#just constantly either shirtless under fur robes

“What have you been doing?”

“Baiting a boyar or two,” Lymond said. “How did you know so much about the road to Astrakhan?” The robe she had shown him was fox-trimmed, and of Persian silk. Bare to the waist, he allowed it to fall over his shoulders and subsided, with the oiled ease of total physical control, among the cushions beyond the low brazier.

“You are an animal,” the Mistress said. “Barbarous Scot. You have no shame and no shyness. Who do you think nursed you in those days out of Volos?”

The Ringed Castle, Chapter 5

What better way to celebrate someone’s birthday than with some thirst art of that time they were completely emotionally shut down and in charge of the entire Russian army? I did not mean for this to be a thing and then I spent the whole afternoon making it! Oops!