The forge had gone quiet for the night, but the Kilima Tavern was alive with its usual early-evening crowd. Hassian, Lyra, and Sifuu claimed a table in the far corner. Sifuu flagged Reth with a flick of her fingers. He arrived with practiced ease, tray in hand, offering his usual crooked smile.

“Well, look who the breeze blew in,” he said, eyes landing—unsurprisingly—on Lyra. “You’re glowing tonight, Lyra. New shampoo or just natural radiance?”

Before she could respond, Hassian cut in—calm, flat.

“Maybe it’s the pin.”

Reth looked down, brow furrowed. “Pin?”

His gaze caught on the silver star and bow glinting against Lyra’s top. Then it shifted to Hassian’s tunic, where the matching pin rested.

Reth blinked. “Ah.” A pause.
“…That would do it. I had no idea this was a thing.”

“Well, it is,” Hassian told him matter-of-factly.

He set the drinks down a little more carefully this time. “Right. Well. That’s… congrats. Looks good. On both of you.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll, uh… let you enjoy your night.”

He retreated without another word.

Sifuu watched him go with dry amusement. “That one really thought he still had a chance, didn’t he?”

Lyra grinned. “He always thinks he has a chance.”

“Well, he doesn’t,” Hassian said simply, reaching for his drink.

Sifuu leaned back, eyes flicking between them. “You know,” she said, more thoughtful now, “there’s something about seeing both of you wearing those. Makes it feel real. Solid.”
She looked at Lyra fully then—not as a blacksmith or a former monster hunter, but as a mother. “That pin means something in our family. It's not just for show. So… seeing it on you?”
A pause, soft but heavy. “Welcome to the family, Lyra.”

Lyra’s eyes widened slightly. She swallowed—not quite sure how to answer.

Sifuu shrugged like it was no big deal. “Don’t get all misty-eyed on me, girlypop. I’m just glad my boy’s finally got someone who gets him. Took him long enough.”

Hassian rolled his eyes and muttered “embarrassing” into his cup.

Lyra laughed, still blinking a little too quickly.

Sifuu lifted her glass in a casual toast. “To pins. And to people who know what they mean.”

They clinked glasses—

The Camp Out

“You coming in?”

He hesitated for a breath, then smirked slightly. “If I do, we both know I’m not leaving.”

She smiled, leaning back against the doorframe with a mock sigh. “I’d be okay with that,” she said. “But I don’t want to push. I know you like your space. Your solitude. I don’t expect us to spend every night together.”

Hassian’s eyes softened as he stepped closer, his voice low and steady. “I’ve had plenty of solitude. I’m starting to prefer the quiet when you’re in it.”

Her expression shifted—touched, amused. “You know you’re kind of sweet when you’re not trying to be.”

He grinned faintly, lowering his head until his lips brushed close to her ear. “Besides,” he added, “you smell too damn good to walk away from.”

She laughed, swatting lightly at his chest. “Come on, charmer. But don’t think you’re getting the bed tonight.”

He arched a brow. “No?”

“Nope,” she said, stepping past him toward the kitchen to grab a few things. “We’re camping out.”

He paused, head tilting in quiet curiosity. She opened the back door, and the cool night air swept in.

“Outside?” he asked, following her to the threshold.

She turned and flashed him a grin over her shoulder. “Big yard, remember?”

And just like that, his smile returned—slow, fond, and so full of warmth it made her heart skip.

Tau trotted ahead of them, nose low to the ground, tail wagging gently as if he already knew the routine. Lyra set down a basket of folded blankets and a small tin of marshmallow sweets she had tucked away just for fun. Hassian, wordlessly, got a fire going in the stone ring at the center of the yard.

Soon, the flames crackled softly, casting a golden glow that softened the edges of everything. They sat together on a stack of quilts—Lyra in front, his arms wrapped around her from behind. He planted the occasional kiss on her cheek, her shoulder, her temple, fingers trailing up and down her arms in slow, absent circles.

“You do this often?” he murmured, eyes lifted to the sky.

“More than you might think,” she said. “But it doesn’t feel the same without you.”

He turned his head toward her, just enough that their noses nearly brushed. “It’s starting to feel like I’ve always been meant to be here.”

She looked at him for a long moment, a quiet smile curving her lips. “You have a way of saying things that rattle me.”

“I mean every one of them,” he replied simply, leaning in to kiss her—soft, slow, lingering.

The kiss deepened, tender rather than hungry. Savoring. A language of its own. When they parted, they stayed close, foreheads touching, breaths shared.
Her hand found his, fingers lacing easily, instinctively. “I like this,” she whispered.

“So do I,” he said, already more relaxed than she had seen him in days.

Eventually, she shifted to lie back against the blankets, tugging him down with her. Tau circled once nearby before settling close, his steady presence grounding them both. Lyra rested her head against Hassian’s chest, her hand rising and falling gently with his breathing.

It didn’t take long before his movements stilled, his breathing deepened.
He was asleep.

She smiled to herself, letting her fingers brush along the edge of the pin fastened to his tunic. For once, he was the one who had drifted off first.

The fire crackled beside them, stars glittered overhead, and she closed her eyes with a heart that felt impossibly full.

Good Morning

Lyra woke warm, tangled in Hassian’s arms. Morning light filtered through the leaves, dappling his hair in soft gold. For a long moment, she didn’t move—just listened to the steady rhythm of his breathing and the gentle thud of his heart against her ear. When he stirred, his voice was rough with sleep.

“Haven’t slept that good in a long time,” he murmured, thumb brushing her shoulder. “Something about having you close—my body just… finally stopped fighting to stay awake.”

Lyra smiled faintly, her fingers idly tracing the stitching on his tunic. “I guess you’re comfortable here,” she whispered.

