Archive of Our Own

The noise of sparring led Bea to the central courtyard of the estate.

There were really only two people it was going to be—While House De Riva had plenty of high-ranking Crows that would filter in and out, there were only three permanent residents of the estate. She’d met Ayden the first day Viago brought her in. He’d mentioned on the ride there that there was another mage who stayed at the estate with him. She got the impression Ayden had not gotten a similar warning. There’d been a broad smile on their face when they came to meet Viago that had vanished when they’d noticed he had company and had not returned. The suspicion wasn’t unexpected but it had been uncomfortable. The silence wasn’t complete—She’d hear them chattering to Viago if she wasn’t in the room. The problem was; that just made it more obvious when she walked in. She’d deal with it. Viago had brought her in, in part due to her ability to be imposing and quiet at his elbow. Just because she hadn’t expected to need to do it at home didn’t change anything.

The main issue was that she didn’t know what to do with it. Most of what she needed to do, now that she was officially part of House De Riva, was clear; Viago would tell her. And plenty of the rest was easy to pick up. She could model herself in public from the way Viago acted. But he’d given no instructions, nor any hints, on how he wanted her to deal with the other mage in the house. Were they supposed to be friends? Were they supposed to fight? Was there some level of seniority there that Bea hadn’t been told about? Ayden hadn’t been introduced with any rank other than Crow. The uncertainty didn’t seem like it was going to go away any time soon.

The chatter was ever-present in the spar. Both from Ayden and from Viago, who sounded extremely used to chiding.

“You almost fade-stepped.”

“But I didn’t!”

“You were thinking about it. I could see on your face.”

“I just think this whole ‘make it like a real fight’ deal is stupid. If I was in a real fight, you can be damn sure I’d use magic.”

“Unless you didn’t have the power left.”

“If I don’t have the power to fade-step I’m already gonna be tired enough that running’ll be a problem.”

“All the more reason to train.”

Bea stopped in the doorway to watch. Viago was incongruously still dressed in full sleeves and gloves, but it didn’t seem to be giving him any issue fighting. Ayden was in a loose, sleeveless shirt and pants. They were both sweaty and breathless, though whether the second was from the workout or the talking was anybody’s guess. As she watched, Ayden managed to wrestle one of Viago’s knives from him, tossing it to the side as soon as they had it out of his hand. He responded by grabbing a hold on their wrist, trying to get them into a lock, which they only escaped by kicking his knee out from under him so he had to let go to recover.

“Sloppy.”

“The day you call my grappling anything other than sloppy is the day I check you for possession.”

“I’m not the mage.”

“Your level of pure disapproval has to be enough to make up the difference.”

“I’ve also called your grappling abysmal.”

Back and forth and back and forth. They traded advantages—Clearly well-used to fighting each other so even the difference in height didn’t have much of an effect. And Ayden was clearly enjoying themselves more than Bea had ever seen. Eventually they got Viago pinned, a triumphant look on their face at his annoyed sigh.

They only held the pin for a moment, then let him go and got up. Swiped at the sweat on their face with the back of their forearm before realising that the skin there was just as damp and grimacing. Instead they tugged their shirt over their head and scrubbed the fabric over their face then their torso. Viago, also having stood up, huffed.

“Are you done?”

“No, it’s just hot,” Ayden complained. Took a few steps towards the edge of the courtyard to toss their shirt out of the way—Spotted Bea and froze just for a moment before continuing what they were doing and turning back to Viago.

There were surgery scars on their chest, new enough to be pink but neatly healed. It was their back that made Bea wince. Criss-crossing lines, silver against the tan of their skin. Her own back itched.

“One more round,” Viago said, something long-suffering in his tone. “I have other work to do.”

“Fine.” Ayden drew the vowel out long.

“You can always see if Beata wants to spar if you’re not done,” he added, nodding to where she was standing in the doorway.

The fact that they’d left their shirt off only made the way every muscle along their spine tensed more obvious. “We’ll see.”

