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Chapter Text

The original Strays of Spalla were off to the side when they made camp, laughing, singing and sharing a few drinks among themselves. Ironically, in Meve's makeshift army gathered from all over, they and the dwarves of Mahakam were the two most unified groups. When they saw Meve approach, some of them grumbled and hid the drinks like they were afraid she would take the bottles and order them all to sleep. Another day she might have, but today her mind was heavy with what the destruction she saw at the cemetery, and she didn't think picking a fight with Gascon's men would be the best way to apologize to the man.

"Where did Gascon disappear to?" she asked simply, choosing not to comment on anything else. If they didn't break this up soon, Reynard would talk to them either way.

At first only shrugs were her answers, then one of the young women - she could only be a few years older than Villem, Meve though bitterly - gestured in the man's supposed direction. "Went off that way, last I saw him. Didn't seem like he wanted company, though. He barely looked at me when I told him to come over."

Meve nodded in thanks and started off in the direction shown, but she didn't get very far before she heard footsteps behind her. She turned around in slight irritation and came to face with the same young woman, looking bashful.

"Your Majesty, a moment please?"

Meve gestured for her to go on and racked her brain for the girl's name. It was either Bonnie or Fanny - Gascon had mentioned both of them before, but Meve had trouble linking the names to faces. Maybe she should have paid more attention, she thought guiltily, remembering one of her first real conversation with Gascon where she had no idea how much her guards were paid, and Gascon told her off for it - rather gently for him, in fact.

Bonnie-or-Fanny took a few more moments to gather her courage. "Well, it's just... Gascon said, ma'am, that you said that you would help us find jobs, us Strays I mean, once this is over. He said that you said that if I behaved myself, I could join the royal hunters, ma'am, and work with the hunting dogs."

This one had to Bonnie, then. Meve mentally patted herself on the shoulder for figuring that out. "I did say that, yes."

"It's just that, I would very much like that, ma'am, I think."

Meve forced a smile despite her foul mood. "Fear not, then. Once this war is over, I'll find you a place. I'd rather find all of you something than have you return to robbing my subjects." Gascon included, although he didn't look very enthusiastic about any option she presented to him so far. That worried her, but it was something to worry about later. Bonnie mumbled something she couldn't understand, but it seemed she had no more questions, so Meve waved her goodbye and went to look for Gascon.

She knew she was going in the right direction when she got away from all the people and heard faint singing from a little further away. It was a depressing ballad that she thought she heard being sung by peasants in the parts devastated by the war, about longing for the freedom to have wings and fly away. Meve tracked the sound to a half-ruined shed, with some crates stacked against its side that almost looked like they were put there to help someone climb on the roof.

"Gascon?"

The singing stopped, and Meve sighed. She considered just leaving him be, if he clearly wanted to be alone, but she hated to go to sleep without knowing where they stood.

"I'm coming up."

There was no answer, but she stepped on the crates and looked for the best way to pull herself up anyway. She was just about to grab on to the edge of the roof when one of the crates broke under her foot. Gascon's hand shot out to grab on to her arm and pull her up.

"Careful there. This shed has seen better days, I think."

She sighed as she settled down next to Gascon, then frowned at the mess around him. "You've been... peeling apples?"

He shrugged, raising an apple to show her. "I've been carving them. It gives me something non-violent to do with a knife."

"Are you feeling violent?"

Gascon let out a sigh and set the knife in his other hand down. "A little. But don't worry, I'm not stupid enough to raise a knife at you."

Meve shifted to find a more comfortable position, and their shoulders bumped together. "I'm happy to spar, if it would help you get some frustration out."

He laughed at that. "No, thank you. Getting my ass beaten by you once was more than enough." There was a small pause before he added, "In the fighting context, at least."

