Chapter Text
Claudia 17
10.22AM, June 16th, 998AB, Storm Spire Plains, Xadia
Her father hadn’t stirred. He was alive. Breathing. If that was enough to qualify for being alive. Claudia wasn’t sure. She was however, sure that she couldn’t be inside that cave anymore right now, looking at her father’s unmoving body or the pulsing chrysalis that used to be his little bug pal or the corpse that-
No. She had to get out. Just for a bit. It was her birthday. She got to treat herself. Claudia stepped out of the cave, into light, misty rain. The sky was soft grey, not dark or menacing, but casting gentle ambient light across the grassland. She walked briskly away, not towards the river where she got water or towards the battlefield where she got spell components, just… Away.
As she ascended up the hillier edge of the plains, the grasslands turned into low bushy undergrowth, unnatural bright orange against the muted green of the grass.
She was drawn to a hint of blue, the color out of place against the bright thorny bush around it. Cloth. But not just any. Katolis make. Expensive color. Fine weave. Familiar. Callum’s.
It was part of a sleeve, almost shredded. What had done that? What had it done to the boy beneath? She had seen him, during the battle. Flashes of lightning without a primal stone. She had thought it wasn’t that important, that he had used some sort of artefact from the nexus, or sky sapphires or something.
But the look on Aaravos’ face when she had told him had been… hungry.
She was hungry too. The regular kind though.
But this was not that kind of birthday. There wouldn’t be any of Soren’s inedible scones or Ezran’s pile of back-up jellytarts for when people inevitably gave up on the scones, or Callum’s beautiful birthday cards.
17 was an important birthday in Katolis. The age of majority. She was an adult now.
So she put those thoughts where they belonged. Away.
Callum 15
6.32AM, July 15th, 998AB, The Storm Spire, Xadia
This was a really stupid way to start off your 15th birthday. It was going to be a good birthday too, he really didn’t have anything to be that sad about. Rayla was next to him, clamped onto his right arm in her sleep, her face adorably smushed into his shoulder. Ibis was teaching him a really cool mist spell today, because Rayla had told him it was his birthday and ordered him to be nice, since as a Dragonguard she was technically his superior, while he was at the Storm Spire. And really, nothing very bad had happened, and yet he was a weepy mess first thing in the morning.
And now he had woken up his tired girlfriend, who needed the sleep. She blinked at him, bleary-eyed, but when she saw his face she immediately shuffled closer to hug him, her hands and lips against his wet cheeks.
“Hey, why are you crying on your birthday?”
“Sorry. Supposed to be a good day, right? I just didn’t get a lot of sleep last night. Or the night before. And then I woke up, and Ez wasn’t here. He always woke me up on my birthday. He would sit on my stomach and bounce in a very uncomfortable way, and sing this terrible birthday song he made up until I got out of bed - literally just the word ‘happy birthday Callum’ repeated until the end of time.” And dad would join him with his actually good singing voice, terrible song aside… but he was not thinking of that when he had just stopped crying. “But he was only 3 years old when he made it up, so-”
“Hey. It’ll happen again. It’s not the end. Just… a break? Next birthday maybe, we’ll be in Katolis? Only fair.” She pressed close to him. “And for this one, I’ll stand in for Ez. If you want me to.” That tease in her voice… she definitely knew how to distract him.
“No! You straddling me would be a very different experience. I think the cognitive dissonance might end me.” He laughed, the lump in his throat gone. The heavy feeling gone too.
“Believe me, my singing voice is so horrible, even you wouldn’t be able to think those kinds of thoughts.”
“Try me.” He said, a challenge of his own. And Rayla never did back down from a challenge.
Her singing wasn’t really that horrible. Untrained. A bit off key. But really nice. To him at least. And the way she flushed just slightly, embarrassed at showing him something she was not good at, but showing him anyway… Yeah, not an effective deterrent for those kinds of thoughts. At all.
Rayla 16
8.39AM, July 31st, 998AB, The Storm Spire, Xadia
To Rayla of the Silvergrove, current address: The Storm Spire
It would please us greatly if you would join us for supper on the upcoming solstice. Our daughter has heard of your heroism and would like the chance to get to know you to ascertain if…
And there was a picture of the daughter in question, magically captured on the paper. She was beautiful and knew it, from the way she was smiling saucily and showing off her… assets.
