Archive of Our Own

Prince Ryland watches the tents being erected in the fairgrounds outside the castle from the window of his study, chewing absentmindedly one one of his nails. He wishes he could say he's excited for the events that are planned for the days to come, but the looming pit of dread in his stomach is threatening to consume him as he thinks about the end goal. 

"Are we sure this is absolutely necessary?" He had asked.

"Wars have been fought over less," was Lady Eva's reply, her tone flat.

It was all very perfunctory, the way the meetings went when Ryland deigned to sit in on them (i.e. when Eva dragged him from his laboratory once a month to make an appearance). The ruling council had been founded by the queen years before Ryland was even a thought in the minds of the royal family. By all normal rights, he should have been nowhere near the throne in the first place, but the untimely demise of his family had landed the weight of that responsibility squarely - and uncomfortably - on his shoulders.

Ryland had been more than happy to let Eva and her team of experts keep ahold of the reins. The only subject that had been a contention point was the exact subject that is now being prepared for outside his home, where the whole city can see.

The festivities will be surrounding a tournament, where anyone who wishes may enter to partake in a series of challenges and compete against other participants. The winner takes home the ultimate prize: the hand of the ascendant crown prince, on his way to the throne in three months' time.

This, Ryland is significantly less thrilled about.

He understands the concept of his betrothal, of course! Law dictates the country's leader be accompanied by a warrior of their own great renown. His father had been an accomplished knight, and his mother had been, if the stories were to be believed, absolutely enamored by her Chosen Blade. It was the safest way to ensure that the royal line was protected, to have someone at the side of the throne who was dedicated and present at all times, willing to defend their sovereign to the last breath.

He just hates the idea that he will be subjected to it.

There's a sharp knock at the door to his study and he jumps, spinning to look at the door and quickly smoothing out his shirt. The heavy overcoat he was wearing when he entered the room is draped across his chair on the other side of the room, where he'd left it when it started getting in the way of his work.

"Enter," he calls across the room.

The soldier assigned to him for the morning opens the door. He's a bit shorter than Ryland, his dark hair pulled back from his equally dark eyes. His expression is sharp - it always is, Ryland has never seen him unfocused - and he tilts his head as if gesturing to someone behind him as he speaks.

"Your Grace, the Esteemed Architect and the Esteemed Engineer seek audience."

Ryland brightens immediately, loosening his presentable stance to something more comfortable. "Oh, thank you Simon! Send them in, the distraction is very welcome, today of all days."

Simon looks mildly exasperated, and Ryland knows why, but the soldier does as he's told and steps out of the room. Moments later, two figures sweep in and Ryland greets them with a smile and outstretched arms.

"Rocky!"

The Esteemed Engineer - Sir Halvard 'Rocky' of Lien - nearly knocks the prince off his feet in their haste to meet him, gathering Ryland up in a tight hug that makes him wheeze with laughter. Rocky's partner, the Esteemed Architect (Sir Adrian of Fjeld), follows him inside with a hinted smile that for them, portrays the same amount of boisterous energy.

"Good morning, Your Grace," Adrian offers a shallow bow once Ryland's feet are on the ground once more.

"Morning, Grace," Rocky chirps with significantly less honor to his tone. Ryland shoves him and waves off his partner.

"Please, Adrian, you know I hate that. You've known me far too long to be calling me a title, just Ryland is fine."

Of his ruling council, he has always been closest with these two. Rocky has always been far more willing than most to let Prince Ryland poke around their workshop, and the two of them are what Lady Eva would refer to as 'horrifically inseparable'. Rocky is Ryland's best friend, and Adrian seems to like him just as much, if only for the fact that he makes their partner smile and chatter like few others can.

"And yet my beloved calls you your title every day," Adrian points out, their blue-gray eyes sparkling with amusement. 

"Doesn't count." Rocky shakes his head with a laugh, patting Ryland on the shoulder before sauntering over to the worktable that has been abandoned for more than a few minutes. "Your Grace is the title, just Grace is teasing his highness's two left feet."

"Two left feet I am trying to train. I've gotten better, you just don't want to give me any room to wiggle."

"Going from terrible to bad is only a pinch of improvement."

Ryland groans and slumps down into one of the chaises against the wall, watching as Rocky pokes curiously around his workspace. The engineer is always interested in what he's working on... even if he has some thoughts on the designs every time. "And here I thought you were going to have something to distract me from all that-" he gestures to the window. "But you're just going to harass your sovereign?"

Rocky snorts loudly and Adrian smacks him with the end of their sleeve.

"Eva asked us to check on you. No one's heard from you since yesterday." The taller councilperson hums. "Everyone knows you are... less than excited about the prospect of the tournament, Ryland, but you can't stop the progress by holing yourself into your study."

"Even if I found a way to grow my own food in here and never left again?" Ryland asks halfheartedly.

Adrian frowns and tugs the back of Rocky's collar to get their attention back to the matter at hand. The two cross the room to sit down on either side of their crown prince, and they lay a hand on Ryland's shoulder gently.

"Tell us what's wrong."

"No secrets," Rocky adds sharply as Ryland opens his mouth to speak. "We want to help, but you have to be honest."

Ryland stares down at his hands in his lap as the two wait patiently. He appreciates that about them, no amount of his own stumbling over his words and trying to phrase things in the clearest way has ever deterred them. They let him take his time and explain himself on his terms, in his tune.

"It's a few things," he finally mumbles. Adrian nods encouragingly and Rocky tilts his head down until he can see his eyes. "The tournament is so... insincere. 'This prize to be won, this honor to hold!' It's just me. I'm only interesting because I'm alone."

They both begin to protest but he shakes his head quickly. "That's not all, I just can't... I don't know what I'm going to do, when there's a winner. If there's a winner, what if no one even joins? Who would want to, anyway?"

Rocky thunks their temple down lightly on Ryland's shoulder. "Last bit doesn't matter, Eva has applications on her desk already. She and Ava have been conferring."

Somehow that makes the ache in Ryland's chest worse. People worth their salt must be signing up if the spymaster is taking a look through the applicants, and what worth is he going to be to a hardened soldier? 

"There's a lot of work going into it, just for someone to be sorely disappointed."

"Disappointed? For what reason?" Rocky lifts his head, expression tight now. "Many good things about you would get the attention of that someone."

Adrian cuts in gently before Ryland can protest. "You have a right to your terms, Your Grace. You are not required to do anything for whomever wins. Their obligation is to your safety, at all personal cost, but you decide what you give back to them."

"It's a marriage, isn't it?" Ryland shakes his head. "There has to be some expectation."

"I think you can talk that out with whomever wins." the Architect smiles and reaches across Ryland to take Rocky's hand. "Arrangement does not have to mean an unhealthy relationship."

They make such a perfect pair, it's easy to forget sometimes that their own marriage was arranged. Ryland sighs and puts his hand on top of both of theirs.

"I don't think I'll get so lucky."

Adrian ruffles his hair. "Don't be so sure... you should make an appearance today, Your Grace. For your own health as well as to appease the court."

"Fine," the prince whines in exasperation. "I'll see Eva and Ava after I eat."

"Good good good!" Rocky taps him lightly on the forehead as he stands. "Too much time in here, you could wither away among your beakers. Would be stupid, statement."

Ryland scoffs and gets to his feet alongside Adrian. "Would be perfect, statement. Lay me to rest with my glassware."

The walk back from Eva's office, where she and Ava were voraciously hunting down names of tournament applicants amongst dusty records of every jailor within miles, takes a detour. Despite Ryland's protesting that he would love nothing more than to be shut away in his laboratory, the sunlight on his skin is a heavenly feeling, so he wanders in the direction of the garden. Simon shadows him, silent as ever as his pace matches the prince's.

"May I ask a question, Your Grace?"

Ryland looks up in surprise, having been completely engrossed watching a bee dig it's way into the center of one of the clusters of flowers that drape off the large bush next to the bench he's taken his seat on. Simon so rarely talks to him, aside from the on-again-off-again complaint that the prince won't let him attend to his work properly (i.e. force every single person, council included, to offer a daily passphrase to even speak to him).

"Of course! Ask whatever you'd like, I can always - well I'll answer to the best of my ability, there are some things I just don't know, I'm really more of a figurehead than anything at the moment- but you know that! I can give you a straight answer if I know the answer, of course, I'm sure I've retained enough from my studies even if it's not entirely solid."

Simon waits until Ryland pauses to breathe before interjecting. "I don't understand the purpose of this tournament... why have it if you are so against it?"

Ryland deflates a little. What he wouldn't give to stop talking about the darned thing! But he said he would answer, and this is an answer he knows.

"You don't have to-" Simon is ever watchful, and noticed the reaction. Ryland shakes his head quickly.

"No no, it's alright! The tournament is traditional here. The whole thing is built on ancient laws, and more than a bit of Eridian superstition, because of historical violence and, um... you know."

He falters in his explanation, sneaking a sidelong glance at his chaperone. He knows full well that the reason Simon doesn't know or understand this tradition is because he isn't Eridian, and the tradition in fact does stem, if records are to be believed, from violence carried out by Simon's own country of Eden. Ryland is aware that the guard carries no love for their northern neighbor, but he can't help a twinge of regret at the words as they slip out and he sees Simon's expression go carefully blank.

"Anyway," Ryland hurriedly continues, "Eridian customs dictate that a ruler shall be safest when held close and watched over by a warrior of great renown at all times. Interpretations of the more ancient references to this are more ambiguous, but generally this is assumed to mean that anyone who ascends to the throne should be wed to a soldier, preferably one with great achievement or experience. Usually, as I understand it, the heir in question is more well acquainted with those who enter the tournament, but I uh. I've never been much of a show pony." Or interested in leaving the castle, much less speaking to battle-hardened knights. He's sure they would find him strange and difficult in more ways than one.

"So it is an arranged marriage by proxy of seeing who can do the most damage to the others?"

"Yes? Well- no, it's more than that. There are a series of physical challenges, yes, but there are a few that are... strategy, I guess? The one I've heard about that I find the most interesting is a mock-up of a battle, each contestant will be asked to place troops and defend a position based on their understanding of the situation, and react to any irregularities the council has briefed the participating fighters on beforehand."

Simon wrinkles his nose a bit, as if he doesn't like that answer. "And they just let anyone apply?"

"Yes and no! The requirements are bare minimum, so interested parties are encouraged to offer their interest early. Then Lady Eva and Spymaster Ava-" the guard's expression sours further, he and Ava are... less than cordial to each other on a good day, "can make sure that there's no history of nefarious activities, or anything like that."

"Nefarious... activities...?"

"Like treason or something along those lines!" Ryland, as he often has in his life, realizes too late the punch is words carry with them. He winces and quickly shakes his head, waving a hand in front of him as if it will erase the sentence from the air. "Treason against Erid, obviously, the concern is that an applicant may use the tournament as a long con to get close to a sovereign to hurt them for the good of another country-"

"I get it." Simon interrupts him curtly. Ryland tries so hard not to look at the burn mark on the soldier's neck.