The banter died off a little bit with that round. Bea started trying to focus more on technique, the way Ayden moved—If they did end up sparring she had to hold her own. The match ended with Ayden pinned with a blade to their throat this time. She could see Viago’s jaw moving, but he was talking too quietly for her to hear what he said. But it didn’t last long before he stood up and let Ayden push themselves upright as well. There was a stubborn look on their face but they didn’t say anything. Viago looked down at where sweat was soaking through his shirt and pulled a face. Waved Ayden off and headed inside. Bea bumped her shoulder affectionately against his as he passed just to see what he’d do—Got an exhausted sigh and a flat look. The annoyance made her smile.

But when she glanced back into the courtyard, Ayden was watching with a frown on their face.

She schooled her own expression into something more neutral, pushing off the doorway to walk out into the sun. “You wanted to spar?”

She didn’t especially want to. Ayden was shorter than her and, she was fairly sure, younger. But they had also clearly been training for a long time, and Bea was still putting on weight from being hungry for so long. She knew she could put up a good fight. It’d still be close.

“I’m probably good,” Ayden said, neutrally. “Unless you really want to?”

There was a challenge somewhere In there, but Bea didn’t actually want to start whatever weird dominance struggle Ayden clearly thought was happening, so she shook her head. “I’m good for today.”

There was a moment where they seemed like they were studying her, but then they just nodded. Strode past her to collect their shirt from the ground and followed Viago inside.

Ayden still wasn’t used to having someone else regularly in the estate.

Sure, Viago had some others that would come in and out for a night or two. Big contracts, jobs that were more complicated. But it was never someone there all the time. Bea wasn’t even technically a full Crow yet. Late recruits got truncated training, but they still got training. Viago was just taking care of it. He’d already had her sparring with Ayden, long days that reminded them of their years as an apprentice. He’d been making noises about sending her on a job with them soon.

Whenever soon was. They were trying not to think about it, burying themself in the things he’d delegated to them while he trained Beata.

Maybe it would’ve been different if she’d been new to the both of them but Viago had brought her back from Antiva City, they’d had the entire ride down to get to know each other. Ayden wasn’t used to feeling left out in Viago’s conversations. Even if they didn’t know all the details, they knew Viago’s side of things. But not anymore.

Even just the idea of it was uncomfortable and they couldn’t tell why.

People were supposed to have big families.

Years later, the memories of their clan lingered. Running between aravels, every adult watching out for every kid. There’d even been something similar in the kennels, thrown in with a bunch of kids around the same age, even if it was a lot harder to like each other there. But then they’d all disappeared, one by one. It’d just been Ayden and Viago for so long.

Now there was Bea.

The sparring had started once the bruises Bea arrived with had faded. Ayden had never asked what they were, and Bea never offered.

She’d offered plenty of other conversation openers.

It felt like every other day she had some kind of offer, a question, some kind of move Ayden had pulled that she wanted to know more about. They didn’t necessarily think there was always an ulterior motive, there was a line that’d form between her eyebrows when Ayden managed something she couldn’t counter. Not that there was much they had left to throw; she was learning all their tricks fast. Still had plenty of her own.

She’d gotten them with a sneaky-fast elbow to the jaw that day, one that would’ve knocked teeth out at full power. Viago had made a noise from the sidelines that had shame burning on every inch of Ayden’s skin. The end of their sparring session had been called, Viago had stalked back inside, Ayden was still standing in the middle of the courtyard, Bea a few feet away from them. It felt like their tongue was stuck to the roof of their mouth.

Either they had to ask, or they had to walk away. Stretch their muscles out, clean up, move on with their day. Bea’s eyes were burning into the side of their face.

They couldn’t move.

She said, “Want me to show you how to spot that move?”

They made the split second decision to act like they didn’t know what she was talking about. “What?”

“The elbow.” She shrugged, when they looked over at her, but there was a bit of a pleased cast to her expression. “You looked pretty surprised.”

“You’re quick,” Ayden allowed.

Bea threw a wide grin at them. “Thanks.”

