Chapter Text
There are a lot of questions (and exclamations, and curses) likely to run through one's mind when waking up to find a rapier at one's throat, but the main one occupying Thjazi Fang's in this moment was: Has Raimond Davinos lost his mind?
The second, “Am I still dreaming?,” was probably more common, but so far, nothing Thjazi could see, hear, or feel, frozen in place on his bedroll in a much-patched tent in the Torn Banner's war camp, supported the idea that this was anything but reality.
Nothing, that is, except the child at the opposite end of the rapier.
Julien Davinos glowered at him along the length of the steel blade, vibrating with all the righteous fury that could fit into one slender ten-year-old.
“Hello, Julien,” said Thjazi, cautiously, keeping his voice too low to carry outside the tent. He could hear no sign of commotion from outside; no hint that the camp was under broader attack, nor that anyone had detected the infiltration of… a child assassin? No. Had Julien been here to kill, he could have attacked without waking him. “It's been a long time. It's nice to see you again.”
The boy bristled at the suggestion that their meeting was pleasant. “I,” he hissed, matching Thjazi's volume, “am bringing you to justice in the name of House Royce!”
Thjazi blinked. “I see,” he said, slowly. “…Did your father send you to do this?”
“No!”
Whatever Thjazi might think of Lord Royce's choices in this war, the idea of him sending a ten-year-old child of his vassal houses to capture the head of a rebellion was ludicrous. Not even the ill-equipped rebels or the more ruthless mercenary companies put ten-year-olds in combat. Julien must have concocted this scheme himself.
He had to hand it to him—the fact that he'd made it undetected, not just into the camp, but all the way into Thjazi's tent, was genuinely impressive. (Thjazi deliberately did not think about the process of finding which tent was Thjazi's and what could have happened had Julien been caught skulking about elsewhere first.) If he'd been here to murder Thjazi in cold blood, he could have easily done so. Thjazi doubted he would have gotten back out, since a nobleborn ten-year-old had probably never learned to slit a throat swiftly enough to avoid commotion (especially given that Julien was threatening Thjazi out of a perfect competition-dueling stance); still, he likely could have finished the job before help could arrive. The Liar's Blade, Thjazi noticed, had been moved well away before he awoke.
Now, capturing Thjazi and moving him from the center of Thjazi's own camp and mercenary forces back to wherever the closest Royce forces were arrayed was an entirely different story, even if Julien did have a blade to his throat for leverage.
(Come to think of it, Thimble should have been an impediment to either of those plans. Where was she?)
A clatter from elsewhere in camp made Julien flinch and whip a wide-eyed glance over his shoulder, although the rapier held steady. Thjazi probably should have taken the opportunity to knock it aside and grab the boy, but he remained still. Once he made a commotion, nearby members of the company would inevitably respond, and this would become a much bigger mess.
“It sounds pretty quiet out there,” commented Thjazi conversationally, “except for the folks who are always stirring by about this time. Do you have backup waiting or were you intending to march me out to wherever your allies are?”
A flicker of uncertainty ran over the boy's face, and the silvery blade aimed at Thjazi's throat wavered ever-so-slightly. Yep. Hadn't thought this through that far.
“Might I please sit up while we discuss the logistics of my arrest?” Thjazi asked politely.
Julien froze, and Thjazi waited patiently. Julien wasn't stupid—letting Thjazi move would dangerously erode Julien's tenuous leverage over a fully grown soldier… but turning him down flat invited a test of just how tenuous that leverage was.
Julien's eyes darted briefly to the Liar's Blade, far out of Thjazi's reach on the other side of the tent. He shuffled a step back, withdrawing the rapier from Thjazi's throat without lowering it, and nodded curtly.
Thjazi pushed himself slowly upright, keeping his hands visible and relaxed, until he sat cross-legged with his back to the canvas wall of the tent.
“May I ask where Thimble is?” he asked, with careful mildness. “I would've expected her to be here at this hour, but you wouldn't have made it this far if you hadn't accounted for things like that. I do hope she hasn't been hurt.”
“She's fine,” Julien snapped. “The pixies promised to keep her occupied.”
Oh, good. He hadn't launched this scheme entirely without backup.
Thjazi took stock. Julien had a rapier pointed at him and possibly a hostage, depending on the arrangement struck with the other pixies. The fact that he hadn't threatened Thimble as leverage suggested that wasn't part of the plan, so he likely had no means to communicate with the pixies from here, but they would notice if he failed to return.
And if pixies helping Julien knew the location of their camp, then it was only a matter of time before the forces of House Royce would be informed.
The tent flap swept brusquely aside, taking them both by surprise. Loza Blade ducked through with a gangly auburn-haired teen on her heels. “Thjazi, the supply wagon—”
Her words died in her throat, and for a moment a tense, startled silence reigned as Loza and Azune took in the scene before them: Thjazi sitting quietly on his bedroll as a skinny child in Davinos purple threatened him at swordpoint.
“Loza,” Thjazi warned, extending a hand to urge restraint.
