexed subtly at his sides. His breath hitched ever so slightly, and he realized how his chest ached—not from exertion, but from the care and attention in that voice, in that gaze.
“No… I—” he started, faltering. Flustered. A rare, burning sensation of something almost like shame, mixed with desire, coursing through him. “I… yes.”
Cass’s lips curved into the faintest, most genuine smile. “Good,” he said softly. “Come in, then. I’ll make something simple.”
Toryn hesitated at the threshold, aware suddenly of how large he was in this small space, of how imposing his presence must seem. But the ache in his chest—the flutter of warmth that had nothing to do with heat or exertion—kept him rooted there.
He stepped inside.
The interior smelled faintly of lavender and dried herbs, the shelves lined with jars, neatly arranged and labeled. Sunlight filtered through the small windows, dust motes drifting lazily in the light.
Cass moved to the hearth, setting the basket down. “Sit,” he said, indicating a sturdy wooden chair near the table. “I’ll prepare something for you.”
Toryn lowered himself into the chair with an almost imperceptible groan, not from pain but from unfamiliarity—unaccustomed to being fussed over, to being cared for so thoroughly. His hands rested on his thighs, claws brushing the polished wood.
He watched as Cass moved efficiently yet gently, pulling out bread, cheese, herbs, and a small pot. Each movement seemed deliberate, mindful, the soft scrape of wood and metal like music to Toryn’s ears.
“You work hard at the forge,” Cass murmured as he chopped vegetables, eyes flicking up briefly. “You need more than scraps.”
Toryn felt the ache in his chest deepen.
This… this care. The way Cass noticed, remembered, anticipated. He had never been treated like this. Not by comrades, not by commanders, not by anyone. And yet here he was—flustered, tense, and achingly aware of every movement Cass made.
“It smells… good,” Toryn admitted quietly.
Cass glanced up, a slight blush warming his pale cheeks. “I hope you like it,” he said softly.
Toryn’s emerald eyes followed him as he worked, noticing every detail—the sweep of his golden hair over his shoulder, the careful handling of each ingredient, the faint crease of concentration on his forehead.
He wanted—he did not know what exactly—but he knew it was something dangerous, something unspoken and primal. He wanted to stay, to watch, to be near, to let this moment linger indefinitely.
Cass glanced back again, tilting his head. “Will you sit still for a moment while I heat this? It won’t take long.”
Toryn swallowed. “I—yes.”
And as he watched Cass carry the small pot to the table, set it before him, and finally sit across with a faint smile, Toryn realized that he had been starving—not for food, but for this.
For the care. For the gentleness. For the way someone could see him—not the sellsword, not the Dragonborn warrior, not the dangerous blade—but him.
His chest ached, warm and tight, as if the act of being looked after so tenderly had finally found a place to settle in his bones.
And somehow, amid the scent of herbs and bread and the soft light of the cottage, he felt the stirrings of something far older and far more dangerous than hunger.
Desire.
But desire wrapped in tenderness. Desire tempered by care.
Toryn, who had known nothing but survival for years, had no words for it. Only the rapid pulse beneath scales, and the impossibly human ache in his chest.
Cass placed a slice of bread in front of him with a quiet, hopeful smile. “Eat. Please.”
Toryn met his gaze. Something inside him broke just a little.
For a time, the only sounds in the small cottage were the quiet scrape of a spoon against pottery and the soft crackle of the hearth.
Toryn ate slowly.
Far more slowly than a creature his size normally would.
In truth, the food was good—warm, simple, fragrant with herbs from Cass’s own garden—but that was not the reason he lingered over each bite. He took careful mouthfuls, deliberate and measured, letting the moments stretch longer than they naturally would.
Because as long as he was still eating, he had reason to remain at this table.
Across from Cass.
Cass, meanwhile, seemed entirely unaware of the significance of the moment.
He talked.