"It isn't foolproof, the law dictates that there be an allowance for last minute challengers during the opening ceremony of the tournament. But by vetting the pre-existing applicants, generally the thought process is that enough experienced blades will be interested that anyone trying to slip in last minute for less-than-honorable reasons will be rooted out by the competition."

"So anyone can apply."

Ryland sighs, looking at the flowers again. "I guess." He can't deny that hasn't been part of his concern the whole time.

"And the guard who already takes shifts at your door, watches your meals, checks your bathhouse, they're considered insufficient?"

"Hard to get to a threat to the throne faster than someone in bed with the throne." The prince shrugs.

"Right." Simon sounds incredibly unimpressed. 

They lapse into silence, watching the flowers sway in the wind.

"Good people of Erid, join us in celebrating this momentous day! His Royal Highness Prince Ryland, stands before you to be crowned king in less than a season's time, and as such, we must begin the preparations! This means, of course, it is time for the Tournament of Heart!"

Ryland hates that name, but history is history and he's not allowed to protest it. He sits on the platform that has been built alongside the tournament grounds, Ava to his left and Eva to his right. Rocky and Adrian are nearby, as is Carl, the general who leads the royal guard. All of his favorite babysitters... about to find him a new one. The rest of the council stands at the back of the platform, watchful.

There are several contestants who were approved for the tournament, and they stand to the side waiting their turn to be called forward. There hasn't been a coronation in Ryland's lifetime, obviously, but he swears this is more dramatic than the whole debacle should be as the opening ceremony drags onward and onward. The entirety of the royal guard is standing at attention across the front of the platform, on ground level, and he can't imagine how uncomfortable they are in their full kit in the heat. He's sweating in the shade, even with an attendant flicking a fan at him.

Eva is the one to announce the names of the warriors vying for Ryland's... attention? Hand? Whatever it may be they're after. The Leading Lady of the Council is, as always, precise and even-toned as she presents the public with their potential Chosen Blades and the fighters step up onto the platform. Rocky mutters something to Adrian off to the side and Ryland wishes he were close enough to share in whatever was said that has the Esteemed Architect covering the lower half of their face with their hand.

Finally, Eva turns to the crowd. "Here now, as we present our warriors, is the time for action. Before the tournament begins, should any other knight or fighter wish to participate, present yourself with your experience and your honor!"

There is a heartbeat of silence. Eva begins to turn to address the knights standing in line with her, when a voice rings out over the fairgrounds.

"My honor for the hand and heart of the ascendant king!"

His words are somewhat distorted as he's facing away from the platform, but Ryland recognizes the voice and his attention snaps to the left side of the assembled guard. Simon steps out of the line and turns sharply to look up at the council, his gauntleted hand crossed over his chest in the traditional Eridian salute. His declaration, the formal wording that the other contestants each spoke one by one, is met with an absolutely apoplectic noise from Ava, but Eva silences her with a hand and a sharp look.

"State your name for the records, guardsman."

"Simon."

"Your surname or your hailing name?" Eva prompts. Simon meets her gaze unblinkingly.

"I have none, Lady of the Council."

Eva tilts her head slightly as if she's studying him. He doesn't back down, holding his stance and waiting.

"And what experience do you present for your entrance to the Tournament of Heart?"

Simon moves now, gesturing to the line of soldiers he stepped out of. "Six years of service amongst His Grace's own guard, Lady of the Council, and over a dozen prior as a mercenary."

"What guild did you serve?"

The air is deathly still. Ryland can feel Ava's rage simmering next to him, and he's grateful for once that Eva is a terrifying force to be reckoned with - when she decides that tradition must be followed. The spymaster will have to save her reservations for the meeting of the ruling council that is directly after the end of the opening ceremony, scheduled as such for specifically this reason.

"No guild of Erid, Lady of the Council."

"Name the guild, guardsman," Eva instructs him, unwavering. A muscle in Simon's jaw ticks. The seconds are passing like hours, Ryland doesn't think he can breathe. 

"The guild of the Blooded Brotherhood, Lady of the Council."

There is no shortage of reaction to that. Ava hisses like a startled cat, her knuckles white as she forces herself to stay seated on the platform. Assembled watchers whisper, someone in the back barks out a disbelieving laugh.

"Have you connection to this guild, guardsman?"

"No, Lady of the Council."

"Have you interest in a return to your people, guardsman?"

Simon tilts his jaw up, eyes blazing at that. "They are not my people anymore, Lady of the Council." He draws the collar of his shirt down to expose the burn on his neck, as if Eva has forgotten it was there. As if Eva and Ava had not issued the brand themselves. "I hold no love nor any kinship for Eden."

There is another long pause. Ryland chews on the inside of his lip so that he doesn't start gnawing on his fingernails.

"Join your fellow Blades, guardsman." Eva finally says, turning to face the crowd. "Any further challenge?"

The echoing tap of Simon's kit is the only sound that answers her, as he climbs the steps to the platform and stands at the end of the line of fighters.

"Blades, hear now the ruling of this council," the Leading Lady steps back and gestures for the general to begin his section of the ceremony. Carl walks forward to meet her, glancing at Simon out of the corner of his eye, and begins to lay out the rules of the tournament.

Ryland is not listening.

He stares at Simon with unhidden confusion, wishing he could ask what the guard is thinking. Simon seemed no less than derisive about the very concept of the tournament mere days ago... or perhaps that was Ryland misunderstanding the nature of his questions when he probed about the specifics of entry to the contest. Before he realizes the time has passed, the potential Blades are being dismissed and led off to a section of the guardhouse barracks that they will be living in for the duration of the event.

He gets to his feet quickly, stumbling on the cape of his robe in his haste. "Simon-"

"Later, Your Grace," Eva intercepts him. "We have business."

Right, the meeting. Ryland looks over her shoulder at where Simon has paused, glancing back at the sound of his name. Eva turns to him and dismisses him with a wave.

"Come on, Grace." Rocky hooks an arm through his, turning him away from the soldier. "As she says, later."

The two men stare at each other for a second more, then Simon offers a bow and turns to catch up with the other warriors.

"Absolutely fucking not!" Ava is incandescent with rage as the council sits at their meeting table, on her feet with her palms spread in front of her on the surface. "Bad enough we allowed him to work for us - to compete for the prince's hand? I say hell no!"

"Your reservation is understood, Spymaster," Adrian begins carefully, "but he spoke to his loyalty in front of the council both when he arrived and today."

"He's never caused problems in the guardhouse, he's one of the more dedicated members of the watch." Carl leans back in his seat with his arms folded. "Yao can confirm."

The captain of the guard grunts in agreement.

"I think the danger is less that he personally will be an issue and more that the news will get back to Eden eventually," Ilyukhina, Rocky's apprentice, shrugs. "They are not known for calm responses."

Eva looks across the table evenly at Ryland. The prince stares back at her, still a bit dumbstruck as he listens to his advisors argue. He keeps replaying that last moment he saw Simon in his head, trying to figure out what that expression in his eyes had been.

"There is no rule that denies entrance to the tournament based on prior alliance." Yao taps his fingers on the table. Adrian hums in agreement.

"Allowing an Edenite - even as a denier of his heritage - is dangerous to Grace!" Rocky shakes their head. "We cannot allow the tournament to become a threat to him!"

They're split, and after the conversation circles the drain a few more times everyone turns to the Leading Lady of the Council. Eva still has not spoken, letting the clashing words ring out into the room as she often does.

"Lady Eva, what are your thoughts?" Adrian asks, running their fingers through their perfectly placed white curls. Rocky mimics the action automatically through his own wild salt and pepper ones.

"I believe His Grace would be better suited to make the decision."

"Red-" Ava gapes at her, all sense of decorum gone. Eva fixes her with an expression that wipes the indignation off the spymaster's face in favor of a muddled blush, and she looks down at the table sharply.

"Me?" Ryland comes back to himself, blinking and confused. "Why me?"

"You have to get used to making decisions sooner or later," Eva laces her fingers together on the table, "and ultimately you are the most affected by this."

"I-" he glances around the table at the other faces. If he was expecting them to dismiss his thoughts, Ryland doesn't see it in anyone's faces. Everyone is expectant. "Okay. I need to think. Just let me... talk through it."

He works backwards.

To Rocky: "Eden, as far as I understand, is vehemently against their traitors. I do not think he would go back to them of his own free will."

To Yao: "If prior alliance is of concern it should be in the stipulations in the future, but you're right. We did not specify, we cannot turn back on it now."

To Ilyukhina: "Your thought is something we would have to consider, but it isn't as if Eden is a... friend. They are prone to violence against their neighbors, this is a big part of why the tournament exists. We just have to keep an eye out, I guess. Ear to the ground."

To Carl: "Overly dedicated, sometimes. He's forced Rocky and Adrian to give passphrases I haven't asked from them in nearly a decade."

To Adrian: "We should pull the court proceedings paperwork from when he first arrived. He did assure his loyalty, or at least his service, it might help to have it close at hand if there are further questions or concerns."

Finally, to Ava, with a breath of uncertainty: "Surely if he wanted to cause harm he would have long before this?"

Ryland re-catalogues all of those things, presses his palms together in front of his chin while staring hard at nothing on the table. After several long moments of rather tense silence, he nods and looks up at Eva.

"We carry on with his participation."

Eva stands without a response as the others spark to life again, back to their argument but at a more muted tone now. "Carl, Yao, with me please. I would like to visit the barracks the potential Blades are residing in to ensure they understand the rules of the tournament, where they may ask questions. Spymaster, please do as the Prince requested and find the paperwork from guardsman Simon's initial hearing."

Ava twitches, but stands with a curt nod.

Ilyukhina follows the spymaster after a glance from Rocky, and they can hear her begin to chatter as they walk down the hall. The room slowly empties, until it's just Ryland and his two best friends.

"Grace is stupid." Rocky announces affectionately, coming over to muss up his hair. Ryland can't help a little laugh as Adrian drags a hand down their face.

"I trust him, Rocky."

"Why, question?" Ryland laughs harder at that. He's gotten much better at reading Rocky's tone since they met, but when the Esteemed Engineer is particularly peeved, they wield the verbal punctuation they used to use for his benefit like a knife of indignation and mild judgement.

"He... asked me about the tournament the other day, after we talked about my concern regarding it. He didn't like the idea that the guard wasn't seen as 'insufficient', and I uh. Well I said something stupid, you know how it goes."

"What did you say?" Adrian tilts their head with a little twitch of amusement when Rocky at the same time chirps, "shocking!"

"I never said I was a wordsmith," Ryland points at his friend. "I said 'hard to get to a threat to the throne faster than someone in bed with the throne.' I think... he might have taken it a little personally."

Adrian hides the lower half of their face with their hand. "Perhaps a little. Do you think he can do it?"

"I think. I don't know what I think."

"Too many thoughts bouncing around in there." Rocky reaches over to poke the prince's forehead. Ryland smiles and slumps into his chair, heaving a long sigh.

"That's it for today, right? I don't have to see anyone else or do anything official?"

