"Ye cannae promise that so easily."
"I can and I am." His hand moved from her shoulder to cup her cheek. "But right now, ye need tae let yerself feel this. Ye've been holdin’ it together so well, being so strong, but ye're allowed tae be afraid. Ye're allowed tae grieve."
The tears came then, hot and sudden. Mhairi tried to hold them back, but Alpin pulled her forward into his arms and the dam broke completely.
She sobbed against his shoulder while he held her, one hand stroking her hair, murmuring reassurances she couldn't quite hear over her own crying.
All the fear and guilt and helplessness she'd been suppressing poured out in great heaving waves.
When the worst of it finally passed, Mhairi pulled back, wiping at her eyes with shaking hands.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didnae mean tae fall apart like that."
"Ye have nothing tae apologize fer." Alpin stood, then held out his hand. "Come with me. I ken somewhere quiet where ye can rest."
She let him guide her from the breakfast hall, through corridors she was beginning to know by heart, until they reached a heavy wooden door she'd never opened before.
"The library," Alpin explained, pushing it open. "It's one of the quietest places in the castle. Almost nay one comes here except me."
The room beyond was smaller than she'd expected, lined floor to ceiling with books and scrolls. A large window let in morning light, and several comfortable chairs were arranged near a fireplace that wasn't currently lit.
"Sit," Alpin said, guiding her to the most cushioned chair. "Let me find something tae read tae ye."
"Ye dinnae have tae. I’m fine now."
"I want tae." He was already scanning the shelves, his fingers trailing along leather spines. "When me maither and sister died, I couldnae sleep fer weeks. Every time I closed me eyes, I saw their faces. I used tae read old stories, histories, anything tae help quiet me mind."
He pulled a book from the shelf and settled into the chair beside hers, close enough that their arms touched when she leaned toward him.
"What is it?" she asked.
"Highland folklore. Stories about kelpies and selkies and ancient warriors." He opened the book to a random page. "Naething too serious. Just something tae focus on that isnae grief."
He began reading, his voice low and soothing.
Mhairi found herself leaning more heavily against him, her head coming to rest on his shoulder. He adjusted his position to make her more comfortable, one arm coming around her shoulders.
The stories washed over her. Tales of magical creatures and heroic deeds and love that transcended death. Alpin's voice never wavered, steady and calm, occasionally pausing to turn a page or adjust the blanket he'd pulled over her legs at some point.
Time became fluid. Mhairi was aware of the sunlight moving across the floor, of Alpin's warmth beside her, of the gradual easing of the tight knot in her chest. But the specifics blurred together until she wasn't sure if minutes or hours had passed.
At some point, exhaustion claimed her. Her eyes grew heavy, her breathing deep and even. She felt Alpin shift slightly, heard the soft sound of the book closing, but she was too far gone to fully wake.
When she finally stirred again, the sunlight had changed, no longer morning brightness but the softer glow of afternoon. Her head was still on Alpin's shoulder, and his arm was still around her, though he'd set the book aside.
"How long did I sleep?" she murmured.
"A few hours." His voice was warm with affection. "Ye needed it."
Mhairi lifted her head to look at him properly. "Ye stayed here the whole time? Just holdin’ me?"
"Aye."
"Why?"
"Because ye needed someone tae hold ye. And because I wanted tae be that someone." He reached up to brush a strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering against her cheek. "Besides, I had nowhere more important to be."
Something in Mhairi's chest cracked open at that. The simple acceptance, the care, the willingness to justbewith her in her grief without trying to fix it or minimize it or rush her through it.