Not loudly, not endlessly, but with a gentle, easy rhythm that filled the quiet space without overwhelming it.
“And there was a stall at the market today with the most beautiful flowers,” Cass was saying, eyes bright as he spoke. “Blue ones. I don’t know their proper name yet, but they had these tiny silver veins in the petals. I almost traded for them, but I wasn’t sure if they’d grow well in my garden.”
Toryn watched him as he spoke and listened.
Not the way a soldier listens for threats.
The way a thirsty man listens for water.
“They would,” Toryn said quietly.
Cass blinked at him. “Oh?”
“They match your eyes,” Toryn added, his voice steady though something in his chest tightened dangerously. “Anything that beautiful would thrive near you.”
Cass stared at him for a moment.
Then his expression brightened in sudden understanding.
“Oh! That’s true, actually—some plants do grow better when the soil conditions are just right!”
Toryn paused mid-bite.
The corner of his mouth twitched faintly.
“…Yes,” he said slowly.
Cass continued enthusiastically, entirely missing the attempt.
“I might go back tomorrow to see if they still have some. The petals were almost translucent when the light hit them. I think they’d look nice near the window.”
Toryn resumed eating, hiding the faintest huff of amused breath through his nose.
Gods.
He was trying.
He truly was.
Cass, meanwhile, had moved on.
“And I started that book I mentioned last week—the herbal compendium from the traveling scholar? It’s fascinating. There’s an entire chapter on mountain mosses that can be used for fever remedies. I never knew there were so many variations.”
Toryn leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table.
“And you remembered all of it already?” he asked.
Cass ducked his head with a shy laugh. “I like learning things.”
“I can see that.”
Cass picked at his bread thoughtfully.
“The scholar wrote that some mosses glow faintly under moonlight,” he continued. “I’m not sure if that part is true, but I’d love to find some someday.”
Toryn studied him quietly.
Golden hair spilling over his shoulder in its braid.
Blue eyes alive with curiosity.
Hopeful.
Gentle.
“You would make the forest glow brighter than any moss,” Toryn said.
Cass looked up again.
Another pause.
Then Cass nodded thoughtfully.
“That’s very kind of you to say.”
Toryn’s tail gave a small, almost imperceptible thump against the floor behind him.
Again.
Missed entirely.
Cass continued happily.
Toryn watched him speak.
Every small motion.
The way Cass gestured with his hands when excited. The slight tilt of his head when thinking. The warmth in his voice when speaking about helping others.
The ache in Toryn’s chest grew heavier.
But it was not painful.
Not entirely.
“You remember everyone’s needs,” Toryn said after a moment.
Cass blinked. “Well… someone has to.”
“You do it because you want to.”
Cass shrugged slightly.
“I just like helping.”
Toryn’s emerald gaze softened.
“You like making the world kinder.”
Cass laughed softly at that.
“That sounds much grander than it is.”
Toryn shook his head slowly.
“No,” he murmured. “It sounds exactly right.”
Cass smiled at that.
A bright, easy smile.
The kind that made something deep in Toryn’s chest tighten and unfurl all at once.
They fell into a comfortable quiet again.
Cass finished his tea first, cradling the mug between slender fingers.
“You eat very politely for a sellsword,” Cass said suddenly.
Toryn looked up.
“…Politely?”
Cass nodded.
“I’ve met soldiers before. They usually eat like they’re fighting the food.”
Toryn let out a low rumble of amusement.
“I could do that instead.”
Cass laughed again, bright and warm.
“No, this is nicer.”
Toryn allowed himself a small smile.
Good.
He would continue doing it this way then.
Anything that made Cass laugh like that was worth learning.
Cass rested his chin lightly on his hand as he watched him finish the last few bites.
“You seem more relaxed today,” Cass observed.
Toryn swallowed the final mouthful slowly.
“I am.”
Cass tilted his head.
“Because you rested?”
Toryn held his gaze.
“…Because I came here.”
