Work Text:
Kurt closes the gate, being sure the latch catches and the lock engages before he turns away, still chuckling under his breath at the two cousins when he steps back out onto the terrace. Heading down the paved incline, he steps under the covered arch that connects to the lower palace gate, rounding the corner below, and heading east towards the upper boroughs.
Though it had taken some convincing, Kurt had finally managed to talk Rose into letting him move her into a better rooming house, away from the lower boroughs and the criminal element that tends to hang about. With her somewhere safer, in an area of the city that is regularly patrolled and watched, he worries less when he’s not there. And she worries less when he comes to visit.
He can certainly afford it now that he is making an elite palace guard’s wage, with the bonus of his earnings from training, he even manages to set aside a decent savings. Not enough to make him rich or retire early, but enough to retire comfortably one day.
As he passes by an elderly woman with a cart full of flowers, he carefully picks out a handful of blooms, pressing twice the asking price for them into her outstretched hand as he takes a piece of twine, tying it around the bunch, like a proper bouquet.
Rose loves flowers. Fitting considering her name. These are all wildflowers picked in the fields outside the city walls, simple and unassuming like she is.
Turning his key in the lock, he steps inside the building, the landlord giving him a wide smile as he passes by. Paying months in advance will earn you that kind of favor, even with people like him. Those who earn off the backs of others without ever doing any work for themselves.
Kurt climbs the stairs, tucking the bouquet behind his back as he knocks on the first door. He listens for all three locks before the door opens to Rose’s smiling face, freckles dotting her nose which has already picked up on the flowers he hides behind his back as soon as she pulls him into a warm hug.
“Kurt, you shouldn’t waste your money on flowers for me…” she says, taking them from his hand, pulling the ones he brought her last time out of a ceramic vase and replacing them with the new ones, refilling it with water from a nearby pitcher.
“Who else am I going to buy them for?”
Kurt follows Rose into the kitchen of her apartment, which is a major improvement on her last place which was little more than one cramped room. Here, she has a separate bedroom and a real kitchen with a stove and a sink with a pump. The place even has a shared bath down the hall for each floor.
The first thing the two of them did together in her new place was make dinner and it has become a weekly thing with Rose going out to the market in the morning to buy everything they need. Kurt steps up next to her in the small kitchen and begins to chop and dice the vegetables she already has washed and laid out for him while she sautés the cubes of meat at the stove.
“That’s a good question. Aren’t you seeing anyone?” she asks with a suggestive tone, turning the sizzling beef in the pan.
“Not at the moment.”
“Florence told me that her granddaughter will be coming to visit…”
“No, Rose. I know you mean well, and I appreciate it, but I just don’t have the time.”
Or the inclination. Even if he had time to see someone, he knows no one outside of Sieglinde who he could even imagine spending his time with. A relationship is the last thing he is interested in. Some set-up even less so.
“I just want to see you happy.”
Kurt turns, adding the fruits of his labor to the large pot on the stove, stirring in the sautéed meat and placing the cover over the top.
Taking her hand in his, he assures her, “I am happy. Happy that I can take care of you.”
Rose sighs and pulls him into the sitting room, tugging him to sit beside her on the sofa, also an improvement on the old one, this one is a dusky pink, plush and comfortable, and Kurt relaxes as he sinks into the cushion at the opposite end, leaving space for their game of cards in the middle.
Pulling the worn deck from her apron pocket, Rose deals the cards and starts the game, drawing two cards from the deck and discarding one. Kurt follows suit.
“What about you? Any gentleman callers?”
“I wouldn’t know what to do with a gentleman…”
Kurt raises one brow, his head cocked to the side.
“Except for you, Kurt.”
“I’m no gentleman. I’m a boorish soldier.”
“A man should be a little of both…”
Kurt snorts laughter, drawing two more cards and discarding. Placing his cards face down on the table, he returns to the kitchen, releasing the scent of the simmering stew as he lifts the lid from the pot to stir the contents. Taking his place again on the sofa, he draws and discards again, trying to build up some kind of decent hand.
By the time the stew is done, a savory aroma permeating the air and spreading throughout the space, Kurt has lost several games. Whatever strategy Rose employs works far better than his own. He passes the cards back to her and moves to the kitchen, filling a bowl and kissing Rose’s temple before he steps out into the hall and knocks on Florence’s door across the way.
Some of the other tenants can be haughty, but Florence has been kind to Rose, welcoming her on her first day, often inviting her over for tea. Kurt sometimes brings her flowers as well, and always takes her a bowl of whatever he and Rose make for dinner on the weekend.
Florence is the definition of a sweet old lady, despite the prim bun of silver worn high on her head and her severe dark eyes that peek out as she opens the door. She widens the gap just enough to let the bowl fit through using one slender foot to prod her cats back inside. “Oh, Kurt, you’re such a dear. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Miss Florence.”