“Callum, what do I do?” She was panicking. What were you supposed to say to this? She may officially be of marrying age as of today, but that didn’t mean she actually wanted- well, definitely not to any Sunfire elves she had never met.
This whole thing was absurd. Her own village had denied the petition Ethari had made to un-banish her and Lux Aurea was sending thinly veiled marriage proposals.
And it was because she had killed a person, which was- no. Not going there now. She had done it to save Zym, but she had inadvertently also avenged the attack on Lux Aurea, and since then there had been occasional letters of thanks, invitations for parties and dinners, gifts… But this was new. And horrible. “You could say you already have a boyfriend?” Callum sounded just a bit miffed, and she couldn’t blame him.
“That word doesn’t mean anything to elves, remember? I could go?” She smirked at him, a little wryly, letting him know she wasn’t serious. “I’m sure that girl will lose interest when she actually meets me, and aren’t just basing her supposed feelings on some embellished secondhand account-”
“I think you’re vastly underestimating how fanciable you are.” He grumbled.
She buried her head in her hands. She had no idea about Sunfire customs. Moonshadow elves would have never been this direct or aggressive about such a delicate subject. She had followed Moonshadow customs in response to a few dinner offers, denying their requests so subtly it could not be construed as rejection, but that had clearly been wrong, because they had read it as acceptance and followed up to set a date. But that was just offers of food and drink. This was offering a whole person. And she could not just ignore them, because she was one of the people responsible for this newborn peace, and offending Lux Aurea’s influential families would be a really dumb way to jeopardize what they’d-
“Hey.” His arms around her. He might have been annoyed, but he always put her first. She leaned into him. “You don’t have to deal with it right now. Surely these people don’t expect you to spend your birthday sorting through unwanted… offers?”
“It’s definitely not how I want to spend my birthday.”
“And that’s what matters. At least for today. I’ll write to Kazi, supposedly an expert on Sunfire culture and language. Janai gave me their contact information in case of exactly this type of thing. And we’ll put the letter away until we get their advice. Okay?”
“Okay. Yeah.”
“It’s not though? Okay, I mean. You want to talk about it?”
“No. It’s not okay. It’s all wrong that people who don’t know me are bending over backwards to offer me things and the people who do know me want nothing to do with me. It… hurts. Ethari… tried but…”
“I’m sorry. Your village don’t know what they’re missing. I don’t get it. But the appeal has already been sent, along with letters from three monarchs urging the council to reconsider. It’ll pass.”
“And when it does? That just means they caved to political pressure. Not that anyone but Ethari wants me to come home. I don’t know if I want to go home. I don’t know if it is home. Even though I still think of it that way, it’s like… a habit. An instinct that doesn’t fit reality anymore, like-” Like when Callum forgot he could fly and just stood there, trying to figure out how to scale cliffs or climb trees.
“Rayla.” Deep and familiar voice.
She looked up, vision blurry but… it was him. “Ethari!” She threw herself at him. “You’re here,” she hiccupped.
“It’s your birthday. Of course I am.”
“No… I mean- I can see you. I thought the village voted against it?”
“They did. I broke my part of it.” That was taboo. An individual did not go back on a vow made collectively. Ethari would be a social pariah for years, and he had already lost his family. She didn’t know what to say to that, just squeezed him tighter.
Amaya 34
9.09PM, August 21st, 998AB, Lux Aurea, Xadia
Happy birthday. Janai signed. Clumsy but… it was sweet. She was sweet under the aggression and the denial. Janai was shy beneath the bluster and temper. It was a good thing Amaya wasn’t, or nothing would have ever come of the very obvious attraction between them.
Come here. She smirked, and gestured her closer, a mirror of back on a rooftop at the Breach, when they had been enemies. Now the gesture meant something very different. Janai reached up to remove the heavy golden crown, before stepping closer. The weight of it did not leave her however. Amaya’s hand swept along the beautiful, strong lines of her cheek and neck to settle on her shoulder. What is wrong? She asked.