She generously decided to ignore that. "Listen, I just wanted to say..." She knew what she wanted to say, but she also knew how silly it sounded. She had already made arrangements and provided the coin for restoring the Brossard family crypt, but it didn't feel like that was enough, after everything Gascon had done. He deserved more for sticking with her through that awful swamp alone. "If there is anything else I can do to make it up to you..."

Gascon waved his hand dismissively. "Oh, you know. Half your kingdom, the hand of the princess in marriage, those are traditional."

Meve rolled her eyes. "I only have two princes, I'm afraid."

"Eh, fine. I'll settle for the Queen's hand, then."

He said it so earnestly that it made Meve's heart skip a beat. "I'm serious, Gascon," she hissed to cover her cheeks reddening like a girl.

"What makes you think I wasn't?"

The worst thing was that it felt serious, the way he said it, and from the silence that settled between them, they both knew it.

After a few more moments, Gascon smiled in a way that looked obviously forced. "Oh, I'm not, of course. I would hate to do that to Reynard, first of all."

There was really not much she could say to that. Meve leaned against Gascon's side in silence, and they sat there until the noises of the army camp gradually died down.

Chapter Text

"If there is anything else I can do to make it up to you..."

Gascon waved her off. "Meve, you wanted to hang me before this all began. You can offer me anything, but you know very well your Council is not going to support you giving me land or title."

Meve scoffed. "As if I care for the opinion of men who sold our country and stabbed me in the back."

"So what are you going to do, execute them all?"

Meve blinked at the harshness in Gascon's words. "Of course not!" she forced out. "I would never... I would have them arrested, strip them of their ranks, but I wouldn't..." Gascon's face softened, but now Meve could feel the lump in her throat. "I understand if you won't forgive me for this."

Gascon shook his head. "You're not the one who gave the order, Meve."

"But I didn't try very hard to stop it, did I?"

With a frustrated motion, Gascon knocked the hat off his own head to run a hand through his hair. "Are you trying to get me to hate you?" When Meve didn't answer, he got up and looked down at her from a step away. "That is what you're doing, aren't you? Would that make it easier for you? Well, I'm sorry if my feelings are an inconvenience for the Great Queen Meve of Lyria and Rivia!"

Meve glared at him. "You're crossing a line, Gascon," she warned.

Gascon laughed, and this time it sounded bitter. "That's the other thing you keep doing. You come here like you're my friend, say you're concerned, and then you threaten to flog me when I dare criticize you about something. Well, I hate to tell you, but that's not how a friendship works." He took an angry step towards the edge of the small roof, then back. "No wonder you don't know, with Reynard being your only one. Gods know he would never raise his voice at you. He talks about how proud he was to serve your husband, too."

Meve could feel hand forming a fist in anger, but that last sentence made her pause. "That's what this is about? Gascon, you do know Reynard became Reginald's right-hand man for critiquing him?"

"Critiquing his battle tactics! That is not his character! That is not..." Gascon stopped like saying the words would have hurt too much. Meve imagined that was true. She stood up herself, crossing her arms.

"Reynard didn't approve of that mess any more than I did, and he had even less power to stop it. Be mad at me all you like, but don't you dare bring him into this!"

"Your Majesty?"

The voice from below them felt like cold water being poured over Meve's head. From the look on his face, Gascon felt similarly.

Reynard cleared his throat awkwardly. "I just came to say that... that your voices carry quite far."

The feeling of cold water was replaced by the feeling of hot shame washing over her. She remembered when she scolded Gascon and Reynard for fighting in front of the troops like children, and now here she was, doing almost the same thing.

"Thank you, Reynard," Meve said meekly. Gascon avoided her eyes, and maybe that was for the best. "I will... climb down now. Gascon, just... come back whenever it suits you." She turned to climb down, then paused for a moment. "But do come back," she said. She would hate to lose him over this argument. She waited until she saw Gascon nod and wave at her to go, then jumped down from the roof and joined Reynard with a frown.

"Let's go," she said quietly, hoping Reynard would not ask what the argument was about.