wizard_howell | (no subject)

(no subject)

"Sophie?"

He opens the door and calls out so very quietly. If she's still angry with him he'll have to... turn her into a cat all over again so she hears him out. That will definitely be a last resort, though. Tiptoeing through the castle, he moves from room to room but Sophie's nowhere to be found.

She's not in the flower field either, at least not as far as he can see, or spreading weed killer on the driveway, and he knows she wasn't in Kingsbury. That leaves the flower shop. He moves into it so very tentatively and cautiously that the bell above the door doesn't dare tinkle when he moves through. The atmosphere in the shop is decidedly... angry.

Before he does anything else, he turns the sign on the door to read CLOSED and, as politely as possible, makes the few remaining customers buy armloads of flowers very quickly and then leave. Once it's just the two of them, he looks Sophie in the eye, albeit a bit reticently.

"I've news from the king, if you're of a mind to listen."

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Sophie folds her arms over her chest and scowls up at him.

Lovely. Just what she needs to put her in a better mood: more orders from the King. More secret missions and neverending tasks, no doubt, she thinks, bitterly.

. . . still, at least he's speaking to her. That's a start, she supposes.

"I'm listening."

Well, that's something.

"There's good news and bad. I'll give you the bad news first: the king wants twice as many self-healing medical kits as before for the next six weeks. But..." He holds up his hand before she can protest. "I said no. Half again as many, perhaps."

Letting out a sigh, he hangs his head. "The good news is this: no more trips to Strangia, and..."

He ought to give her a chance to talk: she looks as if she needs that.

The medical kits she lets pass without comment; they're needed for the war effort, and though it's a good many to work on, she would feel worse if she didn't do them than if she did. But the 'good news' catches her attention: No more trips to Strangia?

Sophie nearly exclaims, and then stops to eye him, with some suspicion. "Do you mean that?" she challenges. "Or are you just saying it so as not to worry me anymore?"

Her reaction is more heartening than he dared hope for. "Heavens, no, Sophie. I'm not lying. No more trips to Strangia, that's definite. But that's not the best part of the news."

Braver now, he takes a small step forward. "After those six weeks, we're on holiday, the two of us, for seven days. No war, no medical kits, no seven-league boots, no weapons, no royal messengers, none of that. A pure and glorious week off, with no interruptions from the king. He gave his word."

He glances up at her now hopefully. She's been so volatile: what if she doesn't want the seven days together?

If she's been volatile, Sophie thinks she has good reason for it - and, she reminds himself fiercely, Howl's a wizard not only in the ordinary sense but with charming words as well. She mustn't let herself be coaxed around into forgiveness so easily . . .

(Still, it's most decidedly reassuring to know that he still considers her worth the time of coaxing.)

"What's the catch?" she demands, bluntly. "Why's the King giving us a holiday four weeks into the war?"

There must be something.

That's simple enough.

"Because I told him that without the break, he would have no Royal Wizard." With a shrug, he shakes his head. "If he'd said no, I would simply have taken you to another world... if you'd have gone with me, that is. I can keep up at this pace so long as there's a rest in sight but I can't and won't do it, and I don't like seeing what it's doing to you either, cariad. You need a rest as much as I do, if not more."

For heaven's sake, she's a new witch. Well, not exactly new, but just learning the craft, and she can't go at it full-tilt.

"And that, my dear, is the truth. I won't let this effort for the king compromise us."

...if she still wants us, of course.

Don't melt, Sophie.

It's much more difficult than it should be not to simply step forward into his arms, and drat the man, anyways, for looking at her like that.

"It's only half the King," she says, standing her ground as firmly as she can, though her voice quavers a bit. "He's asking an awful lot of us, it's true, though I see why he's doing it under the circumstances - but Howl, you can't keep things from me. I don't mind doing it all," she adds, more decisively, "when I know what we're doing and why, and we're doing it both together; it's you doing extra and not telling me that I can't stand."

Well: that's the core of it, is it?

Reaching forward, he tucks a finger under her angry stubborn chin. "No more of that. As long as the thing's under my control, no more of that. Honestly, I was only trying to keep you safe but I see you're bound and determined not to be left out. My mistake. I'd much rather have you by my side than not."

Of course, she'll have to behave and do as he says. Then again, if he tells her ahead of time they'll have room for negotiation. He'd rather not have her in danger, but he can protect her. He's just not sure he can always do it without giving himself away, not that it would give him a single moment's pause.

"But tell me: how did you find me in the middle of nowhere?"

He's very curious about that. He's not the only one who can keep secrets, that much is perfectly clear.

There's a small, treacherous smile threatening to leak out from behind the stubborn facade.

"Finding spell," she tells him, with great dignity. "It's not as if you're the only one who can do them, you know. I think it worked rather well."

See, Howl? She's not entirely incompetent.

Now that makes him smile. "You're brilliant, Sophie. But I've always known that."

From the first time he met her on May Day to this very moment, she's never failed to please and surprise him, and he's definitely not one for a demure little mouse, no matter how pretty she might be.

He's rather in love with her spirit and her spunk, her drive and her dedication.

"What do you say to marrying me some day?"

Yes, he's asked her before, but now they have a window in which they could actually do it. Still, he won't suggest they do it during those seven days unless she does.

The waters beneath his feet still feel so very dangerous, although her smile is definitely something of a salve against those choppy waves.

Something hard and nervous inside Sophie's stomach unknots.

"Well, I suppose," she says, airily, "if we can manage to fit it into our busy schedule," and then takes the extra step forward to throw her arms around him and hug him tightly, putting all her worry (lots) and frustration at the situation in general (a fair amount, although less than there had been) into it.

And takes the opportunity to rise up on her tiptoes and say into his ear, "But if you turn me into anything again without my express consent, I may have to reconsider."

The smile on his face is delighted and only for Sophie; as she throws herself into his arms he almost has to step back to keep his balance. But he manages not to stumble, picking her up and twirling her in the air before whispering so only she -- not the walls, not the flowers, not the weed killer -- can hear.

"Next time, you can be the dog and I'll be the cat. That way you can chase me to your heart's content."

He's still smiling when he sets her down, none too eager to let go.

"I love you, Sophie. I'm not so inclined to ever put that in jeopardy."

"There won't be a next time. That's half the point," Sophie says firmly, but she doesn't let go of him, either.

(She's also already planning to look up transformation spells whenever she has a free moment - because somehow, she has a sort of feeling that however often she says it, a next time will happen all the same.)

"Howl - do you think we might take that week the King gave us to get married? Or is that not enough time, with everything else?"

When he's done pressing a very purposeful kiss to her forehead, he nods against her. "Sophie, you're a witch and I'm a wizard. Here in this land, we can do whatever we like."

It's that simple. Honestly, he could have doubled the amount of work for the king but that's not his nature; making medical kits doesn't serve him any real purpose. It's a nice thing to do as a favor and yes, being Royal Wizard strokes his ego, but he hasn't worked as hard as he might.

And he hasn't done it specifically in the event of this possibility: he wanted reserve. He wanted to have something to give to Sophie and for the both of them should this opportunity arise. And it has, and he'll do whatever it takes.

"We've got six weeks. That's practically a lifetime."

That promise has to be sealed with a real kiss. And this time, the plants and flowers can watch all they want.

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