Chapter Text
The hot noonday sun poured heavily into the audience chamber; the light drapes that had been pulled closed hours ago did little to tamper its intensity. It seemed that they only made the expansive room feel smaller and hotter. Of course, the throngs of people huddled about the room awaiting their turn with the governor did not help either. Despite the heat and pressing closeness, the mood of the room was high, almost celebratory. The air thrummed with the crowd’s incessant low chatter and sharp laughs.
“The governor looks…”
“I heard the merchant in the Copper District…”
“No! Surely you jest?!”
“...a beautiful dress!”
“If it weren’t for Lady de Sardet…”
“...and then she…”
Kurt absently listened to the floating pieces of conversation as he tried to ignore the damned heat. He squashed the need to fidget and forced himself to forget the slow crawl of sweat down his back. Standing in an audience chamber watching the upper class vie for Constantin’s attention and insight over petty squabbles was most assuredly not what Kurt wanted to do. The former master of arms knew that, despite his dislike of the tedium, it was his job. Afterall, it was what Prince d’Orsay had paid him to do: stand watch over his son.
Yet, since their arrival in New Serene, Constantin had waved him off, telling him to accompany his fair cousin on her diplomatic adventures. “Father has entrusted us both to you,” Constantin had reminded. “And I would feel much better knowing my fair cousin was in your capable hands. Besides, with the guard here, I will be perfectly safe!” There had been no deterring the strong-willed governor, and Lady de Sardet had looked somewhat relieved to have the former master of arms at her side. Kurt hated to admit it, but he had found de Sardet’s company infinitely more enjoyable than her cousin’s. She somehow managed to make even the most droll of errands exciting.
But then there was the coup.
Kurt learned of it only moments before it was to begin. He had left de Sardet with Constantin to discuss their recent investigation into the Congregation’s past on the island when a young lieutenant found him. “Captain,” he declared boldly, “it is time!” “For what?” Kurt growled in response. He was tired. All he wanted was an ale at the tavern and a comfortable bed. “For the...you know...coup?” the lieutenant finished in a whisper. Kurt blinked. Surely he had not heard the fumbling sot correctly. “The what now boy?” He seized the collar of the lieutenant’s doublet and pulled him close. Confusion flickered across the boy’s face. “Surely you know of it? Commander Torsten assured us you knew and were willing.” “Willing to what?” Kurt probed, shoving the lieutenant none to gently into the wall. “To help us seize New Serene. To be rid of the d’Orsay brat and his meddlesome cousin…” The lieutenant trailed off as he finally noticed the stormy expression on the captain’s face. He tried to wriggle free, but Kurt would have none of it. He slammed the lieutenant against the wood paneled walls, a warning. The boy stilled. “Tell. Me. Everything.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Kurt muttered as he darted up the stairs two at a time. Whoever thought this many stairs was a good idea clearly had never actually walked them. As he crested the landing, Kurt drew himself up. The situation was dire, but he did not wish to draw attention to himself. “Guards,” he said as casually as he could manage. “You are dismissed. You have business elsewhere to attend to.” The two guards outside the audience chamber exchanged a knowing look. “As you say, Captain.” It took every ounce of his willpower to not sprint into the audience chamber. Instead, Kurt paused, taking a deep breath and clearing his mind, just as he had taught his green blood to do so many years ago. In truth, if the target of the coup had just been Constantin, Kurt might have considered. The boy was inept and too headstrong; he had already almost brought ruin to himself on numerous occasions. Only he and de Sardet had managed to smooth things over and avert disaster. Deposition seemed like a natural price to pay for such ineptitude.
Yet, the uprising did not target just Constantin, but all the governors, ministers, and aides of Teer Fradee. And that included his green blood. De Sardet, Kurt mentally chided himself. The lines between student and teacher, client and employee, had begun to shift since their arrival on the island. While he had agreed to Lady de Sardet’s request of friendship, Kurt found himself growing overly familiar with her, taking liberties he never would have dreamed of in Serene. He watched her in her role of legate, noting the subtlety she used when speaking with the Mother Cardinal, her cutting wit lingering just beneath the surface. The way she consoled Siora after the Battle of the Red Spears and helped her reclaim her mother’s body. The easy repertoire she shared with Vasco. Her soft voice and kindness when she asked him about Reiner. Somewhere along the line, de Sardet had transformed from the self-conscious, shy green blood he had trained into a beautiful, capable, fascinating woman. Or maybe, she had always been that way and he had just been too thick to see it. Regardless of how he felt, de Sardet was a good woman. One who did not deserve the fate that the traitorous Commander Torsten had planned for her.
