Chapter Text
“Hey… we’re closing in ten minutes,” a voice calls from down the hallway.
“Okay, I’m almost done cataloguing these,” you say, crouched over a table.
The Smithsonian’s newest shipment of artifacts for a display on medieval China are scattered atop it, each with a small tag attached.
You look up from your work as you hear footsteps draw closer. Maggie pokes her head in the doorway.
“Still staring at those scrolls?” she asks, a teasing note in her voice. “I can find you a man who hasn’t been dead for 700 years,” she adds, grinning.
You look up and make a face. “Sure, but where am I going to find a man who understands me like this?” you ask, eyes drifting dreamily over the delicate watercolor drawing. You can see the sword, painstakingly detailed in his hands, and rich, dark eyes.
Maggie shakes her head. “You okay to lock up? I’ve got places to be, baby.”
“Sure,” you say absently, picking up the sword and turning it over in your hands.
You trace your fingertips over an etching on the blade, which you recognize as the character for moonlight, and look around. Everyone seems to have left for the night.
You tiptoe through the hallway and out onto the balcony, looking up at the bright moon overhead.
Holding up the blade, you catch the moon’s reflection on it, and gasp as the character is illuminated.
The movement makes the blade slip in your grasp, and it slices your finger.
“Ow,” you say, pulling the finger into your mouth and sucking on it. Your stomach drops, then, like you’ve just gone over the top of a roller coaster. The moonlight is blinding for a moment, as though someone shone a spotlight over your head, and you feel the ground shift beneath your feet.
When the flash dims, you’re standing on a desert plain, bright moonlight overhead, and sword in your hand.
You turn around in every direction, and see a small fire in the distance, glowing and throwing shadows up on an outcropping of rocks.
You gather up the hem of your long, green cotton dress and walk over to it, still stunned, but hoping desperately that someone around will be able to help you get your bearings.
“Excuse me,” you say, tiptoeing closer. “I was hoping you could—“
The man sitting by the fire stands up, picking up his blade.
“Who are you?” he demands, making you jump back.
It’s the man from the painting, captured perfectly in the scroll you held just minutes earlier. Your heart squeezes in your chest. He’s unmistakable.
Your eyes take in his armor, the sword in his hand, and his impossibly dark eyes in the moonlight.
“I.. I don’t…”
“Where did you get that?” he asks, pointing to the sword in your hand. “That’s.. that’s mine. Did you steal it when I slept?” He sizes you up angrily, and you drop the sword, collapsing to the ground.
You come to, a few minutes later, with the same man crouching over you.
Not a dream, then, you think to yourself.
“You’re not a very good assassin,” he says, sitting down. “How did you get here without a horse? Did you run away from your camp?”
You shake your head, sitting up and holding your face in your hands.
“Come now… if you are lost, I can help,” he says, placing a tentative hand on your shoulder.
“I’m.. yes, I’m lost,” you say. You feel hot tears welling up in your eyes. It’s impossible to comprehend that you’re here, but the man’s clothing and face leave no room for argument in your mind. The air even smells different here; crisp, clear, and free of the metal and asphalt that seems to fill your nostrils back home.
The man comes closer.
“Do not be afraid,” he says, taking your hand. “I do not know what misfortune befell you to bring you here, but a beautiful woman should not be so sad.”
You look up at him and laugh, sniffing back tears.
“You’re.. you’re not angry with me?”
The man tilts his head to the side.
“At some point, you’ll have to explain yourself, but you’re clearly in no state for that. Come, have some food and rest. I promise, no harm will come to you with me.”
He tucks away the swords and helps you up and over to the fire, where you realize some meat is roasting.
Ah. Probably best not to ask what it is.
“Thank you,” you say quietly as he hands you a portion and a cup filled with wine from his canteen. You take a sip and cough.
“Not the best, but it keeps me warm,” he says, grinning as you wipe your mouth.
“I am Pero Tovar,” he says. You introduce yourself, and he nods respectfully.
“You are.. a widow?”
“No… I’m not.”
“Oh. A nun, perhaps?”
You laugh. “Ah… no. Not that either.”
“I thought perhaps… nuns are known for being fastidious, and… you smell like orange blossoms,” he says. “Reminds me of home,” he adds, sipping his own wine.
“Spain?” you ask, chewing the meat and quickly washing it down.
“That’s.. yes, that’s right. How did you know?”
“Lucky guess,” you reply.
He looks at you thoughtfully. “So, not a nun or a widow, and you smell like sweet heaven. I’m afraid that leaves only one other likely possibility.” He pauses. “You are.. a courtesan?”
You choke a little on your wine.