"Correct," Adrian says with a smile, shooing him off. "Go hide away as you wish."

"Thank God."

The potential Blades have two days to train with the guardsmen and prepare for the first challenge. Ryland wonders, as he walks past the courtyard where swords are crashing against one another, if the other contestants are annoyed by Simon's advantage here, he's been working with the guardsman for far longer.

He's not allowed to interact with the Blades, which he found out from Carl the night that the tournament started. The general had taken a shift on guard outside Ryland's room because it had been assigned to Simon, and without knowledge that their subordinate was going to challenge, Carl and Yao had not had time to rework the schedule that was in place.

Now they're on the field, surrounded by people from the city and onlookers who have traveled to see the Tournament of Heart for the first time in decades.

Simon looks rather plain amongst the others. He's wearing the chainmail he was provided for the station he serves, whereas the other competitors are in armor with coats of arms on the tabards and crests pinned to their chests. His head is held high and he is staring down Ava and Eva as the two of them share a quick word before the challenge commences.

It's a Round Robin of sorts today. The fighters will draw lots, and whomever ends up with the short stick will start in the middle. Each fight, the loser will step back to allow someone to take their place, and the winner is the first Blade to face each opponent and best them consecutively, without stepping back from the circle.

Eva welcomes the people in the stands and lays out the rules of the day for everyone again. After receiving verbal confirmation from each contestant that they are ready, she has them step forward to the stage where Ilyukhina is holding the whittled sticks that will decide which of them is stuck starting.

The blond knight with the gleaming smile draws the losing lot, Ryland thinks his name is Tom but he isn't sure. He returns it to Ilyukhina with a booming laugh and turns to his fellows to declare that they won't even get their chance to run the gauntlet.

"Eugh." Rocky's disgust is audible. Ryland and Adrian both find themselves covering their mouths to keep from laughing.

Tom wins his first bout, against the Lady Annie who takes it with grace. He takes it with far less goodwill himself when he then loses to Sir Martin. Ryland tries his best to focus on the fights at hand but he does notice the way Simon is getting steadily more twitchy as Martin then chooses to face Annie as his next opponent. He wins again.

Martin loses to Dimitri, a promising young swordsman from the province that borders the capitol of Erid. Dimitri turns to face Simon.

Simon wins.

Dimitri offers him a hand to shake and a grin, despite his bleeding nose. Simon shakes it with a nod, his own face stony. He looks taut as a lyre string as he turns, gesturing for Tom to step back into the ring.

"Do you mind taking off your tabard? I think that quality of fabric will aggravate my allergies," the young noble asks loudly, with a laugh that's a smidge too sharp to be real. Simon responds by shedding the shield he was using in his first fight and setting it outside the marked out space for the matches.

"You'll have bigger problems," the guardsman replies flatly, flexing his hand on the handle of his sword.

Yao counts them down just like he did with the others. As his booming voice calls to start, Simon launches forward.

They've all been instructed to pull killing blows, but other than that nicks and cuts are deemed acceptable. The two young men bring their weapons to meet over and over, waging their war back and forth across the dirt.

Simon brings his sword down doublehanded at Tom's shoulder. When the taller fighter brings up his own sword to block it, the guardsman releases the grip of his left hand, letting the weapon bounce harmlessly off the block and pivoting in a full circled tight turn to instead make a sharp attack against Tom's other arm. The blade cracks against his armor hard enough to make him cry out, and Tom responds by driving his heavy boot into the exposed inside of Simon's knee as he turns.

The man lets out a yelp as his leg gives out and he drops to the ground. Tom barks out another laugh and turns to throw his arms wide to the platform. It looks like he's about to say something, but Simon lashes out and kicks his feet out from under him.

Carl yells and jumps down off the platform as it becomes more of a wrestling match. Before he and Yao can intervene, Simon shoves Tom onto his back. He gets the top of the man's tabard tangled in his left fist and pins him down, laying his blade across the opposite side of his opponent's neck. 

"Just like a man of your status to declare a victory you haven't earned yet. Yield."

Tom hisses something too quiet for the onlookers to hear. Simon's sharp glare turns icy.

"Enough." Yao hauls him up by the back of his chainmail. "That is a concession. Simon wins."

The guardsman huffs out a breath and takes two steps back. There's a brief commotion as Tom is half helped to his feet, protesting the whole way as he tries to right himself without the assistance of the two older soldiers. He gives Simon an absolutely venomous look as he brushes himself off, which Simon returns while blowing a loose curl away from his face.

"Choose your next opponent." Yao directs him once they've gotten everything under control again.

"Sir Martin."

He wins again.

The stands are rather quiet as Simon takes the win in stride and breezes forward to face his final opponent. Ryland has to guess there were betting pools, and many of the onlookers didn't expect to see such a performance from the king's guard. He feels an odd, almost misplaced twinge of pride.

Annie holds out the longest against the man. She's fast and she's more calculating than the other fighters, and it almost seems like Simon respects her more for it. He pulls what would be his killing blow to stop just inches from her neck, and she tilts her chin up and leans over so the blade makes the barest contact against her neck, eyes alight with adrenaline. Simon nods, a little smile crossing his face as he offers his hand for her to shake before she can step back.

"And that is a full round of fights." Eva announces. The vast majority of the ruling council seems a bit stunned, with varying levels of being able to hide it. "Our first challenge of the Tournament of Heart concludes with Guardsman Simon's victory."

Simon bows to the stands, then turns to the stage and salutes. His face is still set but there's a small flicker of satisfaction in his eyes. Carl claps him on the shoulder before beginning to round up all the potential Blades to make sure no one needs medical attention and to take them off to the barracks to discuss their next challenge.

Ryland finds the sharpshooting competition so boring he nearly falls asleep during it. He is present enough to know that Simon won again, but by a mere two points. Dimitri had emerged as a somewhat surprising second place, and Tom followed him up (clearly much to the young noble's chagrin). It's not until the evening after, as the ruling council plans out the details of the strategy game they're going to put the contestants into, that anything else interesting happens.

Simon shoves the door open heavily with his shoulder, dragging Tom with him by the arm. He flings the man down in front of the council, nearly crashing him into Ava's chair, and wipes the spit and blood from his jaw.

"Guardsman, what-"

"He needs medical attention. Ask him why." The soldier sneers. He wavers on his feet for a moment, then steadies and shakes his head. Tom groans and rolls onto his back, breathing raggedly.

"He- he poisoned me- Lords and Ladies, see reason-"

"If you don't tell them what you gave me, they won't be able to give you an antidote in time." Simon cuts him off. He's staring at nothing as if it's taking his full attention to stay upright. Carl comes to his side and grabs his arm to give him something to lean against. Tom cries out in pain, and then the room descends into chaos from there.

Dr. Lokken and her assistant Armando are called upon. At some point Simon loses his footing and curses as he nearly unbalances Carl, which gets him propped up between the general and Captain Yao. Tom is wailing and has begun babbling some story that Simon objects to, which eventually gets Ava involved as she's got an uncanny ear for a liar. Rocky and Adrian get Ryland from his seat and try to escort him from the room, but he brushes them off and shakes his head. "No, I want- I need to know what's happening."

"It's Ghavis!" Tom finally cries as he chokes on the foam forming at the edges of his mouth. "It's Ghavis and I put too much into the glass- please- I don't know how he did it-"

"I switched the fucking cups." Simon spits. 

The blond on the floor, already pallid, blanches.

"He offered... a drink. Said he wanted to make amends." The guardsman speaks haltingly. "I know the taste... the Mire is inflicted in... in the Brotherhood."

Simon swallows thickly and his eyes seem to come into focus a little more. "You can build immunity... it doesn't work perfectly. I had to get him to look away. So I drank it, waited for him to lower his guard."

"Your Grace, you should leave." Eva sweeps back into the room with several of the royal guard in tow. "Retire to your chambers with the Esteemed Architect and the Esteemed Engineer. We will handle these two in whatever capacity that might be."

"Are they going to be okay?" Ryland wrings his hands. He doesn't care for Tom much, but the idea of Simon on the ground next to him, gagging and clawing at his neck, is terrifying him on a primal level and he doesn't know why. Tom is getting an antidote forced into his mouth now, and Armando is clambering to his feet to administer a second dose to the afflicted potential Blade, and Ryland's own throat feels like it's closing off.

"We will handle it," Eva repeats, "and I will send word once I know how things are going to turn out. Please, go, you don't need to see this if it goes south."

Rocky wraps an arm around Ryland's shoulders to begin to steer him out of the room. Ryland looks at Simon again and is surprised to find him staring back. He looks like he's focusing intensely on not throwing up, but he nods quietly. An unspoken 'I'll be okay.'

Ryland nods back and lets himself be led out.

The poisoning of two of the potential Blades delays the tournament by two weeks. Tom's actions aren't made public, but he is removed from the barracks and barred from continuing in the competition.

"How are you feeling?" Ryland asks as he walks with Simon to the guardhouse. He'd insisted on seeing him personally back to the other competitors, just in case. Surely no one else would try something directly in front of him.

Simon shrugs. "It isn't a great way to be, but I'm used to it."

"Right, you said the... Brotherhood," the word feels foreign, the mercenaries of Eden are a touchy subject on Erid soil and often not discussed unless absolutely needed, "they make you take it?"

"There are a number of poisons that the body can build an immunity to over time. Small doses make it a long process, and it isn't a perfect concept, but... in short, yes."

"That sounds awful."

Simon just repeats the same shrug he offered the first time.

"Can I ask you a question?" Ryland grabs his arm lightly to stop him as they find themselves in a little corner of shade, just a few dozen paces from the guardhouse barracks. Simon turns to face him, expression as closed off as it always is.

"Of course, Your Grace."

"Why did you challenge? I thought you hated the idea of there needing to be someone who went above the guard's authority."

The soldier's expression both softens and hardens, but in different directions. the impassive blank wall he puts up melts away, and is replaced by a more determined, sharp look.

"I meant what I said when I put myself into this. Who better to watch your back than one of the people who already knows what lies beneath the livery and hides inside the sanctity of your laboratory? I dedicated myself to this task when I was first allowed to join the royal guard, I am not keen on giving it up. It would be a poor repayment for what you've already given me."

Ryland isn't sure how to respond to that, but Simon just turns and heads for the door of the barracks. He quickly follows the guardsman, and is privy through his trailing along behind to the excitement the other potential Blades greet the man with. Annie gives him a full hug, Dimitri claps him on the shoulder, Martin crows that they all knew Tom was bad news anyway. Unsure of what to do with himself, the prince ducks away after a minute stood in the doorway.

Two more challenges pass, one landing as a win under Dimitri's belt and one going to Simon by another mere hairsbreadth. The final trial is the one Ryland had described to his guardsman the day in the garden, and as he had said then it's the one he's most excited for.

Annie takes her turn first, positioning the cohorts she's been given to train with the past few weeks. Yao and Carl command the 'enemy' troops, and the Lady of Spira handles their wrench admirably when one of the sections under the two soldiers' command debut a shield wall and archers' onslaught that wraps around her own flank.

