Chapter Text
The integration between the Falconers and the forces of House Royce goes surprisingly well. Thjazi has to admit that a large part of that is not to the Royce themselves, as much as he adores his Nessa, but to General Davinos, who knows full well how to speak to soldiers and command their respect.
Unfortunately, General Davinos does come with one problem, who is fourteen years old, apparently fearless, and hates Thjazi’s guts, although Thjazi swears he has tried to establish some sort of rapport with the little shit.
As far as running off to get yourself in trouble on a battlefield at fourteen goes, it is fair to say that Thjazi doesn’t have any particular high ground to stand on here. But he swears he was not like this.
It does not help that Raimond keeps laughing, slapping his son on the back and saying variations of he sure is a Davinos every time Julien reappears from what was supposed to be a scouting mission blood-soaked and smug.
He is useful, yes. He is certainly an asset to the rebellion, even though Thjazi is almost entirely convinced Julien doesn’t actually know or care what they are fighting for. In fact, the primary thing Julien seems to be fighting for is to prove himself better than Thjazi at a series of murder-related metrics. The fact that Thjazi isn’t actually competing with him isn’t something he’s managed to convince Julien of yet.
He would like to say that Nessa could talk some sense into the lad, but in fact she makes him worse.
Case in point: when he ducks into the tent they are sharing, in a brief moment that they can have some time for themselves, except that it appears Julien Davinos is asleep at his wife’s feet, limbs sprawled about and head leaning against her knee.
Well, at least it appeared she made him sit still long enough to get properly bandaged up, which is the sort of miracle only Nessa can manage. Loza jokes they should make trying to get the boy medical treatment some sort of hazing ritual for new recruits to the healers corps. “Shouldn’t he be in some sort of bed?”
“He didn’t think it would be appropriate.” Nessa replies, with a soft smile.
Thjazi hadn’t, actually, meant their bed, although given the number of his friends who have crashed out in his bed, drunk or injured, over the years he supposes he shouldn’t make a fuss. Especially given the circumstances under which Julien had acquired his latest injury. “Serious question—did you order him to guard me?”
“Not directly.” Nessa says, which is one of those sentences that guarantees some sort of fae-house-vassal-fuckery is incoming. “I did remind him recently that as my husband, you are part of my family. I suppose he might have taken that as—well.”
Wonderful. “When he wakes up, can you please let him know that while it was appreciated, he does not have to protect me?” Ideally in a way that emphasises the concept of free will, so that Thjazi does not have to feel guilty if Julien should get it into his head to throw himself between Thjazi and a Cormoray spear again.
Julien stirs at her feet. “Wouldn’t have to if you didn’t suck.” he mutters. “Get good.”
Nessa, the absolute traitor, only laughs and strokes the boy’s hair as she murmurs the verbal component for Sleep to settle him back down. “He really is a Davinos.”
Thjazi bites back the retort to that one, but everyone needs to stop saying that as if it explains anything.
To add insult to injury, Julien gets along with pretty much everyone else. He fights with Thimble all the time, but it’s more the rough-and-tumble of two children on a playground than anything serious. He listens to Teor on matters of battle strategy, and to Kattigan on matters of the wilderness, gaze intense as they speak to him, keen to learn anything that will provide him with an edge in battle. He even gives Loza Blade the respect due her, his pretty manners all out on display.
Thjazi should perhaps not take it personally. He’s a child—only barely fifteen, the event not marked until three days after the fact when they’d drawn back to safety and Raimond had limped down to sit next to the fire and then suddenly lifted his head, remembering it all at once.
Thjazi is not in a competition with a boy who has had more head injuries than he has birthdays. But it sure feels personal. It must be about Nessa; it’s the only explanation that makes sense. Although the obvious explanation for why does not seem to sit entirely right. Julien does not act like a boy with a crush, around her. It’s not as simple as that.
Both Raimond and Nessa refuse to explain what the entire deal is with the Davinos and the Royce—not on purpose, merely like trying, he suspects, to get a fish to explain to you what wet is. Neither of them seem to acknowledge there is something very peculiar going on here.
“It’s like a really big promise that someone made a long time ago.” is the closest Thimble manages to an explanation. “It’s not proper magic or anything. He’s just human, and you can totally kill more Tachonis than him tomorrow. I believe in you.”
“For the last time, I am not encouraging the competition he made up.”
