Anonymous asked: (sword Anon) omg haha i thought abt saying THIS IS A BLUE SWORD ASK but i was running out of space!! thank you for answering! also if i may ask, what do you think would have happened if corlath had waited to ask harry to marry him? would it have ever happened, or would he have just flailed eternally? would mathin still be alive? would, if he were, have died of exasperation? (good luck on your MCATs!!! i hope your day goes well!!)
I mean, let’s be real: there’s only so much that the Riders can TAKE. They’re only human. Even the most patient of them reaches the end of their rope eventually. That being said: Corlath is very stubborn and Harry is very oblivious.
So here’s my guess.
Yes, Mathin does live. Corlath welcomes Harry back with honor and a tight embrace and the return of her sash, and there’s a beat where they look at each other and Harry opens her mouth, and Corlath takes a breath, and then…it passes. Corlath smiles at her, faint and wistful, and Harry grins. In the healer’s tent, Corlath grips Harry’s shoulders and holds her up and bleeds himself dry of kelar because it’s her doing the asking, and he tells himself that this will be enough. She will sit at his left hand as Rider all her life, and that will be enough. He will figure out a solution to the problem of succession some other time. At the moment, Harry is alive and strong and wild with kelar, performing miracles under his hands, and he could not ask for more than that.
And so life pretty much goes on. No one really talks about that time where their king was wearing his Rider’s sash, at least not around either of them. Plenty of people discuss it on their own time, though, and none more so than the rest of the Riders. Harry is one of them, the Daughter of the Riders–Mathin’s affectionate nickname is taken up with enthusiasm after her dramatic victory against Thurra–and they love their king, and they’re both respectably intelligent people so what the fuck is taking so long. It’s obvious to literally anyone who spends more then a minute and a half in the company of the court that the King and the Rider at his left hand are soulmates. Except, apparently, Harry, and–they’re all extremely aware of this–Corlath would never push.
Richard and Kentarre get married and Corlath officiates, Jack is made a King’s Rider instead of a Queen’s. Aerin visits Harry in fires and dreams and around halfway through the winter rains, when Harry complains that she misses sun and sword training and riding and racing with Corlath, Aerin laughs until tears are dripping off the end of her nose and Harry is scowling.
“Oh, Harimad,” Aerin wheezes once she’s breathing again. “I can hardly judge you myself, but honestly.”
“What?” Harry demands, annoyed. She got over her shock and awe a long time back. Aerin doesn’t even answer her, just flaps a hand and fades away as Harry wakes.
The Riders start out kind of assuming that Corlath will move on and Harry will carry on in blissful ignorance, but it rapidly becomes clear that It Is Not So. Corlath watches Harry mutter curses as she stubbornly learns Hill embroidery techniques with an unreasonable degree of warmth in his eyes, and Harry has fallen asleep in Corlath’s study when kelar dreams keep her restless more times than she can count. The Riders progressively go from “this will definitely sort itself out one way or another” to “we might need to have a discreet word with Corlath about taking action” to “wow, these people need an actual legitimate matchmaking crew” within the months of the rains. Then they take bets on who’s going to choke to death on the unresolved affection and confront them with it first.
Two weeks before the rains end, the Riders and the king are enjoying a casual dinner. Innath watches Corlath silently wave away one of the hafor approaching Harry with a plate of spiced stik meat–she can’t stand the smoked flavor–and Harry smiles brightly at him, a little nod of thanks, and Innath–
Well, Innath cracks.
“I’m out, gentlemen,” he announces to the table at large, rising to his feet and bracing both hands on the table. A quiet ooooh of excitement winds around the table as Innath gives his king a mildly desperate look.
“Innath?” Corlath asks, raising his brows.
“May I speak freely?”
“Always,” Corlath agrees, bemused.
“My lord,” Innath says, clear and slow, “has it come to your attention that it will be spring in a fortnight?”
“…yes?”
“We are on diplomatic terms with the Outlanders, and the Northerners are defeated.”
“We’re all aware,” Corlath confirms, obviously amused. Harry is almost giggling beside him.
“Right,” Innath says. He takes a deep breath, squares his shoulders, and says, “Has it occurred to you that this spring would be an ideal time for a wedding?”
Harry perks up, still smiling. “Are you getting married? You didn’t tell the rest of us.”
Innath clearly can’t think of a response to this for a moment, staring at her while the other Riders watch, riveted. “I’m–no,” he finally says. “I just–listen, Harimad. Do you love Corlath?”
Harry’s smile evaporates to leave shocked silence in its place. “I–” The moment of intense thought is followed by visible revelation, and she shoots a borderline panicked look at Corlath. “What?”
“I think that looks like a yes,” Forloy says, raising a glass to Innath in a silent gesture of it’s all you and takes a swallow of wine.
“Corlath, you love Harimad, and everyone in this room knows it,” Innath says, barreling on without thinking–honestly if he thinks, he’s going to run out of the room, he knows it. “So why don’t the two of you do something about it? Like getting married this spring.” He toasts the two of them with his own wine glass, quaffs it in one, and tells the other Riders, “Right, I think that’s our cue, after you, Faran.”
No one, not even the hafor, ever actually knows what conversation happens in the dining room after the Riders pile out into the hallway.
But the next day Corlath and Harry issue a formal announcement that they’ll be wedded in three weeks, at the height of the spring blooming season. They’re holding hands below the railing of the stone balcony overlooking the courtyard, and even Corlath is smiling, honest and happy, as he looks down at Harry by his side.
Mathin collects a handsome sum of cash, but he cares more about the way Harry laughs and touches the gold sash at her waist.