"I think the strategy is the most interesting part because it not only shows the contestant's understanding of what they're looking at, but it gives a bit of an idea of how they handle conflict themselves," Adrian muses as they watch Martin call his men into a retreat. The potential Blade regroups his people to strike out again against the cavalry that they've been tasked to deal with."

"I like watching them think on the fly," Ryland agrees. "Lady Annie was quick to shift her front line to an angle so she could handle both attacks. Martin's retreat might be a little bit hasty, but it gave him time to put everything back in order and strike again."

Dimitri, for all the promise he's shown, falls apart under the pressure. The crowd is vocally horrified as his cohorts scatter under the (softened) blows of the two leads of the royal guard, and the man himself offers a contrite apology to the platform where Ryland and those of his council not involved in the exercise are seated. "I got too in my head, Lords and Ladies... I am so sorry, Your Grace, I fear I would not hold this station as you deserve."

Ryland squirms a bit uncomfortably, but Eva handles the acceptance of his conceding.

Finally, it's Simon's turn.

The cohorts on both sides collide, as they have in the previous attempts. After a bout of fighting, the two groups draw up into themselves a bit, and Ryland leans forward to try to spot what the guardsman's challenge will be. 

A flag of parlay rises above Yao and Carl's side. There are murmurs of surprise and Ryland plops back into his seat, curious but frowning. "Huh."

Simon emerges from his cohort with a small group of men, raising his own flag. He marches to meet Carl, Yao, and a few of their soldiers in the middle of the field. 

They converse for several minutes. Carl raises his voice at one point, booming as he declines something he dubs an 'insulting offer', and the conversation continues. 

Simon waves his men off. They begin to retreat back to the cohort, leaving him standing alone across from his superiors (and currently his fake enemies). When the soldiers under his command are about a dozen paces off, he suddenly drops his parlay flag to a horizontal position, even with the ground, and leans harshly to his right.

A volley of padded arrows snaps out from his side. Yao and Carl receive the brunt of the attack but none of their little group are unscathed as Simon backs up hastily and draws his sword again. He's grinning, as he brings the flag up again and falls in amongst his soldiers. 

"What the hell-" Ava gets to her feet quickly, but is silenced when Yao holds his hands up to call a halt to the exercise. He and Carl traipse over the empty field to the platform, and Ryland watches in confusion as he sees the captain of the guard is chuckling to himself when they approach.

"I don't know how he managed it."

"Managed what, Captain?" Eva asks calmly.

Instead of answering, Yao turns and whistles sharply over the field. "SIMON!" He barks afterward, gesturing for the guardsman to join him. Simon's smile fades as he turns away from the soldier he was talking to, and he straightens his shoulders. He marches up and stops about a sword's length away from his two superiors, hands behind his back as he falls into attention silently.

"How did you do that?" Carl asks.

"Do what, Sir?"

"Catch the double cross before it happened," Yao answers. He seems to have given up his usual stoic judgement, all but beaming with pride at his guardsman. "That was very impressive."

Simon's face twitches with satisfaction. "I have been an orchestrator of parlays. I have been an orchestrator of false parlays. You can smell it on the wind, if you know what you're looking for."

Ava hisses in distaste. Eva glances at her with a twinge of amusement.

"Send your men from whence they came, guardsman," the Leading Lady of the Council commands. Simon nods and goes to relieve his cohorts of their duty.

"You have done well. All of you." She adds to the other potential Blades. "We shall have our Chosen Blade by tomorrow's eve."

The contestants begin to thank the council, but suddenly Ryland's ears are ringing. He got so caught up in the exercise, he had forgotten for a moment.

Tomorrow's eve.

Tomorrow he will be betrothed.

Oh, he's going to throw up.

Ryland refuses to go to the council's meeting about finalizing their decision, turns down Rocky when the worried engineer asks if he wants to try to blow something up in the workshop, and fends of Adrian when they try to force him to at least take a walk around the grounds. Tomorrow he is going to be betrothed, offered off to one of those competent warriors who have worked so hard to be connected to him.

He has nothing to offer them.

He barricades himself in his chambers, spends the night and most of the next day until Eva forces her way into his room to get him ready. This is to be a momentous celebration, so there are layers and gemstones and finery that he's expected to wear. Each added decoration feels like another chain attached to him.

"Do you want to know who it is?" She asks as she wraps him in symbols of his status. She's methodical as always, hands gentle but giving no room for him to shy away from her work.

"No," Ryland croaks. His throat is dry.

Eva nods and says nothing more.

Barely anything from the night stays in Ryland's head. There are so many colors, he's greeted by many nobles and people he should know - names he would remember in any other scenario - he's bombarded by flavors and smells and the longer the night goes, the more sick he feels. The potential Blades have been dressed for the occasion as well, and he finds that somehow all he can focus on as he tries to find solace in the throne that's set away from the rest of the room that Simon looks nearly as uncomfortable if not more than he feels, wrapped in a dark red ensemble studded with oiled leather and deep, gold-inlaid rubies. 

Eva sweeps up the steps to the throne, gently prying the prince out of the seat. "It's time."

"Are we sure this is absolutely necessary?" He asks once again. She smiles, a rare show of emotion from her.

"Wars have been fought over less."

The same question, the same answer. Ryland bites his lip to force back a terrified whine.

Eva leads him to the stage. The potential Blades are standing, two on one side and three on the other, and waiting. Ryland stumbles and feels his face heating up, then focuses on putting one foot in front of the other so he doesn't make a complete fool of himself in this room of wealth and influence.

"The time has come for the Chosen Blade to rise to the station they have committed themselves to," Eva addresses the crowd, letting Ryland stay where she's placed him and walking to the front of the stage. "This Tournament of Heart, as all Tournaments of Heart, has shown a unique crop of warriors who have pledged their loyalty to the most tenuous station this country can offer any who carries a weapon. The Chosen is the last line of defense to our ascendant king, someone who will be tasked, with all that they are, to make sure Prince Ryland is safe and secure. There is no time off, there is no leave of absence. These men and this woman have offered their all to assure the people of Erid that their sovereign is in good hands. We must thank them all, for their willingness to serve."

Applause thunders through the ballroom.

"The performance of each contestant, save the unfortunate outcome of our waylaid lord-" Tom has been banned from the castle in its entirety, "has been thorough to the very end. We the council have taken great pains to make sure we have assessed each quality needed of a Chosen Blade before making this decision, and the decision that we have made is what we believe in our own hearts to be the best for the kingdom of Erid, and for His Grace."

Ava tucks herself behind Carl briefly and pulls a face. Ryland's eyes snap to her, his body flushing and then feeling icy.

She wouldn't have that reaction to anyone else.

"Chosen Blade Simon, step forward to receive your knighthood from the council."

The ringing returns. If Simon is surprised, he doesn't show it, stepping forward with his head held high and taking a knee in front of Eva. She has a script for the presenting of the knighthood that involves her, Carl, and Rocky (in place of Ryland's father, who should be the one to finalize the passing on of the mantle). Ryland is incapable of taking in any more information, his brain has shut down because he doesn't know what he's going to do with this - he's got to be having a heart attack or something, why can't he think? Why can't he move? He must look like one of the marble statues at the walls of the room, he's sure he's paler than a sheet.

Simon is standing next to him.

That faint smell of leather and pine that Ryland often notices from the guardsman brings him back to the present, just barely. Simon is watching Eva as she presents the two of them as Ascendant King and Chosen Blade, but his eyes flick to the prince every few seconds, swimming with quiet concern. 

There's a deafening cheer. Ryland jumps as if he's been shot. A hand finds his elbow, exceedingly gentle, and as the band strikes up again, Simon leads him up to where Eva's standing.

"Lady of the Council-"

She turns and with a single look at her sovereign, nods to Simon. "Do what must be done."

Simon nods, and leads him out of the room.

Ryland both coming down from the first and fighting a second rising panic attack as he and Simon make their way back to his chambers - their chambers now. Everything, from his starched and gemstone weighted down doublet to the crown he so despises wearing to the heavy silence hanging between him and his Chosen Blade, is becoming far too much for him to handle, and he needs desperately to be properly in private before he loses his mind entirely.

Simon steps ahead of him as they approach the doors. His hand falls to his sword as he steps through the entrance, and Ryland can see from the way his head turns that he's surveying the room. He seems satisfied enough to step aside, and Ryland sweeps in and shoves the door shut behind him.

He groans in some mixture of exhaustion and anxiety and embarrassment, and slides down the doors to sit on the floor in front of them, gripping his head in his hands.

This is so stupid. This is SO stupid. I am so stupid-

"Simon-"

"Your Grace-"

They both stop, having spoken at the same time. Ryland lifts his head slowly, finding that the other man is on one knee a few paces away from him. He looks so, so worried.

"Are you okay?" Simon asks, his voice gentler than the prince remembers ever hearing him speak.

"I-" He curls his knees up to his chest. "No? I don't- I don't know how to do this. I can't do this."

Simon frowns softly. "'This' being what, exactly?"

"I don't know. All of it? The ruling, the... marriage. The last Chosen Blade was my father, I know there are expectations."

The guardsman doesn't move for several long moments. Ryland thunks his head down on his knees and then groans in annoyance when he feels his crown topple off his head, bouncing off his boot and rolling away into the room. It's disregarded.

Something thumps onto the ground. Then a second thing, which gets Ryland's attention just enough to make him lift his head and peek.

Simon's thick leather gloves lie on the floor next to his calf. He undoes the belt of his sword methodically, extricates the weapon from his person, and lays it next to them. Then slowly - so slowly - he shifts forward until he's directly in front of Ryland, kneeling at first and then sitting back and leaning against his heels.

"Wipe the last concern from your mind. There is no world in which I could force anything on you, Your Grace."

"You don't have to call me that," Ryland mutters, wiping away the burning tears that have begun their escape. Simon disregards the words.

"I did not challenge because I wanted something from you. I have never wanted for anything, when it comes to you. I challenged because I owe you a debt larger than my whole existence, and I intend to spend that existence repaying what I can, even if I will never clear the ledger the way it should be wiped clean.

"Your Grace, I have lived my life - short as it may be as Captain Yao likes to remind me - in service to many things. I have been a pauper, a butcher, a soldier, a tool, but rarely a person seen as having purpose outside of my usefulness. I have never had anything of my own, everything I have been offered has had a string attached to it, meant to lead me back to whomever gave it to me so that they could keep tabs on me. The first person to give me something, with absolutely no expectation of what it should make me think or feel or do, was you. Ever since I stepped foot in your throne room, you have not judged me or turned me away for the blood I smear against everything I touch, you never took the violence I knew as the entirety of my being to hold against me, and you have offered me everything. Home, purpose without price, a life worth living.

