Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first time she dreamt of him, it was in a city. Beautiful, was her first thought as she walked around the very edge of it, accompanied by a strange, and yet somehow very familiar figure. The streets were wide, paved with stone and marble, rather than tarmac and cement, spires of white marble rising high into the sky, glistening in the pale moonlight. It was a cold night, the greyish cloak wrapped around her shoulders attested to it, as did the breath misting in the air in front of her.

“Cold?” His voice was teasing.

She folded her arms with a huff, a sharp clink sounding as her vambraces met the metal of her chest plate. “Hardly,” she said, scowling as she peered out at the mountains surrounding them – protecting them from unwanted gazes and whatnot. “Why? Would you like my cloak to help keep those bony knees of yours from shaking?”

“I would be far more worried about your own,” he retorted, chuckling quietly as they continued on their patrol.

She kicked at his shin half-heartedly, her scowl only widening as he dodged the amateurish strike like the well-trained warrior he was. It was only to be expected though. He did have a good few hundred years of training on her, if not more. Still, she couldn’t deny the overwhelming urge to hit him, even just a light tap. She had never really been able to land a proper hit on him ever since her training had started so landing a hit on him would be an achievement she would cherish. “Stay still and let me hit you! I am not so feeble as to let the winds bring me down. It would take a balrog or two to have you rid of me.”

Pain flared between her eyebrows, his hand retreating before she could even attempt to retaliate for the little flick he’d delivered. “Do not talk about such things so idly. You have never even seen a balrog before. You know not their terror, little one.” He chuckled, bright eyes sad as he stared levelly at her. It was odd to see such an expression on his face – one which usually seemed so bright and joyful. “You would likely run a league if ever you saw one. They are not to be trifled with.”

“Pssh. If you could survive seeing them, I am sure I similarly could.”

He shook his head, that musical voice of his ringing out over the winds, a soft, wistful smile on his lips as he spoke. “Reckless idiot, that is what you are.”

“And proud of it,” she muttered, striding ahead, her silvery cloak flaring behind her. His was of much finer quality, the mantle white, embroidered with golden stitching in the pattern of celandine, the hem of which dragged across the paving behind him. Though that was only to be expected. He was a Lord of one of the Twelve Houses, and she was just another elf under his command as her parents were. The gap between them sometimes felt like the heavens and the earth. “Now let us hurry and get this patrol over with. The less time I have to spend in your company, the better.”

“Might I remind you I am the Lord of the House you and your family fall under?” Arms folded, mirroring her own pose, startling grey eyes staring down into her bluish ones. She had inherited the blue tint in the grey from her mother, along with the silver locks that sometimes seemed to glow in the moonlight. “A little respect would not go amiss, in fact it may even go as far as to aid you.”

“Not on your life,” she grumbled, silvery hair flying out behind her on the breeze that swept past them as they both continued on their patrol. “I would sooner admit my undying love for you.”

“Your undying love?” One golden brow rose in query, and she almost laughed aloud at the puzzled questioning look upon his face. She increased her pace, voice carried to him on the wind when she finally spoke.

“I will give you a hint – it is non-existent.”

He caught up to her widened strides in seconds, one of the many perks of being taller than her and having longer legs. “I will be telling your father all about this conversation,” he murmured, a mocking edge to his voice as per usual whenever he threatened her with her parents. They were rather terrifying still, even if she was no longer a little elfling, and no matter how regal her lord seemed he very much enjoyed reminding her of that.

“I am quaking in my boots here,” she muttered dryly.

“As you should.” A smirk graced his elegant lips, and she sorely wished she had the strength to land a hit on him so she could wipe it from his face. “But come, stubborn elleth, let us get this patrol over and done with so you can be rid of me until the sun rises—”

Beep! Beep! Beep!

A stubborn mechanical beeping sounded, slicing through the wonderful, if slightly weird, dream. Her peace and quiet was shattered, her hand coming around to slam down on the annoyance of an alarm. Anna groaned, silently longing for her cosy covers as she pushed the blankets back and stumbled blindly into the bathroom. The light nearly blinded her when she flicked it on, the bulb flashing for a few moments before the harsh brightness became constant. “Ugh,” she grunted, splashing water over her face. “Another day…”

Her usual morning routine was finished within the hour, the sounds of cars honking as she stepped out of her apartment, locking the door safely behind her. Her black hair fluttered on the breeze, dark brown eyes gazing out across the city. It was nothing like the one from her dreams, but then again, there hadn’t really been any cars in her strange dream… and that man beside her. She sighed dreamily. She was turning thirty soon, and she’d never had a single boyfriend or romantic date despite her best friend’s insistence, though she doubted anybody could match the beauty of the strange man from her dreams. Snorting, she shook her head, climbing behind the wheel of her car. There she went, setting unimaginable standards. It was no surprise she’d never dated anybody.