It was a long day. Janai let her shoulders slump, as she never would have with the crown on. And I’m not a good fit for a queen. She signed.
A strange fit, maybe. Not the same as not good. WE are a very strange fit, no? And not just because our parts don’t interlock. She made a gesture with her hands that made Janai blush as she knew it would, sweet tinge across her dark cheeks. She reached out to her hand to intertwine their fingers. But some of our parts do interlock. Some times, you just have to look harder to find the fit. Maybe you are not a good fit for a queen, but you are GOOD. You look past the surface before judging, before deeming someone useless. Or lesser than. That part fits a queen of this new world. Janai was not a fluent signer, although she was improving fast. She was not sure she got all of it. She should probably sum it up in simple words.
I like the way you fit the throne. Fit the world. Fit me.
Soren 19
2.12AM, January 19th, 999AB, Katol Keep, Katolis
Soren felt the effect of ale number eleven too keenly, as he steadied himself against the bale of hay at the back of the stables. Hay was the best. Especially nice sturdy bales of it like this one.
Oh. His boss was sitting on the hay, smiling sweetly down at him. Ezran did like it here, he knew. But it was… late. And the king was hanging out in the stables alone. And he was a Crownguard. A drunk and pretty terrible Crownguard.
“Hi Ezran. Sorry, I’m… not really fit for Crownguard duties right now?”
“I know. It’s your day off tomorrow because it’s your birthday. Actually, it’s your birthday today, since it’s after midnight. So happy birthday! Anyway, you’re not my Crownguard right now. That’s okay.”
“If you’re here on your own, it’s really not.”
“The horses are here?”
“Doesn’t count. They’re not part of the Crownguard. And they’re also horses. But mostly the first one.”
“Can’t I hire new Crownguards?”
“Uh. Yes? Since you’re… the crown.”
“Great!” Ezran turned to the horse next to him. “Bella! I hereby pronounce you honorary Crownguard. Your pay will be extra scritches and a carrot, when I remember to bring them. So I’m fine now Soren. You can go to bed. You look pretty tired.” Bella the horse nuzzled Ezran’s ear with her soft muzzle. “Or you can stay here with me as a friend. Not a Crownguard.”
“I’ll do that. The last one.” He said without hesitation. He wouldn’t be hanging out in the stables if his empty bed in the barracks held any attraction to him. He had kind of hoped his bed would not be empty tonight, but no luck, he had struck out pretty definitively. “Must be nice, being Callum. Bed hardly ever empty.” Oops, he had said that last bit out loud.
He glanced at Ezran. The boy did not look scandalized. “Yeah, I miss sharing a room with Callum. My bed is Rayla’s bed now. Officially anyway. Unofficially, her bed is Callum’s bed, like you said. And my dad’s bed is my bed now. It’s like musical chairs. Or musical beds.” The boy looked down sadly. Here he was complaining about an empty bed because he had struck out at the tavern, and this poor kid’s bed was empty because his dad was dead. His dad was dead too. But that was different. He was an adult, or supposed to be, at least.
“I’m sorry. That must suck.” Oops. You were not supposed to use language like that in front of little kids. Or little kings. “Sorry. I swear more when I’m drunk. Do you think you could forget I said that?”
“Said what?” Ezran winked. “Anyway, you don’t have to worry about that. I know way worse words than that. And you’re not my Crownguard right now, Bella has clocked in. So there’s no rules for what kind of words you have to use. You heard any good ones at the tavern tonight? I’m always trying to learn new ones. I teach them to Aanya, and in return she teaches me the fancy politic-y words.”
“Aanya. Queen Aanya?” She was so proper.
“Yeah. She’s cool. She knows a lot of words, but she says uh… ‘her insight into colloquialisms is comparatively insubstantial’. That means she doesn’t know enough swear words, basically. So I’m helping her out. So, you heard any?” The kid looked so hopeful. And that was the sweetest reason he had ever heard for learning swear words.