Ayden grimaced, wrinkling up their nose. They hadn’t really intended to pay her a compliment, but it’d just seem petty to try and take it back. Instead they pulled in a deep breath, rolled the tension out of their shoulders, and said, “Ok, take me through it.”

Working again meant everything else faded out. The aching muscles from the first rounds of sparring were par for the course, that didn’t make a difference. They were used to working through that kind of thing, and it felt like Bea was settling into that too. Figuring out the elbow slid into another few rounds of sparring. Not as strictly regimented as Viago ran it, especially tired as they were.

Ayden almost could have called it fun.

“Shit,” Bea said, eventually, sprawled on the ground next to them where neither of them had managed to get up after the last round. “Suns going down.”

Ayden blinked and started to register how dark the sky was getting. “Fuck. Viago’s not going to take it easy on us tomorrow.”

Bea laughed. “At least we’ll both be in the same boat.” She pushed herself upright, wiped her hands off on her pants before offering Ayden one.

They hesitated. Almost took it. Pushed themself up instead.

A little bit of the smile fell off her face.

“Better move quick if you want to clean up before dinner,” they said, turning to walk into the house, grabbing their shirt from where they’d tossed it a few hours beforehand.

Bea caught up with them before they got to the doorway. She nudged her shoulders against theirs—friendly, but it still made them tense all the way down to their toes.

But all she said was, “Good spar,” and then she was moving past them, leading the way back to the bedrooms.

Ayden bit their tongue and followed.

It was supposed to be an easy job, from everything that Viago had told them.

Bea should’ve known that easy didn’t always mean according to plan; that was why Ayden was dragging her bodily back to their inn while she used a wad of fabric from their shirt to hold pressure on a knife wound in her shoulder. She’d taken a hit to the temple, too, everything still vaguely swimming. Except the elf, pressed up against her side, arm braced around her waist.

“Kind of thought you might leave me behind.”

The words fell out of her mouth without her really meaning them to. They were mostly true. She’d been trying, trying so hard, but she still only ever got flashes of what felt like acceptance from Ayden. And this would have been a prime opportunity to get rid of her, if that was what they were trying to do.

“You’re a de Riva,” they said, breathing hard but still tugging her along just as relentlessly. “And Viago worked really hard to recruit you. He’d kill me if I left you behind.”

“Well, that’s nice of him,” she said, and heard them snort.

When they got to the inn they dumped her on the bed and moved to strip off the ruined shirt they were wearing. Used the rags of it to scrub blood and sweat off their torso before going to their bag to dig out a new one. Bea’s brain had started to feel like it was settling back into place—the hit to the head really hadn’t been that bad—so she watched them, eyes focusing properly.

They glanced over and caught her gaze lingering on the scars on their back. An uncomfortable expression crossed their face and they said, “Basic training. You didn’t miss much. Does that shoulder wound need stitching?”

Bea would’ve loved to say no, but it would’ve been stupid and she knew it. She nodded, and Ayden tugged a fresh shirt on before going back to digging through their supplies. Bea unbuttoned the top of her own shirt, one-handed with the other still holding pressure, so she could shrug it down away from the wound without fully taking it off. Shifted to turn her back to Ayden so they’d have the best access to it. It wasn’t comfortable, turning her back like that. But they had been working well together.

The noise from of the pack rustling faded. There was a little more movement before a flare of fade and heat that had to be them cleaning the needle. Then all of a sudden there was a gentle touch on the skin of her shoulder, sudden enough to make her jump.

“I’ll check if the bleeding’s stopped.”

Reluctantly, she pealed away the cloth. Most of her back was still covered but she was pretty sure enough was exposed.

Ayden stayed silent, stayed not touching her, for a long moment before saying, “Guess you really didn’t miss much,” and then they were pinching the slash in Bea’s shoulder closed. “You ready?”

“Yes,” she forced out.

“Ok,” they said, surprisingly gentle. “Breathe in.”

The needle bit, Bea tried and failed to keep her breath from hitching. Ayden didn’t seem to react, the pressure of the holding hand stayed steady.

