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Chapter Text

The whispers around the castle told that the Darach- “dark druid” in an ancient local dialect according to Phastos- had arrived. Normally, the arrival of a mage to train in the magic-using branch of the royal army was not news, but this one had one hell of a nickname. Rumors flew about that he’d done unspeakable things, or had powers of manipulation beyond comprehension. He could heal or he could wound. No one knew who his parents were or where he’d learned it all. He once killed his own brother. Or sometimes it was a cow with his bare hands. Or a werewolf. His own town had cast him out in fear. Or they’d passed around a hat to fund his trip to Court with pride. He might have been a noble’s secret son.

“Or just another nerd with his scribbled-in books and magic rocks.” Thena, captain of the Order of Domo – more commonly known as the royal guard - had said. She did not put much stock in magic or learning, preferring the simplicity of the martial arts. “Why spend my days chanting in dark rooms and memorizing alchemical ingredients when I can just pick up a sharp object and stab my enemy in the heart?” She once said. Makkari wanted to be her when she grew up. She was already an adult, sure, but whenever it was that Thena finally retired (or died gloriously, more likely) Makkari wanted to be the one who took up her position. Thena seemed amicable about her potential.  

Nonetheless, heads were turning and hushed voices muttering all through the feast hall on the night he arrived. The members of the Mage Corps and select few influential scholars sat at the lowest feast table directly alongside the guard. This allowed Makkari to eat in the same room as the royals she was sworn to protect from beside her comrades in arms and her brother Phastos as he argued endlessly with the other non-magic scholars over drole concepts like engineering and anatomy. It also meant that she frequently spent the whole night trying to avoid her parents’ scornful stares from the Nobility feast table.  

But tonight, it meant her seat was right front and center for the action, front-row for the dramatics. The supper had already begun some time ago and she was feasting quite merrily until she felt the room go silent. The typical buzz in her ears that let her know the hall was packed with a noisy but comfortable din fell eerily still, and she looked up to see that no one’s lips were moving.  

Following their gaze, she watched as several mages entered into the room behind a boy who could only be the Darach. The one the fuss was all about. The Dark Druid...she understood the name now, it was evident on site. The boy strode into the room smoothly on an aura of power. His robes were all black with hints of red where most mages relished their status and made use of whatever depth of color they could afford. His hair was dark and fell around his ears and forehead in soft thick locks. His eyes were a piercing steel blue as they came into view, and Makkari swallowed thickly as she looked down at the empty space on the bench beside her, one of the few spots left. It would be hard to secretly enjoy all the gossip about the man from directly beside him. She was decidedly disappointed and set her attention back to her food as he made his way toward her.  

It was that very spot he chose, of course, though he did not initially meet her gaze. His eyes seemed bored and cold in fact, uninterested or aloof to the giddy gossips, exuberant tale-tellers, fear-mongerers, and conspiracists studying him with bated breath. Makkari slid her gaze toward him slyly and felt the subtle vibration of some unknown sound from his mouth. He did not look up as he did, setting upon the food instantly and without shame, so she had no idea what he’d said.  

Finally, he looked up at her with a glint of annoyance.  

“Fine.” His lips read. “I’ll get them myself.” She bristled at the affront and sat up straighter, allowing her pauldrons to deceitfully extend the breadth of her petite form. She pulled the paper and quill she always kept handy from her bag quickly and jotted down her haughty response like she did everything else; speedily. 

I can’t hear, jackass. Look at me when you speak and maybe we’ll get somewhere.  

She slid him the note roughly with a single raised brow in challenge. For a brief moment, she remembered the rumors stating this man was dangerous. Hateful. Evil, even. She almost felt the briefest twinge of regret. Perhaps her temper had gotten the best of her. 

But then the boy’s jaw jerked back in surprise. His head tilted to the side, and he cocked a surprisingly easy, if sloppy smirk that flashed across his face and vanished in an instant. 

“Sorry,” He said, turning to face her so that his surprisingly full, beautiful lips were completely visible. “I asked you to pass the mashed potatoes. If looks could kill, you’d be more adept at magic than myself.” He gestured to her quill and stole her hateful note sheet. To Makkari’s surprise, she handed over the quill, perhaps out of curiosity. Next time I need an ego check, I’ll be sure to say something ignorant to you, he wrote. 

Before she could process the self-deprecating attempt at humor, the boy wordlessly returned all of this attention to the meal, which he ate with unexpected voracity. The sheer amount he managed to guzzle was matched only by the lack of propriety with which he ate it. This was no common mage. No sooner than she noticed and began to process this fact, he pointed toward another dish and lifted his eyebrows in question. Her brows furrowed in confusion. Where the hell was the supposed harbinger of darkness she’d been promised? Who was this rural dork eating all of her God-given egg tarts? 

Hesitantly, she reached across the table and passed him the scones in question. He gave her a subtle pleasant nod to showcase his gratitude. Makkari turned her eyes to meet her brother’s, who was naturally gawking from several people down the table. They stared at each other in bewilderment for a moment. 

This kid is fucking weird, Makakri signed swiftly. 

What the hell is he doing? Don’t piss off the psycho prince of darkness. Phastos signed back feverishly.  

He’s eating all the meat. I’ll starve! Makkari retorted. 

Let him eat your stupid meat! Better than eating your dreams or whatever it is ‘dark druids’ do . Phastos shot back. 

Makkari felt a light tap on her shoulder suddenly and whipped her head around to see the dream-eater in question. With his appetite, she’d be lucky to ever dream again. 

“Is that a language?” The boy asked suddenly, breaking her from her thoughts. He gestured to Phastos, who hid his face conspicuously then pretended to be very involved with studying the ceiling. The Darach seemed not to notice. Instead, his eyes were glinting with interest. 

Makkari nodded slowly. Sort of, it’s something my brother and I came up with over the years so I wouldn’t have to write all the time. She wrote quickly, showing him the note. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. 

“Teach me.” He said forcefully. “It’s convenient. For not being overheard. And then you won’t have to write to me either. Makes dinner conversation simpler.” She blinked in response. 

You want to learn...this?  She wrote, then shook her hands in his direction. He nodded. 

“Is that so strange?” He asked. She shook her head after a moment. 

I guess not. No one’s ever asked before. She wrote.  

How do I say, “What is your name?” The boy wrote quickly. Makkari showed him how she and her brother had come to block the phrase. Carefully, he reproduced it. 

What is your name?  

Makkari. She wrote. Then she pointed to herself and showed him the shorthand gesture Phastos used to refer to her. My sign name, she wrote. The mage nodded and recreated the gesture several times to get it right. He was a quick study indeed. 

What is your name? Makkari signed slowly, giving the boy the chance to process and practice what he’d learned.  

Druig, he wrote down.  

Why do they call you ‘the dark druid’? Makkari wrote after a moment, too curious of this odd man not to ask. The boy sighed heavily and appeared to express a modicum of embarrassment. 

“My nickname growing up in the village.” He said, rubbing his forehead. “Dark Druig.” He grimaced. "I started learning magic and people got it confused with druid. Several feats of magic later and people start whispering the Darach is here to steal their souls.”  

Makkari couldn’t help but smile, something Druig seemed to find contagious as a small smirk stretched across his skin, revealing a dimple that had been hiding just beneath the precious skin of his youthful cheeks. 

Pleased to make your acquaintance, your lord of darkness. She wrote. 

“And yours, m’lady.” He murmured, taking in her radiance with a smile. 

Chapter Text

Druig left the feast hall in a shockingly good mood with much to think about.  

It should hardly have been the first time he considered a non-verbal language for covert communication, but now he wouldn’t have to spend time creating one on his own. By some luck of the draw, he’d met a knight uniquely qualified and willing to simply teach him. It was very rare he considered himself a lucky person. Especially these days.  

Perhaps, if he garnered her trust, she would even let him poke around her brain so he could pick it up faster.  

He stopped mid-stride at the thought. Who are you kidding? With your reputation? You’ve just met this girl and you can just casually bring up being a master of Cerebremency? Sure. And she’ll just let you go rooting around in her mind. How well did that work out when you tried to find out what games the other kids liked to play growing up? He thought of the stones thrown at him in the street, the shadow that followed him always. He thought of his father.  

Druig shook the memories away. Not today. Not on a good day. Things were bad enough without-  

“Druig.”  

His head whipped around at the sound of his name, and he realized that he’d found himself stopped in an empty hallway near his quarters. Near safety. He could’ve avoided this whole conversation if he’d just kept walking and made it to his room. Fucking shit, he thought.  

“What do you need?” He replied coolly, schooling his features into the unfathomably empty expression he’d learned to perfect at far too young an age.  

“I wanted to talk to you. This is my first chance to see you since...” The queen mother herself looked at a loss for words. Irritatingly, the beautiful woman seemed perfectly sincere, maybe even a little ashamed, and Druig hated her for it. But he did not let it show. He would not give her that satisfaction. “I’m just meeting you. We have to start somewhere.”  

“I’ll repeat: Is there something you require of me, my lady?” He despised that his voice betrayed a hint of strain. He was aware he was being cruel, and pretty soon he would not be able to maintain his veneer of aloofness. He felt the rage red hot in his blood, boiling under the surface as he looked at her.  

Ajak was still, her hands clasped in front of her. Her posture was unerringly regal even in this moment as her face revealed more than a flicker of emotion. Too genuine and earnest for a leader. Too weak, too complicated. Good at her job, beloved by all. Druig knew who she really was.  

“We need to talk about it some time, Druig. You are my son. I never wanted to leave you behind, and if it weren’t for the responsibilities of my position, I would have gladly given everything to stay with you and your father in Heimrehill forever. It was a difficult decision made out of necessity with everyone’s safety in mind, but one that I would make again.” She reasoned.  

“You’re doing a fantastic job of garnering my sympathy,” Druig spat. “Saying you have no regrets for begetting a son to a lovesick pauper who had no mind or business raising a child on his own! Let alone one with a magical lineage as powerful as yours. I know how easy it must have been for someone to come along and make sure no threat to your heir lived past infancy, but by all means don’t do me any favors. Afterall, it’s always good to have a backup heavens forbid your prince bites it. I was the one he never forgave for being born.”  

“Druig, I did not conceal my pregnancy for nine months and defend your life from my late husband for years just as a political contingency.” Ajak stepped forward, her vein rising from her neck as the only indication that her temper was flaring. “Do you really think it was easy for me to leave you both behind? Right after I gave birth to you?”  

Druig refused to envision her this way, a real person feeling the pain of separation from their own child. He scoffed audibly.  

“I am sorry for the pain I’ve caused you, Druig. I truly want to change things now.” She plead.  

“Well, well, well.” Came another voice, turning Druig’s blood cold before he could falter to her ploys for compassion. “The prodigal son returns.”  

Druig turned to see none other than the valiant Ikaris, Ajak’s golden boy. He felt every muscle in his body tense with hate, like a snake readying to strike. The heir apparent, Ikaris was older, widely regarded as handsome, healthy, and good at damned near everything. As far as Druig knew, he was the only other person who knew of his parentage. Currently, he was stood smugly up against a pillar, arms crossed and smile cruel.  

“Ikaris, you are not helping.” Ajak warned.  

Druig’s eyes narrowed. On impulse, he drew on the power inside him and invaded Ikaris’ mind. He flipped through the boys thoughts as easily as pages of a book.  

“Just back from fucking your little milkmaid, Ikaris?” Druig asked, wicked smirk as natural as breathing. Ikaris face fell instantly murderous as he stepped threateningly towards him.  

“Get out of my head, you freak.” He seethed.  

“A word of brotherly advice. Careful, or you’ll end up with an army of little bastards just like me.” Druig retorted, smug as ever. Ikaris made another move to no doubt pummel him, and Druig considered the manifold ways he would enjoy ravishing the cockhead’s mind.  

“Stop this, both of you!” Ajak cut in harshly, her voice rising momentarily as her mask slipped. She remembered the ears around her palace and stepped between them whispering sharply. “I will not abide this kind of warfare in my own home. Ikaris, you are to treat Druig as nothing less than family. Druig, I mean what I say. I want to know you. I know it is too late for us to have the relationship I would have wanted, but I brought you here so I could get to know you.”  

Druig felt his chest constrict with a sharp pain that foretold a desire to commit some act of violence he had not yet decided on.  

“I know the real reason you brought me here, Ajak, so you can cut the motherly act. My skills could have taken me anywhere or nowhere, but I was somehow rather forcefully invited to join your prestigious Mage Corps here at court without ever applying. People were getting scared of my power outside your walls, so you brought me here to keep an eye on me. This is no mere act of matronly good will, I’m a prisoner you’re still deciding whether or not to kill. I see right through your bullshit. If you’d had any sense, you would have birthed your second son with a mind more like your first’s.” He snarled. She stepped back as if burned.  

“Watch the way you speak to her,” Ikaris growled. “She’s still your queen.”  

“I’m his mother,” Ajak countered, attempting to reconcile and still reeling from Druig’s seething rebuttal.  

“No,” Druig replied coldly, slipping back on his mask of emotionlessness. “You’re neither of those things. To me, you’re just a woman I want nothing to do with.”  

With that, he gathered himself up and walked briskly past his two assailants, and this time he did not stop until he reached his quarters, slammed his door, and locked it tight.  

At least he could look forward to the breakfast spread tomorrow morn. And maybe, just maybe, some less infuriating company.  

Chapter Text

The next morning, Makkari woke before the sun as usual. She was awake, kitted up, and glowing with excitement before even the sky was. She trotted down the stairs from the barracks, closely followed by an equally mentally present if less exuberant Thena. They rounded by the kitchens on their way to the feast hall, Makkari skidding to a stop when she saw a familiar face in its midst. She pointed excitedly and dragged Thena inside.   

“Gilgamesh,” Thena said calmly, a subtle but no less impactful knowing smile on her mouth.   

“My goddess Thena,” the sturdy and kind-faced man rumbled. “Good morn to thee.” He swept across the room to her, taking her out-stretched hand kissing her knuckles.   

“Far too early for that,” Thena rebuffed without a hint of malice. “What brings you to the kitchens? Stop pestering these poor cooks.” As if she didn’t know. Gilgamesh spent most of his time off-duty from the night watch in the kitchens, colluding with professional culinarians to create exquisite dishes to fill his penchant for the finer things in life.   

“I was just off my shift and away for bed, alas.” He replied amicably. “Had to stop by for a bite before slipping off, my captain.” It was well known that Thena was not just captain of the royal guard, but a brilliant tactician who was often tapped in particularly difficult stretches of war to lead the war effort, in which times Gilgamesh, captain of the night watch, took up her role in the castle. The two were a dalliance of swans, always missing one another but complementary in a way that was far too good to overlook. Little time though they found for each other, their casual banter revealed an inclination toward romance that fell second to their reverence for their careers. They shone brightest in battle, and Makkari thought it would certainly be a swoon-worthy if concerning occasion to see them fight side by side.  

Makkari swung her arms and blinked innocently as Thena bid a quick farewell to Gilgamesh and steered her away.   

“Don’t act cute. I know what you did.” Thena stated with a single raised brow. Makkari feined ignorance, which Thena decidedly did not buy, but also pursued no further.   

It wasn’t long into breakfast when a somber-looking Druig wandered into the hall. By this point, most of the guard and mages had made their way to the meal before their morning drills. The heavy-lidded Druig made his way to Makkari’s table and plopped down on the bench beside her unceremoniously.   

Not sleep well? Makkari signed, pantomiming for ease of comprehension.  

Druig turned to her with a deadpan expression. “Never do.” He reached for an ale and dropped some herb into it before stuffing a loaf of bread in his mouth.  

Makkari eyed the concoction suspiciously before signing What is that? so he could surmise the meaning.  

“Fiddleroot.” He stated, making a concerted effort to exaggerate the motion of his lips so that she wouldn’t have to work too hard at reading them this early in the morning. “Stimulant. Wakey-wakey juice.” Makkari found herself smiling at his candor. “Do you have a sign for fiddleroot?”  

She thought about it. She pulled out her paper and quill. Not yet, she wrote. But we can make this a sign for fiddleroot if it’s going to be a frequent topic of conversation. She gestured as if to draw the opening of the fiddleroot’s seasonal bloom and then widening eyes emphasized by opening her hands and stretching the fingers on either side of her face.   

“Was that latter sign the one you already use for stimulant?” He asked. Makkari was stunned.  

Yes, actually, she signed. Really good guess, you’re not in my mind, are you? She wrote, eyeing him suspiciously. His face soured a bit and he took another fistful of food and chewed it before answering.   

“No. You’d know if I was.”  

Makkari paused for a beat, then lacking restraint as usual, wrote what she was thinking.  

You don’t like to use it unless you have to, do you? The- what's it called? Mentalrithmancy? Mind jostleration. Brain fuckery magic.  

“Cerebremency.” His mouth unmistakably made the word, but the vibrations she felt were so faint she wasn’t sure if he’d done more than breathed. “Yes. I try to avoid mind fuckery.”  

If you were in my head, would you be able to learn sign easier? Would you be able to understand the way I think? Makkari wrote quickly, interest suddenly piqued. Druig fidgeted slightly.  

“That’s...a very intriguing question, actually. But are you really even considering letting me into your thoughts? You realize I could turn you into a potato with legs?”  

Makkari shrugged, unbothered as usual. Everyone seems to think you’re pretty darn powerful, so I assume you have some skills and control. She wrote. If it helps you learn my language faster, it’s worth a shot, right?  

“You...are impatient. You’re really willing to risk total mental incapacitation instead of just taking your time to teach with a one hundred percent chance I’ll learn it naturally?” Druig said incredulously.  

Hey man, I’m a warrior, not a scholar. Besides, you’re the only person who’s ever asked to learn it. Won’t you get bored if it takes forever? Makkari wrote in response.   

“Please don’t quit your day job.” Druig retorted. “And I promise if I think I can manage learning by digging around in your head without doing any permanent damage I’ll give it a shot.” Makkari reached her hand out toward the boy and stared into his pale blue eyes with a challenge.  

Deal. She signed and mouthed, tilting her chin up.  

Druig was momentarily distracted by the playful curve of her lips before he met the gaze of her warm brown eyes once more. He shook the hand.  

“Deal.” He said, tilting his chin up to mimic her pose.  

After breakfast, the mages and knights trudged their way to training grounds. Well, all but Makkari, for whom training exercises were the highlight of life. She excelled in the simplicity and physicality of fighting. Anything to get her buzzing muscles working, anything to burn some of the overflowing energy bubbling in her every pore. She grinned devilishly as she read the instructions on Thena’s lips. Sparring. No greater joy in the world.  

Slowly and subtly, all the others knights inched away from Makkari, leaving her suddenly in an empty circle as they attempted to pair off and avoid her wrath. Makkari looked around, confused, but Thena rolled her eyes.  

“Come on, you cowards. Someone just volunteer to get your ass beat today and I promise you won’t have to be her partner for the rest of the week. Actually, we have an uneven number today. Spinder, Roth, both of you take her. That ought to be more fair.” Thena ordered. Spinder and Roth didn’t seem so sure, but they begrudgingly dragged themselves into Makkari’s line of sight and lifted their weapons with shaky arms, eyeing each other fearfully.   

Makkari’s speed and agility were a thing to be reckoned with. Some even maintained that they were downright supernatural. As she ran at Roth, he had not one chance in hell of avoiding the impact, but he desperately attempted to dodge anyway. Too fast, she body checked him with her pauldrons and he went flying. She pulled out her dual swords, relishing in the tiny scraping feeling of the twin blades sliding against one another as she unsheathed them.  

She whipped around to Spinder and lunged. He barely had his sword and shield up as he attempted to keep pace and block her assaults. The shield dented with one impact, and Spinder realized with a gulp that any hope he’d held of blocking until she grew tired and there was an opportunity to counterattack was ill-founded. The knight never ran out of energy, it was impossible.  

Makkari looked at him with boredom. He was no match, and his silly little shield – a useless object she never found use for – was simply delaying the inevitable. She braced to charge him again when she felt movement from behind her. Outpacing the wind itself, she turned and sliced at Roth, who stumbled back. Spinder seized the moment and lunged in, but not before Makkari could parry with both swords and push his blade aside. She spun, kicking his sword hand aside and sending the weapon flying as she unleashed a flurry of blows at Roth and his slow, heavy greatsword. Quickly closing the distance between them, she kicked at his middle as she slammed her sword down on his bracers, throwing him off balance.  

As he stumbled backward, she spun on her heel again and stabbed one thin blade at the space between Spinder’s leg and knee armor. It cut skin, he fell to one knee. Not wasting a moment, she turned one last time and grabbed the now unarmed Roth by the head and rolled backward. He sailed through the air and toppled down onto Spinder, both grumbling and moaning in pain. They stayed down. Makkari sheathed her blades and stared up at her mentor, Thena, triumphantly. Thena shook her head with a proud smile.  

Across the lot, Druig had been watching the glorious display and found himself enamored.  

“Finally, a worthy opponent.” He said, turning with a wicked grin to the twenty odd mages sprawled on the ground around him, writhing in agony. Some were still in tears, clutching their heads and wincing, others rocking back and forth or shaking. “Honestly. You’re battle mages. Improve your mental guards already.” He looked up to see Andgeir, the general of the Mage Corps, glaring at him with a set jaw.  

“I asked you to spar Heinrich or use the dummies for target practice. There was no need for your wanton display of dominance.” Andgeir hissed.  

“It’s my first day. Now you know what level I’m actually on. Find me something challenging, or I’ll do it myself, just like I’m going to do now.” Druig retorted confidently, then he faced back toward the knights of the Order and made his way across the field.  

“Makkari, Makkari,” He said graciously once he was in her view. “Beautiful and threatening. It looks like you and I are both a bit outmatched for everyone else here, and there’s nothing more maddening than boredom. Care to fight someone interesting?”  

Makkari raised a brow at him, smile creeping across her face naturally. Her eyes flicked to Thena for permission, and the elder woman eyed Druig scrutinizingly. Whatever she thought of him, Druig could not quite discern, but she seemed interested and recognized Makkari’s thirst for a real fight. She nodded in approval.  

“Don’t seriously injure each other. This is just a scrimmage.” Thena barked half-heartedly.  

Druig faced down the beautifully terrifying warrior before him. Her warm brown skin shone with a golden glow and her deep brown eyes glinted with something vicious and mischievous at once. However shit yesterday had been, at least he’d chosen the right seat at dinner it seemed. He had no idea how strong her mental barriers were, or how difficult it would be to navigate and interpret thoughts that made no use of verbal language. His heart surged with excitement at the prospect of exploring someone so unique- but then he caught himself. Remember, he thought, you have to be careful. She was the first interesting, let alone unafraid person he’d met in years. He didn’t want to risk losing her so soon.  

“I’ll keep my promise from earlier.” He stated calmly, assuming a defensive position. “I’ll keep this fight fair and not go barreling through your mind like a hot knife in butter.”  

Makkari actually laughed, not just with her expression but with her voice, and Druig’s chest inexplicably caught for a moment. She gave him an expression that needed no words to translate. Don’t go easy on me. I’d like to see you try. She readied herself as well, pulling out her blades and shaking out her shoulders.  

“Begin!” Thena yelled with a stomp, alerting Makkari to the news with her peripheral movement.  

Makkari surged toward Druig, but he was ready with a ball of fire in hand. She skidded back and changed the angle of assault, Druig’s flaming projectile missing her by inches. Dammit, Druig thought. She really is too fast.  

She came at him before he could move, giving him just enough time to raise a magical barrier and prevent himself losing a limb. Within mere seconds, he realized there was no chance of winning against her sheer speed without access to her thoughts. Raising the shield around him on all sides, he folded his hands together and closed his eyes, pledging mentally to do nothing that would warp her mind or play on her fears. When his eyes opened again, they were an unnatural, glowing gold.  

Makkari immediately stepped back subconsciously. Suddenly, she understood what he’d meant when he’d said cryptically she’d know when he was in her head. There was a distinct prickling feeling that made the hair on the back of her neck rise, her brain quivering at the somehow unmistakable knowledge of its intruder. She could feel him, as if his fingers were inside her skull recklessly slipping around and poking into the folds of her brain. It felt nauseating, a terror that could not be pinpointed. This was what everyone was afraid of, she realized, and she was pretty sure he was only taking a peek at her thoughts. Judging by mages still cowering in fear across the lawn, this was a mere fraction of his capabilities, one precision-honed skill of many in his repertoire.  

Druig on the other hand, was not finding it so easy. He could hear the impacts as Makkari had begun to rage against his magic shields, and he hadn’t even begun to get a grasp of her mind. He tried to still her for a second, make her pause, but she didn’t even flinch. His normally dominating presence was nothing compared to her unnatural force of will. To make matters worse, he couldn’t get a grip on her thoughts to predict her motions. He flitted through the images and frantic hand signs firing through her mind, but they were too quick. Just like her lithe, nimble form, her thoughts were too quick, too agile. They battered about at such a velocity as to be incomprehensible. His brows furrowed with frustration. How could anyone possibly make sense of all this? How was she categorizing it?  

His shields were beginning to wane, growing thin. Sweat had begun to accrue on his brow but he focused harder, delving deeper into her thoughts and focusing on the emotion- on the physical sensation. It clicked. Suddenly the pattern became evident, the way she plotted her moves and executed them, more visceral and visual than linguistic. Where Druig thought with words and facts, Makkari thought with action, while she carried them out. She never gave herself a second to doubt to rethink. This was how she stayed ahead. She was fascinating.  

Druig smiled evilly. On a single breath, he dropped his shields. In the fraction of a second Makkari was startled, he blasted her with a quick sharp shock. Given all the metal on her body, she was zapped back a few steps, giving him a moment to run. He put the distance between them and turned, shooting ball after ball of flame toward her as he flicked through her rapid action-thoughts. She was a million places at once; he would have to be a million and one.  

He kept attempting to knock her off her feet, the second between her dodge and his throws was more than enough for her to move onto the next one, remaining ever out of his reach and quickly gaining on him. Before he could execute another plan, she was upon him, swords flashing. He tried to function in tandem with her action-thoughts, barely managing to avoid her blows. Six near-decapitations later, he’d bought enough time to come up with a solution. He watched where here blades were coming down, then grabbed them with his hands all at once.  

They bled of course, but it did not deter him. He whispered the words:  

“Calor metallum.” The blades heated beneath his hands, turning red hot as the air warped into wavy lines around the searing metal. The leather grips by which Makkari held them melted with ease, leaving her bare skin against the molten steel. She cried out in pain, instinctively dropping them.  

Druig allowed himself a mistaken moment of self-pride, a distraction that coupled with his uncoordinated feet avoiding her falling weapons to result in a tumble that spelled the end.  

Makkari was on him in an instant, a fist in his face before he could blink. Another punch, his nose was bleeding. Then another, his head ringing. She had one hand on his throat, the other reared to swing again when he realized she had stopped. He was aware of cheers from the mages he’d bested earlier as well as the entire knightly order. Makkari stared down at him fiercely, waiting for his relent.  

Druig smiled broadly in spite of it all, so big he could feel his rare-seen dimples pock his otherwise cherubic cheeks.  

“I like you.” He cooed. Makkari sat back on her heels and cracked a bewildered grin.  

You’re nuts, she signed, and she knew he got the gist. She reached out her hand cordially as she stood. Druig took it without complaint. He was bloodied, but nonetheless grinning like a fool, and it was contagious. Makkari couldn’t deny the charm and misplaced handsomeness that begot him in this state, nor the rush of serotonin she felt from finally, finally meeting an equal on the field.  

As soon as he arose, Druig reached into the bag Makkari always kept handy- no permission needed evidently- and pulled out her paper and quill. He turned her around without a second thought and scribbled something out on the back of her breastplate.  

How do you sign ‘thank you’? The paper read when it placed in her hands.  

She showed him.  

“You’re welcome.” He said with a wink.  

She punched his arm, and with that, they both knew their lives would never be the same.  

Chapter Text

They fell into a rhythm quickly.  

Druig and Makkari met for breakfast. They practiced some signs, conversed slowly via multiple means, trained against each other, ate some more, and often stayed up late conversing further.  

Druig was coming along astoundingly fast at Makkari’s sign language, to the point that even Phastos was impressed. It was evident that Druig and Makkari had a natural connection, - they shared a sense of humor, and they seemed to understand each other with ease. Their opposite traits complemented each other perfectly as well. Where Makkari was energetic and bubbly, Druig was tired and dour. Where he was cunning and cautious, she was spontaneous and reckless. They were both mischievous, irreverent, and needed constant stimulation to stave off boredom and the ensuing crimes which assuaged it.   

Two weeks had gone by in this comfortable routine when the two found themselves reveling in breakfast on their monthly day off from training. Neither of them knew how to spend it. After much complaining over a very slow and thorough meal, Druig finally suggested going into the city to get some materials he needed for his studies. Makkari was happy to take any excuse which allowed her legs to move, so she agreed whole-heartedly. Before they could leave, however, they were stopped by a certain boisterous bard- Kingo, the beloved court jester, and as usual he had a lot to say.  

“Makkari!” He yelled jovially, waving a bit too enthusiastically. “How’s my favorite murder hobbyist? Anyway, can I talk to you for a moment?” He eyed Druig with a glint of distaste, clearly insinuating the point of this sidebar was to be out of his earshot. Makkari frowned.  

Why alone? She wrote, passing him the note.  

“You’re killing me, Makkari. Okay fine, we’ll pass notes like little noble children ignoring their tutors in class.” He sat down and grabbed the paper, writing fast in his predictably elaborate and elegant script. He could do nothing without flair.  

What’s up with this freaky guy? You’re around him all the time now. Phastos told me he’s a little worried the mage has got your brain juices jumbled. I’ve heard like so many rumors, seriously, this guy is bad news. Like big time evil. Blink twice if you’re being held hostage.  

