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“Who the hell does she think she is?”
“Summer Rose, probably,” came Tai’s voice from the kitchen. Raven scowled.
“Don’t get smart with me, this is serious.” Her hands clenched on the table. “She’s in charge of you, and me, and Qrow. We’re the best of the best. No one in this cesspit even comes close to us.”
“Aw, shucks.”
“Shut up. And what is she doing? She isn’t training. She isn’t studying. She follows around that headmaster all day like a lost pup. And now she’s roped Qrow into it! I mean, doesn’t that piss you off? Don’t you feel like you’re being wasted by a fucking ingrate?”
Sunlight blazed through paper-thin curtains. It was a bright morning, made sweet and savoury both by the rose waft from the balcony and the smell of food her and Qrow had only ever dreamed of. Tai was two-for-two. The gardener-cook hadn’t been so bad, Raven thought with a smile.
Just a shame he’d been a package deal.
“Summer can do what she wants with her free time,” Tai said. He’d grown enough on her that even with the distance, she could tell his heart wasn’t in the argument. Good. What was hers was hers. She wasn’t sharing with anyone.
“No, that’s just it.” She rapped her knuckles on the wood like they were in class. “She can’t. She’s our leader. She owes it to us to be there. She can’t even manage that? Then someone has to step up while she’s busy playing dead for daddy dearest.”
“Don’t talk about Summer like that,” came his voice harshly.
Raven sighed. “I’m trying to make a point, Tai. She’s going to get us killed.”
“You don’t need to be an asshole to make your point. I get it,” Tai said as he walked through the doorway. Gods, but he was pretty like this. The sun was playing just right on him, tan chest and purple-spotted throat glowing in golden light, hair the colour and scent of broken bread. The bastard had walked into her nasty, brutish and short life and made himself routine. And worse still, she was glad of him.
There wasn’t a war worth fighting against Tai. If he was the enemy, she’d rather lose. The thought terrified as much as it liberated; if it was out of character for a Raven Branwen, then…then maybe…
“Really, Rei, I do.” How loathsome, she thought. He’d settled on a nickname and she’d never stopped him. “I wish Summer’d be a little more proactive too. Lately it’s been feeling like it’s just you, me and the third wheel, when he shows up.” Tai put a pair of plates down and nudged one toward her. She tried not to drool. “No offence.”
“None taken. Tai, what the hell. This is dinner. Lunch at the earliest.” Raven dragged the plate right up to her stomach, hands twitching-
“Ah-ah,” Tai said, holding out a spoon and fork. She seized them without a second thought. “I was just feeling it. Don’t see you complaining.”
“I’m not. Holy fuck,” she said with a mouthful of deliciously soaked rice. “Gods lemme’ go out like this.”
“I think something just landed in my eye.”
“Nom-nom.” She covered her mouth as she ate. “You just…keep giving her the benefit of the doubt. It’s annoying. …You’re better to her than she deserves.”
Cute. Like talking into a tunnel. She killed the thought with ruthless prejudice.
Tai frowned. Hideous look. Ever the herald of her conscience. “It’s not about deserving. I hate that word. It’s the choices we make today and tomorrow. ‘Deserving’ is just dwelling on what’s already happened, it doesn’t fix anything. I know that, and I know you know that.”
Raven swallowed. “Yeah.”
Tai sighed, head hitting the table with a thump. “But, uh. Summer could definitely be making better choices.”
She smiled. “Yeah.”
She practically felt Tai frown against the table. “You’ve got a point. That’s a bad sign.”
Raven leaned over and ruffled his hair. “You can’t be right all the time, Long-dick.”
Tai spluttered. Breakfast had never tasted better.
He scratched at a beautifully blush ear. “I’ll…I’ll talk to her.”
Cutlery scraped on a near-bare plate. “What, you don’t want me to?”
“…Are you gonna be civil about it?”
Raven snorted. Civil up to a war.
“Then no.” Tai sighed again. The sound stuck in her ears. “I know her track record hasn’t been great lately-“
“That’s understating it.” The fork twirled in her taut hand.
“-But this feels new. It can’t be the only reason. So you tell me.”
She put her fork down.
“What’s your problem with Summer?”
“It’s not my problem,” Raven said, “it’s ours. I keep telling you Tai, she’s a martyr in the making. Good for her you know?-she’s found her lot in life, I’m so happy for her except she’s in charge of us. You want to play ‘I know you know’? How about I know you didn’t sign up for this?”
“Define ‘this’.”
She gestured wildly around the dorm. “This!”
