The Goddess's Gift

Winna brightened visibly at his request. Her sweet features lit up, and her eyes sparkled. She had to have few people to share her art with. Because her weaving was art. He idly wondered if she realized just exactly how much skill she had in it.

The young human woman stood, crossed the room to a closet from which she retrieved a box. Walking over to the table, she set the box down almost reverently, and pulled out its contents, laying them carefully out for him to see.

A rainbow of rich hues soon splashed across the table.

“You’re a very skilled weaver, Winna.” he told her, reaching out and carefully lifting one of the shawls to inspect it. “Did you do the embroidery as well?”

“Um, yes.” she murmured, her face flushing in pleasure at the compliment.

“It’s very nice as well.” he placed the piece back down, then reached out to brush his fingers against the rest of them. He noticed her dark eyes were drawn repeatedly to one that was a very spring-y green, dotted with petal pink and golden flowers. “Is that one your favorite?"

“Yeah.” Winna smiled, reaching out to brush her small fingers lovingly against it. “It’ll fetch a good price though. I’ll keep one without the embellishments. It’ll suit my simple wardrobe better.”

Lear reached out and picked up the green shawl, stepping forward and slipping it round her small shoulders. “It suits you. You should keep it, if it’s your favorite.”

“But-”

“Why keep a plain one?” he asked. “It serves no purpose. You worked hard, you should keep the one you like the most. The others will sell, so it doesn't matter.”

Her face flushed more deeply. “I-I…”

The fey man studied her for a few moments. What he’d initially thought of as just a passing interest struck him suddenly as a deep-seated sense of attraction to the lonely young human woman who stood before him. A strange development indeed, especially over the course of just a couple of hours. And given her reactions to him, blushing and trying not to stare, it wasn’t entirely one-sided. That wasn’t so strange. Fey were known to draw humans in, even those of his folk were were less conventionally attractive by human standards than he was.

To his surprise, she stepped away, looking down. “I-I shouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“I know it'll sell.” she mumbled.

“That’s no reason not to keep it, especially if you like it.” he tilted his head to the side, “There’s no reason for you to not have things you like. Especially if it’s something you yourself made. Keep it.”

Winna’s dark eyes flickered up to him, “I-I…guess you’re right.”

He stepped towards the human mage again, reaching out to tie the shawl loosely, holding her gaze. Lear knew full well that his eyes were somewhat hypnotizing in nature, and his flirtatious nature desperately wanted to draw her in, to see how she’d react. To lean down and pull her close, to have his lips so close to her skin that-

But the young woman broke that train of thought and desire by shaking herself suddenly, blinking and pulling away once more as she glanced at the clock.

“The food will be ready soon.” She announced, as if sparks hadn’t just been flying between them. Or maybe it had just been on his part? Had he misread her so badly?

Winna hurried back into the kitchen area, still wearing the shawl, her small fingers curled into the loose knot he’d tied.

Lear felt his hand drift out, wanting her to return. He pulled it back with an effort. Normally it was fey folk who easily wove (pun not intended, but very appropriate) a spell of enchantments over humans, yet it was he who found himself oddly entranced. How strange.

The flush that lingered on her face told him that he hadn't misread her reactions. There was a mutual sense of attraction. But she was human, and that meant she was probably different than anyone he'd ever found himself interested in before. As much as he preferred to be physical very quickly in regards to his attraction, he recognized that she might not. Whether that was because she was human, or it was just her personality, he didn't know. What he did know was that he could slow his pace to something more comfortable for her. There was no point in upsetting her, after all.

Seeing she was busy getting the food into serving dishes, he darted to the cupboard and put out the place settings.

“Oh. Thank you.” She said upon turning and seeing the table ready.

“Just because I can’t cook doesn't mean I can’t set a table.” he shrugged.

“Fair point.” Winna bobbed her head as she put the basket of rolls on the table, and then the dish that held the main course. “Normally I’d have a salad with this, but given it’s winter…”

“This is plenty.” he told her. After a pause, he added, “And it smells amazing.” Compliments never hurt anyone.

Her face warmed again, “Thank you.” she motioned, “Have a seat. What do you want to drink?”

“Any chance you have some wine?”

“No, sorry. Just milk and water, really. I should have led with that, given the lack of options.” she frowned.

“Water is fine.” he shrugged, sitting.

Winna got them both a glass of water, and sat across from him. “Please help yourself.”

