i'm ready to suffer the sea and i you. she says this so easily, but with such soft conviction. something in his chest clenches to hear it — something in that old, dusty engine finally able to run again. he... is not sure how to navigate this, the yawning gap between them. borne from his utter failure and mistake before she had went missing and the fragile condition she finds herself in on her return. yet still they circle each other, firmly in each others orbits, but this feels right. there is hope in his chest, a quiet ember burning there. it feels right. it feels natural, and good, and — and i you, calypso says. as if it is that easy. and maybe it could be. maybe it should be. doesn't she deserve that? if not with him, then at least... in general. she deserves moments like this — she deserves anything that pulls that glassy look from her eyes, that makes her know this is real. she curls a little closer and he plants his feet, holding strong and true — letting her take whatever comfort she can from him. as she begins speaking he lets his muzzle brush forward, something close to a kiss pressed to the corner of her ear. a small thing, gentle and without expectation. his own tips forward as she speaks, listening to her words and hearing the quiet meaning hidden in her tones. and he — he almost smiles to hear it. it is nothing worth smiling over, but it makes so much sense. he did not have to go into the mist to hear such things, but it seems it was a shared sentiment. of course the other would be better off with someone else. of course their lives would be easier and kinder and all of that bullshit. but -- it's too late for them, isn't it? whatever this thing was ( love ) had gotten its claws in them, nice and deep and would not let go. you won't have to be, he says and means it as a promise. he wants it to be one. not until you get tired of me. one corner of his mouth rises up even if she cannot see it, a wry simper that speaks to some truth. very few have ever wanted him -- fewer still did not get sick of him after a time. he suspects she'll follow suit but until then, he'll hold her as close as he can.

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it is easy, once she has surrendered to it. once she has leaned in to his touch it is easy to fall in to old habits, to push boundaries and take whatever it was she wanted. little touches and kisses and gestures of affection.

but this time there is no wall to break down. this time she can stow her hammer away and cross the invisible line, growing more comfortable in the certainty that he wanted this too.

even if she can remember his silence in the wake of her first confession -- even if after months she remembers how he had left -- calypso does not hold it against him. this ride they have been on has been anything but easy, and even she grappled with understanding the overwhelming emotions that she felt for him.

its the little things that fight back the demons, the small touches and smiles and the kiss he presses to her forehead.

"you won't have to be" he promises, and yet she knows it's not entirely true. calyspo was not the only one that loved hakon, and becuase of that she knew that any future with him would be shared.

it bothered her but she kept that truth tucked away, instead giving him a soft smile and a gentle bump of her head beneath his chin. "i will not. fer as long as de tides touch de shore, i shall want ye." this is the truth she gives him instead of dwelling on what could not be.

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i'm ready to suffer the sea it feels... almost too easy. were they not in the grotto, hakon might doubt even himself. because only a dream would allow the pieces to fall so easily together. only in a dream would he feel this warm and content. but, no. they are at the grotto — a place he's only been once, and his imagination is not creative enough to fill in the gaps. he could not picture the lazily blinking lights of the fireflies, nor could he imagine the gentle rumble of the waterfalls, strangely hushed in this place. it is perfect, and so is she. his promise is made with conviction and little else. a smarter man than he might hold his tongue and worry for the future, because surely this perfect night would not last. never once he does he forget about saga — not even here. he is not a greedy man ( aren't you, though? ), but clearly he is happy to blunder along in his obliviousness. one day that bubble will pop and hakon will have a whole new set of problems to grapple with. this thing, whatever it is, that spans the three of them will crash and burn before he's even aware of it. but here, pressed close to @Calypso, it is easy enough to imagine a future where everyone gets what they want. and — besides. he means his promise, he does. korsa hans hjärta och hoppas att dö.. hakon skagos may be many things, but he is not a liar. calypso answers him with a promise of her own, and he takes it and tucks it away carefully. happy to keep it safe in his pocket, horde it like a dragon with its gold. he makes a little hmm noise, pitching it low so it rumbles in his chest, ears tipping down as his muzzle tilts too. i don't know, he says, trying to catch her eye — the corner of his mouth lilting up. that sounds like an awfully long time, forever, he means; forever, he hopes. are you sure you won't tire of me before then? and there is, despite everything, a shadow of doubt lurking in his question — no matter how his lips curve into a simper. he does not ask it, does not press the matter. if you feed the wolf he will keep coming back to your door. instead, hakon huffs a laugh, as if it does not matter, and leans into her.

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look how happy they are without you.

even here, even now, the voice lingers. even as they whisper promises and tuck them away like a precious treasure, she can hear the words. they are distant and faint, partially drowned out by his own murmured reassurances, but they are there.

would they ever leave? would she ever be able to hear his words without doubting them?

calypso remembers, clear as day, the love on his face when he had looked at his newborn cubs. the way that fatherhood had softened him -- the way that saga had looked at him. it was not something she was supposed to see but she had, and now she was left with that memory lurking, always.