Makkari stared at him for as long as she could without blinking, mouth set in a hard line.  

“Ok, well if it’s mind control, he’s really, really good at it, but that only makes me more concerned!” He whispered loudly.  

“Druig,” Druig cut in, turning to face the transgressor fully. “And who might you be, humble bard?” Kingo’s face flashed red a little before he stood up straighter.  

“I’m Kingo. The premier entertainer in all of Domo. You’ve probably not heard much of my work yet, I mostly hang out in the throne room.” He said the last bit on a sigh, as if it were no big deal but actually a very big deal and he hoped you thought so.  

“Well I certainly wouldn’t have then. Don’t make it a habit of visiting royals.” Druig retorted. “I’m sure I’m missing out.” As per Druig’s usual tone of voice, this was clearly meant to wound, a fact which anyone with ears or eyes could tell.  

Boys, Makkari cut in via paper, showing it between the two.  

“At the risk of getting cursed, Makkari, just because I care so very much about you, I’ll say this in front of the creep. Ikaris told me he doesn’t like him, and Ikaris is a great judge of character. He’s the boss for a reason.” Kingo elaborated. Makkari found herself much more irritated than usual at Kingo’s antics. He was being just plain rude now.  

Druig scoffed. “Is he now?”  

Ikaris is dumbass then. Makkari wrote defiantly, shoving the paper at Kingo. Druig saw the words and felt a swell of pride.  

“Makkari!” Kingo gasped, scratching out the words quickly. “He is your prince and heir to the throne!” He whispered. “Don’t say that. People lose their heads over shit like this.”  

“She’s right though, now I definitely trust her judgement.” Druig replied, a smug little smirk on his lips.  

“When did you meet Ikaris?” Kingo demanded. “How would you know how smart he is?” Druig stopped mid-chew and realized his mistake. After a beat, he finished swallowing and replied.  

“We... ran into each other. Safe to say the feeling’s mutual.”  

Where did you just run into the crown prince? Makkari signed. Druig shrugged non-committally.  

“Just...around. Anyway, if he were such a genius, he wouldn’t be having a tryst with a milkmaid, now would he?” Druig mentally cursed himself. He knew this was way too much information, but he could never resist the urge rile people up. And Ikaris...well, it was safe to say Druig had never met anyone he hated more from the moment they met, so he was going to have trouble avoiding any opportunity to slander him.  

Kingo bristled. “How do you know about Sersei?” Druig’s eyes narrowed.  

“So Sersei’s her name. That’s some valuable information.”  

“Get out of my head. Or Ikaris’. I don’t know what kind of shit you think you’re pulling, but that’s espionage. You’d better watch your mouth before you end up on the executioner’s block!” Kingo hissed, his hands balled into fists.  

“I like my chances.” Druig retorted, and his eyes looked more like ice than ever.  

“Be careful, Makkari.” Kingo said earnestly. “I don’t want you to get mixed up in some kind of plot and get hurt.” With this, he stormed away, leaving Druig with the taste of copper in his mouth.  

What the hell was that about? Makkari wrote.  

“Nothing.” He replied calmly.  

It didn’t sound like nothing. She insisted, eyeing him for the first time with some concern.  

I don’t want to talk about it, Druig wrote gruffly, and promptly stood up to leave.  

“Are you still coming?”  

Makkari nodded, filing away the conversation to revisit later.  

***  

There was only one item left on Druig’s list, and not enough coin in his purse. He was going to have to bargain, something he wasn’t great at without using his magic. This thought, mixed with the conversation from earlier, had him in a cantankerous mood. Makkari seemed to have noticed the shift, and was walking a few feet away from him, absent-mindedly running her fingers along every piece of merchandise they passed.  

The herb in question was andracene, commonly used in cooking but an expensive import. Its more mystical use, for absorbing toxins, was what he was really after though. They came upon a stall selling foods and specializing in imports, clearly run by a well-monied merchant family. Druig attempted to eradicate the evidence of grumpiness from his features and put on a half-way charming demeanor as he approached the stall’s operator.  

“Good afternoon, sir. How much for this bundle of andracene?”  

“Good day. Are you with the Mage Corps?” The man asked, oozing greed. Druig cursed his unmistakable uniform mentally.  

“Yes. Now the price for these?” He asked.  

“Six gold.”  

“Six gold ?” Druig repeated incredulously. He had obviously bolstered the price upon deciding a man of Druig’s position was no doubt well-endowed. Unless Druig planned on asking Ajak for an allowance, he was not. Druig would be more inclined to starve.  

This was going to be harder than he thought.  

“Listen, sir-” Before Druig could employ the extent of his charisma, he was cut off by the shopkeeper’s shout.  

“You! Boy! I see you!” The merchant ran around the stall and caught a young boy by the collar before he could flee in terror. The child was young, maybe seven, filthy, and in his hand was a common apple. A single, common, half-copper apple.  

“Teach you to steal from me!” The man shook the child before rearing back and walloping him over the head. Druig saw red.  

“Unhand that child immediately.” He seethed.  

“Excuse me? You misunderstand sir. This is not the first time I’ve seen this urchin thieving from me. I’ll have the little mutt arrested this time. I apologize for this most unpleasant encounter, but I’ll have this business concluded in a moment and we may continue our exchange.” The shopkeeper sickeningly nonchalant, setting Druig’s teeth on edge.  

“It’s a child. Robbing you of half-copper's worth of soon going-off apples. He’s probably starving. Let him go.” Druig seethed, feeling his temper raise exponentially.  

“Is it my concern if he’s starving? It’s his drunk good-for-nothing alley-sleeping father’s fault he can’t eat, not mine. What we have here is a crime, and I shall treat it as such, as is well within my rights!” The shopkeep snarled, tightening his grip on the boy.  

The child had begun to cry, desperately fighting to wrench himself from the elder man’s hands. He’d dropped the apple as well, wanting nothing more than to escape now. Druig felt the child’s terror begin to creep into his own mind, as it often did when he lost control. He was so hungry it hurt, limbs tired from poor sleep and too little nutrition. He cried out for help and for forgiveness, out loud or in his thoughts Druig was unsure. Unable to contain the rage that swelled within and made his ears thrum, Druig found himself seizing the wrist of the merchant that was wrapped around the child. He grabbed his collar with the other slammed him back against the stall.  

“Let him go now, or I will make you, and it will hurt.” He growled, eyes glowing yellow.  

“Why I-! Carl! Help!” The merchant shouted and a burly man who had been tending work inside the house behind the stall stepped out from the stoop. In his all-encompassing anger, Druig did not see the man approach from the side until it was too late.  

A fist slammed into the side of his face, sending him sprawling across the ground, blood spattering the ground from his lips. It was not as fun as when Makkari had done it. Another fist connected with his eye, smashing his skull back into the ground. Winded, Druig’s eyes searched for his original target. The merchant was gleefully dragging the child kicking and screaming away.  

“No,” He hissed, and the merchant froze mid-step. His grip on the child dropped entirely in an instant, and the boy fled like his life depended on it without another glance in their direction.  

Again he was assaulted, this time being hefted into the air before the fist found his temple and a merciless kick to the stomach had him gasping for air. He knew he should stop the man attacking him, but it was taking all of his rattled mind’s energy to keep the merchant from running after the child and in a loop of his fears. Druig’s vision was swirling, but punishing the asshole responsible was all he could think of. It was all he could think of.  

The flash of movement caught Makkari’s attention. One moment, she’d been casually perusing a local potter’s wares, the next she’d turned her eyes to see Druig on the losing end of an all-out brawl. She sped towards him and caught the assailant’s hand mid-strike.  

Bringing her knee up to his face, she smashed his nose without a hint of hesitation. Blood gushed from the wound, and the man stepped back, alarmed. She quickly unsheathed one sword and pointed to the Order of Domo insignia inscribed on her chest emphatically. The man looked feral, suddenly not-so-loyal to the man paying for his services. Not when it landed him on the other side of the law, the royal guard at that. He booked it out of the area before he could taste her steel, a fact which irked her.  

Makkari turned her vision to Druig, startled to see that his eyes were that unnatural gold once again. She followed his gaze and realized why he’d found himself beaten half to death by a mere hired muscle. He was still doing something to someone else, someone who had apparently incurred his wrath in a way she had not yet before seen.  

The merchant was frozen in place but shaking as if hypothermic. Choked gasps were escaping from his mouth as his face was twisted in abject horror.  

Druig! She wanted to scream, and realized with disappointment they had not yet assigned him a sign name, which was officially inconvenient. She shook him instead, trying to force him to look at her.  

Stop! She signed desperately, looking at his bloodied body. He needed to get help. Finally, she hauled off and slapped him across the face. His eyes faded back to their usual misty ocean blue, and the hostage fell to his knees before fleeing, wailing all the way.  

Druig had forgotten Makkari was here. Face stinging and a little ashamed, he admitted:  

“Why is it that when you hit me, it’s all in good fun, but when other people do it, it just makes me want to traumatize them?”  

She briefly considered hitting him again.  

Instead, she breathed out in a big huff and let him down gently.  

What the hell happened? She signed.  

“There was...” he hissed in pain and clutched at a likely broken rib. “A boy...cockface tried to beat him...over an apple. A fucking apple.” He sighed heavily. “So I ruined his day.” Druig closed his eyes and breathed shallowly, and Makkari felt a pinch of concern. He was in pain, all because of a starving child. They were wrong about him. Everyone was wrong about him. She took out her paper and scrawled swiftly.  

We’re not supposed to interfere in squabbles of the common folk. That’s for the town guards to do.  

Druig simmered. “ I’m common folk,” He hissed in response, slowly pulling himself up. Makkari was struck.  

Wait, you are? She signed. You carry yourself with more arrogance than any nobleman I’ve ever met. I never would have guessed. She added in writing.  

“Yeah well,” Druig remarked dryly, “The curse of owning the whole of your hamlet’s mental capacity.” She chuckled despite herself.  

At least you’re humble, she wrote. Druig managed a meager smile.  

“What about you then? Were your family knights or just prissy nobles?” He asked.  

Makkari’s features shifted into something unreadable.  

I don’t want to talk about it, she wrote, echoing himself from earlier. He nodded.  

“Well...anyway, thanks for saving my ass.”  

Don’t make it a habit. She wrote, then propped him up on her shoulder to begin their arduous trek back to the castle.  

“Guess I’m not getting my andracene.” He said, signing out the words in tandem.  

Makkari eyed him. Quietly, she pulled him aside and out of view of the main street. She shifted her chest plate aside slightly to reveal a bundle of the pricey herb tucked beneath.  

“When the hell,” Druig breathed, eyes glinting with admiration.  

When you were first talking. I knew you wouldn’t be able to bargain. She signed, mischievous grin on her face.  

“A warrior and a sneak-thief!” He remarked, shaking his head. “Magnificent Makkari, you are full of surprises.”  

She lifted her chin in a playful show of pride. That made two of them.  

Chapter Text

The reckoning came as soon as they returned to the castle.  

As soon as they had limped into the courtyard, Thena seized Druig without an ounce of the gentleness Makkari had dragged him there with.  

“Come along, Makkari.” She said with a stern glare at her underling. “You’re both wanted in the throne room. I’m having a very unpleasant day because of you.” Makkari looked penitent, face warming red and shoulders slumping as if to say, ‘yes ma’am.’  

Thena proceeded to haul Druig groaning in pain through the castle with Makkari (dragging her feet, by the sound of her clanking sabatons) close behind. When they reached the massive ornate doors of the throne room, Thena paused, taking a sharp breath.  

“This’ll be a record time execution, right? At least I’ll be remembered for something.” Druig managed, and Makkari shot him a glare that made him flinch harder than the sight of his father’s fist headed straight for his face. “Alright, tough crowd.”  

Thena pushed the door open and he stumbled through, pain radiating from multiple locations. It radiated from his ribs in waves, pulsed in parts of his face while others were simply numb. He was pretty sure, based on his lack of depth perception, that he’d momentarily lost vision in one eye, most likely due to swelling. When he was left to take two steps in by himself and fell flat on his face, he stayed down.  

“You rang, your highness?” He mumbled from the floor, and Makkari covered her face in embarrassment before helping him up.  

“Someone get him a chair at the front so I can heal him,” Ajak’s booming voice commanded. Druig could see in her pursed lips and slitted eyes that she was livid. To her left, at a slightly smaller throne, was Ikaris, looking smug and unsurprised. To her right, to his surprise, was a friendly face.  

“Gil,” Druig said, as the chair was being fetched. “How’s it going?”  

Gilgamesh looked tired, clearly he’d been woken for this.  

“Oh, Druig, it’s you!” He chuckled nervously, seeing the glares from those around him. “We uh, met in the kitchen. Kids got an appetite. Anyway, the town guard alerted me to this issue after it was brought to the queen. I sure hope this a really good explanation,” Gilgamesh added, his normal cheery tone a little marked by evident concern.  

At last the chair was brought and Druig lowered into it. At the bottom of the small staircase that elevated to the thrones stood Andgeir, who did not remove his eyes from Druig.  

“Your Highness, you should not approach him. We do not know that it is safe. We can bring in one of the regular healers, or heal him after we’ve heard his case. Granted it’s still desirable.” Andgeir suggested.  

“All due respect, I don’t think he’s much threat in his current state.” Thena countered. Andgeir glared at her contradiction, and she stared right back with a hint of cockiness. Druig gathered the rivalry between the two heads of their respective military departments was a pre-existing condition.  

“Nonsense, Andgeir.” Ajak rebuked, “I’m right here and the boy is injured.”  

“It’s really not necessary,” Druig found himself saying. “I can wait for a normal healer after this, Your Highness. ” He hissed the last bit, unable to restrain his disdain. He wanted her hands nowhere on him, nor her sympathy, or undue favoritism, nor the magic in her veins that had made him what he was.  

“Leave it to an arrogant commoner to refuse the compassion of his queen to aid him after a crisis of his own making.” Ikaris provoked. A chord was strummed in concordance, and for the first time Druig noticed Kingo standing beside the prince. Ikaris gestured for Kingo to stand down.  

“Ikaris,” Ajak warned. “This man is a citizen of Domo and a powerful member of the Mage Corps. We will treat him accordingly.” With this, she bent down and reached for Druig’s face, which he instinctively ducked away from.  

“Don’t squirm.” She chastised, sounding more like a village mother than ever. “It’ll hurt worse.” With this, she flicked her wrist expertly and he felt his rib snap into place, winding him with a groan. He cursed under his breath. “Sorry, there’s no way around that bit.” Ajak said earnestly, then reached for his face again. This time, albeit rigid and deeply uncomfortable, he let her tenderly take it in her palm.  

Ajak gently ran her hands over the injuries, swelling receding and bruising vanishing with ease. His lips sewed themselves back together leaving nothing but dried blood to show for his previous injuries.  

“Is that better?” She asked knowingly, and Druig nodded, avoiding her eyes. “Good then, you may stand. Knight, I want your impartial report immediately.” She turned to Makkari, who looked caught off-guard. Makkari blinked for a moment before snapping back into action, scrambling for her quill and parchment. Druig stopped her hands.  

“Call her brother.” He said calmly. “Phastos.” The queen and several others in the room simply stared at him a moment, and realized no one knew. “Call for her brother. She can’t speak. She needs an interpreter; she deserves a fair chance to plead her case.” He elaborated.  

“Thena?” Ajak turned to the captain. “Could you interpret for her?” Thena looked a smidge bashful.  

“We don’t usually have particularly complex conversations. I point at things and she hits them. I do believe it would be worth hearing the story from her brother.” Thena concluded.  

“Very well,” The queen relented. “Someone fetch Phastos Tilborn, the scholar.”  

They all stood in silence for about seven painfully long minutes before Phastos thankfully came barreling into the throne room out of breath.  

“Your Highness!” He exclaimed. “I am so sorry! What trouble has my dear sister gotten herself into? How may I help you this fine day?” He wore a nervous faltering grin and paused to wipe the sweat from his brow. He anxiously looked around the room for a moment as if he expected to see someone else there, and upon realizing their absence was visibly relieved.  

“It appears there was a scuffle in town between this mage and some citizens. According to reports from the town guard and citizens who complained, Lady Tilborn intervened and employed her status in the Order to extricate him from this conflict.” Ajak explained. “As you know, if this was unfounded it would be very bad for her position in the royal guard, which requires her to be a positive example fostering safety and respect throughout the kingdom.”  

“It’s not her fault, she just protected me.” Druig defended, feeling a sudden twist of fear at the thought of his only friend being punished for his actions.  

Ajak raised her hand to cut him off and shot him a sharp look. “We will hear from the knight herself.” Druig clenched his jaw tightly but managed to obey.  

Makkari got down on one knee and bowed her head to greet the queen.  

Makkari, your Highness, she signed. Phastos translated. She proceeded to recount the incident, sans the andracene still hidden under her armor, which Phastos explained faithfully.  

He interceded on behalf of an innocent child. He was going to use the last of his funds to pay off the theft before the man became violent with the boy,  she signed, Phastos parroting after. She proceeded to sign something rather long with swift emphatic movements that Druig could not translate. Phastos was silent.  

“What did she say?” Ajak asked. Phastos opened his mouth then closed it again, worrying his bottom him on his teeth. “Phastos Tilborn, you are here on Makkari’s behalf to interpret. Please refrain from censoring, lest this entire testimony be brought into question.”  

“She said...” Phastos sighed, adjusting his spectacles before continuing. “She said Druig has an impeccable sense of justice, and she does not believe he should be punished for that.” He swallowed thickly.  

Makkari definitely had not used the word ‘impeccable’, but rather remembered there being more expletives in her initial phrasing. Nonetheless, she was glad that Phastos had relayed the message, and his more careful wording seemed to have worked. Ajak nodded, seeming relieved.  

“Is that how you remember it, Druig?” She asked. Druig clasped his hands in front him, features hard.  

“Yes, your Highness.”  

“Thank you both. For your lapse in temper, mage, I believe some punishment is in order. Cleaning duty for the training grounds ought to do it.” Ajak ordered. Andgeir looked reviled at the lack of banishment. “In the future, I expect you to call the local guards in such a situation as it is their duty to handle such matters.” Druig bristled.  

“The same local guard who apparently witnessed the whole affair but tattled on me rather than interceding?” Druig retorted. Ajak stood up straighter.  

“You make a good point. Gilgamesh, I trust you will find a befitting punishment for your city guard’s indiscretion?”  

Gil’s face hardened.  

“You may consider this his firing, my queen. I don’t keep rats in my kitchen.”  

Thena could not repress a grin at the man’s powerful display. Gilgamesh excused himself and winked at her on his way out. She would see him later.  

“Adjourned.” Ajak concluded, and everyone was shuffled out of the throne room.  

Druig walked briskly beside Makkari until they were alone once more.  

How did you know that? He signed.  

What? She signed back.  

“That I was going to pay for the food.” He said plainly.  

Makkari shrugged, signing slowly for him to understand. Something happened. I can’t explain it, but I felt it. I knew what you wanted. I could feel...you, somehow.  

Druig’s mouth opened in a small ‘o’ of surprise.  

“I must have...projected it onto you. But how could you have received it when I wasn’t intentionally using my powers and you don’t know any Cerebremency?” He inquired, perplexed.  

I don’t know. I was worried, so I guess I was listening. Maybe our minds are just in sync, Makkari signed, her bright smile shining on her face once again. Druig’s brows furrowed and he knew this mystery would eat him alive until solved.  

“Thank you.” He said earnestly.  

What are friends for? Makkari signed, and Druig felt a pleasant warmth spread through him. He knew he was lucky to be counted among this woman’s friends. It was blessing he’d done nothing to deserve.  

They walked arm and arm until they reached his room, a common meeting place for their leisure time as the barracks Makkari called home were too busy and distracting.  

Oh right, are you coming to the ball next week? Makkari signed suddenly.  

“The what? ”  

Chapter Text

Druig ran a hand through his hair.  

“I didn’t think this day would come so soon. It’s been great knowing you, Makkari. I have to retire to my grave now.” 

She rolled her eyes exaggeratedly and pushed through him into his room. 

What, little baby is scared to put on a nice outfit? Poor baby Druig has two left feet? So he’s gonna pretend he’s too cool for parties or any event that might hazard a smile? She signed, making highly exaggerated mocking facial gestures to follow. Druig narrowed his eyes and clucked his tongue, suppressing a smile. She knew exactly what she was doing, activating his contrarian instincts. What she did not know, however, was how badly that competitive impulse and her mocking made him want to push her up against a wall and kiss her stupid mouth. 

“Leave me, brat. Your reverse psychology won’t work on me.” 

She raised her eyebrows and stepped closer, hands as comfortable on her hips as the smirk was on her challenging mouth. His eye gave a twitch and she knew that she’d won. 

“Ugh, why do you even want me there? I’ll just stand in the corner and be grumpy!” He said while signing aggressively. She took his hands and then pressed one of hers to his cheek gently, looking up at him with a knowing gaze. 

Do you really hate rich people and fun more than you like me? We could get up to so much mischief! She signed, mock-pouting. Still reeling from the distinctly intimate and pleasant feeling of her hand on his face, Druig was mostly successful at erasing the evidence of this emotion. Instead, he let out a heavy groaning sigh.  

I do like mischief, he signed honestly.  

So what’s the hang up? She asked. Druig pondered for a moment, ultimately deciding to give her the truth. 

“I don’t know how to dance. We didn’t have these kinds of things back home, and if we did, I wasn’t welcome.” 

That’s all?? She signed. I can teach you!  

In a week? He signed back incredulously.  

You’re a quick study, so I’ve seen. She replied, smile giving him more confidence than he believed was likely accurate. 

If you’re sure.. .he signed, and her grin was beaming. She squeezed his shoulders and jumped with excitement, causing his own smile to bloom naturally, a sight that squeezed at Makkari’s already ecstatic heart.  

His sky-blue eyes were downcast and bashful, dimples punctuating the ends of his upturned lips. This was when Druig was most beautiful , she thought, these rare moments of joy when his mask of (admittedly amusing, one might even say sexy) signature cockiness slipped for a moment. Makkari mentally reminded herself that she should probably stop referring to her friend as attractive lest she get confused. Afterall, she’d made her peace long ago that she wouldn’t marry, which was fine with her career, and she wouldn’t want to ruin this.  

Druig had changed her life in the short two weeks since they’d met. He was the funniest person she’d ever met, deeply altruistic behind his calculated persona where most were pleasant for gain. He was also curious, ambitious, hungry, and most importantly, he needed no guidance to accepting or accommodating her. He simply saw her real personality, asked questions, and followed instructions. What’s more, he expected and implored others to do so where she had long given up and accepted a constant modicum of frustration. Yes, he had changed her life and now, she was determined to change his. No more sullen, broody days and withdrawing suddenly for extended bouts of dolorous silence. 

First things first. Makkari signed abruptly, making her way toward his basin. Druig flushed a little, realizing her intention. 

“I’m fine,” he signed and said. She gave him a look. He sighed flopped onto his bed, knowing he couldn’t wrestle her away if he tried.  

She brought the basin closer and perched on the edge of his bed with a small towel. Dipping it in the water gingerly, she reached out for his face. He flushed and pulled away, attempting to snatch the rag from her hands. 

“I can do it myself.” 

She smacked his hand without mercy and he recoiled with a huff. “Fine.” 

Makkari leaned forward and pressed the towel first to lips, where the dried blood from the morning’s rumble had settled. As it tugged against his bottom lip and she moved ever closer to get a good look, Druig had to hold his breath. He never let people this close, but the tension in his shoulders subsided quickly. She set to work rubbing the rest of the blood from his face and he felt a tremble move down his spine. She was beautiful. She was dangerously close. And she was taking care of him. It was taking all – every last ounce - of his restraint not to close the distance between her soft luscious lips and his own. No, they were friends. He couldn’t soil that simply because he couldn’t resist the urge to throw himself at the first person to show him decency. 

All at once, she sat back and signaled that the work was done. He could breathe again. He missed the warmth of her breath on his neck. She was unfazed. He hated it. 

Alright then! She signed pushing up her sleeves. Move that chair to make some space, we’re starting with the Sowmaiden’s Step.   

She immediately began tossing off bits of her armor, so as to be less clanky and constricted. 

“Whoa there, these aren’t those kind of dance lessons, are they?” Druig asked, throwing his hands up as if in surrender. She chucked a pauldron at him and he chuckled.  

When she was sufficiently mobile, she stepped toward him and held her hand out cordially. 

“My gods, you’re tiny!” Druig mumbled, surveying her petite true form for the first time. 

Am not! She signed stalwartly.  

He put his hands on her hips and chuckled, smiling fondly.  

“Don’t be cross. It doesn’t make me any less afraid of you.”  

She gave him yet another exaggerated eyeroll, causing her to worry that if he kept up his nonsense, she’d soon find them stuck. She took hold of his arms and repositioned this appropriately. 

This diddy is called the Sowmaiden’s Step, and it goes a little something like this! She signed. 

*** 

Druig was, in fact, a terrible dancer. To be fair to him though, they were cackling the night away hardly focused on the steps. The two derived much greater joy from riling and jibing the other, but nonetheless he began to memorize the steps.  

So it became routine.  

The next night, after several hours of what could loosely be called practice, Druig collapsed on his bed beside a lounging Makkari and asked a question he’d been wondering for a while.  

How did you end up becoming a knight? He signed. Why did you choose this?  

She pursed her lips, thinking for a moment, then shrugged. No one needs to understand me in battle. No effort toward communication was needed. I just cut their heads off. Simple! She signed, kicking her feet and smiling as if it were the most innocent thing in the world to say. 

That’s terrifying. And adorable. Sounds like a solid career choice. Druig breezily replied. 

Aren’t I philosophical? Perhaps I could make a good scholar yet. She signed teasingly. 

“No, no I don’t think so. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” He retorted playfully, earning a good whack from his compatriot. She giggled nonetheless. 

*** 

On the third day, Makkari finally suggested a name-sign for Druig. It looked like the light that shines from his eyes when he employs his trademark Cerebremency. Druig rolled his eyes but accepted, secretly touched to have a word just for him in her language. Her word. It felt intimate. 

*** 

It was the evening before the ball when everything changed. 

Their friendship and closeness had steadily grown, no one could deny. They had fun, they sparred each other half to death, and they occasionally flirtily threatened one another. But they hadn’t spoken about their pasts. There were shadows cast on both of them, shrouding the corners of their lives they gladly hid from one another. But on that night, Makkari was finally faced with teaching him the Maidensong, and it appeared the physical proximity of the dance forced them perilously close in more ways than one. 

“What are we learning today, dance master Makkari?” Druig asked, hands behind his back in his usual posture of self-assured ease. 

The Maidensong, she signed. It’s...for lovers. Feeling too exposed somehow, she quickly added, just in case you ever need to know it.  

“Oh,” Was his reply. Hesitantly, she closed the distance between him and placed one of his hands on the small of her back. She took the other in her right hand firmly, placing her left on his bicep. He was stronger than he looked, she realized.  

Makkari led him through the steps, taking them in a small circle. They entwined their arms as they cross-stepped, he twirled her and brought her back in. She turned to face him, praying the low candlelight in his room concealed her blush as she explained the final step. Widely considered the most difficult move and rarely pulled off smoothly, it looked magically graceful and effortless when done well.  

Druig paused for a moment, as if unsure whether he were truly allowed to handle her this way. But he was persistent as always, and he’d promised her he’d learn the dances. Gathering all his courage and resolution, he pulled her hips against his and guided her back as it arced marvelously in a semicircle, arms outstretched as if to fly. To Makkari’s shock, where the other dances had been clumsy and halting, Druig’s Maidensong dip felt as natural as breathing. 

When she drew herself back up and took his hands, leading him in the final bow, she was glad for the excuse not to look him in the eyes. Peeking up, he looked positively peaceful while her heart was racing unlike ever before. They stepped apart and she regathered her composure.  

Well, that’s probably good for tonight . She signed when he met her gaze again. A rudimentary run-though.  

“Not expecting me to get a date any time soon?” He asked while signing. 

Not with your winning personality, she signed back, nudging him on the arm. This drew out one of his easy grins, and he made his way to the bowl of stashed fruits she’d stolen for him. He plopped a grape in his mouth before tossing a couple her way and then strung himself across his bed lazily.  

Makkari sat beside him, but the tension still seemed to hang in the air. For a moment they were silent, until Druig uncharacteristically broke the spell. 

“What does music sound like to you?” He asked suddenly.  

She was at a loss for words. 

Makkari began to sign, starting, and stopping, and ultimately wringing her hands. 

I don’t know how to describe it. It’s...vibration, but not just the beat. I can feel the changes...the pitches- I can’t explain it, she tried, signing with difficulty. She looked up at him suddenly and signed, come in.  

What?  

She pointed to her head. Come inside. Let me show you.  

Druig faltered. Are you sure? You don’t know how to keep me out. I could see anything.  

She nodded resolutely. I don’t care to hide anything from you anymore. I want you to see me. I want someone to understand, she signed, jaw tightening a bit when she realized how much she’d said. Druig still looked uneasy. 

Okay. If you want me to stop, just tap on my shoulder.  

Tenderly, he reached forth and pulled her forehead up to his. He held her face there for a moment gently resting in his trembling hands.  

“If I do this,” He warned, giving her one last out, “our minds could become inextricably linked. We might not ever be able to fully block each other again.” Makkari looked him hard in the eyes. 

Then you will be the one person who always knows what I’m thinking. That’s what friends do isn’t it? Protect you from loneliness?  

Feeling honored, Druig set his jaw and closed his eyes, focusing in. Just the answer to his question. Just her memories of music. His eyes glowed gold, and he saw. 

He felt the music pulse in his bones, bouncing off the castle walls and vibrating ever so gently on his skin. Her skin . He realized he was of course seeing the world from her eyes. The memories of the songs intercut with the dances she’d taught him, and it felt unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. He knew what these songs sounded like, but now he was feeling them.  

