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homeless202 · 11 months

Note

I’m new here and I absolutely love your type of blogs with analysis and meta and long texts~~

I was wondering—is Eunyung and Haejoon’s relationship the kind that could be interpreted as romantic?

first of all, welcome and ty! and sorry it took me so long to reply, i hope u're still around anon. now to answer ur question

i'll take this opportunity to share all my thoughts on the topic bc i have Many.

TLDR: it is possible to read it as romantic if you really want to, but it's not meant to (at least not as of right now in the story aka ch.224)

deep dive under the cut as to why

-> can Eunyung and Haejoon’s relationship be interpreted as romantic?

i like how you phrased that bc, the thing is, interpretation is very subjective. you're welcome and allowed to interpret things however you want, but in EY&HJ's case, i feel like you'd have to work a lil extra hard to get to that point.

-> is Eunyung and Haejoon’s relationship meant to be interpreted as romantic?

this one's easy bc no. objectively Not. the genre of No Home is drama and slice of life (and once upon a time, horror). even if they were to ever end up in a romantic relationship, that's not what the story is about.

when i ask myself what the author's intention is with this story, i'd say it's to (realistically) portray how a young person with trauma would navigate another young person's trauma. and showing how easy it is to unintentionally fuck it up for various reasons: lacking context as to what exactly said trauma is, generally not knowing how to navigate it, their own trauma getting in the way, lacking the necessary resources. take your pick.

think of it like "how should i carry someone else's baggage when i have my own to deal with?" while also keeping in mind they're kids; they often don't have enough experience to know how to help, and even when they know what the right thing to do is, they're not old enough to take (legal) action.

and especially, the most heart-breaking yet realistic thing, when you're just getting to know someone, you can't know everything about them. it's so easy to accidentally do or say sth that cuts or offends when it wasn't meant to. but when they've got their own issues, it's hard not to take it personally (eg. EY talking about HJ's parents without knowing his mom died not long ago in the beginning of the story).

-> what even is Eunyung and Haejoon’s relationship??

this one's so funny bc i have no idea how to answer and i'm convinced not even EY and HJ themselves would know how to answer. they're not really friends; they got off on the wrong foot and kept walking with two left feet way too much to call themselves friends. the things that pushed them together the most were the dorms (not anymore) and the same friend group (more or less since EY has multiple).

what fits them best i'd say is "the universe forced us together against our will and now we're stuck with one another altho we hate each other" (<- at least in the beginning) extended with the "misery loves company" sentiment. finding comfort in someone who gets it, even tho they only kinda get it but not really but it works out anyway except it doesn't <- THERE'S NO NAME FOR THAT *cry* they invented a new type of character dynamic smh (i've never read a pairing with so much (romantic) potential only to see them completely fuck up their chance so royally by the end of their interaction EVERY SINGLE TIME. like yeah, enemies to lovers whatever BUT NOT TO THAT LEVEL HOLY SHIT)

they've changed each other, sometimes for the better and sometimes for the worse. they're compatible in the way they understand each other on a deeper level and incompatible in the way they don't.

...however...

this is how HJ thinks of EY: (and also what No Home is truly abt)

and this is how EY feels about HJ after EY found out HJ used to steal as well (aka that HJ isn't perfect like the stuck up bitch EY thought he was at first):

so...

<- -> EY's first impression of HJ was that he was looking down on him and sth like "does this guy have ulterior motives? or is he just that naive being so trusting?" until EY found out HJ wasn't that different from him. after that, EY started admiring HJ for still managing to achieve things in life despite the hardships he had to go through. the type of admiration that can easily (and sometimes does) slip into envy.

since the beginning, EY has helped HJ (or at least tried to) without him knowing. sometimes it worked out, sometimes not. most times EY tried doing sth nice for HJ was (from EY's perspective) in return to HJ trying to help him or doing nice things for him (which, again, sometimes worked out, sometimes not). EY was just paying back a debt to "this stubborn naive guy who keeps getting into trouble and butting into his business. gotta look out for this idiot or he might get scammed." (<- eg. when EY offered to get HJ's money back from his uncle)

he doesn't do it for credit or friendship or out of obligation, he's just doing what he thinks is the right thing bc he doesn't want to owe anyone anything. he can't accept people just genuinely being kind, genuinely caring and genuinely wanting to help. but he's been learning and slowly coming to terms with it.

