“You know, Christiansen,” Caitlin said as she opened the door. “Perhaps you’re not as useless as I first thought-"

As she stepped in, something cut her off. Silencing Caitlin Faraday was no easy feat, but the horror inside was enough to render her mute, eyes wide and mouth agape.

“What?” Christiansen asked. “Is everything alright?”

“Buh...” She made an attempt at a coherent response. “I-juh...you.”

“Caitlin, what’s wrong?”

    Rage got the better of her; the teasing was simply too much. “You...you don’t have a shirt on! Why don’t you have a shirt on?” She struggled to keep the volume down, her eyes fixated on his bare stomach.

    Christiansen’s stupid face once again lit up like a comet. He dodged her gaze. “I-I'm sorry, Caitlin, I was getting out of my armor, and I thought-”

    Rather than allowing the dunce to continually fluster her, Caitlin slammed the door shut. Out of sight, the image of a shirtless Christiansen was still seared into her mind's eye. Obviously, knighthood involved a lot of physical activity, lifting heavy equipment and such, but the knowledge Chrsitiansen possessed a body like that was unsettling. The thought hadn’t even occurred to her that he might be so very lean and tight beneath the armor. She couldn’t stop thinking about his arms and the way his stomach angeled into a clean V-

Caitlin bit her bottom lip to prevent her making a frustrated gnash. There was no time to admire his physicality like some stupid, giggling girl with a crush. He just engineered a scheme to try and woo her, to undermine her resolve. Perhaps taking his clothes off worked on lesser women, but the Princess would have none of such foolishness.

    Still, she remained outside the room, arms crossed. Didn’t want to risk encountering further beguiling sorcery.

    A minute later, the door opened, and a fully clothed Christiansen stood before her.

    “I’m sorry, Caitlin. I promise I didn't  mean to make you uncomfortable, but in my defense, you didn’t knock-”

    Caitlin barged past him, forcing him back after their shoulders collided. Once her dominance was reasserted, she turned back, sticking an index finger in his face. “Try anything like that again, and I fill you with arrows.”

    She turned back to assess their domicile. The room was small, relative to those of the castle, but serviceable. There was a small fireplace giving off a pleasant warmth and a window giving a view of the valley beyond, the sun setting between two trees. Much like the rest of the O’Doerery home, it was snug and cozy.

    The feeling of contentment vanished as soon as she saw there was only one bed.

    “I didn’t try anything, and I’ll...what’s the problem now?” Jamie asked.

    “There’s only one bed. Will you next inquire as to the color of the sky, or can you circumnavigate that intellectual quagmire yourself?” Caitlin asked in kind.

“There’s more than enough space for two, although we can use my sword as a buttress if you want. I offer to sleep on the floor, if it really bothers you.”

It was difficult to tell if Christiansen was being sarcastic, so just in case, Caitlin gripped the lone pillow, slammed it down on her side, and greedily wrapped herself in the quilt, leaving none for him. Facing away from the knight, she said: “Don’t even think about coming over to my side.”

“How am I supposed to know what is or isn't your side?”

“You’ll figure it out.”

Jamie assumed it to be a eighty-twenty division in Caitlin’s favor, so he laid his body down as close to the edge as possible. It would’ve been nice to have at least a bit of the pillow and quilt, and there was a serious possibility the Princess might murder him at any moment, but tolerating hostile sleeping conditions was a skill learned early in his training.

“Hey.” A whisper he opted to ignore.

“Hey!” A finger tapping him several times on the shoulder followed. “I know you can hear me!”

Unable to ignore to Caitlin, he slowly turned over. “Yes?”

“It’s bloody freezing in here.”

He gave her a confused look “How is that possible? You took the entire quilt and there’s the fire, how can you be cold?”

“I don’t know,” She hit back. “That’s just the way things are.”

“What would you have me do?”

Caitlin looked as if she were about to have her teeth removed during the most horrible busking competition ever performed without the benefit of anesthetic. “I suppose it wouldn’t be so awful if we huddled up. For warmth. And absolutely nothing else.”