His other hand snaked out, lightning-fast, to clamp around Julien's hand and the rapier hilt within it. The distraction of the new arrivals was enough—Julien twisted in Thjazi's grasp, a hair too late in his attempt to dodge, but Thjazi surged to his feet with firm control over the rapier and a solid grip on the back of Julien's tunic to keep him from breaking free.
For the first time since Thjazi had awoken to a blade at his throat—for the first time ever—Thjazi looked into Julien Davinos' eyes and saw genuine fear of him, and it felt like a knife to the guts. He softened his hold on Julien's arm, not enough to risk him pulling free but enough to ensure he wasn't causing pain, and offered a sad, crooked smile. “Bad luck, kid. It's not going to pan out the way you planned, but it'll be OK.”
“Thjazi?” said Loza warily from the door.
Thjazi sighed, pivoting back towards her without taking his entire attention off of Julien—if he'd made it this far, plus arranging a pixie kidnapping, Thjazi couldn't put it past him to have brought a secondary weapon.
“As you have probably deduced,” said Thjazi, “we have been discovered and infiltrated by a…” He groped for a sufficiently accurate word that would not insult the boy. “…fighter of House Davinos. This location is compromised—the camp needs to pack up and get on the move immediately.” He glanced down at the silent child in his grip. “And someone needs to speak to the sentries to make sure this doesn't happen again.”
“We'll get it done,” said Loza wearily. “And what's your plan for the Davinos…” Loza clearly had a similar dilemma of phrasing. “…gentleman?”
Thjazi could feel a slight shiver run through Julien, no doubt imagining the fates that might await an infiltrator caught in an enemy camp.
Thjazi sighed. “I think it is probably time for me to meet with House Royce."
Julien and Azune both gasped, but Loza simply grunted a resigned acknowledgement.
The rebellion was failing.
They'd had this discussion, as the tide turned steadily against them. Of late, it seemed they never stopped having this discussion, not even when it was wordless due to listening ears. The question was no longer whether the rebels would fall; it was how and when and what strategy had the best chance of softening the landing.
This was not how he wanted things to go. Julien should not be involved in any of this. Azune should not be involved in it, and he was a solid five years older. But… if Thjazi had to surrender to the Sundered Houses to end this war, then accompanying Julien back to his liege house was not the worst option: Julien would be safe; none of the Sundered House sorcerers who had torn into his forces with abandon would be able to claim the glory of his capture, and, assuming House Royce still placed any value on honor, Thjazi making this sacrifice to return of one of their vassals' children safe should earn some shreds of mercy for his soldiers.
He met Azune's eyes, willing him to understand the implied I'm sorry. “Would you please tack up my horse while Loza gets everyone else moving? I'll collect him by that lightning-struck oak next to the stream.”
Azune nodded silently, eyes worried.
Loza was silent for a moment as he slipped back out of the tent. “You want to know where we're heading?”
“Best that I don't, and essential that he doesn't, not even in code,” said Thjazi, nodding towards Julien. He paused. “If it goes better than I expect, Thimble and I will find you. If not, Thimble should.”
Loza nodded. She eyed Julien wearily, one eyebrow raised, “I don't suppose you'll tell me which direction you sneaked in from, so I know which sentries need a talking-to?”
Julien stiffened in Thjazi's grip, chin coming up stubbornly.
“Figured as much,” said Loza, with a shrug, “but worth asking. Be careful, Thjazi.”
Alone again in the tent, Thjazi crouched down next to Julien, still holding his rapier arm but releasing the other hold.
He glowered suspiciously. “What do you mean you're going to meet with House Royce?”
“I mean,” said Thjazi, “that we're going to go the nearest forces of House Royce, or Davinos or Elbrendi or whoever you planned to bring me to, and you can turn me in. I'm not going to leave my entire company to be caught out if I have another choice, but you went for a capture instead of a kill, and I owe you something for that.” He couldn't decide whether he felt despair or relief at the open skepticism in Julien's face. Probably both. Anyone diving into a war needed be wary, but the younger Julien he remembered, from before the rebellion, would have trusted him without reservation. “Now, put your hood up and pull your cloak around you so you don't look like a Davinos. I'll take your rapier until we're out of my camp.”
“That's one of our horses!” said Julien indignantly, when they rounded the last of the wagons. The fae-touched white horse was tacked up in plain, unembellished tack rather than Sylvan-embroidered Royce finery, but even people far from contact with House Royce could tell on sight that it was something special.
“From the Golden Orchard, yes, but given to me as a gift, so technically mine.”
Julien eyed him with disgust. “Because you married Lady Aranessa, not so you could go betray everyone.”
“Mm-hmm.” He boosted Julien into the saddle, eliciting an offended squawk, and swung up behind him. “Did you come all the way on foot or do you have a pony somewhere?”
“You're not even going to deny it,” said Julien incredulously.
Thjazi sighed. “Did you walk here or ride?” he repeated.
“…I have a pony.”
“Good. Point the way. Pony or Thimble, whichever is closer.”