After a moment they said, “How did Viago recruit you?”

“He didn’t tell you?” she asked, voice ragged, and Ayden gave a negative hum. “I had information he wanted. Talked him into taking me with him before I let him have it.”

The hum turned approving. “Guessing wherever you were before wasn’t great, then.”

Bea said, “No,” and didn’t elaborate. Asked, “When did he recruit you?”

“Viago? He didn’t. It was—Shit, I don’t remember his name. This guy who used to hang around the market sometimes. He’d give out gold pieces if you had good information for him. When I realised the Crows were my best shot at avoiding Templars I asked him to take me in.”

“When did you meet Viago, then?”

“A few months later. He got sent in to take over the fledglings.”

Bea blinked. “He wasn’t Talon yet?” The bite of the needle was starting to fade into the background.

“No, he’s only been Talon for a year or so,” Ayden said. “Before him it was this asshole called Cezare.” The holding hand squeezed just a little. “I can only call him that because he’s dead. Just so you know.”

“I figured,” Bea said. Maybe it was the blood loss, but she added, “So, would you say that about Viago if he died?”

There was a pause, the rhythm of the needle faltered just a touch. She wondered for a moment if she’d really fucked something up by saying that.

“I call Viago an asshole to his face,” Ayden said, voice dry. Then, a little more serious they added, “But if he’s dead I died first.”

“That’s morbid.”

“I owe it to him,” they said. “Wouldn’t be here without him.”

Bea huffed half a laugh. “Me too, I guess.”

Then all of a sudden they were tying off the stitches. Tying bandages into place around her shoulder, stowing the medical supplies again. Bea blinked, rolled her shoulder a little to test how much movement she had. Slipped her shirt back into place over it, before realising it was all bloody. She should probably change.

Stood up, felt her head swim. Immediately sat back down.

Somehow, then, the whole night caught up with her; the stress of the job; taking out guards; watching Ayden’s knife find purchase in the contracts throat; the feeling of a blade sinking into her shoulder; how sure she’d been, just for a few moments, that she was about to be abandoned bleeding in an alleyway, somehow worse off than she’d ever been before. Bile started to crawl up her throat.

She managed to say, “Ayden,” before it choked her.

Somehow they must’ve recognised what was happening because they glanced up and then had a bedpan in her lap within seconds. Pulled her hair back over her shoulders as she retched, pitifully. It was brief, at least, but it still left Bea prickling with embarrassment as Ayden took the bedpan away.

“You stay there,” they said. Dug a fresh shirt from her bags and tossed it to her, put the bedpan within easy reach, and said, “I’ll be right back,” before vanishing out the door of their room.

Got back with a basin of water and a rag a few minutes later.

“You have blood in your hair,” they explained, before starting to clean it for her.

There was something so unexpected about the kindness that Bea found herself blinking back tears. Looked down at her lap to try and keep it out of sight. She couldn’t imagine Ayden hadn’t noticed, but they didn’t say anything. Just eventually put the basin on the floor.

“I think I got all of it out.”

Bea nodded, managed to say, “We should probably get some rest if we want to head out early enough tomorrow,” without it coming out too watery, and lay back.

Instead of moving to their own bed, Ayden shifted a little closer, pressing up against her arm, and said, “You did well.”

Bea shuddered. Turned away, onto her side. To her surprise, Ayden didn’t budge. When another shiver had her cautiously pressing back against them, they stayed, hip to knee pressed against her back.

“It’s hard the first time,” they added, something cautious and unpracticed in their voice.

“Did you throw up?” she asked, archer than she meant to.

But Ayden just said, “Yeah.”

“Who held your hair back?” she asked.

“No one,” Ayden said, something amused sparking in them. “I was on a job with Viago. It’s ok, though, I have pretty short hair.”

Bea snorted, despite herself. Said, “Thanks.”

Ayden said, “You’re welcome.”

And they sat there until she fell asleep.

Bea had started bringing Ayden hot chocolate when training days were particularly bad.

