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Ozma awoke to golden light streaming through the palace bedroom window.
It was later than they were usually expected to rise, but after their victory against Hismar, they were granted a few weeks to rest and recuperate. He sluggishly opened his eyes as he registered a weight next to him.
These days, that would usually be a cause for concern, if he hadn't seen the strands of long, blonde hair from the body next to him. Gold mixing with Ozma's Violet.
The mage gently shifted until he was facing said weight. Khazan was still asleep, sheets pooling around his midsection. His face,for once, lacked the usual constant scowl, and his breaths were even and calm.
It quickly became apparent though, who these few weeks of rest was truly for, as Ozma looked at the various bandages covering his lovers arms and torso.
The Mage himself had some injuries his own, but Khazan was on the front lines, and had taken so much more than what will ever show on his body. Ozma was thankfully able to heal many of his wounds, but he could only do so much on an active battlefield with dwindling supplies.
The Great Mage then reached out to the general. sliding a stray lock of hair away from his face, he rubbed his thumb across the scar that lay across the other mans cheek. It was such a rare thing, to see the mans face so serene, which made the moment all the more intimate.
Khazan twitched slightly in response to Ozma's movements, eyelashes fluttering as a small sigh escaped from parted lips. Ozma had half the mind to kiss those lips, but instead settled for his forehead as he got up to begin his morning routine
He settled at the vanity across from the bed and began working through knots in his hair. Ozma always treasured his mornings, the familiar routine a lighthouse in the storm that was life. He also tended to take this time to reflect, and at the moment, he could not help but think back to when this had all started.
To When they first met.
Two years ago, a summons from the emperor, and the beginning of one of the largest conquests in Pell Los history.
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It made complete sense. The Berserk Dragon Hismar was a blight upon the region and was only getting worse. Uniting the Sorcerers Guild and the Army of Pell Los was the best chance anyone had of taking the beast down.
Upon first meeting the "Great General Khazan" however, Ozma held nothing but contempt for the man, and the feeling was very much mutual.
When Khazan arrived at the palace, everyone waited with baited breath. His steps were heavy, and his composure spoke to his years of experience in service of the empire.
As the man approached Ozma, the Great Mage noticed that Khazan stood a few centimeters shorter than him, yet the high ponytail he sported seemed to make up the difference. His face seemed stuck in a permanent scowl as he looked the mage up and down, as if to say THIS is all they give me?
Ozma would not be intimidated however, he may have been quite young for a Great Mage -being only 36- but he worked hard to get where he is, and he was not going to let himself get pushed around, much less by this brute!
So, unsurprisingly, the first few months of their partnership were less than amicable. Between strategy meetings and amassing volunteers, they would often lock horns on how they ran things.
But the biggest thing the two disagreed on was how they trained their troops.
The law dictated that Sorcerers are not to be taught any violent spells other than ones for self defense. Any tome containing such incantations was to be kept under lock and key, only accessible to Great Mages and only used in desperate circumstances with consent from the emperor.
As these times counted as desperate circumstances, Ozma was given the responsibility of teaching their magically inclined these spells. Since these mages were not made for war, they also had to receive physical and combat training in order to survive on the battlefield. This duty was placed on Khazan.
The spells had taken Ozma months to get down,let alone master, so they started early. Ozma led with a gentle hand,prioritizing accuracy over speed. These spells could be incredibly unstable, and they couldn't afford casualties.
Khazan, on the other hand, led with an iron fist. Brutal days mixed with little to no rest. Drills upon drills and seemingly endless marches through rugged terrain.
While Ozma didn't quite respect him, he trusted Khazan enough to know what he was doing, even though many of his mages came back utterly exhausted and with minor injuries.
But when an accident at the guild almost cost many Mages their lives, he was forced to step in.
"All im asking is to cut them a bit of slack" Ozma explained to after a meeting in the war room "a faulty spell almost took someone's arm off yesterday!"
" well then it seems that particular Mage isn't cut out for magic then" Khazan replied absentmindedly, facing away from Ozma to study a map on the wall.
"These incantations require intense focus and mental energy to cast, and its a bit difficult to focus when you've been beaten black and blue!"
The general whipped around to face him from across the room, looking irritated "while I would LOVE to hold their hands through every single exercise, that Dragon is only getting closer and bolder"
The man then pointed to the map. Specifically to a village that was recently ransacked by Dragonkin.
"Time is of the essence, and, with all due respect, these mages of yours are far from battle-ready. They need all the help they can get"
The Great Mage scoffed "I would hardly call what your doing 'help'" he snapped, doing air quotes for emphasis.
"This brutality... if anything? one would think you had a Deathwish for these people!"
A barely observable flinch. A beat of silence.
Then, the General stormed towards him.
Ozma recoiled, expecting to be struck. But instead, all he felt was Khazan's forefinger digging into his chest as the other man leered up at him.
"I am brutal in here so they do not get brutalized out there..!" Khazan snarled "These are men and women volunteering to fight for our cause despite having absolutely no experience with war. I push them hard so they have the greatest chance of coming home to their families once this is all over-"
The General paused, then sighed and took a step back, looking away.
"its honorable, their choice. I only wish for them to be able to savor the victory"
Ozma just stood there for a few moments, taking in what had been said.