Her memories and thoughts began to shift, unable to stay anywhere long as was her nature. Quickly they were rattling through and taking off in unexpected directions like they often did when they fought in training. He scrambled to keep up, let alone navigate her mind with purpose. He tried to redirect himself, or perhaps her, but he lost control. 

All at once, her life, her thoughts, her soul- 

Came crashing down on him like a tidal wave. 

It was overwhelming. Terrifying. It was- 

“ Beautiful, ” he said aloud before he could stop himself. “It’s beautiful.” 

Her signs, her brother, playing games as a child. The first time she held a sword, looking up to Thena, her parents disapproving stares. The world on mute: people chattering with their lips concealed, turning their heads away and moving freely and the Makkari’s frustration at catching only fractions of their conversations, unable to participate. She was playful, kind, loyal. All this Druig already knew. There was anger and sadness here too, living just beneath the surface...but even so, she’d never killed wantonly or in anger. She was a protector, a survivor, a guardian.  

She was good.  

She was painfully, clearly, unmistakably and reliably good, moral, principled.  

Druig pulled away, yanking himself out of her precious mind and realizing at once that he was in tears. He’d seen the deepest parts of her, right down to her core, and there wasn’t an ounce of cynicism or cruelty within her. He’d been wrong. He didn’t even deserve to be her friend, let alone anything more. He hadn’t really believed humans could be so truly virtuous without motive, and that just made it all the worse. It made him all the worse. And now he knew she would never understand or forgive the things he’d done. Now he knew why they had called him a monster. He was so disgusting it made him sick. 

“I can’t,” he said, abruptly crossing the room. Makkari, fast as ever, had his shoulder before he could open the door.  

Don’t leave, she signed. Did I do something wrong?  

He collapsed, sobbing into his hands on her floor.  

“No,” he moaned, “you’re perfect. I never should have- I shouldn’t have-” 

Makkari slowly wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him close. After a moment, she pulled back and wiped some of his tears with a gentleness that tore him apart.  

Why are you so upset? I can feel you, Druig. Why are you so scared and...guilty? She signed, searching him. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he gasped, suddenly straightening and closing his eyes tight. “My mental barriers. I wasn’t paying attention to them.” When he opened his eyes, Makkari felt distinctly alone and cut off from him. The severance hurt somehow, like even though they’d never been connected before this night, his departure felt like a lost limb. 

No, don’t shut me out, she plead, eyes watering. Let me in.  

“Makkari,” he said, finally beginning to sober and compose himself, “you have no idea what you’re asking. If you see who I am then I lose you forever. You’re going to look at me like everyone else does.” 

She shook her head calmly, squeezing his arms tight before signing: 

You’re my best friend, and I don’t need fancy magic to know that you’re a good person. I’ve seen it. I’m not scared. Let me in, please?  

Druig stared at her, shoulders sagging. He could feel the fight leaving him. She was unnaturally forgiving, he’d witnessed it himself. But did he deserve it? 

Druig, show me.  

He did. 

Chapter Text

The next morning, Druig was surprised to find that he’d slept. Granted, it wasn’t much. 

He’d given her too much last night. It was too much for one person to handle all at once, and he was terrified of how it would all look in the daylight. She’d cried so hard and for so long and he’d just waited for her to pull away in fear. To take off running. To tell him never to speak to her again. Instead, she’d just cried, and he wasn’t sure what that meant.  

Makkari had reached out to him in a moment of anguish following the weight of his feelings and memories, but he feared it was only out of necessity after being so overwhelmed, like a child with cruel parents reaching out despite their vitriol because they had no one else to ask for comfort.  

Eventually, she’d gotten up and gone back to her own quarters. She’d had all night to mull it over and realize what she’d seen. What he’d done. Was she also laying in bed, right now, too terrified of his face to climb out of the covers?  

Druig laid still, feeling it all come crashing down, suffocating him once again. Maybe there was no point in getting out of bed today. There was no chance they were going back to who they were the night before, no chance of a light-hearted evening of festivities as planned. Maybe there was no point to anything. Maybe he should just- 

A knock at the door yanked him from his spiral. He reached out with his mind to see who it was, fully prepared to give one hell of a “fuck off” speech to this earlier morning crisis intruder. But what he felt shocked him. Throwing on a tunic, he was across the room with the door flung open in a heartbeat.  

“Makkari?” He breathed. His whole body was shaking, but he wasn’t sure how to stop it. She stood before him smiling brightly as ever, waving and evidently giddy. 

Phastos is going to do my hair. It takes hours and it’s so boring because we can’t even talk during because his hands are busy. Do you want to come keep me company? She signed excitedly. 

Druig’s was slack-jawed. He stared at her for a long moment before signing back. 

You still want me to be your friend?  

Makkari’s face fell instantly, and he was slammed with regret. Glancing side to side at the busy hallway around her, she stepped silently into his room and closed the door behind her so they could be in private. Gently, she took his hands and kissed the knuckles before looking up at him seriously. 

We don’t have to talk about what happened last night today, she signed. His clouded eyes fell to the floor. 

“I never should have shown you all that once. I’m sorry if it overwhelmed you or you need time to process it- or if you just want to pretend you never saw any of it and never speak of it again. I-”  

Makkari cut him off, forcing him to look into her worried eyes.  

Druig, she signed, that’s not why I suggested we table that discussion. We definitely need to talk about it...I have so much to say- but I only wanted to preserve the good mood of today. I just didn’t want to ruin your night by dredging up your past. I wanted us to enjoy tonight like we planned. Druig was once again speechless for a beat too long. 

“How are you not afraid of me? Makkari, I’m afraid of me. How can you still want to be around me? You know what I did.” He whispered, signing furiously. Makkari’s face hardened as she took placed a hand on his cheek and thought so loudly the words came straight into his own mind. 

It may not have been right, but I know they deserved it.  

Druig felt his eyes grow wet. He threw his arms around her and squeezed with all of his might.  

So, what do you say? She signed. We have a nice long talk about it tomorrow? Druig nodded, feeling too many things at once. His chest constricted painfully, but his heart thrummed with elation. Suddenly, the playful look had returned to Makkari’s eyes. She dashed over to his wardrobe. Show me what you’re wearing, she signed, opening it already.  

Druig lunged for the wardrobe and slammed it shut before she could peek.  

“It’s a surprise, my impatient Makkari.” He replied, feeling an ounce of joy return to him. She rolled her eyes.  

Fine. Come on, Phastos is waiting. 

*** 

It ended up taking at least four hours. The trio had obtained a hearty breakfast and left the feast hall with armfuls of snacks for the endeavor, which Druig naturally consumed most of. It was light and sweet, watching Phastos and Makkari bicker as he adorned her hair into glamourous twists with gilded gold bands peppered throughout.  

At one point, Phastos’ hands had gone still for a solid five minutes. Noticing, Makkari had attempted to wave for his attention, but his gaze was averted and heavily glazed over, mouthing something like equations or ingredients. Irked, she turned to Druig and asked him to jolt Phastos from his gadget-horny daydreams. Druig laughed at her colorful language as always. 

“Phastos, mate, I think you’ve forgotten something.” He implored. Phastos snapped to attention, blinking quickly. 

“Huh?” 

“The hair. You stopped a good while ago.” 

Phastos looked at his hands and face palmed. 

“Aw, did I? Shit. Sorry it’s just this damn water mill,” He gushed, looking frustrated. “They’ve got me trying to make one for that spot over in the Gwenandine River. The water flow is too hard so the wood keeps rotting and falling apart. I’ve tried so many iterations. I don’t know what else we can make it out of...” 

Druig popped a slice of orange into his mouth thoughtfully. 

“Have you tried spelling them with water resistance?” He asked. Phastos stopped cold. 

“What do you mean?” 

“The spell. Makes things waterproof. We mages use it all the time, keeps our robes so damn pristine. The enchant can last up to 10 years with a good mage. Then you’d just have to get someone by to redo it every now and then.”  

Phastos’s face cycled through shock, intrigue, admiration and distaste in a seconds. 

“And if I had you spell it for me?” He asked finally. 

Druig smirked. “I could make it last 20. Throw in a floodgate and some irrigation canals redirecting water flow to the farmlands East of there, you might be looking at 50 years and brownie points with some frequently rebellious peasants.” 

Phastos pursed his lips slowly. It was a good idea. It was too good. He pondered the ramifications of teaming up with Druig, not the least of which was the smug looks he’d have to endure. Druig stood, came near, and reached out his hand, blinking slowly. Phastos paused a moment longer, seemingly considering this deal with the devil. 

They shook. 

“Good, now finish putting the twirlies in your sister’s hair so she can knock everyone dead tonight.” Phastos smiled a little at this and went back to work at last.  

Druig caught Makkari up on the conversation and they continued to chat amicably until at last the work was finished.  

She was gorgeous. Druig’s breath hitched in his throat at the final reveal that felt somehow akin to meeting a goddess in person. He’d never fancied himself religious, but he could see himself worshipping at her temple. He whistled. 

“Stunning,” He mused, trying to keep his flirty composure.  

Phastos showed her a mirror and Makkari waved her hands wildly in excitement. She thanked her brother profusely and then turned her beaming toothy grin at Druig.  

Pretty? She signed. His head hurt. 

“Pretty,” He managed, and he didn’t miss the eyebrow Phastos raised at him behind her back. 

“Well I don’t know about you brats, but I need go get myself looking right for tonight. So enjoy your afternoon, Phastos has a date with a very smelly face mask assigned to him by an overzealous alchemist who swears it’ll leave him glowing. Ta-ta, murder babies.” With that, Phastos made his leave, and Druig and Makkari bid their farewells soon after. 

*** 

Druig continued to fuss with his hair. The sun had gone down, he had donned his floor-length black robes. They were adorned with red line patterns throughout and fitted to him quite nicely. It was more than he enjoyed spending on clothes or much of anything generally, but once he’d seen how excited about the festivities Makkari was, he knew he’d have to apply some effort to not look like a local pig farmer wandered in from the cold beside her. If her hair from that morning was anything to go on, the money was not well-spent and there was no hope. Nevertheless, he’d spelled them with the same waterproof enchantment he’d told Phastos about to ensure they lasted many a decadent drunken night in the castle as there were sure to be plenty where this came from. 

Sighing, he mentally prepared for all the people, the din, the drama and pleasantries. His mind wandered back to Makkari, all dressed up and dancing with him under the soft lights. He was out the door. 

*** 

His first encounter of the night was before he even made it to the hall. 

“You’re awfully dressed up,” Came a haughty voice from behind him. 

Druig eyed their eclectic getup, a mix of princely trousers and an effeminate sweetheart neckline tunic. As usual, they were fashionable and obnoxious at once. Sprite was something like an apprentice to the Mage Corps, or perhaps a mascot. They were too young to join, but had somehow been adopted by the court and showed great magical promise. They were also a grade-A insufferable brat who wanted to be Druig, or beat Druig, or kill Druig on any given day, often all at once. 

“Same to you, Sprite. Don’t you have rudimentary lighting spells to be practicing, or isn’t past your bedtime?” 

Sprite crossed their arms and glared spitefully. “I mastered Lumocells ages ago, and I don’t have a bedtime.” 

“Only because you don’t have parents. Run along munchkin.” 

Sprite stomped away without another word, leaving Druig rather pleased with himself. He saw them make a beeline for Kingo, who was already well in his cups and swept them off their feet in a hug. Sprite was evidently not pleased by the string of profanities that followed.  

Druig turned his attention elsewhere, striding into the room and scanning it for the only person he hoped to glimpse. It appeared Makkari had not arrived yet, and his heart sunk just a little. Feeling a frown sink onto his face, he naturally made his way to the nearest poorly lit corner and leaned against a pillar, waiting. 

Several minutes went by before she swept into the room on a cloud of vibrant, luscious red. Every head in the room turned as she entered, caught his eye as if on instinct, and headed straight for him.  

Her smile spread as if in slow motion, fabric swaying softly around her form as she glided towards him. She was gorgeous, ethereal, awe-inspiring. Suddenly, Druig understood what all those ballads and poems on courtly love were about. It hit him with a devastating blast, the need to hold someone near, to taste one’s lips, to give everything to someone even if meant getting nothing at all in return. Makkari was a vision; she was a future he didn’t know he had until that very moment. All the pining in the world wouldn’t sate him, but he knew he’d follow her to the ends of the earth and live long, if only for her sake. If only to be by her side. 

Druig, she signed gleefully. Makkari gestured to herself and did a little twirl, sending the dress billowing around her legs gloriously. What do you think? I clean up nice for a knight.  

Gods, GODS she’s cute, Druig thought, desperately trying to remember any words.  

“Beautiful Makkari,” He managed, forcing on an air of egotism. “You’ve outdone yourself m’lady. Not only a terror in armor, but truly a slayer in frock as well.” 

You’re not so bad yourself, big guy. Is that a new robe I see? It must be because my Druig is never caught dead in something better than raggedy linens. Makkari signed, daring grin on her mouth. Druig wanted to say something snappy back, but he was distracted by a single red ribbon twined into one of the twists at the front of her hair. He reached for it instinctively and mumbled something profound like, 

“Ribbon. New.” 

Makkari giggled. I added it later. I like red. This time it was Druig chuckling good-natruredly. 

“I never would have guessed,” He said, eyeing the sea of said color she’d manage to drown in head-to-toe. She smelled like cinnamon, coconut, clove and orange. He couldn’t help thinking she must have bathed in it as part of her preparations for the night. It was a delightfully dangerous thought he struggled to wrangle and shove away with the waves of pleasant scent emanating from her every pore. 

Makkari couldn’t help but notice Druig’s scent too. He always smelled vaguely of lush forests after a heavy rain, but tonight there were hints of sandalwood and elderberry as well. She figured he must have indulged in an herbal bath, just like herself, and the thought of him going to so much effort brought her great amusement. She wondered if he had a nice ass. 

Before they could continue their game of cat and mouse, a strange man interrupted them.  

“Lord Festin of Quandwater,” the man said, bowing with flourish. “I have inquired about this fair maiden and was informed that she unable to hear, which is quite unfortunate. Would you tell her to give me the first dance? My family are visiting from the kingdom of Trent, I believe it would be quite a fortuitous match.” Lord Festin, or as Druig had instantly deemed him Fetid, was speaking directly to him with Makkari’s back turned. Druig simmered, feeling himself take on a more aggressive stance immediately. He turned Makkari around to face the interloper and she looked to him, confused. 

This dumbass is trying to dance with you. He asked me to inform you. Druig signed. Makkari’s lips pursed. 

Tell him I’m busy entertaining my translator. Druig smiled. 

“Yeah, she says fuck off.” Lord Festin looked reviled. 

“She said no such thing, you arrogant sod. I’ll take my answer from the lady herself.” He turned to Makkari and tapped his foot impatiently. Makkari suddenly realized the shift and found herself looking around for her usual quill and parchment, something she hadn’t needed for a while. Her and Druig had stopped using it somewhere along the line, and these dresses didn’t exactly come with built in satchels. 

“She doesn’t speak.” Druig said tersely. “That’s why she asked me to tell you. To kindly fuck off.” 

“I’m not an imbecile. I was told she doesn’t hear, not speak.” Festin retorted. Makkari threw up her hands and Druig began to think her dress wasn’t the only reason he was seeing red. 

Finally, Makkari looked Festin dead in the face and pantomimed a quite universal hand gesture that required no knowledge of her language or explaining. Festin scoffed.  

“Never have I been so disrespected in a court! I will have you both punished. Unspeakable cads.” Festin then splashed his drink at Druig as if to get the last word, hoping to ruin his night with stickiness and embarrassment, no doubt. Having spelled it all himself just that morning, Druig found himself chortling quite heartily as the wine flowed effortlessly off the robes and splattered onto the floor. 

“Ah, tough break, lad. It was a really great concept but you chose the wrong man.”  

Festin paled, and seeing how the attention of the room had been drawn, scandalous whispers beginning to spread already, he quickly scampered off into some hole where he would no doubt drown his sorrows in the sympathy of potential wives from low-born families.  

Across the room, a dark-skinned couple were glaring daggers at Makkari, who noticed their gaze and intentionally looked away. Abruptly, she grabbed a mead from a nearby table and flung it at him. As with the wine, it of course splashed harmless around him. 

“Okay,” Druig said. She looked somewhere between bewildered and ecstatic. 

How?? She signed. 

Magic, he signed back with a grin. She grabbed another wine and dumped it directly on his shoes. 

Even your shoes?  

Druig laughed. Yes, even my shoes. Like water off a duck’s back. When she went to snatch yet another, he stopped her hand. 

“Alright, that’s enough. These are actually supposed to go in your mouth you know. Besides, the puddle is growing and I’d hate to see you ruin that nice dress you’ve got on.” Makkari considered this. 

Can you spell mine too? She asked, eyes wide. Druig choked on his drink a little and laughed nervously. 

“Well, yes, but I have to touch it. I don’t know how well everyone would react to me giving the pat down right here in the ballroom.” 

Oh, she replied, a tad dejected. Well, next time. Kingo’s about to start playing, down this drink and dance with me! Druig smiled and did as he was bid. 

“Makkari,” He said suddenly. “You know if you’re ever tired..” 

I’m never tired, she signed. I’m me! He smiled softly. 

“I know. But if you ever don’t feel like kicking their asses yourself, I’m glad to make any Lord Fetid or otherwise disappear.” Rather than speaking and signing as he had been, he signed alone the next words. Makkari, if anyone’s ever mean to you, I will eat them.  

Me too, she signed. 

I will flay their skin off their bones. He added. 

And I will chop them into little pieces. She concurred. 

“And I will use my alchemical herbs to season them tastily.” 

Mmm, cannibalism. She pantomimed tearing the flesh off a chicken leg that was probably not chicken. 

Druig laughs. “Alright this is getting a little fucked. We’re mad.” 

That’s why you’re my favorite person.  

You’re mine too, my murderous Makkari. Cheers. They downed another drink each as Kingo began a showy feat of lute playing and song, bringing dozens of guests merrily charging to the dance floor and scrambling for dance partners. 

Wiping the mead’s foam from his lips, Druig held out a hand. 

“I believe this little diddy goes by the name the Sowmaiden’s Step,” He said and she gladly accepted. 

And so they danced. 

They danced and they drank, hopping and clapping and stumbling along from the Troddenheim Trot to the Baker’s Skip. Makkari was euphoric, she’d always loved to dance and any excuse to move freely and unself-consciously, but tonight she was freer than ever. Druig was grinning and playing along with reckless abandon despite the painful events of last night. In fact, she’d never seen him happier. His grin was wild and he was drinking quite carelessly, he’d even smiled and waved at both Phastos and Kingo, whom he’d referred to as his “cheeky enemy” to a random befuddled partygoer. So on they went for several hours until at last the songs were winding down.  

The two found themselves breaking away from the masses and wandering out to a balcony for some respite. Drinks in hand, they leaned against the rails and allowed the high to wane. The sound of Kingo’s lute could still be heard, gently wafting through the open door, and at once it began to play a different tune, one they had not heard all night, often reserved for late in such a party. Druig stood up a little straighter. 

What is it? Makkari asked. He flushed a little. 

“The Maidensong,” He explained. Makkari was a little too drunk and too brazen to be coy. 

Dance? She signed, holding her hand out. Druig breathlessly obliged.  

The closeness of the dance felt even more dangerous on this, the most warm and pleasant of evenings. In her dress, she was tantalizing, in his robes, he was dashing.  

He could feel her breath on his shoulder as he pressed her into his chest. Emboldened by the moment, with her eyes unable to read his lips, he bent down to her ear. 

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” he whispered, and felt relief at the release as if a great burden had been lifted. Feeling the vibration of his words, Makkari looked up. 

What did you say? She asked innocently. 

“Just that your hands are freezing,” He replied, taking them in his and breathing on them.  

She giggled. Are they? Sorry.  

“I’ll survive.” Druig promised.  

A heavy thump caught their attention, leading their gaze over the balcony to the courtyard below. 

“Is that...is that Ikaris?” Druig’s eyes followed the runaway prince across the dimly lit yard to an arbor of trees, where a faint outline of a womanly figure dwelled. “Ah, and that must be his forbidden milkmaid.” 

What’s up with you and Prince Ikaris? Makkari asked, swaying a little as she moved away to grab her previously abandoned wine. It’s weird.  

“Oh, didn’t catch the full story in my memories last night? We’re half-brothers.” Druig replied uninterestedly, sipping from his own tankard. 

Yeah, and I’m Ajak’s long-lost daughter, Makkari signed with an eyeroll. Druig laughed humorlessly. 

“Well I sure hope not, that’d make our family reunions awfully complicated.” 

Makkari stared at him. 

Wait, are you serious? He sighed and nodded.  

“As juicy as that bit of information is, I’m gonna need you to keep it to yourself. It's a bit lock and key at the moment.” Makkari stared, mouth wide open for a moment. Then she chugged her drink.  

That’s nuts. I’m cheers-ing with a sort-of prince. Let’s get more booze . With that, she was off and back in moments with several more drinks, and Druig couldn’t help but smile. Anyone else would have made such a big deal out of it, people were even likely to kill over it. But drunk Makkari just used it as an excuse to drink more, which she’d already planned to do anyway. 

Several drinks later they were both far, far gone, unable to stay fully upright. 

“You’re my best friend, ok?” Druig said and signed sloppily. “Best. Friend. Ever.” 

You are MY best best friend, Makkari signed back. My best best best best friend.  

“Good,” Druig had said, or at least that was the last thing he vaguely remembered before waking up with the painful assault of sunlight and raucous din of the castle coming alive. 

“God, fuck the sun,” Druig groaned, hiding his face. 

Makkari found herself rousing from slumber as well, not too far from a spray of vomit, though hers or Druig’s she could not tell. She started to pull herself up before glancing around and realizing with urgency. She peeked over the balcony and spied the training grounds in the distance below. They were crawling with knights and mages in their daily routine. 

She gasped, slapping Druig on the arm and flail-signing. Shit! Shit shit shit! Training! We’re late for training! Thena’s gonna kill me!  

Druig jolted up with a start. 

“Fuck!”  

With that they both scrambled to their feet, battling waves of nausea as they did. They ran through the halls to their respective quarters, taking turns emptying the contents of their stomachs in spittoons and out of windows as they hurried along in agony.  

Mostly kitted up and looking like hell, the two of them found themselves facing one another on the training grounds, each enduring a scathing lecture and a series of punishment drills. 

Makkari smiled sloppily at Druig. Best friends forever , she signed lazily.  

Swear by my royal bastard blood, he signed back. 

Chapter Text

It had all started out so innocently.   

Druig discovered his magic very young out of necessity, not greed or sociopathic curiosity like the rumors said. Between his father's unpredictable moods and never quite seeming to be on the same page as other kids, he'd been desperate for anything that would give him insight on how to behave. How to be liked. How to be safe.  

He was only 8, barely literate, when he first came across a passage about Cerebremency in book on magic disciplines. Elated at the potential, and having already mastered a growing number of rudimentary spells, he dove in headfirst. Begged his father for books, which worked sometimes, and when it didn't, he found ways to alight useful tomes from their owners. Once, he walked miles to the nearest city, read and copied everything he could from the library, and then made his way home, shoes torn to shreds, in the middle of the night. His father hadn't even realized he was gone until he'd returned, and the rage he'd flown into upon waking had been one of few times to leave visible scars on Druig's skin.  

The same year he attempted his first Cerebremency spell. He thought it had failed. He continued to cast the spell over and over, not realizing as time went on what he was hearing, seeing, feeling was not his own. One day while making an effort to join in with other kids, he finally suggested a game that had been flitting loudly around his brain.   

"Hey, that's what I wanted to play too!" Claude had said, face lighting up for the first time. For a brief, glorious moment, the other kids looked amiable toward him. Then Druig said what was on his mind. Or rather, it turned out, he had repeated Claude's thought verbatim. Claude's face clouded and he backed away.   

"How did you know I was thinking that? Why are your eyes yellow?" He demanded, looking more fearful than when he'd been expected to take his turn in the short-lived trend of jumping out of Raefe's hayloft.   

"He's using his evil powers to read your mind! I heard his mom was some fancy witch who dumped him off here. Leave us alone, freak!" Raefe had screamed. Raefe was brash and arrogant and cruel. He had always been quick to put Druig down.  

Druig's face flushed with shame, and in a moment of rage, he sought something to hurt him back. Something painful that was on his mind. He caught it, something the boy's father had said.  

"Better a witch than the town whore like yours," he'd said. This had not gone over well.   

After this he was aware of his abilities and gradually learned to control them. He used them frequently to sense his father's ill moods and make himself scarce, and he slowly began to experiment with making animals, and then people do as he willed. A hand unnaturally spilling here, an unfriendly stray cat in his lap there. But it all came to a head when he was twelve.   

That day, Druig's father was positively wrathful.  He was drunk and in an uncommonly violent rage. Druig had been scared for his life, and as usual the rest of the town ignored the screaming and kept a wide berth. In a moment of panic, knowing things couldn’t get worse, he'd reached into his father's mind and extracted the anger. However, Druig soon realized, it didn't evaporate. He'd absorbed it. Hate like thorns grew under his skin, blood racing in his veins. This was a new emotion for him, and it made him want to hurt. It was ironic, painfully ironic, that it was his father's own vitriol that killed him.   

His father had sat down, limp and confused, in the kitchen. All the fight was gone, but not from Druig. A terrible plan emerged from this burn. His father's mind was weak, unguarded, and currently distracted. It was too easy.  

The moment Baine had stepped off the stool with the rope around his neck, the fire left Druig. A nauseating, thick veil of dread fell over him. What have I done, what have I done? He fell to his knees and sobbed, hid under his bed until well after nightfall when the Lord’s proxy had come to deliver the news that Baine was found on a tree just outside.  

From that day on, he was the Darach. In the years that followed, no one spoke his real name unless he made them.  

It spiraled from there. He was an orphan, too young to work, and people had their suspicions. Once again, it had begun so small, just getting people to leave him alone or share food. By the time he was 16, the whole town was under his sway, some more-so than others. The real problems were the passerbys. Their small village did not get many visitors, but those who did began to chatter within the region. A dark mage had risen in the East. He was gathering forces, only a matter of time before his reach would begin to expand. When a holy man had come through, evidently noticing the odd villagers and glowing eyes, Druig knew his time was up.   

He'd wiped the priest's memory of visiting, but he had already suspected the purpose of his crossing had been to gather intel and this act would not be enough. He'd guessed right; the hole and inexplicable dread in the priest's memory was reported directly to Queen Ajak, who had not a doubt in her mind who it was.  

A fortnight later, Druig woke tied to a chair in a jail he'd never seen, three towns over. Andgeir and the royal army's head of intelligence had been there to greet him. One minorly unpleasant interrogation later, they revealed that after removing him from the area, the local townsfolk of his once peaceful hamlet had been more than happy to rat on him.  

He was given a choice: come with them to the castle and utilize his powers for the Mage Corps, or be killed on the spot. Druig told them he'd take the latter. They threw a pair of anti-magic bracers on him, knocked him out, and dragged him into the carriage anyway. A week of heavily guarded travel later, he arrived at Castle Domo in the capitol city. They'd only removed the bracers after his first meal with Makkari (luckily hidden by his sleeves), and there had been guards outside his door for the first three nights.  

Makkari was still after hearing the full story, having seen the highlights already two nights before. Druig was sweating under his robes, every muscle taut, and a slight tremble across his whole body. A large part of him was still expecting her to distance herself him, find some excuse to leave and never speak to him again. Instead, she squeezed his shoulder gently.  

You thought I was crying because I was scared that night, She signed, reading his mind. This mental connection was starting to become a real worry for Druig. You’re still scared I’ll hate you or stop trusting you. Druig, let me explain. I was upset because I saw firsthand how much hell you been put through. You are my best friend, and I had to watch you suffer horribly. I saw how they all mistreated you. I felt helpless and spoiled for the life I’ve lived. Druig, I was crying for you. And though I know you don’t believe me, you’re only proving once again how good you are because after opening up about all that pain you went through, you were still only worried about how it would make me feel. Deep down you know no one should have to go through what you did and feel that way, so much so that you tried to protect me from it secondhand while I was meant to be comforting you.  

“You don’t owe me anything,” he was quick to cut in.  

Shut up, Druig. She cut back in, giving him a gently imposing stare. You are not a monster because of what happened to your father. Quite literally, he killed himself.  

“I made him-”  

The anger that killed him was his own, not yours. You were a child, Dru, she signed the nickname for the first time then. You were terrified and in an impossible situation, so you reacted to protect yourself in a non-violent way. Your intentions were nothing short of pure. If he hadn’t raised you in such fear, taking out his fury on you, none of that would have happened. You are the goodliest person I have ever met. You do the right thing, the just thing, every time no matter who will hate you for it and knowing full well most people will never recognize your kindness. That is the definition of altruism. That’s why I want to stick around. I trust you more than anyone else I’ve ever met, and I always will, because I know now who you really are. I have been inside your mind and seen exactly what you thought and felt, so I know what your intentions are. Anything that says you are bad is not truth, it’s the ignorant voices of others that were programmed into you by lazy people who never checked beneath the surface. I know better than them, so I don’t give a shit what anyone thinks about our friendship. I’d much rather have you in my corner than the whole of the kingdom instead.  

Druig silently reached over and hugged her tightly.  

I won’t forget this, he signed. Thank you.  

Their hungover afternoon spent and emotional vulnerability dealt with, Druig and Makkari were finally hungry again come dinner time and made their way to the feast hall. Not long into their meal, Kingo made an appearance at Makkari’s side.  

“Good evening, Lady Makkari,” Kingo purred. “Might thou have any heated gossip? I heard you disappeared quite intoxicated late in the evening and were late to training this morning. Pray tell whom did you spent the evening with?” His hand was under his chin, eyes wide and grin bold.  

