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Callum had one, vivid memory from his childhood.
He remembered everything. He remembered the clothes he had been wearing, a blue silk jerkin and soft boots that smelled freshly made. He remembered the brand-new sketchbook in his hands, and remembered the weight of the charcoal pencil in his fingers. Most importantly, he remembered both his mother and his step-father, and remembered the way they interacted with each other.
Callum had been sitting by the fireplace in the room Harrow and his mother shared, trying his best to duplicate the family portrait that hung nearby. The sketchbook had been a gift from Harrow for Callum’s fifth birthday, and the first thing that Callum wanted to do with it was put his family in the pages. So, with his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth, he went to work almost immediately, and the two royals in the room simply let him, chatting on the bed as they waited for Callum to finish.
“So I received my first complaint as king from the royal baker today,” Harrow said with a smile as he gestured to an empty plate of jelly tarts.
Sarai made a face as she chomped down on the last pastry. “Well, perhaps if he made more jelly tarts he would have nothing to complain about.”
“ Or maybe if the queen would stop raiding the royal kitchen…” Harrow started, but then stopped as his wife began to glare at him. “Or…I could hire another baker.”
Sarai grinned. “Mmm, yes.”
“Especially with our newest family member inheriting your sweet tooth.” Harrow poked Sarai in the nose, then grimaced as a speck of jelly came off on his finger. “And who’s got jelly smeared on their nose now?”
She rolled her eyes. “ Maybe I could be convinced to stop stealing sweets for a while. But…only if you give me something worth my while.” She leaned forward as she spoke, smirking. Callum wasn’t sure what was happening, so he focused on his drawing. Adults were weird.
“Oh, really?” Harrow’s voice replied. “How many gold coins would it take?”
Sarai paused for a minute, long enough that Callum looked up curiously to see his mother staring at Harrow in disbelief. Then she laughed loudly, shaking her head at him with a tender smile. “Harrow, you’re an idiot.”
Callum paused in the middle of attempting to color in his drawing to look more closely at them, feeling a child’s indignancy at injustice. “Mommy, you can’t say that, that’s mean!”
Harrow and Sarai shared a look, almost as if they were having a silent debate. After a moment, Harrow slumped his shoulders and stood, rubbing his temples as he crossed the room. He kneeled in front of Callum, smiling kindly at him.
Callum shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He was still unfamiliar with the man, though he seemed to be kind.
“Callum,” Harrow started, sending him a comforting smile, “sometimes, when people say things, they don’t really mean it.”
Callum cocked his head at him, frowning as he put down his pencil. “Like lying?”
Across the room, his mother snorted. Harrow’s smile grew a little bit more amused.
“No, not like lying,” he said. “It’s…sort of like treasure hunting. But with words!”
Callum giggled at Harrow’s enthusiasm, finally returning the smile. Later, he would remember the kindness in his step-father’s eyes, and the obvious fatherly love that the man had for him.
“In treasure hunting, you have to look for little clues to tell you where the treasure is. It’s the same with people sometimes. When someone says something that they might not mean, you have to look at them, really look at them, Callum. When your mother called me an idiot, what did you see?”
Callum contemplated that for a moment. “She was smiling.” Harrow prodded him to go on. “And she was laughing.” The sudden realization hit him. “Oh! She didn’t mean it to be mean!”
“Exactly.” Harrow’s smile only grew, wrinkling the corners of his eyes. “Sometimes, when you love someone, you tell them using different words. Sometimes you don’t even have to use words at all. So when your mother looked at me and called me an idiot―”
“She was telling you that she loved you?” Callum finished, growing used to the idea.
Harrow nodded. “Yes, she was. But it’s important that you can determine when someone is telling you that they love you, and when they’re actually telling you what they mean.”
Callum’s smile turned into a frown, and he placed his palms flat against his sketchbook nervously. “But…how do I tell?”
“It…gets easier as you grow older. And sometimes you can’t. But when someone really, truly loves you, it will be clear how they really feel. Remember this, Callum: if you ever have someone you truly feel for, and she calls you an idiot with a laugh and a smile, you’re a lucky man.” Harrow paused for a moment. “But don’t ever mistake manipulation for love. Sometimes people do say what they really mean, in which case getting called an idiot won’t be as nice.”