Jamie was certain he misheard. Did she want him to...?

“Y-you want to cuddle?”

She let out an annoyed grunt. “No, there will be no cuddling, I just think it would benefit both of us if we huddled up because it’s cold in here.”

He closed his eyes for just a moment, if only to make sure to make sure this wasn’t some nightmare or a hallucination. If it were, he’d open his eyes and Caitlin would be gone.

No, she was still there, looking increasingly frustrated.

“Okay,” Jamie said, his voice not nearly as steady as he hoped. “We can cu-huddle up for warmth.”

After unraveling herself from the quilt, Caitlin scooched over and brought herself closer to him, along with the pillow.

“We can share the pillow, if you like.”

Instead, Jamie’s body reflexively tensed as Caitlin rested her head near his shoulder, draping her arms over him. He had little time to be terrified as he felt a surge of freezing cold between his calves, causing him to let out a very unmanly yelp.

“What? What’s wrong?” Caitlin asked.

“Nothing,” Jamie said. “It’s just your...feet.”

“My feet?”

“They’re very cold. I’m sorry, it just surprised me.”

Instead of yet another derogatory comment about his being a total wimp, the Princess retracted her feet and gave him a half-smirk, like she was trying to spare him further humiliation.

“You can put them back.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

They returned to their positions. When their bodies were fully entangled, Caitlin let out a small burst of nervous laugh.

“Is everything okay?”hit

“Your hairy legs.”

Caitlin Faraday, warrior princess, was ticklish.

On the one hand, that was adorable, but there was a serious possibility he might accidentally tickle her again. Jamie felt awkward with his hands at his sides, but there was no way he was actually going to touch the Princess, right?

As difficult as she was to deal with at times, Jamie knew she wasn’t capable of that kind of cruelty. At least, he hoped that was the case. He carefully moved his arms out from under her and delicately placed them on her shoulder blades.

“What are you doing?”

Jamie’s heart came to a violent stop. “Huh?”

Caitlin rolled her eyes. “I give you permission to actually hold me, not what you’re doing now, whatever it is.”

Swallowing the apprehension in his throat, he did as commanded: with infinite care, he pulled her closer. It was an inappropriate thought, but Jamie couldn’t stop himself from noting how wonderful she felt pressed up against him. Having never so much as hugged a woman prior to today, he wasn’t sure what to expect, but Caitlin was soft and squishy. He could lie here for hours.

Another thing Jamie only noticed now was that Caitlin had a curiously earthy smell to her. Like fresh mountain air or lilacs. Something intoxicating, something Jamie wanted in his life. He could only silently pray she couldn’t feel his erratic heartbeat. In another context, this would’ve been an exciting development; the most beautiful woman ever to walk the planet being even more attractive should've been welcome knowledge, but the revelation only fueled his anxiety.

They lay there in silence for a minute before she broke it. “I get the feeling you’re very tense.”

Jamie almost swore out loud. “I’m sorry, Caitlin. It’s nothing you did, it’s just that I-” He paused. Have never done this before? Have had a massive crush on you for the past ten years? “I don’t mean to be so-”

“It’s okay,” She said, shifting herself to place her head near his shoulder. “I apologize if you feel I’ve been somewhat hostile, but you didn’t make it easy to trust you.”

“That’s understandable.”

“So, you’re agreeing with me?” Caitlin eyed him skeptically.

“On what?”

“That I’ve been hostile.”

Terror returned as quickly as it dissipated. “Uh, I didn’t say that. I didn’t say you were hostile.”

“But you didn’t disagree with me.”

Another silence followed, during which Jamie prepared himself for a violent death.

Instead, Caitlin snickered. “I’m only teasing, Christiansen. I promise I’m not looking for a reason to kill you.”

Too mortified to enjoy the relief, he shut his eyes and rested his head on the pillow.

Another minute passed before he dared to break new ground. “If you don’t mind my asking, Princess,” Jamie said. “Did you change your hair?”