“Well, Sigrid called me an ‘ass with ears’ today. Never heard that one before. Not the best I’ve heard though. Uh, I am gonna have to not tell you the really bad ones.” Nothing with… sex stuff. Or anti-elf stuff. That did rule out quite a lot. “And you also can’t tell Callum. Okay. Here goes. Reverted bumhole. Moldy skid mark. Wilted crotch weed. Dangling pubic berries. Sweet candied Banther balls-”
“Ooh, I know that one!” Ezran looked triumphant. “The others are new though! Thank you! It’s really hard to learn new ones, everyone’s always so careful what they say around me. Sometimes it really does suck. Being king.”
“Is that why you’re down here? To… not be king for a while?” The not-king-right-now looked down. Oh. He put his foot in something. But when Ezran looked up, his blue eyes were hopeful, and he was smiling.
“Soren? Would you like to sleep in my bed? It’s really big. There too much room. I don’t care if you snore, or you’re hungover tomorrow. I’ll order the fluffy omelets you like, and bread and lots of butter for breakfast and extra jellytarts, and we can have a birthday party in my room. As not-King and not-Crownguard.”
“Yeah. That sounds really nice.”
Ezran 11
5.29AM, March 19th, 999AB, Katol Keep, Katolis
Taps against his window led Ezran to the land of the living somewhat prematurely. It was definitely still night. Or maybe very early morning? Either way, it was no time to be anywhere but in bed.
Taps. Again. Ezran looked out the window, and felt half a second of instinctive panic before the laughter overtook him.
With the brown wings and the owl mask, half obscured in the dim of pre-dawn, Callum might have looked scary if the whole thing wasn’t so funny. He forgot the barely lightening sky and that he didn’t actually have to get up for hours. The fake beak of the mask tapped at his window again.
There was a note on the floor in pretty green ink, pushed through the crack.
Dear Ezran,
Happy birthday! Follow your wizard guide, and he will take you on a magical journey beyond your wildest taffy-hippo dreams!
Ezran opened the window to let in his dorky owl-brother, and was immediately engulfed in a feathery hug. Wing hugs were the best, even this early in the morning.
“What’s all this about?” He asked, laughing happily. Whatever it was about, it would be fun.
“It’s not everyday your young man turns 11, is it?” Callum said, affecting someone older with a much deeper voice. Was that supposed to be his owl-voice?
“Why are you talking like that? Owls don’t talk like that,” Ezran giggled.
“Owls are old and wise. Everyone knows that!”
“They’re really not. Crows are way smarter. Owls have really tiny brains under all those feathers. I guess it suits-”
“Hey! Respect your owl messenger young whippersnapper!” Callum’s old-man or old-owl voice was so bad it was… well, not good, but definitely hilarious.
“Sorry. It’s really, really early. And it’s my birthday. I get to be a brat on my birthday.” He stuck out his tongue at his owl-brother.
“Yes. It’s your birthday until noon. Then it’s the king of Katolis’ birthday. Processions, delegates to greet… pomp and circumstance. You get it now?” He got it. He got it way too much. A whole morning of just being Ez was the best gift he could have possibly gotten. His chest filled with bubbly excitement. And Rayla had definitely been involved in the plan, so it would be epic!
“Yes! I have six hours of Ez’s birthday!”
“Exactly! And you’re invited!” Callum spread his wings out impressively, reminding Ezran of this particularly pompous and flamboyant Duren ambassador, when he introduced people or things. Or the snack table. Or the new carriages. Or- Never mind.
“Uh, duh. Of course I’m invited to my own birthday.”
“Shush, I’m trying to be theatrical. Rayla should have done this bit but she’s busy with the preparations, and I can only carry one of you anyway.” Callum straightened up, displacing the ridiculous owl mask a bit. That seemed to remind him of something. He dispelled the wings to pull off the owl mask, and retrieved a somewhat squished pointy hat to replace it, like the evil elven sorcerers wore in the storybooks. Primal mages, he corrected himself. Not evil sorcerers. He should commission some new storybooks. The hats could stay though. Wizard hats were cool. Not on Callum, true, but Callum was a coolness deterrent, that didn’t count. In general, they were cool. “I’m no longer your owl messenger! I’m your wizard guide! Here to carry you to a magical-” Callum managed to control airflow while talking, to whip his cloak up dramatically. Okay, that was actually pretty cool. “-birthday adventure!”
