After Times of Tender Agony: Ch. 3

A Proposal Gone Right

Notes:

The entire point of this title is to be a bit of a juxtaposition to the last chapter in which someone proposed to something else - meaning that chapter in SSitS where Kal's proposal to Galya got cut off by a storm and everyone went on several wild goose chases looking for each other for the next three months.

*****

On the third day of their sail in the open water, Janner knew it was time. When woke up, he took a deep breath as he slipped Sara’s bejeweled volume into his satchel, the same breath catching in his throat when he picked up the little box. He looked at it for several moments, noting the way it fit into the palm of his hand, how it turned and spun when he directed it with his fingers. In his satchel it went after that, trailing a slew of nervous and thrilled flutterflies behind it.

Breakfast was eaten at a normal pace, though he couldn’t help but feel the entire time that he was either talking far more or far less than usual, which was rather unnerving. Whatever he said he heard as a dead giveaway, and that which he failed to respond to or remark on the same. Sara didn’t seem to notice anything amiss or out-of-the-ordinary though, so he must not have deviated from normalcy all that much.

Joe and Owen must have noticed something, though, because neither bothered exchanging much more than the morning or afternoon’s greetings. At first Janner was slightly concerned he insulted one of them, especially when Owen began talking about the library and the newest volumes they had incorporated, then abruptly cut himself off with a, “but you have other things on your mind, so I won’t distract you.” He had left with a smile and without another word.

He didn’t feel horrible about being quiet and slightly spaced out until later, though, when he was standing next to the steps leading up to the quarterdeck, his fingers once again tracing the chain. Unbeknownst to his mind that was at that moment—and had been for a large portion of the day and previous night and previous few days and previous few weeks—reciting similar words over and over again, Greston appeared and asked him several questions, none of which he responded to.

It wasn’t until an enormous something grasped his shoulder that he jumped, swiveled his head, and saw Greston standing there. Janner felt his face color when he realized the older man had been doing his best to get his attention.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologized, more than a little embarrassed. He quickly glued his hand that had been near the chain to his side. “What was your question? I completely missed it.”

Greston smiled in a way that was almost a smirk, but kinder than normal smirks. “I asked you how practice was going.”

“Practice for what?”

He received a snort in response. “You know very well what practice I’m referrin’ to. Do you have a time and place set yet? You can’t wait and practice forever.”

Janner blinked at him, speechless. “Was I being that obvious?”

Greston did smirk this time. “Perhaps not to everyone. Just most. They may have the idea wrong, though, and if you don’t do it soon, Sara’s probably going to start thinkin’ that you’re dyin’ or something of the like.”

Wanting to present a different view on the part about him being obvious, Janner opened his mouth to counter it. In the same moment, however, he caught one hand grasping the strap of his satchel so tightly his fingers were white, while the other hand existed listlessly, as if dead. He clasped his hands behind his back quickly.  

“You have a good point,” he admitted. “But I was hoping for something like sunset or sunrise in a bit. Not this.” He gestured toward the sky that looked rather ordinary, meaning blinding as normal.

Greston’s brows knitted together. “What’s wrong with the sky right now?” he asked sharply, crossing his arms and sounding as though he was personally offended on the part of the sky.

Janner glanced up a bit, barely caught a glimpse of the blindly white sail, then squeezed his eyes shut. “The sail is bright enough to blind someone,” he began. “And the water,” —he looked out at the sea for another brief second, then almost jolted back from the force of reflected sunlight sweeping by because of the waves— “is the same, just worse.”

“They’re still beautiful.” Greston sounded indignant. 

Sighing, Janner worked to rephrase himself. “Yes, but I want her to be able to see when it’s happening, and I want her to not be squinting to prevent blindness! I want her to enjoy it.”

Greston shrugged. “Do it later if you want, then. If you’re going to wait, though, you need to start acting normal now and reassure her in whatever way is needed. You don’t want Sara upset and worried, and I don’t either.”

“I know,” Janner said, pursing his lips and trying to figure out how to act normally. 

Greston clapped him on the shoulder suddenly, jerking him out of his thoughts again, then uttered a few parting words and left. 

Janner went back to his musing after a moment, conscious of his hands’ desire for an occupation other than being clasped behind his back.. Waiting couldn’t be too hard, he supposed, since he had worked on purposely hiding what was happening inside for quite a while. Of course, the difficult part of it was that he had never needed to do so with Sara. Well, there were those first few months after Kalmar’s passing, but other than that the mask had come down while around her (and Artham as well, but he wasn’t there). It had always been a huge relief, a wonderful thing. Now he was trying to hide something from her, something monumental, just for a little bit longer. Surely, he could last until sundown, and then everything would be lovely, and they wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore.

On deciding this, he went ahead and walked around the deck, trying to figure out where exactly Sara was. Part of Greston’s suggestion involved interacting with her and setting her mind at ease, and the fact that he hadn’t done so before made him rather irritated with himself. Though he successfully found and exchanged a few words with Joe and Owen, the latter of whom chatted with a deckhand while the former shuffled and memorized cards that had the major points about Hollish functionality on them, he couldn’t find Sara anywhere. 

