Chapter Text
Martyn had not signed up for this.
To be honest, he had not signed up for anything. He’d been about ten when his parents had brought him into the fold with the Undying. It was a family thing, his grandparents and their parents had guarded the Phoenix… and the line went on and on. Some people inherited the family bakery, or a cobbler, or a smithy. At least Martyn didn’t have to deal with trying to peddle wares to people. He wasn’t very good at making friends so ultimately joining the Undying had worked out well for him.
When he’d first become a member, the Phoenix had been a boy barely older than Martyn, and he had been in a coma. It lasted for years as the Eikon slowly healed the Dominant’s injuries. And when he’d finally woken up he’d spent years recovering his strength, and not needing much guarding. Martyn was not a nursemaid and so he had never been officially introduced to his charge. The Undying wanted him to have the advantage of staying undercover, even to the Phoenix. Now however, the Phoenix was awake and out and about, and Martyn had finally been given the highly coveted honor of guarding him. The Phoenix didn’t know that, though. He was blissfully unaware that Martyn was tailing him and that… prince from Sanbreque.
Martyn stayed at a respectable distance as he kept following the pair, weaving through the throng of people in the streets of the Dhalmekian town they were visiting. Some business they were handling on behalf of Cid, apparently, since Cid had caused a minor ruckus just a few moons earlier. The earthquake from Drake’s Fang had been felt all the way in Kanver, he’d heard.
Whatever the circumstances, Cid should not send his brother on a trip together with this Sanbrequois traitor. The Undying would never forget what the Empire had done. Martyn wanted to give a piece of mind to him if he ever got to meet Cid face to face. One day, maybe, when he wasn’t undercover. Jote would absolutely lose her mind if he blew his cover after maintaining it for so long, especially now that he was needed. She had been clearly distressed when she assigned Martyn his duty via a stolas, after the Phoenix had told her that she could stay in Cid’s Hideaway and that Prince Dion would be going with him.
The prince who was now pressed shoulder to shoulder with the Phoenix, his hand on the small of the Phoenix’s back, like he was worthy of touching the Divinity. Martyn scoffed at the sheer audacity . At least they had the good sense to hide their appearances under the traditional Dhalmekian style flowy cloaks that helped to keep cool in the overbearing heat of the day. They’d be shining like beacons if they pulled their cloaks down, red and blond hair in a sea of darker Dhalmekian shades. The Phoenix wore the nondescript brown he preferred while on the road, the prince had found himself a white cloak that had already been turned into mottled grey with all the road dust - a fact that left Martyn feeling slightly smug. Whites weren’t a good choice for travel clothes.
Martyn himself could pass for a local, his skin was tanned by the sun and his brown hair and eyes made him fit in easily with the desert folk. Which was why Jote had chosen him as covert back up for this mission. He could blend in, and he had spent enough time in the Republic to have put together an outfit that wouldn’t get him a second glance. He adjusted the scarf that shaded his head from the relentless sun and was about to slip back into the flow of people when he noticed someone else following the Phoenix and the prince.
This person was not doing a very good job at being subtle. The man was clearly wearing Sanbrequois garb, his hood was far too hot and stuffy for the desert climate. The spear on his back was too finely forged to be anything but official military weaponry, not to mention the way it drew attention combined with how tall this man was.
Martyn wiped his face, rubbing the scruff on his chin that he hadn’t bothered to shave while on the road, and sighed exasperatedly. If this was going to be another assassination attempt by those damn imperials, could they not have waited a few days? Leonid was supposed to take over once the Phoenix left Dhalmekia and guard him the rest of the way back to The Hideaway. Discreetly, of course. Now he had to find out who this man was and what business he was up to. Martyn was acutely aware of how many people were milling around. If he was stupid enough to go for a hit in this crowd, Martyn might not be able to get between him and the Phoenix in time.
His entire lineage would kill him again in the afterlife if he allowed something bad to happen to the Phoenix.
