bakerstreet | Soulmates

"I turned three hundred and ninety-six this February. Which, depending on your calendar, was about three months ago. Unless someone beheads me with iron or I'm mauled by some horror lurking in the depths of places I know better than to go, I will likely live for another few thousand years. Or more. We're immortal in the sense that time doesn't affect us once we reach our static age. And you... well. I've met more than one mortal bound to a fae, and they've long outlived their human lifespan. You would stay as you are. You would not age. And they would notice. Even in the Earth I visit, I have to move every decade or so to avoid that sort of notice. As would you, if you choose to stay with me."

Better to lay it all out for her so that she's aware of what she's getting into. Oh, she was his mate, no ifs ands or buts about it, but that didn't mean he'd force the consummation on her, or drag her to where she didn't want to be. She was his to protect now. Which meant giving her the truth and her options.

"I would cease aging," Sansa says, trying to wrap her head around the concept. Staying one and twenty for the rest of her life seems like a daunting prospect. Yes, she's young and beautiful but it is the natural state of things that a person grows old and dies eventually. Living for a thousand years or more while looking the same as she does now - it is difficult to comprehend.

"It is something I will have to grow used to, I suppose, but you are right. I could not remain the Queen in the North if I cease to age. Magic isn't something to be trusted in Westeros and especially not magic like that. Besides, you said that iron can fell you? There are scores and scores of iron things in Winterfell. Even the handles on the doors are made of it. You could not live there."

It begs the question as to where they would live, however, because he has insinuated that he does not spend most of his time in Underhill. Will she be able to assimilate to such a place? Sansa has always prided herself upon being mutable and able to shift into whatever is expected of her - she survived King's Landing, she survived Ramsay, she can surely survive this.

"Yes. I will have to act quickly and put the plans in motion to have Jon recalled to Winterfell."

He dug in his memory to remember how slowly things happened in a world without smartphones and airplanes. Her brother, if he could be found, might take months to find his way to Winterfell. Which meant he'd be staying for months. Which might be problematic in returning back to his job on Earth.

A problem to be dealt with when it happened. Rowan had learned long ago to live in the now, not the maybes and what ifs. He smiled at her, then glanced over to another door. "There's a bathing chamber in there. It has... amenities closer to what you'd be privy to if you decide to come to Earth with me. Though, I hate calling it that. North America is the land I've been staying in, and the U.S. in particular, the country. I'm sure I can find a map around somewhere, or an Atlas. There might be one in here. Along with a map of what Underhill currently looks like." Because as a magical land, sometimes it decided to change. All the fae could do was learn to adapt around it.

"Oh! Yes, a bath. I did not even think of it. I have been running through the woods all day and I'm surely a fright."

Sansa hadn't thought about what she looked like the entire time she's been here other than his compliments to her hair and she imagines she needs to bathe before she comes to bed. Now she wonders how terrible she must have looked when he was healing her wounds; if she did look terrible, he hadn't said anything.

"I thought there was no if in the situation. I am your mate and therefore we must be together, based on what you've told me, so it would follow that I would have to live wherever you lived. It is why I must return to Winterfell and ensure Jon is returned and established as king. It should not take long to find him. My brother Bran is a greenseer. He is able to see through the eyes of ravens and knows everything that happens provided he turns his attentions to it. If I ask him to find Jon, he will be able to locate him instantly so we might send a raven to him. We might have him back in a few weeks."

Sansa thinks for a moment, tapping her lips as she does.

"Is there a way this door could open to my brother's court instead of my own? If we are in the south to begin with, Bran could find Jon much more quickly than he could if I had to send a raven to King's Landing and wait for a response."

"I've no control over where sithens open or close. Though, I do have my small magics that might help things. A ward of seeing, ah, scrying, could likely get us in contact with either of your brothers. It's an old magic and one I've not had to use since... well."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cellphone. He slid it across to her, then pressed the fingerprint identifier to unlock it so she could look at it. "That is the means of most communication in the land I would like to take you to. You press digits that align with someone else's phone, and in an instant, you're calling them. They could be next door, a town over, or on the other side of the planet. As long as there's reception, that will work. You're making me feel young again by having to remember old methods. And no, Sansa, you don't look a fright. You look lovely. Tired, maybe, but that's to be expected after a day like today."