After resorting to checking the poop deck and once again not being met with success, Janner headed down the stairs that led from the deck to the lower second and third. Sara’s cabin—as well as his and the one Owen and Joe shared—was there, small and set near the poop side of the hull. After standing silently in front of Sara’s door for several seconds, he took a breath, rapped his knuckles against the door twice, then quickly worked to think of a natural position for his hands. 

One did not manage to come to his mind before the door opened and Sara appeared, but that was alright. His arm and hand still raised as if about to knock again certainly wasn’t natural, but it made sense.

“Hello,” he said. “Um…” he paused, catching a glimpse of her room and seeing what lovely things she had done to the tiny place, putting dried flowers and books she had procured from who-knew-where everywhere. It was lovely. Like a version of her. 

Without a second thought, largely because if he thought a second time, he would never get around to doing anything, he was down on one knee, pulling the little box out of his pocket, slipping it into his palm, and looking up at her. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight above him: her hands had flown to her mouth, and her eyes were wide, as deep and blue as the churning sea. 

“Sara,” he breathed. “The moment I saw you that one Dragon Day, I knew…I knew the Maker would do something. I didn’t know what, I didn’t know how. But then, later, as soon as I saw you in the Fork! Factory!...I guess I didn't really know then either. But in the time following, I figured it out. I knew what I felt for you was so distinct from anything before, and my love for you only grew stronger after that. And it paled in comparison to that which I know now, and I pray it'll only grow deeper and stronger. 

“Sara Cobbler, you are a wonderful, beautiful woman, so dearly loved, deeply revered, and fully trusted.” He winced inwardly when he stumbled over the parallelly-structured adverb-verb combinations, but Sara didn't seem to mind, and he continued anyway. "The Maker has given you these gifts, these talents of kindness and gentleness, and even though you deserve far better than me, because there isn’t a man in Aerwiar who is worthy of you, I ask you: will you be my wife?”

The box snapped open, and even in the dim lighting below deck, the blue diamond on it shone, casting little bits of light onto the silver-swirled band. 

She didn’t respond immediately, just continued staring, so Janner quickly said, “If it’s Mama and Artham’s approval you’re concerned about, I already asked them. They’re thrilled.” Sara did care very deeply about tradition, and he wanted her to feel at ease. He also desperately hoped that was the reason for her lack of a response and the panic racing through his heart. 

“Yes,” she finally said, her words muffled by the hand still over her mouth. Then she laughed a little, as if realizing for the first time he couldn’t see the smile hidden by her hand and revealed it. “Oh, Janner, yes. Absolutely!”

His hand trembling from the minutes of concern, Janner watched the ring shake between his fingertips as Sara lowered her left hand. He slid the ring onto her finger, looked at it for a moment, looked up at her eyes brimming with tears of joy, then stood and pulled her close.

“Thank you,” he whispered, a little nervously, a little awkwardly, but fully content and thrilled and joyful. 

Sara smiled, her head tipping up, a few strands of hair falling across her face, then murmured, “No, thank you.”

Hesitant for just a second, Janner brushed the wisps behind her ear, smiling when it made her eyes sparkle even more. “So…are we going to go up—if you don’t want to, we certainly won’t—and once or if we’re up on deck, are we going to tell them, or pretend everything is normal?” He still wasn’t sure if he wanted to keep this precious, between the two of them, or if he wanted everyone to know. She could decide.

Sara giggled. “Pretending seems fun, at least for a little. Let’s let them figure it out on their own, then once they figure it out, swear them to secrecy.”

Janner smiled a bit. Sara’s method meant having to tell more people individually, which wasn’t exactly a bad thing, but it did mean more people were involved. That was alright, he supposed, especially since she seemed so enthusiastic about it. “That sounds great. Let’s do it.”

They stayed down there for a few minutes, relishing the newness and fantasy of the engagement before Janner remembered he had something else for her. 

“I nearly forgot!” he said suddenly, and as he fiddled with the flap of his satchel, he asked Sara to close her eyes.

She did so immediately, smiling brightly, and asked “why?” with a bit of a laugh embedded in her words.

Janner pulled the jeweled book out, softly asked her to hold out her hands, and then laid it in them. “Okay, you can open them,” he whispered, holding his breath the moment he saw even a sliver of stunning blue. 

“Oh, Janner, it’s lovely,” she murmured as soon as she saw it, brushing her hand over the cover gently, cracking it open, looking at the title, smelling the pages. “I can’t wait to start reading it. But why now?”

Janner smiled sheepishly. “Someone thought a good method of proposing would be cutting out the center of the book and hiding the ring in it. The only trouble was that there wasn’t a book lovely enough for you that was also unworthy to the point at which I could ruin it. Uncle Artham is the one who actually suggested this alternative.”

Sara smiled, then took his hand in hers and squeezed it out of excitement. “Oh, I’m so glad you didn’t destroy it! But I am disappointed I have to wait until later to read it. Going on deck with you is definitely worth it, though.”

Janner reached for her left hand and kissed it. “I’m honored to be worthy of your time.”

“King Janner Wingfeather,” Sara said, teasing him. “Are you trying to flatter me?”

Janner smiled. “Lady Sara Cobbler, on a ship out at sea, one that rocks day and night and won’t dock for another few weeks, what better things do I have to do?”

*****

Notes:

*squeaks out of fluff-filled happiness

I hope you enjoyed the fluffy, happy, not-disastrous proposal!!!