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Cassius

Morning came gently to Grovehollow.

Soft light filtered through the small window of Cass’s bedroom, pale gold and quiet, accompanied by the distant sounds of the waking village—roosters calling, wagon wheels creaking somewhere down the road, the faint murmur of early voices in the market square.

Cassius stirred beneath the blanket.

For a moment, he floated in that hazy place between sleep and waking, warm and comfortable. His body felt heavy with the kind of exhaustion that came after a long day well spent.

Then something in his mind tugged.

A small confusion.

Cass blinked slowly and rolled onto his back.

The ceiling above him came into focus.

His ceiling.

His room.

His bed.

Cass frowned slightly.

“…huh?”

He pushed himself upright, golden hair falling around his shoulders in a loose cascade. It was tangled from sleep and far messier than he usually allowed, strands clinging to his face as he blinked the last of the sleep from his eyes.

He distinctly remembered sitting in the chair.

He remembered talking with Toryn.

He remembered being very tired.

But…

Cass looked around the room again.

He was very much not in the chair.

He was in bed.

Properly.

Blanket pulled up.

Pillow adjusted.

Cass blinked again.

Then he looked down at himself.

His boots had been removed.

Cass froze.

“…oh.”

A slow realization crept across his face.

“Oh!”

He rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks warming slightly as memory filled in the missing pieces.

He hadn’t walked here.

Which meant—

“Toryn carried me.”

The words slipped out quietly into the empty room.

Cass sat there for a moment with that thought.

The image formed easily in his mind.

The Dragonborn lifting him like it was nothing.

Those strong arms he had felt around his waist yesterday when he slipped—

Cass’s ears turned pink.

“…oh gods.”

He buried his face briefly in his hands.

How embarrassing.

He had fallen asleep in the middle of the room like some overworked apprentice while a guest was still there.

And Toryn had…

Cass peeked at the blanket again.

Tucked him in.

Carefully.

A soft warmth settled in his chest that had nothing to do with embarrassment.

That was very kind

Cass swung his legs out of bed and stood, stretching slightly. His muscles protested faintly—another reminder of yesterday’s long hours—but the discomfort was manageable.

He walked into the main room of the cottage.

Everything was tidied.

The medical supplies had been neatly put away.

The basin emptied.

Even the kettle had been rinsed and left beside the hearth.

Cass paused in the doorway, looking around.

“Toryn…”

He smiled faintly to himself.

The Dragonborn hadn’t just carried him to bed.

He had quietly finished the work Cass had been too exhausted to complete.

Cass felt something warm and unfamiliar flutter quietly beneath his ribs.

He moved toward the basin to splash cool water on his face, pushing his hair back as he did.

His reflection in the small mirror showed slightly flushed cheeks and sleep-soft eyes.

…he didn’t have to do all that.

But he had.

Cass thought back to the previous afternoon.

Toryn helping treat Jarek.

Toryn carrying him home.

Toryn quietly supporting everything Cass had needed without complaint.

Cass dried his face with a cloth, thoughtful now.

People in the village were still getting used to the Dragonborn’s presence.

Many were polite.

Some were wary.

Marcus had certainly been wary.

Cass remembered the hunter’s warning from the market.

You trust that Dragonborn too easily.

Cass frowned faintly at the thought.

Because the truth was…

He did trust him.

Without really knowing why.

Perhaps it was the way Toryn listened when Cass spoke.

Or how carefully he had held Jarek’s injured body.

Or the fact that when Cass had slipped yesterday—

The memory flashed again.

Strong arms catching him instantly.

Holding him close.

Cass felt his face warm again.

“…that was just because I was falling,” he told the empty room quickly.

He cleared his throat and shook his head as if dismissing the thought.

Still.

He found himself smiling again.

“Toryn’s very dependable,” he said aloud.

Cass stepped outside onto the cottage stoop, breathing in the cool morning air.

The village was already beginning to stir.

Smoke from cooking fires drifted lazily upward, and somewhere down the road someone was laughing.

Cass leaned lightly against the doorframe.

His gaze drifted toward the center of the village.

Toward the forge.

He wondered if Toryn had returned to work already.

Cass clasped his hands loosely together, watching the distant movement of people starting their day.

“…I should thank him,” he murmured thoughtfully.

Yes.