“Yes,” She said with an adorably sleep voice. “You’re very observant.”

He smiled. “May I ask why?”

Caitlin inhaled deeply. “It’s more difficult to grab if it’s short and the darker color helps me blend in at night. I never really liked long hair, I kept it mostly to appease my mother.”

Chopped short to her cheeks and black as raven’s feathers was the superior option when it came to combating the forces of evil, but Jamie was having trouble deciding whether he preferred the current look or her previous styling; the long, flowing, golden-brown one that came down to her shoulders. Both made her look angelic, and she would doubtless look wondrous in any styling. Jamie thought she could be in a full set of chain-mail armor covered in blood and still look fantastic. Telling her she’d look good in armor might earn him a stern look, as it could conceivably be taken as a compliment to her skill as a fighter, but telling a warrior princess she was cute would definitely earn him a dagger to the heart.

“You don’t need my permission to say something,” Caitlin said, clearly on her way to the land of dreams. “And you don’t need to refer to me as Princess.”

“Oh,” Jamie said. “Okay.”

Several minutes of silence passed before he vocalized a curious thought. “I think you look beautiful either way, but I suppose I prefer-”

    A chill worthy of the Old Guardsmen of Winter’s Calling overtook Jamie’s body when he realized what he had just said. His heart ceased to function in preparation for its being carved to pieces.

            “I-I’m sorry, Caitlin,” He pleaded for mercy. “I don’t know why I said that. I mean, not to say you don’t look angeli-uh you could wear your hair any way you want, and my opinion doesn't matter at all, I was just suggesting that you-uh, that you.” When no retaliation arrived, beyond the gentle rhythm of her breathing and the movement of her chest. Jamie closed his eyes, grateful his companion slept through the confession.

Several minutes later, once she was certain he was asleep, Caitlin looked up at him, smiling.



When Caitlin awoke the following morning, she immediately felt something was very, very wrong.

She was warm.

As much grief as her parents gave her, Caitlin was grateful for inheriting a number of positive traits from the king and queen; incredible athleticism, an unflinching will and belief in justice, a brilliant sense of humor, but one thing she cursed was her vulnerability to the cold. Thick pajamas was the bare minimum for a quality night’s rest in mild climates, and she was certain the chill of winter would prove fatal if she wasn’t bundled in the wearable equivalent of Lilith’s wardrobe.

Last night’s fire helped, but being snuggled against Christiansen was heavenly. He generated a frankly ridiculous amount of body heat. Likely because of how big and muscular he was under all that armor. Being pressed up against his broad chest, her feet between his calves and his hands gently resting on her back was so cozy. Wrapped up in his muscular arms made her feel...content. Protected from the cold.

Not that she needed any sort of protection, especially from Christiansen, but having someone to help combat her greatest enemy was comforting.

She was taking a risk, but Caitlin couldn’t help herself from gazing up at him. Even compared to the legion of dukes and princes she encountered throughout the years, he was handsome. In an innocent, boyish sort of way, but extremely handsome nevertheless. Combine dancing blue eyes, a charmingly messy head of hair, a chin like a slab of granite, and a body resembling a statue depicting some mythical hero, she felt comfortable concluding there was a hoard of females willing to fight each other to the death for a chance with him.

Based on his behavior last night, though, he’d be too afraid to give the winner a kiss on the cheek. The way he held and touched her like she was a glass statue, like the slightest misstep would break her, she wondered if he so much as hugged a woman prior to today. Guys like Christiansen were usually egomaniacs with how women slobbered over them, so Caitlin was surprised by his almost timid behavior. There was also Mairead’s comment about his chronic shyness around the opposite sex. How could she have misjudged him so profoundly?