Makkari pointed her thumb at Druig casually.  

“You had better be joking,” He retorted. “If you have soiled our precious knight, Darach-” Druig rolled his eyes.  

“Kingo. Royal jester. Why don’t you go juggle for us, pet? Your singing last night was a bit pitchy.” Kingo gasped in abject horror.  

We passed out on a balcony , Makkari signed, ignoring their battle.  

“Thank the gods, if you got pregnant with some tiny demon mage baby, it would be most tragic thing in the whole world. Next ball, take some other dude home and make cute babies with him instead.” Kingo told her. Makkari pushed his arm and snickered. Just then, a couple of foreign dignitaries one table over spoke a little too loudly to be accidental.  

“Look,” one whispered none-too-quietly, “it’s that bard from last night. Nowhere near the caliber you'd expect for a kingdom this large. He must be in someone’s bed at night.” They chuckled deviously and Druig eyed them with disdain before seeing King’s crestfallen expression.  

“Oi,” Druig suddenly yelled, looking directly at them. “He plays six instruments and sings like a canary. What can you do? Right; voices down then.” The two looked mortified and ducked their heads. There was a long beat of silence and Druig avoided looking at the others, focusing on his food instead.  

“Thank...you, Druig. That was...very off-putting I don’t know where we stand now,” Kingo admitted.  

“I still can’t stand you at all, so how’s that?”  

“Right, of course, that helped clear things up. Whatever, just don’t cockblock Makkari and have her home before midnight, alright?”  

“No promises, I’m more of an overnighter,” Druig said with a wink, to which Kingo made an exaggerated gagging motion.  

“Enjoy your hangover,” He hissed, and off he went to reunite with his beloved Ikaris.  

Makkari smiled at Druig. Glad to see you’re making friends, she signed.  

“Mm, don’t know the meaning of the word really.” Druig replied with a smile.  

***  

On their way out of the feast hall, a hand caught Makkari’s arm. She turned with displeasure to see her parents standing before her. It had been well over two years since they’d last spoken. Once she’d chosen to become a knight and been sworn into the guard, they’d made it clear she was dead to them, one embarrassment too many. She kept her eyes low and pulled her arm free. There was no use signing to them as they refused to learn the language.  

“Makkari. We were hoping to have a word with you. In private.” Her mother demanded. Her parents both eyed Druig, who was standing close to her- and, she now realized, had his arm around her protectively. He’d seen in mind, she recalled with understanding, so he already knew how she felt about them. Druig turned to her.  

Do you want me to stay? We don’t have to talk to them. We can just go home if you want, He signed, eyes earnest and kind. Makkari paused.  

“What are you two gesturing about? Answer the question,” her father bellowed. Druig’s eyes narrowed, his heavy lids dipping deeper.  

Stay close, she signed. Just in earshot. Druig looked conflicted, but he gave her hand a sympathetic squeeze and took his leavy anyway. He disappeared behind a column and made like he was going down the hall, but slipped into an alcove to eavesdrop instead.  

“It’s about that boy,” her mother continued crossly. “He’s a menace and your association with him is ruining the reputation of this entire family. We didn’t think you could do any more damage after choosing this career, but as usual you’ve outdone yourself. What’s worse, his presence is now scaring off the few suitors you had. Your marriage is still vital to the propagation of this family’s power, so he needs to go. That stunt with Lord Festin last night was unacceptable, and we cannot abide your behavior any longer.” Makkari was silent.  

“Speak,” her father’s voice boomed. Quietly, slowly, she managed one sentence.  

“No. He’s my friend.” Druig’s heart clenched so hard he thought it truly might break. It was the first time he’d heard her voice, her lovely voice, and it was being used as a weapon to hurt her.  

“Gods, at least speak it properly if you’re going to be a disgrace!” Her mother snapped, and Druig was on them before could stop himself. His fist was at her father’s jaw in an instant and Makkari gasped from behind him.  

“No,” He raged, “You don’t get to demand she accommodate your bigotry just so you can mock her!” His eyes flashed yellow for a single moment and Makkari’s mother found herself clocked in the face by her own offending hand. “We’re done here, and don’t you ever speak to her like that again. Phastos and Makkari are the first to ever bring honor to your foul family name, and she is perfect just the way she is.”  

At this very moment, Phastos happened down the hall and stormed up to them, likely having heard much of the commotion. He looked livid, red in the face like Druig hadn’t known he could be. He approached Druig and Makkari, searching their faces for the result of this exchange.  

“Get her out of here,” Phastos ordered, eyes wet and voice shaky. “And you, ” His wrath turned on his kin.  

With this, Druig grabbed her hand and stormed away, Phastos’ raised voice hammering threats and insults through the reverberating halls. The two of them barreling through the halls in silence for several minutes before they found themselves truly alone and stopped to process.  

“Are you alright?” Druig asked and signed, reaching out. Makkari was completely still, entirely against her own nature. Her lip trembled, and before she could grasp control tears were already falling down her soft cheeks. “Makkari,” Druig whispered, wiping her tears away and pulling her into his arms. Her pain was palpable, pulsing through their bond in waves, echoing out from her fraught mind. Druig squeezed her tight and dove into her mind, unable to bear her suffering.  

Suddenly Makkari felt calm. Her sorrow had lifted like a blanket tossed aside, and though she remembered everything that had been said, it didn’t hurt like it had only moments ago. Druig shuddered. She sought his eyes and saw they were a well of agony masked by an otherwise neutral expression.  

What did you do? She asked.  

I took your pain. I’m sorry, I just couldn’t stand to see you suffer. You don’t deserve that. Makkari felt a new wave of guilt wash over her.  

Druig, she signed, like you did to your father? You just took it all on yourself?  

It’s okay, he assured her. I’m much better at it now. I can handle it.  

It’s mine, Dru. I don’t want you to hurt in my place, and you don’t deserve it either.  

Druig was silent for a moment.  

“Let’s get back to our rooms, huh? It’s been a long day, we both need sleep.” Wordlessly, she nodded.  

Druig’s room was on the way to the barracks where Makkari normally stayed, so they stopped outside his door first. When Makkari didn’t make to leave or bid farewell, Druig said:  

“If you don’t want to go back to the barracks tonight, you can stay here. I’ll sleep on the floor.” Makkari shook her head.  

I want to be held. Can you sleep with me?  

Soundlessly, and looking a little dazed, he agreed. When they laid down facing one another on the small, single bed, Makkari signed again.  

Does it still hurt?  

No, it’s waning. It doesn’t really have staying power, since the slight wasn’t actually against me, he assured her.  

 Makkari doubted the truth in this statement, but she took it at face value anyways. She rolled over without explanation, scooting up as close the wall as she could get. Druig inched near instinctively, tucking her head under his chin and wrapping his arms around her protectively. Their legs folded together neatly, a perfect fit by nature. Makkari fiddled with his hand, trying to ignore her blurred vision and the subsequent tearstains she left on his sheets.  

Druig began to hum absent-mindedly, stroking her collarbone methodically with one thumb. Gradually, lulled by the vibrations and soothing motion, Makkari began to drift off to sleep, feeling more safe and loved than she had in a long time.  

Chapter Text

Makkari’s eyes fluttered open drowsily. She was warm, her cheek pressed against a sturdy but soft chest with steady heartbeat thumping beneath it. His arm was around her waist, holding her steadfast, and their legs were loosely twined. She pushed herself up gently so as not to wake him, let her eyes fall on his uncharacteristically angelic face. Druig.  

He looked calmer than ever, his dark softly curling locks hanging over his brows and splayed at odd angles on the pillow. There was a soft blush to his cheeks, which were spattered with a subtle dust of freckles in the warm glow of golden hour morning light drifting in from the crack in his window. His heartbeat was slow and heavy, comfortable and mollifying.  

With a small smile, she reached up and brushed the stray locks of hair from his face. He didn’t wake immediately, just stirred slightly, so Makkari laid back down curled into his side. It took him a few moments to rouse, but when he did their eyes met. His sleepy blue eyes gleamed with so much affection she thought she might burst, and all at once it struck her. The rush of some thick, powerful emotion she hadn’t put much stock in before. He was beautiful, kind, safe, and he trusted her above anyone else. Her closest friend, her ally, and now she knew he wasn’t just handsome and charming. No, it was never his face or casual flirtations. This was her. These were her feelings, her undying loyalty, unconditional trust, attraction, and above all affection. Suddenly it seemed so obvious- he was always on her mind, the way he made her heart beat faster, the need to be close to him. How could she have missed it? It was exactly as everyone had always described it. There was one word to sum it all up. One rare, precious four-letter word that would change everything.  

There was an unavoidable burst of adoration in their bond, and it seemed to go both ways.  

Are you feeling better? Druig signed. Makkari nodded, and he pulled her into his chest tightly, pressing a small kiss into the crown of her head. “Good,” he whispered as he released her.  

They sat up, and she was spurned by a marked fluttering feeling in her stomach. Their faces were dangerously near, and something deeply yearning passed between them. It was Makkari that leaned forward first, but came up short, waiting to see if he followed. Druig leaned in, eyes closing on instinct. She held her breath and waited for him to close the distance, less than an inch from her pining lips.  

He jerked away.  

She pulled back instantly and searched his face, terrified that she’d misread the clues. He looked furious.  

“I’m going to kill whoever-” he straightened suddenly and leapt out of bed, crossing to the door. Someone must have knocked, she realized.  

Druig reached out his mind to identify the intruder when he recognized both the mind and the waves of screeching anxiety.  

“Phastos,” He breathed, opening the door a crack.  

“Druig,” Phastos panted. “The castle’s going crazy, I was looking for you and-” his eyes travelled behind him, and Druig felt a blush creep up his cheeks. Curious Makkari had crept up to see who it was, and upon making eye contact with her brother and recognizing how the situation appeared, she too became a distinct shade of pink.  

“Um-”  

“I don’t wanna know, not important right now. The queen’s called everyone in the castle, the nobles, and the entire army currently in the area to the training fields for an announcement. We need to go now.” Phastos interjected, glossing over their embarrassment.  

“What’s happening?” Druig asked, his voice low and strained.  

“I think we can both guess. You saw how many foreign dignitaries were at that feast she threw out of nowhere.” He took a shaky breath in and pinched the bridge of his nose as if to quiet a headache. Druig bit down on his tongue hard enough to draw blood. Of course. Not one moment of peace. Not one chance to be happy. Rolling his tight shoulders back, he turned to Makkari.  

We have to go. The queen has called us. Now.  

Her brows furrowed. I have to go to Thena first, I’ll meet you there, she asserted.  

As promised, Makkari weaved her way through the crowd, now dressed in her appropriate uniform. She spotted Druig’s trademark all black robes and sidled up beside him and her brother, taking his hand. He squeezed her hand supportively in return, but she could see the hard line of mouth and rigidness of his form. He was afraid.  

Before them, Queen Ajak, climbed to the makeshift podium that had been assembled for her use. They were too far to make out the subtleties of her facial expressions, but her body language was as tense as Druig’s, in fact with retrospect it wasn’t hard to see their resemblance, particularly when it came down to mannerisms. In her most authoritarian voice, she gave the proclamation that would spell their doom.  

“Soldiers, Nobility, and visitors from our neighbors and allied nations,” Ajak desperately battled to control the tremble in her voice. “It is with the heaviest of hearts I come to you today to address the real reason I have brought you all here. The time has come, and all solutions have been exhausted. We must prepare for war.” Gasps and screams erupted throughout the crowd, and Makkari instinctively seized Phastos’ hand and squeezed it tight as well as Druig’s. With a fleeting glance to her left she caught a single silent tear roll down Phastos’ cheek as he turned his face toward the sun to avoid her gaze. Ajak gave the crowd a moment to simmer down, the whole assemblage becoming eerily quiet.  

“Please understand that I would never ask this of you if it were not necessary. King Arishem of Celestia, my father,” she added in a softer voice, pushing through, “has chosen the path of empire, and in doing so created heretical beasts called Deviants to expand his military prowess. He waited until Runevald’s death and expected me to relinquish this kingdom to his empire willingly and on command. But he has fatally misjudged me. The kingdom of Domo may not be the land I was born in, but it is my home. This is the country where my children- my son, was born. Where I raised him with my late husband; the man I loved,” only Druig caught the telling pause separating those two clauses. “I have lived here almost thirty years, and ruled it myself for the last three. When I die, it is my son who will ascend the throne and lead you as you have always been told, not as a puppet to an empire headquartered abroad. I will not allow Domo to fall to one man’s insatiable greed, and threaten the peace and prosperity we have fought to create here. The people of Domo deserve better, and it is for that reason I beg you take up arms to protect your country and your families from the monsters Arishem wields.” Druig continued to translate her words, knowing it was too difficult to read lips at this distance, but she could see him shaking with rage. She couldn’t believe the words she was reading, but the roar violently emerging from her fellow soldiers told her it was all too real. They were being called upon to fight. To defend the homeland, as she’d always dreamed. Hundreds of her comrades were bellowing their war cries of support, and Ajak seemed to be telling truth, so why was it the only thing she could feel was dread?   

“Finally, my fellow leaders and consuls from abroad. I beg you to lend your support. Arishem’s avarice is not limited to Domo, he has made it clear he wishes to conquer the whole of the continent. If you do not act soon, your countries will be in jeopardy as well. We must work together in this cause before we all lose everything. Our freedom and way of life is at stake. Millions will die, not just in battle but civilians cut down by the vile creatures his mages have created. As of last night, the Deviant Army reached our southern border. Tomorrow at dawn, the Royal Army of Domo marches to meet them. Make ready, my citizens. May the goddess of victory shine upon our righteous cause.” With this, Ajak ducked her head and turned away. Thena and Gil could be seen leading her away from the fray that followed and back into the safety of the castle.  

A disjointed rumble rattled around the crowd. Some buzzing with excitement- war brought glory, opportunity- some with terror, some a dazed silence as they stumbled back to their daily activities, unable to process the magnitude of change this decision would bring. Phastos dispersed wordlessly with the crowd, no doubt to go work through the problem with his hands on some project alone. When Makkari realized Druig was not moving, eyes glazed over at the far distance and jaw grinding, she gently pulled him aside. He followed without really noticing, all the way back to his own room. She forced him to sit down on his bed and pulled the chair by his desk near for herself. It had been less than an hour since they’d been in this exact room, nearly blowing out the confinements of their platonic friendship, but everything had changed. The almost-kissed seemed as distant a memory as an elusive dream, moments after waking.  

Talk to me, Makkari signed. All at once, he burst.  

“I’m not going. I’m not running off to die in some stupid war for her. She dragged me here against my will and now she wants me to sacrifice everything- including the only fragile happiness I’ve ever experienced- because she can’t get a handle on her own father?”  

She’s trying to protect Domo, for you and Ikaris, even though she doesn’t have to. It’d be easier to be leader of a local tributary state, but she wants to save it. All of us, Makkari reasoned.  

“Don’t defend her! She’s a failure as a queen and a parent. She’s sending me to die, Makkari. Rather than reveal who I really am. She’s sending you off to die!”  

I’ve trained my whole life for this. That’s exactly the career I signed up for, she countered.  

“Well I didn’t! I’m leaving. I’m not going lay my life down for a country and queen I don’t give two shits about.” He seethed.  

Makkari paused for a moment. Do you really think it would be better somewhere else? Is there another country you’d go start over in? Druig clenched his jaw and ran a hand through his hair agitatedly.  

“Of course not. Humans are the same everywhere. There will always be war, and poverty, and hatred. There’s no point to anything, really.”  

It was the first time Makkari understood what a profoundly sad person Druig was. And she realized with great pain if she were just now seeing it, likely no one else ever had. You see, there are people who are exactly as they seem at face value. There are people in life who are worth a second glance. Then there are people are like Druig, who need  one in order to be understood or appreciated. At a glimpse, he was gritty and monstrous, but the truth- the aching truth of it- was that he loved gut-wrenchingly deeply. His relentless empathy and need for justice tore him open and left him bleeding, always bleeding. The truth was he was broken and kind to a fault, just as much as he was ruthless and vengeful and calculated.  

I’m going to fight, Makkari resolved. There may be no country that has it quite right, but this is my home. I’m loyal to this royal family and I know they care about the citizens of Domo. I’m a warrior, this is what I was meant for.  

Druig eyed her with nothing short of devastation. Her loyalty was as pure as it was unfounded in his mind, but it was who she was. He could never hope to change her, nor could he dare to try.  

 I won’t ask you to come with me, I understand why you don’t want to. But if you, you know I’ll be glad of the company. I’ll miss you dearly if you’re not around so if you leave...you still have to write, okay? She added.  

Druig felt his eyes sting, and he wasn’t surprised to hers glistening as well. She stood and started for the door, but he caught her wrist.  

“It can’t end like this, we have too much to talk about,” He begged.  

This is important to me, she signed with finality. I just want you to figure out what is most important to you, and I’ll support you in whatever that is. With these final words, she quitted the room, breaking everything inside of him in an instant. With the weight of the decision hanging heavy on his shoulders and a timeline rapidly ticking away, he only had moments to process before another knock came at his door.  

Instinctively he opened it eagerly, hoping it was her, come to run away instead. He needn’t check their mental connection, though, he knew there would be no such fantasy. Instead, he was greeted by a robed woman, face unnecessarily concealed. Thena was standing just behind her; there was no need to guess who it was.  

“Druig,” Ajak’s quiet voice called. “We need to talk.” Druig stepped back into the room in a tizzy.  

“I’m really not in the mood, less today than ever.” He growled. Ajak nodded to Thena, who stayed outside the door and closed it behind her.  

“I know you’re upset-”  

“Upset!” He exclaimed before he could stop himself. “You really tried to feed me this narrative that you loved me and wanted to reconnect- after everything? After you left me to die with that monster of a man, dragged me back here kicking and screaming when my powers began to threaten you, and now- only to send me to my death? To use those very powers as a weapon in your war?” He was screaming now, hoping the thick stone walls kept their conversation private. He couldn’t handle one more person today. Not one more wayward glance.  

“I don’t know what else I can do to convince you that I have done everything to protect you and keep this country together,” Ajak yelled back, her own rare temper rising. “But I have. I had no idea your father was capable of such things, and I only found out when they were questioning the townsfolk about everything that happened. I didn’t even know Baine was dead until that day. If I had known things were so bad, I would have tried to have you sent elsewhere, but I didn’t. I was a foreign queen with an illegitimate child in her new kingdom and a vindictive husband. Do you know what would have happened if you had been Runevald’s son with some mistress? Absolutely nothing. You would have been raised out in the open, backup to your brother, and no one would have batted an eye. You were my indiscretion, and Runevald wanted you dead. I managed to get him to settle for far out of sight. I waited until he died, gave it couple years to settle the kingdom under my own rule. And then I brought you here, hearing the rumors and the truth and not having any idea how I was supposed to start apologizing or making amends- and I thought we would have time, Druig. I thought we could get to know each other and I would find you a place at court and eventually reveal your true parentage once Ikaris was on the throne and people no longer were concerned about you. I didn’t want any of this to happen.”  

“Well, it is happening, and I’m not doing it. Not a one of you could make me if you tried.”  

“Druig, you don’t understand. I don’t want to send you off, but I can’t reveal who you are right now. The kingdom is too unstable, we aren’t even sure who our allies are. Others may try to seize our throne if we look too weak. Celestia has a bigger army to begin with, but these deviants...my couriers, those who survived, have sent messages detailing the carnage they left behind on their way to our land. They’re not animals or humans, something horrible and twisted in between, an abomination created by the most foul magics ever dreamt of. They’re tearing people to shreds and littering their bodies in the fields for sport. It’s not just politics keeping me from allowing you to avoid this conflict. Druig, you are too powerful. You are the best mage we have, and we need you to fight. Millions will die.”  

“This country hasn’t given me shit, what do I care? People die from starvation and violence here every day, deviant or no. What difference does it make who’s in charge of the beheadings?”  

“Those issues can be resolved, Druig. With the proper input we can devise systems that improve life for everyone, and I know you are one person I'd want around to help do so. But right now, I need your skills in battle, and so does that knight of yours.”  

“Don’t you dare bring her into this, who the hell do you think you are?”  

“I have eyes, Druig. I was at that stupid ball, sitting idly as was my queenly duty from a throne with a perfect view of the entire room. I saw you dancing, I saw you sneak off, and I personally fanned the flames of Lord Festin’s ego to salvage our allyship with his parents in Trent. She’s Thena’s favorite protégé, for whom she holds great esteem. From what I hear, she is a magnificent warrior with unshakable loyalty. She is going to war, Druig. If for no one else, will you leave her to her own devices? Do you really trust her to not do anything overly dangerous for the sake of saving lives or vanquishing enemies? If you go along with her, you can protect each other. I trust that between the two of you, foes would be fleeing and there would be little opportunity for injury.” Druig pressed his palms into his eyes hard enough to see white.  

“Get out.” He told her.  

“Druig-”  

“Get out! I need to think.” He demanded. Silently, Ajak took her leave.  

Druig collapsed into himself, pulling his knees into his chest. He sat there for at least an hour, rocking and wracking his brain. Finally, he stood.  

He started packing.  

Chapter Text

There was work to be done.  

It only taken Druig a few minutes to pack a small case. He knew the army would have most of the necessities for him, so it was only a matter of bringing along some plainclothes, books, and notes he’d want for company. He picked up small gold cufflink Makkari had swiped and given him for good luck. He’d need it.  

He hated to admit it, but Ajak was right. He couldn’t leave her behind, not knowing she was walking into danger. They could protect each other better than anyone else could, in no small part due to the limitless faith and trust they had in one another. What else was he going to do? Run off and be a librarian or researcher at the great library in Morvir? Spend every day worried sick and wondering if she were already in the cold hard ground somewhere he’d never find her?  

A large part of him was worried and anxious to see these deviants as well. He couldn’t forget the genuine fear in Ajak’s eyes. She had been on the verge of tears, eyes distant as she explained the devastation they had already reaped before reaching Domo’s borders. Perhaps if magical research had created the monsters, magic research could also destroy them. That was something he excelled at, and that nagging sense of justice in him told him he would end up trying.  

It was becoming more and more apparent the significant chance that it would be someone in Druig’s own bloodline to kill him. Whether indirectly by the soldiers of his grandfather, directly by his half-brother, or at the no longer avoidable behest of people in his surprisingly patient mother’s court. He begrudgingly relented that he should probably stop pissing people off for fun. His lacking reverence for authority did seem to amuse Makkari though, so it would be difficult.  

Makkari. That was the first trouble he needed to rectify. If they were going off to war and would be away for a while, with her parents still gleefully wheeling and dealing at court, he needed to set the record straight quickly. He hadn’t gotten the chance to intercede with them as he planned yet, and now tonight was the only shot. So off to Tilborn manor he rode.  

Her parents were predictably shocked and uncomfortable when the servants announced his visit. Reluctantly, the led him to the den and presented him with tea and snacks, which he didn’t mind indulging in, even if they were pleasantries, maybe even bribes gifted by these fuckheads.  

“So you’re probably wondering what brings me here this afternoon,” Druig said after a prolonged, heavy silence. “In short, it’s a bargain. I’m not here to knock you on your assess again, at least I’m hoping to not have to. That’ll be up to you.”  

“What is it you want, Darach?” Lord Tilborn hissed.  

“I’m going to tell you a very lucrative secret, and make you a proposition. If you agree to terms, I think we’ll both be very happy. So here it is: I am Ajak’s son, and she intends to make that known when a convenient moment arises. Illegitimate, nonetheless second in line to the throne of Domo and somewhere rather high up on the line for Celestia. Yes, that is why she has shown me remarkable favoritism in this court where I would otherwise likely already have been executed. An heir and a spare, so they say. Now there’s a war, and having a backup plan, particularly one as powerful as myself, is more important than ever.” Their faces were stunned, eyes wide and pupils mere pinpricks, but neither of them tried to deny it. As nuts as it sounded, their subtle resemblance and the queen’s confounding treatment of the troublesome mage until now were powerfully convincing enough. Druig continued.  

“Here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to leave Makkari alone, and I do mean never speak to her again apart from public pleasantries, and give up your quest to marry her off to the wealthiest creep twice her age you can swing. You’re also going to resist the urge to run off to whichever side seems most likely to win. You will refuse any offer you’re approached with, and keep all of your resources and loyalty focused on Domo. In return, I will marry Makkari, making your family wealthier and powerful than it has ever been, with the potential to one day end up on that throne. I will also refrain from tormenting your every dream, tearing your consciousness apart, or simply making you my living dolls, which is more than you deserve. Do we have a deal?”  

Lady Tilborn stood up. “You can’t do this! Threatening us in our own homes. And how to you plan to follow through? You’re being shipped off across the country in a war that will rage for gods only knows how long. Why would we risk our livelihood- our lives even, staying put in this doomed country, for a far-off promise of marriage to a bastard who’s not even been announced for succession when one or both of you may very well die in battle any day?” Druig rose slowly, menacingly.  

“Because, Lady Tilborn, you have no idea what I’m capable of. I can and will make you agree right now. I could intervene and change every aspect of your vile personality, take your memories and opinions, or perhaps just send an army of braindead souls from the Deviant Army to knock down the walls of your estate and tear you both to shreds. I am both powerful and creative, and rest assured I will have my way. I am merely giving you the opportunity to make the sound decision yourself and maintain some semblance of control. You can either go willingly in this one bargain, retaining autonomy for the rest of your cushy future, or you can become my pawn forever. Either way, I don’t think Makkari or Phastos will mind much. You will make your own bed, and you will lie in it. What will it be?”  

Lord Tilborn swallowed thickly and then rose with a shaky sigh. He stretched out his hand.  

***  

Druig didn’t feel great about making deals for Makkari’s future. He wasn’t sure how Makkari would feel about the prospect, but he was prepared to simply use the opportunity to get the Tilborns off her back for a couple years. He had no intention of forcing an actual marriage on her, course. It would be a legal affair, allowing them to live in the same house and avoid dubious matches. She would be free to love anyone she pleased and not beholden to expectation of heirs, although if she had them with someone else he’d still be more than happy to provide for and raise them. His heart warmed a little at the thought of little Makkari’s running around an estate house in the countryside, or perhaps a dwelling in the city. If that was something that she wanted, they would no doubt be as lovely as her, sweet and curious. He would be anything to her, happy to just be a part of her life for as long as he could and do whatever it took to keep her parents’ hate far, far away. To make her feel safe, and accepted, and celebrated as she damned well should be.  

He was heading to the Ajak’s quarters to let her know he’d made his decision when his mood was soured by none other than his mortal enemy, skulking through the halls.  

“Little brother. If it isn’t the rat infestation we just can’t seem to get rid of. I heard a lot about you recently. I know the sick things you’ve done.”  

“Fascinating,” Druig said attempting to pass him. He followed quickly behind, grabbing Druig’s wrist to stop him.  

“What exactly is it going to take to get you to fuck off and leave this family alone?” Ikaris snarled. Druig couldn’t resist the smirk that pulled across his face.  

"You’re gonna have to make me."  

"I will." Ikaris vowed.  

"How? Are you gonna decapitate me?" Druig countered.  

"I can do worse than dismemberment. I'll make your existence here hell, you bastard."  

Druig laughed heartily. "If you're gonna do that you'll have to come up with some better material, Ikaris. Bastard's what my father called me. It's more of a fact than an insult." Ikaris bristled, and he pushed further. "You on the other hand...I have unfettered access to your mind. I could show you true hell and you would never know a thing about me."  

"Really?” Ikaris replied, a smug grin gracing his sharp features. “I know youre awfully attached to that knight." Druig stopped cold.  

"She's mistakenly unafraid of me, and I let her hang around. There's nothing else to it." He retorted. Ikaris grinned like the devil himself.  

"No, it isn’t." Druig felt his pulse rise for the nth time today.  

"I only teased you about Sersei, Ikaris. If you attempt to hurt her-"  

"Now why would harm an innocent knight? All I need to do is take her away from you. Some time apart should rectify that attitude. Two fighters of your caliber going off to war on multiple fronts- just doesn’t seem right does it? Be better if you were fighting separate battles as needed."  

"Don't test me, Ikaris. You don't want to see what I'm capable of without her."  

“I know exactly what you’re capable of,” Ikaris hissed, face inches from his. “Andgeir told me everything.”  

“That was before I ever met someone I actually cared about, prince. Now that I have something to live for, you can’t even imagine what I’d be willing to do to protect it.” He shoved Ikaris hard against the wall, and the older man stayed put, looking chilled.  

***  

He had arrived at Ajak’s door, and it was early evening. He was completely exhausted by this messy day already, and he knew he’d be grumpy tomorrow as a result of all the socialization, which was going to be very unpleasant as he was meant to be travelling all day with the army. Even so, he had one more errand to run before returning to Makkari.  

He found Thena guarding the door, and she stopped him with a hand. She looked irked, and it didn’t take long for Druig to figure out why. Raised voices were coming from within, so he guessed he was supposed to wait until the argument ended before barging in.  

Sprite’s voice was unmistakable.  

“Ajak, you said it yourself and so did Andgeir, I’m the most gifted illusionist this country has seen in decades. I can help! Just think of how useful I’d be in battle. I could-”  

“My answer is no, Sprite. You are far too young to go to war.” Ajak said crossly.  

“I’m not a child anymore! I know how bad it is right now. I know how much bigger their army is. You need me! You can’t afford to sideline me because of your qualms with teenage soldiers.”  

“I can and I will! Besides, if we send every one of our mages away to die in a war as well as our young talent, who will be around to raise the next generation? We need you to survive for our future, and that is my final word on it. That is an order from your queen.”  

Sprite slammed through the door before Druig could fully get out of the way.  