The Gallows Choir dump the kid on him like they’re trying to get rid of a lame horse, but that’s not the kid’s fault. War is a shitty place for an underfed boy, but it’s clear within about three seconds of talking to him that all of Azune Nayar’s options are, frankly, shit, shit, and more shit, so he might at least have one of the ones where there’ll be someone to watch his back.
He’s sharp-witted, and serious, and determined, and Thjazi quite likes him.
There’s just one problem, who is now sixteen years of age, and still hates Thjazi’s guts, although he’s gotten marginally subtler about showing it, especially around Nessa. At first, Thjazi kept an eye out from some mild concern that Julien might get it in his head to bully Azune, but there was none of that.
It’s worse, in that instead he immediately takes Azune under his dubiously-ethical, murder-focused and entirely lacking in self-preservation little wing, with the apparent intent to teach him things. Really, the last thing a kid with Azune’s complex about proving himself to be Useful requires is Julien Davinos’ opinions on what Useful looks like, in Thjazi’s opinion.
Of course, Thjazi’s opinion is less than dirt, in Julien’s eyes, so speaking against it would only encourage him. Instead, he keeps an eye, and gets Nessa or Teor to intervene when it seems like things are going a little too far.
The education Julien sees fit to provide to Azune falls into three main categories.
The first is things that make Thjazi go: well, I guess. Sneaking about and pocket sand and various conversations around how to identify weak points in armor. It would be nice if he didn’t stare at Thjazi that way while enumerating all the spots he would go for if he were to, theoretically, want Thjazi dead, but in principle the lessons are sound.
The second is things that have to be corrected the moment any actual adult overhears them, which mostly involve entirely inaccurate estimates of things like how many soldiers you should be able to take on by yourself, or whether or not blood loss is a problem, because apparently Julien believes that you can fully lose half your blood and it’s fine as long as you kill everyone before you pass out. Teor handles most of the corrections; someone who isn’t Thjazi reminding Julien that he can’t hold everyone to his high standards seems to be a fairly efficient strategy.
The third is things they don’t get to correct, because by the time anyone figures it out it is too late, like the first time Julien and Azune both disappear from camp and then come back a day and a half later, thankfully neither more than mildly injured. Julien announces cheerfully to everyone that Azune has been blooded and he’s a proper soldier now, then spends an hour arguing with his father as Raimond once more futilely tries to explain the concept of a grander strategy than find the nearest Halovar outpost and stab it.
“Just to be clear.” Thjazi tells Azune. “No matter what Julien Davinos says, you are not obligated to sacrifice yourself in battle for anyone. And neither is he, incidentally.”
Azune nods, although there’s a slight confusion in his eyes, like he’s trying to reconcile this information with whatever variant on having fear is for losers Julien has been filling his head with recently.
“You shouldn’t keep saying that while you still suck.” comes a voice from above them.
Thjazi sighs. “I know Nessa told you not to climb anything while your ribs are healing, Julien.” Not that Julien will listen to him, but he might as least try.
Not for the first time, he wishes Hal was here. Of all the things he’d worried about during a rebellion, feeling so keenly his lack of childrearing experience had not been one of them.
There are two bloodied teenagers asleep at Nessa’s feet, this time.
“They really ought to be off trying to steal apples from a neighbouring farm, not armaments from the Cormoray.” Thjazi says.
Nessa shrugs, smiles. “You’re not going to stop them, any more than anyone could have stopped you, dear husband. At least Azune’s magic offers some counterbalance for when Julien goes slightly overboard.”
As if Julien Davinos has ever gone slightly anything, Thjazi thinks, before his mind turns around and runs back up to the top of that sentence. “His what?”
“He’s a sorceror. I don’t recognise the bloodline, but it would explain why Julien took to him so.”
Would it, though? Thjazi thinks, although he knows there’s not much point in the argument. “Well, that’s—good, I guess.” If anyone is going to inherit power, then it might as well be someone like Azune Nayar. Instead of questioning it further, he carefully hops into the seat from the side to nestle into Aranessa’s side, and thankfully manages it without disturbing Julien. From here, he can see that beneath where Azune’s fingers lie curled around Julien’s forearm, there’s a patch of unblemished skin, stark amongst the usual assortment of bruises and scratches and scars Julien carries with him everywhere. Huh. Interesting.
Aranessa sighs happily and leans back into him, and Thjazi hopes beyond hope that the Cormoray do not come looking for their stolen weapons tonight, so the boys can at least get a full night's sleep for once. Yes, in the morning he’ll probably wake to see Julien staring him down and then pointedly quizzing Azune over breakfast about the ten best methods to kill someone in their sleep, but that’s practically normal around here.