Kurt pushed into the audience room. It was abandoned except for a few guards, Constantin, and de Sardet. Constantin sat upon his cushioned chair, head to one side, tightly gripping his cousin’s hands. He looked every inch the spoiled, dejected prince. Perhaps he already knew? But no, that was not it. Kurt watched de Sardet, as he had on so many of their adventures. Her gray eyes were open wide, her normally bright and sunkissed skin pale. She had a look of desperation and open fear; it rolled off of her in waves so strongly that Kurt could feel them from the back of the hall. This was not the look of a woman who had learned of a coup. This was something else. Constantin shifted in his chair, pulling de Sardet closer. “Cassandra, I’m…” but the governor’s words were swallowed by the hall. She slipped a hand from Constantin’s and gently cupped his cheek, a steely resolve settling in her eyes. “No,” she said softly, simply. It carried through the hall with a force Constantin’s words had not been able to. Despite the pressing need of the situation, Kurt stalled, unsure of how to address the coup in the face of such intimacy.
But he could wait no longer. He broke into their reverie as only he knew how. “Guards, dismissed!” He issued the command with such authority that the men scrambled from the room. No questions asked. De Sardet turned, her silvery eyes finding his. Kurt watched as she struggled a moment before a polite, neutral, diplomatic expression settled across her face. As if he had not just witnessed her naked emotions only a moment before. “Captain,” she started before being cut off by Constantin. “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded. “Kurt, explain yourself, at once! Those guards work for me!” Kurt approached the dias where the cousins stood, protocols be damned. “I’m afraid they don’t.” De Sardet held out a hand, stopping Constantin before he could speak. Only she held the power to curb her cousin so effectively. “Captain, please explain,” she urged him, softly. And so he did.
“Those...those...scoundrels!” Constantin fumed. “I will put an end to this immediately!” “No. You will not, cousin.” De Sardet sighed, more annoyed than worried. “You are far too weak. I will take care of this. Kurt will assist me in escorting you and the advisors to a safe location.” There was a slight lurch in the captain’s stomach when he heard his name, and not title, drop from de Sardet’s lips. “Cassandra,” Constantin wheedled. “She is right,” Kurt interrupted, forcing himself to focus on the situation at hand and not the feelings de Sardet had managed to arouse in him. The governor seemed to grasp that his two closest allies were united against him. Pouting, he followed the two as they escorted him from the audience room.
The rest of the evening was tense and frenetic. Once Constantin and his advisors had been delivered to a safe house, Kurt and de Sardet worked frantically to avert the crisis. Messengers were dispatched, pockets of resistance cleared, and finally, after many long hours, Commander Torsten was apprehended. In the dawn light, Kurt saw de Sardet’s exhaustion etched into her face. “Lady de Sardet,” he started, only to be interrupted by her acerbic laugh. “Lady de Sardet, is it?” she chided. “Come now Kurt, I thought we were friends. What happened to green blood? Besides, we both know that I am hardly a lady.” She let the innuendo hang in the air until Kurt found himself coughing to change the subject.
“Green blood,” he started again, watching as she nodded with a small smirk, “I was trying to say you should rest. You look awful.” “Ever the gentleman,” she retorted, lightly touching her heart as if she had been wounded by his words. Kurt mentally kicked himself. “I just meant…”
“I know, I know,” de Sardet waved him off, a small smile tugging the corner of her lips. “You know, for a mercenary, you are easily disarmed.” He rolled his eyes. Even after a hellish night, de Sardet managed to joke. “Green blood, you know damn well words aren’t my business. My job is to swing the sword; you’re the one who uses the pretty words.” De Sardet chortled, a decidedly unladylike sound. “How astute!” she taunted him. “Perhaps you should be the legate, and I the mercenary. The Mother Cardinal would undoubtedly appreciate your...diplomacy more than mine.” De Sardet smiled wickedly at him then, her eyes flickering appreciatively. Kurt felt his ears burn; suddenly, he was relieved that the d’Orsay Square was so dimly lit. “And to think I worried about you,” he muttered to himself. The two walked amiably in silence, elbows bumping occasionally before they finally reached the de Sardet manor.
“I feel as if I have been escorted home by a beau,” De Sardet joked. “After an especially horrible outing, I should add.” Kurt sighed. In his concern for her earlier, he forgot how exasperating the young woman could be. De Sardet noticed the exasperation on his face, and the laughter slowly drained from her face. Gently, almost tentatively, she placed a hand on his armored chest. Kurt grew unnaturally still, afraid of what to do or say. “Kurt, thank you.” She pressed lightly, as if it would help carry the weight of her words. “I know I tease you often, and that I am no doubt the source of your constant annoyance, but you saved us tonight. Me,” she amended a heartbeat later. “I do not know what I would do without you.” She stood then on tiptoes and delicately kissed the scar on his cheek. Kurt savored the moment her soft lips brushed his skin, the smell of soap and sweat and rose oil enveloping him. In that moment, Kurt wanted nothing more than to seize her and feel the press of her body against his; to bury his face in her neck and tell her how the thought of losing her terrified him more than he thought anything could. If only he could unfreeze himself, if only he were bold.
