Priorities
“Pirate treasure? That is what they’ve sent you after?”
The Guardian’s eyes lift from the data pad in her hand as Acrius steps inside their quarters. She nods, managing a smile as he moves about the room, already removing armored plates.
“Calus is preparing as we speak and the Vanguard–”
“Is focused on him one hundred percent,” she sets the pad aside, sliding off the bed to approach him. “This is a favor to a friend…and finishing a battle I should have ended two years ago.”
He stills, fixing his gaze on her features. “You? Leave a battle unfinished?” Acrius snorts, “I find that difficult to believe.”
The Young Wolf reaches up, taking his hand gently and guides it a little lower so she can undo the bands of his gauntlets.
“Forge tells me it’s the Kell, Eramis. The Darkness wielder, or…wanton wielder.” He huffs a laugh, his amusement faltering when he notes she doesn’t share in it. “Her escape worries you. Why?”
Her fingers still on the latch, her eyes searching his skin for an instant as if it will grant her the words. “Like Calus, she’s forged an alliance with the Witness.”
HIs finger hooks beneath her chin, tilting her head upward. Sharp gold searches her own eyes tenderly, his worry evident even there. “And they will both fall upon your blade. You needn’t fret, Little One.”
A fraction of a smile, that's all she can manage. Acrius kneels before her, lowers his head against her own with a gentleness she rarely is treated to and brushes his thumb against her cheek.
His other arm starts to lift from her hands, not realizing she'd loosened the straps enough for the gauntlet to clatter to the floor between them.
The Hunter had dodged back to avoid it landing on her foot and Acrius just stares at the armored plate.
"That's…unfortunate."
She snorts, threading her fingers through her hair to push it away from her face before Acrius rises. He stoops to grab the gauntlet, tossing it onto the desk before he undoes the other one and looks to her as it drops beside the first.
"Have you eaten yet?"
"I'm not–"
"Of course you're hungry," he interrupts, turning to search through a drawer for a change of clothes. "The Empress mentioned you just returned, I–"
"Acrius?"
He pauses, turning his head in her general direction.
"You don't have to fret over me."
He closes the drawer without pulling anything from it. His steps clump against the steel paneling until he is inches from her.
The Guardian finds herself being hoisted up into his arms abruptly and she quells her startled cry well.
"Like it or not, it is my sworn duty as your husband to fret. So you will humor me or we'll resolve this disagreement in the sparring arena. Do I make myself clear?"
She breaks into a smile. A genuine, relaxed smile as her arms wind around his neck. "Must everything end in combat?"
"Well, if you didn't insist on fighting me every time I express concern." He sneers, seating himself on the bed with her in his lap.
"You're impossible." She chuckles, laying her head on his chest.
The plating is cold against her cheek but his embrace is warm and firm and soothing.
"How does your human saying go? An unstoppable beast meets a stone wall?"
She laughs. Acrius gives her a squeeze.
He mumbles something in his native tongue but it's too quiet for her to make out.
Instead, she finally climbs from his lap so he can change but not without a quick kiss against his cheek.
"Now," he rises to his full height. "Dinner?" His head tilts expectantly, sharp gold searing into her very soul and she can't find the heart to argue.
So, she nods, well aware he expects a verbal response but dragging this out is far more enticing than simply caving to his demands.
"Hunter," he warns lowly, narrowing his eyes.
She tilts her head innocently and moves over to his drawer to retrieve the shirt he'd overlooked. Even with her back turned, she can feel his scowl burning into her back. She can hear him rise and cross the room. She can feel the warmth of his frame just behind her as she pulls the shirt from the drawer.
She turns, tilting her head back to meet his gaze when she realizes just how close her partner is. Her back meets the stand and Acrius angles his head.
"Dinner?" He reiterates with an edge.
She smirks, pressing the shirt against his chest and simply nods again.
"Why are you being difficult?" He huffs, finally stepping back enough for her to stand upright, his shirt gripped tightly in his hand.
But it's just far enough that he can kneel down, holding her gaze somewhat evenly.
"You're adorable when angry." She counters, tracing along his chestplate.
"Ah, so we are using words tonight. Just not the correct ones." He looks almost amused while his eyes drift over her features.
Her hands lift, cradling his face, "Get changed."
"Giving orders now?"
Mischief glints in her eyes as she ducks under his arm and backs away, "One of us has to."
His hand snaps out, catching hold of her waist before she can evade him and drags her close as she laughs.
"And you say I am impossible, Guardian." He sighs, hugging her tightly as she melts against him. "You're lucky I adore you as much as I do."
"I love you, too." She mumbles, letting Acrius lift her off her feet and cradle her against his chest.
This was worth the time apart. He's always worth it.
Acrius clutches her close and the stress of the day drifts from her mind. The gentle trail of his fingers along her spine, the subtle nuzzle against the top of her head. He holds her and she can let herself drift, lost in the sensation of his embrace.
“I hate to interrupt,” Ghost materializes beside them, “But the Drifter says another ketch has been hit. He needs us.”
The Young Wolf slowly lifts her head and Acrius looks anything but pleased. She starts to shift, preparing to stand but her Valus will not set her on her feet.