Callum’s frown deepened. “This is confusing. How do you juggle all of that?”
Harrow smiled ruefully. “It gets easier with age. Some of it, at least.”
Callum nodded as he picked up his charcoal pencil once more, promising himself that he would understand it all one day.
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Callum was thinking about that memory as he moved his charcoal pencil across the pages of his sketchbook, ten years later. He felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he remembered the way his mother had watched her son and husband interact, silently grinning.
“What’s that smile for, sad prince?”
Callum looked up from his sketchbook to see Rayla smirking at him, holding one of her swords in one hand and a whetstone in the other. She was sitting across from him, on the other side of the campfire, and when he saw her, his heart did a little jig in his chest. The orange light of the campfire was dancing in her eyes and in her hair, and he was suddenly very thankful that his blush could be blamed on the heat of the fire.
He cleared his throat and reminded himself to answer. “I was just…thinking about my…parents.”
Her smirk transformed into a full smile. “Good memory?”
“The best.”
Zym’s head perked up at their conversation from where he was curled against Callum’s leg. The little dragon had grown over the past few weeks, not enough to be a problem when they had to hide him in Callum’s pack, but enough that Rayla had to start hunting to keep up with the dragon’s appetite.
Zym wasn’t the only one who had grown. Callum had finally hit a growth spurt, and was proud to say that he was nearly as tall as Rayla―not counting her horns, of course (they didn’t count, no matter how many times she smugly claimed otherwise!). It had only been around three months since they had left Katolis castle, but it felt like a lifetime ago. His newfound height was testament to that.
Rayla was the only one who hadn’t changed much. She still looked the same as she had when she had broken into the castle, give or take a few new scars on her arms from all the scuffles and battles they’d had on the way. If Callum were forced to say how she had changed, he would have to admit that he saw it in the way she carried herself. She seemed more comfortable with herself and her decisions, and was able to relax more easily whenever they set up camp for the night. Anyone else might not have noticed; he doubted Rayla herself had noticed. But he had realized it simply because, along with his height, he had grown a sixth sense wherever the Moonshadow elf was concerned over the past few weeks; he was always aware of her, no matter where they were or what they were doing. He figured it was part of having a best friend.
They were currently camped out in a small cave located just a few miles away from the entrance to the Midnight Desert, an obstacle none of them were eager to face. Even Callum, far away in Katolis, had heard horror stories about the Midnight Desert, and the dangerous creatures that dwelled there. As such, Rayla had decided it was best that they made sure to get plenty of rest before tackling the hazardous terrain the next day. They’d already filled all of their extra canteens with as much water as they would hold, and spent a good amount of time turning their leftover meat into preserved jerky for all three of them. Hopefully, it would be enough until they reached the first Earthblood elf settlement in the desert, where they could get more supplies.
Callum would be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous about the next task that lay ahead of them. When he was nervous, he liked to flip back to the pictures that he had drawn when he was young, and he especially liked to look at the more advanced drawings of the family portrait that he copied each year. It…helped him relax. It also made him think of Ezran, and what he could be doing in Katolis. That used to give him anxiety too, until he remembered that Ezran had the best advisors in Katolis helping him and that he was more than capable for a kid his age. So instead, when Callum looked at the family portrait, he thought of his mother and Harrow, and how they had both influenced him when he was young.
“Callum?” Rayla said, cocking an eyebrow at him. “You’re staring.”
Well, now his face was even hotter. He cleared his throat and pried his eyes away from her (beautiful) features.
“Sorry,” he offered awkwardly. “I was just…thinking.”
She smiled at him. “What’re you thinking about?”
He sighed, leaning his head on his hand as he looked at the fire. “Everything, I guess. Things have changed a lot.”
Rayla made a face at him before she flicked her blade back into its rest position, stowed away her whetstone, and crossed the campsite to sit next to him. “Now, what have I told you about bringing out the moody prince?"
Callum scoffed, though a smile crept its way onto his face. “I told you not to call me that!”