That would be the polite thing to do.

He nodded once, satisfied with the idea.

Then turned back inside to start his morning tea, entirely unaware that the thought of seeing Toryn again had already brightened his mood far more than he realized.

The morning passed quietly after that.

Cass prepared tinctures near the window while sunlight spilled warmly across the cottage floorboards, turning bundles of drying herbs gold at the edges. Normally the routine soothed him entirely—the steady grinding of roots and leaves, the familiar scents of mint and lavender, the quiet hum of village life outside.

But today his thoughts wandered.

Frequently.

Unhelpfully.

Toward a very large Dragonborn.

Cass sighed softly as he tied off another bundle of herbs.

“You’re being ridiculous,” he informed himself.

The herbs offered no opinion.

Cass glanced toward the forge through the window again anyway.

He remembered waking in bed.

The neatly tidied cottage.

The blanket tucked carefully around him.

And then there had been yesterday afternoon itself—Toryn beside him helping treat Jarek with such calm steadiness it had felt as though they had worked together for years.

Cass’s chest warmed at the thought.

Toryn was… surprisingly gentle.

Not soft exactly.

There was still something dangerous about him. Something heavy and restrained that lived beneath those emerald eyes. But the danger was controlled. Deliberate.

And with Cass—

Toryn always seemed careful.

Cass looked down at the loaf of bread cooling beside the counter.

He had not meant to bake extra.

It had simply… happened.

Along with the roasted vegetables and herb butter wrapped neatly in cloth.

A thank-you, he told himself.

Nothing more.

Toryn had helped him yesterday. Carrying Jarek, cleaning the cottage, making certain Cass rested.

It was only polite.

Still, Cass took perhaps more care than necessary arranging everything neatly into a small basket.

When he finished, he stood staring at it for a long moment.

Then sighed again.

“…I’m bringing lunch to a blacksmith,” he muttered. “That’s normal.”

Completely normal.

Ignoring the warmth in his face, Cass gathered the basket and set off toward the village.

The forge came into view quickly, thick smoke rising from its chimney while the sharp ring of hammer against steel echoed through Grovehollow.

Cass slowed instinctively.

His feet stopped several paces from the open forge doors.

The sound alone tightened something unpleasant in his stomach.

Steel.

Heat.

The memory came unwanted as always—raised voices, shattered furniture, blood on floorboards, the flash of a blade.

Cass inhaled slowly through his nose.

He knew the forge was safe.

Master Hallik was kind.

No one inside would hurt him.

And still—

He remained outside.

Close enough to peer toward the open doorway, but not enough to enter.

Inside, several workers moved through the haze of heat and sparks.

And towering among them—

Toryn.

Cass’s breath caught faintly.

The Dragonborn stood near the central anvil, sleeves rolled back, broad arms flexing as he worked heated metal beneath the hammer. Firelight gleamed against crimson scales and the black markings along his chest and throat.

Gods.

Cass had never truly watched him work before.

Toryn moved with startling precision for someone so large. Controlled power. Each strike deliberate.

Beautiful, a traitorous part of Cass’s mind supplied immediately.

Cass flushed.

Then Toryn suddenly stilled.

The hammer lowered slightly.

His head turned.

Directly toward the door.

Toward Cass.

Even across the forge, those emerald eyes found him instantly.

Cass blinked in surprise.

Toryn’s expression shifted almost immediately from focus to startled confusion.

Then something softer.

Cass lifted the basket slightly in awkward greeting.

The Dragonborn handed the hammer off to another worker without taking his eyes off Cass and crossed the forge floor immediately.

Toryn

Toryn caught his scent before he saw him.

Lavender first.

Then honey.

And beneath both, something softer that belonged uniquely to one particular human.

The scent cut through smoke, hot iron, and sweat instantly.

Toryn looked up before he consciously realized he was doing it.

And there he was.

Standing just beyond the forge entrance with sunlight spilling around him.

Golden hair loose again today.

Basket in hand.

Toryn nearly missed his next breath.

The forge suddenly felt far too hot.

“What’s got into you?” one of the apprentices muttered as Toryn abruptly stopped mid-swing.

Toryn ignored him entirely.

Cassius was here.

At the forge.

For him.

The realization hit him squarely in the chest.

He crossed the room before he could think too much about it, pulse suddenly strange beneath his scales.