“Will there be cake? Or adoraburrs? Or pumpkin juice?” He bounced excitedly on the balls of his feet.
“Pumpki- Why would anyone want that? And it’s spring, what pumpkins?”
“It just sounded magical for some reason.”
“There’s… juice. We can pretend it’s made from pumpkins.” Callum relented.
“That works!”
“Then, let us step into the night and pursue that flighty temptress, adventure.” Callum proclaimed dramatically. He definitely got that from a book, he was not that eloquent. But it didn’t matter.
Adventure was afoot!
Viren 46
12.54PM, April 11th, 999AB, The Midnight Desert, Xadia
He saw them in the distance. Shapes. Husks. Like him.
The sun beat down on the dark sand, he could see it affecting Claudia. He did not feel it like she did, he was still… affected, but it was like watching his own struggles from the outside. Unpleasant, but not personal. Like most of his experiences now.
But Claudia was struggling in her dark robes, her boots so worn the sand must be burning her through the soles. This was not right. He had succeeded for almost 17 years to let her do what was her right untethered from guilt and shame. It was her right as his child to have what she wanted. Easy and unburdened. And he had failed at that. He saw both the burden and the guilt in her now. His efforts to provide the world and the resources they deserved had only increased the struggle.
“Hey dad. How much further?” She was gasping for breath, dry hot air all she was getting. This desert was like the world Harrow had offered him, barren, resources far between, requiring struggle and sacrifice to get. It was wrong that it was like this. He had seen the shadow of what he thought had been a very large bird earlier, but upon closer inspection, it had been a Skywing elf, off in the distance, soaring above the hot sands and the husks and the serpents and the struggle of humanity. That was how it was supposed to be. Ease and grace. The world beneath you, ripe for the harvest.
“Not too much further. The Oasis is up ahead. Don’t worry. This is the hard part.” It always was. Getting the resources was hard. Everything else was easy.
Zym 1
2.46PM, May 21st, 999AB, The Storm Spire, Xadia
“Hey Zym.” His favorite Dragonguard. Zym yipped to greet her. Rayla. He had been trying to say it, Ray-la, but words were hard. Easy in his head and hard when saying them. She leant against him. He wanted to get into her lap, but everyone told him he was too big, so that must be true. He was too big.
He yipped again. Stared firmly at Rayla. She didn’t understand. She understood he was sad they were leaving, because she hugged him. But she didn’t understand he wanted to come. He could carry her now. Not far, but he could. And he could fly to Katolis, and meet Ezran again. He was better at flying than Callum. Callum got tired faster, because he wasn’t a dragon meant for flying. “We’ll be back, okay Zym. But there are things we need to do. We need to make a world for you to live in, me and Callum. And we can’t do that from here.”
He nuzzled her hair and whined. Cocked his head, a question. She understood. “You can’t come Zym, I’m sorry. You need to stay with your mum.” It had been fun, travelling with her and Callum and his very first friend, Ezran. He was still in his egg, and his mom hadn’t talked to him in months, he had been all alone. And Ezran, Ez, had talked to him, and told him he was going to be okay, and that him and his friends were taking him back to his mom. And they had. But Ez had to go, and be king like he did, except Ez didn’t have a mom like him, so he had to be king now, and not when he was bigger. Ezran sent letters sometimes, full of fun stories about the people in the castle where he lived, far away. Callum or Rayla read them to him, because words on paper were even harder than words in his mouth.
He cocked head in question again. “Isssss,” he said, a kind of hissing noise. It wasn’t right. It was supposed to be Ez. It wasn’t right, he couldn’t even say it, and he missed his friend so much. “Issss.”
Rayla cupped his cheeks. “What are you trying to say Zym?” Patient. That was hard for her. But she was almost always patient with him. Kind. That was easy for her. She was kind to almost everyone, except the mean Dragonguard, who said her and Callum were an abo-mi-na-tion. He didn’t know that word, but it had made Rayla very angry and sad when she heard, so he didn’t like it.