Regardless, she moved herself up so her head was rested beneath his shoulder to allow her arms to wrap around his neck, snuggling against him and basking in the delight of his warmth. Perhaps when the journey was over, Christiansen might prove useful as her personal heater. Give him food, shelter, clothing, and free reign to do as he pleases during the day, then at night he could assume his duties as Caitlin’s heat generating pillow-blanket. The teasing from Lilith and Mother would be painful, but if that’s what had to be paid to endure the Winter and Fall months? A worthy price, especially with just how warm Christiansen was keeping her at present. Something told her there was nothing outside of bed besides an icy chill. Abandoning this toasty cocoon they made for each other would earn her nothing more than a meeting with the cold. The Christiansen-less cold. Moving towards the Imanese Mountain meant the temperature would only drop from this point forward, so Caitlin had to soak up as much warmth as possible. Was wanting a quick cat nap so unreasonable, especially with how cold it might get without her servant?

Speaking of which, Caitlin couldn’t stop laughing to herself about how she shocked him with her cold feet. There weren’t many scenarios where she could conceive it’d be prudent to neutralize him with her bare feet instead of a sharp object, but Caitlin felt it was always helpful to know an opponent's weaknesses. A sly smile tugged at her lips at the idea of a big, brave knight like Christiansen being brought down so easily. She almost found him...endearing. Cute.

    “Oh, Creator,” Caitlin thought to herself. “I’m starting to sound like Lilith.” Not a day ago, she was on a single-minded journey to prove herself as a warrior worthy of the Faraday name, and now she was in bed, prattling on about the hunky and handsome Christiansen. She needed to get out of this bed, out of this house, before her thoughts betrayed her. On the reasonable chance the knight was a heavy sleeper, Caitlin slipped out of his arms and off the bed, finding her her boots and bow in the corner.

    “Clothes,” She said. “Need my clothes.” She couldn’t exactly conquer evil in boots and a nightgown. Comfy as it was, her hood provided far more protection, which the O’Doerery’s, bless their hearts, were washing. Getting out unnoticed was simple enough, but changing back into her combat gear without alerting her hosts was far more difficult. She carefully opened the door.

    Only to find their clothes, washed and neatly folded, in a basket outside their room. She quickly changed, scooped up her bow, and took a final look at Christiansen. There was something curious sitting in the base of her stomach, a nagging little doubt that prevented her from dashing down the stairs. Perhaps it had something to do with the O’Doererys, but there was also felt a pang of guilt about abandoning him without a word. He’d never agree to let her go alone, especially with her borrowing his horse, but she wondered if she might miss the idiot, if only for his capacity to distract her enemies.

    Caitlin let out a small sigh before returning to the hallway. There was no sound coming from the house beyond the sounds of nature beyond, meaning their hosts were likely asleep, so she carefully crept down the stairs so as to not disrupt the equilibrium. As she gripped the doorknob to the exit, she was paused by the aroma of freshly cooked food. Delicious as it smelled, it also made her stomach rumbled, an unpleasant reminder that the last time she had a proper meal was yesterday morning at the castle. An empty stomach was a detriment to her focus and ability to fight, and a hearty breakfast never went amiss in her eyes, but her years of training were for nothing if she allowed something like that to slow her down. She opened the door to the forest beyond, only to find herself standing before the O’Doererys.

    “Princess!” Mairead said. “What’re you doin’ up early like ah’ chicken on a sunny morning?”

    “Uh, I don’t know,” Caitlin said. “I don’t know. What are you two doing up so early?”

    “Gettin’ our steps in,” Callum said. “Me hips and back are real bad, so I like to make a couple laps around the farm every day, and the misses likes to join me.”

    “Princess, were you tryin’ to leave?” She asked. “Without anythin’ to eat?”

    Her husband looked appalled by the notion. “Going somewhere without breakfast? Nonsense! We cooked up a whole buncha’ good stuff for you and Jamie.”

    “That’s okay, really, you don’t have to-

    “You don’t gotta’ be so modest all the time, Princess!” Mairead interrupted her. “Any friend ah’ Jamie’s a friend of us, and what kinda hosts would we be if we let you go hungry?”