“Definitely not,” you reply, shaking your head.
“Ah, well. You don’t really look the part.” His eyes trace your neckline, and you’re suddenly self-conscious of the way the dress draws his eyes to your chest. “Your skin is too smooth. Women like that… are rarely so unblemished. And the silver bird hanging from your neck… it is too delicate for that sort of woman.”
You finish your food and scoot a bit closer to the fire.
“I… I need to find out where I am,” you say.
“Ah. This is part of the Silk Road. I am returning from a long journey, going home to Spain. I was able to earn a great deal of black powder to sell, and I will use the money to buy the land for the vineyard I’ve always dreamed of having,” he says. He motions to a cart nearby. “If you are running from danger, I will not turn you over to those that hunt you,” he adds. “I have no need of riches. If you wish to travel with me, I would be happy to escort you and offer protection.”
You look at him, puzzled. “What’s in it for you?”
He bristles. “Something must be… in it for me? I do not follow this expression. You suggest I would ask something in return?”
You nod, then falter at his earnest look.
“I’m.. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to suggest you to be some kind of brute. I’m just not used to people being kind for no reason, where I’m from.”
“That sounds like a terrible place,” he says, and you laugh mirthlessly.
“Heh. You’re not wrong about that,” you say.
He stands up, fetching a pair of blankets from his cart.
“You should get some rest,” he says, unrolling one blanket onto the sand and placing another around your shoulders.
“Thank you. Won’t.. won’t you be cold?” you ask, wincing a little at the thought of him taking one of the blankets back.
He smiles down at you knowingly. “You need them more, little bird. You’ve been shivering since you finished eating.”
You feel your cheeks heat up. “Maybe.. we could share them? No sense in either of us being cold,” you say.
He hesitates for a moment. “If you are unmarried, perhaps you do not know what you suggest,” he says.
“I’m suggesting we keep each other warm. And for what it’s worth, I’m not a blushing virgin. Not that it’s any… any of your business,” you add tightly.
Tovar’s eyebrows shoot up. “I see. Then you know what you might feel, in the night, if you lay against me?”
Your mouth goes a little dry. “Yes.”
“And you don’t mind?”
“I.. don’t mind.” You feel a little dizzy.
He slips the outer layer of his armor off and settles behind you, his back to the wind. You’re just close enough to the fire to feel the embers warming you without making your face feel too hot.
Tovar slides an arm over your stomach and pulls you close, sealing the gap between your bodies.
“Is this all right, little bird?” he asks, lips almost brushing your ear. You can feel your heart racing, and you’re sure he can feel your whole body starting to hum.
“I think.. I might be in shock,” you say, turning to him and burying your face in his neck.
“Oh… it’s going to be all right,” he says, a little surprised, but gentle as you cling to him. He rubs your back.
“I do not know what horrors you escaped, but I promise you are safe,” he says.
You wake as the sun is rising to find yourself still curled up with Tovar, limbs entwined. His arm is cradling your shoulders and the other is wrapped around your back.
You swallow hard when you feel him, hard and hot against your inner thigh, which you apparently threw over him in your sleep.
You look up and realize his eyes are open.
“Um… how long have you been awake?” you ask.
He moves a little. “Since before dawn. You looked so peaceful, I didn’t want to wake you,” he replies.
You shift your leg and he bites back a groan.
“Apologies, little bird. You have found me in such a state… it has been quite some time since I have awakened with a woman in my arms.”
You shift your leg again — deliberately — and he gives you a look.
“I may have some self-control, but I am no monk,” he says, a hint of warning in his voice.
“Maybe I don’t want you to be,” you whisper.
He sucks in a breath and you feel his hand slide down, cupping your ass through the thin cotton of your dress.
You shift higher, gently touching his face.
“Who are you,” he whispers, almost reverently.
Instead of answering, you sink down into a kiss, tipping his head just right to fit your lips together. He makes a wounded sound in the back of his throat and you get brave, slipping your tongue into his mouth.
That seems to set him off, because the next thing you know, you’re rolled over and pinned under him, his hips fitted between your thighs. He starts rocking against your center and you throb with it, aching inside for him, when he breaks away, rolling off you and onto his back.
“Please, forgive me,” he says between labored breaths. “I got carried away.”
You smile, rolling onto your side to face him. “I think I wanted you to, a little bit,” you confess, hiding your face with one hand. “And I don’t think pleasure is something you should apologize for, if it’s freely shared,” you add, placing a hand on his chest.
He brings it to his lips, eyes locked on you. “I want to know you.. all of you. Mysterious little bird,” he whispers.
Easier said than done, you think to yourself. But… you have your own mystery to solve, too.