"Well, get used tae it," he said gently. "Because normal is what ye're goin' tae get here. Fer as long as ye want it."
Mhairi's eyes met his, and something passed between them. Something warm and tentative and hopeful.
Then she smiled—a real smile, one that reached her grey eyes and made Alpin's chest feel too tight.
"I'd like that," she said softly. "Normal sounds nice."
The stable smelled of hay and horses and leather—familiar, comforting scents that always made Alpin feel grounded. He was checking the saddle on his own mount when Mhairi entered, still wearing that oversized dress but moving more confidently now.
"Which one should I take?" she asked, approaching the stalls.
"Any ye like. They're all well-trained." Alpin watched as she moved down the line, stopping to examine each horse carefully.
She chose a dappled grey mare with kind eyes and a gentle temperament. "This one," she said, stroking the mare's nose. "What's her name?"
"Sìth. It means 'peace' in the old tongue." Alpin moved to help her saddle the horse. "Good choice. She's steady on the road and daesnae spook easy."
As they worked together to prepare the horses, Alpin noticed Mhairi's hair fallin' loose around her shoulders. It was beautiful—thick and dark, catchin' the light from the stable doors—but it would be a tangled mess by the time they reached town.
"Wait," he said, just as she was about to mount. "Yer hair."
Mhairi touched it self-consciously. "What about it?"
"It'll get caught in the wind. Tangled. Here—" He gestured to a low bench near the stable wall. "Sit. I'll braid it fer ye."
She blinked at him. "Ye ken how tae braid hair?"
"Me maither used tae dae it fer me sister before rides. She taught me when I was young, said I might need tae ken someday." Alpin's throat tightened at the memory. "Turns out she was right."
Mhairi sat without another word, her back to him.
Alpin gathered her hair gently, dividing it into three sections. His hands were large and scarred—warrior's hands, more used to wieldingswords than weaving hair—but he worked carefully, slowly, the way his mother had taught him all those years ago.
His fingers brushed the nape of Mhairi's neck as he wove the strands together, and he felt her shiver slightly at the contact. Not from fear, fer he knew what fear looked like on her, but from something else. Something that made his own breath catch.
She tilted her head slightly, giving him better access, and the gesture felt impossibly trusting. Intimate. She was letting him touch her, care for her, in a moment that was quiet and gentle and achingly tender.
Alpin's chest tightened as he worked, his calloused fingers surprisingly deft as they plaited her dark hair. Each movement was deliberate, careful, as if he were handling something precious. Because he was.
When his knuckles grazed her skin again, Mhairi drew in a soft breath, and Alpin paused, waiting to see if she would pull away.
She didn't.
Instead, she seemed to lean into his touch, her shoulders relaxing, her breathing evening out. Like she felt safe there. With him.
The realization made something shift in Alpin's chest—something warm and protective and terrifyingly permanent.
Mhairi turned to look at him, and for a moment they were very close. Close enough that Alpin could see the silver flecks in her grey eyes. Close enough that he could smell the lavender from her borrowed clothes.
"I'm nae as strong as ye think," she whispered.
"Ye're stronger." He stood, putting distance between them before he did something foolish. "Come on. Town's waitin'."
The ride to town was pleasant—the weather clear, the road busy with travelers and merchants heading to market. Mhairi rode beside him, and Alpin found himself pointing out landmarks and telling her stories about his lands.
The town itself was bustling when they arrived. Market day brought people from all over the region, and the streets were packed with stalls selling everything from fresh bread to leather goods to livestock.
Alpin guided them to a dressmaker he knew well—a sharp-eyed woman named Morag who took one look at Mhairi's ill-fitting dress and made a sympathetic noise.
