Uhm, both? Why was there a dog in my bed and why was it you? She demanded, glaring down at him. That wasn't in our marriage contract. She grumbled, fingers digging into her mattress.
Well, you were asleep and since you've made it clear you want little to do with me at all, I figured at least as a dog I'd have half a chance of some sleep before being chased out. He quipped back, not at all addressing the why he was a dog portion of that question and he knew it. So with another sigh he sat up, to turn around so he could stare up at Fran easier when he laid back down, arms behind his head. Trying to appear relaxed.
And see, one generally doesn't put "Is forced to be a wild animal twice a month" in such a contract. Nor really, bring it up until they trust someone.
Franziska narrowed her eyes, and snorted. Why'd you think it was okay to sneak into my room as a mutt, if you knew I don't want to share a bed with you as a human? That's an invasion of privacy. She grumbled, as if it was the worst thing he'd ever done to her.
She snorted again, though this time she sounded more amused than anything else. Yeah, and you were never going to trust me, s'that it? I see how it is. She pushed herself upright, and moved to get off of the bed.
You should leave. Wouldn't want the maids to get the wrong idea.
Because I was fucking miserable and was having nightmares. And since you want nothing to do with me, better to be screamed at like a dog if I was caught before I could get out, He grumbled it back in turn, a frown settling on his face as he debated between sitting upright once more or staying put. Once he'd made his mind up to stay put he rolled his eyes at his wife, shaking his head with a bit of a laugh.
No, about when I was ready to you stopped talking to me. I had planned on telling you shortly after we were married, it's hard to explain to your wife why you shouldn't be around her during the full moon after all, but then you fucked off. He finally relented to sitting up, his back towards her as he picked at the bandage on his arm again.
And considering your being your usual bratty self, I don't see why I'm bothering to explain. He moved to stand up, only to take a moment to pause and lean against the bed as the world spun, having skipped dinner and breakfast to get what little time he could with his wife.
Franziska rolled her eyes, You're ridiculous. You're acting like I'm the only person who'd warm your bed. You're king. Fuck around and find out. Her words were venom-laced, meant to hurt more than anything else.
She glanced over her shoulder as she heard him move, nostrils flaring as she watched him stand up. And the way he paused, leaned against the bed, made her frown and move towards him. Hey, dummy. Did you have dinner last night? She narrowed her eyes, and reached for his arm to steady him.
I know you've not had breakfast. The maids always deliver mine later. She huffed up at him. You are an idiot. And you're going to make yourself sick if you skip meals.
I know you're not the only one who would. But I fucking love you and would rather not fuck around on you, alright? Byron was in a particularly grouchy mood, or frustrated, if he was resorting to swearing but that clearly was the only way to get through to Fran at the moment. Not that it is seemingly getting me anywhere, loving you like I am.
He didn't stop leaning against the bed, instead he finally relented to his body wanting to sit and did so on the bed, grunting at Fran, though he didn't chase off her hand on his arm. When in the mess that was last night, was I going to eat? I came back after being a chew toy for a scared dog to get yelled at by my wife, who banished my dog to the hall and then left me alone. And since Fran didn't always take meals with him, he usually at least had dinner and breakfast with Samson so as to time his own meals to having some sort of company around. Don't usually skip meals, just turning back and forth saps me of energy. I'll be fine.
Franziska stared down at him, eyes widening slightly. She was silent, almost stunned, her brows furrowing slightly. Unclear if she'd heard anything after those first two sentences, she stared at him, slowly lowering hself onto the bed next to him.
After a long while, she spoke up, You... shouldn't say things you don't mean. And if you do mean it, you shouldn't. Her voice was hollow, like she couldn't bring herself to say the words. My family does not do that very well.
If I didn't mean things, I wouldn't say them, he replied as she joined him on the bed and he moved back to cross his legs atop it, barefooted. He wasn't afraid to speak his heart to someone, especially when it came to feelings. The fact she'd missed everything else he said however, caught his attention.