Cass smiled again.
Warm.
Friendly.
Completely oblivious.
“Well,” Cass said lightly, rising to collect the bowls, “you’re always welcome for lunch if you need a break from the forge.”
Toryn watched him move about the kitchen.
The warmth in his chest deepened into something almost dangerous.
Always welcome.
Gods help him.
He would return every day if Cass allowed it.
Even if the healer never once noticed the way Toryn’s heart had already begun to circle him like a dragon guarding treasure.
-
Cass stood at the small basin beside the window, sleeves pushed to his elbows, carefully rinsing the bowls and cups they had used. Warm water steamed faintly in the afternoon light, and the soft clink of pottery filled the quiet cottage.
Toryn watched him from the table.
Watched the small, domestic rhythm of the healer’s movements.
Cass hummed quietly to himself as he worked—some tune Toryn didn’t recognize but that seemed familiar to the healer’s hands. His long golden hair had been gathered into a loose braid that fell down his back nearly to his waist, the strands glinting softly in the light.
Toryn’s gaze lingered there.
On the braid.
On the way it moved when Cass shifted.
He had always liked Cass’s hair loose.
It suited him better that way.
The thought lingered for a moment before Toryn realized something unusual—
He was still sitting.
Still watching.
Still hesitating.
A dragonborn warrior who had faced blades and monsters without flinching… hesitating over a braid.
His tail gave a faint, irritated flick.
Enough.
He stood.
Cass didn’t seem to notice at first, still focused on the dishes. Toryn crossed the small space of the cottage quietly, his steps heavy but careful on the wooden floor.
He stopped just behind Cass.
Close enough that he could smell the familiar mix of lavender, herbs, and clean soap.
Cass stilled slightly.
Not frightened—just aware.
“Toryn?” he asked lightly without turning. “Did you want more tea?”
Toryn did not answer immediately.
Instead, one clawed hand lifted slowly.
He reached for the end of the braid.
Cass blinked in mild confusion as Toryn’s fingers found the tie.
And then—
Tug.
The braid unraveled.
Golden hair spilled free in a soft cascade down Cass’s back, loose waves falling past his waist.
Cass gasped softly.
“Oh—!”
He turned halfway around in surprise, hands still damp from the basin.
“Toryn!”
There was no anger in it.
Only startled fluster.
Toryn held the loose tie between two claws, studying his handiwork with quiet approval.
“Yes,” he rumbled softly.
Cass stared at him, wide-eyed.
“My braid—!”
“I prefer it this way,” Toryn said calmly.
Cass blinked.
Once.
Twice.
His cheeks flushed faintly pink.
“Oh.”
He reached back awkwardly, fingers brushing through the newly freed strands as if unsure what to do with them now.
“You could have asked,” Cass said, though there was no real scolding in his voice.
Toryn stepped closer.
Close enough that Cass had to tilt his head back slightly to look up at him.
“Would you have said yes?” Toryn asked.
Cass hesitated.
“…maybe?”
Toryn hummed.
“I will remember that.”
Before Cass could respond, Toryn’s hand lifted again.
Slowly.
Carefully.
His large, scaled fingers slid gently into the loose waves of Cass’s hair.
Cass inhaled sharply.
The strands were softer than Toryn had imagined.
Silk between his claws.
He let them slide through his fingers once.
Then again.
Cass froze completely.
“T-Toryn,” he said quietly.
Not protesting.
Just… very aware.
Toryn lowered his head slightly, studying the way the golden hair caught the light.
“It suits you better,” he murmured.
Cass swallowed.
“My… hair?”
“Yes.”
Toryn’s fingers continued their slow path through the strands, almost absentmindedly, as if testing their texture.
“You hide it away,” he said. “You should not.”
Cass’s blush deepened.
“I braid it so it doesn’t get in the way while I’m working.”
“Hmm.”
Toryn leaned slightly closer.