Tai blinked. “This?” he said, circling the room with a finger.
“Yeah!”
“But this is all I’ve ever wanted.”
The curtains billowed. A warm wind swept from the balcony into the room and filled it to the corners with the sweetness of his garden. A floor above, the strum of a guitar sounded low and slow; a floor below, a girl’s laugh cut itself abrupt, as if mindful. The sing-song of birds couldn’t cover her muffled giggle and snort. The smell of still-warm food from the kitchen pinched at her full stomach. Tai was looking at her, trying his damndest to understand.
“That’s not what I meant,” Raven said weakly.
Tai ducked his head, finally starting on his plate. “I know.”
She stared at him. He stopped every bite to paw at his face, fast making red like his roses.
“So,” he said, “Summer?”
“You loser.”
“Yeah no, not my finest line.”
“Your most painful line by a Kingdom mile,” she said. “Fucking ugh.”
Tai grinned into his next spoonful. “It worked, didn’t it? I mean-”
“No, it didn’t work,” Raven snapped, “I just-”
“-The look on your face, that was the best part-“
“-felt like indulging you, stupid boy.”
“O blessèd Raven-you’re so lame.”
“Shut up. Fucking choke already, you’re exhausting.”
“I love you,” he said as he leaned over and nuzzled her forehead. “I love you like crazy.”
“I’m going to kill you,” Raven enunciated.
He was still laughing as he stacked their plates and crossed into the kitchen. She didn’t smile until he was out of sight.
“So,” came his voice, “give another go at ‘this’?”
Raven hesitated. Words had never mattered to her so much before. She’d spent her whole life until Beacon spitting out the first that came to mind, hand to the hilt. Talk was cheap, she’d learned quickly. But silence in their life was maddening, so they made do. In between the clash of steel and the roar of burning homes, insult spoke to imperative, gibberish pleaded their knives-a stupid girl yearned from a corpse waiting on worms. None of it mattered-all of it was unpleasant. She’d let her throat work anyway. So she’d been a cretin too.
Now her mind was scrambling, trying to place sounds in just the right order and tone to keep what was hers close. No, she wasn’t good at this. But she was trying.
By the time she’d decided on her words, Tai came back, milk and honied mugs in hand.
Rei took her share. “It wasn’t so bad for a while,” she said as he retook his seat. “She left us alone. I was okay with that.”
Her hands curled around the warm cup. “But they’re both out today.”
Tai’s eyes lingered on the doorway. “Yeah.”
“Same time as yesterday, and the day before that.”
They settled back on her, deep blue. “Good for them.”
She shook her head. “That’s not it. I know Qrow. If it was a fuck he’d have stars in his eyes. This is something else. I don’t know what, and he doesn’t tell me shit when I ask.”
Tai hummed. “You’re worried about Qrow.”
“Someone has to. He doesn’t worry for himself enough.” She took a sip. It was perfect. Everything he touched turned to gold it seemed, except for her. “Summer can go get herself killed if she wants. Hell. I’ll even be her pallbearer.”
“Something tells me she wouldn’t care for that.”
Raven huffed. “But she’s not taking me with her. Or you. Or Qrow, even if that fucking idiot wants a buddy-up grave.”
“Rei…” He sighed again. Damnit, why did he keep making that sound? “Summer’s not like that. She’s not going to get anyone killed on a whim. And your brother’s smarter than he thinks he is. You can’t have a little faith in him?”
“You’re his friend, aren’t you?” She could hear the desperation in her own voice. Fuck-fine, whatever. It was Tai. “Talk to him. Give me something. Give me anything. Just-tell me he knows what he’s getting himself into. That’ll be enough for me. I’ll leave him alone, and…”
And then what?
She tipped her mug back and set it down empty. Tai looked at her, not a word. He could be terribly opaque when he wanted. She couldn’t tell if he was about to brush her off, or call her crazy, or say something like ‘but what’s your problem with Summer?’ She grit her teeth. All he had to do was jam his stick in the right scar. The little boy must be heaving proud to have a Branwen wrapped around his finger. And that was to say nothing of what Summer had done to Qrow. The longer they kept here, the tighter the snare pulled on their necks. Beacon was killing them, it was changing them, it was promising them tomorrow and it was too good to be true, it didn’t, she couldn’t-
Tai’s hand tapped at her closed fist. Her hand opened instinctively. Raven could only watch, thoughts tortured and starving as his thumb started to smooth the white from her knuckles.
“Guess I’ll be doing a lot of talking this week,” Tai said quietly.
“Sorry,” Raven muttered. “This shouldn’t be all you.”