He made his way closer to the totally-Sanbrequois-maybe-assassin, but paused on his tracks when the Phoenix and the prince went inside a large building. Probably to meet Cid’s contact. Which was good, he was out of harm’s way for the time being. He pushed down the thought of ‘what if there’s an ambush and the Phoenix just walked into it’ . The Phoenix could fight, he knew this, he had to trust that he could handle himself for five minutes. This was a perfect chance to get rid of this specific danger on the street, so Martyn flicked his wrist, the dagger hidden in his sleeve sliding into his palm. He gripped the handle and ducked behind the man who was now trying to conceal himself in the shade of a merchant’s stall.
“Who are you, and why are you following those two?” Martyn asked, pressing the dagger into the man’s back. Hard enough to show intent, but not hard enough to pierce his clothing, yet. It could be arranged if the need arose.
“I-I’m… I’m Gerard a-and I’m following Prince Dion!” The man stammered in surprise, trying to turn his head to get a look at Martyn.
“Why?” Martyn hissed back. This guy was definitely not a spy, he was blabbering information too easily. Probably not a real assassin either, but you didn’t need to be trained as one to kill people. Martyn knew he had the upper hand now despite being almost a head shorter than his opponent, unless this man was good at close combat. They weren’t big on that in Sanbreque, though. Spears were their favorite, sometimes big maces and swords.
“I… I’m here to make sure nothing untoward happens to him,” Gerard said, his surprise now starting to morph into anger. “Why are you following him?”
“Because we don’t trust him with the person he’s traveling with,” Martyn said, nudging his dagger a bit harder against Gerard’s ribs.
“Ow, can you please put the weapon down? I’m just here to make sure nothing happens to Prince Dion or Lord Rosfield,” Gerard pleaded.
Martyn considered Gerard’s words for a moment, and then poked him with the dagger once more, but it was half-hearted. It would make sense that the Empire wouldn’t send their prince alone to the enemy, just like the Undying didn’t allow the Phoenix to go unguarded.
“Fine. But if you try anything, you’ll be gathering your guts from the street,” he growled and retracted the weapon. “And stop yelling their names in the middle of the street,” he added.
Gerard turned to face him. He had blue eyes, and strands of short clipped blond hair were peeking from under his hood. Sweat was pearling on his face. “Thank you. Gerard Clairmont of the Knights Dragoon, at your service,” he introduced himself properly, bowing to Martyn.
“Tch. Stop drawing attention to yourself like that,” Martyn sighed. “I’m here to guard Lord Rosfield.” The Undying’s existence was on a need to know basis and such need would not arise when it came to anyone from Sanbreque. Nor did this man need to know who Lord Rosfield truly was. They may have scored the same duty but Martyn wasn’t going to freely spill his information.
Gerard grinned at him like he’d just made a new friend. Martyn grimaced. He’d known Gerard for less than five minutes but he already knew he was going to hate the guy. He peered around the bustling street before he grabbed Gerard by the collar, pulling him into the closest alley. The man followed him easily like a dog on a leash. Somehow that annoyed Martyn even more.
“We can’t stay here, people will start taking notice,” Martyn looked around, scanning the buildings around them. The houses were squat, two storey buildings with flat roofs. Not much of a challenge for Martyn, but good enough height to get a better point of view over the street. “Don’t draw attention to yourself and don’t get caught.”
Turning, Martyn shoved Gerard out of his way and took a few running steps to gain momentum. He started scaling the wall, vaulting on top of a nearby awning and scampering up it until he could leap to a convenient window sill. He startled a cat that was sleeping there in a patch of sunlight that reached between the buildings. Before the cat could retaliate, he was already climbing the rope that was suspended on a beam between the two buildings, all the way up to the roof. This was the best part of his duty, finding routes to stay undetected.