Close enough now that Cass could likely feel the heat from his scales.
“That seems like a poor reason to hide something beautiful.”
Cass’s brain seemed to stop.
Entirely.
“…what?”
Toryn paused.
Studied his face.
The confusion.
The fluster.
The faint pink dusting across his cheeks.
His tail flicked slowly behind him.
He tried again.
“My meaning,” Toryn said carefully, letting his fingers comb through the last of the loose strands, “is that your hair is very… pleasant.”
Cass blinked.
“Oh.”
Silence stretched.
Then Cass smiled warmly.
“That’s very nice of you to say.”
Toryn closed his eyes briefly.
Just briefly.
Gods above.
When he opened them again, Cass was already turning back toward the basin, cheeks still faintly pink but clearly recovering.
“Well,” Cass said, voice slightly hurried now, “I suppose it’s fine to leave it down for a little while.”
Toryn’s hand slowly lowered.
“Yes,” he said quietly.
Cass finished the last dish, drying his hands on a cloth before glancing back at him.
“Did you need something?” he asked.
Toryn stared at him.
This man.
This impossible, oblivious, gentle man.
“I did,” Toryn said at last.
Cass tilted his head curiously.
“What?”
Toryn watched the loose strands of gold fall across Cass’s shoulder.
His chest tightened again with that strange, warm ache.
“…nothing,” he said finally.
Cass smiled.
“Well, if you think of it, just ask.”
Toryn made a low sound in his chest that might have been amusement.
Or surrender.
Gods help him.
Courting this man might be the most difficult battle he had ever fought.
-
Cass turned back toward the basin to hang the cloth he had been drying his hands with.
The floorboards near the wash basin were still damp from the dishes. Neither of them noticed.
Cass stepped—
And his foot slid.
“Oh—!”
The world tilted.
Before he could even think to catch himself, strong arms wrapped around his waist and hauled him upright with startling speed.
Cass gasped.
Toryn’s reflexes were faster than thought, faster than instinct. Years of battle had carved reactions into bone and muscle long before the mind could intervene.
One moment Cass was falling.
The next—
He was pressed firmly against the Dragonborn’s chest.
Toryn’s arms were around him, one hand splayed securely across the small of his back, the other bracing his side as he steadied them both.
Cass’s breath caught.
The room suddenly felt very small.
Very warm.
“Oh—!” Cass repeated softly, blinking in surprise.
Toryn did not let go.
For a moment he simply held him there, ensuring the healer had his footing again.
But then Cass became… very aware.
Of the strength in those arms.
Of the solid wall of muscle beneath scales.
Of how close they were.
Cass’s hands had instinctively grabbed hold of Toryn’s shoulders when he slipped, and now they remained there, fingers curled against the dark scales that lined the Dragonborn’s collar.
“T-thank you,” Cass murmured, cheeks flushing.
Toryn looked down at him.
Emerald eyes darkened slightly.
The position left Cass pressed fully against him, slender frame fitting easily within Toryn’s grasp. The healer was lighter than he should be, delicate in a way that made something deeply protective stir inside the Dragonborn’s chest.
His hands tightened slightly before he realized it.
Gods.
Cass was warm.
Real.
Close enough that Toryn could feel the subtle rise and fall of his breath.
Close enough that the loose curtain of golden hair brushed against Toryn’s chest and shoulder, strands catching against the edges of his scales.
Too close.
And yet—
Toryn did not move.
Cass looked up.
Their faces were suddenly much nearer than either of them had intended.
For a heartbeat, neither spoke.
Toryn’s grip remained firm around Cass’s waist.
Stronger than necessary.
Cass noticed.
The moment stretched, charged with something neither of them quite understood.
Toryn’s chest rose slowly with a breath.
Cass’s heart fluttered rapidly against his ribs.
Toryn became acutely aware of the slender body in his arms.
Of how easily he could lift him.
Of how natural it felt to hold him there.