<- -> HJ first wanted to try befriending EY despite not liking him bc, well, the guy did steal his wallet and stab him in their first interaction. after trying and failing at it multiple times, thanksgiving happened, and HJ started thinking of EY as his underclassman bc he realized EY's just a kid with issues and he should keep an eye on him (discretely bc EY hates pity).

with time HJ has come to understand EY better by going after him whenever he ran off and slowly realized that EY does mean well and has his reasons (as fucked up as they might be sometimes). but his mentality abt EY is still "i gotta push him in the right direction cuz he's my underclassman and i unintentionally got attached to him (somehow??)" (also bc he knows EY already gave up on himself so he needs a lil help to find his way again. also also bc he knows EY is lowkey suicidal and he's scared it'll be his fault if sth happens) <- his care for EY comes from a protective/nurturing (/possibly maybe guilty) place which started when he realized EY was just a kid^^. in other words, HJ still bothers with EY out of a subconscious sense of responsibility/obligation in a way (a good way tho. or at least a way that gets better)

see, sth i struggle with is if HJ thinks he has to or wants to or thinks he should or can't just not help/care for EY. i can't exactly pinpoint where the sentiment is coming from. his face is too blank for me to read sometimes T_T

to summarize: HJ is EY's goal, what EY wishes he could've been. and EY is HJ's 'responsibility' so to speak (bc 'burden' doesn't quite fit since HJ is there for EY willingly) -> EY has a positive opinion of HJ while HJ has a neutral opinion of EY (which is also gradually getting better)

note1: i think HJ's intention (maybe subconsciously) was to be to EY what HJ's upperclassman was to him. aka someone who's there when you need it and can help guide you. it would explain why HJ kept chasing after EY despite not really having a reason to and EY repeatedly rejecting HJ's care/help.

note2: i also believe the 'upper-under-classman' relationship dynamic fits them the best atm bc it also matches the way the story often singles EY out as he's the only second year (aka younger) of the 6 MCs.

-> Romance in No Home?

another thing i should mention is that No Home rarely leaves things open for interpretation. the deepest arguments EY&HJ had were always spelled out for us, to make us understand exactly what the problem was, and how there isn't a good guy and a bad guy. it's just two people with issuesTM.

from what we've seen in the story up to this point, i couldn't pick out a moment where i'd go "here! that's romantic! that's the moment they realized SomeThing!" yk

when it comes to romance specifically, i feel like a handful of opportunities were missed. there are scenes which could've easily been written trough a rosy lens but simply weren't.

exhibit A:

HJ was speechless bc "wow this mf really is actively picking a fight with an authority figure. i gotta make sure things don't escalate" not bc "hoLY sHiT hE's PreTTy. all his fangirls are on to something". however, this only becomes more clear when you keep reading the next few chapters, so i understand how you could interpret it as the latter.

exhibit B:

here they got so close and the moment was so deep bc "woaa he said he believes me. no one's said to me that before!". unfortunately, EY was panicking too much for it to mean something bc of the guilt he felt for HJ trusting someone so undeserving of trust like EY.

exhibit C:

this is maybe the closest we got to romantic between these two. i think this might be the only (or at least first) ever deep interaction between them that didn't end in a fight or misunderstanding. is it meant to be romantic tho? -> ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

-> what do i think?

first, full transparency: i went into reading this story fully expecting it to be a BL and for EY&HJ to end up together. but the more i kept on reading, the more i got the ick thinking about them being in a (romantic) relationship bc, at least from what we've seen so far in the story, their relationship would be so ToxicTM (which i personally don't enjoy reading).

as they are right now, i wouldn't want them to be together like that. like, honestly, you still can't really consider these two even friends; they just tolerate each other if the stars align correctly (altho, i'll admit, their relationship is gradually getting better!!). every big argument they had i thought "god, there's no coming back from that. i'd cut ties so quickly if was them wtf". i still don't know how they managed to keep on interacting, props to them ig.

there's a lot of unresolved issues between them. and a lot of resentment which would not bode well in a romantic relationship. the smallest argument would turn explosive and they'd be, at best, in an on&off type of relationship. they both have the power to break the other and neither would be afraid to use it. they have a lot of history together, which is not always pleasant, so if they ever were to go the romantic route, it would have to be a long way to go.

technically, i could see them in a romantic relationship if they both went to therapy first and talked out all the baggage they're carrying (both individual and shared). realistically tho, what i think will happen at the end of No Home is that either they never cross paths again after high school ends (which would absolutely break my heart Wanan pls don't), or they somehow (unintentionally) end up living together bc they both desperately needed a roommate to pay rent (which would be a hilarious fucking gag LMAO). just, HJ going to uni/work and EY doing his own thing (prolly an actor) while still cohabiting together; hanging out to watch a movie before bed <- (whether platonic or romantic being left up for interpretation)

<- -> in conclusion, from what we've seen up to this point, their relationship is mainly upper-under-classman; reluctant (maybe) friends who tolerate each other but also care (too) deeply. they've changed each other, sometimes for the better and sometimes for the worse. in some ways they're compatible and in others they're not.

all this being said, their relationship is improving and romance between EY&HJ is not impossible, just rather unlikely imo. but, again, interpretation is subjective and u're welcome to read their relationship however you want.

#ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE IF YOU ARE DELULU ENOUGH!! THAT'S HOW SHIPPING WORKS IN GENERAL. IN EVERY FANDOM.#anon. this shit fried my head. it 3.30am and my brain is not braining anymore. i love analyzing these two but goddamn is it HARD.#THERE'S SO MUCH NUANCE TO EVERY INTERACTION THEY HAVE *cry*#life's been hectic and this question demanded i sit down in 7 different sittings to get everything written down. hence why it took me a bit #i tried to write down all my thoughts and i don't think i managed. but i hope what i have here makes sense.#and i also hope i actually answered ur question. i feel like i got side-tracked and possibly missed the target.#no home #no home manhwa #eunyung baek #haejoon goh #ey hj parallels #meta #집이 없어 #webtoon #god u guys have no idea how many times while reading i was like 'omg they're gonna kiss omg pls do'#only to keep reading and going like 'hoLY FUCK PLS DO *NOT*!! get away from him omfg!!'#the whiplash was fucking unreal. i remember honest to god SOBBING at 4am every time they fought <- that first time read was rough #also! if you agree/disagree/want to correct me or just talk about the topic i'm open to discussion/criticism. (just pls be nice abt it ><)#my ask box is open <3

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vaya-writes · 2 years

Text

The Wyvern's Bride - Part 3.3

When Adalyn gets sacrificed to the local wyvern, she’s a little annoyed and a lot terrified. Upon meeting the wyvern, she discovers that he’s not particularly interested in eating people, and mostly wants to be left alone. In a plot to save himself from the responsibilities his family keep pushing on him, Slate names Adalyn as his human Envoy, and tasks her with finding him a wife.

4800 words. Cis female human x Cis male wyvern (slow burn, arranged marriage, eventual smut). firefly-graphics did the divider.

Masterlist - Previous

Get excited. A large portion of this is Slate's POV. And by the Gods please don't let me edit this a third time. I'm done. If I left any filler words or random parts bolded for later fixing, no I didn't.

Slate is gone when Adalyn wakes. She’s sensing a pattern and wonders how he manages to wake and leave before she does, despite her baker instincts to be up before sunrise.

Not in any rush, Adalyn fortifies herself with a cup of tea out on the balcony, snacking on some old biscuits. She cooks jam on toast over the fire, frowning at the mess cluttering the hearth. She takes a moment to straighten the equipment and jars – she's keen to get cooking, but with Slate’s explicit permission to organise his belongings, part of her is tempted to spend the morning rearranging.

Still, they’d purchased a week’s worth of groceries yesterday, and she plans to experiment. After she’s fed and dressed, she heads down to the kitchen, lighting the room once she arrives. They’d visited Northpoint, the main trade hub of the valley, and Adalyn had managed to procure some sugar. Slate had smiled at her excitement at seeing the ware, and purchased the merchant’s whole stock.

She spends half the morning baking, experimenting with recipes that exist only as scraps in her family journal, or as fragments in her memory. The shortcrust biscuits are a little sweet and the pastries don’t keep the shape she wants, but the sweet rolls turn out beautifully, and she makes note of the recipe she’d used.

When the dining area begins to lighten, Adalyn starts to prepare lunch. She packs a basket, and is off towards the main-way, excited to showcase her food for the day.

Slate is working on the same passage as last time, and she waits expectantly by the stream bank as he washes off and joins her on the blanket she’d laid out.

“Potato and leek pottage. Bread of the day. Wine,” she gestures to each in turn.

He smiles. “You’re an absolute blessing, Adalyn.”

She blushes and stares at her food. “There’s like three breads of the day, but this one turned out best.”

Slate lets out an appreciative groan when tears into the loaf and raises it to his nose. “I believe you.”

They eat in silence for a few minutes, before Adalyn tries to start a conversation.

“What are you working on today?”

