Jason cursed as he burned himself on the hot iron he was supposed to be turning into nails.

In his defense, Daramethe just walked past, he was seventeen, and she was beautiful.

Not that a journeyman mage had any use for an apprentice blacksmith, but he could dream, and dream he did. It wasn’t like she would ever notice him anyway. She deserved a lord, or a mastermage. Someone special.

He rescued his iron bar from the floor and shoved it back into the forge with a sigh, and waited for it to heat up again.

Nails. The endless task of any apprentice. Even horseshoes would be better, but their town was too small to need that many, let alone the more complicated work that the

By the time the iron was hot, his focus was back where it belonged, and he resumed his work with only a little resentment.

“Excuse me? Your name is Jason, yes?”

Jason burned his fingers on his iron again and cursed even as it hit the floor with a clang.

When he turned, it was to see Daramethe watching him with a concerned expression on her pretty face. He felt his cheeks heat. Bad enough to burn himself, but in front of the pretty mage? He wished the ground would open up and swallow him.

But she knew his name. He didn’t know she knew his name.

“Are you alright?” she asked and immediately set her basket aside so she could take his hand in both of hers. Blisters were raising on his reddened skin, and she hummed softly. “This is a nasty burn.”

She was holding his hand! Maybe getting burned wasn’t so bad!

“It’s just part of the job,” Jason hurried to reassure her and tried to get his teenaged brain to work when faced by the young women he admired so much. “I’m a smith. Burns are expected. I mean, I don’t like them, but it’s alright.”

She smiled and looked up at him, face shrouded by her cascade of black hair. Her hands were very small compared to his and Jason was careful to keep his strength under control. He forgot himself sometimes, and the last thing he wanted was to hurt her.

“I could heal it,” she offered shyly, like she wasn’t sure how he would take it. “I know most people are afraid of magic, but it’s really a very small magic and you need your hands to do your work-“

“If you’re sure you don’t mind,” Jason cut her off gently, willing to do just about anything to keep her talking to him. “I mean, I might be used to it, but they still hurt.”

“Just so,” Daramethe murmured, and closed her eyes. Soft green light glowed around her fingertips and coolness soothed over Jason’s skin as she eased away the sting of his burns- both the new one, and, to his surprise, every other bump and bruise he had collected in the last week.

“You didn’t have to do all that,” he told her, taken aback, although pleased. “It was just bruises and bumps.”

“I… I didn’t mean to,” Dara looked up at him, suddenly nervous of his reaction. No need to wonder why. Magic was viewed with a great deal of suspicion, and the unexpected healing could get a very poor reaction from the wrong person. “You- your body takes magic very well. I mean- you’re easy to heal-“

Jason couldn’t help but laugh as she stumbled over herself and curled his fingers around hers. “Thank you.”

The quiet thanks stopped Daramethe’s stammering and brought that sweet, shy smile back to her lips. She had dimples when she smiled for real, and Jason was completely charmed by her. She was still holding his hand and he didn’t want her to let go.

“Could I- would you maybe-“ now he was stammering, but she was still smiling so it was alright. “Can I take you for a drink this evening? It would just be at the tavern, but I mean-“

“Yes,” it was her turn to cut off his stammering with a simple answer he never expected. Her eyes seemed very, very blue and cheeks were pink. “I would like that very much.”

She said yes.

She said yes!

Jason managed not to jump for joy, but he did smile brightly and ignored the way his fellow apprentices were laughing at them behind his back. It wasn’t like they were blind to the pretty apprentice mage, but they hadn’t gotten the nerve to talk to her, and he had.

Daramethe could see them too, and her smile dimmed when she heard the laughter.

“This… isn’t a joke, is it?” she asked hesitantly and Jason’s heart sank. “If it is, please just tell me.”

“it’s not a joke,” he told her quickly and stepped to block her view of the other apprentices. “It’s not a joke. I’ve been trying to get the courage to talk to you since you arrived and they’re assholes and you’re so beautiful-“

“Do you promise?” she asked carefully, intelligence bright in her eyes as she watched him, but her cheeks were pink again when she realized he had called her beautiful. “Jason…”

Jason wanted to take his hammer to whoever played such a cruel joke on her, but he didn’t think telling her that was the very best plan. Maybe it was. She might like the thought, even if he wasn’t able to actually do it.

“I will never lie to you,” he promised instead. “I understand if you don’t believe me, but I promise I really do want to take you for a drink tonight, and maybe every night after that if you’ll let me.”

Finally, finally her little smile came back, and she squeezed his hand gently. There was a faint buzz to her skin and Jason realized it must be her magic.

“Let’s start with tonight,” she murmured shyly, taken aback by his honesty. “But if we still like each other after tonight, maybe.”

“Maybe is all I ask,” he told her, and reluctantly let go of her hand. “Now, you came over for a reason, and I don’t think it was to see me burn myself.”

“It wasn’t,” Daramethe straightened, more confident now that they were on safer ground. “I need iron shavings, and a dozen nails.”

“Does it matter how big they are?” he questioned, and went for the nails he made only minutes before. Iron shavings were easy, the forge always had a wealth of shavings waiting to be melted down into bar-stock.

“No, as long as the head is large enough to scribe a rune.”

He handed her one of the nails for her to look over, and collected eleven more when she nodded her approval. “How much of the shavings do you need?”

She produced a small glass jar and proffered it even as she tucked the nails into her basket. Jason filled it quickly and handed it back to her. “Perfect, thank you!”

“Of course,” he said cheerfully and leaned against his anvil. “Coin or trade?”

“Trade,” Daramethe replied, and pulled several smaller jars out of her basket. “This is burn ointment. I thought it might be helpful before, but now I know for sure.”

“You’re right,” he agreed, and accepted the trade willingly. If it was a bigger transaction, he might have called his mastersmith to oversee, but any apprentice could sell nails. “Let me know if you need more; we’re always making nails.”

“It’s like burn ointment for mages,” Daramethe giggled as she settled her basket over her arm. “Apprentice-work is always in demand, even after you’re done being an apprentice.”

“Always,” Jason agreed wryly. “Let me know if you need nails with bigger heads. It’s easy.”

“I’ll do just that,” she said and hesitated before standing on her toes to kiss his cheek, blushing furiously. “I will see you tonight?”

“Tonight,” he promised, one hand going to where she kissed him even as a stupid smile spread across his lips. “I’ll be there at sundown.”

“Sundown it is,” she beamed, and then she was gone, off on her other errands. Jason watched her go for a long minute, and turned back to his work, far to smug to be angry when the other apprentices immediately began teasing him.

Jason ignored them even as he shoved his iron back in the forge and started to whistle.

She kissed him.

Maybe he had a shot after all.