A dangerous warmth spread beneath his scales.
His thumb shifted unconsciously against Cass’s side.
Cass inhaled softly.
“Toryn…” he said quietly.
Not alarmed.
Just… aware.
Very aware.
Toryn blinked, as if waking from something.
“Yes.”
He still did not let go.
Another heartbeat passed.
Then—
BANG. BANG. BANG.
Frantic knocking exploded against the cottage door.
“Cassius! Cassius!”
A voice shouted from outside, panicked and breathless.
“Someone’s hurt!”
Cass startled.
“Oh!”
Reality snapped back into place.
Toryn immediately loosened his grip, stepping back as Cass regained his balance fully.
Cass pushed a strand of hair behind his ear, cheeks still flushed from the sudden closeness.
“Coming!” he called toward the door.
Another frantic knock followed.
“Hurry!”
Cass moved quickly now, healer instincts overtaking everything else. He grabbed his satchel from the nearby table, already mentally sorting through what he might need.
Toryn watched him for only a moment before moving as well.
The calm warmth from seconds ago vanished, replaced by the focused readiness of a former soldier.
Cass reached the door and pulled it open.
A young farmer stood there, breathing hard, dirt smeared across his tunic.
“It’s Jarek,” the man panted. “He fell from the lumber cart. His leg—gods, Cass, it’s bad.”
Cass’s expression sharpened immediately.
“Where is he?”
“Just outside the village road.”
“I’m coming.”
Cass stepped out onto the stoop—
Then paused.
He turned back toward Toryn, who was already rising from the table.
For a moment their eyes met again.
Something from the earlier moment still lingered there.
Unspoken.
Unresolved.
Cass swallowed lightly.
“Would you… come with us?” he asked.
Toryn didn’t hesitate.
“Of course.”
He stepped forward, towering presence suddenly very useful.
The frantic farmer looked visibly relieved at the sight of him.
“Good,” the man muttered. “We might need help carrying him.”
Cass nodded once and hurried down the path.
Toryn followed at his side.
But as they moved quickly toward the road, one thought lingered stubbornly in the Dragonborn’s mind—
The memory of Cass in his arms.
And how difficult it had been to let him go.
-
They found the injured man just beyond the village road where the lumber trail curved toward the forest.
A small crowd had gathered already—two farmers, a pair of woodcutters, and a nervous boy holding the reins of a mule that stamped restlessly beside the tipped lumber cart.
The man on the ground groaned.
His leg was twisted beneath him at an unnatural angle.
Cass moved immediately.
“Everyone give him space,” he said, voice calm but firm as he knelt beside the injured man.
The crowd shuffled back.
Toryn stepped forward instinctively, his size alone enough to create a wider circle around them.
The injured man—Jarek, apparently—was pale and sweating, his hands clutching the dirt as pain rippled through him.
“Cass…” he rasped. “Gods, it hurts.”
“I know,” Cass said gently.
His voice changed when he worked—softer, steadier, carrying a quiet authority that made people listen without question.
He set his satchel beside him and opened it quickly, fingers moving through neatly organized bundles of cloth, vials, and small jars.
Toryn crouched beside him.
“What do you need?” he asked.
Cass didn’t even look up.
“Hold his shoulders.”
Toryn moved instantly.
Jarek tensed when the large Dragonborn knelt near him, but Toryn’s grip was careful as he placed his hands on the man’s upper arms, keeping him steady without pinning him down.
Cass gently examined the leg.
His fingers pressed lightly along the shin, then the knee.
Jarek cried out.
“Easy,” Cass murmured. “Easy. I know.”
Toryn felt the man tremble beneath his grip.
“It’s broken,” Cass said quietly after a moment.
The crowd murmured.
Cass ignored them.
He was already working.
“Jarek, listen to me,” he continued calmly. “I’m going to set the bone back into place. It will hurt for a moment, but it needs to be done now before the swelling worsens.”