Slate grins at the inquiry. “I’ve pretty much dug to the right spot. Now it’s time to start hollowing out a living space.”

“What do you do with all the stone?”

He shrugs. “I set it aside. Most of it is good for sculpting. I can use it for furnishing, or steps, or block facades. Though some of it is as good as slag by the time I’m through.”

Adalyn nods contemplatively. Realises that they’re sitting in a makeshift limestone quarry. She’s musing about the other uses of the stone, wondering if there’s any further use, or if Slate would sell the material when he interrupts.

“Have you given any thought to what you’ll call your wing?”

She starts from her thoughts. Raises a brow. “Can’t I just call it my wing? My chambers. My tower?”

“You can. But where’s the fun? It’ll be big enough to be its own fort, at least.”

A pang of unease goes through Adalyn. If she were self-reliant in her quarters, wouldn’t that mean less reason to visit Slate and the Tower?

She shrugs, pushing the feeling down. “From the valley they look like they’re in a row. Sometimes we number them. The Tower is fifth...”

Slate hits his knee with a fist, excited. “I like the way you think. That’d make your mountain the fourth?”

“Yes.”

“We could call it Fourth Spire? Fothspire? Fourth Peak?”

Adalyn busies herself with her food. Watching the enthusiasm in Slate’s demeanour stings, just a little. “Fourth Spire is fitting.”

There’s a silence while they eat. Slate shoots Adalyn some careful stares, sensing something amiss. “What are your plans for the day?”

Adalyn glances to the sky. The sun is high overhead, stretching into the afternoon. “Dunno. Maybe I’ll clean your desk.” She means it as a joke, but considers with some seriousness.

Slate purses his lips. “If it makes you happy, dearest.”

She takes pity on him and huffs a laugh. Some of her tension seeps away. “Did you have a system you’d like me to adhere to?”

He pouts down at his food. “Not presently.”

“And the books you’ve left out. They’re quite numerous...”

He fidgets. “I might be referencing some of them.”

“Even the ones left on the floor?”

“Well, maybe not those.”

Adalyn teases him with a smile. “I also meant to inquire about your book-marking system.”

He meets her eyes, despairing. “... What book-marking system?”

“The one where you leave books open or close them on a variety of... strange things. Feathers. Receipts. Fabrics. Unidentified plant matter.”

He shifts. “Well, you know dog earring is terrible for parchment.”

“So is staining the pages with potion ingredients, dearest.” She pushes back with the new endearment.

He covers his silence by scraping the bottom of his bowl.

Adalyn relents. “If they’re not an elaborate bookmarking system I’ll just remove them then? At least from the books not currently in use?”

He relaxes a bit. “I should be grateful for your care, Adalyn. I admit the treatment of my hoard is not always delicate.”

She permits another soft smile. “Would that I knew how to care for your belongings. I’ve never cleaned armour or weapons, and I fear to touch half of your possessions for worry of mistreating them.”

He stretches. Gives her a sheepish look. “I’ll show you then. If you’ll remain patient. I’m not fond of cleaning but you’ve my permission to wrest the best methods out of me.”

She raises her brows. Considers the chance to spend more time with her husband, under the guise of learning and cleaning.

Weary at her interest, Slate stands and dances back. “Later, though. You’ll not have me that easily.”

She scowls at him. “Tease.”

---

By sunset Adalyn has cleared the walkways significantly. She doesn’t know how so many tomes found their way onto the floor when they’d tidied less than a week prior. Slate exudes a special kind of chaos. Despite his list and his priorities, it seems the wyvern can’t help but start other projects on a whim, falling victim to tangents and rabbit holes much too easily.

She doesn’t even know what half his side projects pertain to. Just that their shopping trip in the valley had resulted in them visiting all three major settlements and stopping to speak with every experienced tradesperson they crossed.

He’d been so enthused by the time they got home – evening, despite their morning start – that he’d raced off to work on something that night and had completely missed dinner.

He’d eaten at least – the food was gone when she woke this morning. Along with her husband. And with Slate dismissing her at lunch – albeit playfully – and now running late for dinner again, Adalyn feels the itch of rejection chafing at her once more.

She knows it was foolish to assume that it’d be a perfect transition. That things between them would stay simple and easy. They've been married... five days now. Complications are to be expected.

But she still wonders if Slate even notices her disconnect. If he feels as estranged as she does. She doesn’t know if he’s rushing the construction of her quarters because he wants her gone, or if he’s being dutiful and kind, or if he’s just hyper-fixating on his next big project. She doesn’t know, because he hasn’t given her any indication. Hasn’t spoken to her about anything serious. Has barely spent any alone time with her.