Hassian’s reply came quiet, honest. “I’m comfortable where you are.”

For a moment, the world stayed still—morning light filtering soft and golden through the trees, his heartbeat steady against her ear. Then he sighed, brushing a kiss against her hair before finally sitting up.

Inside, the little house smelled of fresh herbs and wood smoke as Lyra cooked breakfast—mushroom omelets and chappa sausage sizzling in the pan. Hassian leaned against the counter, still half sleepy, watching her move with the quiet ease of someone who felt at home.

“You always cook this well in the mornings?” he asked, voice low and rough from sleep.

“Only when I’m feeding someone worth the effort,” she teased, sliding a plate his way.

He took a bite, clearly impressed, then asked, “What’s the plan for your day?”

“I’m meeting Jina at the temple,” she said. “We’re sorting through some old manuscripts.”

He frowned slightly. “I don’t know what goes on in those temples. Is it dangerous?”

She gave a small laugh. “There have been moments, but I always figure things out.”

“So what I’m hearing,” he said dryly, “is that I should worry.”

“No,” she countered, grinning. “Not today. It’s just paper and dust.”

He looked unconvinced, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Can you meet Mother and me for dinner at the Tavern this evening?”

“I’ll be there,” she promised.

He nodded, reaching out to brush his thumb along her jaw before heading for the door. “Good. Try not to give me a reason to come rescue you... just stay safe.”

“I’ll do my best,” she said, smiling as he left.

The day drifted by in quiet rhythm. The temple was cool and still, the air tinged with the scent of old paper and candle wax.

Jina hummed softly as they worked, her calm presence grounding as always.

They spent hours piecing together fragments of forgotten words, dusting off pages that hadn’t been touched in generations.

Yet, even surrounded by all that history, Lyra’s thoughts kept wandering—to the warmth of waking up in Hassian's arms that morning, the rasp of his voice, the simple weight of being known and cared for.

By the time she packed her notes away and headed home to change for dinner, she realized she’d been smiling to herself for most of the afternoon.

Dinner

The tavern was comfortably warm, the scent of roasting meat and firewood mingling with the low murmur of evening chatter. Hassian and Sifuu were already seated when Lyra arrived. Hassian looked up immediately, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Lyra,” he said quietly, standing just long enough to brush a hand along her arm. “How was your day?”

She grinned, sliding into the chair across from him. “Quiet. Productive. And the forge?”

“Busy, as always,” he said. “Mother decided the first round couldn’t wait.”

Sifuu chuckled, lifting her mug. “Someone’s got to start the night properly.”

Hassian caught the server’s attention and ordered steak dinners for the three of them. Lyra and Hassian both took small sips of their drinks while Sifuu settled in with a second mug of ale. She leaned back in her chair, eyes flicking between them with dry amusement.

They talked easily—Hassian recounting small moments from his day at the forge, Lyra sharing a few amusing details from her time at the temple. Sifuu offered the occasional teasing comment, laughing softly as she did, clearly enjoying the quiet domesticity of it all.

When the main courses were gone, Sifuu waved a casual hand. “I’ll stay a bit longer, see if Ashura can entertain me.”

Lyra nodded, smiling. “Of course, enjoy yourself.”

Hassian rose and offered his arm. “Shall we?”

As they stood, Sifuu called after them with a grin, “You two don’t do anything I wouldn’t do… which pretty much leaves it wide open.”

That earned an eyeroll from Hassian.

The moons hung low, silver and full, casting a gentle glow over Kilima’s streets. A soft breeze carried the scent of dew-soaked grass, mingling with the faint warmth of the tavern that still lingered behind them. Tau padded at their heels, tail wagging gently, and Hassian walked beside her, steady and close. The quiet streets felt intimate, the world reduced to their shared rhythm and the gentle rustle of night around them.

By the time they reached her house, Lyra’s fingers fumbled with the key as she reached the front steps, the wood cool beneath her palms. She turned, unlocking the door, and when she faced him again, Hassian was impossibly close. His arm rose to the doorframe, trapping her gently, shadows playing across his face.

“You have no idea what you do to me, Lyra,” he whispered, breath warm against her ear.

She tilted her head, a playful grin tugging her lips. “I’m glad to know I have an effect on you.”

“Oh, you know you do, little girl,” he said, voice low and steady, and leaned in to claim her lips. His mouth was firm, deliberate, a promise in every motion. When he pulled back, the world seemed smaller somehow, the stars and moon wrapping them in their quiet glow.

“Goodnight,” he murmured, stepping away. A few heartbeats, a few steps, then Lyra’s soft voice called, “Hassian.”
He paused, turning. “I need another kiss,” she whispered, and he rushed back, hands settling lightly on her hips, the warmth of him seeping through her top. This kiss was hotter, deeper, the faint scent of his work clothes mingling with the night air.

They broke apart, foreheads touching, breaths mingling. “Goodnight,” she whispered.

He nodded, taking a few steps away, then stopped. “Nope. I need another kiss.” And he was back, lips claiming hers again, hands tracing familiar paths as the night hummed around them, the world reduced to their shared heat and quiet laughter.

Finally, he pulled back, chest rising, hands falling to his sides, though his gaze never left hers. The night seemed to hold its breath along with him, the quiet stretching between them like something sacred.
“Lyra… I want something special for you. I don’t want it to be that I lost control. I want you to know what it means to me.”

Her smile was soft, certain. “I’m sure it will be worth waiting for.” She slipped the door open and stepped inside, the soft click of the latch behind her marking a pause in the night.

He remained on the porch, arm resting on the frame, taking slow, steadying breaths, the cool night air brushing against his skin. He tried to still the echo of warmth and closeness that lingered long after she’d gone inside.