“My granddaughter will be here next weekend!” she calls out after him as he escapes back down the hall.
With a polite smile, he steps back inside the apartment and out of sight.
“Did she mention her granddaughter?” Rose asks with a sly smile as he closes the door behind him.
“Only for the hundredth time…” he replies as he grabs his own bowl and sits at his end of the couch, letting his stew cool on the table.
“She’s actually a lovely girl, Kurt. You could certainly do worse.”
He surely could. He could go to the barracks right this minute and find someone to warm his bed if that was what he was looking for.
“Rose, I like Florence. I wouldn’t want to cause a rift between you two. And if I actually entertained the idea of courting her granddaughter, I guarantee things would not work out. I honestly don’t understand why she even thinks it a good idea.”
Rose sighs, leaning in and lowering her voice. She hates to gossip as much as he does. “Fabienne is the eldest of her granddaughters and still unmarried. Her younger sisters have all married well…”
“So they’re desperate to marry her to any man who comes along?”
“It sounds terrible when you put it like that.”
“If it looks like a duck…” he trails off not a little sarcastically as he takes his bowl in his hand, blowing gently over the top.
“Kurt, Florence is quite fond of you. You’re good and kind.”
“The life of a soldier’s wife…” he trails off with a shake of his head, “I wouldn’t condemn any woman to that. Never knowing if her husband will come home. Or reduced to caring for him when he can no longer care for himself…”
“It’s part of the fine print. In sickness and in health.”
“I’m sure she’s lovely, and I hope she meets a man who can be everything I can’t.”
Rose nods, dropping the subject as they continue to eat, talking instead about his job and his charges.
“That Constantin sounds like a handful, but his cousin, Kurt, she sounds like a challenge.”
“They keep me humble,” he replies, emptying his bowl and carrying it to the sink to start the wash.
“Let me take care of that. You go on ahead to the tavern.”
Kurt would argue but it would be pointless. Instead, he lifts her from her feet in a tight embrace before setting her back on her feet and heading out the door.
At the tavern entrance, Kurt takes a breath, mentally preparing himself for the inevitable deluge of stares and comments. One would think he would be accustomed to it by now. One or two scowls at his back would be nothing, but it’s easy to see why the palace guards rarely frequent the coin tavern, preferring even less respectable establishments, or simply staying in and drinking their own liquor in the guard’s palace quarters, but he’s here to see Sieglinde and he refuses to drag her down to the lower boroughs.
Before he opens the door, a soldier he barely recognizes steps out, boisterous cheer and singing escaping into the night. Kurt heads right for their usual spot, in the corner furthest away from the pianoforte and the drunken singers standing beside it. Their corner is far enough that they can hear each other but still private enough no one else can listen in.
Sieglinde carries a pitcher and two mugs from the bar, dropping onto the bench next to him, their backs against the wall where they can watch for trouble.
“You look well, Kurt. Living in the palace all this time seems to agree with you.”
“Guess what my young charges did today?” he asks, picking up the pitcher and pouring each of them a pint.
Sieglinde lifts her mug with both hands, taking a quick sip and wiping the foam from her lip. “Climbed something they shouldn’t have and you were tasked with getting them down safely?
“Not quite. This time they tried sneaking out of the palace to follow me.”
“And I just wonder who had that idea…” she replies with a slight smirk turning up one corner of her mouth.
He scoffs at her, shaking his head. “No, it was the boy, I had just left and before the gate closed, he slipped right through with her on his heels.”
“You know he looks up to you. They both do.”
“I know. Constantin especially. His own father…useless waste of space,” he says under his breath, taking a gulp of his ale as he watches the other patrons who mostly stick to the opposite side of the room which suits him fine.
“How was your evening with Rose?”
Kurt knows exactly where Sieglinde is going with this line of questions. “Forget it, Sieg. I’m not courting some wealthy lady's granddaughter. Or anyone else’s granddaughter,” he adds before she can get any ideas.
“Your past doesn’t define you, Kurt.”
“It’s not about that. If you had a daughter, would you want her to marry a soldier?”
“No, I suppose not,” she replies dejectedly, staring down into her mug.
“I know that you and Rose both just want to see me happy, but I am. Since taking this contract, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. My nightmares have all but stopped, except the occasional nonsensical one and those are child’s play.”
“How long now?”
Kurt thinks for a moment and gasps softly at the realization. “Over a year now since the last one…”
“Well, that’s something to drink to,” Sieglinde replies, lifting her mug and gulping down the entire thing.
Kurt chugs what’s left of his own pint, letting Sieglinde empty the pitcher into their mugs as he calls the barmaid over for another.