"never," she promises again, ignoring her own demons in favour of the ones she can hear in his question, "i will never."

reaching, always, for him, with gentle touches and reassurances. "i do not do t'ings halfway, hakon. i love ye, fully, and d'at will not change."

they are so much better without you

bit by bit she begins to build her own wall, then. starting the foundation to block the voices from this moment, to not allow them the ability to ruin what she has only just begun to experience. calypso has waited a long time for this moment, and so she fights to keep the doubts at bay, ignoring the whispers that lurk in the corners of her mind.

instead she nestles even closer, opening her eyes to watch the blink-blink of fireflies as she leans heavily upon him. "it's like magic," she muses, and perhaps it will confuse him if he does not see where she is looking. perhaps he will think that she is speaking of this tender thing between them, and maybe --

-- she is.

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i'm ready to suffer the sea if only he knew that here, too, he is a step behind. she has memories she shouldn’t, and they are ones he cannot argue with. he cannot stop the voices she hears or the cruel words that purr into her ears — he cannot make this better, simply because he does not know. a shame, then, that it seems to be a common thread throughout his life — but here, in this grotto with her, he has nothing but hope for the future they speak of. fragile though it may be. her promise comes nearly unbidden — his ears tipping forward to hear it. and if his cheeks flush beneath their fur, well. it wasn’t like the grotto was especially well-lit, so maybe it would escape her notice. still, he keeps her words close to him and his heart — a promise he’ll hold dear, especially when that wall she begins to build begins to crumble. because one day they will. but here, emboldened by the change of scenery and the way the fireflies fill the air, he presses forward. leans into her touch to better hold her — an anchor for her to lean against, support whenever she needs it. i — love you too. he says, small and simple, the words stumbling from his throat with terrible inexperience. they were words he’s never said to anyone, though he’s implied them many times. i hope you know that. he murmurs, soft still — a whisper upon the wind. easy to get lost into the distant roar of the waterfall if she does not want to answer or does not want to hear, but something in his chest howls — and quiets only when they’re said. he does not have much use for words like this and they sound especially clunky in the common tongue, but he means it — and hopefully, she knows.

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without knowing it, hakon has given her a sanctuary. a place of peace and quiet, tucked away from the ocean shore. seperate from the memories (both good and bad) and far removed from the horrors she had lived through.

here in the quiet of the grotto she can feel the healing behind with each brick she places, locking away the words and pretending (for a moment) that there are no cracks for them to break through. there are, of course, and she would be a fool to think that this serenity would be permanent, but she soaks up the peace for as long as she can. slow and steady breaths, consuming his touch as if she were half-starved.

the words come in a tumble. a rushed confession, awkward and stumbling and... perfect.

even now, in the midst of her healing, her breath catches. even now as she is only rebuilding she feels the air suck from her lungs and she barely resists the urge to squee like a damn child. instead she releases her breath, slowly, pulling her head back to look up at him. for a moment she only looks, ocean-storm eyes roving across the lines of his face, hovering on the scars that mark him as a warrior.

then she smiles, tiny and knowing and just as fitting as his stumbly confession. "i know." because she did, didn't she? she had known for a while, now; possibly before he himself had known. it was why she had worked so hard at dismantaling the wall he had built -- how ironic that now she works just as hard at building her own.

but as for love?

"it's nice to hear it, though," she murmured with a crinkle of her eyes, lowering her head to his chest again and rubbing affectionately in to the crook of his neck with a quiet purr of contentment.

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i'm ready to suffer the sea he says these words and more and she does nothing except look at him. seafoam eyes slide to meet hers, features open and showing nothing but hesitance. he wants to incline his chin up in a challenge -- a quiet dare for her to doubt the things he says. it does not come, though; instead, there is only hesitance upon his features today. in the dim light of the grotto it could even, almost, be mistaken for fear, for doubt. and isn't it a little of that, too? he does not think he's ever been this open with anyone else before. never quite so torn apart and laid bare. she does nothing except accept him though, pressing closer with a smile even as she breathes out a quiet i know. such a thing would normally annoy him ( especially considering seemingly everyone seemed to see the thing brewing between them before he ever even did ), but today it only serves to settle him. of course she knows. how could she not? in reply, he brushes his muzzle against her forehead, leaving a small and chaste kiss in his wake. come on then, he murmurs, nudging her with a shoulder as he gets up and tries to untangle himself from her. there was more to the grotto to see -- he hadn't brought her all the way here ( and braved all the grass & pollen on the way! ) for them not to explore all the darkened little corners. he sticks to close to her though, sides brushing against hers as they go. exit

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