"If nothing else, I will make a decree and send a raven to Bran. Bran won't let the North fall into the hands of someone who isn't a Stark even if he has to send troops from King's Landing to enforce the edict. With that threat, I doubt there would be a coup. I don't want you in Winterfell for any longer than you have to be."

Sansa gives him a soft look.

"The longer I am in Winterfell, the more I will feel the pressure to stay even though it is not possible. I cannot have the temptation lain before me. Whatever I end up doing, it must be done swiftly, and I must leave. That is the only way my resolve will keep me moving toward this path and not back to ruling the North."

He passes the "phone" to her and she turns it over in her hands before pressing a few of the numbers. It doesn't seem to do anything when she presses things but she also does not know the combination of anyone else's numbers or anyone to speak to who has one so she imagines she wouldn't get the full effect anyway.

"It's a strange device. You would have me learn how to use it, I imagine?"

"I suppose where we land is up to Rue as much as anyone. He seems to be aware of the thresholds, so if you'd prefer to land in the South, then maybe he can find that particular one." He looked down at the fox who was currently moving to curl up around Sansa's feet. As if the fox didn't understand him when he knew very well he did.

He takes the phone and slides the tabs and moves to where he can press a few places and soft, quiet music plays through. He didn't think recent club music would please her just yet, but something like Moonlight Sonata, which was one of his favorites, would do for a good introduction. "I would not force you or insist you do anything you do not want to do. It would be more convenient for both of us if you learned how to get ahold of me through this, and it is itself a small computer, so it can teach you things you'd like to know, if utilized correctly. But if you do not wish to, then I wouldn't press. I want you happy, Sansa. However that looks."

"I believe that with some time and practice, I could learn how to use it. However, my bath calls and I do not want to drop your communication...object into my bathwater. It might not bode well for it working in the future."

Sansa knows little and less about how it works but she gets the sense that dunking it in her bath would not be good for it. She decides that she is simply going to trust in the fox's ability to guide them to the proper door and put all the matters of Winterfell and succession out of mind for tonight. She will be able to do nothing on a scarce amount of sleep, after all, so she needs to simply focus on that for the moment.

The bath looks somewhat different than what she is used to but a tub is a tub and she knows how to get inside it. What is strange are the taps - but a bit of fiddling with them proves that hot water spurts from the pump and fills her bath with no effort at all. What a delightful thing, she thinks, and she will definitely get used to that.

She keeps her hair braided and out of the bath, not wishing to dry it later, and remains there until the water goes cold. It lasts so much longer than a bath at Winterfell could last and she drains the tub and towels herself dry before putting the robe back on. She doesn't have a nightgown but she does have a chemise that she can sleep in so she makes a point of going to get it to wear before going back out to Rowan.

"That is something I could get used to. A bath where you do not have to heat the water? Brilliant."

For his part, he bided his time while she bathed. He altered a few of the clothes he'd brought with him so that they fit her frame and had a more feminine style. One of the small magics mixed with glamour, and as the existing framework was already clothing, it was easy to manage. But that left her dress that she'd arrived in.

He'd cleaned both while she was in the bath, wondering about how drastic the difference between south and north were in her land and if the dress needed altering. He opted not to, since he hadn't asked, and he couldn't even be sure Rue would be able to find a Southern door, let alone if she wanted him to touch her things overmuch. The bed was a queen, as Rowan did like to splurge on a rare few things, his bed space being one of them. He hadn't bothered with a fire, as it was spring leading to summer where they were and it wasn't necessary. But he kept the phone playing music while she bathed and for when she came out, keeping the playlist to more classical music. A few folksongs were in there, mostly from Irish and Celtic bands that sounded classic no matter the era. The joys of the old land.

When she came out, he was just coming back in from making sure the outside are was still devoid of visitors and that the wards were holding. He was fussing and he knew it. Warding was something he was very good at, but with something precious to him to protect now, he found himself double checking. He glanced up at her and smiled. "You might like showers. And jacuzzis. I think there's much you'd enjoy, along with the lack of pressure to manage the wellbeing of everyone else."

Not that he'd give that up. He'd still be a doctor, after all. But they could look into what pleased and suited her and he'd find schooling for it, or a place she wanted to be and fit her in there.