Martyn had no blessing, he was not a bearer, this was something he was good at all on his own. Granted some walls would have been easier to scale if he had a push of wind, or a dig of the earth to create footholds. So far, he’d always gotten where he wanted to go just using his own wits and keen balance, and he was proud of it.
The heat of the sun hit him with force on the roof, with nothing to provide shade. He hoped the Phoenix wouldn’t tarry too long with Cid’s mission. Staying up here for several bells would get uncomfortable. He snuck close enough to the edge of the roof to get a line of sight to the building where the Phoenix and the prince had entered and relaxed a bit. Gerard could take care of himself as far as Martyn was concerned. If the guards clocked him, that wasn’t his problem. But he was aware of the Phoenix’s real identity, so Martyn made a mental note to try to find out how and more importantly, who else knew. He decided he could deal with that later, when he wasn’t on guard duty. The safety of the Phoenix took priority. And Gerard didn’t seem like he would be hard to find. Or hard to take out, if it came to that.
Suddenly there was a thump and a creak of leather boots behind him, and Martyn spun around. Gerard was crouched a few meters away on the roof, spear now drawn in his hand.
“What the… how in the Flames did you get up here?” Martyn spluttered, staring at Gerard.
“I jumped,” Gerard said, in a matter of fact voice, like it was the most normal thing in the world. Martyn narrowed his eyes.
Dragoons. May the undying flame purge them from the immediate vicinity. Though wishing that was probably blasphemy and Cyril would give Martyn an earful, but Cyril wasn’t here, now was he?
“Are they still inside?” Gerard asked, carelessly stepping close to the edge of the roof. His boot kicked up a cloud of dirt that drifted down to the street. Did they seriously not train spies in Sanbreque? This dragoon had to be a common soldier, he had no subtlety whatsoever.
“Yes, try not to be seen,” Martyn hissed as he grabbed the back of Gerard’s cloak and pulled him away from the edge.
“Right, right, sorry,” Gerard apologized almost cheerfully and crouched down next to Martyn. Thankfully he remained silent after that. Martyn could focus on keeping an eye on the doorway so he wouldn’t miss the Phoenix. He could only hope he’d leave the prince behind.
Martyn imagined the prince was insufferable, being royalty and all. He was not used to the finer folk apart from the Phoenix who seemed pretty down to earth. His grandmother had served the previous Phoenix before Martyn was even born, and sometimes she’d told stories of him and the banquets in his castle. Apparently, the current Phoenix’s grandfather had known how to party, and he'd looked amazing in the battle field with his Eikon. Martyn wished he could someday see the Phoenix fully primed. It would be easier to believe in the divinity of the Dominant when he’d actually look the part, and not just a young man with a pretty face who left all the carrots uneaten on his plate, no matter how finely chopped they were. Though, maybe the Phoenix should choose somewhere else to prime, people would start taking notice if multiple Eikons were tearing up Dhalmekia.
Across the street, a door opened and the prince held it for the Phoenix. Martyn didn’t know if to be annoyed that he’d let the Phoenix go first without making sure the way was clear and no one was stalking them, or to be begrudgingly impressed that the prince seemed to know that his place was below the Phoenix. He saw the Phoenix wave his hand toward the market that was just a few blocks away and together they started walking in that direction.
“Moving,” Martyn grunted and took off, staying low as he followed them across the rooftops, keeping them in his sights. He didn’t owe Gerard anything, if he wanted to keep tailing the prince then he better keep up with him. Since he was so good at jumping , he could hop along like a rabbit for all Martyn cared. He leaped over the narrow gap between two buildings, a roof tile sliding an inch under his foot until it settled in place again, the momentum carrying him forward. Thankfully Dhalmekians loved building overhangs to create shade over the streets so crossing the wider gap proved no issue as he ran with nimble steps along the wooden beams suspended between two buildings.