“Who said this’d be all me?-Play nice with Summer,” he said before she could get a word in.
She groaned. Fucker. “Fine.”
The most serene shit-eating grin manifested on his lips. “Thank you.”
“I was going to cut her throat tonight, but now I’ll just leave the stove on while you’re asleep.”
“And I’ll talk to Qrow,” Tai said, pretending he hadn’t heard a thing. “But I’m not going to lie to him about this. He’s a good person. Feels like he wishes he wasn’t sometimes, but he is.”
“That’s the problem,” Raven said. She jumped as the jingle of keys sounded behind her. Speak of the bleeding heart-
“Hey Qrow,” Tai called, recovering faster than her. “Breakfast is that-a-way. Follow your nose.”
“Hey Tai,” Qrow said, eyes to the wall as he pulled his shoes off. “Hey you,” he said to her as he passed her by.
“Where were you?” Raven said.
“Out.” He walked into the kitchen.
“Out where?” she pressed.
“Out there, Tai this is not breakfast,” Qrow called from the kitchen. The sound of a scraping pot followed.
Tai’s eyes widened. “Hey, hey, leave something for Summer.”
“Yeah, yeah. She’ll be late, by the way.”
“What are you, her fucking letter boy now?”
“What’s, uh, keeping her?” Tai asked, shooting her a look.
“Headmaster stuff. It’s con-fi-den-tial, so don’t ask.” He stopped at the doorway with a loaded plate. “Dude,” he said, grimacing at Tai’s neck.
“So you were with her,” Raven said.
Qrow went stiff. It was as good as guilt. “So?”
“So what were you doing together?”
“Step off, Raven,” Qrow snapped. “I just said it’s con-fi-den-tial.”
“You don’t even know what that word means,” Raven snapped back.
“And what, you do?”
She flapped her arm. “Something to do with privacy.”
“Yeah. So take a fucking hint.” Qrow shook his head. “I’m eating outside. Thanks for the tuck,” he said as he passed Tai by.
“Yup. You’re welcome.”
The balcony door clicked shut. Raven slumped against the table. “You see what I’m working with?”
“You know he can still hear you, right?” Tai drained his mug in one go, eyes to Qrow.
Raven sighed. She’d made the sound plenty before Beacon; it’d played on her face as often as a cold sneer and a damning scowl. Sighs tired, sad, downright bored. It’d never felt like such a relief before. Not a happy little breath, but close. She could see herself going soft with this sound. Idling in the shade of a linden, mayhap, hands combing through his rich gold hair. Half-lidded eyes calling her to sleep. He would still be there when she woke up.
“Tai.” He blinked and looked at her.
“You’re the only peace I get around here,” she said, quiet as she could. “So don’t you die on me. I need you.”
Tai blushed for the second time this morning. Red was a good colour on him.
“Rei…” he started.
“Oh yeah,” came Qrow’s deadpan voice through the balcony door, “oh yeah baby. Sex in the living room.”
Tai smiled. “You sure picked a time and place to get sentimental.”
She hummed, face burning. “My mistake. I’ll never do it again.”
“I think it’s cute,” Tai said.
“It’s humiliating, is what it is.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty painful-“
“Shut up!”
Tai was laughing and laughing. Funny, really, truly funny how things had changed, Raven thought. That sound had grated on her ears not too long ago. Now it left her wanting. It poked and prodded at the site of an old hope. You can be more than what you are.
Maybe, maybe, maybe.
“Vernal, what the fuck is this?”
She jumped. She knew that tone. “Chief?”
“Titles won’t save you, stupid girl,” Raven growled as she turned around, pot in hand. “This. What the fuck am I looking at? Was this you?”
She blinked at the sight of her own reflection on the metal. “No?”
“Answering my question with a question. You must be terribly eager to die.”
“No!” Vernal yelled, panic in her throat. “It’s not mine!”
“Then who?” She flinched as Raven dropped it on the table. “What fucking idiot made this? And then what fucking idiot was so proud of their pigfeed that they let it keep in my camp, in my tent, next to my bed?” The chief was drawing smoke more than breath. “Because I’ll kill them. I will kill them myself, who the fuck made this?”
Vernal let her finish, and started counting all the gods she knew. “You did, chief.”
Raven froze mid-pace. Remnant had a lot of gods, didn’t it.
“You did,” she said, making scattershot prayer to all of them she could remember. “Last night. You were drunk, again, and you stopped the cooks while they were making your cut. Said you knew exactly what to do with it and if anyone got in your way you’d quarter them.” Vernal shifted. “We, uh. Took your word for it.”
