[Aster]
The room was quiet except for their breathing as Aster and Silvia stood by the tub and watched their mother open the door a crack and, with one hand covering her breasts, peek out. Both were naked and nervous, both clean to the very last toe. Both still had some mana in them at the ready, should things go wrong.
It was just Margaret standing there, with an armful of clothes and a warm smile on her face. "Sorry for the wait. Tessa wasn't too happy about being woken up, but she came through in the end," she whispered, her brown eyes briefly dipping to Nivalis's chest before they found the blue of hers again. "These should fit the girls to walk indoors. We didn't find a dress for your oldest, but we found a few nice things instead. Took me a bit of convincing to make her give these away," she added, pushing the clothes through the crack.
Struggling to take the pile, Nivalis murmured a quiet, "That's... thank you, Margaret. Really. I don't know what to say," as she looked at what was given to them. Every bit of clothing was of a decent quality, surprisingly so for such a small, remote village. "Are you sure it's no trouble?"
"No trouble at all, dear. There are headscarves in there as well, much better ones than those old things," came a soft reply from the other side. Nivalis opened her mouth to protest that it was too much, but Margaret didn't let her, "Now get dressed and come out whenever you're ready. I'll have some stew waiting for you." With that, she gently closed the door, leaving the three of them alone in the quiet bedroom.
With a soft sigh, Nivalis latched the door again and brought the clothes over to the bed, spreading them out, separating them by who they were for. As she did so, Aster began to jump up and down on his toes from happiness, having overheard that he wouldn't have to wear any dresses. "Oh, man... oh, man... no more skirts!" he mumbled with the biggest smile on his face.
But it quickly faded when he shuffled over to the bed and saw what Margaret meant by 'nice things', and instead, a little twitch appeared in his left eye. Thick, dark-brown woolen tights were the first thing he saw, followed by a cream-colored tunic. Made of the same fine wool, it had wide sleeves and a curly bottom that didn't end at the waist like any normal tunic should, but fell past the hips. "Yeah, I'm not wearing that," were his words at the sight of it. "I'm not wearing tights."
He glanced at Silvia's ones, and they weren't nearly as bad. Just a brown dress with a skirt that reached her ankles, similar to the one she had on before, but made of much softer material with a bunch of buttons down the front. Sweater and pants to wear under it, both in a matching dark grey, nothing too fancy, but warm. She seemed pleased with it, unlike him.
Nivalis's lips formed a soft "Asty..." as she rummaged through everything that was on the bed. "They're not tights. They're called woolens. Not quite pants and not quite tights, but... well, something in between? They're warm enough to be worn on their own, without anything on top..." she tried to explain, but he just kept shaking his head at every one of her words.
With his nose all wrinkled cutely, Aster muttered, "You just made that up," and pointed at the tunic. "And what is that? The bottom is all... curly. It's like a dress, but one that ends at the butt. Nuh-uh, not a chance," he added, crossing his arms over his chest.
Silvia, who had already begun pulling on her new clothes, watched the whole thing unfold with a little smile on her lips. "Oh, come on, it's not that bad. If I can deal with everyone calling me your little sister, you can deal with a bit of curly on your tunic," she said, pulling the sweater over her head and hiding the flatness of her chest. A little huff was his only response to that.
A quiet, tired sigh escaped Nivalis. "Honey. Please," she whispered, picking up the tunic herself and holding it up to the light, "I'm sorry that you have to wear things like that, but it's either that or... or losing you. We talked about this. It takes just one whisper from the neighbors to a passing-by soldier, and then..." Her gaze met his, blue eyes pleading, "...I can't... I can't lose you, sweetie. I know it's not fair, but we can't be too careful. Please, just... try them on. For me."
For a moment, Aster stood there and just looked into her eyes, his golden irises darting left and right between her blue ones. A quiet, "...fine," slipped out of him after a handful of heartbeats, the word so small that it almost got lost in the soft rattle of the window nearby. A warm smile touched her lips at that, after which she began helping him into his new, hated clothes.
The tunic came first. Aster lifted his arms, letting her pull the soft wool over his head, a quiet, "Ugh..." leaving him the moment it slid down his body all the way to his hips, the curly bottom coming to rest just above his pale buttcheeks. "At least it's warm, I guess," he said, trying to be positive about it, wiggling his wrists through the baggy sleeves.
"See? It's not so terrible," Nivalis muttered as she smoothed the fabric against his flat chest. "Margaret did say these are just for wearing around the house. They seem like they do a lot of hunting, so maybe we can get some furs tomorrow, and you won't have to show any of this outside," she added with a hopeful smile. Then, she picked up the dreaded woolens and motioned for him to sit on the bed.