She finishes her dinner and covers Slates before standing to pace, restless. She scours the room for something else to do before flopping into the desk chair and scowling at Slate’s desk. Blueprints and plans are scattered around.

Part of her feels small and dumb. Because each night after dinner, if he remembers to attend, Slate spends hours poring over these papers, drafting out his plans and thumbing through his reference books. Small and dumb because of the jealousy she feels towards some parchment. She wants to resent the paperwork. Envies the attention Slate gives it.

But she relaxes incrementally and lets out a sigh. She doesn’t hate his work. Listening to him talk about engineering and different types of construction, watching him get so animated; she feels guilty for being so angry over something that obviously brings him so much joy.

And it’s not as if Slate had promised her romance.

He’d married out of self-interest. To discourage his family. An act of pettiness, or rebellion, she’d thought when he’d first revealed the plan.

It only hurts because she likes him.

Her fingers brush the scale that she keeps in her pocket. She grits her teeth at the acknowledgement. Then pushes the thought away. Her feelings for the wyvern aren’t something she wants to contemplate yet, even as she skirts around the truth of them.

Adalyn lets out a sigh and chides herself. There’s no point dwelling on it. Especially if she refuses to act. And tonight, she doesn’t feel like doing either.

---

The following morning, Slate stirs from his spot on the chaise as the room, barely perceptibly, begins to lighten. He groans, stretches, and nearly falls onto the floor. His cheeks darken, despite the lack of audience to his mishap.

Slipping back into autonomy, Slate makes his way to the partitioned wash area and fills the basin with fresh water. He splashes his face and dresses for the day. The sun’s not up yet, but rays of red light – probably imperceptible to the human eye – are filtering into the room. Enough to let Slate know it’s time for him to start the day.

He makes himself coffee. Adalyn had tried the bitter drink once and nearly spat it out, to his great amusement. He supposes that it’s an acquired taste, and as remote as they are, it’s not like any of the locals would have the chance to get used to it.

He scarfs down a handful of Adalyn’s biscuits, puts another log on the fire, and lingers by the bed. He adjusts the blankets on his wife before leaving in a rush, not allowing himself to stare for too long.

It’s a bad habit.

He shouldn’t have started it. Shouldn’t keep indulging it. If she knew how he fussed, how often he touches her without permission... He hates to think of what she’d do if she found out he’d been pushing the boundaries like that. Especially with how touch sensitive humans supposedly are.

Slate flies to the main entrance before shifting into his demi form and going on foot to Fourth Spire. The ground floor is gradually opening up, and he’s paying close attention to the central column.

It’s thick, acting as both a support within the tower, and a centralised route up and down the floors once he hollows it out into a large spiral staircase. He hopes Adalyn likes it. Still, part of his mind ticks away at the design, wondering if there’s anything he can add, anything he can do to make carrying things up and down the Spire any easier for his human wife.

Ready to begin, he lets shadows gather at his fingertips. Feels the weight of keratin form into large claws. In his demi form his muscles are already prepared for the weight the transformation brings. More scales appear across his forearms, the dense patches protecting him from any loose debris that might go airborne.

Then he begins carving.

Taking breaks only to sip at a skin of water, he loses himself in the sounds of the earth and the rhythm of his work, pausing occasionally to check that the angles and measurements aren’t out of order. It has to be perfect. Sure, it’s only the first shaping of the stairs. He’d go over it with his chisels once the basic shape had been found. But he moves carefully, not willing to make any mistakes with Adalyn’s quarters.

She’d been... withdrawn last night. Pale and wan once she’d fallen asleep. There’d been a strange undercurrent in the air when he’d landed on the balcony and found her reading in the back corner.

Seeing his covered dinner plate had shamed him. Once more he’d been late for dinner. Once more he’d promised himself he’d do better. He’d check the sky. He’d stop work early. But deep beneath the surface it’s hard to keep track of the time. Even if his eyes can cut through the dark with perfect clarity, he has no way of knowing what time it is. Especially as he gets lost in his work. (Especially as he can’t find anyone to fix that blasted timepiece).

There’s the crunch of footsteps and he pauses in his work. Turns to regard Adalyn, waiting by the entrance with a torch.

Controlling his delight, Slate wipes his hands on his pants and banishes his claws, trying to appear somewhat collected. Somewhat normal. Human. Palatable, he thinks.

He gives her a polite smile. “What brings you today?”