Jarek’s face went white.
Toryn leaned slightly closer.
“Look at me,” he told the man.
Jarek’s eyes snapped to his.
“Breathe,” Toryn said firmly.
The simple command steadied him.
Cass glanced briefly at the Dragonborn.
Gratitude flickered in his blue eyes.
“Good,” Cass said softly.
He pulled a small cloth from his satchel and soaked it with something sharp-smelling from a vial.
“Bite this,” he instructed.
Jarek obeyed shakily.
Cass positioned his hands carefully along the injured leg.
His movements were precise now, deliberate.
“Toryn,” he said quietly.
“Yes.”
“Hold him steady.”
Toryn’s grip tightened slightly on the man’s shoulders.
“Ready,” he said.
Cass inhaled once.
Then—
He pulled and shifted the leg sharply.
A sickening pop echoed.
Jarek screamed through the cloth.
His body jerked violently, but Toryn held him firmly in place.
The moment passed quickly.
Cass’s hands remained steady.
“It’s done,” he murmured.
Jarek’s scream faded into ragged breathing.
Cass quickly began wrapping the leg with splints from his satchel, securing the bone carefully while the crowd watched in tense silence.
Toryn stayed exactly where he was until Cass finished.
“Alright,” Cass said finally, tying the last knot in the bandage.
He looked up at Toryn.
“We need to get him back to my cottage so he can rest properly.”
Toryn nodded immediately.
Without hesitation, he slid one arm beneath Jarek’s back and the other beneath his uninjured leg.
The man barely weighed anything.
Cass steadied the splinted limb carefully as Toryn lifted him.
The crowd parted as the Dragonborn rose to his full height with the injured man cradled easily in his arms.
Cass gathered his satchel.
“We’ll take him to my cottage,” he told the others. “His wife should be told.”
“I’ll fetch her!” the young boy offered, already running.
Cass exhaled slowly.
The tension of the moment faded now that the immediate danger had passed.
He looked up at Toryn.
The Dragonborn stood tall, holding the injured man with remarkable gentleness for someone so powerful.
Their eyes met briefly.
Something warm flickered in Cass’s chest.
“You’re very good at that,” Cass said quietly as they began walking.
“At carrying people?”
“At helping.”
Toryn glanced down at him.
“You asked.”
Cass smiled faintly.
“Yes,” he said. “I did.”
They continued down the path toward the cottage together—Cass guiding the way, Toryn carrying the patient—moving with an ease that felt strangely natural.
As if they had done this many times before.
And perhaps, in time, they would again.
-
By the time they reached Cass’s cottage again, the sun had begun to sink lower in the sky, painting the forest in warm amber light.
Toryn pushed the door open with his shoulder.
“Table,” Cass directed softly as he hurried inside ahead of him, already clearing space.
Toryn laid Jarek carefully across the wide wooden table Cass used for examinations. The injured man groaned faintly but remained conscious, sweat clinging to his brow.
Cass moved quickly now, the calm focus returning to him.
“Boil water,” he said automatically.
Toryn didn’t ask where.
He found the kettle beside the hearth and set it over the flame while Cass unwrapped the splint to properly inspect the injury.
Jarek clenched his teeth as Cass’s fingers pressed along the swollen limb.
“Good,” Cass murmured. “The bone stayed in place.”
He cleaned the wound carefully, rinsing away dirt and blood with a cloth soaked in warm water once Toryn brought it over.
“Thank you,” Cass said without looking up.
Toryn simply nodded and remained nearby, watching in quiet readiness.
Cass worked steadily—applying salve, tightening the splint with cleaner bandages, checking circulation, adjusting the position of the leg.
His movements had grown slower now.
Not clumsy.
Just tired.
The earlier urgency had burned through his energy quickly.
Toryn noticed.
Cass did not seem to.