He kept the Phoenix in his peripheral vision to make sure he didn’t lose him in the crowd. It had to be a special market day with how many more people there were the closer they got to the market square. The prince had offered the Phoenix his arm now, and the Phoenix was holding on to it as if he were a maiden. Martyn gritted his teeth. He didn’t like this fraternization but on the other hand, the prince was making sure the Phoenix stayed with him without actually touching him this time. The Phoenix was now leaning closer to the prince, saying something in his ear. Of course the market was very noisy, he probably had to do it just to get heard. It still didn’t sit right with Martyn. It felt so careless, were they even paying attention to their surroundings?
Martyn considered whether he should return to the ground level while the Phoenix and the prince were browsing the food stalls. It would make following them easier if they decided to change direction, but he was fairly sure they’d be heading to the oasis garden with their food. Martyn had scouted it a few days ago, the trees there provided shade and the lush greenery and the oasis water itself made the air feel cooler. The roof was starting to feel stiflingly hot so he wouldn’t argue with getting back into shade.
“You left in a hurry,” Gerard said behind him in the cheerful tone that Martyn already detested. He didn’t even sound out of breath after keeping up with him.
“Well, some of us have a mission to fulfil,” Martyn said, not particularly trying to hide the irritation in his voice.
“And you didn’t even tell me your name,” Gerard continued, his tone pouting.
“It’s Martyn, happy now?” Martyn said dejectedly. Maybe that would shut the man up for a moment. He cast a hopeful glance at Gerard.
“Nice to meet you, Martyn,” Gerard said, smiling even wider.
Martyn had a sudden mental image of a dog wagging his tail. He sighed and turned his attention back to the market.
“Oh those bread rolls His Highness is buying are really good,” Gerard said, perking up as he peered over Martyn’s head, not even trying to crouch down.
“I told you to stay down!” Martyn muttered and yanked Gerard’s cloak again. The stuffed bread rolls were pretty good, but he didn’t want to admit that to Gerard. They’d become all the craze across Dhalmekia, originating from Dalimil after Drake’s Fang had blown up. In the weeks since then they’d spread quickly with travelers who’d come to see the crater that was left of the Mothercrystal.
Of all the things people would travel to see, Martyn didn’t understand why they chose a giant pit. There wasn’t even a waterfall like at Dzemekys which at least looked very scenic. All there was to see was just a torn up stretch of desert leading to a shell of a mountain around what used to be Drake’s Fang.
Martyn wondered if the filling in the rolls had any carrots in it. Maybe the Phoenix would take offense if the prince offered him his most hated food? It was a petty hope, but a hope nonetheless.
“Have you tried the bread from Dalimil?” Gerard asked, his gaze still fixed on the baker’s stall.
“Yes, now be quiet!” Martyn hissed. It didn’t really matter how much noise they made, but it was the principle of the thing. The markets below were deafening with the calls of the peddlers for people to try their wares, the bellowing of the animals being sold, and the chatter of the customers.
The couple - Martyn really hated his brain for picking this particular word - had moved on to another stall so he had to focus on keeping track of them again. The bread rolls were soon joined by a flask of wine, a small wedge of local cheese and some fruit. A decent enough meal, and the prince was carrying all of it as he should . Martyn could have done without Gerard’s commentary on the items they had bought. He didn’t care about the flavor of the cheese or how it was stored in this heat, but Gerard seemed to have strong opinions on it. Something about his aunt being a cheesemonger back home in Sanbreque? The cheese stall was chilled, a bearer channeling an ice crystal periodically to keep the merchandise fresh. Some people seemed to stop by just to enjoy a brief break from the heat.
Like he had predicted, the Phoenix and the prince started making their way toward the market exit that led to the street connecting to the gardens. Without a word Martyn followed them, leaving Gerard behind to continue his cheesy monologue. If he’d had to stay there any longer he’d probably have learned the history of Gerard’s entire extended family.