“Issss.” It still wasn’t right. “Esssss.” Closer! He looked excitedly at Rayla. Her face lit up. She understood!
“Ez?” she asked, a wide smile spreading on her face.
He nodded. “Yeah. We’re going to go see Ez. And he’ll be so happy to hear you said his name! I know you miss him. Callum and I don’t understand what you’re saying like he does.” He licked her face, only a little zappy. Her and Callum understood what he was saying better than almost anyone except his mom. And understood what he was feeling, sometimes better than his mom. She smiled at him and scratched his mane like he liked it, understanding his feelings, like always. “Thanks Zym. I try.”
Claudia 18
5.21PM, June 16th, 999AB, Bronach Foothills, Xadia
“Claudia. It is your birthday today.” She had stopped wondering how Aaravos knew things. He just did. Especially the things she didn’t want him to. “You’re wondering about what it would be like, this birthday, if you had made a different choice. It is natural to want these things, customary for birthdays. Good food. Fizzy drinks. Fun. Company.” The way he said ‘company’ was so suggestive, even she got what he meant, and she knew she usually needed these kinds of things spelled out for her.
“It’s not really important though. When it’s nothing I can have it’s just a waste of energy.” She said. She was not in the mood for his games today.
“Ahhh. But you can.” Aaravos said, all smoothness. “That’s the point. You can have anything you desire. There is another thing that is customary for birthdays. Gifts. And I have one for you.”
His hand was soft and warm on hers, and if she didn’t look at it, she could pretend it was human and not whatever Aaravos was now. Giant bugpal?
The magic washed over her, balmy feeling, moon primal then. An illusion. She felt it, the tactile part of it. The slight weight on her skull. She reached up her hands to feel the new horns, rough texture, graceful shape flowing backwards from the crown of her head, feel her ears now tapering to a point.
She looked at her hands. Four fingers. Purplish tone to the pale skin. Swirling purple markings along the backs of her hands. She touched a strand of hair, still white, but not the limp textured, matte absence of pigment resulting from dark magic use, but shiny, luminous white, like Rayla’s had been. He had made her Moonshadow. Of all the elf races, why? But she knew why. And Aaravos knew why. His gifts were never simple.
“There is a large Earthblood settlement a few miles away, as you know. It has multiple establishments you might enjoy. I will tell your father you are out foraging. See you tomorrow morning. Have… fun.”
Callum 16
11.59PM, July 15th, 999AB, Katol Keep, Katolis
“Soren!” Callum hung onto Soren’s arm. He was nice and sturdy. That was good, because the world was all weird and spinny for some reason.
“Hey buddy. How many cups of cider have you had?” Soren asked. He sounded a bit worried, which was weird because this was a party…
“Pfff, that’s not important!” Soren really was silly sometimes. Who wanted to do complicated math right now? And he didn’t have enough fingers anyway, even with the pinkos. And there were waaaay more important things. Soren should know. It was… pertinent information. “You know… I jus’… really love my girlfriend. She’s like this… delicious jellytart. The most delicious and sweet thing of jam you could imagine, with the crunchiest crust. You know I like the crusts crunchy?”
“Uh, Rayla is a jellytart? I’m not sure I’m following you here.”
“IT’S A METAPHOR!” Wow, his voice was loud.
“Shut it, loud mage! It’s midnight, no one still awake cares about metaphors!” The delicious jellytart in question shouted at him from the other side of the room.
“Sweet. Yeah. I see that.” Soren said. He sounded weird though, like he was imitating his jellytart when she was all crust. “Uh, that was sarcasm by the way. Did it work? I’ve been practicing!”
“Yeah! That was really, really amazing Soren! Anyway, it’s a metaphor.” He whispered. “Like, the crust is this confidence and… and bravado thing she does. All backflippy and smirky and pretty. But under the confidence crust, there’s this sweet, soft, mushy jelly of sweetness. The way she smiles at me in the morning, when she’s just woken up and maybe the crust hasn’t finished baking yet, so it’s easier to see. But I can see it all the time. Jus’ have to look.”