And then, she was gone, back to an appropriate distance, her hands clasped demurely in front of her. She studied him, searching for something in his still face. Whatever it was, she did not find it, and Kurt watched as her diplomat’s mask slid into place. “Good night, Kurt,” she said softly, and perhaps with a hint of disappointment, as she slipped into the manor.
In the aftermath of the night, Kurt cursed himself for his stupidity. For not seizing the moment de Sardet had placed before him. Irritably, he clenched and unclenched his hands, wanting to touch the spot she had kissed him, but refusing to as a point of pride. He felt like the foppish fool from Serene that he had teased de Sardet about. He was twelve years her senior, beneath her station, and a hired guard. He berated himself; he had no right to get so carried away. He knew better. She was only paying him a courtesy. By the time Kurt returned to his barracks in the Governor’s Palace, he had managed to squash his emotions, tucking them away in a small box of excuses.
Kurt did not see de Sardet for four days after the coup. He was obligated to guard Constantin, and so he remained close to him. Fully armored, he stood on the dias watching the people in the audience chamber. Word had escaped that the governor had the Malichor, that the legate wasn’t actually part of the royal family, and there had been an attempted coup. The gossip had fueled the court, and they were beginning to trickle in to see the governor as if he were part of a menagerie.
Kurt had expected de Sardet to be present at her cousin’s side, navigating the murky waters of colonial politics. He found himself longing for her teasing despite the exasperation it brought. Anything to alleviate the boredom of this. But still, she was absent. Lady Morange had said that she was busy putting out fires and dealing with the state of their alliances. “She is doing her duty as a legate,” Lady Morange scolded Constantin when he pressed for servants to fetch de Sardet. “Let her be.”
On the fifth day, de Sardet appeared, travelling pack on her shoulder, Siora and Vasco at her heels. “Cousin,” she said with false cheer. Kurt stood straighter at the sight of her, mentally admonishing himself for his foolishness. She barely spared him a glance. “Cassandra! I was wondering when I would see you again!” Constantin clapped as he stood to hug her. As she approached, Kurt saw her tight smile, exhaustion hovering around her eyes. “Do not get too overjoyed, I am simply here to tell you I am off.” Constantin frowned. “So soon, fair cousin?” “I will only be gone but a moment,” she assured. Her eyes cut briefly to Kurt before she refocused on Constantin.
“Siora tells me that there is a great native healer on the island. I hope to find him and bring him here…” Uncertainty filled de Sardet’s voice. “Of course, fair cousin. Of course.” It was enough. De Sardet stepped back. “Might I have a word with your Captain before I depart?” Kurt felt the unnatural stillness return to him, as if he had been caught red handed. Constantin nodded, imperiously waving him away.
“Green Blood.” He tried to keep the accusation from his voice. “Captain.” She returned. He did not fail to note the formality that had returned to de Sardet’s voice, as if she needed to hide behind the safety of protocol. “I...I need you to stay here.” Her words came slowly, like they were coated in molasses. Kurt said nothing. “Tin-tam is not well; he is weak and I fear he is not safe.” Kurt searched her face, realizing it was the worry that drove her to distraction. She hadn’t used Constantin’s childhood nickname in years. A slip perhaps, or a moment of familiarity, Kurt could not tell.
She lightly touched his arm, startling Kurt back to the present, his heart fluttering like a school girl’s despite his best efforts. “I can trust no one else. You have differences, I know, but you have been with us for so long, and you have proven your loyalty and dedication tenfold.” To you, Kurt thought sourly, although he said nothing. “Watch over him, Captain. Keep him safe.” Her gray eyes found his, begging him. Perhaps she realized how tenuous his relationship with Constantin was. Maybe she was able to read his innermost thoughts, and knew the night of the coup could have gone very differently. “Of course, Green Blood. It’s my job, isn’t it?” De Sardet did not smile, did not let out a sigh of relief. Instead, he found her searching his face yet again. It was discerning how she could see through his layers in a matter of seconds. “Kurt...thank you,” she patted his arm, a ghost of a smile on her lips.
And then she was gone.
And he was left behind. A renown mercenary captain, a former master of arms, and a guardian, refusing to admit he pined after the noble woman that was his charge.