The garden street was less packed so Martyn slid down an awning that was drooping down on one side and dropped back to the ground level, joining the stream of people. He’d have to use the trees and greenery for cover in the gardens anyway. Ahead of him, the Phoenix was tugging the prince’s arm, pointing to a busker playing music by a tea shop. Martyn couldn’t hear the lyrics of her song, but the tune was unmistakably that of ‘The Ballad of Dion the Bold’ with an added Dhalmekian flair. Not that the lyrics mattered much when the bards seemed to come up with new heroic deeds to attribute to the prince on a monthly basis.
Martyn remembered the last time the Phoenix and Jote had stopped in Tabor at the same time as him. He’d found Jote muttering to herself as she was throwing knives at a practice dummy while the Phoenix rested in his chambers. When he’d gone to do his own knife practice later, he’d found scraps of paper stuck to the dummy. Jote’s knife throws had shredded the sheet, but he'd been able to make out parts of the at the time current version of ‘The Ballad of Dion the Bold’. Martyn didn’t disagree with her on the music taste, but now he was starting to think there was more to it.
The prince was shaking his head while the Phoenix tossed some coins in the basket in front of the musician. Considering the vigor she put into the next verse the Phoenix must have given her good coin for her performance. It was unlikely that a random busker from Dhalmekia would recognize the prince, but Martyn still swore under his breath at the carelessness. The more coin you spend, the more likely you’ll be remembered. This was basic stuff, and the Phoenix had been traveling the realm incognito for years. Was he always this carefree, and why had Jote not warned him about it?
“You sure are always in a rush,” Gerard’s voice sounded behind him.
“And you should take your mission more seriously!” The busker now forgotten, Martyn whipped around and jabbed Gerard in the chest with his finger. It annoyed him to have to tilt his head up to make eye contact with Gerard. Being shorter than average was an advantage in his line of work but by the Flames it was pissing him off now. Even more so with how this man seemed to be amused by everything.
“I am serious,” Gerard said, lifting his gaze and scanning the street. “I volunteered for this, you know. I’ve always wanted to see Dhalmekia.”
“You…” Martyn breathed out in exasperation. “You have never been to Dhalmekia before?” He continued. They had sent a complete rookie out for this. Unbelievable.
“It’s hotter here than I expected,” Gerard said with a nod, his tone unfazed. His face was flushed with the heat of the day, and his nose would probably have sunburn by the evening despite the hood he was wearing.
“You know what, that makes perfect sense,” Martyn sighed and put his hands up in defeat.
“I think they’re going to the gardens,” Gerard suddenly said, his eyes fixed somewhere far behind Martyn’s back.
Martyn experienced a brief moment of panic when he realized he’d lost the line of sight to the Phoenix. Anything could happen, the prince could try to poison the Phoenix or any number of other terrible scenarios. He had been carrying all the food so he would have had a chance. What if he’d spirit the Phoenix away somewhere? How could Martyn be so careless? How could he let this Sanbrequois amateur get to him, he had trained for this mission for years!
“Let’s go,” Gerard said and pushed past Martyn, interrupting his momentary spiraling. He strode toward the arched entrance to the gardens with long steps. Martyn caught a glimpse of the prince’s cloak through the palm trees surrounding the entryway.
“Flames…” He swore under his breath and followed Gerard in a jog to catch up to him.
Martyn was too stressed to truly appreciate the lush oasis garden and the respite from the heat of the sun it offered. The paths were winding which made it easier to keep tailing the Phoenix and the prince, but they also would make it easier for the prince to make a disappearing act, or someone else to get close enough to threaten the Phoenix. He darted past Gerard and peered around, spotting the Phoenix ahead of them. He was still hanging on to the prince’s arm, again saying something to him. Martyn wished he’d trained more in lip reading.
Why did the Phoenix insist on staying glued to the prince’s side now? They were off the throng of the streets, there was no need for this lack of personal space. Or was he being forced?
The prince leaned closer to reply to the Phoenix and whatever he said, it made the Phoenix laugh. Okay, maybe he wasn’t being forced. This was still highly inappropriate to Martyn. The prince’s nose had practically touched the Phoenix’s cheek.