Yawning, she drove to her workplace – a set of offices, the building of which couldn’t compare to the spires from her dreams. She liked those spires. She loved that city. Her heart had been captured by it, the details burned into her memory. Honestly, she was oddly amazed her brain could come up with details like that.

“Morning, Anna!” Rochel came up behind her, slinging an arm around her shoulders as she dragged the pair of them towards the elevator which would take them up and out of the carpark. “How’s the cold?” she asked, showing her usual concern as best friends should. “All gone?”

“You’d better hope so,” she said, smiling gently as the doors pinged open and they stepped inside – out of the bitter cold of the underground carpark. “We’re not through the worst of winter just yet though.”

“Which means more colds to come,” Rochel muttered. “Ugh, why do you always have to get sick? I bet you in your last life you didn’t get sick at all and this is some sort of karmic retribution. Maybe that’s why you have ungodly luck… I mean, there has to be some sort of compromise.”

Anna flicked her smack right between the eyebrows. “Come on, slowpoke. Some of us need to earn a living, you know.”

“What the hell was that flick for?” she grumbled, rubbing at her sore head.

Anna paused. It wasn’t like she could say she did it because some guy in a dream did it to her. That would result in a weird look or two, and possibly Rochel offering to take over her shift so she could go home. Her best friend was an unfortunate worrywart. “I felt like it,” she said, smirking at her.

Work was annoyingly slow. Maybe that was why she fell asleep at her desk on her break and started dreaming of that city yet again.

He was an absolute slave driver – that same golden-haired warrior she’d met before. She stood in the middle of a training ground of sorts, her sword in her hands, fingers aching from the sheer force behind some of the blows. She really shouldn’t have irritated him last night. “Keep your guard up,” he ordered. “You are slipping.”

“I am trying not to,” she hissed through her gasps for air, arms aching ever so slightly as she parried and dodged all the blows she could, and yet there were still some that slipped through. There was nothing quite like having the full attention of one’s Lord, especially when sparring. He was a terrifying opponent. One she really wanted to beat. Or at least punch in his annoyingly perfect face just once, seeing as the other option wasn’t really all that feasible. “You are just too strong. My hands are becoming number with each blow.” Not to mention all the fancy footwork and improvisation she’d been forced to do with her poor small feet.

“And this is why you need to toughen yourself. You will not be standing up to any balrogs in your state,” he said, smiling down at her far too sweetly. Sometimes she really hated her slightly less than average height. Everything about her was seemingly lesser in some way. “But I do suppose you could be doing some endurance training while waiting for the feeling in your hands to come back.”

Silently cursing him, she put her sword back on the rack, knowing better than to volunteer for some other form of training. So she quietly walked to the edge of the training grounds where she began running around the edge, watching as her trainer went and beat up some of the other trainees. Not that she minded. It was nice not to be the sole recipient of his attention, especially when it came to training. He was one of their best warriors for a reason, and Lord of the House she and her fellow trainees resided in for a good reason. She was probably the youngest trainee too at just a few hundred years old. It was hardly a wonder nobody thought she’d be capable of much. And it explained why she was always forced to do more endurance training and the like compared to the rest of them who could seemingly train for hours upon end without breaking a sweat.

“Any of that feeling back in your hands yet?” that teasing voice asked, and she skidded to a stop, eyeing him as he called her out. “Or should you run a few more laps?”

“I am fine,” she grunted, grabbing her sword as she stepped back into the ring.

“If you are not well enough you can always call it a day there. The intensity will only grow from here on in if you wish to stay,” he said, staring down at her, the teasing glint fading from both his eyes and his voice. “You have already done well for an elleth of your age. Experience and endurance come with age, and you ought to know your limits.”

Her jaw set, and the ridiculous stubbornness she was becoming well known for made an appearance. “I am fine.”

Grey eyes narrowed, glittering almost dangerously. “Are you certain?”