“Wow, that’s actually really nice.” Soren said, smiling all doofy and longing. He should really help Soren find his own jellytart-person. Or maybe a jellytart would not be right for Soren? Maybe he needed someone where the mushiness was easier to see, because Soren sometimes didn’t manage see beneath the surface, though he was trying to. But there should be something strong at the core, because Soren needed someone to bear his weight when he was sad, and he was sooo heavy. One of those pretty cheesecakes from Duren, with the softly whipped cream on top but crunchy caramel and nuts at the bottom.
Yeah. When the world stopped spinning, he would have to find Soren a cheesecake-person.
Rayla 17
11.29AM, July 31st, 999AB, Katol Keep, Katolis
Rayla awoke to an achy body and head, her mood somehow tanked before the day had even begun. The sun through the windows was almost at zenith. Stupid blood loss. She had slept way too long.
“Happy birthday!” Callum sounded annoyingly chirpy this morning. Or noon, as it were. “How are you feeling? I’ll go get you breakfast, just tell me what you’d like.”
He leant over her to press his lips to hers, but leaning no weight on her, his touch light and gentle. Frustratingly so. Even his kiss was gentle, sweet and careful, but not what she wanted right now.
“Agh. Let’s just get going.” She said, pushing herself upright with a wince. He didn’t deserve her grumpiness, but she was failing miserably at putting on a happy face. “Stuff to do, right? The delegates are leaving today and we should go-”
“What? No. You’re on bedrest, the doctor said.” His hands found her shoulders, but his touch was still light. He would never try to physically stop her, even though her body was such a stupid floppy thing right now that he could have very easily.
“For a few days, the doctor said. It happened a few days ago. So I’m good.”
“It happened late in the evening, the day before yesterday. By the time the doctor told you ‘a few days’ it was past midnight. So you were told that yesterday. It has not been a few days.”
“A few days is between one and two. So it has.” She crossed her arms over her chest. The movement hurt as it tore at the stitches, but damnit he didn’t have to know that.
But he noticed. He always did. She didn’t want to hide things from him, he was just so fussy sometimes, and- “No. A few days is at least two. Ask anyone! It’s usually two to three, but it’s definitely not one! And the doctor didn’t say ‘a few days’ he said ‘at least a few days’ and that absolutely does not, in any conceivable way, translate to one day.” He was getting heated now.
“That’s just conjecture,” she said.
“Could you please just relent, for once in your life, so we don’t have to argue? You’re hurt and it’s your birthday. Do you really think I want to argue with you? Because I promise that I don’t. But your well-being is a lot more important than you being annoyed with me. And in this case, you can name absolutely anyone, and I’ll bring them here, and they’ll agree with me.” He had gone over to the window, opening it. “Oi! Corvus! How many days are a few days?” He shouted.
“Two or three!” Came Corvus’ exasperated voice from the open window.
“See? Corvus is an unbiased and sensible third party.” He said stubbornly, even as his cheeks reddened at what he had just done.
“I don’t want to spend my birthday in bed. Not like this, anyway, a useless wet rag, and you barely daring to touch me.” Her eyes were stinging. This was silly and childish and she knew it. And she was worrying him more, she could tell. And now the sting in her eyes were wetness on her cheeks, and that was guaranteed to make him fold immediately which was just not fair when she was the one being unreasona-
He pulled her to him, hard enough to hurt. He noticed though, like he always did, and loosened his grip, but a least it was still a firm hold and not the too-careful delicacy of the past day. Days that was. Few days… ah fuck it. Day. Singular. She buried her face in the crook of his neck. His hands across her hair and back, comfort she didn’t deserve. “Hey. What’s the real reason?” He asked gently. She knew what the reason was. It was at the edge of her consciousness, she had carefully not looked directly at it, but-
“I messed up… in front of all those people. They’re leaving today, and I have to fix how they see me.” Didn’t he get that? It wasn’t like she cared personally, but you had to care a little bit, when you were trying to openly date the crown prince. She was being judged all the time, and messing up her dodge, getting blood all over the fancy dance floor and some surprisingly understanding noblewoman’s dress, and then disappearing for multiple days, just because she got mildly stabbed… that was not the impression she had wanted to give.