Her brief lunch visits are perhaps the only time she seems open. Relaxed. He looks forward to their little appointments, even if half the time he doesn’t know what to say or how to act.

She crinkles her nose as she looks around the space. For a moment his heart skips a beat. Is something wrong with it?

“I don’t know how you breathe through all this dust. If a human worked in these conditions they’d probably get black lung.”

Relief floods him at the comment. Then embarrassment. Ancestors, he cares too much about her opinion.

“Black lung is caused by scarring to the lung tissue. Most dracanoids are resistant to minor scarring and damages.”

“Resistant,” Adalyn corrects, “but not immune.”

Her concern is sweet enough, endearing enough, that his smile softens. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Her ears turn pink, and she turns away. “Did you want some lunch?”

He follows her out into the mainway, sheds his footwear, and steps into the stream. The water is icy and he grits his teeth before dunking himself and rubbing the grey dust away.

Curiously, Adalyn doesn’t watch, instead unpacking their blanket and lunch with careful movements, barely sparing him a glance. It’s his second clue that something is up, as most afternoons she can’t keep her eyes off of him, much to his pleasure.

Dripping, but clean, Slate joins her at the makeshift picnic, sitting cross legged across from her. He eats the food with gusto, hoping the sounds and motions can convey what he struggles to do so with words. When Adalyn produces a flask of coffee, still hot, he almost swoons.

“A female after my own heart,” he mutters, sipping at the brew. He misses the way she stills at his words. “So what are your plans for the day?”

She shrugs before drinking from her own flask of tea. “I was just going to explore. Maybe experiment in the kitchen later. Do something different for dinner.”

Something in his chest warms. “I’ll look forward to trying it.”

She huffs. “Don’t be so enthused. I could end up poisoning us if I go too wild.”

“I’m not worried.”

Adalyn is silent for a moment, a strange expression flitting across her face. When she speaks next, her words still roll with the same cadence and volume, but Slate can’t help but feel that there’s something missing in her tone; some of the warmth behind her eyes has waned.

“Is there anything I can eat that you can’t?”

Grateful for the change in topic, Slate takes a moment to consider. “Not really. I think some red dragons can’t eat ice. But otherwise, we’re pretty good at digesting things, even if they’re not particularly nutritious.”

“What do you like to eat?”

Slate bites back a smile. He enjoys Adalyn’s curiosity. Her willingness to learn, and to hear him talk about the things she likes. She never makes it seem like he’s being boring. Even if there’s the occasional moment when he wonders if her mind is elsewhere, or she’s veiling some display of emotion.

“I like all kinds of foods. One of the benefits of living so long and so richly is that I can travel around and try different things. I adore coffee. Though that might be because it’s mildly addictive. I like fish when it’s simple and game when it’s extravagant. I’m not very experienced at cooking many of these things, but I like different spice blends from Shad and the different grains they cook with. I like fruit and berry pastries. Cocoa from the Isles. I prefer my eggs cooked through, and I like the texture of toast when it’s a bit too crispy. But mostly I like variety. Being surprised by my food, or changing things up occasionally.”

He reigns it in when Adalyn stares. There’s an indecipherable look on her face once more, and he pauses, suddenly self-conscious.

“I’m not boring you, am I?”

Her look softens. “I asked.”

Slate drops his eyes. Suddenly overcome with the urge to reach out and touch her, to cup her face, to lean in and taste her breath; he schools his features into neutrality before pulling out another practiced smile. She’s just being friendly. Polite.

“Lunch was wonderful. Thank you, Adalyn.”

She smiles back, soft, but with that shadow of emotion from earlier, the one he can’t quite place.

It’s enough that he finally frowns. Reaches out and touches her hand. “Is something wrong?”

She hesitates, and he waits, giving her the time she needs to find her words. She seems to be thinking hard, conflicted. Eventually she lifts her eyes to his. Bites on her lip.

“It’s silly.”

“I won’t laugh.”

She looks away again. “Will you... show me how to take apart and clean your armour tomorrow?”

He tries not to frown. He has to wonder if she’d changed her mind about what she was going to say. Why look so torn over such a simple request?

“Of course. Is that all?”

She struggles to meet his gaze again. Shrugs. “Yes. I just... I like spending time with you.”

Something in his chest warms. His face too.

“I like spending time with you too, dearest.”

She rolls her eyes at the endearment, but the tension is barely diffused. She still looks uncomfortable.

He’s not sure what to say to make it better. Instead waits, hoping that she’ll break the silence.