"I know you fear what will be expected from you in this, I heard your worries that you voiced to Adrian and Rocky. I would never imagine taking anything from you that you didn't wish to share. If you wanted me to sleep on the floor at the foot of your bed I would wrap myself in my traveling cloak so you could keep your blankets clean, if you asked me to make my home on the threshold of your chambers as far from you as I can be in this space I'd curl up at the hearth like a dog, if you-" his voice breaks, but he never wavers, "demanded I throw myself from the balcony to ensure I could not claim what I had no right to, my only thought would be that I hope you stand at the railing when I hit the ground so your face is the last sight I see."

Ryland lifts his head to look at the man in front of him properly. Simon has his head bowed, hands laid in his lap with palms facing upward. His hair is braided back so the front strands can't fall in his eyes, and they're closed so it wouldn't make a difference. Ryland feels suddenly as if a second more of not seeing those deep, soulful pools will strangle him.

"What if I just want a friend?" He croaks.

Simon's eyes flick up to him. He does not move otherwise.

"There is no universe in which I would say no, Ryland."

"Even if I'm difficult and don't talk at all some days?"

He nods.

"If I decide to lock myself in my laboratory and don't leave for hours because I've got something I'm working on with Rocky?"

Another nod.

"What about when I refuse to eat or sleep because it's an inconvenience-"

"Ryland," he says softly, a smile breaking his features. He smiles so rarely, the absolute beauty of the expression silences the prince more than the words do. "All of this I have endured. I will not falter just because I am closer now."

Ryland is woken up by the sound of someone pounding a fist on the door to his chambers. He groans and tries to roll over, only to find that he's stuck in place by an iron bar wrapped around his waist.

No, not an iron bar, though it's nearly as strong as one. It's his husband's arm, and the weight on his chest is Simon's head. The knight's eyes open at the sound and he growls deep in his chest.

"Grace? Simon? You have 10 seconds!" Comes the demanding voice from the other side of the entrance.

"Never an ounce of peace," Simon mutters as he presses his forehead to the hollow at the base of Ryland's neck, then he begins to clamber out of the bed.

"That's how you know you've gotten to know him well enough," Ryland teases, rolling onto his side and tugging the blankets up higher. There's nothing to hide, but he knows Rocky will always be looking if only to have something to tease him about. "He's decided you're worth annoying to the ends of the earth."

"What an honor," the Chosen Blade rolls his eyes and grabs his weapon, throwing the door wide open and giving Rocky his best glare, the one reserved only for misbehaving royal guard. "I should take your goddamn hand for disturbing His Grace's rest." 

Ryland and Rocky both laugh. For all his status and the power he has to back it up, it's hard to take Simon seriously when he's shirtless with his hair mussed from sleep, and barefoot. He concedes to Rocky so he doesn't get bowled over as the Engineer pushes their way into the room, and turns to look at Ryland with feigned annoyance that softens into amusement as the sovereign ruler of Erid handles the situation with immense maturity (throws a pillow at his best friend's head).

How the past three years have changed them.

"To what do I owe this," Ryland glances out the window at the barely risen sun, "early visit, Rock?"

"Eva wants you and Simon to join today's council meeting. Says she has big news, we'll need your input." Rocky plops onto the edge of the bed, knocking their glasses askew in their haste to sit and having to push them back up with a heavily gloved hand.

Simon frowns, putting his sword back where he keeps it when they sleep, and sits on the other side of the bed. "What kind of big news?"

"She would not say."

Simon and Ryland exchange a look. With Eva, that means it's bad.

"Alright, we'll be there," the king promises, stretching and then sitting up. He rubs his hands over his face, then smiles when he opens his eyes to find his spectacles being offered to him from the other side of the bed. "Thank you, Simon."

"Anything else, Rocky? Or were you just chomping at the bit for the chance to be a nuisance?" Simon runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face.

"Wanted to ask Grace if he was interested in trying something in the workshop today?" The Engineer grins, tapping his fingertips on his safety goggles. He turns his attention to Ryland. "If your Chosen Blade can manage for you to be away from him for a few hours?"

"We're not attached at the hip, you goof." Ryland grins. "I think we'll have to wait to see what Eva has to share with us, but I'm always interested in seeing what you're working on."

"Good, I'll grab you after the meeting." With that, Rocky gets to their feet again. "Resume being gross, I'll leave."

"Now you know perfectly well that nothing gross was going on-"

"If that'll get you to leave faster though," Simon climbs onto the bed and hooks an arm around Ryland's waist again, pulling him across the bed with an ease that makes the king yelp in shock. He finds his shoulder pressed against Simon's broad chest as the Chosen Blade grins and tucks himself into the junction of his neck, challenging Rocky.

"Euuuuugh, I'm leaving I'm leaving!"

"Simon," Ryland chides as the door swings shut. He's got nothing to stand on, he knows the way he's already melting into the other man's touch will negate any argument he's about to try to string together. "You shouldn't encourage him like that-"

"He's going to be like that either way, Angel..." There's a trail of gentle kisses making its way up his shoulder. "I think you were the one who worked so hard to convince me I deserve to indulge now and again."

Betrayed by his own words.

Ryland sighs and rests his arm over Simon's that's wrapped around him, tilting his head onto his husband's shoulder so the knight has better access to his neck. He lets his eyes slide closed as Simon takes all the time in the world picking the perfect spot to work on, reveling quietly in the way the sharpness of his Chosen Blade dissolves into soft, warm care. Simon's teeth scrape against his skin lightly and he exhales breathily, reaching up to tangle his other hand into soft curls.

"Behave yourself, it's too warm out for a high collar."

"Is that an order, Your Grace?"

The smirk in his voice travels up Ryland's spine like delicious lightning. He has so enjoyed discovering this side of Simon in more recent months. "Never, you know that."

"Perfect," Simon's rumbling voice reverberates through both of their chests and he latches onto the spot where Ryland's shoulder slopes up to his neck and jaw.

He's so careful, even as he leaves marks with his teeth and lips. Simon loves nothing more than to take him apart, slowly and methodically, and stake his claim to his favorite places. He lays Ryland down against the mattress once he's satisfied with himself and cages him in with a knee on either side of his waist, and hands bracketing his head. The Chosen Blade traces his fingertips along the patterns he just left and watches his husband shiver happily at the touch.

"You're everything to me, Ryland...truly I think sometimes you must really be an angel..."

"I love you too," the king whispers, looking up at him like he hung the stars in the sky. Simon leans down and kisses him, and for longer than either of them would care to admit they just relish the quiet morning for what it could be if duty wasn't calling right outside the threshold of the room.

"Ava's going to be furious," Ryland teases after they finally drag themselves from bed to get dressed, surveying the bruises trailing up his neck in the vanity mirror.

"As if Eva doesn't have her looking like a leopard every other day," Simon scoffs as he pulls a shirt on. "I have restraint."

"That's a word for it. She hasn't seen the work you really do-"

"Ryland," he laughs. Ryland grins lopsidedly and begins to get dressed. If he picks an outfit that displays a few more of Simon's conquests than a normal tunic would, who's to say?

The king's Chosen Blade leads the way out of the room, scanning the hallway before falling in step next to Ryland as they make their way through the castle. "How badly do you think this meeting is going to go?" he asks as he taps his fingertips on the pommel of his sword. The taller man reaches down to intertwine his hand in Simon's free one, sighing.

"Lady Eva requesting my presence doesn't worry me that much... requesting your presence is what concerns me."

"I was thinking the same- shit, do you think it's Eden?"

Ryland stiffens and chews on his lip. "I didn't consider that..."

"That's what it has to be, right? It's been the concern since the Tournament of Heart, I'm surprised it took them this long to find out." 

He doesn't look up when Ryland turns to look at him. The king frowns and tugs on his arm lightly. "Si."

"I didn't think it would matter. They don't care for their exiles, it isn't as if I'd be able to return home - but they probably fear their secrets being shared. Even if I've been here for years, I'm a threat to them... which makes me in turn a danger to you."

"Simon."

"They're going to want something. There's not really a military in Eden, but the mercenaries are more than willing to work together for a pouch of gold-"

"Simon." Ryland tugs his hand again and forces him to stop walking. Simon looks up at him and he brushes a hand across his jaw, pulling him in close. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. We'll find out what the problem is at the meeting, and then we can figure out what the next steps are. I won't let them have you, I swear it."

Learning Simon's past hadn't happened all in one night. As he and Ryland had learned to live together over the past few years, he'd spent more than one evening curled in a ball in the corner of their chambers, shaking from a nightmare that had woken him with screams that tore his throat raw and unbalanced him to his core. Ryland is still sure he hasn't heard the full story, but he thinks he understands enough - the cult hidden beneath the weak approximation of a government, the mercenary guilds that all lead back to one source like a rotted tree with its roots dug deep into the soil. A country of corruption, full of good people who have been blinded and twisted into weapons of war under the impression that they need to be that way for their safety. For their strength.

People like Simon.

"I'm not worried about them having me," Simon mutters as Ryland tilts his head down to press their foreheads together. "I'm terrified they'll try to use me. I don't..."

Ryland silences him with a kiss. He knows what he's thinking, and he has his own fears about it, but he can't let those words out into the open air, for both their sakes. Ava would be furious, Rocky and Adrian would be too overprotective. He trusts his husband, even if the man doesn't trust himself.

"Meeting first. Then we panic."

The room is a mess when they enter. Ava has dragged stacks of parchment into the space and laid half a dozen files out over the table for her and Carl to peruse, she's got more in crates on the side of the room that Ilyukhina and Yao are picking through. Eva is speaking to Rocky and Adrian in the corner and they all turn to look up when the two men enter. Everything is deathly silent.

"It's that bad?" Ryland surveys the chaos.

"It's worse," Eva says with a gritting resignation. She pulls a curled parchment from her sleeve. "We received a manifesto this morning."

He steps forward to take it and she moves it out of reach, watching him carefully. "Your Grace... you will not like this."

"I don't care." Ryland holds his hand out expectantly. The Leading Lady of the Council sighs heavily and hands it over.

"The gist of it," she tells Simon as the king begins to scan the letter, "is that the Blooded Brotherhood has come into highest power in Eden. They are declaring war on Erid, on King Ryland specifically-"

"They cannot be serious," Ryland interrupts, staring at the parchment. He reads the demand nestled into the message again, then a third time. "I... this is ridiculous. This is a lie - they want to annex Erid? No, absolutely not."

Simon moves over to stand next to Ryland and begins to read the letter over his shoulder. The taller man hands it off to him without finishing it and gestures to the mess scattered around them. "What is all of this then? What are all these- is this a file on Simon?"

"I pulled all records I have on anyone that might be affiliated with Eden inside our borders." Ava waved another file around. "They declared at the bottom of the letter that they would await word by someone they're calling the Butcher when he was able to secure the throne, and if they didn't hear from him by the fortnight they would begin border raids. I've got a lot of information on Eden natives living in Erid, but I would have made sure we knew if one of the Brotherhood's higher ups was posing as an expat. That name is bad news."

Loathe as he is to dredge up his husband's past, Ryland turns to ask Simon if the name is something he knows about.