There were far less people here, most locals being busy with their daily duties. A young woman, the mark on her cheek identifying her as a bearer, was observing two children dressed in finery that marked them as members of the local upper class, possibly family of some wealthy merchant. The children were drawing some elaborate playing field on the patch of sand by the road, placing rocks inside the squares. Martyn weighed the scene in front of him - if the upper crust let their children play here with just a nanny to tend to them, the gardens were probably safe from outside attackers. That however didn’t mean the Phoenix was safe if the prince was planning an attack on him.
“There they are,” a voice came from above his head, and Martyn suppressed the urge to elbow Gerard in the ribs when he loomed behind him, looking over his head. Drawing attention with a squabble would definitely blow his cover.
“Yes, I have eyes. Now be quiet ,” Martyn spat out with a hiss. He took a deep breath to calm himself and stepped out of the bushes when the pair rounded another corner and disappeared deeper into the gardens. The bearer merely glanced at them and returned her attention back to the children. Martyn hoped that if this thing went terribly sideways, she’d only be able to point out Mr. Obviously-from-Sanbreque.
The verdant bushes and trees and everything between were providing a bit too much coverage, the Phoenix and the prince had rounded another winding turn on the path before Martyn again got line of sight to them. He sighed in relief. No more slip ups, he couldn’t afford those. Now if Gerard would lose line of sight of him that would make his whole day. Why did that man have to be so damn tall?
Martyn glanced over his shoulder to see Gerard pull off the hood covering his head. His hair was drenched in sweat. There would definitely be sunburn in his near future, not that Martyn cared.
On the positive side, the Phoenix had finally let go of the prince’s arm and was moving toward a flowering tree. He reached up to pluck a cluster of the pale violet flowers. Martyn couldn’t see it properly from this angle but he presumed the Phoenix brought the flowers to his face to breathe in their scent. When he turned, he was smiling, his cheeks flushed. He wasn’t going to get sick from the flowers, was he? Martyn knew some plants gave people bad rashes and other sicknesses. Surely the Phoenix was stronger than to succumb to a flower? Or maybe it was just the hot weather?
The prince was waiting for him, still carrying the bag with all the food. The Phoenix reached for him and took his hand , holding the flower in his free one, and gestured down the path that according to Martyn’s scouting would lead them to the oasis shore.
Martyn was still rooted in place, processing the Phoenix just casually taking the prince’s hand when Gerard bumped into him from behind.
“Are you coming? I think they’re going down to the shore,” Gerard whispered loudly, nudging Martyn’s shoulder.
“Shut. Up.”
There was a small gazebo on the oasis shore, in the shade of the palm trees, the blue waters offering a serene view from it. Martyn and Gerard had found a spot to the side of it, hiding in the shrubbery across the pathway. They were far enough not to get noticed, and to Martyn’s dismay also just out of earshot. Maybe that was for the better since Gerard still blabbed a random comment, no matter how many times Martyn tried shushing him.
“This is a really nice place, we should come here when we’re not on duty,” Gerard continued his cheerful stream of consciousness commentary.
“We who?” Martyn couldn’t hide the disbelief in his voice. He glanced over his shoulder, eyebrows scrunched at the ludicrous suggestion. They were not friends, had Gerard fallen on his head while doing his silly dragoon jumps? If he had, too bad he hadn’t broken his neck, Martyn wouldn’t have to deal with all this then.
“You seem a bit stressed, like you could use a break and unwind a bit after this,” Gerard said, nodding at Martyn.
“You’re what’s causing me this stress,” Martyn muttered and turned his attention back to the Phoenix.