“Acrius–”
“You just returned. You haven’t rested. Haven’t eaten. Your hair is still wet from your shower. You’re done for tonight.” He bites out lowly, an edge in his voice and the Guardian smiles slightly.
She reaches up, cradling his cheek and guides his head down a fraction. “I’m needed, Acrius. I won’t be long.”
“You always say that and then you drag yourself back in here at ridiculous hours, covered in gore and too tired to stand. You don’t tend to yourself.” He squeezes her, “I won’t allow it any longer.”
The Young Wolf chuckles softly, winding an arm around his neck and using him as leverage to help her get more upright. He is glaring when their eyes lock and she can’t help but smiling a bit more.
“You recall the last time we had this discussion?” She arches a brow, tracing a scar near his mask.
His eyes narrow, “I do.”
“Then you remember why I have to go when I’m called.”
His brow furrows, outright scowling now. “By the Vanguard. This Drifter is not Zavala–”
“No, but we are working with the House of Light on this. Misraaks needs aid if we hope to beat Eramis.”
“And what about what I need?” He presses, tightening his hold on her.
“That isn’t fair.” She chides.
“I’m not in the mood to be fair. I want my wife, Guardian.”
“This won’t take long.” She reiterates, pressing a kiss against his cheek. “After I handle this…I’ll stay the day. No missions. No pirates. Just the two of us.”
“You can’t make that guarantee.” Acrius sighs, resting his head against her shoulder.
Her shoulders sag a bit and she hugs him, “But I certainly want to, Acrius.”
“I know you do,” he murmurs, rubbing her back soothingly.
They stay like that for a time, clinging to one another until Acrius finally relents. He sets her on her feet, gently guiding her arms from around his neck yet he holds her hands tightly and wills his eyes to her own.
She smiles softly, “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” he rises to his full height, releasing her hands and shuffles back over to his desk.
The Young Wolf has no choice but to change quickly and grab her gear but she stops just shy of the door. Her gaze darts back to her Valus, his focus fixated on a data pad in his hand. She can’t take him with her, he’s already exhausted from his duties and she cannot stay. But she does move to his side, she does kiss his cheek and he huffs a soft sound of approval.
“I’ll be back as fast as I can.” She vows though they both know she won’t step foot on this ship until morning. Until he is already occupied with his duties and she will want nothing more than to sleep.
“Be careful,” he returns quietly, leaning into her touch.
“I always am.” Another kiss and she leaves, but not without regret nagging at her senses.
Not without a pang in her chest and a void that aches to remain.
She leaves but not without missing him.
-----------------------
For once, the others shouldered the brunt of the fighting.
The Young Wolf was able to clear off the attack without completely exhausting herself. For the first time in awhile, she returns to the flagship wide awake.
Now would be the best time to surprise Acrius.
She heads to their quarters, somewhat disappointed he’s already on duty but that doesn’t stop her from getting cleaned up and heading straight for the bridge. She slips in after a Bracus and scans the bridge for him.
He’s at his usual station, poring over reports as he so often does.
Saladin notices her but she presses a finger to her lips in a silencing gesture and the Iron Lord smiles slightly.
The Young Wolf finds a lower hanging beam near the opposite side of the room and uses it to get herself up into the rafters. She maneuvers her way over to just above Acrius’s station and she takes a seat.
Saladin glances up for a moment and snorts, shaking his head.
“What?” Acrius notices the expression, looking over at Saladin.
“When was the Young Wolf to return?”
Acrius squares his shoulders, a look of indignance that the Guardian can make out from above him.
“Soon,” he returns bitterly, “Provided she isn’t swept off on another mission following this one.” He grumbles, returning his focus to the console.
“I’m sure she’s on her way.” Saladin veils his smile well as he steals a glance up before skimming the console before him.
“I’d hope so,” Acrius mutters, shifting his gaze toward the door for an instant.
This is her chance.
The Young Wolf drops off the beam, landing atop Acrius’s shoulders and the Valus stumbles back, narrowly able to catch himself on a console.
She chuckles softly, leaning forward to try and see his face.
“Hi.”
He looks like he wants to scold her, yell, something. But he heaves a sigh, laying a hand on her shin, “You’re back.”
“Observant,” she pats his shoulder.
“Would it kill you to greet me normally?”
She pats his shoulder twice in confirmation and Acrius rolls his eyes. But he doesn’t try to get her off. He holds her leg firmly and steps back up to his console with her still riding atop his shoulders and resting her chin on the top of his helmet.
When Caiatl enters a moment later, she and the Young Wolf exchange a look before the Empress looks to Saladin for explanation. The Iron Lord gives a shrug but he looks amused all the same.
She shakes her head and continues on but the Young Wolf can't help a soft giggle.
"Something, funny?" Acrius glances up at her.
"I didn't think you'd let me stay up here."
"It's either you remain there or I lose use of one of my arms to carry you. This is more productive."
She crosses her legs just under his chin, "You're sure?"
His hand rests over top them. "Undoubtedly."
"Told you I'd come see you today." She closes her eyes, enjoying the trace of his thumb over her shins.
"That you did. I hope you realize I will not be surrendering you today. Not once. Not for anything."
"Promise?" She laughs softly, reaching down to cradle his cheek with one hand.
"On my life."
She'd have it no other way.
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