“There’s nothing to fix! You saved Ez, their king, you got hurt doing it, how is there anything wrong with that?!” He was all indignant on her behalf now, like he got sometimes, but he didn’t quite get it. That there was indeed something wrong with that. She wasn’t sure she did either, not all the way. She just felt it. A vague feeling of not fitting what people wanted of her. It was okay though. His opinion was more important than foreign nobles’. And she didn’t want to argue with him anymore either or make him worry. And she really didn’t feel very good. She kissed his neck lightly. He kissed the top of her head.
“Okay.” She relented. “I’ll stay in bed. It’s not fair though, you got to have fun on your birthday.” She grumbled. She had to put him at ease, since she was responsible for the tension and worry still in his body. Complaining about something petty and unimportant was a good way to do it. And her heart was lifting anyway, just because his arms were such a very nice place to be.
“I had a bit too much fun.” A smile was tugging at his lips. “And it will be fun. Sedentary fun is not your favorite, I know, but give it a chance, okay? I found a book you’ll really like, it has all kinds of gruesome dismemberment. And Ez is coming as soon as he’s bid the delegates goodbye, and he’s bringing boardgames and jellytarts - moonberry flavored, special order! And there are gifts. And one of those delegates you claim won’t like you, sent you expensive Evenerean chocolate, and because it’s your birthday I didn’t eat any of it even though you slept for a really long time, so can we please have some now? I’ve been waiting hours,” he whined dramatically, but smiling against her ear.
“Really? You want a boyfriend-of-the-year award for not eating my chocolate for a couple of hours? And not for leaping off a mountain?” She grinned widely at him, her bad mood just a memory now.
“That was more than a year ago now. Got to enter new feats of heroism for this year’s competition.” He said in mock self-importance, drawing back to kiss her. His hand at her waist was still careful, light touch with no tugging at her, avoiding the bandages, but his lips were firm and passionate against hers. Really, there was no competition. None at all.
And as sedentary fun went, even as birthdays went, his plan sounded… really good.
Amaya 35
8.31PM, August 21st, 998AB, Forest of Eagallach, Xadia
Gren handed her the flask. The good stuff. Happy birthday general. It’s my pleasure to spend it with you again. They had spent the last… oh she was getting old, because Gren had been too young for the good stuff on the first of her birthdays they had spent together, and he was 25 now. Many birthdays, was the point. Except her last one, where she had been in Lux Aurea with Janai. How was your last birthday? Gren asked, understanding what she said and not said as unfailingly as ever.
Good. Good food. Good company. Gren smiled widely at this. More… festive mood. Less worry. The rumors they were investigating here were… sinister. They had seen the signs of dark magic use earlier today, a whole section of forest withered and blackened, plants and trees still there, but the life gone, only husks remaining.
One of their elven scouts, Aeni, had yet to return. She was trustworthy, Janai had assured her when she assigned a few handpicked soldiers to her, to help investigate this. And there were no taverns or other distractions around, nothing but forest. She could have run afoul of hostile wildlife, but… no. She should have made it back. She was not the only one feeling this way either. The company was small enough that the absence of one was felt, especially Aeni, who used to sing for them every night. She liked it when Aeni sang, though she could not hear it, she liked seeing the change that it brought across the faces of the people who could - the rapt attention, the wondrous soft smiles. The faces were different now. The mood different. The forest felt threatening in a way it had not yesterday.
Gren’s face was as cheerful as ever. To almost anyone, that was. Not to her. He was 17 when he was assigned as her translator. He had grown up an only child with just his deaf father, until his father had died and Gren went directly into her service because he had nowhere else to go. She had learned to see it, the most minute cracks in the cheerfulness. There had been fewer, as the years passed, but they were there tonight.
Gren did not say what she already knew, that it was Viren. Or Claudia. But probably both. There was nothing definitive, but a lot of small things adding up until there was only one possible piece left that fit. Viren.
Here’s aged-up character designs for the main trio. There’s a timeskip of 18 months, so I based height predictions based on that and their starting heights and ages from the chart at the website.