“Ow!” He cried. Sprite gave him a withering look.  

“Sorry. Have fun saving the world or whatever. Consider that my parting gift.” They said.  

Druig took their arm gently before they could continue storming away.  

“Be grateful for your childhood, Sprite. Not everyone gets one. Not everyone has people around who care to protect them. Trust me when I say there will always be more conflicts. You can take your time.” Sprite yanked their arm away but said nothing else. They avoided Druig’s gaze and walked away at a much more subdued pace. Taking a deep breath that ended in something more like groan, he stepped inside Ajak’s room.  

“I’m really tired of today, so I’ll be brief. Congratulations, you convinced me. I’m going off to your war. I’ll kill your deviants, give grandad a big fuck you, and today I used politics to trap some noble assholes instead of magic. Character growth.”  

Ajak gave him a small smile.  

“I am proud of you, Druig. Even if you are pig-headed and rude.”  

Before Druig could get too touched and respond, Ikaris came waltzing into the room once again.  

“Fucks sake,” he muttered under his breath.  

“Mother, just the person I was looking for.” Ikaris turned and played coy with a curt bow toward Druig. “And Druig. I’ve been thinking about the battle arrangements we spoke about earlier, and I think we should split Druig and Makkari. With their incredible prowess alone, it makes sense to-”  

“No.” Ajak cut in definitively. “They will stay together.” Druig felt the tension in shoulders release slightly for the first time that day. He remained silent, waiting to see it play out.  

“But, mother-”  

“I said no, that is my decision. You are dismissed, Ikaris.” Ikaris floundered.  

“You can’t be seri-”  

“Druig has spent his whole life being bullied by weaker men, Ikaris! He is your brother, and I made it clear I would not abide this ill will between you. What exactly about him are you so threatened by?” Ajak reprimanded. Ikaris was speechless. “Dis. Missed.”  

Ikaris flew from the room in a rage, and Druig gave him a good moment to get far down the hall before speaking again.  

“Thank you,” He breathed, and Ajak bowed her head at him.  

“Please be safe, Druig.” She replied, and with only a hint of hesitance she came closer and hugged him. To Druig’s surprise, he let her.  

“Goodnight,” he said, unsure what else to do.  

“Goodnight.” She replied warmly.  

***  

It was well after sundown now and Druig had only managed a light dinner on his own. He stood outside the barracks and took in a deep breath. Somehow, approaching Makkari after the closest they’d come to an argument was the most nerve-wracking thing he’d done all day.  

He said a silent prayer to whoever or whatever was listening in the higher realms and stepped inside. The room was eerily quiet, empty but for one restless woman.  

“Makkari,” He said and signed, stepping into her field of vision. She blinked up at him, clearly surprised to see him so soon. “Where is everyone?”  

With their families. Thena released them home for the evening so they could say goodbye and gather whatever they wanted, she signed with more than a smidge of melancholy.  

“Makes sense,” He said, kicking at some non-existent pebble on the floor. After a beat, he looked up to meet her gaze. Her dark brown eyes were sorrowful and scared behind her long fluttering lashes, more like swamp water on an ominous evening than rich soil tilled for seeding like they normally were. He bent down beside her bed and placed one hand her knee. “I’m coming with you.” Her eyes lit up.  

You are? She signed hopefully.  

Druig smiled sadly. I couldn’t quit you if I tried. People need us.  

Makkari threw her arms around him tightly and he buried his face in her neck. It still smelled like cinnamon and orange.  

You’re going to help a lot of people. And we get to stick together. What can go wrong when it’s you and me? Druig scoffed.  

“Absolutely everything. There’s something else you should know though...I saw your parents-”  

Druig did you commit a crime? Makkari asked suddenly, eyes concerned but in a very...”do you need help hiding the body" sort-of-way.  

“Only a small one,” He admitted. “Bribery.” He took a long pause. “I told them if they left you alone, I’d marry you, and then you’d be in line for the throne.” Makkari blinked several times in quick succession. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I figured it would get them off our backs for a good while and save you from nasty suitors. If you want to though, we can do that later. You wouldn’t be beholden to me, of course. You could have whoever you wanted, but we’d both have freedom and our careers and hey, you’d get to see your best friend every day at home, right?” He was glad she was deaf in that moment, because otherwise she might have been more keenly aware of the several times his voice cracked, but perhaps with speed of his signs and darting, avoidant eyes she saw his anxiety anyways.  

Slowly, a small grin spread across her face.  

Sounds like one hell of a bargain. You and me with our own house? Gods save us all. She wacked his arm lightly. Maybe next time ask me first though, even if it’s only a ruse.  

“I know, you’re completely right. I was kind of making it up as I went along and there were serious time constraints, but I’m sorry I still should’ve talked to you first, that was weird. Don’t feel burdened by it though, we can do it whenever, and-” Makkari placed a hand on his mouth to stop him rambling.  

It’s a deal, partner.  

Chapter Text

Phastos came before dawn and walked with them to the lawn outside the city gates where the army was fast gathering. There had definitely been tears involved, both Makkari’s and Phastos’. When Makkari went to Thena for a moment to retrieve her gear, Phastos took the opportunity to talk to Druig alone. 

“Heard you’re my brother-in-law now.” He stated, entirely deadpan. 

“Oh. Well that’s- word travels fast. Um-” Druig tried and failed to form one coherent thought, but was saved from rambling by Phastos with a wry grin. 

“Got a nasty letter from my parents about it. Made my day, naturally. You don’t have to explain. Just...” His face became serious, a little forlorn. “Take care of her, alright?” Druig sobered. 

“Of course. I don’t want to die but...I won’t let her get hurt protecting me.” 

“Not just her life when she’s out there swinging those stupid swords around,” Phastos clarified. “Make her happy too.” He added. 

“I will.” Druig vowed. 

“Alright then...” Phastos sniffled. “Well, I know Darachs are allergic to hugs or whatever-” 

Druig threw his arms around the elder man in the most aggressive bear hug he could manage. When they pulled away, he snatched Phastos’ spectacles. 

“Indissolubilis,” He called, waving one hand over them. A golden glow shone and faded. He handed them back to their quizzical owner. “Now they won’t break while we’re away. Happy researching.” Phastos looked touched, but he just patted Druig’s shoulder.  

“I, uh, smuggled these from the kitchens for you guys. Since you’re always hungry. Make sure Makkari gets at least one you glutton,” He replied casually, tossing Druig a bag of muffins. 

“Phastos, you magnificent sod,” Druig marveled. “Sticky fingers must be in your genes.  Aye, there’s perks to having family, aren’t there?” Phastos only nodded. 

What did I miss? Makkari signed upon return.  

“Nothing much. Don’t die out there, murder babies,” Phastos concluded, signing and speaking. “Come home safe and build the most powerful family in Domo just to rub in mom and dad’s faces.” 

There’s no greater motivator than their displeasure, Makkari concurred, grinning smugly.  

*** 

They were informed the march would take two days to reach the invaders in the south. They were given the okay to walk loosely rather than in formation with their respective regiments, so Makkari and Druig kept close to one other. Half the army was to walk the first half of the day while the other rode in carts, swapping midday for fairness sake. Druig, being nowhere near an early morning riser, insisted they take the carts first.  

What’s that? Makkari signed when they had found a nice spot and hunkered down. Druig side-eyed her as he dug into the bag of muffins. 

“Gift,” he replied, unsure if she could read his lips around his full mouth. She smacked his hand hard enough to leave a red mark and long enough to snatch a muffin for herself. 

For you or me, brat? Share.  

“For me! They were a gift, thanking me for proposing to your vicious ass,” Druig retorted, biting off another massive chunk.  

Ah yes, I did see you two having a brotherly moment back there.  

Well I’m part of the family now, aren’t I?  

Makkari smiled at this. You are.  

Thena sat across from them holding a spear as if ready to go at any moment, even from her cart rest. 

“What’s all this about proposals now?” She asked. 

Haven’t you heard the news? Makkari asked, Druig translating as she waved her empty ring finger in front her boss. Wedding bells.  

“Oh, are Druig and Phastos getting married? Congratulations.” Druig and Makkari shared a look. 

“Phastos is in love with that cheery little healer Ben, Thena. Didn’t you see them at the ball?” Druig corrected. 

“I... wasn’t paying attention.” She explained, suddenly a little anxious. 

Oh, she was paying attention. To Gilgamesh who was stationed outside the feast hall, Makkari signed, an evil grin tugging at her lips.   

“Is that so?” Druig drawled, eyeing her up and down. “Might that be a pastry you have wrapped up in your lap, my lady?” 

“Yes,” she said haughtily. “I was in the kitchens. It was given to me.” 

“By Gilgamesh,” Druig said and Makkari signed in unison. 

“I said I was in the kitchens,” Thena retorted, looking away. “When is he ever not there?” 

“And how did that jam get on such a coordinated woman’s skirt, Captain?” 

“Mind your business, Mage.” She hissed. Makkari and Druig laughed until she hopped off the cart and decided to walk for a spell anyways. 

The morning sun had not yet risen and Makkari had slept terribly the night before, anxious, giddy, and sad about leaving her brother behind. Despite her hyperactive nature, she was tired and knew she should rest now while she could, so she laid her head against the side of the cart and tried to nap. It was far too bumpy and miserable. 

Dru, can I borrow your shoulder? She signed hesitantly. 

“Of course,” He agreed instantly.  

He scooched down enough that his shoulder was at just the perfect spot for her head to rest, and she settled in gleefully. Before long, she was fast asleep. Druig pressed a single, clandestine kiss to her forehead as he twined their fingers together. He wondered if the almost-kiss had been a mistake. Perhaps they had both narrowly escaped disaster by being interrupted. Should he bring it up? Now they were loosely betrothed, wouldn’t falling in love make that more complicated? And what about the war? 

What if we don’t like who we become there? A dark part of him wondered. What if I did something monstrous she couldn’t forgive, right there in front of her? He took a deep breath and held it until he could see reason, relaxing his shoulders as he let it out. Not today, he thought. Today, let me just enjoy her presence. He nestled back down against the woman beside him and let himself sleep. 

It only took a couple of hours for the glaring sun to cook them awake. The army broke for mealtime and then they continued on, this time on foot.  

You know what this means, Makkari signed. Road trip, road trip, road trip!  

“You realize we’re going to war, right? Not on vacation to see the sea?” Druig retorted. 

Don’t be such a downer, Dour Druig. Think of it as a honeymoon!  

“I am definitely taking you someplace with less blood for our honeymoon. I have to ask my mom for money first though, I don’t really get paid much as a mage.” Makkari laughed. “I’ve always wanted to get to the Great Library in Morvir.” 

A library?! Makkari signed incredulously. Something so boring?  

“Hey, there are...hiking trails for you in Morvir. Probably.” 

Is it too obvious if a new husband and wife go on two separate honeymoons? 

“Gosh, I just don’t think my mum will subsidize two honeymoons from the royal coffers, darling.” He crooned with fake sincerity. “What about Torfnir’s Peak? It’s a hike and it’s supposedly crazy magical. I’ll bet I can do some wicked fun spells up there.” Makkari’s eyes widened. 

Like what?  

“That’ll have to be a surprise, my impatient Makkari. We have to save something for the wedding night.” 

Chapter Text

Day 1. 

Devastation. 

That was the word Ajak had used.  

The word was not enough to describe what they were seeing. Druig knew in the coming years, new words would be invented to explain what was happening right now.  

Fifteen miles out from where they expected to meet the Deviant Army, the Royal Army had ordered its ranks into formation. Druig, being in the Mage Corps, was of course forced to part from Makkari for the first time. They had a loose battle strategy in mind. 

Five miles later, they could see obliteration on the horizon. The Deviant Army was far closer than they had expected them to be. Black smoke billowed into the sky from thatch houses and barns set ablaze in the chaos. Though they were miles away from the violence, their screams echoed across the plains.  

Druig felt a dread unlike anything he’d ever experienced. The deafening screams grew louder with every step, and that is when he realized no one else could hear them. It was their minds, crying out in anguish and fear. The wave of terror hit him viscerally, and he bent over to vomit instinctively.  

“Lost your nerve already boy?” One soldier asked. “You haven’t even seen battle yet!” 

The mages were more understanding. Knowing of his powers, several paused their march and eyed him nervously where he knelt on the ground in evident pain. Also having been on the receiving end of his powers, they refrained from laying hands on him.  

“Um- High Mage Andgeir!” One called. Andgeir turned with a rageful glare.  

“What?” 

“The Darach, sir,” The mage managed. 

Andgeir gave him a thorough glare as he assessed the situation. 

“What’s happening, Druig?” He asked.  

“They’re screaming,” Druig moaned, “they’re all dying.” Andgeir ordered someone retrieve Makkari at once before they fell further behind.  

“Druig, who are you hearing? The villagers or the Deviants? Can you pinpoint where they are?” 

Druig emptied his stomach again. So much for that lovely binge of muffins this morning. 

“Villagers,” he mumbled.  

“Can you focus in on the army? Tell us where they are, what they’re doing? Their formations?” 

Druig shivered as the collective trauma ripped through him. 

“I feel everything, so only if you want friendly fire.” He growled in response. It was too much. He was feeling everything, all of them, at once. Dying, screaming, running, helpless, pained.  

“I need you to describe where the civilians are, Druig. Focus in and tell us where they’re hiding so we can protect them and send people to lead them away.” 

Druig fought against the immense agony to locate each one in the upcoming village. He was still describing locations- this family in their house, these men outside fighting- no, dead- that group hunkered in the schoolhouse- when Makkari appeared before him, looking concerned.  

Druig, she signed, clutching his face in her hands and smoothing his hair. Look at me. Focus on me, what’s wrong? When he only moaned in response, Andgeir explained on his behalf.  

“We’ve got the information we need for now,” Andgeir concluded. “That was very helpful, Darach. We may yet save some lives. But now I need you to stop, we need to get up and keep going so we can actually make a difference.” 

“I can’t,” Druig choked. He felt like he was going to faint. He felt like he was turning inside out. 

“You two seem to have a bond. I have to lead the Corps. Get him up and operational,” Andgeir ordered Makkari. She nodded tersely and turned back to her friend. 

Druig, you have to shut them out. Remember your mental walls. You can block them all out, just focus on me. Come into my mind if that helps. Just focus on me, Makkari soothed, and Druig tried his best to follow.  

He took refuge in her thoughts for a moment, feeling her flood him with calm and affection, almost as if her conscious was greeting his at the door with a hug. Gradually, he felt his walls building back up, the shouting din dulled to whispers and the physical ache now a gentle disquiet in his bones. His breathing levelled out and his heart slowed. 

“Thank you,” He whispered, signing the word repeatedly.  

Thank you, Makkari signed back. You just saved a lot of lives. We have to get there and stop this, though. We need to go fight.   

“I can do it,” Druig replied, climbing to his feet.  

They pressed on to the town, which was already in ruins. The battle plan evaporated at the first sign of the Deviants. Upon seeing the ferocity of indiscriminate violence the men of the Deviant Army were inflicting, he at first thought they were the monsters Ajak described. But then he saw the real Deviants. The beasts, no, abominations was right. They were like nothing that had ever existed.  

Pure chaos unraveled as Domo’s army tore into their enemy. There were monsters of every variety among them, clawed beasts on the ground and flying terrors above. They smashed through walls and tore through people. Ripped heads clean off their bodies. Gutted villagers and alighted limbs from unwilling soldiers. 

The villagers were being dragged from their homes by Deviant soldiers and Deviant monsters alike. There were at least ten Deviant soldiers for every member of the Royal Army besides the creatures, and no amount of spellwork could keep up.  

A family ran from a house as it was torn asunder and its remnants burned to cinders. The monsters saw no difference between these civilians and their enemies. A four-legged one bisected the father and kept on its advance, soiled in his blood, as if nothing had occurred. The mother screamed as a flying beast swooped for her young daughter, stumbling and confused, and she shoved the child with every ounce of her strength out of its grasp, leaving herself to collapse to the ground and become its new target. She was dropped to the ground with a sickening crunch less than fifty feet away. The little girl was like a deer in the lamplight, frozen with fear and completely unable to process the violence she had just witnessed. She stared blinkingly, nothing behind the eyes, in the middle of the carnage.  

A Deviant soldier moved in to finish the job, and Makkari cut him down with extreme prejudice. She was shaking with rage. Finally, she snapped into action. She realized quickly the monsters were doing the most damage, and the majority of soldiers were ill-equipped to handle them. Seeing the urgency of eradicating them, she ushered the child in the direction of a standing building and ran straight for the closest clawed fiend on the ground.  

Makkari drew her swords and lunged at the creature. It was disturbingly fast and exceedingly vicious. Even with her speed, she knew she couldn’t make any headway in killing it without others to help distract it. Suddenly, six men from the Deviant army hurtled toward the monster, weapons ablaze. It took her a moment to register their glowing gold eyes. 

Her head whipped around to see Druig, not far away. The little girl was in a golden shield box on the ground behind him, just like the barriers he’d raised to protect himself from her in their first skirmish. It looked uncomfortably like a cage, but she was safe. Makkari let her brain do the thanking as Druig’s head and hands snapped back in forth in every direction.  

Shield for the child. Six soldiers on the Deviant. Fireballs at the beasts in the sky. Shield, soldiers, fireball, repeat. This was difficult. He couldn’t manage all these separate spells at once, and occasionally still dodging or blasting back enemies that came for him directly. He looked at Makkari with some desperation, hoping her Deviant battle was coming along well. His gaze landed just in time to see her land the finishing blow on the creature, slitting its great neck. Three of the soldiers had already been demolished by the beast, and Druig was extremely concerned he hadn’t been able to sense this change before now. He wracked his brain for solutions to their vastly outnumbered forces as one of the flying creatures fell out of the sky and incinerated on impact from his flames. He flagged Makkari down.  

She came running and he released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding to have her near again. 

Watch my back, he signed. She nodded fiercely and got to cutting down men and beast left and right around him. He maintained the child’s shield as it was a simple and low cost enough spell while he closed his eyes and focused his energy. He spread his will out amongst the crowd in a vast wave, demanding their minds give over. Instantly, 400 men fell unconscious on the ground. 

This was nothing compared to the number still in play, but it levelled the playing field to some marginal degree.  

Some of their army moved through and attacked these slumbering foes, and Druig felt compelled to stop them. Before he could shout, Andgeir appeared beside him. 

“We don’t have time for that, we’re dying out here. This cannot be sustained. We must retreat.” 

“They’ll follow,” Druig retorted. The evil he’d seen in this few mere minutes had told him as much. They would relentlessly advance and cut down the Royal Army and any innocent in their way until the army scattered and Domo surrendered. 

“We’ll have to force them.” Andgeir said coldly. “Mages!” He boomed at the top of the noise as a single blue stripe erupted from his hands into the sky. The symbol for retreat. Soldiers and Mages alike began running back all too willingly to Andgeir’s stand. “With me,” He bid Druig. 

A wall of flame erupted in front of Andgeir’s hands and he pushed it back to the village’s now-defunct borders. One by one, the mages followed suit, expanding the length of the border across the singed land.  

“Now, Druig!” Andgeir called. Druig obeyed for once in his life, pushing with all his might to build the enormous barrier and press backward, forcing the enemies to retreat. Only the flying beasts remained, and the army and mages picked them off quickly. Thena came running. 

“How long will these fires hold?” She asked curtly, covered in gore that seemed not to phase her. 

“They won’t,” Druig replied honestly.  

“We still have to retreat,” Andgeir affirmed. “But it will give us some time to move inland, evacuate the civilians and perhaps scramble them momentarily.” 

Thena nodded and gave the orders; the entire army began heading back the way they came, some rallying the survivors from the village to follow. They were extremely few. 

Druig turned to the child who had been cowering behind him and finally let the shields dissipate. She stared up at him with wide, bleary eyes and trembled, unable to speak. He felt something constrict inside him and he couldn’t bear the weight of it. He couldn’t fathom a child moving on with the memories of such profound violence in her delicate and uncomprehending mind. He bent down slowly and pressed his palm to her forehead.  

The girl’s eyes glowed and faded in a moment. She stared up at him, tiny brows furrowing in confusion. Her expression was blank. 

“Go follow the other villagers,” He ordered gently, her eyes flashed gold and she did as she was told. 

Makkari laid a hand on his shoulder and it took every ounce of strength within him not to fall to his knees.  
 

What did you do? She asked. 

“I wiped her memory of the battle,” He admitted, voice raspy and choked. “She won’t remember what happened to her parents or anything else she saw. I don’t know if that was right. I don’t know if it was okay for me to alter someone’s mind without permission. But no child should ever have to see those things. No one should have to live through that.” Makkari squeezed his shoulder and led him back to the much shorter line of marching forces.  

Heavy losses and an immense number of injuries requiring aid made their progress extremely slow. The fires behind them quietly sunk lower and lower as its borders began to fizzle out, ever-shrinking. They reached the town of Autumna and Thena bid the citizens evacuate further North or West by morning. The army began pitching their tent quarters and setting up bunks as well as tending the countless wounded. The prospects were grim. 

“Druig,” Andgeir’s voice found his ears yet again. What was his sudden obsession? Thought Druig. Months of hating his guts and suddenly the conversations were endless and unavoidable.  

“What?” He asked with less venom than usual. He was too tired for more anger today. 

“I’m making you my second in command.” Andgeir stated. Druig was certain he’d heard wrong. 

“You what?” 

“You’re our most powerful mage and quite possibly the smartest among them. I need you to head out the research. We need to know what the hell those things were and what kills them. And I need to know if your Cerebremency works on them.”  

For the first time in his life, Druig was speechless. 

“Okay,” He managed, and Andgeir gave him a sharp nod before breezing away, long robes sweeping the floor. 

Druig found Makkari behind the local tavern where she was supposed to be unloading supplies but was instead paralyzed, head bent low where she sat on a barrel she was meant to be relocating. 

“Copper for your thoughts?” He asked and signed when he had cautiously come into her view. 

She looked up at him, and her eyes were different. All the life and bliss and wonder he had known them to hold was gone in an instant. Tears bubbled up and spilled over her long lashes. 

I killed people today, she signed shakily. There were so many of them, and they were willing to hurt anyone. This morning we were joking about where our honeymoon would be and ways to piss off my parents. But the truth is, we’re not going to live that long are we?   

“Makkari,” he tried to cut in. 

We’re going to die out here in one of these fields and our blood will stain the grass and Domo will still fall. It’s all going to be for nothing, she despaired. 

“No,” Druig whispered, gently stroking her hair. “We’ll find a way to stop this. You and me will survive, it’s what we do.” He assured her.  

Makkari moved from the barrel and dropped to her knees in his arms. She sobbed for a long time as he held her and pushed back the weight of his own thoughts for her sake. He held himself together as he consoled her until long after the black of night had settled in. Their bid their farewells and retired to the tents of their respective regiments, and both knew they wouldn’t sleep well apart. 

Makkari bunched up her covers and cried some more until at last, the memories faded into sleep. 

Druig twisted restlessly with the fear that the enemy might attack in the night and no one would remember to wake Makkari, who wouldn’t wake to the sounds. Finally, he settled for tiptoeing across the tightrope of their bond and nestling into her mind. He hoped she wouldn’t mind the intrusion into her dreams, but it afforded him that comfort that if anything occurred, he could pulse alertness into her brain and allow her to wake up in time to fight. His concerns were assuaged instantly when he wandered in, her conscious wrapping around him like a tight hug. He knew he was welcome here, and despite their distance, this connection they had built made them feel close. It was a comforting thought, that no matter where they each were in the world, they could always come home to each other like this. There would be no such thing as separation between them, it was concept alien to their unique love, a pain that affected only outsiders. 

With this relieving revelation, he burrowed deep into her troubled psyche for memories of peace and calm and held her there, respited. 

******************************************************************************Day 10 

The army had fought two more battles and retreated further inward with even sharper losses. No couriers survived, so a young and inexperienced soldier was dispatched back to the capitol to inform Queen Ajak of their dire situation with the message from Thena that their forces were woefully inadequate. They had heard back not long after that a voluntary army had been initiated, with several thousand citizens answering the call. Untrained, they would be nothing but cannon fodder, distraction if they were lucky. 

Upon their last battle, several soldiers had lugged one of the Deviant monsters back to their makeshift camp for Druig to study. He was consumed with research by Andgeir’s side, but they were despairingly vacant of research materials and the rare books that might hold answers were under lock and key at far-flung libraries with no one brave enough to deliver the goods. 

“Best I can see, they’re animated, perhaps some kind of fiendish bastardization utilizing actual animals,” Druig mused, exasperated. 

“Fine. We don’t know what they are or how they’re made. But we know fire kills them, as does stabbing them at vital points, and you believe they are, in fact, sentient. So,” Andgeir slammed the useless tome he’d scoured countless times, “Can you control them?” 

Druig groaned and pinched his nose to staunch a persistent headache.  

“I don’t know. They’re sentient-ish. It seems they have similar awareness to an animal without the instinctual need to kill for food, rather they just kill regardless.” 

“Tell me about your experience controlling animals. How much have you succeeded in that?” 

Druig sighed heavily. “Made some feral strays into pets? Controlled a cow to let me milk it once? Or rather, to let me try, then I gave up and made its owner do it for me.” 

Andgeir’s eyes narrowed. “So you can do it?” 

“Maybe!” Druig exclaimed. “If you’re willing to put a force of soldiers behind me to corner one long enough for me to try. And no guarantees it works at all, let alone the first time.” 

“That works for me.” Andgeir replied coolly. “I’ll let Thena know.”  

“Why do you suddenly have so much trust and faith in me? Where the hell did that come from?” 

 Andgeir gave him a long, hard look. 

“Druig, it’s no secret that I don’t like you. I hate your arrogant attitude and I didn’t trust you. When I found you, we had to tear you away from an entire town you were holding hostage. You were a child of immense power with a faulty moral compass and that made you a significant threat. But we’re at war now, and we’re in dire straits. We don’t have the luxury of moral superiority or doubt anymore. There is simply nothing else I can do. People’s lives are at stake, and you have the power to help. It is all I can do to believe you can and will rise to the occasion. I will not condemn innocent lives for my personal disdain. Besides, I’ve kept a close eye on you since you came to the castle. I’ve seen you with that knight, and I’ve heard from the experiences of others how you’ve changed in that time. Perhaps my initial assessment was inaccurate. Somewhere in there, it seems you care quite a lot. If my previous second in command were here, she’d tell me ‘the ability to love is in everyone. Those who take the opportunity are fundamentally changed’. ” 

“Who was she?” Druig found himself asking softly. 

“My wife. Takeira. She was exceptionally gifted, like you. The epidemic a couple years ago took her, the same one that took Sprite’s parents. That reminds me, I hear congratulations are in order.” Andgeir looked at Druig knowingly, momentary anguish in his expression quickly buried. 

“I’m sorry to hear that. And- well, it’s complicated. I didn’t really plan for the news to be so public.” 

“Unfortunate timing. But I'm sure you’ll both pull through. Don’t you have a meeting with Thena about now?” Andgeir added suddenly. 

“Shit,” Druig was out the door and thankful for the excuse to leave.  

It was the highlight of his days now. Thena had expressed a desire to learn Makkari’s sign language, but after the first battle they had realized how vital it could be to create a system of signaling plans and movements that didn’t need to be heard over the din of battle nor understood by the enemy. Since then, Makkari had been giving private lessons to Thena wherever possible and she and Druig both had been developing and teaching what they deemed ‘battle signs’ or ‘big signs’ to the army. With their separate units and training, which both had thrown themselves wholly into like never before, it was the only time apart from meals they got to see each other. 

******************************************************************************Day 11 

They attacked in the night, just as Druig had feared. Luckily, a cannon blast near Makkari’s tent- precisely on top of and slaughtering the inhabitants of the neighboring tent in fact- had woken her with harrowing shake.  

When the fighting broke out, Druig had run straight for her. Chaos had erupted as the unprepared and exhausted recruits grabbed their weapons and many were forced to forego their armor as the fighting came to them. Druig sent flames, lightening and anything else he could think of at swaths of Deviants on his way to her, covering their own army.  

When he found her, she was being cornered between a Deviant beast and several soldiers. In a moment of panic, some distance away, he cast a speed spell that was usually reserved for inanimate objects on her lithe form.  

Makkari felt the change immediately spread through her. She turn her gaze momentarily to see Druig headed straight for her. Her limbs felt electric. She felt like she could do anything. Her heartrate was impossible. She had no idea how long the quickening feeling would last, so she made use of it. 

She moved at speeds that were, for the first time her life, truly supernatural. This was often said of her in a hyperbolic sense, but now she was truly divinely powered. Druig saw her form digress into nothing more than a glowing blur as she dispatched the soldier and attacked the monster with a flurry of blows it couldn’t begin to track. It was as incredible as it was frightening. He reached out and attempted to take control of the beast as he’d promised Andgeir he’d try. 

Its mind was feral and wicked. Nothing but pure, violent impulse, and its force of will was strong. His eyes glowed bright gold and he threw every ounce of his attention and power into ravaging the beast. No one was watching his back, he was unsure if he would be able to succeed before taking a sword to the neck, but nonetheless he pressed into its primal psyche and grabbed hold with everything he had. 

His body shook and something dripped from his nose, but he could feel his hold lock into place, wrangling the monster’s will. He tore through its mind in bursts of pure energy, and its screeches told the damage was landing. In a few seconds, it was dead on the ground- from one of Makkari’s blows or his attacks no one could tell.  

He felt the beast die and was released from the effort. A precursory sleeve across his face revealed the strange dripping feeling from his nose had been blood. 

Makkari and he escaped with the retreating forces into the woods, Makkari at a normal pace again. Her chest hurt first, heart adjusting back to the appropriate rhythm. Soon though, everything was hurting. It felt like her skin was being torn apart. She tried to keep moving, Druig at her side, but her muscles felt like liquid and her shaky knees gave out suddenly. 