The Chosen Blade is standing frozen in the center of the room, staring at the parchment clutched in his hands. He's holding it so tight it looks as if it threatens to tear, and his wide, terrified eyes are locked in the center of the page. He looks absolutely horrified at the contents of that missive, and at the same time it seems like it would take the whole room to pull him away from it.

"Simon?" Ryland asks softly.

His gaze snaps up and he flinches like he's been struck. Ryland takes a step towards him and he takes two steps back, chest heaving suddenly as if he'd forgotten how to breathe until that moment. 

"No. No- not this, this can't- anything but this-"

"Simon, it's going to be okay."

"It's not-"

"You." Ava whispers. Ryland glances at her and she's got her attention on Simon, connecting dots behind her eyes as she steps around the table. "It's you, isn't it."

It's not a question.

Simon runs.

Ryland takes off after him without a moment's hesitation. He hears people following, and he wishes he could get his overcoat off while he's moving because it feels like it's weighing him down. He has to get to Simon before any of the others do - especially Ava - and he has to make sure that his Chosen Blade, his husband is safe and in his arms before they can do anything.

"Simon!" The lead of their little fox-chase takes a corner and nearly bowls over a maidservant dusting one of the paintings. She shrieks when she nearly gets flattened by Ryland a moment later and presses herself against the wall. The soldier darts into the passages that the castle staff uses and Ryland prays to any god that's listening that he's of sound enough mind he doesn't collide with anybody in there. He ducks inside, trying to reorient to the lower lighting and spotting the heel of a boot disappearing around a corner.

They end up in the kitchen. Simon shoves through the chefs working on the midday meal, and when he finds the back door blocked by a pair of women hauling in a huge tub of vegetables he scrambles into the pantry and slams the door shut behind him. Ryland pulls up short, gasping for breath, and looks towards the nearest person. "Is there a way out of there?"

"Uh- no? It's just that door, Your Grace," she shakes her head, looking bewildered. Ryland nods and presses his back against the door as the rest of his council begins to careen into the room.

"Everyone out."

"No." Ava's eyes blaze. She steps forward, grabbing the hilt of her knife. "Your Grace-"

"Out!" Ryland barks, squaring his shoulders. The staff begins to duck for the exits. Eva pushes past Carl and Yao and grabs Ava's arm, watching the king as he blocks their way to the tiny storage room. "Not a single one of you is going into that room before I have a chance to."

"Like hell I'm letting you talk to the Butcher alone-"

"Planning on moving into our sleeping quarters, then?" His voice is an icy barb and she pulls up short. Ryland glowers at the lot of them, physically blocking their paths to the pantry as he tries to regain control of his breathing. "This changes nothing. He is still the man who he has always been. He is not some mythical threat simply because you know more of his past than you did last night."

Internally, Ryland is a little surprised to find he isn't trying to convince himself of that fact as well, but he knows Simon as someone who resorts to the violence he's trained in only when there is nothing else he can level at a situation. He likes to help the groundskeepers with the landscaping around the castle, he shows the stable boys how to braid dandelions into crowns to impress the chambermaids, he had been nothing short of terrified of the prospect of sharing the spacious bed that they sleep in without Ryland's express permission for the two of them to lie together. No matter what this name means, no matter who the Butcher might be, Ryland knows Simon far better than the version of him that Eden apparently wants back so badly.

"If any of you wants any chance in hell of walking into that pantry-" if the situation weren't so dire it would be funny "-you will leave and let me handle this first. Then you can have your turn."

"Grace..." Rocky frowns, hands twitching at their sides.

"You couldn't stop us all," Ilyukhina argues, glancing between her mentor and her sovereign.

Ryland's eyes narrow. "Try to move me by force and any of you that touches me will face treason charges."

That sucks the air right out of the room. He crosses his arms, scowling, and waits.

"Allow one of us to stay with you," Eva reasons, ever the diplomat. "Whichever you would like, pick for yourself. Just to keep an eye out." Just in case.

He takes a deep breath. Considers his options, and listens to the faint sound of shifting in the pantry. Please, my love, don't make this more difficult... "Yao can stay."

Eva nods and begins to physically remove Ava. The spymaster bares her teeth like a feral dog but she just keeps staring at Ryland as her wife slowly and surely takes her out of play. 

"Please be careful. I know you trust him - and I do to, Grace, but this is worrying," Rocky says softly. Adrian wraps their arm around his and nods to Ryland. He knows what they're thinking, they just want him to be okay.

How can he be okay?

Finally it's just Yao in the room. He leans against the huge hardwood table in the center of the kitchen, hands resting on either side of his hips. He doesn't say anything, and Ryland is grateful for that. He turns to face the door to the pantry, and takes a deep breath.

"Simon?"

The only answer is a heartbreakingly small whimper.

"I'm going to open the door," Ryland says quietly, knowing there's no lock inside. "I won't come inside if you don't want me to, I just need to see you... it's going to be okay."

He opens the pantry so slowly and peeks inside. Simon has dug his way underneath one of the shelves on the back wall, tucked between two heavy bags of root vegetables, and is curled up with his knees to his chest and his face hidden in the shadows. Ryland steps just inside, and sits on the floor in view of both his husband and the captain of his royal guard.

"Look at me, please."

"I'm sorry..."

Ryland almost waves off the apology, but forces himself not to trivialize it. It is a big deal, this is a nightmare. This is an insane situation that he thinks maybe only he could wind up in.

"I don't- I had no idea-"

"Simon, breathe." He can see his shoulders shaking. "We can talk this out and figure out how to fix it, but I need you to work with me."

There's a tiny peek of a dark, tearful eye.

"Hi, my love." He lifts his head a little more, and Ryland makes an exaggerated breathing motion, watching the other man copy it. "Good, one more."

Simon drags his fist across his face, swiping uselessly at tears. "Angel, I swear I had no intentions for something like this-"

"I know. You swore when you first stood in front of the council, and when you joined the tournament, that you had no connection to Eden, right?" Ryland starts with the facts. He gets a nod. "You denounced them publicly when we married, swore fealty to my throne and to me in open court more than a dozen times on different occasions... I know you didn't know they would do this."

"Ava-"

"Fuck Ava and her anger for the time being," Ryland says firmly, and it seems that his bluntness on the matter startles Simon enough to pull him fully back into the moment. His expression goes startled, then blank, and then he wheezes out a sad, but genuine laugh. "I think they wanted this to snowball, and we can keep it from that. Just tell me truthfully now, and I will believe you: do you know why they want you to do this?"

Simon shakes his head, frowning. "No, I- I was telling the truth when I came to Erid. They don't want me, they exiled me- they tried to kill me! I have no clue what..." He trails off and the frown deepens.

Ryland waits quietly.

"They wanted me to defend myself. If there was a fight, and I killed someone, I'd have no choice but to try to reach out to them... they were relying on this being nothing of consequence."

"'This'?" Ryland questions.

Simon gestures between the two of them. He slowly uncurls his legs from against his chest and thunks his head against the wall behind him, closing his eyes. "The leader of the Brotherhood, the Father, he never thought much of me. Knew I was good at my job, but I was a weapon more than a person... he didn't account for you caring, because when it came to me he never did."

He laughs weakly and shakes his head. "And again I owe you my life, Angel... as if it isn't yours in its entirety anyway."

Ryland scoots forward in a very undignified manner. He hears Yao shift behind him to keep him in eyesight, and disregards that in favor of getting close enough to Simon to reach out an put a hand on his ankle. His husband flinches, then lifts his head.

"I know you want to put your past behind you. I need to ask you, as much as I hate to do it, if you would dig into it so we know what we're dealing with."

Simon chews on the inside of his cheek, his eyes welling with tears again. "You won't like what you hear."

"I don't need to like what I hear, I like what I have now." Ryland shrugs. "And at the current moment, what I have now is being threatened by someone I want to know how to thoroughly grind into the dirt under my boot."

There's a small twitch of Simon's lips and he looks down at his hands. "... okay."

"Okay. Now do you want to sit here with the potatoes until they claim you as one of your own, or should we get back to figuring out how best to tell the Blooded Brotherhood where to shove their attempted coup d'état?"

When he and Simon emerge from the pantry, Yao stands to his full height and nods. "It's only my duty that prompts me to ask: you truly do not intend to endanger our Sovereign, Blade?"

"You know I'd sooner fall on my own sword." Simon squeezes Ryland's hand tightly.

"I do. Have to follow customs, you understand... I will handle the rest of the council as you see fit, Your Grace."

"Why don't we make our way back to the meeting room?" Ryland announces loudly, enough so that he knows the other members of said council can hear him. "I think we've disrupted the mornings of our poor staff for long enough, send word that we're getting out of their way!"

The walking back is silent and stiff. Ryland keeps himself planted firmly between Yao and Simon, and Yao in turn keeps himself between Ava and Ryland. Eva keeps a tight grip on her wife as they go, and Rocky and Adrian fall in behind the king and his Chosen Blade. Ilyukhina has been tasked with the job of corralling the kitchen staff back to their workplace, and Carl has disappeared in the time it took to coax Simon out of his hiding place.

"I know this is a nightmare scenario for most of us," he finally declares flatly as they file into the meeting room. There are three king's guard and the missing general waiting at the corners of the room. "I will remind you of the oaths that have been made by all of you in this space. Simon has been as diligent to these oaths as any of you, I will not tolerate aggression in this room. He wants nothing to do with them, and he will help us figure out how to handle them."

"We're going to trust that?"

"You have files on Eden, right?" Simon asks Ava quietly. She turns a searing glare on him. "Fact check me. I'll tell you anything- everything I know."

He spends several hours detailing the inner workings of the Blooded Brotherhood. Any question fielded to him is answered, and though Ava seems no more pleased by the situation at hand, she corroborates everything Simon says after checking her own notes. The Chosen Blade explains raiding patterns, chains of command, kidnappings, carefully planned assassinations wrapped inside larger, violent excursions to hide the true intent of the attacks, methods of training, and the belief systems that young butchers are taught as they are molded to their rank. Butcher is a title, more than a name.

"We cannot give them what they want, but we can issue them a warning." Adrian suggests as they finally turn to the bigger problem: how to respond to Eden's demand. "Tell them that their assumed playing piece does not belong to them and that we know more about them than they can hope to hide from us."

Simon shakes his head. "There's no way to pass on the message."

"We'll send a courier-"

"They'll kill them." He insists. "A messenger is seen as less than cannon fodder, and I don't think reminding them I've defected is going to change their plan. The raids will begin in a fortnight."

"Well we have to try. I'll go." Everyone turns to look at Ilyukhina.

"They will kill you-"

She shrugs, "and if they start raiding they will kill many people. I will take the chance if my death might save lives."

Ryland glances at Eva. Her face is carefully blank. "Olesya, we cannot ask you to sacrifice yourself-"

"You're not asking me, I'm volunteering." Ilyukhina looks at Simon, every line of her face sharp and determined. "Write the letter. Tell them in your own hand that they do not hold sway over you in any way that matters. When they kill me I will die with curses on my lips and hope in my heart that your defiance will make them fear you."