"I imagine if I didn't have to be a queen or bearing some man's children, I would like to spend my time doing embroidery and making dresses. I get so little time to myself to sew any longer because I'm too busy enforcing justice and ensuring that everyone has enough to eat. Perhaps I'll be able to pick up sewing again if I don't have everyone to look after."

He mentions showers and jacuzzis and while she knows the first word in relation to rain, she has no idea what the second one could mean. She imagines it must have to do with water as well but she doesn't want to show her ignorance on the matter. Instead, she just nods and agrees that yes, she might like those things.

"Your object plays lovely music," Sansa says. "There is no way to have music like that where I come from unless you play an instrument or have a minstrel in your court. I can play the harp but, again, have so little time to even touch it with how busy I am."

He wouldn't fault her for not knowing. He was taking her from some place that sounded medieval and dropping her into the twenty-first century. He wouldn't think her ignorant in a way that lessened her mind. She was quick. She would learn if she wanted to. Her ignorance was through lack of knowledge, which would fall to everyone in her realm, not idiocy.

His brows lifted at the mention of a harp, and he found himself smiling as he came closer, holding out a hand she could take if she wanted. "Then I shall have to get you a harp. I can fiddle, but I've found myself doing it less and less as the years pass. Too busy with work, even when I take myself out of it to enjoy nature." The human condition was weighing on him, and even when he hied off into the woods, he found a fiddle not to fit in with the soft sounds of the forest around him. "I think I'd quite like to hear you play something. You've lovely fingers for it. And as to the sewing, there's plenty of that where I plan on taking you, if you choose to come. Plenty of kinds, plenty of tools. Fashion is in high demand."

"I thought I had made it evident that I would be coming because otherwise we could not be with one another," Sansa says. "You cannot stay in the North with me and I get the sense that staying here in the woods is not something that is sustainable either. We'll eventually have to go and rejoin your life. It was my understanding that being separated was not something that would work in our particular circumstance."

Sansa doesn't quite understand the mate bond or what it means for her but she does know she's drawn to him and isn't willing to give that up even for Winterfell and her role as queen. No, it's the first time she's been truly happy and she should be allowed to have that, she thinks, after bleeding so much for the North over her life.

"I left my hair up if you wanted to take it down," she says shyly. "Since you said you liked it."

"I meant only to enforce the fact that you have options, Sansa. I think you've had precious few of those." He said it in a soft tone, meaning to soothe. "Married twice without consent, treated horribly, and still you want to care for your people. And that is why I wish not to stay here. I'm a Prince here. I don't want to be tied to royalty and people that can be cruel. Not to mention that most of them would prefer I not sit anywhere near the throne since they consider me a child." Not that he blamed them. There was another a few seats behind him in line to the throne who was older than his father by another millennium. That one despised him and his proximity, and Rowan could do nothing about it but just stay away from the court politics.

He stood in front of her, a good few inches taller than her, and looked down at the mass of red braided up. "So you did. And I did indeed say that. Would you like me to do so in bed? That way, if you find yourself drifting off, you can just allow yourself the leisure of sleep. And I mean that in a strictly comforting way. I'll make no attempts to bed you tonight. No unwanted touching at all."

"I didn't imagine you were going to bed me. If you were going to do something of that nature you would have done it when I had all my clothes off earlier. Unless it was an elaborate ruse to elicit my trust only to shatter it now," Sansa says. "However, that would be quite difficult considering you cannot lie. Now that you have said you won't bed me, you can't."

Sansa gives him a wry smile.

"This not being able to lie to me thing is quite useful, you know. It means I do not have to play shadow games with what you say and what you do, trying to reconcile actions with words. The words will always match the actions once you have given them. I promise I will not take advantage of this particular...nuance of yours."

Sansa doesn't want to say weakness, exactly, because is it a weakness when she doesn't intend to exploit it for her own gains?

"So yes. Come to bed with me and take my hair down. I'll probably fall asleep on you."

"Don't think that not lying means that they're always being honest. Here, especially. No fae can lie, but they can make the truth seem like anything but. They can twist words and meaning and answer with questions that aren't lies, but aren't answers. Here, trust no one but myself. And Rue. He'd let no harm come to you." Not lying didn't mean safety, and he didn't want her to think she had a magical cure against knowing the intent of anyone that came to her. Especially a fae. "And don't thank anyone here. It's a trick they play, and they play it often. Thanking a fae means you're indebting yourself to them. They can play loose with the rules and use something innocuous like... stepping out of your path and you saying thank you to inferring you're grateful to them and in their debt and claiming you for their own. This place has its own set of rules." All the more reason he didn't want her to settle here.

