Chapter Text
The town is beautiful. The dragon statue rising from the fountain in the square looks mystical, the roads aren't as bad as Derek said they would be, and something about the small town made a small glimmer of hope well up inside of your chest. The buildings strewn throughout town felt familiar, reminding you of your hometown. They were built of the same stone from the mines of the same mountains, walls worn smooth, the sides of the stones and corners rounded and weathered by time. Yet in some ways they were different. The people here seem more relaxed as they go about their day. No one here knows your history, and you hope that the people are less judgmental than those in your hometown. There are actual community gathering spaces, like the bathhouse and the Inn. The clean air and gentle familiarity comfort you.
This time things will be different. No more arguing. No more people trying to pull you away from Derek. No more late-night check ins from your dad, saying he's worried about you, knowing he just worries too much. No more disapproving looks from your best friend when Derek gets frustrated or suddenly picks you up. No more feeling like you're living under a microscope. No more having to choose between Derek and everyone else.
You help pull the cart containing all of your belongings behind the two of you as you glance over to him. His blonde hair cut sharply at the top of his shoulders shines pale in the sun and his bright blue eyes that glance over to yours. They look filled with love, you think, ready to start this new adventure together.
"Come on, I know you can pull harder than that," he winks.
You roll your eyes, focusing back on pulling the small cart across the bridge to the farmland. There wasn't much inside, as you'd decided to get rid of a lot of your own stuff in order to make the move easier. Really it was Derek's idea, but you had agreed after he had done some convincing, and now that you were pulling most of the weight of the cart, you were thankful for that decision.
This is your new start. Your life on the other side of the capital is over and you can leave the problems you had behind. The control from your parents and best friends, trying to keep you away from Derek. The anger this pulled from inside him, and the way he tended to take out his frustrations out on you. He's just stressed from the move, but you really can't help the way it tears you down inside.
You finally pull the wagon over the dirt and rocks in front of the new house. You can't help but inspect it with a slight smile. The outside walls are made of grey stone and the little red door seems so cute in the midst of it all. And most of all, it's yours. You feel a tinge of pride warm inside your chest.
"Well, they could've said on the flyer that the house was a total piece of shit," you hear a voice from behind you say quietly, adding a sudden ice to the pride you just felt.
"It's not, Derek," you roll your eyes, wiping the sweat from your brow as you start grabbing things to carry inside. "It's perfect." your smile slowly warming back up as you walk up the steps and open the door to your new humble abode. "It just needs some work", you add as the door creaks loudly under your hand.
The inside feels cozy, the warmth of the fireplace hitting you immediately as you step inside, the cute twin bed in the corner and the small nightstand next to it, the dark green rug covering the worn wooden floors, and the table with only one chair sitting in the middle of the room. It feels like home already somehow.
You sit the box you're carrying on the floor in front of you, opening it with ease as you begin pulling out some decorations that you bought specifically for the move. You'd saved up your allowance from each week for a month or so until you could buy some small pieces to make the new house your own.
Derek follows behind you as you step inside, the permanent grimace still on his face as his eyes scan the main room. "Mmmm," he hums in disapproval as the floor beneath him creaks under his weight. He walks over to the fireplace, noting the cracks in the stone as he runs his fingers over them. "At least the inside matches the outside. Shit."
You can't help but let sadness envelope you once again. It was something you were quite used to, the feeling of being broken down at every step of your day. But he wasn't doing it on purpose, you knew. It's stress, and you all feel that way every once in a while.
The small smile returns once again as you find a small flask in the box, liquid still inside. You take a big swig, drinking for longer than you know you should at 3pm, but you can't help yourself. You need that nice warm feeling in your stomach, and the alcohol does that for you. You hold out the metal flask, the light from the fireplace shining against its smooth surface.