“Jarek,” Cass said gently when he finished. “You’ll need to stay off that leg for several weeks. I’ll give you herbs for the pain and swelling.”
Jarek gave a weak laugh.
“My wife will make sure of that.”
As if summoned by the comment, hurried footsteps approached outside.
The door burst open and a woman rushed in, breathless and wide-eyed.
“Jarek!”
She rushed to his side, clutching his hand.
Cass gave her a reassuring smile.
“He’ll recover,” Cass said gently. “The bone is set. He’ll need rest, but he’ll be alright.”
The woman sagged in visible relief.
“Thank the gods.”
Toryn stepped quietly aside, giving them space.
Cass gathered a small pouch of herbs and handed it to her, explaining how to prepare the tea and when Jarek should take it.
His voice remained steady, patient.
But Toryn saw the subtle signs others might miss.
The slight droop of Cass’s shoulders.
The slower movements.
The faint shadows beneath his eyes.
The healer was exhausted.
Once the instructions were finished, Toryn lifted Jarek again so the man’s wife and the farmer who had fetched Cass earlier could help carry him home.
They thanked Cass repeatedly as they left.
Soon the cottage grew quiet again.
The door closed.
The last of the tension drained from the room.
Cass stood there for a moment.
Still.
Then he exhaled deeply.
His shoulders sagged.
“Oh…”
He leaned a hand against the edge of the table as if suddenly remembering how tired he was.
Toryn watched him carefully.
“You should sit,” he said.
Cass gave a small, breathless laugh.
“I’m fine.”
He took one step.
Then another.
Before finally sinking into the nearest chair with a soft thump.
“…perhaps for a moment.”
Toryn approached slowly.
Cass rubbed his face with both hands, pushing stray strands of golden hair back behind his ears.
“I’m glad you came with me,” he admitted quietly.
Toryn leaned against the table nearby, arms folding across his chest.
“You did the work.”
Cass shook his head faintly.
“I couldn’t have moved him without you.”
A small silence followed.
Cass looked up at him then, tired but smiling.
“You’re very good in a crisis.”
Toryn considered that.
“I spent many years creating them,” he said dryly.
Cass huffed softly at that.
Then the humor faded.
He leaned back in the chair, head tipping against the wall, eyes closing for just a moment.
The loose curtain of golden hair slipped forward across his shoulders.
Toryn felt that familiar ache again.
“You push yourself too hard,” he said quietly.
Cass opened one eye.
“That sounds like something I told you yesterday.”
“Yes.”
Cass smiled faintly.
“Well… I suppose that makes us even.”
The room fell quiet again.
Outside, evening birds had begun their songs.
Cass’s breathing slowed slightly as he rested.
Toryn remained where he was, watching.
Guarding.
After a long moment, Cass spoke again, voice softer now.
“…Thank you for staying.”
Toryn’s gaze softened.
“There is nowhere else I would rather be.”
Cass smiled sleepily at that.
And for once—
He did not miss the meaning behind the words.
-
The cottage had grown very quiet.
The last light of the evening filtered through the window above the basin, turning the drifting dust motes into soft gold. Outside, the forest had begun its night chorus—crickets, rustling leaves, the distant call of some night bird.
Cass still sat in the chair near the table.
Or rather… he tried to.
He had straightened once or twice, blinking himself awake, brushing his hair back from his face as if determined to remain present.
“I should clean up,” he murmured sleepily at one point, eyes half-lidded as he looked toward the scattered cloths and medical supplies.
Toryn didn’t move from where he stood nearby.
“You already did enough today.”
Cass blinked slowly at him.
“Yes, but—”
His sentence dissolved into a quiet yawn he tried unsuccessfully to hide behind his hand.
Toryn’s mouth twitched.
Cass shook his head faintly as if scolding himself.
“I’m not usually this—”
His voice faded again.
Another long blink.
Toryn folded his arms loosely across his chest, watching.
Cass fought sleep with the quiet determination of someone who felt responsible for staying awake.