The room is very quiet.

"I will go with her." Yao crosses his arms. "The message will be delivered."

"No! There has to be another way to do this!" Ryland insists. He feels dizzy, he can't watch these two people walk to their deaths with such acceptance.

Simon looks at Ilyukhina for several more long seconds, then pulls one of the chairs out from the table to sit. "Someone get me something to write with?"

Ryland makes a despairing noise and sweeps out into the hallway.

He's lost all control.

He never had control.

He's always been little more than a figurehead, and up until right about now he'd been fine with that. He leans against the wall and slides down to sit on the ground, gripping his hair in his hands. They're going to die. I can't stop them. They're going to die and they've chosen that and I cannot change it no matter how badly I want to-

Bodies nestle against his and he cries as Adrian and Rocky gently console him.

Ilyukhina and Yao leave the next morning.

Word reaches the castle a month after they have gone that the raids have started.

Ryland spends most nights tossing and turning. The war hasn't reached the capitol in earnest yet, but he's been at his wit's end worrying about what havoc is being wrought on his people at the border. He spends his days in war meetings, trying to keep up as Carl and Simon and Ava argue over strategy and dispatch troops and send calls for aid, and he spends his evenings mourning Ilyukhina, Yao, and the unfortunate souls who have become the collateral of this mess. 

Simon isn't doing much better, stressed and angry that the messengers had gone out in vain, but the man has admitted that he's far to accustomed to bloodshed to let it affect his sleep.

When he jostles Ryland awake that night, at first the king thinks his husband is having a nightmare. He goes to reach for Simon's arm to comfort him, and his fingertips have barely touched the warm skin before it yanks away from him, dragging the blankets away from the bed and exposing him to the cold nighttime air.

"Ryland get UP!"

Oh, something is very wrong.

Simon wrenches a nasty looking blade away from an unfamiliar figure, wrestling them away from the bed with a snarl. He shoves the stranger harshly, knocking them from their feet, and the two crash to the ground in a writhing mass of limbs and unfamiliar curses.

"Call the guard!" Simon yells, dragging his opponent sideways and clambering on top of them. He scrabbles, grabs ahold of the discarded weapon lying nearby, and forces the blade up under the attacker's jaw to pin them to the ground.

Ryland scrambles out of bed, scanning the room wildly. Are they alone? Are there going to be more figures in the shadows, waiting to lash out? He can hardly see without his spectacles, so he goes for those first and nearly takes his eye out in his haste to shove them on.

Simon hisses something too quiet for him to hear. He turns to look at the two just as the other man - he can see now it's a man - jeers a response in a tone meant only for the Chosen Blade. Simon growls like a feral dog and bodily hauls the man a few inches off the ground by the front of his tunic, then slams him onto the ground again, driving the air from his lungs and forcing a drawn out groan.

What a horrific time to be entranced by seeing his husband at work. Ryland stares, openmouthed, at the display of raw, violent strength. 

"-land? Ryland! Your Grace!"

Oh damn it all, the guards. He shakes himself and feels his face flush as he stumbles towards the door. The guard outside the entrance is slumped against the wall in a way that makes Ryland's blood run cold, and he screams as he rushes in the direction of Ava and Eva's quarters - they're closest and Ava's also the most likely to have a weapon.

"GRACE?!" Rocky's awake. 

The castle comes alive in the dead of night. The faces blur together as people check Ryland for injuries, push past him in the direction of the room, try to see if anything can be done for the two slain guards that are discovered. The man from the room is hauled out by Carl and Simon, and a seething Ava directs two guards to drag him down to the dungeon while she nurses a dislocated shoulder from fighting off an intruder of her own5.

"Spymaster, this is Asher," Simon growls as he hands the man off to the guards. "I'm sure you'll be great friends."

"These people don't know how to lay you to rest beneath the trees, Butcher!" The would-be assassin spits. "Just remember that."

Simon, three steps towards Ryland after his declaration, whips around and stalks up to the man. He gets right into Asher's face, forcing the man to look up at him to see his eyes.

"You will rot where the roots cannot find you. I will personally ensure it."

Taking a step back and clenching his fists tightly at his side, the Chosen Blade nods to the guards. "Get him out of my sight."

He's dragged away. Simon takes two deep breaths, then strides right up to Ryland and takes his face in his hands.

"Please tell me he didn't get to you first."

Ryland frowns, head spinning. "Wh- huh? I don't think so?"

"Thinking isn't enough, Ryland, those blades are poisoned. Let me see."

Simon's eyes roam over his face with intensity, checking every inch of him. He scans Ryland's jaw, his throat, his bare chest, stretches each arm out to run his fingers along them to be sure. He ducks around behind the king and maps the entirety of his back, and even curls his fingers into his hair to check the nape of his neck and behind his ears.

"Are you okay?" Ryland whispers. He can feel himself shaking, but it's dim. It'll get worse before it gets better, he thinks.

"I've been better."

"Simon."

"Got lucky. Woke up needing to piss and he was standing over me."

Oh the shaking is really getting worse. Simon finishes his security check and steps in front of Ryland again. "Angel?"

"I'm going to throw up-"

They were in his home. They killed his people. They would have killed him, if he didn't have someone who knew them so well so close by.

Hard to get to a threat to the throne faster than someone in bed with the throne.

Ryland breaks down, shaking and sobbing and barely able to stay on his feet as Simon half helps and half carries him back to the bed. He clutches his arms to his stomach and curls in on himself, trying so desperately (and failing) to focus on the strong arm that wraps around his shoulders and pulls him into a hug.

Dimly he registers Simon telling someone to get him water, and something to eat. 

"I hate this- I hate this-"

"I know, Angel..."

The council gathers slowly in Ryland's chambers as he begins to... not calm down, not really, but run out of steam. They all look bone-weary, but in the aftermath of what happened it feels like no one wants to go back to bed. 

"Is everyone in one piece?" Eva sighs, sitting right down on the floor and pushing her loose hair over her shoulder. Ryland whines and buries his head in Simon's neck, feeling his husband nod.

"My shoulder hurts like a bitch, but I'm alive," Ava mutters bitterly. "These fucking assholes just don't know when to quit."

"Did you keep your visitor alive?" Simon asks her. She must shake her head, because he grunts. "What did they look like?"

"Brunette woman, heavy brow - black eyes I think. She was missing two fingers on her right hand."

"Dinah..." Simon mutters, then he gently lifts Ryland off his shoulder. "Sorry, Angel, I need to get up for a moment... Rocky, can you?"

Rocky slots in where he was after a moment and wraps the king up in their arms.

"They sent people I knew, ones I worked with. This was a message... make sure the blade isn't touched, the poison that it's coated in is harsh and the dose is heavy." 

Ryland peeks out to watch Simon hand the knife off to Ava carefully. The Chosen Blade is tense, in a way he hasn't seen from him before. He turns back to look at the bed, but not at Ryland and Rocky sitting there, he's staring at the far side where the attack happened.

"We should rouse the guards, do a sweep of the castle and then set double watches." He tells Carl. 

"I'll do that, you stay here."

"Don't go alone," Adrian chides gently, sitting on Ryland's other side to wrap him in a hug. Ava gets to her feet wrapping the knife in a torn off section of her sleeve. Simon watches the two of them go and then marches over to his kit, beginning to get dressed.

"Si?" 

"You need sleep, Angel."

"Where are you going?" Ryland frowns, sitting up a little bit. Neither Rocky nor Adrian let go of him.

"Nowhere, I'm going to stand guard." Simon hauls his chainmail on and pulls his hair up into a ponytail.

"I... I don't want to sleep alone..." That prospect somehow scares him more than the idea that there might be more assassins lurking in the shadows of the castle.

"We'll stay," Rocky offers immediately, tucking Ryland's head against their shoulder. "Plenty of room in the bed, right Adrian?"

"Of course."

"There you go. They'll stay, I'll stand guard, and we'll figure out what the fuck we do next in the morning..." Simon straps on his sword belt and walks to the foot of the bed, his expression tight. "Sleep first, then we panic."

Betrayed by his own words, again.

Ryland manages a weak smile and shakes his head. "This is very different."

"Just go to sleep, Angel." He comes over to plant a kiss on Ryland's forehead. "I'll know if something's wrong."

The ruling council comes to a very dismal conclusion over the next few days. Armed with Simon's detailed knowledge of the Blooded Brotherhood and Edenite guerrilla warfare, they're able to sketch out a vague pattern of where the attacks have landed so far, and guess where the next one is likely to appear... and the message they're sending is obvious.

"Everything has been a small village or an outpost so far, but there's no small options to move on to from where they've worked their way in. Spira is the only thing within the normal distance... and Spira is a big city."

"It's also where we've begun dispatching our military," Simon grits out, glaring at the map like it personally offended him. "They surely know that."

"So what do we do, ride out to meet them there?" Ava shakes her head. "It won't end well."

"Depends on who's there to greet them."

There are several not-so-subtle glances at Ryland before attention begins to turn to Simon again.

"That's what they want, isn't it?" He speaks to himself more than the others, thumping a fist down on the map and then getting to his feet fully to pace back and forth. "They want to see a familiar face at Spira, that's why they made the pattern so easy to spot... they're laying out the plan so that they can count on us cutting them off."

The Chosen Blade looks up at the general standing across the table from him. "When does the next cohort ride out, Carl?"

"In the morning."

Simon's jaw tenses and he quietly turns to face Ryland.

"No. You can't." 

"Is that an order, Your Grace?"

Oh, Ryland wants to scream. He wants to cry and throw things and break ink pots and cling to Simon like nothing else, no one else matters.

"Never." He whispers, his throat tight. "It's a plea..."

He's a coward, at the end of the day. He's terrified of what his husband is going to do, of what might happen to him.

"Ryland..."

Simon steps up to stand in front of him, a muscle in his jaw ticking as he works over what he wants to say. "You have offered me a home. Allow me to defend it."

"Promise me you will come home."

"On my honor-"

"No," Ryland shakes his head, cutting him off. "I don't want your soldier's honor, I don't want your duty or your sacrifice - Simon, I am demanding, as your husband, that you come back to me. Please, I don't know what I'll do if I lose you."

Simon takes his face in his hands so gently.

"Hell couldn't keep me from you, Angel."

He rides out at dawn.

Ryland absolutely wastes away without his husband. He follows Rocky around like a lost puppy, he refuses meals, he doesn't speak unless he has to, and under all circumstances he absolutely will not hold court. No one really seems to want to call him on his lapse in his work.

He watches the horizon in the direction of Spira for at least an hour each evening. There are two guards posted outside his room and one inside (Simon's insistence before leaving), and Rocky and Adrian temporarily take up home in his bed because he cannot sleep anymore without the comforting sensation of a body nearby. A courier brings word to Eva a few weeks later that the battalion is returning, and he's happier than he's ever been in his life.

The battalion sends a medical wagon ahead.

"Do we know who the wounded are? Their families should be notified and brought to the castle to stay near them while they recover, they've done immense work for the country."

