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Cassian ignored the dirty looks the other kids and teenagers shot him as he pushed his way through the crowd to see the heir of the Night Court, Rhysand the half-breed the camp lords and leaders sneered all week, the other warriors whispered. Cassian was curious to see the infamous heir, to see who he’d one day be fighting for.
Cassian stood at the front of the crowd, a boy- Rhysand- stood facing the crowd shifting nervously on his feet. Blue-black hair and fancy leathers that Cassian assumed were also fleece-lined, he hated the heir of the Night Court right then and there, who had the nerves to look scared, like he was two seconds away from shitting those brand new fancy pants.
Cassian looked over his shoulder at one of the camp lords, who too looked unimpressed by the heir. Devon cleared his throat, his eyes locked on Rhysand’s. “Don’t you all have training exercises to do?”
Cassian saw the young heir gulp, looking among the group to see what the first exercise would be. No one moved, reminding Cassian of his first day here, his first day of training. No one to help him, everyone male for himself. It was a stalemate between Rhysand and everyone else, no one moving, just like Cassian’s first day. Maybe it was pity, or the anger he had at the world but Cassian turned and started running. He could deal with the consequences later, with whatever punishments the camp lords would do, the other males, he could take them.
“Thank you.” Rhysand caught up to Cassian. Cassian just shook his head.
“I didn’t do it for you.” Cassian muttered back, pushing himself to go faster just as the other males were at their heels and threatening to pass them up. He didn’t give the young heir a chance to reply.
He didn’t see the young heir during the run, he was tempted a few times to turn his head to see where he fell among the group, if he was struggling to earn a place towards the front, middle, or more likely, was in the back fighting the urge to just quit. He, however, did see him after the run, hands on his knees and struggling to catch his breath. He scowled at the heir, he wanted to shout at him to not let the others see him like this. It would just egg them on, make things far worse for him. It was like Rhysand heard his thoughts because he straightened his spine, scowling back at Cassian, giving him a look as if to say he was fine, he didn’t need his help or advice.
After the run they stretched. Cassian made sure to put as many males between him and Rhysand as possible, the two standing directly across from each other in the circle. Rhysand, kept his eyes on the bastard, the only one who would give him some sort of clue as to what to do next, no one spoke out loud, getting a kick at watching the heir fail. It wasn’t that Cassian wanted to help him out now, it was just muscle memory and so Cassian glared at Rhysand as he started to stretch, Rhysand easily following along, keeping his eyes on Cassian to make sure he didn’t miss a stretch. The two males glared at each other, an arm across their chests with the other arm holding it in place; that was when Cassian decided he was going to fight Rhysand for his clothes.
—-------
Rhysand decided he really didn’t like being Illyrian, or rather half Illyrian. Everyone whispered insults as he passed, snickering. They looked at him like he was going to be their next meal. He might very well be. He knew they were all itching to fight him, but was the one with long, shaggy hair and fierce hazel eyes who’d been watching him the entire day was the one to actually do it. He pushed Rhysand into the sparring ring he was waiting all day and finally, finally this was his chance.
“Winner gets the other’s clothes.” He said, pushing Rhysand to the ground, a bloodthirsty grin on his mouth.
“I don’t think I’ll have any use for the rags you wear.” Rhysand growled back, the male threw his head back barking out a laugh. He couldn’t be much older than Rhysand but there was no doubt he’d been here longer, way longer.
“And what makes you think you’ll win lordling?” The male taunted Rhysand. Rhysand scrambled to get off the ground, trying to throw a punch which the other male easily dodged and instead landed a punch to the stomach. It was a cheap punch, Rhysand shoved the male back. The others started to form a circle around them, to see who would win this. He had no intention of getting in trouble the first day. The male growled, trying to shove his hands back, sending both of them tumbling to the ground.
The camp lords let the other male get a few more punches in before two older males were ordered to break them apart. Rhysand could feel drip from his lip, the other male was grinning, blood running from his nose from when Rhysand elbowed him on their way to the ground. The camp lord didn’t look too upset as he ordered the two males holding them to lash them 3 times each.
The male wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “Oh, and don’t forget, I get your clothes.” He said as sweetly as he could. Rhysand lunged for the other male wanting a second round. Punishment be damned. He was yanked back by the older male holding the back of his collar, making the other male tilt his head back and laugh again. Rhysand decided then he really hated him.
“I don’t remember agreeing to that.” Rhysand spit out, pulling out of the older male’s grip, rolling his shoulders. The male shrugged.
“You could always win them back tomorrow.” There was a devilish gleam in his eyes that told Rhysand that it was going to be a long time before he would be at the same level as him, an even longer time before Rhysand could even think about being better than him. He took another look at the torn and battered leathers he wore, he needed the leathers more than he did. Rhysand just nodded.