    Too enraged to argue, Caitlin stepped back to allow the two to come inside. How could she have been so stupid, so inattentive? If this were an attempt to escape an enemy encampment, she’d be dead right now. Thankfully, the O’Doererys offered a meal instead of a quick death, but the point remained. And how could she leave now? She already humiliated herself, and leaving after they cooked for her would only make things more painful.

    “Caitlin?”

    It was a murmur, low and drowsy. Seeing as the world wanted to see her brought low, a big, stupid bear somehow lumbered out of bed and once again managed to sneak up on her. She turned to find Christiasen, the big, stupid bear, standing on the stairs. He looked sleepy and a little disheveled, but still, somehow, dashingly handsome.

    “Were you trying to leave without me?” He asked.

    “No, that’s stupid; Malcot doesn’t like strangers.”

    “Is everything okay?”

    “I’m fine.” Caitlin growled, almost bursting through an adjacent door to try and locate the enticing smell of breakfast. She would’ve dashed off a cliff onto a bed of flaming, rusty nails covered in salt if it meant getting away from Christiansen’s teasing, but her mood was significantly improved when she found the O’Doererys had made a small buffet, with plates full of toast, eggs, sausages, potato waffles and pancakes littering the table. There was little in the way of ornate plates or cutlery, and the table was small enough it was close to overflowing, but that was a welcome relief, in a strange way. It was a small, far less elaborate meal relative to what was common in the castle, but Caitlin’s mouth was already watering with anticipation, and the two must’ve been up for hours preparing everything.

    “You don’t eat before the guest of honor eats, yah’ bloody schalwack!” Mairead snapped at her husband, who was presently digging through a pile of hash browns. “It’s royal tradition!”

    “She’sa schweet’ gurl, she won’t care none if I-” Callum waved to Caitlin. “Caitlin! C’mon in! You tew’ better start eatin’, or I’m gonna finish everything!” He said with a hearty chuckle and a mouth full of hash browns.

    As directed, she took a seat across from Mairead, eager to dig in but unwilling to forget years of training in manners. They probably wouldn’t mind if she did, but-

“Starting without me?” Christiansen commented as he took the seat next to her.

“That bloodeh’ mountain could topple,” Callum said with a mouthful of pancakes and pointed at the knight with a fork. “And this one wouldn’t miss ah’ blinka’ sleep. Unless there was food cookin’.” The joke was enough to elicit a small burst of laughter from Mr. O’Doerery and a roll of the eyes from his wife.

“As long as you aren’t cooking, I’ll come running every time.” Christiansen with a sly smirk.

“Princess, whadya need? I’ll make you a plate, and daya’ want some water? Wine? Rose soda? Lemon drink?” Mairead stood up, offering her a free plate.

“Oh, don’t worry, Mrs. O’Doerery, I’ll make it myself.” Caitlin attempted to take it, but she snatched it away with unusually swift reflexes.

“Ah-ah, no workin’ fer you, Miss Faraday. You’re a guest, and we dew’ everything for our guests.”

“Do we get guests?” Callum asked.

She shot him a glare, but Christiansen quickly intervened. “I’ll do it, Caitlin, what do you need?”

   Once again, he soured her mood with just a few words. The O’Doererys offering to serve her was innocuous, as they were simply being gracious, caring hosts, but something about Christiansen making the same offer was irritating. Did he think she was some pampered brat incapable assembling a meal?

Still, she didn’t want to disrespect him, especially in front of his family’s friends. “Thank you, Sir Christiansen. A smattering of everything will do.”

Her servant did as commanded and set the plate before her. Hunger overtaking her senses, Caitlin gave him an offhand ‘thanks’ and sat to eat. After cleaning off half in plate in remarkable time, her peripheral vision caught sight of Christiansen tearing through his food with ravenous abandon, only pausing to take a sip of his drink. It was enough to make her stop eating and watch. When he met her gaze, he too paused, a light dusting of red painting his cheeks. “What?” He asked nervously.

    She gave him an amused smile. “Nothing.”