After a while, she does. “I’m just- worried.”

He tilts his head.

She shrugs again, trying to downplay the moment. “When you finish the Spire and I move out, what if I don’t get to spend any more time with you?”

He blinks. The thought hadn’t even occurred to him. At least, not as something to worry about. He’d been toiling away in the keep, eager to gift Adalyn with her own space and not considering how she might feel about it. Does she want her own quarters? Will she like living by herself? He hadn’t even thought to ask.

Looking at her now, vulnerable, hardly able to meet his eye, the previous warmth in his chest dissipates, and fractures. He’d messed up.

He flounders for the right words to fix his mistake. To reassure Adalyn, and make that doleful expression go away.

“I- uh. Of course you’ll spend time with me. You have a knack for tracking me down. And I really enjoy our lunches together.”

Her expression barely changes. She just nods, and looks away, before making to stand.

Slate winces and grabs her hand. Stands with her. Blurts the first thought to pop into his head. “I could build a bridge? One from the tower to your Spire? That way you can visit me whenever, and won’t even have to walk the whole keep.”

Her face is blank for a moment. Then he watches as she goes through the effort tilting up the edges of her lips. Summons a spark to her eyes. “Sounds difficult.”

He agrees. “A secret tunnel would probably be easier.”

The smile twitches. “Probably more romantic too.”

He blinks again. Latches onto that train of thought with clawed hands. “Do you like romance?”

She looks away. “I don’t know. I haven’t really tried it.”

There’s a precipice in front of him. A vulnerability he’d yet to show Adalyn. Yet to show anyone really. And while he hesitates to step over it, looking at the cracks in his wife’s composure, and their linked hands, his decision to speak is easily made.

“Neither have I.”

She turns to regard him, face still mostly blank. “You... haven’t?”

“Nope.”

He watches her weigh her words. Shift her weight. Consider the implications.

“I see.”

Adalyn no longer looks quite so melancholy, and it’s a balm on his nerves. But now that the desperate grab for reassurances and comforts is done, he shifts uncomfortably. The silence grates on him, and he wonders what next he should say.

Adalyn saves him the trouble when she floors him with her next question.

“Would you like to?

Slate blinks. Looks sharply at the woman only to find her staring at her feet again, arms wrapped around herself.

“Uh,” his heart is beating too hard, “I hadn’t considered it.” There’s another tense silence. “Would you?”

Despite asking the first question, Adalyn still has the gall to look surprised. She meets his stare, eyes wide for a moment, before looking away. She packs the picnic blanket. Puts their dishes away, slowly, while she deliberates on her answer.

Finally when she stands, she holds her basket in hand, almost as if she’s ready to flee at a moment’s notice. She makes herself meet Slate’s eyes. Composes her expression into one of neutrality again.

“Yes. I think I would.”

His mind blanks.

He doesn’t have it in him to consider the implication of her words while she still stands before him. To consider the surge of... something... in his chest. To get a grip on his emotions and form a coherent response.

But she stands there, waiting for him to reply.

In his panic, he settles on an abrupt change in topic. “Tomorrow then, I’ll show you the armour.” He smiles. Starts backing away, before giving a little wave and turning. His steps back towards the Spire aren’t measured. He practically flees the scene, head reeling.

When he’s out of sight he pauses to lean against the wall and lets himself just marinate in the mix of adrenaline and surprise.

He can hear her still, lingering in the main-way. After a moment he listens to her footsteps fade into the distance, and he lets himself breathe again.

Adalyn wants romance.

Even thinking the words surprises him. Makes him haunted and hopeful. She might be open to advances. She might want somebody else. She might have been speaking on an entirely hypothetical level. And because he ran like a coward he’ll never know, unless he can muster up the nerve to pry further.

Slate abandons the central column and starts working on one of the outer walls. They still need to be taken out, and there’s not many mistakes he can make while doing that. He resummons his claws, still in a daze, and resumes his work, though not grounded in the slightest.

With enough monotony of motion he’s able to push the emotions down and focus on his work. Thought’s still swirl but he’s able to get lost in it, until he is sore and stiff and thirsty. He goes to take a drink and finds his skin empty. He lets out a long breath as the echoes of his labour fade away. It has probably been a while, and he resolves to take a break. To head to the main-way and refill his skin.

When he makes it to the cavern, he catches sight of the sky and curses. The moon is high, and he bemoans how late it must be. Time just keeps getting away from him.

He shifts and takes flight, making a direct beeline to the Tower. He lands on the balcony, trading his wings for his human form.