Just because your family sucks with feelings doesn't mean the rest of us do, Byron took a moment to observe his wife as he chewed on his lip before reaching out with his own hand to take one of hers if she'd allow. If I didn't mean it I wouldn't have crawled up into your bed last night. Would've gone down the hall and found a pretty paid or some strapping soldier for some fun. Which was the truth, and it was a sheer testament to his feelings that he hadn't done such a thing nor had he for quite some time.
Franziska scowled when he mentioned finding a maid or a soldier for fun. That's not funny, Byron. My family's pretty fucking cursed. But he was here, on her bed. Had been asleep in her bed. And he was reaching for her hand...
He'd feel her fingers curl against the palm of his hand, and she sighed quietly. I'm afraid you'll get hurt. Or worse. Her mother killed her father, someone killed her mother, she and her siblings were alone in this cursed world with no-one to guide them but their intuition...
Your family is no more cursed than my own, he commented with a tired chuckle. But it was the truth, triplet brothers with very different lives, himself cursed to forever be a beast part of the month, his father dead. He could relate, even if not fully, to his wife's plight.
He just looked up at her, tired eyes locked onto her as he squeezed her fingers in his hand. You can't change someone's heart, Fran. You can tell me I shouldn't and I still will feel the way I do, just be a lot more lonely is all. Not that I'm not already. He spent quite a few nights on his own, when the moons were high, to handle his own demons after all, it didn't leave him with much time to sleep around like it did his wife.
Silence, that's what the man next to her was met with. Pure silence. Dark eyes flitted over his features, and she exhaled under her breath. You're right... None of my family members are monsters, she snorted, and let herself fall backwards against the bed.
I guess you're allowed to feel what you want. But it's a terrible choice, I'm telling you. She played with his hand, idly. Come to me, tonight? Not as a dog, please. She tapped along the back of his hand, I don't... think that I love you. But I care about you and you shouldn't be lonely.
Even if she didn't like the filthy mabaris that roamed the castle corridors and streets.
Byron watched and waited, and he hated how he held his breath while he did. He let her play with his hand and then sighed at her answer. You say that, but it's not what my heart wants. And in that, I make no apology.
It was the sort of quiet grumbling that one might associate with a mabari, no real bite but the sort that made him sound just that, grumbling. Along with the longest heave of a sigh as he rolled closer to her, giving her the best puppy dog eyes he could.
I'll take what I can get. And I'll try not to be a mabari tonight. Won't be by choice, I'll promise you that.
Franziska eyed her husband warily, twining her fingers through his slowly. Her movements were deliberate, careful. She didn't like what she was hearing, and it showed in her actions and her words. But she didn't shove him away, like some others might.
His rolling over, to be closer to her, though, earned a wry smile. Yes, I see. At least your mabari likes me, she grumbled, reaching out to tousle the man's curls. They weren't the most delicate of curls, but they felt nice under her hand... And especially nice when she was pulling on them to get his attention.
Her thoughts wandered, and for a moment she was quiet. Then shaking herself out of it, refusing to linger too long on her thoughts, even if they were about the man she'd married, How will your people feel about a mabari and a mage on their throne?
Byron watched his wife, and while he realized she didn't give him any sort of response to what he said. It was more an acknowledgement of his words, which with Fran, he would take alongside not being pushed away. That was all wins in his book.
If my mabari didn't like you....I'd very much be down in a cell at the moment. He sighed as that was his one and only back up plan for dealing with his issue. A cell, isolated and alone, to wait out the full moon over head. Not that Fran needed to see how barebones that was, of course.
But he let her play with his hair, quietly enjoying the attention with his eyes closed to do so. For the moment she was agreeable to it all, taking it in stride and not out for his blood. Progress. And she wasn't seemingly ready to declare it from the rooftops, which was an added bonus.
A mage is better than an Orlesian on the throne, he started with a chuckle and a long sigh. And at least I'm a mabari how more Fereldan can you get?
Franziska frowned, her brow furrowing as she studied her husband. You've not come up with something more humane? I've been in those cells, they're nasty. She cared, even if she didn't know how much she cared.
She rolled her eyes, and shoved him playfully. Ferelden through-and-through, Byron Wulff. You've taken life too literally, she agreed, with a laugh.