“And I told you to stop worrying so much, Callum.” Rayla gave him an encouraging smile and laid a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently. “We’re almost to the lair of the Dragon Queen. This is almost over.”
Zym cooed supportively, rubbing his tail over Callum’s knee. Callum couldn’t help but reach his hand out and scratch the young dragon behind the ears, Zym’s favorite spot. The cute little thing let out an adorable purr, and both Callum and Rayla laughed at Zym’s antics.
After a minute, Callum sighed again, and Rayla bumped her shoulder into his with one of her signature smiles.
“Hey,” she said. “Maybe try to think of something else? Try to get your mind off things before we head out tomorrow?”
Callum hummed in agreement, leaning backward so that his back rested against the cave wall as he stared into the flickering flames of the campfire. It took him a moment, but after a minute or two he was able to push the anxious thoughts out of his mind. Unfortunately, it left his mouth vulnerable to blurt out the first thing that popped into his head.
“Have you ever noticed that nothing is ever really on fire, but fire is always on things?”
A beat of silence as both Zym and Rayla stared at him. Then:
“Pft―” A roar of laughter exploded from Rayla’s mouth. Her shoulders shook as she guffawed, laughing so hard that she nearly fell over and had to put a hand on Callum’s knee to steady herself. Callum wasn’t quite sure why, but he couldn’t help himself from joining in, a victim of her contagious laughter.
“You―pfttt-hahaha―Callum, you’re such an idiot.”
Ba-dump.
Oh.
Oh.
Callum stopped laughing abruptly as the realization―or several of them, rather―smacked him square in the face.
Rayla had called him many things over the course of the time they’d known each other. She’d called him a dummy, she’d called him a fool, she’d called him a big, dumb human. But she’d never called him an idiot. Until now.
If you ever have someone you truly feel for, and she calls you an idiot with a laugh and a smile, you’re a lucky man , Harrow had said. Well, there was the (utterly adorable) laugh, and the (absolutely stunning) smile. And there was that little waltz Callum’s heart was doing in his chest.
All three seemed to be evidence enough, but there was even more. There was the strange little twinkle in Rayla’s violet eyes, like the look she’d had when introducing him to Xadia for the first time. There was the way her hand was still on his knee, sending tingling waves of warmth to his head and his heart. The strange way she seemed to be seeing him, not just his face.
And oh. Callum’s step-father had been right; he could see the hidden treasure behind her words, and it made him feel things. It felt like his heart had tripped into his ribcage in its desperation to escape his chest and jump into hers. He didn’t know how to put it into words, not really, but he understood the look in her eyes; he was sure that if someone were to hold up a mirror to his face, he would find the same expression on his face.
He wanted to hold her close, he wanted to tell her how beautiful she was, not just in that moment but all the time. He wanted to tell her how selfless she was, how she gave him courage whenever he felt weak. He wanted to…
“What?” Rayla suddenly asked, and he realized that her laughter had ceased some time ago. A red blush graced her skin. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Callum blinked at her. Then he leaned forward and kissed her.
Immediately, he could feel the shock roll off of her in waves, and she made a little surprised sound in the back of her throat that made him worry he’d misread things, overstepped his bounds.
Then he felt her relax, and her hands found their way to his upper arms to steady herself as she kissed him back.
And it was wonderful. One of his hands slid up to cup her cheek as the other intertwined itself with the hair at the back of her head, and she gently gripped his shoulders, her thumbs rubbing circles in the exposed skin at his collar. She kissed him as if she had been waiting for months to do just that, and maybe she had. All Callum knew was that he could stay in that exact moment for an eternity.
Eventually, though, his lungs had an annoying need for air. He pulled away, chest pumping just slightly. He rested his forehead against hers, his hand still resting on her cheek as if he were afraid she would pull away.
“Um,” Rayla said after a moment, eyes still closed, as if she were struggling to open them again. She managed it after a moment, her vibrant eyes staring into his. “Uh. What…what was that for?”
Callum smiled so widely that he feared happiness might crack his face open before pressing another, shorter kiss to her soft lips.
“I’m a lucky man,” he told her.