Cass smiled when he approached.

Small.

Warm.

Dangerous to Toryn’s sanity.

“Hello,” Cass said softly.

Toryn stared at him for half a second too long.

“…hello.”

Cass lifted the basket slightly again.

“I brought you lunch.”

Toryn blinked.

“You… what?”

Cass’s cheeks pinkened faintly.

“As thanks for yesterday,” he explained quickly. “You helped a great deal, and I realized this morning you probably wouldn’t stop working long enough to eat properly unless someone reminded you.”

Toryn felt something in his chest ache so hard it bordered on painful.

No one had ever brought him food before.

Not because they wished to.

Not because they cared whether he had eaten.

Cass shifted slightly under the Dragonborn’s silence.

“I hope that’s alright,” he added.

Toryn realized he had not responded.

“Yes,” he said immediately. Too quickly. “Yes. It is.”

Cass smiled again, relieved.

Gods.

Toryn accepted the basket carefully, claws unusually mindful of crushing anything.

Warmth still lingered through the cloth.

“You made this?” he asked quietly.

Cass nodded.

“Mostly this morning.”

Toryn opened the cloth slightly.

Fresh bread.

Roasted vegetables.

Herb butter.

Something inside him melted completely.

“You should not have,” he murmured.

“I wanted to.”

Toryn looked up sharply at that.

Cass seemed not to notice what those words did to him.

Or perhaps he noticed a little this time, because his own cheeks colored slightly afterward.

The forge noises faded strangely into the background.

Toryn became aware of several workers pretending not to stare.

Master Hallik openly staring.

The old dwarf’s beard twitched suspiciously like he was hiding amusement.

Toryn ignored all of them.

Cass shifted awkwardly near the doorway, still unwilling to step fully inside.

Toryn noticed immediately.

His gaze flicked briefly toward the weapons hanging along the forge walls.

Understanding settled quietly.

Without comment, Toryn stepped slightly closer to the entrance instead, blocking more of the interior from view with his broad frame.

Cass visibly relaxed.

The subtle trust of that nearly undid Toryn entirely.

“You came all this way just to bring me lunch?” Toryn asked.

Cass blinked.

“Well… yes.”

Toryn stared at him helplessly for a moment.

Then, before courage could fail him entirely, he spoke again.

“Cassius.”

Cass looked up.

Toryn’s throat suddenly felt too tight.

Gods above, he had faced commanders with steadier nerves than this.

“If…” he began carefully, “when my work is finished tonight…”

Cass waited patiently.

Toryn forced the words out.

“May I come by your cottage?”

Cass’s expression softened instantly.

“Of course.”

Relief hit Toryn with embarrassing force.

“I uhm... noticed,” he continued quickly before he lost momentum, “some things around the cottage that could use repair.”

Cass tilted his head slightly.

“Repair?”

“The back fence leans,” Toryn said. “And your window latch is loose. The steps near the garden are beginning to rot.”

Cass stared at him in surprise.

“You noticed all that?”

Toryn hesitated.

He had noticed far more than that.

“I notice things about places I…” His voice roughened slightly. “…care about.”

Cass went very still.

For one dangerous moment, Toryn thought perhaps he had said too much.

Then Cass smiled.

Soft and warm enough to make Toryn’s pulse stumble.

“Well,” Cass said gently, “I would appreciate the help very much.”

Toryn felt absurdly victorious.

“Good.”

Cass glanced toward the forge again, unease briefly returning at the sounds of steel.

“I should let you get back to work,” he said.

Toryn nodded reluctantly.

Cass began stepping backward down the path.

Then paused.

“Oh—and eat before it gets cold.”

Toryn looked down at the basket in his hands.

Then back at the healer standing in sunlight.

His chest ached with something fierce and tender.

“I will,” he promised quietly.

Cass smiled one last time before turning toward the village road.

Toryn watched him go until golden hair disappeared beyond the trees.

Only then did he look down again at the basket in his hands.

Master Hallik appeared beside him with entirely too much amusement in his eyes.

“Well now,” the dwarf grunted. “Looks like someone’s trying to court you proper.”

Toryn’s tail nearly knocked over a barrel behind him.

“He is not.”

Hallik snorted loudly.

“Aye. And I’m an elf princess.”