As the horse picked up speed in the direction Julien indicated, Thjazi turned Julien's accusation over in his mind. “Regarding my 'betrayal,'” he began, and he felt the boy go still at the unexpected return to the topic, “I'm not going to deny that that is how House Royce views it, and since they chose to ally with the rest of the Sundered Houses, it's not inaccurate. That's not how I hoped this would go, and I have my reasons for what I've done, but, no, I'm not going to try to convince you. Because you're ten, and a vassal to House Royce…” He raised his volume as Julien bristled and started to argue. “I don't recruit ten-year-olds to fight my wars,” he said firmly, “so the only thing I'd be doing by arguing the point is trying to turn you against your family and your liege house for no good reason. If you really want answers, you can ask Aranessa. She knows my reasons.”
Thimble streaked towards them at top speed. “Thaz! Thaz, hurry! Loza's heading towards Maharlian Falls, and that's where Royce is! They're going to be seen before I can get to them!”
“What?! I—We're going!” Thjazi spurred his horse forward, straining for some glimpse of what was ahead. “Try to get to Loza—any warning's better than none! Tell them to get out if they can!”
Behind him, Julien barked a breathless order in Sylvan at the pony, and Thjazi's horse swiveled an ear back at the familiar words. Thjazi held it back just enough from a full run for the pony to keep up; fortunately the pony was Orchard-bred as well, with a well-schooled rider, so they sacrificed little speed, still covering ground far faster than any common horses.
Thjazi pulled up as soon as he crested the ridge to get the lay of the situation. Thimble was right—House Royce's scouts had evidently already spotted the Torn Banner's approach. Men at arms hastily cinched up armor and readied weapons; sorcerers buffed their vassals, and the entire company milled into position for an ambush.
He glanced down at Julien as he halted beside Thjazi and took in the scene with wide eyes. Apprehensive eyes, Thjazi was glad to see—Julien had been a little daredevil since the day Thjazi had met him (one of the things he'd loved about the kid), but even a boy who'd thought he could capture Thjazi Fang in his own tent could tell this was far over his head.
One less life to be on Thjazi's head when this became a bloodbath, then.
They were too late for the plan now. Strolling in as Julien's “prisoner” was a plan to spring on a quiet and unsuspecting encampment, not a company prepped and seconds away from battle. Even if they didn't shoot Thjazi dead before he could reach them, he would have no time to negotiate before the Torn Banner hit their trap, so it would simply hand them a free hostage before they turned to slaughter his company. In his peripheral vision, he saw Julien glance up at him uncertainly, but he didn't seem inclined to push the “bringing Thjazi to justice” point either in this moment.
Still, Thjazi had to do something.
Loza was trying to move the company somewhere safer. Whether or not Thimble reached them in time with his message, she would disengage if she could without simply becoming prey to be chased. Which meant they needed something else to occupy the Royce forces' attention.
Something flashy. Something important.
Something coming from a completely different direction than their ambush.
He looked down at the boy beside him, wearing clear Davinos colors aside from the plain cloak he'd chosen as disguise and riding a snow-white pony from the Golden Orchard with Sylvan runes on its tack. And very clearly a child. Unless the Royce-led forces were blind, Julien should be about as recognizable as not an enemy combatant as it was possible to be.
If Julien came to harm from this hare-brained plan, Thjazi would never forgive himself (and neither would Aranessa or Raimond), but there were many more, including other children, who would come to harm if Thjazi did nothing.
He leaned down and popped the clasp on Julien's cloak open before he could flinch away, tossing the cloak well clear of both horses. “You know how to use that rapier on horseback?”
“What? I—yes?”
“Good. You said you were going to bring me to justice. Come and get me. You can take the horse back, too.” And with that, Thjazi kicked his horse into a lope directly towards the heart of the Royce forces.
Julien's response was an inarticulate sputter behind him, but Thjazi could hear the pony accelerate into a flat-out gallop in pursuit, gaining on him. They would make a distracting spectacle regardless, but not necessarily enough to sell Thjazi's “capture” as belonging to Julien.
Unless Julien took the hint.
Disorder roiled through the forces ahead, arrayed for a tidy ambush, as they clocked the two horses hurtling towards them from a completely unanticipated direction. The hoofbeats behind Thjazi grew nearer as Julien's pony slowly closed the gap.
They were almost to the Royce forces. Apparently, he wasn't going to—
The Sylvan command to halt rang out crisp and clear and commanding, in a voice that had spoken that tongue since birth, and Thjazi's horse faltered. Its momentum checked abruptly when Thjazi did nothing to countermand the order. A split-second later, a pony crashed into its side and a smaller figure crashed into Thjazi.
As the world flipped upside-down, Thjazi yanked Julien against his chest. He hit the ground shoulder first, tucking and rolling to carry them further from the flailing hooves, bracing his arm to keep Julien from being crushed underneath him.
When the dust settled enough for anyone else to make sense of the confusion, Thjazi Fang lay on his back in the dirt with the Liar's Blade nearly ten feet out of reach, and Julien Davinos stood over him on unsteady feet with his own rapier still secure in a trembling hand.