“Makkari!” Druig shouted, bending to help her. “What’s wrong? Oh gods, this is the spell I cast isn’t?” He signed furiously as he mouthed the words. 

I think so, Makkari managed. It was awesome while it lasted.  

Bullshit, I just broke the inexhaustible Makkari Tilborn! Druig signed angrily, running a hand through his hair. “Your muscles couldn’t withstand that kind of insane movement speed so now they’re giving out. They’ve probably all been shredded, you must be in so much pain and- oh my gods,” a look of unspeakable dread crossed his features, eyes widening. “Your heart. Oh my gods, I could have killed you. I’m lucky your heart didn’t give out. I could have killed you.” His breath seemed caught in his chest, too shallow and quick. 

Druig, she signed quickly to stop his spiral. You saved me! It worked, and we killed one of those monsters. We need to keep doing it.  

“You think I’m going to do that to you again? Are you nuts? ” She knew Druig was shouting because she could feel the vibrations from his voice. 

We have to take risks. I can stand it. My muscles will grow and improve, and then I’ll be stronger. If anyone can survive that spell and become strong enough to manage it, it’s me, right? I’m the fastest person in Domo.  

Druig forced her onto his back and ran to catch up with one of the army wagons barreling away. When he’d flagged them down and managed to get them both inside, he turned to Makkari and signed, We’re tabling this conversation for now.   

They survived the night once again, Druig gently massaging Makkari’s sore limbs and alternating cold and hot presses on the achiest bits. Makkari, persistent as always, told Thena about the revelation and convinced them all to let her train to keep using the new ability. She wore Druig down, her force of will stronger than his fears. 

Makkari Tilborn had been a force to be reckoned with before the speed enhancement, but this level up cemented her title thereafter as The Bladed Blur, a moniker she took great pride in. 

****************************************************************************  

Day 30 

They had once again attacked in the middle of the night. 

This time, though, the army had been hidden deep in the woods, waiting and praying for the volunteer reinforcements to arrive. They’d been chased for days inland by an ever-encroaching border. They were losing Domo by the day, sometimes the hour, splitting up for increasingly miniscule regiments fighting on multiple fronts.  

It was a bloodbath. After several days of retreat, with the Deviants always catching up to terrorize them again, the entire army was exhausted, paranoid, and morale was at an all-time low. Rations were starting to thin as well now that supply lines were increasingly cut off, and whispers were spreading amongst the ranks. Were they of fear? Desertion? Mutiny? Druig tried not to listen. He didn’t want to know. If it weren’t for Makkari, he’d be tempted himself. 

This was the backdrop when the Deviants attacked yet again. It was either flee for their lives, leaving behind all their gear- their tents and cots and rations and bonus weapons stores, etc- or stay and fight, out-manned, weary, and petrified.  

Though the orders were clear and there was enough time to dress in armors this time, the choice of the soldiers were not unified. Some fled into the trees, some escaped and hid while others were followed by cackling Deviant soldiers or blood thirsty beasts and struck down with their backs turned. Many others got back into formation and attempted to protect the camp, not believing there was a good chance to truly fend them off. Druig could feel their thoughts, many believed this would be their last stand. Despite the fear and anguish, they fought like it was their last, valiant and reckless and with far more power than should have been physically possible.  

Nonetheless, Thena and Andgeir made the call to retreat again, this time into the nearby caves which had been inhabited by the ancient ancestors. They could seal themselves into the labyrinths and take refuge for a few days, some even knew where there were outlets further in so they could not be surrounded. This kind of knowledge was the only thing that could save them from the Deviants now- the home court advantage. 

Andgeir had Druig spelling the equipment and defending the soldiers as they struck the tents and moved out everything they could at frantic pace. Druig’s mind and powers were everything as always in this overstimulating war- multi-tasking with lives at stake was a daily occurrence, and not one he’d trained for. He worked on the spells to carefully as possible take down and move the equipment between fireballs and blow-back spells and occasional heart-stopper curse when enemies got too close. He hated killing the enemy army, even as they viciously attacked him. It felt disgusting, like he could feel their sticky, wet blood on his hands even as he could kill a man without spilling a drop of it. And he was so tired, his mental wards starting to break down, meaning every feeling and thought of every person on the battlefield was leaking into his mind... 

All the while, his eyes flashed every few seconds, distractedly searching for Makkari. He had to make sure she was okay. He would find her, find her heartbeat and her conscious fighting for its life, but everything looked too similar to know exactly where she was, and that horrified him. More frustratingly, their battle signs were practically useless in situations like this- in the dark, far away from each other, countless obstructions making it too hard to signal even where lighting was fair. His attention slipped as he sought her again, and a large pole from the tent came down, nearly skewing one of their own men. 

“Druig! Stop searching for her!” Andgeir barked, clearly aware of his faults. 

“B-but-!” 

“We need you here! She can handle herself!” 

Druig did as he was bid, feel a sharp stab of worry in his gut as he retracted the connection and focused his attention. They grabbed everything they could and retreated to the cliffs. The Deviant army was upon them, culling the soldiers at the back like fish in a barrel. They simply didn’t have time to follow the narrow and perilous path down.  

“Make your own way down!” Thena ordered, gracefully descending the steep hundred-foot decline one rock leap to the next. Druig caught his first glimpse of Makkari as she was the first to follow suit, and breathed a sigh of relief as she managed the way down with equal leisure. Hers eyes searched around in the darkness and landed on Druig, who nodded to her. She felt a tight coil in her stomach and suddenly wished she hadn’t come down to readily. How was he going to get down? It was impossible to go back up. 

Some soldiers were half-sliding down on their shields, others risking the jump with varying degrees of success, which was to say, varying injuries from broken arms or legs to cracked skulls. 

“Mages!” Andgeir called. “Featherfall on yourselves and help others as you get down!” He turned to Druig. “You and me, everyone else.” 

“ Everyone else? ” Druig echoed in disbelief.  

“As many as you can.” He turned to the remaining soldiers. “Everyone jump! We’ve got you!” 

The fighters began jumping en masse. It was traumatizing. Every sickening crunch of a soldier missed forced Druig to push his power further, to expand it across the region instead of localized spots like mages were taught. Quickly, the tide turned, hundreds of soldiers floating harmlessly to the ravine below. Thena was ushering them to the caves, gathering rocks and anything else that could be used to form the barricade that would seal them inside. Several thousand poured through as Deviant army ran for them. Druig’s attention was entirely on the falling friendly soldiers until a horrifying sound stole his attention.  

“Argh!” 

He turned too late to the see the Deviant soldier who had caught up to Andgeir and sunk his blade straight through his chest.  

“No!” Druig screamed, and wrenched the soldier’s mind from his grasp. The man was choking on his own blood, weapons sunk deep into himself before he could realize what had occurred. Druig grabbed Andgeir frantically and leapt from the cliff, casting the momentum-slowing spell on them both. Blood poured from Andgeir’s gaping would as they sank perilously slowly. It felt like an eternity before they finally landed, and Druig dragged him to the cave’s entrance with every ounce of stamina he had left. Andgeir was deathly pale and gasping for breath.  

“Where are the healers?” Druig yelled, watching the barricade continue to stack up. 

“They’re all further in, treating the soldiers.” Thena stated, her brow unnaturally furrowed. 

“Leader’s always take precedence, get one over here!” He screamed, attempting to hold Andgeir’s wound shut manually.  

“D-Dru-ig,” Andgeir started.  

“Hold it together old man, save your energy.” He reprimanded, shaking as he waited for the help that everyone knew would not arrive. 

“I’m done for, Darach,” Andgeir rasped, looking surprisingly peaceful as the life spilled out of him. “You- you have to take charge.” 

“Don’t you fucking joke with me right now,” Druig growled, tears of frustration starting to pool in his eyes. Makkari appeared in the corner of his vision and placed a hand on his shoulder, but it was too late. Not even she could protect him from the tragedy that was unfolding. 

“You have t-to do this. You’re the strongest one here, probably the smartest too.” 

“You can’t be fucking serious!” He yelled, tears mixing with the blood on his hands as he stared at the ever-widening pool of red around Andgeir. “I’m a misanthropic researcher universally hated by the recruits. I have the least experience in the Corps- I can’t fucking do this! ” Druig exclaimed, feeling the world spin around him. His blood was pumping in his ears, his vision blurred and he couldn’t breathe.  

Makkari watched it all from beside him, feeling the spikes of agony and panic shoot from Druig’s psyche into her own. He was losing his grip, and had she really read Andgeir’s lips correctly? Andgeir, who had wanted him executed, now telling him to lead the Corps? She looked helpless to Thena, who answered her question about medical aides without a word. He was going to die. There was no chance of saving him now.  

The barricade continued to pile, nearing the top now. Druig looked up to see the Deviant forces crowded around the edge of the cliff, some making their way down now. In a pulse of rage, he blasted out a wave of power and made scores of them jump to their doom and anguishing shout. 

"Druig,” Andgeir said with all the remaining force he could manage, “You are Ajak's son. Arishem's grandson. Blood of the magically potent clan Eternalis, and heir to two thrones. You were born to be a leader, and you will be." Blood began to trickle out of his mouth as he finished saying it, his eyes starting to cloud. 

“I can’t, they all hate me,” Druig begged, pleading Andgeir to see reason.  

“I see her,” Andgeir whispered, pulse growing faint. “My Takeira. Home,-” he barely breathed the last word, his jaw going slack. The final stone was placed at the mouth of the cave, blocking out all intruders for a considerable amount of time. Mages cast a protection spell to prevent breakthrough for at least several days. Andgeir’s eyes were empty; his pulse and breath had ceased. 

Druig let the man fall from his hands and began aggressively wiping the blood on his ropes. He was shaking all over and he couldn’t think straight. His lungs were on fire. He- 

He was up and pacing before he even realized. The world was ending. It was over for all of them. If Druig was handed control of an entire segment of the army, they were definitely all going to die. He never should have let them take him to the castle. He should’ve fought until they killed him when they kidnapped him months ago. He should’ve died like his father wanted him to all those years ago. Better yet, he should’ve just gone along with Baine when he leapt from that stool and made a grave from that branch. He should never have- 

Makkari’s hand was on his should again, squeezing his focus back to the present. She was trying to pull him in, to get his attention, but he pushed her away. 

“I can’t do this,” He choked, replying to the tail of whatever monologue she had been signing. 

You can, Druig. He was right, you can do this. Makkari assured him.  

“I’m a mess, and I'm self-centered, and I have no military experience before this fucking month,” He retorted.  

That’s not true. You’re strong, you’re just, and you’re good, but most importantly, she shook his shoulders and tightened her hands like vises around his arms to ensure he was listening when she finished. You are a survivor . That is what we all need most right now. Your instincts. They don’t have to like you, Dru. They just need to respect you, and you have the power to make them.  

Druig felt his breath return to him. He didn’t want to believe it, and he knew it was going to be the hardest thing he’d ever done, but the look of utter, complete faith and loyalty Makkari was giving him produced a sense of misplaced confidence somewhere inside him. Maybe it was time to finally accept who he was. Who he was, was not a frightened farm boy in the backward village of Heimrehill with the town drunk for a father. That was the circumstance that made him, but who he was, at the end of the day, could simply be summarized in one word. Powerful. 

Makkari cupped him face and pulled his forehead down to hers. They stayed that way for a while, until Druig wrapped her in a tight embrace and pulled away, looking stoic. 

“I have to go address my soldiers. Stay by my side tonight. I need you close.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, then made off to find his troops, Thena following briskly behind. 

******************************************************************************Day 30, Later 

The announcement had gone about as well as expected, which is to say there was a lot of shouting and panic and many accused Druig of lying. Thena then produced a document which was apparently Andgeir’s contingency plan, handwritten, signed, and sealed with his own family crest, silencing that form of dissent but certainly not the residual anger. Druig had maintained a stony expression as Thena read them the riot act and made sure they knew their lives were now in Druig’s hands, so they’d better put some faith in following him. Druig was needing some help putting any faith in himself.  

He and Thena then spent the next several hours poring over maps and strategies to form a plan of action from tomorrow. He knew things needed to change, and they were in dire need of some desperate measures, so he set some mages to the task of developing an advanced form of shield magic to use on their camps at night, and if possible, a moveable shield they could travel (and more importantly, retreat) with. Thena handled rationing and battle formations to make use of their few advantages.  

Soldiers set up the accommodations for the night, though with shelter from the cave, the majority of the troops chose to simply set up their bunks and crash. Thena’s and Andgeir’s tents were set up, personal quarters befitting their stations. Druig hesitated before entering Andgeir’s tent, which Thena had reminded him was now his own. It felt like just another blow to his reputation with the recruits, but he frankly needed the personal space. He was running on empty, devoid of the ability to keep up his social graces or leaderly affectation. He was exhausted, and he needed Makkari. He needed a place to take off the mask, to collapse and be comforted and process everything that had changed, all the responsibility now on his shoulders. He needed her.  

And when he opened the tent’s flap, there she was already, leisurely sitting at the edge of Andgeir’s- his- new double bed, kicking her feet absent-mindedly. Feeling his approach, she looked up.  

Druig’s entire demeanor crumbled the moment he entered the room. His proud posture had vanished, his neutral expression melting into one of bereft anxiety. He crossed the room in a moment, and Makkari thought he would sit beside her. Instead, he collapsed at her feet and laid his head in her lap, looking lost and defeated. 

Druig reckoned he must have appeared pathetic, but he didn’t cry. Makkari didn’t seem to notice, she simply stroked his hair, fingers brushing through the messy tresses. They stayed like that for a while, until Druig felt sufficiently human-like again and lifted his head.  

Do you need to be held this time? Makkari signed, a soft smile on her lips.  

Yes, he signed weakly, not bothering to speak when it felt like he no longer could. Makkari drew him up onto the bed and helped him out of his outer armor. She gave his shoulders a short-lived massage, and Druig relaxed for the first time that day. Her hands felt good. Safe. He pulled her forehead to his and pushed gratitude through their connection where words failed him.  

Makkari thought about the almost-kiss for umpteenth time that month. She loved him. She’d been determined to tell him in fact, to do something about it. But now it seemed everything was different, and it felt wrong to bring it up. He was already so distressed, starting something new and changing the rules of their relationship seemed difficult. And things didn’t feel the way they had just a month ago- the light seemed to have left both their eyes. The mischievousness was gone. The desire for romance and fun had faded and in its place were two disillusioned, empty people who just wanted enough comfort to survive.  

As they settled into bed, Druig signed to her again. 

I forgot to tell you, Thena says you’re my bodyguard now. She wants you to stick to me in battle. Since I’m important and dying would send the Mage Corps into a tailspin now. So I guess that means we can watch each other's backs more easily from now on.  

Makkari wordlessly nodded and nestled him into her chest, caressing him with featherlight, soothing gestures as he had on the night when she’d needed him most. She liked this new mission. She was glad to protect him. Afterall, “when you love something, you protect it. It is the most natural thing in the world.” It was something Thena had said to her, and it suddenly made sense in a very new way. Yes, she would protect him. And for once, she could be patient too. 

******************************************************************************Day 33 

It hadn’t taken long for the cracks to show. The ranks held together whilst they were in the deep dark tunnels, but on their first night back in the fresh air, emerging somewhere near Druig’s hometown of Heimrehill in the south east, the resentments came to a head. 

It all began with a ghost from Druig’s past. 

They were holed up in the town’s tavern, and no one was drinking merrily. Some heavily, sure, but none with any semblance of joy.  

A cloaked man had wandered in, and when he lifted his hood, his eyes landed straight on Druig. Raefe. Of course, it would have to be Raefe. 

Raefe’s eyes glistened with rage and he made his way to him slowly, as if savoring it. 

“Well, if it isn’t the almighty Darach,” Raefe hissed. 

“Sorry, you must be drunk. Have me confused with someone else.” Druig retorted icily, turning back to Makkari. Her eyes were dark; she remembered him from Druig’s memories. 

“Tell me, Darach, what have you been up to since you left our pleasant little corner of hell?” 

Thena sat up a bit straighter in her seat. “Captaining the Royal Mage Corps in the war to save our country from colonization.” She spat, raising a challenging brow. 

Raefe laughed a humorless, scoffing laugh. “Someone put Druig, this Druig, in charge of human lives? Our country at stake? Well, well, looks like he never can resist the urge to use those powers, can he? Or is your secret witch mother really that powerful?” His voice was very intentionally loud enough to be heard by all in the room. 

Thena opened her mouth to intercede, probably to defend that he had not, in fact, used his powers to obtain the position, but Druig’s instinctual rebuttal beat her to it. 

“No need to bring up what your mother was prolific for, I presume?” 

Raefe’s hands slammed down on the table and he leaned in Druig’s face, red with hate. 

“My mother is dead! ” He screamed. “Along with damn near everyone else in Heimrehill. So where were you then, hero? Where were you when your village of puppets was razed to the ground?!” Makkari rose, instantly ready for a fight, but Druig held her back.  

“Saving everyone else’s lives on the battlefield against a different leg of the Deviant Army,” One mage piped up bravely. 

“Saving lives?” Raefe laughed again. “Just how did he get this position anyway?” 

“A good man died, and chose to leave it to him,” Thena growled. 

“Died? How convenient. You know his father mysteriously perished too, leaving him in quite a more pleasant position. Have none of you considered whether he arranged this outcome?” 

“He’s right!” Another mage chimed in, suddenly rising at the opportunity. “I’ve been wondering ever since the day it happened. Andgeir hated him. And he hated Andgeir from day one. He’s done nothing but goof off since he got to the castle, and we all know the rumors about the things he did. It’s strange the queen would never let anyone punish him, too!” 

“Oh, they’re not rumors. I know exactly the evil things this Darach is capable of.” Raefe seethed. Makkari slammed into him, pushing him backward. He couldn’t read her signs, sure, but she was flinging just about every expletive in the book at him. “What’s this now?” Raefe asked, eyeing her. “Using your powers to take advantage of innocent little disabled women now?” 

Makkari moved to hit him, but Druig was faster. Reeling in every ounce of restraint he had, he grabbed Raefe by the collar and dealt with him in the most diplomatic way he could muster. 

“Leave, now,” Druig snarled, eyes glowing yellow, “before I remind you just what I’m capable of.” Druig dropped the impetuous fool and he went running out the tavern door, not to be seen again. 

“He has a point,” another soldier said. “I’ve seen that girl leaving his tent every night. And they spent all their time at the castle together, from the first night he arrived.” 

Druig felt a boiling hatred well within him at the insinuation that he would use his powers to manipulate women, as well as the interpretation that Makkari was merely sleeping her way to the top. He turned to face the entire group of soldiers in the room and set the record straight. 

“Makkari is my bodyguard, unless or until one of you manages the capability to incapacitate hundreds of enemy soldiers at once and you can take my place. She is also my betrothed. I secured her hand by her parents’ permission the day before we left for war, this you can easily corroborate.” 

 
“The day before leaving? Why, because you planned on taking control?” One haughty soldier asked.  

“Because we might both die,” Druig snapped, half telling the truth. “I am well aware I am not popular amongst this group. I never intended to hold this position. Now that you all find yourselves in my care, I have every intention of trying everything in my power to win this war. I know we haven’t had the opportunity to earn trust, but I need you to give it anyway. Thena and I are working on a way out of this.” 

“It’s true,” another mage chimed in. “They haven’t led us wrong yet, and he’s the most powerful among us, no one can deny that!”  

“Bullshit!” The first mage cursed back. “One of our own could lead better, any of us could! We survived three days in a cave, so what? His recklessness is going to get everyone killed. We need to replace him!” 

Makkari, moved into a protective position, just as shouts could be heard outside. Thena cursed from beside them. 

“I have to go make sure it’s not the Deviants.” She clasped Druig’s should hard. “Fix this.” 

Things got physical quickly. Suddenly mages and soldiers were brawling everywhere with a difference of opinion. In the fray, they almost didn’t see one of the dissenting mages emerge from the crowd and make a move to lurch at Druig with a dagger. Almost. 

He was on the ground, choking as blood gushed from his throat in a flash. Makkari’s dripping blade was lowered, and her eyes glanced around the room, which silently dispersed into a crowd of gawkers at the sight of the mage’s corpse. Her hands were shaking, eyes wide and feral. She could feel her heartbeat in every pore. 

Druig stared at her. She looked somewhere between righteous and nauseas. She looked back at him, and he was satisfied the mutiny was settled. He needed to get her out of here.  

“Any more questions?” He shouted, eyes not leaving hers. “I expect there will be no further arguments on this matter.” Thena stepped back inside the front door and saw the body first. 

“There’s no attack.” She eyed Druig and Makkari and surmised the events that had transpired. “Someone get this man out of here.” His fellow rabble-rousers did so, looking whipped. “And someone get this tavern keep a beer,” Thena added, noticing the owner crouched behind the bar in terror. 

Druig waited a moment for the men to carry the dead mage out and the majority of soldiers to file out for their beds before gently taking Makkari’s hand and leading her back to their tent. 

He sat her down on the bed and knelt to see how she was. He was awed to be sure- he wasn’t sure if he should feel pride that she would kill for him, or horror someone so good had been corrupted to commit such an act just for the likes of him. 

“Thank you,” He whispered, not expecting a response. Her eyes looked wet; her conflicted expression belied the internal battle she was waging. She’d only been killing for a month now, always in life-or-death situations when the enemy came to her. This time had been friendly fire. This time it had been for personal reasons.  

I don’t feel guilty, she admitted, looking fearful. But I didn’t know I was capable of that.  

It was true, and as she said it the realization seemed to dawn on her. The conflict had dissipated and in its place was a sheer and total loss of innocence. The war’s transformation of her was complete. Her shoulders slumped and her head fell, but she did not cry.  

For the first time since he had met her, Druig had no idea how to help or what to say. Searching their bond, he came to the conclusion that were simply nothing he could do. The change had occurred quietly, inescapably and of her own volition. A knot churned in his gut with the knowledge that something had been irreparably lost. He slept beside her again that night, but she felt a million miles away. 

***************************************************************************** 

Day 46 

In the days that followed, Druig was like a wire drawn too taut, ready to snap at any moment. Even so, he managed to conceal his stress, only breaking character when he climbed into bed with Makkari each evening for a much-needed rest. They continued to avoid any subject of the once distracting feelings they had for one another, consumed with their daily tasks, expectations, and the ever-present threat of death. 

New recruits had arrived, along with many healers and volunteer medics without magic, a new addition thanks to the dire circumstances. With hundreds or even thousands of injured soldiers per day, the healers could simply not keep up, so medics were taught to intervene and triage warriors whose injuries weren’t fatal or could wait with minimal care.  

In addition, Phastos had created a wicked new invention that was leveling the playing field against the Deviant Army. They were black powder launchers, creating localized explosions where the wielder aimed. They took down plenty of enemies, but just as easily killed comrades in the wrong place and some of the materials to make them were hard to come by. Thus, they were in high demand and short supply. Nonetheless, the Royal Army of Domo had started to actually win some battles and gain territory. 

It was on this day, under these improving (if only slightly) conditions that a beautiful volunteer medic made her way to where Druig and Makkari were standing, having just arrived at her new post.  

“You must be Druig and Makkari!” The cheerful, dark-haired woman said. Druig froze. He had never met this woman, but he certainly recognized her well enough. 

Who the hell is this? Makkari asked. 

“Sersei,” Druig extrapolated. “Ikaris’ Sersei.” The woman’s face soured. 

“Well, not quite anymore.” She replied a little curtly. 

Ooh, strike one. Makkari signed. 

“Oh. Sorry. Well, he’s an asshole and didn’t deserve you anyway.” Druig replied awkwardly. 

“Too right. He threw the most monumental fit that I wanted to come out here, especially considering how mopey he’s been that Ajak won’t let him come and fight. But I had to. People need help, and it’s not like my family farm had any shortage of siblings to work it just fine without me. I had to do something, and unlike him, I don’t have a country to run so no one’s stopping me.” Sersei explained, chin high. 

I like her, Makkari signed with a grin. 

“Makkari says she likes you. If we’re going to be friends you have to learn to sign though, it’s way too hard to get spare paper and ink out here every day just so Makkari can make observations about whacking things with her swords.”  

Makkari glared at him. Or about wanting to whack people.  

“That too.” 

“That sounds brilliant! I’d love to learn!” Sersei exclaimed, clearly enthused.  

And learn she did. Over the following weeks, Sersei slotted in with their friend group easily. It was insane to believe she’d once saddled herself with Ikaris, but all supposed it must have simply been her unerringly kind nature looking for a passion project. Ikaris had truly been an imbecile to let her go, it seemed, for she was sweet, funny, and a force of goodness to be reckoned with. Sersei saved hundreds of lives with her quick study of medicine, and made short work of befriending Makkari by studying sign language intently. She and Thena practiced incessantly to pick it up more quickly, and in no time Makkari had a support system of easy communication stronger than ever. Druig was happy to see her with female friends, able to discuss freely things she wouldn’t have thought to bring up with him, and actually smiling again from time to time. He learned a lot, mostly about the female body, from observing their rapid-fire conversations. He figured the information would eventually come in handy, so he simply contained his shock and filed the knowledge away for later, minding his business.  

On those quiet days, when she was smiling like the sun again, chatting with the girls or training to her hearts content, a tiny spark of the warmth from before would bloom in him. A seed of hope that maybe this would all end one day, and when it did, they might be able to pick up where they left off before.  

All good things come to an end though, and when the war took a turn for the worse again, the flicker of joy and hope expired in all of them. Villages burned, children were slaughtered, and the Deviants continued to march inward, devastating Domo once pure landscape with ash and blood. 

******************************************************************************Day 59 

It was a mistake. It was a mistake. He’d ruined everything, and now it would never be the same again. Makkari was never going to love him again. He was sure of it. She was always distant after that, and he buried the agony that followed that truth in the emptiness that threatened to swallow him whole. He would just have to turn everything off and pretend it didn’t matter. He couldn’t let loneliness engulf him this time, not when so many people were depending on him. 

******************************************************************************Day 563 

Eighty percent of the country was under Celestia occupation by Deviants on the day they arrived. 

Thousands of residents had been evacuated to the far overcrowded capitol, and letters from home had grown sparse. It was a tense time for everyone, and their forces were looking exceedingly slim, holding out in strongholds underneath the central plains and surviving mostly on guerilla warfare.  

The familiar form walked towards them from the horde of new volunteers, slinging their hood back to reveal a proud, pinched little face that had no business being there on the front lines. 

“Good evening, losers. I heard you needed some help.” Sprite purred. 

“Get your pint-sized ass back on that cart and go back to castle Domo,” Druig snapped. “I’m the General now, so that’s my call to make.” 

What the hell are you doing here? Makkari signed frantically. 

“Oh, we’re doing child soldiers now?” Thena asked. “Absolutely not. Go home and bring back Gilgamesh, at least he’ll be useful.” 

“Would anyone mind explaining who this...spirited young one is?” Sersei asked politely. 

“You must be that milkmaid Ikaris was boinking, huh?” Sprite asked, delicate as ever. 

“Lovely.” Sersei replied, averting her gaze and shutting her mouth tightly. 

“Look, guys, I’m almost seventeen now. I could get married if I wanted to. Doesn’t that make me old enough to fight for my country when it’s in peril? Ajak said I could-” 

“Like hell did Ajak give you permission.” Druig cut in. “She only sends me letters every chance she gets complaining about you constantly pestering about this.” 

“Okay, so maybe I gave myself permission. But I’m older now. And I’ve been practicing. I’m stronger than you could ever believe, Druig. Let me join the Corps. My primary discipline is still illusion magic, so I’ll stay out of the line of sight and help you guys from afar, alright? I can do this. I know the Mage Corps has been getting smaller and smaller. People can’t just pick up magic like they can swing a sword and hope for the best. I’m the only backup you have. Please, let me help.” Sprite plead.  

Druig chewed the inside of his cheek. They were right.  Their ranks were disturbingly small and highly spread out across the major battle fronts. The army needed every single mage they could get. And Sprite was older now. Plus, they’d lived through the war. They’d been robbed of their childhood already. 

“Are you really considering this?” Thena asked incredulously.  

Druig, Makkari signed. Are you sure?  

“They’re right. We’re desperate.” He admitted. “Fine, you can stay. But you’re bunking with Thena, I don’t want you around all these adults unsupervised. And you will follow my orders, without fail or complaint, including staying out of sight.” Sprite smiled wildly.  

“Pleasure doing business with you.” 

“Oh dear.” Sersei added. “What an adventure this will be.” 

******************************************************************************Day 640 

The days that followed became known as the “good ole days”. They spent months saving lives, fighting for territory, merrymaking in whatever standing tavern they came across. Sprite had followed the rules laid out by Druig. Shenanigans were had, friendships solidified. And then, just a month previous, Sersei had been sent away to another front. 

The regiment she was traded to had lost every single one of its mages and healers and was taking heavy losses with its soldiers. Sersei had garnered such a reputation as an angel of the battlefield that Thena and Ajak had begrudgingly decided they had to send her there lest the front completely crumble.  

There had been many tears and laughs and hugs on the day she left, even Druig had felt his eyes sting a little. He would miss her. He would worry after her. He still could not believe she was crazy enough to ever put up with Ikaris. But from her letters, it seemed she had met a new lad in her new regiment, a slightly goofy but kind and powerful solider named Dane who was no joke with a sword. They were all glad she was doing so well. 