The Phoenix had now taken off his hood and was pulling off his cloak to lay it on the gazebo bench for the two men to sit on it. He’d forgone the usual gloves and scarves he liked to layer on his shoulders, and just wore his plain black shirt under the cloak. Martyn grinded his teeth, even in the shade the color of the Phoenix’s hair was unmistakable. And the prince was following suit removing his cloak, because of course he was. They were so careless, was this why Jote had been so adamant when she passed the task on to Martyn? By the Flames, she was a saint if she put up with this lackadaisical attitude all the time. How had the Phoenix managed to stay undetected all these years he’d been traveling?
Martyn noted that the prince wasn’t wearing his dragoon armor under the cloak, just his dress shirt. Which made sense in the Dhalmekian heat and also made the prince far more sensible than Gerard-it’s-my-first-time-here. It also meant that if Martyn had to put a dagger in the prince, he wouldn’t have to find gaps in his armor. He might even land a hit with a throwing dagger if the need arose.
Small blessings.
He should get closer to the gazebo, just to be on the safe side. But with Gerard and his commentary following him that was impossible. Was he really the best volunteer the Knights Dragoon in their supposed holiness could have chosen for this mission? Had he been the only volunteer?
The prince had taken their feast out of the bag and the Phoenix was now beckoning him to sit down, extending a hand to the prince. Handholding, again? What in the Flames was the Phoenix thinking? Or maybe he was actually lulling the prince into a false sense of security? Martyn perked up at the thought. That would make sense, the Phoenix must have picked up some tricks from Jote after spending so many years in her company. Jote may not look like the part, but Martyn knew that she was a skilled assassin even if she rarely had to put those skills to use.
The prince sat next to the Phoenix, so close that their knees had to be touching. Martyn watched the Phoenix smooth the prince’s hair with his fingers, and tuck the flower he’d picked earlier behind his ear. He couldn’t see the Phoenix’s face properly from this angle, the man was seated so only part of his profile was visible to Martyn, but he did see the prince smile fondly at the Phoenix. Martyn’s gut clenched at the obvious emotion in the prince’s gaze, but he wasn’t ready to unpack all that. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. If the prince was so easily seduced then he had it coming when the Phoenix would unleash his fire on him.
Gerard hummed under his breath, craning his neck to get a better view. Martyn winced, if the prince looked this way he would certainly spot this stupid oaf. “Stay down,” he whispered, reaching up to yank Gerard’s collar to bring his head down.
“I don’t think they’ve noticed us,” Gerard said, but complied and leaned down. He was still towering over Martyn with his back hunched, which did not help Martyn’s mood.
“And I would like to keep it that way, no thanks to you!” Martyn groused. He hoped he’d never been this obnoxious to his mentors when he’d been assigned his first stealth training.
“I could have grabbed some food too while we were in the markets,” Gerard said, staring at the Dalimil style bread roll the prince was now tearing apart and offering a half of it to the Phoenix. “I’ll buy some when we come back here later, how about that?”
Martyn didn’t even bother to look up from his crouched position in the bushes, nor reply beyond a grunt. Gerard was unbelievable, he couldn’t seriously think Martyn would come back here for a picnic with him? He should never have allowed Gerard to follow him in the first place. He should have dumped him in that alley with a dagger embedded in his side. Okay, maybe he’d have retrieved the dagger, it was a fine one after all. Good craftsmanship, custom made for him. The town guards could have dealt with him when someone eventually smelled his remains. At the moment, a little murder sounded like a better way to unwind than a picnic by the oasis.
The Phoenix was biting into his half of the bread roll and since he didn’t spit it out, it must not have carrots in the stuffing. What a shame. Not that Martyn would want the Phoenix to eat something he didn’t like - that would be practically blasphemy and Cyril would be disappointed in him if he found out - but he had quietly hoped the prince would do something to make the Phoenix scorn him. Instead the prince was laughing at something the Phoenix had just said, a blush spreading on his cheeks.
The prince took a swig of the wine and offered the flask to the Phoenix, an act which earned him a begrudging point from Martyn. The food didn’t appear to have been poisoned since they were sharing everything. Martyn could probably relax. If Gerard was an example of what most of the dragoons were like, none of them would be bright enough to execute an assassination by poisoning without killing themselves in the process. He glanced up to Gerard who was fixated on the fast disappearing bread rolls and sighed.