“Tomorrow then.”
A ruggish grin spread across his mouth. “See you tomorrow lordling.”
—-------
Lady of the Night Court was not amused at all when her son came into the house wearing different leathers than he had on this morning. She sat in a chair, mending the leathers while her son grumbled into his stew about how he’d rather be back in Velaris.
“You’re Illyrian.” She snapped, pulling the needle and thread on the stitch a bit too harshly. “You’re not supposed to like it.”
“It feels like a punishment.” Rhys threw his spoon into the bowl, sitting back in the chair, looking out the window.
His mother just rolled her eyes. “You’ll thank me later.”
“I highly doubt that.” He said under his breath. His mother set down the leathers she was working on and fixed him with a cold, hard stare.
“You are going to be a very powerful Rhysand, one day you may not be able to use your Cauldron given powers. If that ever happens, you’ll be able to use the skills they teach you here.” His mother said sternly. “It’ll be good to not only rely on one set of skills. And besides, I’m Illyrian, I want to show you this side of your heritage, of where you came from.”
Rhys sighed, pushing back from the table. He’d heard this speech for an entire year. His parents spend a year fighting over it. The High Lord of the Night Court didn’t want his son to be in the training camps, and didn't see why he had to go. His mate insisted it would be good for him. Somehow, Lady Night won.
“I’m going to go for a walk.” He grumbled, he missed his home. He missed Velaris. His mother waved her hand, dismissing her son, having enough of his dramatics.
“Don’t be out too late. It’s not like home around here.” She said, going back to the leathers.
Rhys went outside, instead of going on a walk he sat on the front step, watching the snow fall. He wasn’t sure how long he was outside, but he saw the male from the sparring ring walk towards a tent. Again, guilt gnawed at him. He didn’t like the male but he couldn’t imagine being in a tent with no fire, or no walls to protect against the chill.
“Hey wait.” Rhys called out to him, stopping the male in his tracks. He narrowed his eyes at Rhys.
“What?” He sneered. Rhys set his jaw.
“I was going to offer you to come to my mother’s cabin.” Rhys offered, shrugging. The other male stared at him. “It’s, uh, it’s wam.”
—-------
Cassian waited for Rhysand to laugh in his face, but he didn’t. “You’re serious?” Cassian blinked, Rhysand nodded.
“Yeah,” He looked behind Cassian at the small tent he had made for himself. “I mean-”
“Yes.” Cassian said, not caring if he sounded too eager as he cut the young lordling off. “I mean, if you’re sure.”
Rhysand nodded, jerking his chin towards a small cabin but it had a chimney with smoke spilling out into the cold air and four walls. Cassian wasn’t one to complain, he followed Rhysand inside where there was an Illyrian woman mending his old leathers and suddenly Cassian felt bad. He shifted his feet as she looked up, furrowing her eyebrows.
“Mom, this is, uh.” Rhysand looked to Cassian, suddenly aware he didn’t know his name.
“Cassian.” He supplied quickly.
Rhysand nodded. “Mom, this is Cassian.” She looked between the two males before locking her eyes on Cassian, assessing him.
“Were these yours?” She asked softly, holding up the old leathers. He nodded, shifting his eyes away from her soft and kind hazel eyes. “Do you have anywhere else to go?”
Rhysand opened his mouth before Cassian could. “Not in this weather.”
His mother, Lady Night nodded, her lips thinning into a line as she set the leathers down. “You can stay here.” She told him as she stood, motioning for him to follow her into the kitchen. “You’ll study alongside Rhys after training. You two will not fight.” She scooped stew into a bowl for Cassian, holding it out to him. “And you can stay here as long as you'd like.”
“I don’t want to impose-”
She clicked her tongue, pushing the bowl into Cassian’s hand. “I’d much rather have you stay here. Rhys did invite you to stay. You’re not imposing.”
Cassian nodded, his hands cupping the bowl. He savored the warmth. “Thank you Lady.”
She clicked her tongue again, squeezing Cassian’s shoulder and running her fingers through Rhysand’s hair as she walked back to her chair. “Call me Theia.”
Cassian sat at the table, scooping a tiny bit into his mouth. Him and Rhys kept their eyes on each as he sat opposite of Cassian to finish his now cold stew. “I meant it about the two of you not fighting, or the both of you can go back outside.”
Both of their eyes snapped down to the stew, Cassian pushed a piece of meat around. “Yes mom.” Rhys muttered.
Cassian didn’t have to like Rhysand but that didn’t mean he wasn’t grateful for the heir. He could learn to like him, maybe.