The routine formed faster than they thought it would. Finding spots in the villa that felt more private; the table at the corner of the kitchen, a window seat in one of the sitting rooms, their quarters sitting on one of their beds.

Instead of training this time it was a contract—Bea’s first time taking lead. It was the last choice of location they’d taken—Viago had been a foul mood all the way through their debriefing, and neither of them wanted to risk running into him anywhere in the rest of the estate. Ayden’s shoulders were aching and their hair was still wet from washing up. They sat cross-legged, leaning up against the wall, Bea next to them with her legs stretched out, feet hanging off the edge of Ayden’s mattress.

“Do you think it was the exit plan?” she asked, apropos of nothing more than a pensive sip from her mug.

Ayden, eloquently, said, “Hmmm?”

“Why Viago was so,” Bea started, then her mouth twisted instead of finishing the sentence.

“Oh.” Ayden took a moment to consider it, tipping their head back against the wall. “No.”

There was silence for a moment before Bea said, “Ok, you could explain,” in a waspish tone. Ayden looked over with a half-smile, found her frowning at her mug. She said, “I don’t want to fuck this up.”

“You’re doing fine,” they said. “The job went fine, he was just already mad when we got home. Something else is going on.”

Bea said, “Ok,” but didn’t seem convinced.

Ayden turned their mug around in their hands. Eventually they blurted, “You’re not going to win at overthinking Viago.”

“What does that mean?” She glanced up at them.

They shrugged. “He’s just—There’s always a lot going on with him. Mostly when it matters he’ll tell you.”

“I don’t think that’s true at all,” Bea said, eyebrows furrowing.

“Well, stewing over whether it is or not isn’t going to make you feel better about it,” they pointed out.

“He trained you, right?” she said. “So, how long have you actually known him?”

It wasn’t the first time she’d asked about their past. She’d asked after their clan before, in a roundabout kind of way. Ayden had brushed that off—They did their best not to even think about life before Salle—but talking about the Crows didn’t have the same sting. They took a sip of their hot chocolate as they counted out the years.

“Like seven years?” They tipped their head back against the wall.

Bea’s eyebrows jumped and she let out a low whistle.

“So, when I say he’s not mad about the job, it’s because I know he’s not mad about the job,” they added.

She huffed out a long breath in response before saying, “He wants to take me to some party next month, he was saying.”

Ayden swallowed the automatic swell of envy long enough to say, “What party?”

“It’s in Treviso,” Bea said.

The envy shifted quickly to relief. “Oh, that’ll be a Talon thing.”

Bea gave them a wary look that said she’d picked up on their mood, and they shook their head.

“You’ll be fine. It’s a big fancy dinner. The Dellamortes throw them from time to time.”

“That’s the first house?”

Ayden nodded.

Bea shifted on the bed. Drained the last of her hot chocolate and then shifted to put her mug on the floor before settling back into place. “Have you ever been?”

“No,” they snorted. “Viago knows better than to take me to anything that fancy.”

“You haven’t met the Dellamortes, then?” She looked towards them.

“I’ve been in the same room as Caterina a couple times,” they offered. “But I’ve never been introduced and I don’t want to be.”

“You don’t want the First Talon to notice you?” Bea jibbed, nudging them just a little with her shoulder.

She was starting to do that more often. Little casual touches. Ayden thought it was. Nice? Maybe? They weren’t used to it.

“If people are noticing me, I’m a bad Crow,” they drawled instead.

They tossed back the last bit of their own drink and leant to put the mug on the stand beside their desk. Bea was looking pensive again when they leant back against the wall, one knee drawn up so she could prop her elbow and rest her chin on her hand.

“You’re not still worrying about Vi,” they said. “If the job had gone badly he’d let us know, he loves telling people when they’ve fucked up.”

“I did get that impression,” Bea said. Then she tipped her head back into the wall, nose wrinkling up as she grimaced. “I’m just overthinking.”

“You should’ve brought alcohol instead of hot chocolate,” Ayden said. “That’d solve that problem.”