“Bring it, Goldilocks,” she muttered, taking up her stance, ignoring the thrill which ran through her at the small approving smile he gave her. Just because she couldn’t say no to a challenge didn’t mean she was a reckless idiot. She was strong, especially for someone her age, and she’d prove it. She was tired of being the weakest one. She’d be finishing drills with the rest of the House of the Golden Flower in no time at all… rather than being sent back home a few hours before.

“As you wish.”

Ten minutes later, she regretted those words, her vision swimming as she struggled to block his blows, hands numb as she swayed on her feet. She hated him with a passion. Especially since he was the one who’d driven her to that state. This was totally going to be another lesson on learning her limits, she just knew it. That hadn’t been an approving smile he’d given her – it had been an I’m-about-to-beat-you-until-you-understand-your-idiocy smile. She panted, glaring as best she could past the ache in her limbs. Just a little longer… she just had to last a little longer…

The sword slipped from her grip, clattering to the ground with a loud clang. She could feel the eyes of the rest of the courtyard on her as she swayed dangerously on her feet, and her sparring partner pulled his own blade away just as quickly, empty hands reaching out to steady her as he stared down at her yet again. She felt ridiculously small all of a sudden, her vision tunnelling as she fell forwards, blinking slowly as her cheek found itself pressed against the metal of a chest plate. It wasn’t like she needed three guesses to work out exactly whose it was as she was hefted over a broad shoulder.

“And off to the Healer’s Ward we go… again…” he murmured, and she could feel him shaking his head. “Reckless idiot.”

A tired scowl marred her face as she hung there. She’d so totally have kicked him if she’d had the strength.

“Anna?”

She grumbled, eyes opening blearily, blinking as she realised her body didn’t feel like she’d been in a train wreck. She wiped at the sleepy dust, staring blearily at Rochel as she placed a boxed lunch down in front of her. “Hey, Roch,” she mumbled, yawning as she pried her face from the desk, stretching her arms up over her head. “What’s up?”

“You sure you’re OK?” Rochel stared down at her, bright blue eyes narrowed in concern. “You were sleeping like the dead, and you weren’t even snoring.”

“I don’t snore.”

“Need I remind you of that time I came over for a sleepover?” One brown eyebrow rose. “I got absolutely no sleep.”

“I. Don’t. Snore.”

Rochel chuckled. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Anna groaned, wincing ever so slightly at the slight ache in her temples. She was definitely going to have a headache later. “I’m fine, worrywart. Now sit down,” she ordered. “We have our lunch to eat.”

“You don’t want to go to the canteen?”

“Too noisy,” she muttered. “I like peace and quiet.”

“I take it you don’t want to go out for a pint later then?” Rochel asked, no doubt already knowing her answer. She only went out drinking on events, like birthdays or other celebrations. Her mother had often said she was introverted and shy – preferring the company of her close friends in a location she knew rather than the wilds of nightclubs and mosh pits. She stayed as far away from those as possible.

“We could have a girl’s night… it is the weekend starting tomorrow.”

“You’re talking weirdly,” Rochel said, cracking open her own lunch box. “But yes, definitely, to the girl’s night. I’ll invite Shannon and Mira. They should be able to make it on such short notice.”

“They just love crashing at my place,” Anna mumbled, smiling fondly as she remembered all the other times they’d wound up over at her place. “And ruining my nice wine glasses.”

“You have the comfiest sofas and actual glasses dedicated to wine.”

Anna shrugged. “I have good taste.”

Rochel chuckled. “Sure you do. What time do you want us over?” she asked, pulling out her phone, tapping her fingers on the screen at lightspeed, messaging the group chat they had set up for the four of them. “Is five OK for you?”

“That’s fine.”

“Good, good,” she said, tucking her phone away, message sent. “Now I think it’s time for you to eat your lunch and tell me all about that lovely dream you were having.”

Anna blinked. “How do you know it was lovely?”

“So it was. Good to know.” Rochel grinned. “I was just guessing because of how peaceful you looked for once.”

“Pssh. It’s none of your business.” Anna tucked into her lunch, glaring at her friend as they ate. “Make sure you bring snacks for tonight, OK? We’ll make it a movie night. Chocolate, popcorn, and the like.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

“I’m hardly your boss,” Anna said, glancing at the wall of work she still needed to complete before the weekend. “If I was, I’d be telling you to get back to work already.”

“Slave driver.”

Anna blinked, pain spiking through her head at the memory of the golden-haired man, a voice whispering on the breeze as it whistled through the office.

“Remember.”