-

Lear’s luminous green eyes had eclipsed my vision for a few moments. I could see myself sinking into them and never coming up again.

But my common sense slapped the daydream of what it must be like to kiss him right outta my thoughts, and I’d immediately torn myself away.

Fey folk were strange, I knew, and I shouldn’t have stared so shamelessly up at him. He was only staying until he was healed, and then he’d go. There was no sense getting a crush on him. Besides, I was just a weak little country-bumpkin human mage. Nothing to write back to his fey home about.

I chided myself for dwelling on how attractive he was. The fey man had four eyes, scales, claws, wings, fangs, and the wrong amount of fingers and toes, for crying out loud! There was also every chance he was just toying with me until he had to leave.

Dinner had been pleasant enough, with just a little small talk about the weather lately, how it had been a dreadfully cold winter, though we’d had altogether less snow than usual. It had all been very respectable, no gazing longingly into one another eyes. Or me gazing into his eyes like an idiot, flattering myself to think that he earnestly returned the attraction.

Stretching out my legs in the warm water, I sighed. Soaking in the bath was perfect for easing away worries. And embarrassments, in this case.

Finally, I hauled myself out and dried off, slipped into my nightgown, then left the bathroom. “Lear, do you want the room you slept in as a cat?” I asked, walking into the living room area again.

“I don’t care where I sleep. That room was fine.”

“Alright.” I nodded.

“Everything okay? You were in there for a while.” he commented.

“I just needed a good soak. It’s been a long couple of days.” I sighed. Not that he'd actually been there long enough to know how long I usually spent in the bath. That said, I couldn't help but appreciate his concern.

“Fair enough. Diana was sitting at attention. I worried something had snuck in without me noticing, but there weren’t any unexpected heat presences.”

I blinked, frowning at that, “What now?”

Lear’s second set of eyes flicked open. Instead of having white parts and irises, they were completely midnight blue. “These see heat.”

Feeling confused at being confronted with his inhuman nature, I looked away. “O-oh.”

“Something about that…bothers you?”

“No, not exactly. It’s just different.”

“I’m not human.” he took a step forward.

“I know.” I fell back half a pace. “This is just still new to me.” I forced a smile and looked up. “Sorry, I hope I didn’t offend.”

“Very little you could do or say would offend me.” was his quiet reply, “I know you’re not used to fey folk yet.”

“Maybe don’t use those second eyes to look at me while I’m in the bath, though? That’s an invasion of privacy.” I arched an eyebrow at him.

"You're right. Please forgive me." he nodded, "I'm not typically a peeping Tom."

"I hope not!" I frowned. "Otherwise I won't be letting you stay!"

"Understandably so." Lear shrugged.

There was a pause.

My curiosity led me to break the silence, “Do you usually keep your second set of eyes open all the time? If so, please don't keep them shut just because I’m still getting used to all this. Just…don’t watch me in the bath.” I snorted.

“I don’t, actually. Two layers of sight at all times is a little overwhelming. I do appreciate the thought, though.”

“Fair enough.” I shrugged. “Well, I’m getting ready to head to bed, but don’t feel like you have to.”

“I probably will as well.”

“I want to head to Jedda’s farm pretty early. I’ll take care of my chores, we’ll eat breakfast, and then go around eight, is that alright?”

“Of course.” he bowed slightly. “Goodnight, Winna.”

“Goodnight, Lear.”

-

Early the next morning, I was sitting on the floor, re-lacing my boots when, much to my surprise, the door opened, admitting Lear.

“The chores are done.” he announced.

“Oh.” I blinked, having not realized he was even awake yet.

“I’d have made breakfast, but given my inability regarding cooking…” he let his voice trail off, then shook his head. “I’d like to at least partially pull some weight around here.”

“Well, thank you.” I kicked off my boots. “I’m glad to not have to go out into the cold so soon after waking up, for once. Were the animals alright?” He would know all the chores I did from watching me do them as a cat for the couple of days he'd lived in the barn.

“Yes.” he held out a six-fingered hand to me.

I took it, and let him pull me up. This took him seemingly no effort at all, and put me kind of close to him. Remembering my mistake of standing too close to him, and staring into his eyes the night before, I averted my gaze and immediately stepped away. Heading towards the kitchen, I told him, “I’ll start on breakfast.”