"To new beginnings," You say, the smile growing as he takes a swig a bit longer than yours. Your tolerance to alcohol is strong at this point, so strong that you take the flask and take another two more deep drinks from it as he turns to fiddle with the contents of another box, your face not changing as you feel the warm burn as it slides down your throat. Just a few more of those and you should be able to handle the night.
You begin putting up the things from your box as he carries a couple more boxes in, setting them next to yours. A lamp on the nightstand, a couple of photos in beautiful wooden frames on the fireplace ledge - one of you and him and one of you and your mom and dad when you were young, and a few paintings you had created yourself now hung on the walls.
You notice the way his brows furrowed, his lips forming a hard line as he watched you place the photos above the fire. "Since when did you have all this?" He gestures around himself vaguely as he pulls out his phone charging stand from a box of his own, sliding your lamp to the side to place it where he wanted it.
"I bought it before we moved," The soft smile on your face grows as you watch him place his things next to yours, making the home seem a little like it's both of yours.
He squinted his eyes at you, walking over and snatching the photo of you and your family from the mantle. He looked at it closely before speaking.
"You really want a picture of the man who betrayed you and tried kicking me out of my own house staring at you?" He rolled his eyes at the thought, tossing the photo carelessly, frame and all, into the trash can next to the nightstand. Your stomach drops as the glass shatters, but you force yourself to stay calm. You know it'll only make things worse if you don't.
"Derek!" You say incredulously, "I bought that frame!" You're on your knees now in front of the small trash can, picking the rest of the glass out of the frame. You don't see him roll his eyes and walk back to pull more decorations out of the boxes. Decorations that suit him more than they do you. "You don't need it anyway, we already have tons of things to decorate the place. And if you feel like you still just have to keep it, we can take a new photo of the two of us. We're a family now."
Walking over to your box, you look at the photo. Your eyes are bright and filled with childlike wonder, your smile pure and innocent. Your mom and dad looked so happy to be at the park with you, and you had nothing but joy plastered onto your face. You start to feel a tear well up in your eye, so you put it back into your box, packing the broken frame and photo away in a safer place as you blink away the emotions, knowing that it would upset him if he sees how dramatic you're being. You grab the flask again, making sure that he isn't paying attention, and down the rest of the dark liquid before placing the flask in the bottom of the box where he won't notice it's empty. You'll need that last bit when you meet everyone tonight at the Inn anyway. You feel a bubbling in your gut just thinking of the evening. Apparently every Friday night everyone in town meets at the Inn and socializes. Adeline and her brother insisted you two should join, despite how tired you knew you'd be from the move, and Derek had agreed excitedly, ready to mingle with the other townsfolk. You, on the other hand, have felt nothing but anxiety all day in anticipation of meeting everyone at once, trying to find a way to make yourself fit into their already formed groups of the night.
A few of the villagers come by to help carry the boxes inside.
"I really don't mind!" Ryis says, flashing a smile at you. You catch a glimpse of the eye roll and scowl from the corner of your eyes as you grab another, much lighter box and carry it inside with him.
When you come back outside, there's a man with bright red hair silently grabbing another box - no small talk, just efficient help. Something about his quiet competence feels... different. Intriguing. You find yourself watching him work, curious. He sets the box down more carefully than necessary, making sure nothing shifts inside. You note the way his red hair catches the afternoon light.
When Derek drops his box with a thud next to him, March glances over with a raised brow. "Subtle," he says dryly, reaching over to steady the box before anything inside can shift. "Real delicate touch you've got there."
Ryis, who's just returned from inside, suppresses a smile.
"Careful with that one," you say as Derek reaches for another box. "It has the-"
"I know what's in it," Derek cuts you off sharply, then catches himself and forces a smile. "I packed it, remember?"
But he didn't pack it. He hadn't really packed any of the boxes. March's expression doesn't change, but something flickers in his eyes as he watches the exchange.
"Actually, I think she's right," March says mildly, nodding at the box. His tone is conversational but there's an edge of challenge underneath. "That one's marked fragile. Unless you're planning to test how fragile."