He moved beside her, hand at the small of her back as he led her to the bedroom. "I'd like that. The brushing and you falling asleep on me. So let that be the plan for tonight."

Sansa arches her brow when he talks about thanking a fae meaning she would be indebted to them. A thank you is the smallest of courtesies, one that she gives half a hundred times a day, and if it is a dangerous thing to do here perhaps it's all the better that they do not permanently settle here.

He escorts her back into the bedroom and she slips off the robe so she's just wearing her chemise. It isn't as nice as having a proper nightgown but it is better in sleeping in her dress and corset so she will take it. She takes the initiative and turns down the blankets before sliding into bed and inviting him to join.

"I'll be sure not to speak to anyone here but it begs the question as to why you would even come here if things are so...difficult. I would simply never return and continue living where you are happiest. Why is it that you come back? For your mother?"

He waits until she's settled, going over to a table and picking up a heavy, old-style hairbrush that he brings over. He climbs onto the other side of the bed, moving so that she can put her back to him so he can start on her hair. "A lot of it's for my mother. Her marriage to my father is a contractual one. Fae don't breed as often between themselves lately as humans do. So contracts have been made to allow for attempts to breed the blood true. Any child of the union is wanted, but it extends the contract to attempt for more. She's almost free of him now, and she'll be returning to her court when she is. My father is... well. A pure example of a Winter Court prince." Which meant cold and practical. He wasn't sure he'd ever use the word 'love' to describe what his father felt for him. He didn't even think pride fell into it, since he was considered weak among his kind. If only they knew.

"But I'm still a sidhe. Still fae. And there's something soothing about being among my own kind. Being around magic. That, and familial obligation means when events occur, I make myself available to be touted out."

His hand reached for where her braid was fastened and started to undo it. "They don't think much of me, and I'd prefer it that way. If they knew what I could do-- the healing... It's better they don't."

"No, it would be better that they did not know what you can do if they are as slippery as you say. I am sorry your mother is contracted to someone she does not love. It is unfortunately the obligation of women to marry regardless of their feelings on the matter. I know that better than anyone."

He speaks of being comforted by being around magic and his own kind and she's reminded that they are not the same and never will be. She is nothing but a mortal woman even if being his mate means that she'll live a much longer life than she's supposed to. She'll never be the glittering creature that he is under his facade.

"Our line wouldn't breed true," Sansa says softly. "If we chose to have children. I imagine your fae wouldn't like that very much, would they?"

He undid her hair and let his fingers glide through it carefully. Slowly. Then he started brushing it out. He could play with it later all he wanted, but it was best to make sure it was untangled before he did so. "They would cage me. Healers who can do what I can are rare. They're also coveted. It means they can have all the 'toys' they want, do all the horrible things they like, and it's healed up nicely after and they can play again. A mind can only bear so much of that before it's broken. But they wouldn't care as long as it looked pretty still." He knew of another healer, a female fae, and she hadn't been seen in centuries. Before his birth. But all knew of her and that she was coveted by the High King and used to fix his broken toys. No, Rowan didn't want to end up like that. So he'd prefer to be thought of as weak and useless than show the power he had.

Her comment has him laughing, and he brushes the bristles of the brush through the crimson masses, shaking his head. "The old ones are the ones who care about purity of blood. Those born in the last millennium are more likely to try to breed with lesser fae, or find a mate among the humans. Compared to us, you all breed like rabbits." There was a smile in his voice, and he didn't sound upset by it at all. "Our children, if you ever choose to want to carry a child of mine, would be cherished. All children are. They're a gift from the Fates, especially between mates. It might just make them question keeping their bloodline so pure, they can't have children of their own anymore."

"No, the mind can handle only so much. There was someone imprisoned with me, a man who grew up in my household as a foster brother. His mind was completely broken by my husband's torture of him. In some ways, I believe he was treated even worse than I was because he wasn't needed to secure a dynasty. Ramsay could do with him whatever he liked and he did so often."