He lasted perhaps another minute.
His head tilted slightly to the side.
His breathing slowed.
Then finally—
Cassius Dyre fell asleep sitting in the chair.
Just like that.
Toryn stood there for a moment, unmoving.
Watching.
The healer’s head had tipped gently against the back of the chair, golden hair spilling over one shoulder in a loose curtain. One hand still rested on the edge of the table as if he had intended to rise again.
But exhaustion had claimed him first.
Toryn exhaled slowly through his nose.
Of course.
The man spent all day caring for everyone else and then wondered why he was tired.
He approached quietly.
Cass didn’t stir.
Even up close, he looked impossibly soft like this. The faint tension that usually lived in his shoulders had melted away in sleep, leaving his expression peaceful, vulnerable.
Toryn crouched slightly beside the chair.
“Cass,” he said quietly.
No response.
He tried again, softer.
“Cassius.”
Nothing.
Only the slow, steady rise and fall of his breathing.
Toryn hesitated.
Then sighed under his breath.
“Stubborn healer.”
Carefully—far more carefully than someone his size should have been capable of—he slipped one arm behind Cass’s back and the other beneath his knees.
Cass stirred faintly as he was lifted, a soft sound escaping him as his head instinctively shifted toward warmth.
Then he settled again.
Asleep.
Completely.
Toryn froze for half a heartbeat.
Because Cass had unconsciously leaned against him.
His cheek rested lightly against the Dragonborn’s shoulder.
Warm breath brushing the scales along Toryn’s neck.
Gods.
Toryn swallowed.
Carefully.
He carried Cass toward the small bedroom at the back of the cottage, ducking slightly beneath the low doorway.
The room was simple.
A narrow bed.
A wooden chest.
A small window where moonlight had begun to slip through the curtains.
Toryn approached the bed slowly.
Lowered Cass onto the mattress.
For a moment, Cass stirred again as the warmth disappeared.
His hand shifted slightly across the blanket.
Toryn stood there longer than necessary, adjusting the pillow beneath Cass’s head, pulling the blanket up around his shoulders.
Cass sighed softly in his sleep.
Golden hair spread across the pillow like sunlight.
Toryn stepped back.
He should leave.
He knew he should.
But his feet didn’t move.
Instead, he found himself sitting on the edge of the bed.
Just for a moment.
Just to make sure Cass was comfortable.
That was all.
He looked down at him.
The healer’s face was calm now, lashes resting against pale skin, lips slightly parted as he slept.
So small.
So gentle.
Toryn’s chest tightened painfully.
He had carried wounded soldiers from battlefields.
Held dying men in his arms.
But this—
This felt far more dangerous.
Because Cass trusted him without even knowing it.
Toryn leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees.
His tail flicked slowly once behind him.
The bed dipped slightly beneath his weight.
For a fleeting moment, a powerful instinct stirred deep in his chest.
Stay.
The thought came unbidden.
Lie beside him.
Guard him.
Sleep here.
The image flashed vividly in Toryn’s mind—Cass curled safely against his chest, warm and soft and trusting.
The urge hit him like a physical pull.
His claws dug slightly into his palms.
No.
He stood abruptly.
That was not his place.
Not yet.
Perhaps never.
Cass shifted in his sleep at the movement, turning slightly onto his side. One hand curled loosely near the pillow, fingers brushing the strands of his own hair.
Toryn watched him for another moment.
Then another.
His voice, when it came, was little more than a whisper.
“Rest well, healer.”
He turned toward the door.
But before leaving, he paused one last time at the threshold.
Looking back.
At the quiet room.
At the sleeping man who had somehow become the center of his wandering world.
Toryn’s chest rose slowly with a deep breath.
Then he slipped silently out of the cottage and into the cool night.
Leaving Cass to sleep—unaware that the Dragonborn who had once wandered without purpose now found it harder each day to walk away from him.