The man's tone was harsh, but laced with a violent, almost maternal, protectiveness. The aloof facade the General had maintained thus far seemed to crack right before his eyes.
So this is the true Great General Khazan?
The Great Mage took a few steps toward the blonde, placing a hand on his shoulder, leaning in close.
"I understand your proclivities, but in my 10 years of teaching at the Guild... I've learned that a little patience and understanding can do wondrous things for ones learning" Ozma softly spoke.
It was an olive branch. An extended hand to hopefully bridge the gap that had plagued them for months now.
The Great Mage then promptly left the room, and could feel the general's ruby eyes on the back of his head the entire way out.
Ozma honestly didn't expect much change, yet when his mages started arriving to training more energized and determined, he couldn't help but think there was more to the Great General than he once thought. Even Khazan's right hand -Tristan if he remembered correctly- came to him to ask about their conversation. Stating how the Great General started giving them longer breaks and was more patient towards slip-ups.
Ozma, in turn, was able to push the Mages a bit harder, resulting in them completing both forms of training faster than both men had anticipated.
From then on, the preparations had gone smoothly and before they knew it, they were fighting dragonkin.
The Mages had integrated well into the emperor's army, and were already making headway against Hismar's forces.
Ozma and Khazan also began to grow accustomed to each other, and they eventually grew close enough to call each other friends.
They spent their days on the battlefield, Khazan in front, and Ozma taking up the rear. their armies reclaiming lost territory and making progress towards Hismar's lair. During the night, however, the two men would talk late into the evening. At first only about upcoming battles or camp maintenance, but slowly grew to include almost anything and everything.
Eventually, the topic of Reese came up, and Ozma felt strangely compelled to clear the air about his fiancé. Explaining that, while she is a dearly cherished friend, their marriage was one of convenience, rather than romance.
What was stranger still, was the barely visible release of tension in Khazan's shoulders, almost as if in relief.
Its funny, now, remembering that moment while the man in question is sleeps in his bed.
But it still took time before either man realized their feelings for the other, and it took even longer before either of them confessed.
It wasn't until the eve of their final battle with Hismar, that Khazan arrived upon the doorstep of his tent, holding two goblets of wine.
As they drank, they talked about the next day's plans, as well as what they would do if they miraculously lived to tell the tale. The wine was only enough to feel a pleasant buzz, but was enough to make Ozma a bit bolder.
If this was to be his last night on earth, then he didn't want to spend it obsessing over what-ifs, which eventually lead to Ozma's lips meeting Khazan's.
As well as Khazan's neck, chest, stomach, thighs-
Well… let's just say weary soldiers getting in some last minute training wasn't the only swordplay to happen that night
And so here they were, bruised and bloody, but alive. Slated to meet with the emperor today to report on their victory. The death of Hismar allowed the citizens of Pell Los to dream of the future again.
and he guessed…that meant them too.
He looked over at the sleeping figure through the vanity mirror, imagining what he would tell Reese, how would she react? Would her and Khazan get along? Had she possibly found a love of her own in the time they had been gone?
These thoughts were interrupted, however, when he heard a knock on his door.
Keeping the door strategically ajar to keep the sleeping General out of sight, he greeted the person on the other side. It was one of the castle staff, holding a note decorated with the Guild's seal.
He quickly thanked the server and opened the letter, finding out it was from one of their spies. The Guild had eyes everywhere, including ones monitoring nobles, with this particular spy being responsible for monitoring the Emperor himself.
This couldn't be good. These sorts of things are usually handled by a surveying officer. To have this delivered directly to him spoke of something ominous.
He was about to read the letter further, when he heard the sound of sheets shifting from behind him.
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Khazan awoke to golden light streaming through the palace bedroom window.
His body ached immensely, but it was a satisfying ache. The type that you only feel after achieving something.
And gods knew they had.
He slowly sat up, trying his best not to disturb his stitches, and looked to where Ozma should have been. Upon finding that side of the bed empty, however, the General scanned the room before finally laying his eyes on the other man by the door.
He looked breathtaking in this light. His dark hair shimmered and his skin looked more vibrant than it had in weeks, The simple silk robe he also wore left almost nothing to the imagination.
He was studying what looked to be a letter in his hands, but the Great Mage looked away from it in favor of observing the blonde. “Ah, good morning! How are you feeling?” Ozma inquired as he made his way to the bed. A calm smile graced the man's features, a smile Khazan could worship until the end of his days.
Khazan yawned, stretching his less injured limbs “not terrible. Still feels like I got mauled by a dragon, though” he replied, tone laced with mirth.
That got a chuckle out of both of them, before the General asked “what was that letter about, if you don't mind me asking?” pointing to the parchment still in Ozma's hand.
Ozma looked at the letter, then up again “oh nothing important! Just routine Guild business, but it can wait. They should know not to contact me when I'm on leave …do you want help changing your bandages?” he replied, hastily shoving the note in a vanity drawer as he did so.
Khazan raised an eyebrow at the change in subject, but decided to drop it for now. He trusted Ozma to inform him if it was urgent. For now, he agreed to help as he moved towards the edge of the bed, Ozma in tow with the medical supplies the healers had given him.
It never got easier, the transition back to normal life after so long on the battlefield. But he didn't have to go it alone this time, and they had the luxury of being able to slow down for once.
For they had all the time in the world…
right?