He did so, a bit reluctantly and with a quiet "yeah..." leaving his lips. No socks were needed with these things, since they were all one piece, so Nivalis simply took one of his pale feet, bunched the tight fabric around the opening, and guided it in. And up. The boy scrunched his face as she pulled the thing all the way up to his knee, then to his thigh, where the fabric pressed into him just enough to form a pretty bulge of what little fat he had in there.
Without pulling any higher, she picked up his other leg by the ankle and repeated the process. Then, with both of his legs in, she helped him stand up and pulled the woolens the rest of the way up to his waist and beneath that silly tunic. His butt felt weird at how tightly the fabric hugged it, somehow making it feel almost as if it wasn't even there. "There we... go," she whispered, and took a step back to look at him.
A frown instantly found its way on her face when she saw a little, very distinct bump at the front, a boy-shaped thing pressing right against the dark-brown wool. With worry in her blue eyes, she leaned back in and tried to smooth it out, to push it somehow to the side so it wouldn't be as obvious. Aster blushed a bit as she did, but didn't stop her and just stood there awkwardly.
Again and again, she tried to adjust him inside the woolens, but with how tight they were, there was just no hiding it. Then she tried to pull his tunic lower, hoping it would cover that little bump at the front, but it was just too short. "Oh, gods," she breathed in panic, turning to the bed and starting to look through the clothes there, trying to find something, anything that could help. And she did... something Margaret had prepared for the two sisters to wear.
And that very something made Aster's face twist in horror. There, hidden beneath Silvia's clothes, were matching panties neatly folded together, small, delicate things that were a shade paler than his skin—almost perfect white in color. "Oh, no. No, no, no. Absolutely not," he said, shaking his head.
He made a little run for it, but Nivalis was faster and caught him by the hem of his tunic. "I'll just... I'll just wear my old stuff. It's not that bad," he muttered, trying to reach the pile in the corner, but ended up just shuffling in place against the wooden floor as she held him.
"Asty. Honey, sweetie. Listen," she whispered, pulling him back to the bed with one strong tug, the boy yelping as he stumbled into her arms; his wool-covered butt squished nicely in her palm when she steadied him.
But he didn't listen and just kept shaking his head at her, wet silver strands dancing around his face. No amount of sweet words or pleading, no amount of threats, would make him put them on. There are things in life of a man, lines one draws for themselves, crossing which changes how you look at yourself in the mirror, and wearing girls' panties sure as hell was one such thing. "I won't do it," he kept repeating to every word she spoke. There was nothing she could possibly say to make him even consider it.
When she realized that nothing would work on him, a frustrated sigh left her. Even Silvia tried, promising him a massage later tonight for doing it, but he just kept shaking his head at them. For a long moment, Nivalis just looked into his golden eyes, holding the small white panties in one hand. Her blue eyes almost welled with tears, but even that ultimate weapon failed.
As a last, desperate attempt to hide that little bulge at the front, she tried to use one of their old headscarves instead, but it was nowhere near thin enough for that; woolens ended up looking weirdly lumpy and uneven around the hips.
Her forehead met the soft fabric of his tunic as she whispered, "I-I... I don't know what to do, sweetie." He didn't either, so he just ended up stroking her long, damp silver hair in silence, while she hid her face against him. A minute of that, then two. Nothing. No plan, no idea, no solution. Just the boy and his mother, with Silvia sitting awkwardly on the bed, already fully dressed.
Then, her head lifted from his chest, and she looked at him with a new light in her blue eyes, that of a desperate woman. "If you wear them, sweetie, then..." she started, shyly lifting those small, white panties for him to take, "...when we're somewhere safe, and we're sure it's just us, then..." she added, her voice getting smaller with each word, "...then, for pretending to be a girl, I'll let you prove how much of a boy you are to me during the night. We'll think of something naughty to do together, alright?" Her cheeks flushed at her own words, just a touch.
A little bite at the inside of Aster's cheek came at that, followed by a glance at the panties, then at her blushing face.
...
What is the manliest thing there is, if not enduring great hardships for the sake of your loved ones? Can you even call yourself one if you don't have the strength, the courage to do the impossible for them, to face things no other would? That is why, when Aster stepped into the dimly lit hallway, there was no bulge at the front of the tights he wore. His wool-covered feet gently shuffled against the rough wooden floorboards as he did.