She snorted, then sat up properly, scrubbed her hand over her face. “It’s fine. I’ll sleep on it.” She pushed herself up and off the bed, picked up her mug from the floor, started to walk towards the bedroom door before pausing and glancing back. “Want to go with me to the market tomorrow? If we leave early enough maybe we can slip out before Viago remembers we’re back from contract and starts making up beat each other up again?”

Ayden hesitated for a moment. Jobs were one thing, these post-training or post-debriefing hangouts were another, that felt like it would be something else. There was a flash of old instinct there to put a line in the sand—Or at least redraw the line in the sand that they’d slowly erased over the previous year—but most of them didn’t want to. Somewhere along the line they’d stopped turning it down when Bea reached out a hand. And they didn’t really want to start again.

They said, “Yeah, ok,” and a bright smile stretched across Bea’s face.

“See you in the morning, then,” she said, and closed the door behind her.

Bea didn’t know what about the job had set Ayden off.

They worked well together, these days. Spent plenty of time in each other’s company; Ayden even sought her out so it didn’t feel so much like she was begging for scraps like it had. But there were still gaps there. She still didn’t know much of anything about their life before they’d joined the Crows, aside from the vague knowledge that they were Dalish, that they’d grown up with a clan. No one she’d spoken to had known any more detail than that. And some things were still strained, sometimes. Bea found a lot of joy in bumping up against Viago, slinging an arm around his shoulders, making him grumble and yet never push her off. She hadn’t found a similar balance with Ayden; sometimes they still tensed up, sometimes there was still something of a wall in their eyes when they saw her acting like that with Viago.

All to say; she didn’t know how to deal with them like this.

They were camping out, rather than staying in an inn. The target was part of an important family; too many people who might try and curry favour by catching those responsible for his death if they caught wind. They’d made the decision on the way into Seleny, when the mood had been a lot lighter. It hadn’t been a difficult contract either, not really. Viago had sent them both more as a safeguard than anyone else—If the mark was important always better to have two Crows on it than one. But he’d been an old man, his bedroom half turned into a ward with the amount of medicine on hand. Part of the family trying to keep him alive and obviously someone trying to get him dead faster.

Now, Ayden was pacing the boundaries of the campsite like a caged tiger.

They’d both cleaned up, at least. Washed off the worst of the blood, stowed their more obvious weapons. But Ayden was still flipping their mageknife back and forth in their hand. Ready for trouble. But there wasn’t any sign anyone had followed them, their plan had gone off without a hitch, Bea wasn’t sure what the trigger point had been.

“I think we’re good,” she said, when they next passed by the fire. “But I figure you want to take first watch?”

It got her a tight smile, insincere even in the flickering light. “Sure. You go to bed.”

A little bit of misplay on her end. She sighed, pushed herself to standing, moved towards them instead of towards the tent. They were facing away, arcing around in the figure-eight they’d been winding around since they’d finished cleaning up.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“Nothing,” they said. “Just pent up.”

“I’ve never seen you this antsy before,” she pointed out, and got a scathing look thrown back at her as a response. She said, “Ayden,” chiding, and when they came back to pass by her again she caught them by the shoulder.

They started, violently, enough to have her starting to pull away, sure she’d crossed a line. But then they pressed back hard into her palm.

Their pacing stopped. They took a deep breath; she felt their shoulder shift against her hand. But they didn’t step away.

She thought again about that look in their face when they saw her with Viago. They didn’t have that kind of dynamic with him. It’d been more than a year she’d been watching the two of them; she could definitely attest to that fact that they’d call him an idiot to his face—at least when there wasn’t anyone else around—but they mostly steered clear of even brushing up against him too close. The only times she saw them touch each other were sparring or if Ayden had a wound that needed stitching. She’d assumed that was just preference on both of their parts, considering Viago definitely wasn’t touchy and Ayden hadn’t ever seemed to be.

But they’d been practically raised by him, she remembered.