The war in general, however, was not going well. Druig had surmised that some rare material, a gemstone native to Celestia, was necessary to create the Deviant beasts and they had become less and less frequent in battles and (primarily he and Makkari) slew them one by one. The Deviant’s regular army was no less relentless, still far too many in number, but certainly thinning. Both sides were growing tired, taking exceptional losses, but Domo had had so few to begin with. Druig and Thena worked desperately to grasp any meager advantage they could, but the Deviants were circling the entire country, ever-pressing inward to the central capital. They were fighting on too many fronts, and did not have the luxury of a seemingly infinite number of troops and citizens like Celestia. Only one country had agreed to fight with Domo and attempt to pincer that line of Deviants to create a small corridor for escape of civilians and supplies from abroad. The rest of their neighbors twiddled their thumbs in fear at the risk of incurring Arishem’s inevitable ire. Druig scorned them with rage; they were short-sighted fools. They would know Domo’s pain soon enough. 

So it was that on day 640 (Druig had been keeping studious track in his journal), the Western front fell. They were still fighting on the main Southern front, and of course the news did not reach them before the second line of the Deviant army did, surrounding them. They were too far inland, too desperate to retreat, so they had to fight, despite their astoundingly inferior forces. It so happened that they were in the plains, of course, and for once not near a village that would be eviscerated and send hundreds of innocents fleeing. Normally, that would be a good thing, but today, attacked from multiple angles with no cover whatsoever, it spelled doom.  

Sprite was unused to being directly in the fray. Their illusions were successful much of the time, confusing soldiers and particularly Deviant monsters, but they had no cover behind which to hide their machinations, and they could not conjure images to beguile from every direction at once. They made themselves invisible instead as they wove their intimidating and bewildering pictures, and Druig, Makkari, and Thena all hoped this was enough, unable to tear any focus away from their blight of enemies. 

It wasn’t. Everything happened so quickly.  

The enemy general must have been made aware of Sprite from previous battles. In the fray, he knew to look. He didn’t need to see Sprite’s small form, he pinpointed the source of the images, a sort of magical trail they were unable to hide from every angle. He must’ve come straight for them. 

It was a sudden, terrifying yank on Druig’s consciousness, which he kept ever-so-slightly attached to each of his friends in the event of just such a disaster. Sprite wasn’t cornered though, not in a position where Makkari could run in and dispatch the man before he did damage to them. No. The man’s blade was already at Sprite’s throat, pinning them against him, yanking the blade back deep into their windpipe. Druig’s brain flared an instantaneous alarm at Makkari, telling her just where to look, but in the time it Makkari to simply turn around and glimpse the danger, the man stepped back and- 

The sword swung horizontal as Sprite tumbled forward, hands just beginning to fly up to their gushing, gaping neck, and sliced with a sickening snap-crunch. Sprite’s small, adolescent, spikey-haired head simply fell and rolled, separated from a useless petite form that collapsed in the other direction.  

“No!” Druig found himself yelling, and he wasn’t the only one. A sound so guttural and unnerving escaped Makkari’s usually silent lips as she surged forward, but it was Thena, standing just behind the man, a mere second too late, who ended him.  

An explosion of rage and terror ripped loose from all of them. 

Thena’s weapon glowed gold, gifted a searing cosmic boost of power as Druig cast a temporary spell upon it, then Makkari. He flashed a message in both their minds. We have to end this right now.  

Makkari moved at a speed and proclivity for violence he had not known possible, cleaving through lines of soldiers, kicking up dust that blinded and confused them, knocking them backward by the mere gust that followed her wake. Thena burst into action, slicing through people and beasts like butter, her molten metal glaive rending them all past tense. And Druig- 

Sprite had been a child. A fucking child who just wanted to help people, help their country. The kind of wickedness that could raze villages full of innocents and commit depraved acts such as whacking a kid’s head clean off was unknowable. Unforgiveable.  

They had to die. And Druig had seen too much death. He no longer cared if he went with it.  

Disregarding all sense of self-preservation that would normally have begged to conserve some power, keep some awareness in case of a close martial attack, or worry what permanent damage such an act might reap, Druig reached his hands- and his mind- out across the battlefield. With a pealing scream from his gut, it was like a cloud of unspeakable darkness had flooded the plain. Easily three-quarters of the Deviant army fell suddenly silent and still, while Makkari and Thena ravished the remainder. He squeezed with all his might, and unleashed a torrent of destruction on their feeble minds.  

He screamed until he was hoarse as they fell to their knees, clutching their heads as blood seeped from its orifices. Then, all at once, he stopped, and so did they, dropping mutely to the ground. The once magnificent din of the battle was nothing but empty silence. Druig felt something wet, wiped across his face to discover that he was bleeding too, but it didn’t matter. He couldn’t breathe, even though it was quiet. 

“It’s over,” he whispered, shakily falling to his knees. He was tired, but not dead, maybe not even severely harmed, much to his dismay. There was nothing as he looked over the battlefield littered with fresh corpses and soaked in the blood of thousands. 

 Makkari reached him, her speed boost squandered, the tell-tale signs of the painful after-use effects tugging on her weakened muscles. She tried to wipe the dripping trails of blood from his nose and eyes, though she was more covered in viscera then he. They were both shaking, she realized. But it was over. This battle, at least. 

******************************************************************************Day 640 (night). 

To say they were in pain that night when they crawled into bed wouldn’t even scrape the surface. Their bodies were practically mangled by the violent overuse of that battle, and inside... 

Makkari felt like she’d been scraped clean. Hollowed out. Like every ounce who she once thought she was had been warped or replaced by the horrors of war. Her optimism, her belief in humanity, her hope and joy and mischief- everything that she had once used to define herself was gone. She was unrecognizable. She looked into the mirror after washing the blood off her face and her eyes seemed blur and distort the image. Her head tilted slightly, trying to match the image in the glass.  

Who are you? She signed absent-mindedly, and watching the repeat action of it in her reflection clicked the answer into place. This is me now, she thought. This filthy, empty girl.   

To think a year and half ago her greatest concern was confessing her feelings for Druig. Whether or not it would change things between them. Daydreaming about the freedom they’d both have, married and happy with their own place, their own jobs living comfortably without purpose.  

That felt like pipe dream belonging to a totally different person now.  

Her limbs ached and all of her was caught in some perpetual slight tremble, whether from the vast overuse of her muscles though Druig’s speed spell or the trauma, she couldn’t tell. She climbed into bed slowly, facing Druig but not looking him in the eye.  

They lay like that for a while, silent, before she glanced up to check his face. His eyes focused and unfocused, jaw grinding, like he was phasing in and out of reality, desperately struggling to ground. Finally, he noticed her looking and this broke the spell. He pulled her into his chest- like friends, she supposed, like they used to- and wrapped his arms around her tightly.  

The dam broke.  

Makkari sobbed hard. She couldn’t hear it, but she could tell by that wicked scraping feeling in her throat and heavy vibrations in her chest that she was wailing. Her body wasn’t the only wracked with sobs, she could feel Druig crumbling too. She pulled back, needing to get the words out of her fracturing mind. 

They were just a child...a child...an innocent- Makkari signed frantically. Sprite was too young. They weren’t supposed to die. We were supposed to protect them. Druig, we failed...we killed them...  

All at once, Makkari’s pain was ripped from her soul.  

Her eyes shot up to Druig, who jerked as if he’d been punched in the gut. A sharp, pained exhalation left his lips as he cried and curled inward as if trying to hold all that pain inside him. Her pain.  

The pain that had been rended from her meant nothing, only more took its place when she discovered what he’d done.  

Druig, she signed angrily. Stop it!  

More was pulled. He cried out in agony.  

Druig! She cried, as more and more pain flooded her battered form. There would always be more. He couldn’t steal it from her if he tried.  

“Why isn’t it working? ” He sobbed.  

Because it hurts , Makkari replied, tormented. Because it hurts me to see you in pain. Give it back!  

“I can’t,” he plead. “I can’t watch you suffer, Makkari. And it’s my fault. I let Sprite stay and fight. I should’ve sent them away.” 

Sprite knew what they were doing, and they wouldn’t take no for an answer. We needed them too.   

“I know.” He admitted weakly. 

There’s nothing we can do, she reasoned. It hurts us both too much. We can’t stop it.  

She watched the light fade from his eyes as he closed them and then the flood of emotions came rushing back in like a hurricane. Everything hurt. It was too much to bear, and they were no longer enough to comfort one another. There was no amount of anything that could make it better, not that night. 

So they commiserated, holding one another without relief, until they both cried themselves to sleep. 

When they awoke, things were different. The world was different. So were they. 

******************************************************************************Day 704 

In the days and weeks that followed, Druig and Makkari were more solemn and distant than they’d ever been. Sometimes Makkari took comfort in other men, or women, but always ended up back in his bed before morning. It tugged at some pinching jealousy within him, but he couldn’t fault her. He couldn’t be mad at her- if she had found something that gave her any semblance of relief or distraction from this nightmare, he was happy and wanted her to have it. Heaven knew even if she wanted it to be him, he couldn’t do it then. Any real desire within him was absent, as if it had been burned out of him by loss and guilt. The lovers weren’t what hurt. 

What hurt was the way they never spoke anymore. Sometimes they’d go days without even looking each other in the eye, much less uttering or signing a word. They were perfect strangers, and that felt like a wound. 

Nonetheless, Druig and Makkari had both fallen into complete numbness. Stony-faced Thena, on the other hand, had grown restless and anxious. She ran the army beautifully, and largely successfully, but she was aware just how bad the war effort was looking. Even as the Deviants numbers dwindled, their increasingly desperate measures had them pushing back the front lines in every direction daily. Closer and closer to encircling the capital of Domo, like a human heart Arishem was preparing to ritually tear out.  

It was under this ‘new normal’ that the trio found themselves silently drinking into oblivion on a cold night in a local tavern. No words were uttered or signed, just three malcontent soldiers staring into the middle distance at a table, together only in name. Until a flamboyant bard strode into the room. 

Kingo had planned to set up in the corner and perform his usual, now melancholy set of songs for just enough coin to reach the next town before he saw familiar faces for the first time in almost two years. 

“Makkari?” He asked, but of course she wasn’t looking. It’d been so long he’d even forgotten how to speak to her. “Thena! Druig,” he called out in succession, making his way to their somber table. Their eyes all alight for just a second. 

“Kingo!” They spoke and signed in unison. 

“Our war-hardened heroes live!” Kingo exclaimed, although quieter than he once was. 

“What are you doing out here?” Druig asked. 

“Travelling,” he said sadly.  

But it’s dangerous out here, Makkari signed. 

“It’s dangerous everywhere.” Kingo replied, his mouth in an unnaturally hard line. “What else was I supposed to do? I thought maybe I could at least bring some joy to the people, rather than remain a caged bird in the castle, waiting for the capital to be sacked and inevitable slaughter. At least out here it’ll be unpredictable and quick.” 
 

“You’ve changed.” Thena mused, she was comfortable signing everything she said by this point, only Kingo relied on Makkari’s lip-reading, having not spent time perfecting it with them in the field. 

“Haven’t we all. Oh! That reminds me. Ajak said that rascal Sprite ran out on us to join the war effort, most likely you lot. Have you seen them? Are they in bed while the grownups drink as they should be?” Kingo teased. All three faces fell. Their briefly lifted spirits shattered; like that. 

“Sprite’s dead.” Thena managed, expression grim. Druig and Makkari’s eyes were on the floor. 

“No,” he breathed, eyes wet. Kingo let out a shaky, exasperated sigh. “Not them too.” 

Who else? Makkari signed, fear flickering in her warm brown eyes. 

Kingo looked up at the three of them, inquisitive.  

“No one told you? Are you kidding me?” 

“Now would be a great time to enlighten us before we start imagining the worst Kingo.” Druig warned, his voice sharp. Afterall, letters were sparse as the war crept in and supply lines were frequently cut. Weeks or months went by before they heard from anyone. How long had it been since Makkari had heard from Phastos? Thena from Gilgamesh? Druig from Ajak, even? 

“Sersei.” He whispered. “They got her on the front lines. That’s- that’s why I left. Ikaris is different now, even though they broke up a while ago. I don’t like who he’d become, and he told me couldn’t care less if I left or stayed...so.” 

They were all silent for a moment, more than one breakaway tear darkening the wood of the table. Druig considered making a joke about Kingo besmirching Ikaris for once, how bad it must be to incur his ire, but it didn’t seem funny anymore. It seemed like a joke only the old Druig would make. 

“To Sersei,” Thena suggested, raising her glass. “And Sprite, and all we’ve lost.” 

“To Sersei and Sprite,” Druig, Kingo, and Makkari replied. 

“To Domo,” Kingo added. “Long may she resist. I’ll have to write a ballad about this. I’d rather be dry, but at least I’m alive.” 

Isn’t that a line from the famous poet Lady Ga of Ga? Makkari signed incredulously. 

“No. No, definitely not. I definitely composed it just now. You must have it confused. It probably has a similar nuance.”  

Thena smirked from behind her cup and kept drinking. A rare inkling of amusement. 

“It’s absolutely a line from that old iconic ballad. Shower Upon Me, Noble Storm.” Druig corrected. 

“It is not!” Kingo insisted, blushing furiously at being caught red-handed. Druig and Makkari both found themselves chuckling for the first time in weeks. 

“It cometh down on me!” Druig cheered. 

Water akin to misery, Makkari added in, which Thena translated for Kingo. 

“It’s cometh down on me right now,” Kingo retorted, sipping his ale testily. 

“I am prepared: let it shower upon me. Amen.” Druig completed. Despite themselves they all chuckled. 

Wasn’t there a famous bard rendition of that song? By the balladeer Ariana the Grand? Makkari asked. 

“Well yeah- only the vocals arrangement was incredible,” Kingo enthused. 

“You should show us.” Druig baited. Kingo stood a little straighter. 

“Should I?”  

Most assuredly, Makkari signed, which Druig translated. 

“I am indifferent.” Thena deadpanned. 

“If you say so,” Kingo gushed bashfully. 

What followed was a subpar at best rendition of the ballad, Kingo possessing a reasonable talent for singing and nowhere near the range required for the belting female-pitched power ballad. Makkari assured them all it was top-notch. 

“Thank you, Blurry Bee’s tavern!” Kingo exclaimed, taking an exaggerated bow. Several soldiers clapped politely while most ignored and several local townsfolk jeered half-heartedly. 

After this, the merry quartet continued on drinking for several hours, obtaining a pleasant buzz and enjoying company for the time in many moons. Eventually, a fairly strapping young soldier came by and tapped Makkari on the shoulder, communicating solely with his eyes that he would appreciate her company for the evening. Makkari, in chipper spirits, finished her drink and excused herself with a wink, to which Druig waved soullessly. Kingo eyed him curiously. 

“What’s up with that?” 

“The two of them had an incident. No one will tell me what. But there was an incident.” Thena cut in, cutting a glare at Druig. 

“It’s fine.” Druig attempted to hide the bitterness in his voice, but evidently failed. 

“You guys were inseparable. And apparently engaged. What happened?” 

“I thought we had a chance to be something else at one point. It seemed like she wanted that too. But this place messed me up.” he swallowed thickly and avoided their gazes. “There was a moment- I said something stupid. Now I don’t think we’ll ever be like that again. Can we talk about something else?” 

Kingo nodded wordlessly and let it slide. Thena’s gaze softened. She understood what it was like to have these near-misses, to care about someone and have this lifestyle of death and suffering stymie something that could have been beautiful. 

“I know things got twisted, and everything feels like it’s ending,” Kingo said at the end of the night before he bid farewell to Druig. “But you don’t want to die with those feelings Druig. You don’t want her to die not hearing them either. You should take the chance that it could make you both happier and talk about it.” He patted Druig on the back, for once seeming remarkably wise.  

“I’ll think about it.” 

******************************************************************************Day 746 

Fifteen days had passed since they did whatever the opposite of celebrating was for their two-year anniversary of being on the front lines. Everyone had experienced a somber evening, a candle light vigil with words and trinkets laid out to commemorate all the dead. Seeing Sersei and Sprite’s items lined up among the fallen had been traumatizing enough, Druig certainly did not need to experience any more loss. Which is why today, day 746 of hell, it felt like the world was ending as he was slammed into the ground, dropping concentration on his mass-cerebremantic slaughter, and opened his eyes to see Makkari- 

The blow had clearly been meant for him. And while Makkari had long since been deemed his personal body guard, she was also needed mowing down assailants and frequently had to keep an eye out for while attending these other tasks. Lightning speed as ever, she had seen his imminent doom coming. Fast, loyal as ever, she had removed him from the danger, but not with enough time to escape herself.  

The ripped through her abdomen and she stumbled back, effusing blood. The soldier ripped the sword back through, leaving the hole through her vital organs pouring rivers of her precious life force.  

“No!” He screamed, and the Deviant’s let out an awful cry as blood burst from his every facial orifice. Druig scrambled to her crumbled form, where Makkari lay gasping for air, hand on one small portion of her expansive wound, staring at the cloudy, gray sky above her. “Retreat!” he screeched. “Medics! Medics! ” 

Thena whipped around to see the carnage and inhaled sharply. 

“Retreat to the camp! Hold the lines! Medic, this way immediately!” Thena ordered. The soldiers of Domo surged in their direction, fleeing for their lives as Druig grabbed a medic and hefted Makkari on a cot for removal. He shoved his cape into her hands, balled up to slow the blood. 

“Hold on,” He whispered, and with that he flung one arm out, freezing Deviants by the hundreds in their tracks as the remaining mages hurled destructive spells at their front lines, decimating the enemies while their own soldiers fled. He turned back to Makkari and realized with horror that she was still enhanced with his speed spell, practically vibrating as the red fluid oozed from her gaping abdomen. “Shit!” Druig pulled another soldier to hold the other end of her cot as he focused on releasing the speed spell and replacing it with a slowing ward localized around her wound. It wouldn’t save her life ultimately, but it would slow the bleeding and leave the untainted blood in her body, where it could be safely extracted and pumped back into her veins later.  

Druig...? She signed hazily, her eyes blinking slowly as if dazed. 

“Hang in there,” He plead. “I don’t know how to heal you myself, but we still have one healer. We’ll find Gwenda back at camp and she’ll fix you. Stay awake.” 

Makkari tried her best, but the world was blurry and warm despite the late winter chill. Her hands were wet; sometimes she would lift them to see why and be reminded by the gory sight that she was injured- no, she was dying. 

Druig? There’s something I need to tell you, she signed weakly, barely able to lift her arms.  

“Don’t you dare,” He snarled. “We’re here. We’re here! Gwenda! Where the hell is Gwenda?!” 

“S-she’s dead sir,” One of his devout followers replied.  

“She’s what?”  

“She was cleaved clean in half by one of their last abominations, sir.” The young mage explained, eyes glassy with the memory. 

“No,” Druig moaned. “No, no, no, no no...” 

Thena caught up. 

“What’s happening? Where’s the healer?” 

“Deceased, my lady.” The soldier answered when Druig didn’t, then he walked away. Druig’s mouth was dry and his chest was heaving. Makkari was still laid out on the cot, making small whimpering noises of pain as the adrenaline wore off.  

Thena grabbed Druig by the shoulders.  

“It’s fine, Druig. You know magic. You're the best there is. And your mother is one of the most talented healers in history. You can do this.” 

“I’ve never done a healing spell in my life!” He screamed. “She could die!” 

“She will die if you don’t, Druig! The medics alone can’t save her now. You have to figure something out.”  

His brain whirred a mile a minute. Panic, panic, panic...calm. She was right. Makkari would die if he couldn’t get it together. If he couldn’t pull a solution out of his ass- like he always did. He had never felt more incompetent, but then, had his life ever not been this? Maybe it had all been leading up to this moment, a lifetime of terrible situations where he had to cheat death with nothing but brains and audacity preparing him for this, right now. Saving Makkari. The only person who had ever mattered.  

“Medic, ready the blood funnels,” he ordered. “Bring her inside the tent!” 

The recruits did as they were told, awestruck at his calm and capability as always. 

“She’s losing too much blood. You’re to collect as much as you can in the next 2 minutes in these bottles and immediately start pumping it back into her arm vein using the funnel and needle. Then, when I say move, you get out of the way and keep pumping what you collected. I don’t know a single healing spell and to attempt it could ruin everything. I’m going to have to sew any internal injuries by hand, pray they don’t get infected, and then cauterize the wound to stop the bleeding. If she can get through all that, I’ll put her into a magical rest until we get back to Castle Domo and pray Ajak can fix her. 

“Retreat back to the castle? Abandon the front?” Thena asked, her expression stricken. 

“What choice do we have?” Druig asked, rolling up his sleeves. “It’s Makkari. We wouldn’t last a day without her anyways.” Thena’s brows furrowed with concern, but she nodded. It was the truth. And deep down, she couldn’t bear to lose Makkari if there was any chance to save her either. 

The medics did as they were bid with her blood. Others kept wet cloths on her face and fanned her to keep her awake but her attention away from the gore. 

Druig...am I gonna die? She signed, fading quickly.  

No, he sighed back, touching her face gently. I’ve got you. But this is going to hurt. I’m so sorry, my love. This is going to hurt a lot, but I know you can handle it. You’re my beautiful, strong Makkari, right?   

I don’t want to die. I can do it, she promised.  

I know you can. You’re my world, Makkari Tilborn. You have to be strong, Druig signed. Makkari’s vision was blurry and her mind felt numb. She wasn’t sure if she was dreaming or awake, which is why when she thought she saw him sign, I love you, she assumed it was another daydream like all the many times she’d wished for him to say it. 

Druig took a deep breath. Now came that part that was going to haunt his nightmares forever. He reached his hand inside the jagged line-shaped wound. Makkari screamed. 

He felt himself freeze and his gut drop, but he steeled himself. He knew this was the only way to save her life, to keep her in his life, no matter how much it hurt her. He had to pretend it wasn’t her, tap into that emptiness and utter desensitization to violence. Methodical. Scientific.  

He took the suture and garment thread that was handed to him and delved in, tuning out the wails. Praise to any and all gods, it appeared only one of her organs had been perforated. An intestine.  

It was almost an out-of-body experience, stitching up a piece of anatomy he was never meant to see. It was a blessing he had such steady hands. 

“Mage, clear the abdomen of blood one last time.” He ordered. The mage did so, pulling as much of the liquid that pooled in her chest cavity into the air at once and funneling it back to the waiting transfusers. He took a deep, shaky breath. The hard part.  

He cast the spell and his hands began to glow and spark with flame. He pressed them hard on the surface of the wound. 

The screams that erupted from her mouth left scars on his mind in the same way her burn would likely never fully fade. When he was satisfied the wound was closed, they poured cold water on it as she continued to cry out. Druig walked back to where she could see him, her eyes wide awake like they certainly weren’t before the surgery. 

“Sleep,” He whispered, passing his hands over her eyes, and the nightmare ended for her, but not him. He stepped out into the afternoon and the cold wind snapped at his cheeks, bringing him out of his self-inflicted daze. He bent over and puked.  

With the dissociated trauma of the moment spent, he was left with the torment of reality flooding his senses as he came back into his body. He collapsed on his knees outside the tent, weeping. He couldn’t care less who saw anymore. He was done with this war and all it had taken from him. This trauma had been one too many, now he could no longer oppress the grief inside himself...he’d simply reached his limit.  

A small crowd gathered around him. Some of his devout acolytes appeared to cry with him, and for once, his staunchest critics were silent, even understanding. They’d thought him cold, calculative, emotionless. He’d been protecting himself, but now he couldn’t, they finally saw just how deeply he felt. He did love. He loved her.  

Thena came out and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.  

“I’m proud of you,” she said quietly, so only he could hear. “We’ll let her rest so as not to aggravate her wounds and leave at dawn. We’re only about 20 miles from the capital. I’ve sent word to Ajak. We should be there by tomorrow evening.” 

Druig nodded blankly and wrapped his arms around himself. 

“Come now,” Thena whispered, gently lifting him to his feet. “It’s time you rest, too.” She brought him inside and planted him on a cot beside a now blissfully slumbering Makkari. She handed him a handkerchief. 

“What’s this for?” He asked weakly. She gestured to his nose. He dabbed the cloth at it, assuming it must be snot from all the unabashed sobbing. When it came back red, he was perplexed. “Oh.” 

“You over-exerted yourself. Now lie down. We need you at your best in case we encounter trouble on the route back tomorrow.” Thena advised.  

“Right.” He said softly. He laid back and gazed at the ceiling, but he couldn’t sleep. His body was buzzing from the aftershock. 

Eventually, he pulled up a chair, knowing her warmth was the only thing that could comfort him. He needed the proof that she was alive, just sleeping. With a long, tired breath, he pressed his cheek against her still hand and slept. 

Chapter Text

The march from the scene of Makkari’s near doom to the castle was thankfully uneventful. To say Druig was on edge would be a massive understatement. He could barely think as they strode ever forward, hands twitching and glancing back at the gurney carrying Makkari every few minutes. The medics said she appeared stable, that his work yesterday had been effective. She was alive, if probably in a lot of pain. So, asleep she remained.  

At long last they could see the city gates. It felt like a homecoming, a sense of unbelievable relief to return to a place Druig had spent relatively little time. He could only imagine what Makkari would be feeling if she were awake to glimpse it for the first time in over two years. But of course, if she could they wouldn’t be here. Instead, she’d wake up healed at home, in sight of her brother.  

Still, as they marched through the town and up the steep road to Castle Domo, scant, silent townsfolk staring at them, he felt a creeping shame. He couldn’t help but wonder if they all blamed the army for failing to protect them. For the rife poverty, for the front line they’d abandoned. For potentially condemning their country to death.  

They reached the gates, and to he and Thena’s pleasure, Gilgamesh was waiting. He did his best to put on a warm smile and was looking plump and strong as ever, but anyone could tell times had been hard. As Thena approached, to everyone’s surprise, he threw his arms around her in a very public bear hug. Even more shocking, she did not resist, pressing her cheek against his chest and wrapping gently around him. When he finally let go, he gave Druig a smile and pulled him into a squeeze too.  

“Good to have you both back. I’m so glad you’re alright.”  

“As much as I love the glory of battle, it is good to see home.” Thena admitted.  

“I believe that’s the first I’ve ever heard you say so.” Gil said with a frown.  

“These are exceptional times.” Druig added grimly.  

“Indeed. This way,” Gilgamesh dismissed the rest of the army to take rest in the castle and helped Thena carry Makkari through the halls as he led them to the throne room.  

“How’d you get that cut on your face?” Druig asked him as they went.  

“The latest assassin.” He sighed.  

“Assassin?” Druig asked.  

“Did no one tell you? There have been six attempts on Queen Ajak this month, a steadily increasing frequency since the start of the war. Arishem would clearly love to get her out of the way. If it weren’t for the constant danger, I would have joined you all on the front lines long ago.”  

“No,” Druig said, cutting a glare at Thena, who looked unrepentant, “No one did tell me that.”  

“I guess they didn’t want to worry you. No matter. The other fronts are holding for now and the one you were on took heavy losses. We expect not to see an invasion of the city for several days at least. They’ll take some time to regroup.” Gil explained. “Here we are.”  

Upon entering, Ajak rushed down from her seat to find Makkari. She stared at Druig with some powerful emotion, something like relief, but restrained herself from embracing him in public. Afterall, no one knew.  

“Alright, stand back and let me work.” She pulled out a tiny knife.  

“What are you doing?” Druig asked instinctively, and upon noticing the glares on him, haphazardly added, “Your highness.”  

“I need to quickly get the thread you used to stitch her up out and heal the perforation before it causes an infection. Don’t worry, when I close her back up she will be healed instantly, and this time it won’t even scar. I’ll be able to heal her burn for the most part too. It will be faded, but it will not disappear entirely. That is mark she will have to bear.” Ajak informed him. He nodded faintly and tried to look away. “Don’t worry, when it’s done she will be completely healed and not feel any pain. We will be able to wake her up and put her on bedrest to recuperate for a couple days.”  

She proceeded to perform the surgery flawlessly, and true to her word, when she closed the wound on Makkari’s abdomen, it healed as if new to the point that the remaining burn scar had an obvious line through it of seemingly untouched skin. It was remarkable, and for the first time, Druig felt a passionate sense of gratitude for the woman who had caused him so much pain.  

“Thank you,” He whispered.  

“Of course, Druig. We have set her up a room in the royal quarters so she can have some privacy and peace while she rests up. Phastos is waiting there to see her.”  

He bid farewell to Ajak, Thena, and Gilgamesh, ignoring a scowling Ikaris in the corner. He carried Makkari to her room himself this time, wanting to be the one who settled her in, woke her up, and of course say his greetings (and apologies) to Phastos.  

When he opened the door, Phastos jumped from where he was seated on her bed, evidently staring into nothingness. Druig couldn’t imagine the grief he must have caused him. He’d never had family like that to lose. But he did know Phastos loved Makkari every bit as much as he did, which meant the guilt of nearly ripping that away from him because of his own weakness was insurmountable.  

“Druig!” He gasped. “Let me help.”  

They lay Makkari down and gently tucked her under the covers, making sure she was comfortable and had everything she might need before speaking.  

“I’m sorry,” Druig blurted, feeling his eyes sting, but determined not to cry today.  

“Sorry?” Phastos asked softly, rolling eyes.” “From what I hear you saved her life, the one she has always been known to recklessly risk. This isn’t your fault Druig, we’re all just doing our best right now. Besides, the first words out of your mouth were supposed to be ‘it’s nice to see you’ and I was going to say ‘welcome home’. They don’t have manners in the underworld where Dark Mages are forged?”  

Druig chuckled quietly. “Sorry. It is good to see you Phastos. You have no idea.” They hugged silently and paused for an awkward beat before Druig added, “I should probably wake her up so you too can catch up. One second.”  

After rousing Makkari from her slumber and confirming that she did in fact feel no pain whatsoever but was merely tired from the blood loss, Druig made his leave to give her and Phastos some time to reconnect.  

Welcome back to the land of the living Murdered Baby , Phastos signed, seeing Makkari rise with a smile. Fresh tears of joy sprang to her eyes and they embraced tightly.  