Calves and knees and thighs, all were hugged tightly in the dark-brown fabric that made his legs look longer than they were. The curly bottom of his tunic swayed gently at the hips, failing to hide the softness of his buttcheeks and a faint outline of panties on them that showed whenever he shifted his weight. One of the headscarves that Margaret had brought was on his head, made from a fine wool that matched the silver hairs that peeked from under it, with delicate embroidery along the edges—little flowers that were a bit faded but still pretty.
Pink blush dusted his cheeks and nose at the whole thing, at the weird softness in the naughty area, and at the gentle way the woolens clung to every last bit of him below the waist. But he endured it. Because that's what men do.
Behind him, Nivalis stepped through a doorway and into the hallway as well, a relieved expression on her face that was lit by the candle she held. A simple, but well-made winter dress hugged her figure nicely and reached all the way down to her ankles, dark green in color with laces at the front that she kept adjusting every few moments. A matching headscarf was on her head, hiding her long ears and most of her silver hair. "Come, let's hurry. We've been in here long enough," she hushed, putting one hand on his shoulder and gently nudging him forward. "You're doing great, sweetie."
Silvia was the last one to leave the room, carrying all of their old clothes in her hands. Her golden eyes kept rolling, again and again, behind those long eyelashes of hers at what had just happened inside the room. "That was so dumb. He pretty much flew into them," she muttered quietly as she stepped after them, the skirt of her new dress swishing softly around her legs. "We should've started with the naughty stuff. Boys are so simple like that."
Hushing her for using the forbidden and very dangerous word 'boy,' Nivalis led the two down the short hallway, with the candlelight dancing upon the dark wood walls and floorboards creaking at every step. A few more, and she gently pushed the curtain that separated this part of the house from the main room aside. The scent of something delicious instantly hit them, something infinitely better than that porridge they were planning to eat back at the barn.
Margaret was there, at the table, busy arranging wooden bowls and spoons around. When she looked up and noticed them, a warm, welcoming smile found its way to her lips. "There you are. I was beginning to worry about you girls," she said, her brown eyes taking in Aster's flushed face and the way he kept pulling at the bottom of his tunic in an attempt to hide an incredibly squishy butt under it.
A little slap at the wrist made him stop. "Sorry about that. We never owned woolens before, so it took us a bit to get used to them," Nivalis said with a soft smile, her hand not leaving the small of the boy's shoulder. Meanwhile, Silvia quickly darted to the side and stuffed their old bag with their dirty clothes in the corner, before returning to her mother's side. All sneaky like.
The softest of "Ah..." escaped Margaret's lips as she nodded knowingly; having a child wear something new, something different, was a struggle every mother knew all too well. Her brown eyes lingered on Aster's thighs for a bit, on how tightly the dark-brown wool hugged them, then drifted up to his blushing face. "You look lovely, sweetie. You all do, clean and pretty," she said, then looked at her husband sitting at the table, and did the thing wives often do, "Say it."
Hagen blinked slowly, his gaze pulling away from the fascinating crack in the wood he'd been studying while waiting for his dinner. "Huh?" came out as the man's dark eyes met his wife's stern ones. "Oh, yeah," he added a heartbeat later, a short, awkward nod following, "...you look good, much better than what you had on before. Margaret did well with you." That earned a quiet, pleased hum from her.
"Thank you again. For all of this," Nivalis murmured to both of them, blowing out the candle she was still holding and putting it on a nearby shelf. "What about the tub? Do you need me to pour the water out?" she then asked, her blue eyes darting back towards the curtain they had just come through.
Waving his hand at the question, Hagen gave a quiet, "I'll handle it later," and pushed nearby chairs closer for them to sit on, saying little else.
"And again, you're very welcome, dear. Now, you're just in time for the stew. Shouldn't be too long," Margaret said, motioning for them to take their seats around the table. A shy nod was Nivalis's response as she moved to the table, her children following right after her like a couple of little ducklings. When she moved past the kind woman, a faint whisper reached her ear, "There were panties for you as well in the pile. Did you find them?"
Nivalis gave an even shyer nod as she stopped beside her. "They're very nice. Thank you," she breathed back, to which Margaret just smiled, then motioned again for them to sit. And so they did, the chairs creaking softly under their weight. Aster and Silvia ended up next to each other, swishing sounds of wool against the wood following them as they did, while Nivalis took the seat at the end, closest to the fireplace, where Margaret went to take care of the rattling pot above it.