The flask of wine switched hands again after the Phoenix had taken a sip, and now the prince was taking another to chase down the last bite of his bread roll. Something niggled at the back of Martyn’s mind. It was fine for a taster to check the food and drink before the Phoenix received it, it was the taster’s job , but tasting again after the Phoenix’s mouth had touched it felt… somehow inappropriate .
The flower tucked behind the prince’s ear was starting to droop, and Martyn observed as the Phoenix reached over and touched the prince’s chin with his fingertips, lifting his head from where he was looking down for the next bite to eat. The prince smiled softly as the Phoenix adjusted the flower, catching his hand as he started to pull it back after securing the flower in place. He lifted the Phoenix’s hand and pressed a kiss on his fingers, looking at the Phoenix from under his eyelashes.
Martyn swallowed. This felt far too intimate, even for a show of reverence. The prince didn’t even worship the Phoenix as a Divinity, did he? They worshipped Greagor up in Sanbreque, and Greagor wasn’t even an Eikon. None of the Undying would dare to do something like this. Gerard let out a low whistle and muttered something that sounded like a curse under his breath, for once too quiet for Martyn to make out what he was saying.
The prince picked some grapes from the bunch they’d bought, and held one to the Phoenix’s mouth. Martyn felt his own cheeks heat up. First kissing the Phoenix’s fingers, now this… This was not what he had expected. This was not proper conduct when in the presence of the Divine Phoenix! The Phoenix didn’t seem to mind it though, he ate the grape and said something, nodding his head to the prince. Martyn cursed under his breath, he should have looked for a better spot where he could see both of their faces, but he couldn’t well go for a swim in the oasis without being noticed.
The Phoenix reached for the grapes now, but instead of offering one to the prince in return, it looked like he popped one into his mouth. It was only when the prince huffed a laugh and leaned closer, face to face with the Phoenix that Martyn realized what was going on. The Phoenix was going to feed the prince the grape from his mouth . Like a bird, holding food in its beak.
Leaning in, the prince placed his hand on the Phoenix’s cheek and plucked the grape from the Phoenix’s lips with his mouth. He pulled back and made a show of chewing the grape, grinning cheekily after swallowing it down. The Phoenix slapped his shoulder gently as if to scold him, and pulled the prince closer by his collar, pressing their mouths together in a kiss.
‘I should look away,’ Martyn thought to himself when the prince tugged the Phoenix into his lap, wrapping his arms around his waist. They stared into each other’s eyes for a moment, pressing their foreheads together. Everything about the interaction was so familiar, Martyn realized this definitely was not the first time they were doing this. The Phoenix had his arms draped around the prince’s shoulders and he nudged the prince's nose with his own, tilting his head as he leaned in for another kiss.
Martyn didn’t know what to think. Did Jote know? She had to know, there was no way she didn’t. She’d spent years as the Phoenix’s closest aide. And what about Cyril, was he aware? Did Cid know and allow this? He realized his mouth was hanging open as he tried to come to terms with the scene in front of him. He really should have looked away.
Martyn’s wild train of thought was derailed when Gerard sighed and dropped to sit on the ground next to him. “By Greagor’s teats, I guess I’ve lost that bet…” he said forlornly, running his fingers through his sweaty hair.
“What bet?” Martyn snapped his mouth shut and turned to stare at Gerard.
“We’ve had a betting pool going on ever since Lord Rosfield visited His Highness’s camp. He left quite an impression on all of us,” Gerard said, grinning to Martyn. “The way he convinced Prince Dion to follow him had us making all kinds of guesses about what was really going on. I seem to have bet on the wrong thing.”
“I did not sign up for this,” Martyn muttered, more to himself than anyone else. He buried his face in his hands. The debrief for this mission was going to be a nightmare.