Eva doesn't reply as she and Ryland walk through the castle to meet the wagon when it rolls into the courtyard. She hasn't told him if this return is triumphant, she hasn't told him anything. He couldn't care less, his husband is home.

"Take the wounded to Dr. Lokken at once, then report back." She orders the young soldier at the back entrance of the wagon. The girl nods, her expression a bit vacant, but turns and barks the order into the wagon.

"Start with the Blade!"

Ryland freezes.

There's a stretcher slowly unloaded from the wagon. The body laid on it has been draped in a heavy blanket that hides the majority of the body, and therefore most of the wounds, but his head is visible. Simon is pale and unmoving, the left side of his face covered in some kind of strange burn that melts down his neck. As the soldiers moving the stretcher go, one of them steps on the blanket and it falls to the ground, revealing more melting down the shoulder and chest and-

"What the fuck happened?!" Ryland has to turn away so he doesn't throw up in the path of the stretcher. His husband's arm is missing, shorn off just beneath the shoulder. It looks messy, there's a thick cloth band tied tightly around his shoulder and even the tourniquet hasn't stopped the bleeding entirely, there's a small trickle that drips to the ground every now and then as it slowly soaks the stretcher.

"The letter says he was crushed beneath a house that Eden was razing." Eva looks into the wagon at the other two soldiers inside. "The men helping him sustained worse burns, but the loss is a bit more concerning."

Ryland follows the stretcher without a thought.

He can't help the doctor or her assistant as they descend upon Simon, but he hovers nearby. Armando seems to take pity on him and asks him to hold a bowl of hot water, if he's going to stay nearby. He tries very hard not to cry into it.

After nearly three hours, Dr. Lokken throws her hands up and backs away. She's sweating and disheveled, her forearms are covered in blood, but she looks Simon over and heaves a sigh. "It's up to him now... I bandaged the wounds I could, sewed up what could be mended. I'm sorry I cannot do more, Your Grace."

She ushers Armando and her other aides away, even the discouraged two working on the burned soldiers that likely won't make it through the night. Ryland kneels on the side of the cot next to Simon's good arm, cupping the cold, clammy hand in both of his.

"My love... I shouldn't have let you go." He whispers, pressing his forehead against Simon's knuckles. "You're too good for this, too good for them... they just wanted to take you from me when they have no right to you... I should have fought you, I'm so sorry. I should have been strong - I've never been strong, that's always been you. Maybe if I'd have been strong..." Maybe he wouldn't have had Simon in the first place. If he had been strong, he wouldn't have needed someone to take care of him the way his Chosen Blade so diligently does.

"Please, you promised you'd come back." Ryland cries, holding so tightly. "I know you want to live."

He's right there when Simon shifts for the first time. Ryland has commandeered (with Dr. Lokken's permission so it doesn't really count, though he's guessing she's probably fed up with him by now) a little corner of the castle infirmary to become an impromptu war room. Sheet walls, maps spread out on an empty cot - the one he's been sleeping in which has also pissed off Rocky and Adrian - and an untouched dinner lie forgotten when the soft groan fills the air, and by the time Simon has cracked an eye open Ryland is hovering over him and holding onto his hand like he's going to dissolve into thin air.

"Angel..."

"I asked you to come home."

Ryland doesn't mean for it to come out petulant, but he's so jumbled up. He's so overjoyed and he's so upset and he's so tired.

Simon wheezes, it might have been a laugh if he weren't clearly in pain. "I did..."

"Most of you."

The soldier manages a glance at his mangled shoulder, wrapped in heavy bandages that will need to be changed in a few hours. "Didn't... didn't need that one anyway." 

Ryland cups the unburned side of his face gently. "I was so scared you weren't going to wake up."

"I'm sorry, Angel..." He sighs heavily, then his eyes flicker open again. He frowns, like he's missing a piece of a puzzle. "Did they... is it over?"

"No." 

"Fuck." Simon thunks his head down and closes his eyes. "They- he was there."

"Who?" Ryland shifts to carefully sit down on the edge of the cot.

"He leads the Brotherhood... the Father... he trained...." He groans again and blinks sluggishly. "Trained me... need water."

"Right, hold on- Armando!"

Sending the doctor's assistant to collect some water, Ryland brushes Simon's hair back. "He wants you back that bad, huh?"

"Gave me an ultimatum..." The Chosen Blade's eyes are almost closed again, but he keeps talking. "Go back with him... save you. Said otherwise he'd... he'd come all the way to the castle... to show me what my good intentions do...."

Something twists and snarls in Ryland's chest. He kisses the back of Simon's hand. "I'd like to see him try."

He sits with his husband while Dr. Lokken and Armando check him, and then when he falls back asleep Ryland carefully extricates himself from the grip on his hand. He gathers up the maps methodically, tucks them under one arm, and strides purposefully through the castle to the regular meeting room that the council is likely occupying at that very moment.

"A turn for the better or the worse?" Eva simply asks when he shoves the door open.

"He was awake for a whole thirty minutes." Ryland dumps the maps on the table. "Long enough - and coherent enough - to warn me that the leader of the Brotherhood is heading this way with the express intent to cause harm to this castle and those in it."

"Which we knew-"

"Which we knew." He agrees, shoving the maps away. That's what they all show. "I... I have decided we're going to let them come."

"What? Why?" Ava frowns. "Your Grace-"

"Evacuate the towns in the way, make sure the people and as many livelihoods as can be saved are relocated. Give them a clear shot, right to us, and prepare the castle for siege." Ryland crosses his arms, glaring at the maps as he weighs his options. This could be really stupid - this is really stupid.

He can't get that threat out of his mind. He'd come all the way to the castle to show me what my good intentions do.

Oh he is so pissed.

How dare that mudstain of a man make his husband feel small. He knows how much it means to Simon for him to be gentle.

Ryland's going to tear him apart.

"When they get here, we're going to box them in."

Simon recovers slowly. Every step he makes of progress fuels the rage in Ryland's chest, watching as the other man struggles with basic tasks he never would have had to think about before. He spends a few hours in the infirmary every day, then a few hours with Carl brushing up on swordfighting techniques he never cared about in his youth because he'd never thought he'd need them. and then checks the progress of the fortifications. They're going to play back the guerrilla tactics that they've seen in this war - hide the men in false, burnt out homes, dig trenches, lie in wait and spring the trap when Ryland's good and ready to curse out the Father and the Brotherhood and watch them splatter themselves against his fortress.

"Please be careful, Angel," is all his husband has to say when he explains the plan.

They spot the troops on the horizon three weeks after Simon's return. Cohorts are dispatched in the dead of night, heading for their hiding places. Everyone is to be ready far before they can be spotted, that way the flare Rocky's building has no delay.

"Your Grace," Adrian finds him while he's discussing a disarming maneuver with Carl, standing in Simon's recovery room while the soldier watches with soft amusement at his husband's clear dislike of the trick. "They are approaching with a parlay flag."

Ryland glances at Simon. He goes very still, then shakes his head.

"Put archers on the battlements and instruct them to keep out of sight. I need Ava with me, Carl can you find Rocky and tell them we're doing this now?"

Simon reaches for the king as he lists off his instructions and his two council members dash off to comply. "Angel- don't trust him."

"I don't." Ryland says darkly, squeezing his hand. "What do I need to look out for?"

His armor is not as comfortable as he wants it to be, but Ryland has gotten a lot more used to it in the past few weeks. He finds one of Ava's men, David, as the archers are clambering to their spots and staying unseen. "When I drop the flag, shoot whoever's in front of me and call for the flare."

The man frowns, but nods. "I will, Your Grace."

Ava collects a small grouping of soldiers to follow him, and hands him the parlay flag. Ryland takes a deep breath, and digs into the burning hatred that's bubbling in his stomach. He's heard enough stories about this Father in the past few weeks to be ready to rip him apart by hand.

They ride out to meet the delegation.

The Father is charming, to be sure. He offers a smooth grin as the Eridians approach, sweeping a bow from atop his horse that is mocking, to say the least. "The famed peacemaker. An honor."

"State your terms or do not speak to me." Ryland replies, staring him down.

"Tch, those are words I recognize... how wonderful to see my boy still has his touch."

My boy. Ryland imagines sinking a blade into his chest.

"I've come to tell you it doesn't need to come to this, Your Grace," the Father gestures to the army behind him, to the fortifications behind Ryland. "I was hasty, in my assumption... I wish that we could come to some agreement. You harbor my own, I am not unreasonable."

"What if I am?"

My own. May boils infest the bastard.

"I would think that isn't true." He chuckles. "Surely, you know the danger we pose. A ruler of sound mind would understand - one life for hundreds."

That sinks the stone in Ryland's gut. He wants Simon handed over, he had a feeling that was what he was going to demand, but the trade-off he's offering... one man for the entirety of Erid.

"You would withdraw if we passed off your Butcher?" Ava tilts her head, eyes narrowed. The Father seems to trace the heavy scar on her face with his gaze before he answers, but she doesn't falter.

"We only want what belongs to us."

What belongs to us.

Ryland sees the movement out of the corner of his eye.

An archer rises up from the ranks of the awaiting Brotherhood, arrow trained. Ryland's attention flicks to him, then back to the Father, and he sees the cruel smile on his lips as he raises his hand as if he's going to make another gesture towards the castle.

He drops the parlay flag and rips himself sideways out of his saddle.

Two arrows whistle through the air and Ryland hears Ava cry out in pain. He crashes to the ground and curses as he feels his shoulder do something decidedly wrong, then staggers to his feet to stare at the Father, who looks quite surprised (and maybe a bit proud?) to have an arrow sunk into his chest.

"Simon asked me to tell you to rot amongst the rocks," he says as he hears the flare scream into the sky. The Father chokes on a laugh and slumps backwards on his steed.

The plain descends into chaos.

Ryland remembers very little of the combat. He has flashes in his mind of his sword swinging, his arm under Ava's as he tried to drag her back towards the castle. He remembers bits and pieces of her begging him to let go, telling him she wasn't making it. He thinks he can still taste bile.

Oh, he remembers getting hit in the head.

The sheet walls are surrounding him.

Well we can't be losing, I guess... If someone had gotten him to the infirmary, that means the castle isn't overrun. Ryland tries to shift and a spike of pain drives through his head, making him cry out.

"Oh gods- Angel, I'm so sorry..."

Ryland squeezes his eyes shut and reaches his hand blindly in the direction of the voice. He feels a warm, calloused palm against his own and sighs softly.

"What happened?"

"Uh, according to Rocky you got knocked into the moat." Oh yeah, he does feel pretty uncomfortably cold. "I made Armando check you over entirely for any blade nicks, so you're clear in that regard."

That's unfortunate, he hates the idea of making the medical assistant scan every inch of his unconscious body. Ryland feels Simon squeeze his hand, and squeezes it back.

"I watched him die."

Simon is quiet.

"I told him to rot on the rocks, maybe that's why I fell in the moat."

He barks out a laugh at that. "And it's what he deserved... get some rest, Angel, you did it."