Derek's jaw tightens, but he adjusts his grip. "Right. Thanks." The word comes out clipped.
March watches as Derek continues working, noting the way he moves - always positioning himself between you and the other helpers, always speaking for you when someone asks a question. When you reach for a heavier box, Derek intercepts.
"That's too heavy for you, babe" he says, taking it from your hands before you can protest. "Why don't you grab the lighter one?"
"I can manage - "
"I said to grab the lighter one." The smile doesn't reach his eyes.
March exchanges a glance with Ryis, who now looks uncomfortable. "Could've fooled me," March mutters, just loud enough to be heard as he hoists another box. "Looks capable enough."
You catch the comment and feel heat rise to your cheeks, though you're not sure if it's embarrassment or something else.
March sees you shrink slightly at Derek's tone, that automatic compliance of someone who's learned that disagreement costs more than it's worth. It's a small thing. Maybe nothing. But March has spent years reading metal for stress fractures, learning to spot the invisible cracks before they become breaks.
He sees the same thing here.
"Thank you," you say as March passes you with another load. He gives a brief nod. "No problem." His voice is quieter than you expected, rougher. Deeper. Then, with the hint of a smirk: "At least someone around here says thank you."
Derek appears beside you after March sets down another box. "We've got it from here, thanks." There's an edge to his voice.
March looks between you both, then shrugs. "Suit yourself. Was getting bored anyway." But he doesn't leave immediately - he takes a moment to make sure the boxes are stable, his movements deliberately unhurried despite Derek's obvious dismissal.
"If you need anything heavy moved," March says, his eyes landing on you rather than Derek, "the blacksmith shop is just west of the fountain. We specialize in things that require a delicate touch." The emphasis on the last words is slight but unmistakable.
His gaze lingers on you for a beat too long before he turns and heads back toward the bridge.
Derek's hand finds your waist as March walks away. "Look at that," he murmurs low in your ear, "already got the local yokels sniffing around." His grip tightens slightly. "Good thing I'm here to keep you safe from the small-town weirdos."
Heat floods your face as you watch March's muscular shoulders, hoping desperately that he's out of earshot.
After March leaves, Derek suggests getting supplies and some groceries for the night. At the general store, a warm woman with pink hair and kind eyes greets you immediately.
"You must be our new neighbors! I'm Adeline." She extends her hand with genuine enthusiasm. "Welcome to Mistria! How are you settling in?"
"It's lovely here," you say, and mean it. Something about her motherly energy makes you feel instantly at ease, despite the fact that she's clearly younger than you are.
Derek steps forward with his most charming smile - the one that made you fall for him all those years ago. "Derek," he says, taking her hand and holding it just a moment too long. "And aren't you a sight for sore eyes."
You feel heat creep up your neck as Adeline laughs politely, clearly used to harmless flirtation from customers. "Well, aren't you a charmer. You'll both love it here. Everyone's so excited to meet you at the Inn tonight."
"I'm especially looking forward to it now," Derek says with a wink. You busy yourself looking at items on the shelves, pretending not to notice how his attention has shifted completely away from you.
After another minute or so, you notice Adeline leave, Derek making his way back to your side with a satisfied grin. You've collected some food for a snack and everything you need for the night, but your jaw is tight as you make your way to the register.
"Really?" you mutter under your breath as you set items down.
"What?" Derek asks, all innocence.
"The way you were flirting with her. We just got here." He rolls his eyes, wrapping an arm around your waist.
"Oh come on, I was just being friendly. You're being dramatic." His voice has that patronizing edge. "She's cute, sure, but she's got nothing on you, babe."
The words should make you feel better, but they don't.
It's at this time that the man behind the counter finally turns toward you, a big friendly smile on his face. "Hello! You must be the new farmer couple Adeline was talking about!
You muster up a smile, despite how you're feeling.