Lear didn’t say anything, but I heard his light footfalls following behind me.

Finally, he asked, “Is there anything easy I can help with?”

“No, just relax.” I smiled, shaking my head, “But I appreciate it."

“Would you teach me?”

“What?” I turned, surprised at the request.

“To cook. I said I’ve burned enough things to know I’m not good at it, but…” his iridescent eyes drifted to the stove, “I’ve never actually tried very hard to learn.”

Another smile found its way across my face, “Of course! Mind you, I only make simple things, but I’m happy to share what I do know!”

“Thank you.”

“Come on, I’ll show you how to fry eggs. That’s pretty easy. And instead of biscuits, we’ll make toast.”

Soon I was illustrating every movement that I made.

“So, it’s really not very hard.” I explained, sliding a couple of eggs onto a serving plate, “But having a stove that’s better at keeping a steady heat would help solve most of the problems I had.”

“I see.” he nodded.

“Do you want to try?”

The luminescent eyes blinked once, “I…”

“Come on, you can do it.” I told him, smiling. Stepping aside so he could take my place at the stove, I pushed the spatula into his hand. “I’ll stay here and walk you through it.”

“I’ll probably burn it.” Lear muttered, unconvinced.

“Have some faith in yourself!” I laughed. “And me! I’ll keep an eye on the heat too. I’m not going to not help.”

“Alright then.” he eyed the spatula warily.

It was kind of funny, really. He was a fey soldier, and had likely seen and done terrifying things, but here he was, wary of cooking.

Lear cracked an egg into a bowl, and had to pick out a couple of bits of shell with his long, lithe fingers.

“That’s alright. It still happens to me too, and I’ve been cooking for more than twenty years now.” I told him.

Soon, the egg was crackling away in the pan.

“It’s cooking a little fast, turn the heat on the burner down.” I suggested.

“Alright.” He reached down and cranked the burner down.

“Not that far! Sorry, I wasn’t specific enough!” I reached out and adjusted the heat.

“Sorry.” he grimaced slightly.

“No, that was my fault!” I laughed, shaking my head. “I’m probably not a very good teacher, which doesn't help. But you’re doing well despite that!”

“A slight miscommunication hardly makes you an inept teacher.” he replied in an even tone, reaching out with the spatula and prodding the egg in the skillet.

Something about that made my face heat, and I looked away, stammering, “Y-you can probably try flipping it.”

“Sure.” he shrugged. Sliding the spatula under the egg, he flipped it easily with a slight jerk of his wrist.

“Good job! That’s better than I manage most of the time!” I laughed. “Are you sure you’re not just pretending to not know how to cook?”

“I’m a spoiled rich brat, I have no clue how this works. It’s more like black magic than anything I’ve ever encountered.” Lear snorted, shaking his head a little.

That drew another snort of laughter from me. “Well, you’re doing fine. Keep up the good work!” I told him, “Do you drink coffee?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, then.” I set about making the fragrant drink.

Soon, he had a pile of fried eggs on the plate.

“That’s probably enough! Unless you think you’ll want more? I’ll only eat two.” I said as I pulled the coffee pot off the stove, and poured it over a strainer into mugs for us.

The fey man nodded, “It’ll be enough.”

Next, I showed him how to make toast, which we did by cranking up the heat in the oven and putting slices of toast onto a wire rack until they achieved the desired color.

“That’s even easier than the eggs.” he observed. His tone was mild, but not displeased.

“Yes, the oven behaved this time.” I told him. “Sometimes it doesn't and burns everything. We lucked out.”

“I’m glad.”

Soon the table was set, and I brought him a cup of coffee, “Do you want anything in that?”

“No, I take it black.”

“Alright.” I nodded, getting the milk jug out of the cold cabinet and splashing some into my own coffee. “Oh, the fruit.” I hurried and tossed some dried fruit, leftover from that year’s harvest, onto a plate. “It’s dry, but it’s still pretty good.”

Lear took some dried apple slices, and added them to his plate. “Thank you for teaching me.”

“You’re welcome!” I smiled, “You were right, you’re a quick learner.”

The fey man only shrugged.

It was quiet as we ate for a few moments. “I’d like to learn more, if you don’t mind to keep teaching me.”

“Of course!” I nodded. “Like I said, it’s a good skill. And when you’re out on orders, you can translate it to cooking over a fire, if there’s not an inn to be had.”

“True.”