Vernal kept her eyes to the lidded pot. Fear mixed with curiosity as the silence in the tent dragged on. She’d never seen the chief cook. No one had, and last night she’d stolen back into her tent before anyone knew what she’d done with good meat. Now it was sitting before her, a copper chest with a kind of treasure.
She wanted to know. She needed to know. Could the boss cook for shit?
She flinched again as the chief fell to the floor. Her hands were clenching and unclenching on the table between them. Vernal’s whole body cringed as she raised her eyes. The chief was looking straight over her. Vernal blinked. Rage, she knew on Raven. Frustration, too. Irritation, even. Some Kingdom prick would probably lean over her and tell her all snooty-like they were the same thing, but she knew they weren’t. They all showed just a little different on the chief’s face.
The weird thing was none of them were showing now. Raven’s face was all clean-nah, clean wasn’t the word. Raven’s face was nothing. It was like she wasn’t thinking anything, or if she was, it was coming to her slowly. She didn’t really look like Raven Branwen the bandit queen at all.
She looked like Raven Branwen when it was just the two of them, the night was getting on, and she was getting to the bottom of her third bottle.
It was morning. Vernal’s thoughts started racing. Shit. Was she day-drinking now?
It was a damn relief to Vernal when her eyes started to focus again. First on the tent wall, then on her-lingering on the pot and settling in her crossed lap. “I see,” she said. “Have you tasted it?”
Vernal shook her head. “You didn’t let anybody at it.”
“Hmm. Good.”
She could get away with a lot while the chief was like this, Vernal realised. Her curiosity flared up again. “Um, chief?”
Raven nodded. “What.”
Vernal swallowed. Not too much, maybe. The lack of lilt was a dead giveaway she was still sober. “Why…did you cook last night?”
“I was just feeling it,” Raven said. Vernal watched the chief break out into a come-and-go twitch, like she’d realised something.
“Feeling, like…?”
“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” Raven snapped, “I’m the chief. Know your place, Vernal.”
She winced. Oop. “Yes, chief.”
Her eyes lowered as Raven made a sound. “Just a scared little girl,” she said scornfully.
Vernal’s lip twisted. “Yes, chief.”
“’Yes, chief’. Gods, you’re pathetic. Am I supposed to be impressed by your snivelling? Do you think pity will stay my hand? We’re training double today. Unless something breaks you’ll be on your feet for all of it.”
Vernal’s gaze leapt from her wringing hands. Her mouth opened, thought immediately better of it, and closed. Raven didn’t smile. She didn’t smile, but-
“Good,” she said. “That’s why you’re in here and not out there with the lackeys. You know when to keep your mouth shut.”
Vernal nodded slowly. What would it take to kill a Branwen? …More than she’d probably ever be capable of, Vernal thought glumly.
Well, she knew how it went. If you can’t beat them…and if the almost-comfortable silence was anything to go by, Raven’s mood was good for one more slight. Vernal reached for the lid.
“Throw it out when you’re done,” Raven said tiredly. She nodded.
Vernal pulled the lid and took a look-see. The inside was lined with gross pockets of goo, but that stuff melted. The food itself? The meat?
“This…isn’t bad,” Vernal finally said. Pigfeed, what was she talking about? This looked delicious!
“Oh, please,” Raven muttered. “It’s imitation. Tai could make it better with his fucking elbows. And it’s too much anyway without rice. Can’t find a single grain this far out. You think the miserable little peasants around here would tire of bread and bone broth, but no. Not a single daring taste bud between them.” She huffed. “At that point, killing them is a mercy. Isn’t it?”
Vernal closed the lid. “Who’s Tai?”
A name had stuck. As Vernal looked from the pot to the chief’s face, she knew it’d been the wrong thing to say. Raven stared at her like she was thinking of ripping her throat out. The blood-red in her eyes was boiling, rage-frustration-irritation all showing, and…something else. Vernal looked down. She didn’t care. She couldn’t-she’d pushed her luck enough today.
“I’m sorry,” Vernal said while she still could.
A sound like a laugh came from Raven Branwen. “Get out.”
She kept her head low and shoulders hunched as she grabbed the pot and started out. Sweat trickled through her coarse collar and past her shoulder blades, pinched in anticipation of a stabbing pain. She couldn’t breathe again until the tent-flap was settled behind her.
Vernal sighed. This afternoon and evening were going to hurt. “What the hell is wrong with you,” she breathed as she made her way to the pens, copper pot in clammy hands.