"I'm Holt," he says, placing the items in a paper bag, "I own this store with my wife, Nora," he gestures toward a middle-aged woman with blond hair in the corner, stacking produce, "And our daughter Adeline. She lives right above the farm, actually, in a little cottage right across the bridge from you." He smiles, clearly proud of his daughter and her own home.
"That's great," you say, grabbing the bag. "Thank you so much." You try your best not to sound terse, but you want to make it clear you're in a bit of a hurry.
"Well, you folks have a great time unpacking, and if you need any help, just let one of the boys here in town know! Olric and March, especially. Those two are so strong after all the mining and smithing they do every day!"
"We really appreciate that," Derek says smoothly. "Everyone's been so welcoming."
Despite everything, you nod, a real smile forming on your lips for the first time since Derek's flirtation with Adeline. Your teeth even show as Holt sends you off with a warm smile of his own. Everyone here just seems so nice, you think to yourself, and even with the hurt that lingers in the back of your mind, you can't help but feel hopeful once again.
Later that afternoon, you and Derek return to the general store for something you'd forgotten. March happens to be there, picking up supplies for the forge.
"Oh, we need bread too," you say, reaching for a loaf.
"Not that one," Derek says, taking it from your hand and selecting a different one. "This kind is better. I've told you that."
"Right, sorry, I forgot-"
"You always forget." He's smiling, but there's an edge underneath. "Good thing I'm here to remember for you." he elbows you in the arm a little harder than necessary.
March is at the counter, pretending to examine some tool oil but watching in his peripheral vision. He watches the way Derek's hand finds the small of your back, steering you toward the dairy section. The way you seem to shrink into yourself, making yourself smaller.
"Do we need milk?" you ask.
"Do we?" Derek counters. "You tell me. You're the one who's supposed to keep track of what we need."
"I... I think so?"
"You think so, or you know so?" Derek's tone is light, almost playful, but there's something else there. "This is why I have to do all the planning. You can't even remember basic groceries."
March sets down the oil with slightly more force than necessary, the sound sharp in the quiet store. Both you and Derek glance over, but March's expression is carefully neutral as he picks up nails instead, examining them with exaggerated focus.
"Found what you need, March?" Adeline, a small blond woman with a braid in her hair, calls from behind the counter.
"Still looking," March says dryly. "Trying to decide if I need the three-inch or the four-inch. Big decision. Lots of planning required." The sarcasm is subtle but present, and you catch Adeline suppressing a smile.
March watches you apologize again, watches Derek's hand tighten just slightly on your back - not enough to hurt, really, but enough to control. Guiding. Correcting. Reminding you that he knows better.
It's none of his business. You're a couple, you have their dynamic. But something about it sits wrong in March's gut.
When you reach the counter, Derek pulls out the money. "I'll handle this," he says when you start to reach for your own purse. "You always mix up the change anyway."
"That'll be 147 tesserae," Adeline says, her usual warmth slightly dimmed.
March happens to be checking out at the same time, and as Derek counts out the money, March catches your eye for just a second. There's something assessing in his gaze, like he's trying to work out a complicated piece of metalwork.
"See you folks tonight at the Inn," March says as he heads for the door, his tone carefully neutral. But there's a weight to the words that suggests he'll be watching.
Adeline gives March a look as he leaves. After you and Derek exit, she'll mention to Hemlock later that something felt off about that couple. March will say the same thing to Olric, though he'll frame it as "just an observation" and "probably nothing."
But it stays with him as he walks back to the forge. Maybe he's reading too much into it. Maybe you just have that kind of relationship where one person takes charge.
But later, when March is working late at the forge, he thinks about his mother. The way she and his father worked together as equals, making decisions jointly, respecting each other's expertise. He thinks about the careful balance required in a partnership - how too much pressure in one spot can warp the whole structure.
He thinks about the way you apologized for things that didn't require apologies.
And he wonders.