Sansa thinks of the Theon who had protected them at the Battle of Winterfell, though, the Theon who had started to remind her of the boy she grew up with. He had been a good man at the end of all things and she still mourns his loss. He was trapped same as she was and his torture was far worse than her own.

"My friend is another reason I am glad my husband is quite dead. It is Ramsay's fault that I am hesitant to have children of my own. I spent so long desperately trying not to get with child that I am a bit afraid of it, I think, and something that should be joyous inspires terror and dread in me instead. Perhaps that will change after a hundred years, yes?"

His hand paused for a moment as she said his name for the first time. Ramsey. Well, he was going to hate that name for the rest of eternity. He was quiet again as he brushed her hair, then let his fingers follow after the path the brush left. "Whether you ever want to have children or not is entirely up to you. Where I work, the land there, it's... well. Complicated. But women should have the rights to their body and if they choose to carry a child. Some places agree. Some don't. But I will never insist on you carrying a child, at all or to term if you don't want to. That doesn't mean, by the way," he said idly, still playing with her hair, "that I don't want some child of ours at some point. I think you'd be a lovely mother, and I'd be so lucky to have a child with some of you in it. But I'm mated to you, Sansa. I want what's best for you. At your own pace."

Rowan was quiet again, then toyed with a bit of hair. "I've seen far too many women forced to do things they don't want to, and what it does to their bodies. Their mental health. Children made to have children... It helps no one. It punishes the wrong ones. It shouldn't be a punishment at all."

"It is the making of children that I have to get over first," Sansa says quietly. "Because I am terrified about ever having to go through that again. I know it isn't supposed to be like that. It cannot be or people would not love one another while having multiple children. There must be some joy in it for women if they choose to engage in it. It just has never been so for me. So once I cross the first hurdle then I can contemplate the second."

His hand in her hair feels nice, sending goosebumps down her skin, and Sansa relaxes back against him. What had he said earlier? That his kind reveled in touching and being touched even if it wasn't the sort of touch that resulted in the conception of children? She draws her fingertips against his forearm.

"I will have to do it, however, because the mate...bond isn't consummated until I do it and then I might well die of old age."

"I can promise you that if you ever choose to let me love you that way, I'll show you how it's supposed to be between a man and a woman. There should be no pain- unless both parties want it. There's... layers to it, but I think those aspects of it are best left until you're comfortable with the act itself. Then you can ask me about exploring. But the first touch will be at your beckoning, and it will cause no harm. And-," he stopped brushing, touching her shoulder to get her attention, "no means no. At any point of it. Even if we were to start and it's already begun. You can change your mind and say no. I need you to know that," he said. Women in relationships like hers had been often had no say. Or if they said no, it was ignored. He'd not have her thinking he'd be like her monster of a husband.

"At your own pace," he said. "Perhaps you'll be drawn to it. Or curious. You can touch me any time you please. Anywhere you please. I've nothing to hide around you, so if you merely want to watch me be naked and shower, you may. I want you to be familiar enough with me that nothing frightens you."

"I imagine it would be very awkward for you if I simply sat and stared at you while I was wearing everything and you were wearing nothing at all," Sansa says. "I would feel as if I were on display and want to run and hide, if it were reversed."

Still, it is an appetizing prospect. She shifts a little in his arms so she can look into his face.

"But you would just let me look, truly? I've never wanted to look before so this is a completely new situation for me. I've never found anything appealing about a man before but...those circumstances had been different."

"That, my love, is because you've been objectified in the past. If you wanted me to strip down to nothing, I would. I'm at your beck and call." It may sound like overexaggerating, but he meant every bit of it. She was his mate. If she wanted him to play the fiddle naked, he would.

She looked up at him and he smiled. "How better to get you to feel comfortable than to take away whatever mystery there is? I'm a doctor. I know every part of the human body, and fae ones as well. There's no mystery for me, and I can see things clinically. You, of course, are a different story. It's all but impossible for me to look at you and think clinically. But I can behave. Still, you're a woman born in a land that favors men, and you've been ill treated. Giving you control? It's not a magic spell to cure everything, but it might help take away the fear. Or the hatred, and I wouldn't blame you for hating men if you've been harmed by them. Good thing for me, I'm not a man." He grinned and winked at her, then continued to play with her hair.

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