A few stirs later, and she was already on her way back to the table with it and a wooden ladle in her hands. "Barley, carrots, onions, a bit of dried rabbit. I made it thinner so it cooks faster, as the hour is already late," Margaret explained, taking the clay lid off and letting the delicious scent of it fill the room instantly. "And speaking of late hour..." she added while ladling a good amount of stew into their bowls, "we don't have a spare bed for you girls, so we've laid out some furs for you to sleep on. I hope you don't mind."
It took a lot of effort to tear their eyes away from the golden-brown stew and look at where she was pointing, and there it was. A cozy-looking nest of furs and blankets, right by the fireplace. "It's... It's perfect. Thank you," Nivalis managed to say, but the growl in her stomach almost drowned out her words. Everyone at the table chuckled at that, causing a small blush to warm her cheeks.
"Nothing to be ashamed of. You must be starving," Margaret hushed with a soft smile, giving an extra ladle to her bowl and almost making the stew spill over the edges. There was visibly much less food in her own bowl and her husband's, something Nivalis noticed right away, but before she could say anything, a quiet, "Now, less talking and more eating," left the woman, and everyone was given a wooden spoon.
Nodding their thanks, the silver-haired family began eating, clunking wood against wood and stuffing their mouths like there was no tomorrow. The stew was as delicious as it smelled, and even more so after days of moldy porridge. Carrots melted in their mouths, barley was soft and filling, and those little bits of rabbit in it... Aster forgot all about the panties digging into his butt whenever he fished one out; that's how good it was.
"Tomorrow I'll introduce you to Mother Anne, our village elder," Margaret said after taking a few bites herself, a soft murmur against the rhythmic sound of spoons against bowls. That made Nivalis look up from her bowl with a bit of worry in her eyes. "She's a sweet old woman, don't worry."
She paused, gesturing vaguely towards the window with her thumb, where the wooden shutters rattled against the night. "There's an empty house on the other side of the village, a tad away from the rest and not very big. Butcher's son eyed it for a while, but she refused to give it to him because he has no lass to keep it warm." A little smile played on her lips as she added, "I have my ways with her, so maybe I'll talk her into letting you girls have it."
A surprised slurp escaped Aster as his ears caught that. 'Our own home?' he thought with a wooden handle sticking out of his mouth, golden eyes darting to the side and meeting the just as surprised golden ones of his sister. She nodded, as if answering his thoughts. 'No way.' She nodded again.
"Don't get your hopes up just yet. It's up to Mother Anne, so no promises, but..." Margaret added with a soft smile, "...as I said, I have my ways." Hagen simply nodded at that, a proud look on his face as he chewed.
"That's..." Nivalis whispered, carefully swallowing the bite she had, "...very generous of you. A bit too much, even. I don't... know what to say." Her eyes went down to her bowl, then up again, shifting between Margaret and Hagen. "I can help around the village, or... I don't know, I can do a lot of things, so maybe that could..." she trailed off, unsure how to phrase it.
"Don't you worry about that. If you want to thank us, make sure the bottom of your bowl shows," Margaret whispered, reaching over the table and giving her hand a little pat, which made a bit of wetness appear in the blue of Nivalis's eyes. She quickly blinked it away before anyone could notice and returned to her food with a quiet hum of agreement.
The room went quiet for a while after that, with only the crackling fire, rattling shutters, and the sounds of five people eating a hot meal on a cold night. A comfortable kind of quiet. That is, until that quiet was broken by a soft shuffle of bare feet against the wood, coming from the direction of the curtain.
A young and incredibly sleepy lad, not much older than Aster himself, appeared from behind it. "M-mom...?" the boy mumbled, rubbing at his eyes with one hand as he shuffled into the room. He had short, messy dark hair, a sleepy face, and wore a simple nightshirt that reached down to his knees. "...am I going crazy, or do I smell stew in the middle of the night?" he asked, then froze mid-shuffle when he noticed they had guests.
Three guests they had, but his brown eyes noticed only one, a girl of his age and a beauty unlike any other, just sitting there in their dining room. A gust of wind appeared out of nowhere, as if from the gods themselves, and sent some stray silver hair from her headscarf onto the side of her flushed face, making the boy's heart skip a beat. Then, once more, when he saw soft thighs wrapped in dark wool and a pair of golden eyes that blinked right back at him. For a heartbeat, neither of them moved or even breathed. And for another, and another. One from confusion, and the other... from love.
Silvia, sitting right between them, found herself swishing her head from left to right and back again, with a wooden spoon halfway to her lips. "Oh, this is..." she muttered under her breath, with the brightest of grins she'd ever had, "...this is hilarious."