I’m just happy to see the face of someone I love alive and well again. It seemed like anyone who wasn’t right in front of me ceased to exist. Even the people I was with were more dead than alive, most of the time. Makkari replied, feeling a wave of sadness wash in to mellow out the burst of light.  

Druig seemed to be lower than ever, Phastos remarked, watching her expression carefully.  

We’re different now. She responded cryptically, avoiding his gaze.  

I know, Phastos signed. Everyone is. He’s definitely blaming himself for this though. From what I hear, he’s been a mess since you got hurt.  

Has he? Makkari asked, genuinely curious.  

Is that a surprise? Phastos asked, befuddled.  

Things have changed. Anyway, how were things back here? She inquired, quickly breezing on to the next subject. Phastos was concerned by these developments, she and Druig were certainly not in the stage of their relationship he had expected them to be by this point, but he decided to leave it alone while Makkari focused on getting better.   

It’s been awful, he admitted. There has been more than one instance of civilian casualties with the weapons I made to preserve this country. One man’s child was killed with one of my weapons- a citizen of Domo. He came to the throne room and thew the child’s corpse at my feet and screamed at me about how I was responsible. Of course, Ajak had him thrown out, but he was right. I’m not proud of the things I made. They’re destructive, monstrous even, and I wish they didn’t exist. I didn’t think hard enough about what creating these things would do.  

Phastos, Makkari signed, face falling. That’s horrible. That is not your fault. You only did what you could to help save our people’s lives.  

It wasn’t enough. War ruins everything. He replied, despondent.  

Makkari didn’t want to continue this line of conversation either.  

What about that man of yours? She asked. Phastos managed a weak smile.  

He’s been the only boon. We’re very happy together.  

Good, Makkari signed. You deserve that.  

Well, I should probably leave you to your rest. But before I go, there’s something you should know. It’s about Druig.  

What? Makkari asked, tired.  

There’s a lot of opinions swirling about him in the castle these days. Stories that have made their way back here. Apparently Thena didn’t rat you guys out when you killed someone for him. One of our soldiers.  

Her face darkened. He was trying to start a mutiny.  

I know, and that’s how she explained it to Ajak in a letter when called out. But people are very uncomfortable with the amount of influence he has. You were willing to kill for and almost died for him. And his little legion of fans in the army reveres him a little too much. Even many of his critics changed their tune when they saw him break down over you. That’s a lot of people very loyal to him alone. It’s causing some dissent. I just wanted you guys to be aware.  

Are you saying he’s in danger?  

I’m saying you guys should lie low a bit and remind people who your allegiance lies with.  

Druig isn’t particularly loyal to the crown. He just wants to survive and be left alone.  

I know. But he’s going to have to sell the opposite if he wants to get by. Just a heads up. Sleep well, Makkari. Don’t go blurring any blades until you’re better.  

No promises, she signed with a wink and half-hearted smirk.  

***  

Two days of quiet reflection went by and they were adjusting to life back at the castle while everyone scrambled to prepare for a siege or whatever came next. Druig and Makkari both felt themselves slipping back into the more mischievous, light-hearted versions of themselves, as if just being in this location of so many pure memories were enough effuse them with some of their prior lifeforce. Jokes were cracked. Acts of kindness were performed. Despite the looming war outside, inside these walls they well a sense of security and calm that had been absent for years.  

On the third day, they were taking a walk along the fortress walls, hand-in-hand for the first time in many months. Suddenly, Druig stopped and let go, turning to face her.  

Makkari, he signed hesitantly. We never talked about it. Do you remember when...when I kissed you?  

Makkari’s jaw set and her mood instinctively soured. Of course she remembered. Day 59, late at night after drinking in a tavern, standing just outside in the warm air and they had both been upset, still adjusting to life in a warzone. A little tipsy, a little delirious, he had stretched his hand out and caressed her cheek and ultimately decided to go for it.  

Druig remembered too. How desperate he had been for comfort, for anything that would make him feel outside of the constant barrage of distress and depression. Selfish, stupid.  

Of course I remember, Makkari signed tersely. You kissed me and then you said, ‘nothing feels right. Not even you feel right anymore’. She tried and failed not to let the bitterness invade her mind again. For one glorious moment they had been the “we” she’d been hoping for.  

“I’m sorry,” Druig blurted. “I was drunk. I shouldn’t have said that. That hurt you.”  

It’s not your fault, she signed begrudgingly, letting her temper simmer. It did feel wrong. I felt it too . This didn’t make Druig feel better. Unbeknownst to each other, both desperately wanted to explain that it wasn’t each other, just the horrid timing, and that they did want to talk about it again. Maybe even try again- but neither do. Instead, there is a painfully long silence that Druig ultimately breaks.  

I didn’t mean it. He signed.  

Yes, you did. She countered curtly.  

“I didn’t mean it like that, ” He signed and said, emphasizing the last word.  

Druig, this happened over a year and a half ago, why are you bringing this up now? She had to know what he was trying to get at. Druig felt a powerful confliction inside him. After all this time and how things had changed, he couldn’t dare try to suddenly jump back to romance. He just wanted to apologize, he just couldn’t bare that he’d said that, how he could tell she’d interpreted it, internalized it, as a judgement on herself.  

What I did before we left for war.. .he signed instead, if you don’t want to do it anymore...  

Are you taking your proposal back now?! She signed furiously.  

“No! No, that’s not what I meant either, I-”  

Why are your mental barriers up? She signed agitatedly, I can’t understand you. Just let me in so I can see what you’re trying to say.  

Druig felt his stomach drop. He couldn’t. If he let her into his mind just then, she would see everything he felt for her. His intense love for her that seemed to span every type of attraction and bond. He couldn’t unload that on her, especially not when she was angry and clearly didn’t feel that way for him anymore. Maybe she once had, but he’d ruined it. He just couldn’t compartmentalize that many feelings. He had no choice but to keep blocking her.  

“I-I can’t, Makkari,” He confessed, feeling once again like every ounce of hope was lost.  

Makkari's eyes stung once again. He was protecting her from the rejection now, she supposed. He knew how she felt about him and didn’t want to risk letting her in on any less kind ways his brain might have thought to turn her down. Her cheeks were burning hot with embarrassment. Didn’t he know she was a big girl? Since when did he look down on her like this? Is this why they’d been so distant since then?  

Just say what you fucking mean then, I can handle it.  

I don’t know what to say, he signed helplessly.  

Then call for me when you do, she retorted, and stormed off to be alone.  

Druig felt a powerful twinge of anger, self-loathing and just about every other unpleasant emotion drown him at once. He needed some time alone to cope, to plan how he could possibly fix this, but of course that’s not what happened.  

No, of course that was the exact moment he was called to the throne room to advise on military matters.  

Chapter Text

It was fair to say Druig was now pissed.  

The last thing he wanted to do was hear about how awful the war had gotten and pitch last ditch attempts to survive, especially not in the same room as Ikaris (their two years apart may have been horrible, but there was at least one benefit), who even Kingo- the man who frequently kissed the ground Ikaris walked on- no longer liked.  

But when something seems bad, one should always prepare for it to be worse, because when Druig arrived he saw that Makkari had also been summoned to this meeting. For the very first time since he’d met her, she was the last person he wanted to see, and it looked like the feeling was mutual. The two had both counted on some time apart to calm down and figure out how to express what they really wanted to say to one another before coming back into contact. Emotions were still very raw from their conversation only moments ago, and both knew this was going to be a problem.  

Phastos, looking grim, as well as Thena and Gilgamesh were all in attendance as well, as could be expected for a war council.  

“We have brought you here today to discuss some matters regarding the war, but before we can get to battle strategies for the coming assault, we unfortunately need to tackle another problem.” Ajak spoke with pursed lips and an unnaturally uptight posture. Druig could tell beyond a doubt without using his powers that she was heavily angered about something. “As you all know, I am beholden to the concerns of my people, especially those of the nobles in my court and other royal family members.” She avoided looking at Ikaris at all costs, and cut icy glares at many of the nobles in attendance, including Makkari’s parents. So that’s what had her so upset.  

“Which is why it is imperative we talk about what happened while you were away at war, Druig and Makkari.” She finished.  

Druig gave a short, sharp laugh of disbelief.  

“We’re being interrogated?” He scoffed.  

“Some are evidently concerned about the soft power you’ve accrued among the army.”  

“I’m the leader of Mage Corps. That’s a military position that inherently comes with power.” He argued.  

“Indeed. But some question how you came to this position and the obsession with which many in your Corps speak of you. They talk as if you were infallible, more than human. Of the witnesses to your ascension to that role, there are four. Thena, your friend and ally, Makkari, your fiancée, and two mages who described the incident as an act of providence .” Ajak looked very uncomfortable, and Druig felt his own confidence slipping into anxious defensiveness. Had the recruits really been referring to him as some sort of prophet? Had they written off Andgeir’s untimely demise as a divinely ordained moment meant to jumpstart his rise to power?  

“I have never done anything to encourage people to view me that way,” He said honestly. “They survived and we made through against some pretty tough scrapes thanks to my powers and co-leadership with Thena. Have you considered they’re just grateful to the actual gods for their lives and have faith in me as a leader?”  

“Call it what it is.” Ikaris cut in, standing menacingly. “He’s started a cult.”  

“I’m pretty sure in order for something to be considered a cult, there has to be a religious doctrine, and the cult leader has to be a part of that.” Druig hissed in response.  

“A legion of a soldiers who view your leadership as divinely crafted and your powers god-like. A political position acquired under dubious circumstances and carried out with the blessing of close allyship with the head of the army and Queen’s favor herself, which has also come under scrutiny-” Ikaris was clearly abusing the lack of knowledge of the greater court to oust him as had always been his plan. “And your betrothed, who also came to a startling amount of power, who was both willing to commit murder and die for your protection. Does that not sound like heretical religious zeal to you?”  

“Leave Makkari out of this,” Druig hissed.  

I can speak for myself thanks, Makkari signed, and Thena hesitantly translated.  

“Indeed,” Ikaris snapped. “And speak you shall, because there are those within this court who wish to see you held responsible for the murder of Elroy Mcolfrey.”  

I put down a mutineer who threatened to fracture our entire army. We would have crumbled and the country ceased to exist years before now, she signed angrily.  

“So you say, it is certainly all highly suspicious.” Ikaris replied. Thena looked like she wanted to speak, as did Ajak, but instead it was Druig who couldn’t restrain his instinct to quip at Ikaris’ expense. His blood was boiling from the argument with Makkari and now this, threatening to punish both of them for his own blind spots in a leadership position he never intended to obtain.  

“Idiots who get their asses beat by Dane crashing their ex-girlfriend's funeral should keep their mouths closed while adults are speaking of serious matters.” Druig snapped, immediately regretting his lapse in temper.  

“Why you insolent-!”  

Druig! Makkari signed furiously. Apologize and keep your mouth shut. People here want your head on a chopping block, Phastos warned me.  

Druig rolled his eyes pettily. What exactly is new about that? He signed back.  

It’s worse now! She retorted.  

Everything is worse now! He shot back.  

Maybe if you could set your half-suicidal pride aside for ten minutes and watch what you say, we wouldn’t be in this situation!  

What exactly am I supposed to care about living for? My childhood sucked, our country is on the verge of collapse, I get written off as evil for everything I do, and you don’t even like me anymore. I only even went to war for you and now I'm about to be locked up or executed for doing my job there too well!  

Oh, so now it’s my fault you went to war. Maybe you should’ve just trusted that I could handle myself.  

You all would’ve died ten times over if I hadn’t been there!  

This was all signed frantically over the course of about ten seconds.  

“What are they saying? Are they insulting me further? Are you really going to allow this disrespect in our court?!” Ikaris yelled.  

Thena coughed. “I can attest that they are currently sorted out a personal disagreement.” She stepped between them and angrily signed Shut up, assholes!  

“I think it’s about time we dealt with this man’s insubordination mother. He just insulted me, the crown prince, in front of the entire royal court. That is a severe crime in our laws.”  

“I have no choice, Druig. You have in fact violated the law by insulting a royal family member in public, which is punishable by many forms, form which Ikaris will have his pick as the offended party.” Ajak said curtly, eyes looking wet and voice sounding surprisingly choked. “Since you have both shown disrespect and a complete lack of remorse on the issues brought to your attention today, both of you will be subject to punishment for your crimes, including those committed in the midst of war without proper due process.”  

“Guard. Fetch me the lash.” Ikaris cooed, an evil glint in his eye.  

“Ikaris,” Ajak warned.  

“It is well within the law to execute him on the spot, mother. Some corporal punishment will do him good as no other measures have seen success yet.”  

Worry flashed over both Thena and Gilgamesh’s faces.  

Stop! You can’t punish him for my choices, Makkari signed, Thena translating. I chose to protect him because he’s my friend. Not because I worship him. And whatever the soldiers believe, I can attest he’s never had any part in it. All he ever did was try to plan and execute battle strategies using his magic and intelligence to the best of his abilities.  

“Then it’s you who should be flogged for wanton murder?” Ikaris asked.  

“Makkari, stand down,” Druig signed and said. It’s okay. I can handle it. Just let them hit me and get it over with. It’ll cool down this misunderstanding if they feel like I’m properly punished.  

I can’t just stand here and let them hurt you when you’ve done nothing wrong! For what I did!  

Neither of us deserves this, Makkari. But it’s my gift that has always made them afraid. I can’t let you suffer for guilt by association.  

“Are they colluding again? Stop this nonsense at once! Who knows what they’re planning.”  

“He’s telling his fiancée not to worry about him and taking responsibility for his actions,” Phastos snapped. As a very cautious and level-headed individual, it was highly rare of him to speak out of turn, let alone with such tone against the crown prince.  

“Regardless,” Ikaris seethed. He took the whip in hand and Druig fought back a tide of emotion. There was hate for Ikaris, true hate. Anger that wanted to lash out first and make him sorry. Flashes of his father’s belt on his bare back intercepting his thoughts and turning his own body against him. Two guards approached and secured his arms, another pulling up his shirt to expose his back for Ikaris’ wrath. He felt an uncommon panic set in and pulled against the ones restraining him. “Don’t fight.” Ikaris hissed. “If you do, they will have your head.”  

Druig swallowed the terror and took a deep breath. He closed his eyes. Just pretend you’re not here , he told himself, just like you did back then.  

Easy though it may have sounded in theory, Druig knew it had been a long time since he had felt the sting of this kind of violence and it would not be so easy to slip into that state of limbo anymore. He’d grown too accustomed to violence in other forms. Death was always at his doorstep; pain was real but only temporary.  

Makkari on the other hand, felt her mouth dry up. She instinctively took a step forward in disbelief, before Thena tightly grabbed her arm and silently pulled her back. Her eyes warned that she dare not intervene, lest the situation escalate even further.  

Ikaris relished in the whip. In its first crack Druig muffled a scream, feeling the skin welt up and sting. The second slash bit at his back yet again, but it wasn’t until the third snap that his flesh rip readily under its violent use. The skin tore open, leaving a long red line as Druig fought back tears and plotted vengeance.  

Makkari saw red. She tore off her pauldron and dropped her sword, turning all attention in the room to her. Druig had no use of his hands, so he turned his head and spoke to her where she could see his mouth instead.  

“Don’t, Makkari. Don’t. ” He warned.  

“Your highness, I think the point has been made. If we encourage this type of justice too much it is also a bad image to bear. Common folk and those in our military ranks may have serious reservations.” Thena interceded, praying her account would be heard.  

“I’ll decide what’s appropriate.” Ikaris said.  

“She’s right,” Ajak said, “You should exercise restraint, Ikaris. Mercy is a virtue of the powerful.”  

“This is mercy.” Ikaris snarled, snapping the whip yet again. And again. Another time-  

Makkari lunged with her usual uncanny speed and in a second, she had tackled Ikaris to the ground where she was punching him mercilessly.  

“No!” Druig called, and in an instant his eyes glowed gold. Makkari stopped cold, stock still, and stepped away from him. Her whole body was shaking, fighting back from his control with every fiber of her being. Druig had learned to conquer the will of thousands of men at once, even abominations of beasts with no natural equal, but it still took every ounce of his control to keep her at bay. The guards surged forward to grab Makkari and Druig dropped his magic.  

“It was me,” He plead. “Please, I made her do it. I just didn’t want to be hit anymore.”  

Ajak trembled with horror at the turn it had all taken. She had no choice now.  

“Take them both to the dungeons!” She yelled. “Separate them. Thena, restrain Makkari at once.”  

“I’m not done with them!” Ikaris bellowed.  

“He is my son!” Ajak shouted over him. “And he will not be treated this way in my own court.” Her voice was shaky and she ran to Druig where she quickly sealed his wound. Every eye in the room rested on her back, every mouth agape.  

Thena hesitated as she looked at Makkari.  

“Thena, I gave you an order!” Ajak told her. Thena mouth twitched with conflicting emotions as she stepped forward. With a pitying glance at her favorite subordinate, she subdued Makkari in a tight restraint. “I can make no promises for the sentence she will receive. I remind you, Makkari Tilborn, that your excessive loyalty to Druig is exactly why you’re here today.”  

Druig felt seized by an unknowable terror. Makkari had just assaulted a royal, a crime punishable by death. They were going to be separated, and then differing sentences would be handed out. Now that everyone knew who he was, he would be forgiven at Ajak’s behest, but Makkari? Makkari was lowly noble who had committed violence against the crown prince in the name of a controversial figure, proving everything they had levied against them both.  

“No!” Druig yelled again, bucking off both of the guards sent to stop him. “Get your hands off her!” His eyes glowed again and more a moment, Thena’s grasp on Makkari dropped completely. “I will kill every single person in this room if you harm a hair on her head.” He growled.  

“Phastos!” Ajak ordered. “Incapacitate him before he can do any more damage!”  

“Did you just threaten the life of your queen?” Ikaris balked.  

Phastos felt a rush of dread. He knew he was the only person who could stop this now. With a flourish, he whipped out the anti-magic bracers he’d been ordered to create with Druig in mind and flung them at his wrists, where they attached themselves and gripped him tightly.  

Druig’s gaze fell to him, feral and confused.  

“You have to cooperate, Druig.” He begged. “For both of you, please, please go quietly right now.” Druig gave him a passive glance, his eyes softening with understanding. He nodded wordlessly. Phastos pressed a button from where he stood and Druig felt a sharp sting to his hand from the cuffs. In seconds, everything went black. Phastos turned to Makkari and gave her a pleading look.  

She stopped fighting. Gilgamesh scooped up Druig’s unconscious form, and Thena and he dragged them both away to depths of the castle’s prison.  

Chapter Text

Druig woke, feeling a tad hungover from whatever herbs Phastos had knocked him out with, to the delightful sound of metal bars being incessantly clanked upon.  

Groaning, he sat up to see Makkari in the cell opposite him, railing her tin cup on the bars of her own cell and glaring at him.  

“Today sucks bad enough without the migraine, Makkari. I’m not dead, I promise.” He snarked, signing in tandem.  

The cup was promptly chucked through the bars directly at Druig, whom would have been hit were it not for the safety of his own bars.  

“Hey!” He yelled. “You’re the one that got us thrown in here by beating the shit out of the future king! ”  

He was trying to kill you! She signed furiously.  

“Oh, he was lightly torturing me, and I was prepared to handle it!”  

This time a rock came careering through the grates and clocked him straight in the head.  

Bullshit! She retorted.  

“Andgeir did worse to me the first time he met me. I was fine!”  

I saw your face, Druig! You weren’t fine.  

“And I saw my dad, but I dealt with it! I calmed down, and everything was going to be fine. They would get the justice they all believed was needed and we’d all be over it. If you hadn’t intervened-”  

What was I supposed to do? Just stand there and watch them torture you for what I did? I put your life and the success of the mission over all others. That was my choice!  

“I was ready to take the hits, Makkari. I wasn’t ready to let you get hurt for being the only person to give a shit about me!”  

She let out a loud, rumbly sound somewhere between a groan and a scream.  

Stop sacrificing yourself! You matter, you stupid fuck, you matter to me! Just like I matter to you. She promptly burst into tears and pressed her closed eyes against the bars as her chest caught on each heaving sob. I can’t watch you suffer. I just want you to be happy, she added.  

“Stop,” Druig begged, tears mirroring her own. “Stop crying over me! I don’t fucking deserve you!” She threw another rock at him from her place, this time holding nothing back.  

Is that why you changed your mind? Because you think you’re holding me back?  

“I didn’t change my mind,” He admitted. “I was empty, and tired, and I had nothing to give. You needed comfort that I couldn’t give you, and just like I told you before we left for war, I promised I would never hold you back from whoever or whatever you wanted. I thought for a moment, we had a chance to be something more, and I fucked it up. I hurt you, and you didn’t want to be around me anymore. I was trying to give you distance and hope things got better.”  

Then why do you keep blocking me out? Why wouldn’t you just show me months ago what you wanted to say and we could’ve avoided all of this! We could have communicated in that throne room and kept each other in check!  

“Gods damn it!” He released his walls instantly, slamming her with a mountain of emotions far beyond what she ever could have guessed he felt. “Because I didn’t want to burden you with all of this when I didn’t know how you felt in return. Because I would rather be by your side as you fell in love with every other person on Earth than risk losing you from my life by making you uncomfortable. Because I fucking love you! ”  

Makkari felt like she’d been socked in the gut, somewhere between adoration and rage.  

I love you too, you asshole! She signed back, shaking the bars for emphasis. You were holding that back all this time? I thought you were just trying to reject me gently.  

“Are you shitting me, Makkari? Have you even seen yourself?! You really think I would turn you down? How was I supposed to know you loved me back? We were friends until we kissed once and you got mad at me, then proceeded to avoid me for a while and sleep with a bunch of other people- I thought you considered it, got hurt and moved on!”  

Then why did I make my way home to you every single night? She signed, looking at him like the biggest oaf on the planet. All the sex in the world was just a momentary high, but at the end of every night I still wanted to cry, and the only person who made me feel better was you! You made me feel safe, and included, and happier than I ever was before I met you. I don’t want to go a moment without you. And you’re hot too, dipshit! Look in a mirror some time!  

Druig, chuckled despite himself, salty tears drying on his cheeks.  

“I’m sorry. I’m an idiot.” He admitted.  

A genius and an idiot, she concurred. “I love you,” She said aloud, and the core of Druig’s being cracked in two.  

I love you, he signed back, slumping against the bars. “So I take it the wedding’s back on?”  

You owe me a really good one. If I don’t get executed.  

“If I have to, Makkari, we’ll break out and leave Domo behind for some place new. We can write Phastos and maybe even Kingo once we’re settled.”  

Deal. What now?  

“Now...we wait I gue-”  

“Alright, I hope you’re both done repenting because it’s time to go!” Ajake barreled into the room and began unlocking their cells with shaky, hasty hands.  

“That was not what I was expecting.” Druig stated.  

“We’ve been betrayed. Ikaris disappeared after the incident, and we found a letter in his room. IT was from Arishem, telling him to defect and help him defeat Domo. Gave him specific instructions on how to find a spy he had planted that will lead him to wherever Arishem is hiding. The Deviants just breached the front gates of the city and the siege has begun. We can’t have the two strongest fighters in the entire country, excluding Thena and Gilgamesh, locked up right now. Penance will have to wait.”  

“Ikaris fled the country to betray you?” Druig asked in disbelief. Even for Ikaris, it seemed out of character. He was an asshole, sure, but he loved his country and intended to run it, and he certainly didn’t hate Ajak enough to get her killed.  

“Oh, and this. I didn’t want to read it. The only thing he left behind besides the incriminating note from my father was...this letter addressed to you.”  

“To me? ” Druig asked.  

To him?! Makkari added. Druig quickly snatched the letter and began skimming it.  

“Holy...shit.” He murmured.  

What does it say? Makkari asked.  

“He- he’s not going to join Arishem. He’s going to kill Arishem. It’s an apology.”  

Ajak choked back a sob and a laugh at the same time, then shouted something likely very explicit in Celestial.  

“That idiot! What is wrong with you two?! Why can’t my sons behave?”  

“At least he chose the right side.” Druig replied.  

“To get killed on?!”  

“Maybe not. It’s a stupidly dangerous move, sure, but it’s smart too. Clearly Arishem fully believed Ikaris would be prey to the same greed that he has. But he’s loyal to you. He said if he succeeds, he’s going to take the throne of Celestia as is his legal right and end the war immediately. Then he’ll stay and rule there, start over. He said Sersei would hate what he’s become, and he’s ashamed. He thinks he’s found the right path now.”  

“Pray he succeeds then, it would save both our countries.” Ajak pulled Druig into a tight hug. “I am so sorry for the way everything has happened, Druig. I love you more than you know, and I just want you both to be happy. And you too,” She placed a gentle hand on Makkari’s arm. Makkari nodded and gave her a shallow bow.  

“Now go get out there and defend the city for as long as you can. I will be in the city healing as many people as I can.”  

With that, they all took off through the castle. Makkari stopped to grab her armor and weapons, feeling the rumble from the chaos that had already consumed the city outside. Druig started picking out soldiers in heavily populated areas and dispatching them from his window view. They quickly made their way outside and into the fray.  

Makkari was once again imbued with Druig’s speed spell and the two took off for the worst affected areas. Immediately they came across two joyously familiar faces.  

“When we finish these beasts, Gilgamesh,” Thena thundered as she split a Deviant monster in two, “we’re getting married already!”  

“I will make you-” Gil paused to smash the head of a beast and impale a man, “-the tastiest nuptial cake you have ever seen! I am keen on a beach honeymoon!” He added.  

“I will allow up to five days without training or battle!”  

“Deal!” He shouted, and they both cackled as they continued to ream opponents left and right.  

“Congratulations!” Druig yelled, stopping a wall of soldiers and frying their brains nonchalantly.  

“Thanks!” Gil replied, stepping over the bodies to seize Thena by the waist, dip her, and plant a powerful kiss on her smirking lips.  

“Later, darling! We’ve blood to shed!”  

With this, the two scampered off to the next most messy plaza of the city to continue creating the next generation’s legends.  

What happened? Makkari asked Druig upon seeing their embrace.  

They’re getting married too! He explained. Makkari clapped excitedly before zipping off and back, leaving a shredded flying deviant and twelve dead men in her wake. The area was now empty.  

“Makkari,” Druig said, placing his hands on her waist and staring deeply into her deep, exuberant eyes, “I think it’s about time I kissed you properly.”  

She grinned, not one to put her swords down and needing no more to say. He crashed his lips into hers, soft and pliant, gentle but strong. She wrapped her arms around him, careful not to poke him with her blades, and he cupped her face in his big, warm hands in kind. When they broke for air, they were both laughing and smiling like idiots. Their connected restored, they both were drowned in waves of affection and pulses of memory; laughing and crying and holding one another close. Stolen glances, steamy thoughts, and endless curiosity. Druig squeezed her close and pressed a kiss into her neck.  

“Ok,” He said finally. “Let’s go save the world.”  

The two fought until the moon was high in the sky, its pale light illuminating the blood-soaked streets and piles of bodies. Few civilians perished thanks to the efforts of Gilgamesh, Thena, Druig, Makkari, and a very hard-working Queen Ajak, who stayed with the evacuated survivors and healed each one in turn. The enemy forces, remarkably, had been pushed back to the edges of the city when suddenly calls began erupting for them to fall back. Within the hour, the Deviants had retreated to the city gates.  

And there, at the center of it all, strode King Ikaris, wearing the crown of Celestia, Arishem’s head held high by the hair in his fist.  

“Citizens of Celestia! I am your king! You are hereby ordered to stand down and return to your country!” The soldiers stood in shock, but many wore signs of relief. They bowed to honor their new king. Ikaris continued his parade until he reached the shrine where civilians of Domo were hiding from the violence.  

Ajak ran out to see him, Druig close behind. Ikaris dropped the beheaded remains of the transgressor at his mother’s feet.  

“You’re safe now, mother.” He said, “And so is Domo. I will make my leave to be the man you raised me to be.” Ajak pulled him into a tearful embrace and kissed his cheeks.  

“You are stupid and brash, my son. Be careful and write often. I am so proud of who you have chosen to become.”  

Ikaris nodded and turned to Druig. Remorse and thousand words were written on his face, but he knew none would suffice. Instead, he bowed to the knee at his younger brother.  

“May you find peace, prosperity, and most of all love.” He said quietly, eyes flicking toward Makkari. “One should trust in and be with those they love as often as they can.” With this, he left.  

***  

Ikaris returned to Domo occasionally, for Druig and Makkari’s wedding of course. He returned for his mother’s funeral, and stayed for Druig coronation.  

Druig and Makkari had forty pleasant years of peace before Ajak departed the land of the living on amicable terms with all. They had a gaggle of healthy, happy, hell-raising children that all reached adulthood and lived good lives in the time after the war. Druig and Ajak spent many years reconstructing and reforming the country in a better image, one where all had what they needed, folks like Phastos could marry whom they pleased, and technology prospered under Phastos’ genius guide. Education also flourished, with Druig being a particularly ardent supporter of research into the magical arts and how to utilize them for the greater good.  

Celestia, too, recovered from its woes under the careful eye of King Ikaris, who frequently sought his family’s counsel.  

Kingo of course, became known throughout two kingdoms, and wrote several ballads about the thrilling (he omitted the harrowing bits) time he’d experienced. The crows adored him, and Druig and Makkari allowed him to come through now and again to sing his songs and get shit-faced together in the wine cellars.  

The war left its mark on everyone. But it did not break them. With time, all were able to recover from its aftershocks and experience the peace they so deserved. Those that were lost were never forgotten, but the wounds of loss healed too.  

Eventually, Druig and Makkari passed on too, surrounded by those they loved dearly. The country mourned them deeply, but thanks to Kingo, their legacies lived on eternally immortalized in song.  

So it was that no one ever forgot the Knightmare or the Darach.