He’d missed dinner again. Not only that, but Adalyn is already in bed, and her breath indicates that she’s sleeping deeply.

Damn it.

Grinding his teeth at his latest mistake, he fills the bathtub and sheds his clothes. When he’s no longer the colour of chalk or tasting grit in his mouth he dries and dresses, and empties the tub.

Spying dinner on the table, he’s hit with a slew of emotions. Gratitude and adoration. Guilt and sadness. He needs to fix his timepiece. Or pull his head out of his ass and start making time for his wife. If he doesn’t, the next few decades are going to be incredibly stilted, and it would probably be his fault.

Walking past his desk, he pauses when he sees Adalyn’s binder sitting open, a handful of papers poking out. He’s sure she didn’t have nearly as many when she first moved in and unpacked. Curious, he examines one. It almost looks like a blueprint. It’s a birds-eye-view of a room. Or perhaps not a room, judging by the lack of walls or doors. Those are... garden beds. Pots. Plant names. Has Adalyn been planning a garden?

Unable to dampen his curiosity, he slides the other sheets into view. There’re recipes, to do lists, shopping lists, more blueprints. He skims the to do list, written in Adalyn’s tidy print: garden supplies, write Rin, meet with G&G, see jeweller. On the other side is another list, self explanatory: 20x small pots, 10x large pots, 5x crates soil, old garden cuttings, 1x load fertiliser, spade, watering can, water barrel... The list trails off, instead devolving into loose sketches of a rudimentary irrigation system. Slate is impressed.

He puzzles over the next page. Adalyn had drafted a blueprint – two blueprints, of similar design. It’s not up to industry standard, but it’s legible. Slate doesn’t know what to make of the design. Apparently half of the building is to be hewn from the mountain, and a protruding half to be built from wood? He decides to ask about it later.

He sits down for dinner, considering her plans and altering his own. Glass. Wardrobe. Rail. Timepiece. Pots. Soil. Fertilizer. His list is growing. The trip he’s been putting off is starting to look more and more needed, and Slate sighs, wondering if he should just get it over with. It could certainly be a pleasant surprise for Adalyn.

When he finishes cleaning up for the night he hesitates at the foot of the bed. He should just go and lay down on the chaise. Sleep off the fatigue that is starting to cloud his mind.

Instead, he finds himself laying down beside Adalyn and watching her for a moment. He almost immediately wishes he hadn’t as he sinks into the mattress and muffles a sigh. It’d be the only perk, giving Adalyn her own quarters. He’d missed sleeping in the bed.

It seems kind of dumb to him. That humans reserve sex for the bedroom. It makes him self-conscious whenever he enters the space. Is he bothering Adalyn by being here? Is he pushing her boundaries too much? It’s not like she’d say much if he did. Fuck, she’d even offered to share the bed with him, that first night. He’d declined, if only to make sure she wasn’t rushing into things. And she hadn’t asked him back since.

Adalyn rolls. Her back slots against Slate’s chest. Her head rests on his arm. Slate freezes. Scarcely breathing, he waits for her to wake. To jerk away. To do something. Anything.

She doesn’t wake. As the minutes tick by, Slate relaxes fractionally. Lulled by her warmth and lured by her gentle breathing into lowering his guard, Slate lets his eyes close. Inhales deeply.

Just a few more minutes. Then he’d leave. He’d go and sleep on the chaise. Would stop smelling her hair like a depraved pervert. Would pull away from her touch.

Just a few more minutes.

---

“Dearest Adalyn

I need to pick up some supplies from Cheywyn. Unfortunately, I won’t return until tomorrow morning, if things go according to schedule. I’m saddened that I’ll be missing our midday meal, but look forward to returning to you.

Fondest regards

Slate”

She’d woken from a pleasant dream this morning. Warmth against her back, and a hand entwined in her hair. Slate’s absence was not unusual. She’d stoked the fire, started breakfast, and had sat at the table, relaxed and looking forward to the day. Then she’d seen the note.

Adalyn sips her tea on the balcony, eyes trained on the horizon. The letter is clenched in her fist.

#the wyvern's bride #vaya writes #monster romance #wyverns #dragons #tetaro #exophilia #my writing #oh my god this was so long because i wanted to put his pov in this chapter #fuckkkkkkk #fun fact the pov is largely unchanged from the draft #but i had to rework much of the prior conversations and interactions #please validate me #this writing is top notch and the best thing you'll ever read and im so incredible i already know yuo'll love it but also tell me #so i can hear it #pls

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