Maybe they just hadn’t had the option.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

Squeezed a little harder on their shoulder, stepped closer. They didn’t pull away but also didn’t look at her. She saw their throat move when they swallowed hard.

They said, “I’m—” before their voice caught and they cleared their throat. “Some jobs just get to you, y’know?”

It was a poor attempt at deflection, but Bea knew better than to push. No one needed their sore spots prodded at. She didn’t need whatever the reason was. Just to figure out how to distract them, to stop the fine tremble she could feel where they pressed into her hand. She remembered a year beforehand, them sitting pressed up against her spine while she laid with fresh stitches in her shoulder. They came with her when she pulled them back towards the fire; she pushed them to sit on the log beside where they’d built the fire. Sat down next to them, shoulders pressed tight together.

“I’m fine,” Ayden said. It wasn’t anything more convincing than anything else they’d been saying.

“Sure,” Bea said, instead of pushing. “Just, if you’re pacing so much, you’re going to keep me up.”

“I’m quiet,” they protested.

“Not really the point.”

She changed tack to the one she usually used on Viago; slung her arm around Ayden’s shoulders and tugged them in. They grumbled but didn’t pull away.

Part of Bea wondered if she could have been doing this the whole time.

“I thought you were going to bed,” they said.

“I will.”

“If you’re trying to get me to talk, I’m not going to.” Their tone had gotten even flatter. “You want a depressing conversation, you can start it.”

“Ok,” she said. Maybe it would at least be a good distraction from whatever it was spinning around in Ayden’s head. “The shitty situation I was in when Viago found me? I was there because my mother died." Her voice was crisp and clean from long practice. “She got sick.”

She felt it when Ayden’s gaze started to burn a hole in the side of their face. Looked down to meet them. Their brow was furrowed; all they did was meet her eyes for a long moment, then one ear swivelled forward and the other back, and they said, “Mine too.”

A bedroom that had half a doctors office in it, Bea thought. The air thick with the smell of ointments. Maybe one of them had been familiar.

“I’m sorry,” she said, sincerely.

Ayden looked away, huffed, and leant harder into her side. “Me too.”

“Want to spar?” Ayden asked, leaning against Bea’s doorframe.

Bea glanced up from whatever it was she was working on at her desk—Something involving vials that looked straight from Viago’s workbench—with an arched eyebrow.

“Go ask Viago.”

“No,” Ayden said.

Moved further into the room so they could drop down onto her bed and watch her from there.

“Ah,” she said, turning back to her work. “You’ve already asked him, he said no, and I’m your second choice.”

“Hey, second is still pretty high up there,” they said lightly.

They hadn’t asked Viago, though. He wasn’t the one they wanted to spend time with. The sparring was more of a suggestion than anything else, really. They flopped back so they were lying with their legs dangling off the edge of the bed. Kept their eyes idly on where she was sitting.

“You left your charcoal and everything in here by the way,” Bea said, absently.

The little bound book of blank parchment rested on her nightstand with the stick of charcoal placed neatly on top of it. They shifted just enough to grab it, paged through the pages they’d already used, little sketches from the last stakeout they’d done. Distracted themself adding details, darkening lines and shadows, just for the fun of it, until Bea leant back from her desk with a frustrated sound.

“You’re going to just sit there until I agree to come out with you, aren’t you?”

It didn’t sound like it was them she was annoyed at, Ayden thought. Whatever Viago had her mixing had to be complicated.

Which just meant she could use a break.

“I mean, I don’t have to,” they said.

Bea said, “I’m going to make you regret this. Your face is getting ground into the courtyard.”

Ayden grinned. “That’s if you can catch me,” they said, discarding their notebook and charcoal back on the nightstand and popping upright.

She led the way through the house towards the courtyard, threats bouncing back and forward between them all the way into the sun. Until they were standing opposite each other, each taking a long moment to size the other up. Like they didn’t have each other’s moves half-memorised.

Ayden grinned. Brought their fists up.

“There’s still time to back out,” they said.

Bea said, “Mm, no. You’re stuck with me now.”